#which is NOT a good sign. those men have something fucking wrong with them

[waitineedaname]

I need to stop feeling insane about shen qingqiu. I need to start being normal about that man

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

I'm soooo sorry you're under the weather and dealing with crappy stuff! I hope things get better for you, physically and mentally 🙏 Get lots of rest if you can, and drink all the fluids!

Headcanon requests, is it? How about the OPLA men (Shanks & Mihawk, but also take your pick, etc) with a multi-tasking reader who delights in various hobbies to keep busy, and occasionally drags them into getting involved? Whether it be container gardening, knitting, baking, sewing, artwork, etc.

Bonus if they're also contending with where exactly reader stores all of her crap when it's not in use, not at all guilty of this myself 🙈🤣

Thank you so, so, so much. It’s been a really bad day and this has honestly helped a lot.

Like I feel this hard. There’s guitar picks and tuning peg winders and little notebooks full of story notes and recipes and origami scattered all over my house.

Just gonna do Shanks and Mihawk this time, because they very much are my main comfort characters right now.

The fact that one of my comfort characters is so murdery probably does not say good things for my mental health but whatever

Hobbies

OPLA! Shanks and Mihawk x Reader

Cloyingly fluffy, here is a spoon with which to gag yourself, just in case c>===

Shanks

He is absolutely so game for all of this.

Such a child about it, if you’re trying to do anything new he’s just so excited about it and needs to know everything.

Completely in your business, asking ten thousand questions, along with the inevitable starry-eyed, “Can I help?”

And you’d have to be heartless to turn down those puppy-dog eyes.

It might not turn out to be his thing, and he might get in the way more than he actually helps, but he’s going to enjoy the experience with you regardless, and his enthusiasm is just so precious that it makes it more fun for you as well.

The exception here is knitting. Knitting can get fucked. He tried, holding one needle in his hand and the other between his teeth, and somehow ended up nearly giving himself a tracheotomy.

But if you knit, sew, or crochet something for him, he’s going to unironically wear it everywhere and brag about it to anyone who will listen.

Baking, though, turns out he has something of a knack for it. And now his go-to solution if you’re sad or upset about something is to bake you cookies, because “How can anyone be sad when there are cookies?” And, well, he’s not entirely wrong.

The captain’s cabin is just completely cluttered with arts and crafts supplies, with so many signs and knickknacks of your many and varied hobbies, and he sincerely loves it because there’s just so much of you everywhere he looks. He’s always felt at home on the sea, but this just makes it feel even more like home.

Mihawk

Not quite as perceptive to participating. He might if you ask him, but some things might take convincing.

He’s an utter perfectionist about everything, so if you do convince him to try anything, he’s probably going to fixate on it until he’s a certified expert and compete with you over who’s better at it.

More refined and traditional artistic endeavors definitely appeal to him more—you could probably convince him to try painting or drawing pretty easily, but things like sewing or crocheting are going to be a little more of a stretch.

Gardening in general is honestly fine as well, container or otherwise.  The more you can grow on the island or around the castle, the less he has to concern himself with leaving to deal with other people. And it is fairly convenient to have fresh herbs growing right in the kitchen.

Fairly adept at cooking already—he’s spent most of his life in solitude, so cooking for himself was something of a necessity. Baking isn’t exactly his forte, but he will partake if you ask him to.

He acts like the clutter of your supplies irritates him, but really only so he can give you a room or two of the castle dedicated solely to your hobbies. No point looking a gift horse in the mouth, and you know he’s just being surly to protect his pride.

You know because even if he isn’t interested in it himself, he does enjoy watching you work, sitting off to the side with a book and a glass of wine, glancing up every so often to see your progress.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What do you think of Watari? Do you think he read too many comics of Batman as a child and that's why he is willing to go that far for L? Is he just that eccentric that he dedicated his life to create the perfect detective and then created a fabric orphanage that raises more perfect detectives? Or is he another bored genius with too much money? And what do you think L thinks of him?

“I just never thought I’d meet anyone who legitimately thought he was Batman.” Naomi pointed out, “I mean, that stuff just doesn’t happen to other people, but somehow I just managed to find the one guy and…” “I don’t think I’m Batman.” L said in slight confusion as if wondering how that point even had come up. “Oh come on, now you’re just delusional.” Naomi said, “Do I really need to point this out for you?” “There’s a ninety nine percent chance that there is nothing legitimate to your argument.” “Hey, assholes, I’m right here!” Mello said trying to become the focus of the conversation once again. Naomi and L spared him a dull glance before returning to glaring at each other and continuing to pretend that Mello didn’t actually exist. “Wrong. There are many reasons why you think you’re Batman. Let’s start with Watari, tell me, doesn’t he seem an awful lot like Alfred?” Naomi placed her hands on her hips ignoring Mello’s pacing back in forth in the room like a neglected and angry puppy. “That’s rather irrelevant and somewhat racist, not all British elderly men are Alfred…” Naomi continued counting off the reasons on her fingers, “You work with the police but you never show them your face. You learned martial arts and I’m sure that if you didn’t already know that it wasn’t practical you would beat your enemies up in an elaborate costume for the good of the world. You have at least three secret identities just in case someone finds out who you really are. You built a giant building with a helicopter pad just so that you could catch one man who is you’re arch nemesis. You have your own symbol which you display to show your presence in the world. How do you not think you’re Batman?” L blinked and said, “Those were all completely necessary.”

All You Need is Love, by me, circa 2010

I'm sure other people have said as much, but I feel like you're quoting me to me, anon...

I've already given my two cents on Wammy's, the long and short of it being that it's a toxic and terrible idea that is not for the good of the children, the world, or anybody.

So... honestly, yeah, Watari's clearly really attached to this idea of the world's greatest anonymous detective to the point where he built this orphanage that destroys several children's lives while actively destroying L's life (as we have enough flashbacks to reveal that L started this when he was very young). Watari clearly does care for L, we do see signs of that, but it doesn't mean this isn't all very fucked up and that Watari--clearly is chasing a goal in this and feels this is a good turn of events.

The thing is it's not about training people to become competent detectives, even if they were adults rather than children, it's instead making these children compete so they can get a single title for a man who isn't even dead yet to ensure that this legacy of an anonymous super detective continues when... why? L can die, anyone can die, any name can die. Why not let the title of L die and let other detectives step up to fill in the gaps? Why not have the children pursue their own titles rather than L's? Why have them pursue L's title at all from a very young age when this probably won't be what they want to do with their lives when they're adults?

Why this obsession?

It's not a natural thing that Watari's set up, not in any way, and the amount of dedication involved (including personally as he's the living assistant twenty-four-seven to L) speaks to something a lot more than a bored genius.

I think Watari believes in L, the idea of L, more than L himself ever did.

As for L's thoughts on Watari (here his thoughts on Near and Mello), it's hard to say. He treats Watari like shit, but he treats everyone like shit, and we do see him have... a few moments with Watari and no more friction with the man than he does anyone else.

However, we do see things such as L more or less refusing to go along with the Wammy's scheme, despite Watari being very into it. L and Watari always interact in the roles of detective and assistant, we never see them break character despite knowing each other since L was a child. In fact, we see Watari... plying him with sweets twenty-four-seven which really begs the question of whether Watari has ever, in L's life, helped him adult in any capacity. Did you even fucking try, Watari? Or did you just feed this boy hostess snacks for twenty years?

We also see L have a much more... nuanced and passionate interaction with Light than he ever does Watari. It could be Watari's comfortable, the closest thing L has to a father, while Light is exciting and a brilliant murderer and the highlight of his career, and we do see L be even worse with the likes of Matsuda, the rest of the task force, Misa, even people he hires like Wedy, but it really does feel like L means it when he says Light is his only friend.

He clearly has an emotional attachment to Watari but... honestly, it doesn't feel like as much as he has to Light, which is a bad sign when Watari's been around since L was a child.

Basically, I land on "looks complicated, but Watari was a pretty shit father, and L doesn't seem to regard him as one". I don't think L resents him, he clearly enjoys his position and toys too much, but I do think L... thinks of him and treats him as "assistant and butler" and that's the box Watari gets to live in in L's brain.

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 25 - Prompt: Bad @wolfstarmicrofic

January Daily Series - 659 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Sirius shoved his way through the crowd with his gaze laser-focused on James’s dark, tousled curls. He needed an answer to this vitally important question right now and James was his moral compass. It was imperative that he check in before he made this decision.

“James!” he hissed, rushing to his best friend’s side. “Quick, what does it mean if I’m defending Remus to himself? Is that a bad sign?”

“What?”

Regulus glared from where he was snuggled under James’s chin. “It means you like him, which we already told you. Now, go tell him!”

“I wasn’t asking you.”

James sighed, then smoothed a hand over Regulus’s back. “He’s right though. You’re gone for him, mate. I don’t know why you’re defending him from himself, but that much I do know.”

“He was calling himself stupid and some other bullshite in Welsh I didn’t really understand, but was clearly ragging on himself and I couldn’t just stand there and let it go when-”

“Sirius!” Regulus snapped. “Go snog him and leave us alone.”

Sirius opened and closed his mouth twice before a frustrated whine left his throat entirely of its own volition. “But he’s from here and I live-”

“So what? It’s fine! Now go, you obnoxious git! Before he sorts out that you can’t tie your shoelaces without James’s approval.”

“That’s not true-”

James reached out and squeezed Sirius’s shoulder. “Really, Sirius. We’ll figure it out. See if this thing with Remus is worth it, then hash out the details later, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright.”

Sirius spun around and squared his shoulders. He could do this. James believed he could do this, so he definitely…probably…could?

“Go!” Regulus shouted, kicking his bum.

He stumbled forward, then shot a glare at his brother, but Regulus was fully snogging James now. Sirius grumbled under his breath before approaching his Herculean task. It shouldn’t be this hard to ask Remus on a date. The bloke practically admitted to liking him too, just not in those exact words.

Just walk over there, ask him to have a drink, and see where it goes. Easy. He might even get a cheeky snog himself for the effort, which he did want. Ever since their not-a-date lunch a few days ago, he’d thought about kissing Remus.

Then why do I feel like I’m about to pass out?

Remus was still awkwardly bopping in a sea of couples, exactly where Sirius left him. His brown beanie was askew after his fidgeting with it and a few of those honey-dipped curls were matted to the sweat on the back of his neck. More than anything, he wanted to yank that ugly hat off of his head and stroke his fingers through all of that hair.

He's not even fit, but I still want him. That has to mean something, right?

Sirius inhaled deeply, then marched toward Remus with the confidence that fled earlier marginally renewed. James said they would figure it out, and that was as good as a promise coming from him. He could do this. He could have something real for once.

“Remus,” he said, inwardly cursing at the waver in his voice. Sirius cleared his throat and tried again when he skidded to a halt in front of the bloke. “Remus. I like you and even though we live an obscene distance from each other, I’d like to try…this.” He waved a hand between them and chewed the inside of his cheek.

“This?” Remus blinked slowly as his brows furrowed.

Shite! How am I already fucking it up?

“Oh…erm, dating. If you want to, of course. I’m not assuming that you do, or anything. Just asking, sort of,” he blathered, face flushing deeper by the second.

Flirting was second nature for him, yet he’d lost every ounce of his charisma the moment those pale green eyes met his. Sirius never fell apart like this over a bloke. He could charm the pants off of anyone with little effort. Men, women, or otherwise, it didn’t matter.

What is wrong with me?

Next Part>>>

[itsstrange]

Bounded

Fandom: MW2

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

A/N: Finished playing the campaign a couple days ago and my love for this man has awaken once again. I remember I used to have a crush on him as a kid and those feelings have arisen once again! So, for all you Ghost sluts, this one is for you!

Summary: After a mission gone wrong, both (Y/n) and Ghost are forced to hideout in an abandoned apartment complex, where things soon get interesting.

Word Count: 6.5K

Warnings: (Yes) Injury, Blood, Mentions of Death, Cursing, Smut, Kissing, Confessions, Fingering, Slight Rough Sex, Just Pure Smut. (+18)

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Enjoy! 🔥

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Things went to shit rather quickly. It was supposed to be a simple mission, or at least that’s what Lasswell told them. Breach. Kill. Search for any intel and Get Out. Simple right? No. Not fucking simple at all. They were misgiven information, supposedly there would be a skeleton crew of 10 hostiles guarding the broken down building, not 40, and now (Y/n) is sporting a good bullet to the torso while being carried out by none than other Simon “Ghost” Riley. In other words, the Lieutenant, and the one man that can easily clashed throats with her. Fucking great.

They walked in with six men, now only them two were making their way down the flooded streets of Mexico. Rain poured down on them as they quickly looked for a place to lay low, but every building they’d pass through was either lit on fire, completely destroyed or too exposed. Which gave them the only option to keep walking until they found something much more inviting and secured. However, they were quickly running out of time considering (Y/n) was barely able to stand on her own feet. The bullet on her side was sending white hot pain throughout her body with each step she took, it didn’t look like it because of the rain pouring on them but she really was losing a lot of blood. She was actually surprised she had survived walking two miles without collapsing, then again it was the adrenaline that gave her the strength.

Which quickly began fading off the longer she stood on her feet. Her energy was decreasing now with the adrenaline gone and it didn’t help when unbearable pain shot through her side with each step she took. Eventually, it became too much that she honestly just needed a break. Just five seconds, or ten wouldn’t kill anyone.

“Wait wait,” (Y/n) harshly whispers as she leans her hand against a ruined car, breath coming out in harsh puffs, “Just— Just gimme a minute,”

“Negative. Can’t do that soldier. We gotta keep movin,” Ghost says, voice firm and stiff, with a small hint of worry, which of course she didn’t catch,

(Y/n) let’s out an exhausted sigh through her mouth as she hangs her head. Even that was becoming difficult to keep upright. He should just leave her, save himself, she was only slowing them down and risking both—his life.

“C’mon Nova,” Ghost calls her by her call sign as he carefully pulls her off the car, “We need to find shelter so I can patch ya up,”

“Move it,” He orders as he begins walking, forcing her to do the same, causing a pained groan to leave her lips as the sudden movement causes pain to shoot from her wound,

Placing a bloodied hand on said wound, she slowly walks alongside the brute man, who kept his eyes peeled for any danger and shelter that look safe enough. Even though her heart was thundering in her ears, she would often catch his harsh breaths or grunts as he carried mostly all her weight or would reposition her around his shoulders whenever he’d feel her slipping away. Most of the time she’d do it on purpose to get him to leave her on the ground and save himself from the dead weight, but he wasn’t having it, he’d only tighten his grip on her and would continue walking through the flooded streets.

“Where do you take someone who’s had a peek-a-boo accident?” Ghost suddenly says as he scans the buildings, faint grunts leaving his mouth every once and a while,

“No,” She flatly responds, she’s honestly not in the mood for his ridiculous dad jokes,

“To the I.C.U,” Ignoring her he goes ahead and finishes his joke, which only receives him a breathless scoff along with a small shake of a head,

Dark humor just like his soul.

“You honestly have no filter Riley,” (Y/n) says through gritted teeth when he accidentally applied a little too much pressure on her wound, causing the Brit to apologize as he continues down the street,

Silence settles between them, only the sound of rain hitting the ground, fire cracking in certain buildings, their ragged breaths mixed with grunts and pained groans are heard. (Y/n) felt like they’ve had been walking for years, when in reality it had only been 30 minutes, however, if they didn’t find a place soon she knew her legs would give out sooner rather than later.

About another mile of walking through the flooded streets, hiding from shadows every so often, and tripping over her own feet more than once, they eventually found shelter. It wasn’t the best, but it was certainly better than the other buildings they’ve been passing through. It was good enough to allow them catch their breaths for an hour or so before they had to keep moving, which (Y/n) honestly didn’t care, just as long as she was able to rest for a few minutes.

The moment Ghost kicks open the door, makes sure it’s secured and begins walking through the door it was as if her body knew it was okay to relax now because she suddenly slips away from Ghosts grip, causing her to land hard on the floor with a loud exhausted groan.

“Fuckin’ hell (Y/n),” Ghost curses underneath his breath as he quickly helps her off the floor,

With quick movements he leads her towards a beaten down couch he spots in one corner and gently lays her down. Earning him pained groans as he watches her clutch to her side with eyes tightly shut. Her breathing was coming out in quick short puffs, as she laid on the couch while the lieutenant moved around the small beaten apartment looking for supplies. A minute later he comes back with a kitchen knife, a piece of cloth, and a bottle of what seemed to be tequila but she wasn’t given the chance to observe it properly considering her vision began failing her due to the amount of blood she had lost.

“Soldier, keep your eyes open,” Ghost demands as he hurriedly preps his improvised kit,

“Nova!” He shouts when he catches her drifting, but it was no use, exhaustion was quickly winning over her body,

The last thing she’s able to hear was her real name falling from his lips once again before darkness over takes her, sending her into a peaceful, quiet, dreamless sleep.

******

The sound of thunder roaring and rattling against the walls jolts (Y/n) from her sleep. Brows knitting together in confusion when her eyes stare upwards towards a dark ceiling, and even more so when she notices she’s covered with something. Slightly angling her head she realizes it’s a hoodie, not just any hoodie though, she recognizes it almost immediately. It was Ghosts navy hoodie that he was wearing under his vest, and now it’s draped over her, nearly covering her body from how big it was.

As she slowly peeled the hoodie off her frame, which smelled like cigarettes mixed with gun oil and cologne, the scent of Ghost, she noticed how her side had been bandaged up. Pain still lingered, sending jolts of it with every small movement she made, but at least she wasn’t bleeding out or better yet, dead. Glancing up from her covered wound, she immediately lands them on a figure standing in the shadows next to a window, the light from the moon giving her a clear view of his skull mask and noticing, he was staring right back at her.

They lock eyes in silence for ten seconds, until he averts his eyes outside the window for a second and then slowly making his way towards her. His rifle gripped in both hands, and noticing then, he was only in a dark long sleeved shirt.

“How you feelin?” His deep and hoarse voice matched the look in his blue eyes as he hovered over her, eyes scanning her frame head to toe,

(Y/n) thanked god for the darkness, heat crept up on her cheeks from the way he stared at her. She was even more thankful when words easily slipped from her mouth.

“Hurting. But nothing I can’t handle,” She grunts as she slowly starts sitting upright on the couch,

Right away Ghost was by her side, giving her a hand by gripping onto her shoulder and carefully helping her up.

“Didn’t want me havin’ all the fun I see,” He heartfelt jokes as he goes ahead and walks towards the window once again,

A scoff leaves her lips with a roll of her eyes. She thought quite the opposite.

“How long have I been out?”

Ghost looks down at his watch and then back out towards the window, “Two hours,”

Jesus. She thought to herself. She’s been passed out for two hours, risking both their lives and their location. “We should start moving then, we need to get the fuck outta here,”

“Negative. It’s bucketing down out there and you need rest,”

“I’m fine, Ghost. We need to move,” She argues back, hand clutching to her side while her (E/c) eyes watch him,

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at her and remains his ground by the window. (Y/n) would’ve thought he’s giving it a thought, but she thought wrong because he only turns back around with a firm ‘no’ making a scoff leave her lips as she slowly maneuvers her legs onto the ground and leans back against the couch. Eyes scanning her surroundings and thinking, how the fuck weren’t they caught yet? The building looked as if it was hanging on for dear life, maybe that’s why they’ve been in the clear, they wouldn’t dare walk into this death trap. Lucky for them right?

Averting her eyes back to the man, she observes him from her spot. The moonlight illuminating his iconic skull mask, and the small peak of those dangerous, dark, eyes of his. As she stared at his frame she began wondering how she ever got this far with the man without having to ever see his face, not that she’s been wondering what he looked like under the mask, but a speck of it would satisfy her enough. Then it got her thinking of all the times they were constantly at each other’s throats, both on mission and while resting at the base, which honestly brought a small devilish smile to her lips when deep down she enjoyed their back and forth banter of pure ridiculous things. As much as either one hated each other’s presence, they both knew deep down they enjoyed every single argument. Not that they would ever admit to it of course.

Their arguments only grew when Price would purposely team them up for missions, causing their voice to be heard in the earpiece going at it about the most smallest things. Which eventually causes Soap to mute them in annoyance every so often, he was honestly tired of their bitching but he’s only one voice, they wouldn’t listen to him.

Her mind then wonders to how either one reacts when one gets hurt. She doesn’t know if it’s just her but whenever he gets hurt on a mission, it feels as if her whole blood drains from her body whenever she sees him injured. She’s usually the first to patch him up whenever they’re clear, even if it’s just a graze on the arm, she’s there. But when she’s the one with a bullet, she’s noticed how he becomes very… protective? Firm? Quiet? She didn’t know how to explain it other than serious, more than he already is anyways. Like now, he’s quiet than usual, he’s always humming to himself as he thinks of a way out, or always throwing stupid jokes very once and a while, but now, he’s just leaning against the window in silence, blue eyes scanning for any threats.

And honestly. She’s had enough… of him standing. She knows for a fact that he’s been standing in the same spot like a goddamn reaper, and it’s honestly exhausting her.

“Ghost,” She calls out to him, no answer, so she tries again, this time by his rank, “Lieutenant,”

That got him to look over his shoulder. Eyes firm and dark as they meet hers. Definitely not sending an odd feeling down her spine from the way he glanced at her.

“I think we’re in the clear. You can sit down for now,” She tries, leaning her back to rest against the edge of the couch and closes her eyes,

Even with eyes closed, she can still feel his eyes on her. Watching her in dead silence, feeling the way his stare only burns her skin from how intense it felt. Eventually, about a minute or so, she begins hearing his heavy boots walking around the ruined floor. She didn’t want to open her eyes to see what he was doing, so she kept them shut and focused on the sound of his boots growing louder until she feels the couch dip next to her, along with a heavy exhausted sigh.

He had sat next to her.

I mean where else would he sit down? The floor?

Once again, silence surrounds them. Just the sound of rain, thunder, the low creaking of the building, and the slow steady breathing of (Y/n) can be heard. She eventually begins drifting away once again, her mind relaxing and sending her into a dreamless sleep until..

“Knock knock,” His deep baritone voice startles her, causing her eyes to snap open,

Without answering back, all she does is turn her head towards him with an annoyed look in her eyes. Ghost was fiddling with his gun, then turns towards her when he doesn’t receive a reply, the look he gives her with his piercing blues forces her to go along with his terrible, non appropriate dad jokes.

But that’s what makes him Ghost.

Rolling her eyes she replies back, “Who’s there?”

“I.O,”

“I.O who?”

“Me. When are you paying me back?” The small scoff that slipped from her lips was accompanied with a wide smile, he always found a way to crack her,

As much as she loathed it, she couldn’t stop the small chuckle that slips from her. Slightly coughing she clutches her covered wound when pain shoots towards her side.

“Get shot and I will,” She responds with a shake of her head, wide smile still plastered on her face,

A deep, amused, slightly muffled chuckle slips from the man’s mouth. Ringing beautifully in her ears, she can’t remember the last time she’s ever heard him laugh or even crack a smile, obviously, so the little gesture for sure brought a warm feeling across her chest.

Another wave of silence settles in between them for a few seconds, until he’s speaking once again. Bright blue eyes staring straight into her own (E/c) orbs.

“How you holdin up, really?” (Y/n) remains holding his gaze, feeling hypnotized by his eyes that she suddenly shares the truth about how she really felt,

Not the whole truth, but some of it.

“You should’ve left me,” She softly says, watching the way he slightly squints his eyes at her before looking away with a heavy sigh, then adds, “You should leave,”

“Don’t be daft,” Is all he says, eyes watching the window to his left, “I’m not leavin,”

(Y/n) rolls her eyes at his stubbornness. Why can’t he understand that all she wants is to save his life? Why does he have to be so fucking hard headed?

“I’m only slowing you down,” She pushes again, not noticing the way he shuts his eyes from annoyance and frustration,

“Sergeant,”

“If you leave now you’ll be able to call Soap, let him know your location and get help,”

“Nova,” He warns,

“Save yourself!”

“For fuck sakes (Y/n)! I’m not leaving you!” He finally averts his dark eyes towards her that were laced with rage, annoyance and firmness,

That familiar tension begins rising between them as they glare at one another. Neither one of them wanting to back down.

“You can nag all you want. You’re fuckin stuck with me,” He firmly points out, eyes never leaving hers,

She didn’t know what it was, but the feeling that was building in her chest was becoming too strong to push aside. It was an urge. An urge to launch at him, to grab ahold of him, shake him, slap some sense into him, to just.. touch him. She honestly didn’t know how to explain it nor she didn’t know how to understand it, but what she did understand was how much she craved this man right about now. It was the same urge she’s felt with every argument she’s had with him, she wouldn’t think much of it, until now. It was just too strong to ignore it.

Which is also the reason why her next words shock the shit out of her and causes her blood to grow cold from the sudden question that slips from her mouth after a minute of silence.

“Can I kiss you?” It was a shocking surprise for both of them, causing both their eyes to grow wide at the question,

(Y/n) because of shock and horror. Ghost because of pure utter shock, he was definitely not expecting that to come out of her mouth. He doesn’t respond, just feels the way his breath hitches in his throat the same time his body goes rigid. Hard like stone.

When she knows he won’t stand up and walk away, she slowly and hesitantly reaches a hand towards his mask. Dark eyes watch her slim fingers with caution, as if her fingers were sharpened knives itching to cut his flesh, then let’s out a shuttered sigh through his nose when he feels her small, but skillful, fingers tugging slowly at the hem of his balaclava. His eyes were on her the whole time she slowly rises the mask, then catching the small little exhale slipping out her mouth when she finally gets a view of his plumped pink lips, light scruff covering the sides of his jaw as she continues to rise the mask.

Knowing her boundaries, she leaves the mask just under his nose.

Her (E/c) eyes avert from inviting lips towards his own piercing blue orbs, silently questioning him if this was okay, if it was crossing a line, if it was okay to continue or if he wanted to stop. Little did she know he was burning on the inside for her touch. So many questions were written in her eyes, but before she can actually ask him anything, Ghost licks his lips before smoothly making the first move. Making her breath hitch when she suddenly feels his lips on her own, getting a strong taste of salted lips, dirt, and oil, although, she reacts back rather quickly to the kiss. One of her hands gently cup the side of his face while the other rests heavily against his thigh, even through his jeans, her touch burned his skin. She just had that effect on him.

After the second or third kiss, Ghost slightly pulls away to stare into her eyes, his own orbs searching for any regrets, discomfort, when he doesn’t find any he dives back towards her lips more fiercely. With much more passion, a little rough, but gentle and caring at the same time. Causing the kiss to quickly get heated the moment he slips his warm tongue into her mouth, earning a small whimper from her at the affection. Definitely igniting his arousal even more.

Next thing she knows, she’s gently being pushed down against the cushions with Ghost hovering over her, lips not once parting from each other.

A small groan that sounded more like a whimper shutters in between their lips when Ghost accidentally knocks his hips against hers, already feeling the outline of his harden member rub against her core through his jeans. He continues with his brutal teasing, thrusts becoming more firmer each time he rubs against her clothed core until she’s eventually a panting mess and begging him for more. She felt as if her body was on fire, her skin heating up like a goddamn sauna, even though it was nearly fifty degrees outside with rain pouring down on the roof, she felt too suffocated.

Not wasting another minute he lets his hands travel down her body until they land on her belt. Once unbuckled, he quickly slides her cargo jeans down her legs, lips still not leaving hers, even when a deep, choked groan slips from her bruised lips when he pushes her panties aside and slowly presses his rough fingers against her clit, gathering her wetness before diving two long, thick fingers inside of her. She’s not even sure when he removed his gloves, but she could careless at this point.

“Oh.. ffuck,” She harshly whispers, hot breath fanning over his mouth as he immediately finds his target, twisting and curling his fingers he brushes against that one spot,

A static feeling buzzes through her core all the way up to her stomach before dissolving into a cold shiver towards her shoulders as he continues to torture her g-spot. The sound of her wetness can be heard throughout the ruined apartment as he picks up his speed, her breath coming out in quick puffs with each thrust of his thick fingers. A hand was gripping onto the back of his neck, nails leaving imprints of small moon shapes against his skin as his speed only seems to increase while her other hand held onto his wide shoulder. Fingers curling onto his shirt.

“G-Ghost,” She moans his name as her peak was quickly rising, quickly tilting towards the edge,

But just before she can feel that euphoric feeling, she feels him withdrawing his fingers, earning a desperate sigh from her. Her eyes immediately snap open, confusion settling in her eyes from the sudden action, but before she can even ask she sees him shrugging off his vest before finally unbuckling his belt, awhile still being in between her legs. She then feels the way her mouth goes completely dry, as if a sudden sandstorm invaded her mouth, when she watches him shove his jeans down with one hand while the other reaches inside, pulling out his leaking member.

The head an angry shade of red, precum drooling from the tip with each slow stroke he makes. With the help of the moon light shining through the window, she can tell he was thick, feeling the way nervousness settles at the bottom of her stomach the longer she watches his hand slowly stroke his aching member, but boy did that also heightened her arousal. Quickly settling back in between her legs, Ghost hovers over her, the tip of his dick slightly rubbing against her covered mound as he makes himself comfortable, considering he left her jeans pooled at her ankles and had to maneuver himself in between her legs by lifting and crouching underneath. Taking off her boots and jeans completely seemed like a hassle, a risk he wasn’t willing to take, them doing this was already a risk, anything and anyone can ambush them at anytime, but if they were both being completely honest, that was the least of their worries. For now.

“You sure?” He asks for the first time since everything began, hot breath fanning against her lips as he achingly waits for confirmation,

Which he gets by her quickly nodding her head and reaches a hand to wrap around his member, earning a choked grunt from the man above when she strokes once, twice, before finally guiding him where she yearned him the most. With half lidded eyes he does his best to watch her reaction as he slowly sinks his girth into her heat. Letting her feel inch by inch. Her eyes tightly shut, mouth slightly open while small grunts, moans and whimpers breathlessly fall out, but with the feeling over powering him and the way she curses underneath her breath, he isn’t able to hold his gaze for long.

“F-Fucking hell,” Ghost breathlessly groans against her lips as her tight walls clamp around him,

The one hand he had holding her hips with a careful grip, suddenly lands heavily besides her head as he can no longer support his weight from the way her tightness kept sucking him inside. The air that was once in his lungs had been punched from him as the tightness only made it harder for him to hold back. They breathlessly pant against one another’s lips as he continues to push his hips, until a small yelp rips from her throat when Ghost fully sheaths himself in her heat with one full thrust. Pushing the rest of his member inside of her aching walls.

(Y/n’s) eyes were closed shut as she focused on subsiding the little pain and the feeling of being completely full after what seemed like months. Just because she’s the only woman on the crew doesn’t mean she goes around looking for any man, even if she were the type to just mess around with any guy that paid her any mind just to lose some steam, she never had the time to do so. It was always work with her, if she wasn’t working she was in a meeting, if it wasn’t a meeting, she was getting ready for the next mission, if not she was working out or at the shooting range or simply just tuning her guns. So of course it had been a while since she’s been sexually active.

After what seemed like a minute or so in getting accustomed to his length and focusing on her breathing, she slowly opens her eyes, only for them to catch the moment when Ghost pulls off the remaining of his mask, revealing his flushed, scruff face to her. Dirty blonde locks rested on top of his head, beautifully light skin with a couple small scars claiming their spots on his face, and those eyes. Those eyes that have always seemed dark underneath that mask are now written with a different emotion. Despite the black paint covering those eyes, it wasn’t the cold, brutal Ghost staring down at her, no, it was only Simon Riley staring down at her with those bright blue orbs of his. It was also the look of, uncertainty, hesitation in his eyes that brought out Simon, he was observing her reaction now that she’s seen his face, he was anxiously waiting for her to say anything, but what made another breathless shutter slip from his mouth was the feeling of her small hand cradling the side of his jaw. Her warm, slim fingers rested against his cheek as a small welcoming smile spreads on her face, causing the corner of his lips to tug into a small smirk the same time her fingers slowly make their way at the back of his neck and threading them with his short locks at the base of his neck before slowly bringing his face down until their lips are once again molding with each other.

While lavishing each other’s lips, Ghost—Simon slowly withdraws his hips before thrusting back into her heat with a rough snap, bringing a gasp from her lips. Hot breath fanning against his mouth as he continues with his slow but rough pace. Feeling the way her walls constrict around him only ignites the burning flame in his stomach, causing his pace to quicken, his thrusts becoming much more firmer. Earning breathless moans and grunts to slip from their throats with each snap of his hips.

Despite the lingering pain she felt on her side from the rough movements, she could honestly careless about it, the feeling that quickly starts to build and form into a tight knot in her core helps her push aside the aching on her side. Especially when he repositions his hips a certain angle, hitting that spot in a delicious way that has her seeing stars, and also from the way he breathlessly groans against her ear with each thrust he sends her.

“Simon,” She breathlessly moans his name, eyes tightly shut, one hand gripping onto his wide shoulders while the other held tightly on to the hairs at the base of his neck,

The way she sings his name, his real name, every so often and tugs firmly at his now damped locks, only quickens his pace. Hips thrusting faster and deeper, causing her body to move with each snap, along with the beaten couch. Knowing she’s close to the edge by her constantly moaning his name and feeling her walls clench, Ghost slips a hand underneath her right leg and let’s it slightly dangle from his arm, which not only allows him a little more space to move but also grants him to drive deeper into her womb. Earning another beautiful sound to slip from her parted lips as he doesn’t halt his movements from the new position, instead he only moves his hips with much more force.

“Oh sh-shit!” She cries out loud at the rougher pace, moving the hand that rested heavily on his shoulder to the side of his sweaty neck,

After what seemed like the tenth snap of his hips she couldn’t help the way her nails rake against his skin, leaving painful red marks on his neck, earning a deep groan from the man above who only inflicts the same small pain on her by sinking his teeth on the side of her neck.

“Si-..Sim-… oh ffuck,” Her words immediately falter as a blissful wave of electricity rushes through her, causing her eyes to shut tightly and only dig her nails deeper into his skin as her orgasm slams through her like an anchor reaching the bottom of the ocean,

Mouth agape, eyes tightly shut, fingers gripping onto his hair at the base of his neck, she rides out her orgasm. Wave after wave crashes through her. The feeling was like no other, stronger than anything she’s felt, definitely strong enough to cause her body to start shaking from the intense orgasm that rushes through her, making her feel slightly light headed and making everything around her to sound muffled in her ears. As if that wasn’t enough, he continues to thrust into her, fucking her through her orgasm, fucking her into oblivion, fucking her till she became overstimulated, yet even then, he still doesn’t stop. Only quickens his pace, slamming his hips into her, hands leaving marks on her skin from how hard he gripped her as his own peak starts to rise.

Which didn’t take long. From the way her fingers gripped tightly on his hair, nails raking against his skin, moans, whimpers leaving her lips, and her walls tightening against him had him tilting towards the edge. A couple thrusts later, his hips begin stuttering, his pace slowing down as he was nearing the end. With one final thrust he quickly pulls out just as his seed begins spurting out of him, painting the outside of her folds.

“Fuck!” He groans deeply against her neck as his own orgasm over powers him, leaving his body stiff as a rock as he rides it out,

A soft moan rumbles in her throat as she feels his warmth hitting her core, feeling the way it slides down her folds and most likely onto the beaten couch. Seconds passed as he continued to hover over her, large hands keeping him upright as he gathers his breathing, face buried on the side of her neck while warm breaths fan her sweaty skin. Once the high begins subsiding, he gently places feathery kisses against her neck, definitely feeling the way she shivers from this and only continues in moving his lips upwards; underneath her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her lips before hovering just above them. Noses rubbing together he looks into her eyes, no words, just stares into her (E/c) orbs and hopes whatever he wanted to tell her was readable through his own half-lidded eyes.

She must’ve because just as he closes the little gap between them, he catches the way the corner of her lips tilt upwards, indicating that she knew exactly what he meant through his eyes. The softly mold their lips together, pouring every emotion into it, tongues gently tangling with one another, tracing the outline of each other’s mouths. It was just untold emotions that were being expressed by their mouths, and they cherished every ounce of it.

“Have I paid you back yet?” She questions after breaking the kiss, feeling the way her lips shift upwards against his own,

Blue yes scan her face. Observing her features, the small scar on her upper left eyebrow from a mission, her (E/c) eyes that he has grown to love, another scar on her bottom lip from where an old piercing had been looped around back in her teenage days and finally her smile. Oh how he had fell for her smile, it was the one thing that let him know that she was good, happy, excited, herself. He lived for her smile, loved the way it brought warmth to his chest, loved the way it made his stomach flutter, and it was also at that moment that he knew he had fallen in love with you. Did it scare him? Absolutely. Would he admit it to you? Yes, just not right away. He was never good at confessions, but he did know how to express them towards the right people, and she was definitely one of them.

A small smirk tugs on the soldiers lips, blue eyes softening the longer her stares at her, “Believe you still have a debt to pay once we’re outta here,”

A cheeky smile spreads on her face at his words, obviously liking that idea. After a second or two, his smirk fades away as he slowly bends down to connect their lips once again. She hums into the kiss and only lets her fingers cradle the back of his neck, gently massaging the muscle as they continue to pour their love into the kiss. Eventually, about another 5 or possibly 10 minutes of lazily kissing one another, they part away. Once making sure her wound hadn’t been damaged even more, they silently fix their clothes to get ready for their extraction. Once their vests are safely clipped on their torso, gun safely tucked its holster, they stand by the window as Simon reaches for the button on his radio. Mask still off and gripped with the other hand.

“All stations this is Ghost in the blind how copy?” He gruffly says into his mic, waiting patiently for a response,

Just as (Y/n) places her earpiece in place she hears the most beautiful Scottish accent ringing in her ear, bringing a wide smile on her face, “Lt? Nice to hear you’re voice again,”

“Can’t say the same,” A small smirk tugs on his lips as he glances at (Y/n), causing a soft chuckle to escape from her as she lightly punches his shoulder,

“(Y/n) with you?” The sergeant asks, making her chest warm up from his concern,

“Affirmative,” Simon response firmly, definitely ignoring the way jealousy rises in his chest from the way Soap calls her by her first name and not by her callsign,

A relieved sigh is heard through their comms along with, “Glad to know you’re still kickin’ and breathin’ Nova,”

Still smiling she clicks the button by her shoulder, “Can’t get rid of me that easy big guy who else will keep you out of trouble?”

A deep chuckle vibrates in her ear, “Definitely would miss my partner in crime,”

“I’ve send you our location Soap, give us an estimate on your status,” Simon interrupts their conversation with a crabby tone,

Silence is heard on their line for a couple minutes before Soap is filling their ears once again, “About 15 minutes Lt,”

“Copy,”

A relieved sigh leaves (Y/n’s) mouth, she couldn’t wait to head back to base, see medical, get some grub, shower and fall face first on her bed. What would make it even better if another body accompanied her in said bed, but she knew she wouldn’t have to ask, he’d follow her without question.

“Let’s go home,” She tells him with a warm smile,

Simon looks down at her, chest fluttering and lips slightly shifting upwards as he scans her smile. Switching his mask to his left hand, he lets his right hand softly cradle the side of her cheek before closing the little distance and gently latching their lips together. He pecks her lips once, twice, thrice before moving his lips towards her forehead and letting it linger there for a good five seconds before parting away to glance into her eyes.

“Stay close,”

Her hand softly wraps around his wrist, smile tugging on her lips, “Always,”

Simons lips slightly lift, wishing he can enjoy this moment longer but they both had to get going, dropping his hand from her face he quietly slips on his mask and tucks it in his jacket. Once they were set he grabs ahold of the knob and turns towards her, he sends her a nod which she returns.

“Let’s go,” He states, opening the door and checking his surroundings with his rifle in the air,

Once cleared he motions for her to follow, which she does, right on his heels, never falling behind. Even after Soap had found them and they both safely climbed on board, they never parted away, well at least Simon didn’t. He could have sat across from her, stood next to Soap to fill him in about how fucked up the mission went, but instead, he sat right next to her. A gloved skeleton hand fitting itself with her own, fingers tangling with each other and remaining that way throughout the whole ride back to base. Neither of them caring about who can see, but definitely not being able to hide the way a smile creeps on their face— well Simon was a able to— but not (Y/n) when Soap sends them a childlike smirk when he catches their hands at some point.

They didn’t know it, but he was smirking for two reasons. 1.) He was glad they had finally worked their shit out and finally come to their goddamn senses. And 2.) He had just won 60 bucks fair and square from both Gaz and Alejandro.

Of course neither of them needed to know about the bet that was placed on them, but like always, Simon found out. After witnessing Gaz and Alejandro slide some cash towards a smirking Johnny, he waited for the child to turn around, causing him to collide with his stiff of a body before smacking him upside down on the head, causing a burst of laughter to erupt from both Gaz and Alejandro as the Lieutenant walks away, leaving a pouting Johnny as he massages the back of his head. What neither of them saw, because of the mask, neither of them saw the way a huge grin was plastered on Simons face as he walked away, obviously satisfied and for once extremely happy. The happiness in his chest only grew once his eyes landed on (Y/n) coming out of medical, who was smiling back at him.

He really was home.

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-Hopefully y’all enjoyed this rather long Fic! I’ve actually spent way too much time on this when I should be spending the same amount of time on my Research Paper that’s due this week 🥲

-Anyways, Thank You Guys for your Constant Support! Love Y’all!!

-Also, I’ve already collaborated with an amazing artist for my next Ghost Fic!! So stay tuned for that!! Make Sure to Turn On Post Notifications!! 🔔 For the Updates!!

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[meyerlansky]

i think the thing that bugs me most about The Clevencourse, which mostly only exists in my mind when i'm trying to write shit, is... he should be my favorite. stoic, snarky under the stoicism, has a violent streak he keeps very tightly under control because he's terrified of what it would make him, ridiculously repressed romantically/sexually, COMPLETE control freak, sharp as a tack and in a Numbers way specifically, not great with people on a one-to-one basis but understands how groups work and that it's important to know the people you interact with, shorter/smaller than the guy he doms the fuck out of. i should be ALL OVER HIM.

but the narrative doesn't actually give him opportunities to let out that violent streak, it doesn't put his internal tension on display, everyone around him fawns over him CONSTANTLY and he never seems uncomfortable with it but doesn't really do anything with it either. and then the fan reaction to him [on here, i'm not gonna get into the reddit crowd's Wrong Takes because they're just as annoying to me but in a different direction] is either "perfect woobie who can do no wrong and needs to be protected" or "complete and utter freak who outpaces everyone ever for kink and violence and callousness"

and like. neither of those move me. neither of those feel true to me. i am absolutely fucking CAPTIVATED by bucky, who is not at ALL my usual type, but like i've said in other posts, there's a fundamental tension in him between his EXTREME self-centeredness—he doesn't care that curt doesn't want to hit him, he doesn't care that crank is making valid points about the cathedral, he doesn't want to sit on the ground safe while everyone else is fighting—and the fact that he is STILL, EVEN SO, a fundamentally decent dude who cares about keeping people safe, who signed up for a dangerous job to help right nazi germany's wrongs BEFORE pearl harbor, who's the one to say "we SHOULD fold them in" about the tuskegee airmen when gale is like "i don't think anything about them," who rerouted the whole group—at least a dozen crews, 120 men—to keep one fort [piloted by someone he Really Really Likes, at MINIMUM] from going down over trondheim, who very obviously cares about people In The Abstract AND in the directly personal. it's that tension that makes him FASCINATING to me.

and it's not that gale DOESN'T have that tension! he has just as much of it IF NOT MORE, centered aroundthe fact that he Wants and categorically Will Not Allow Himself To Have. he WANTS to beat the shit out of the RAF guys, but lets curt talk him down because he Shouldn't Want To. he snaps at friedkin that they're gonna take the FW gunfire, and then right away is like "you all did such a good job" over the radio so he doesn't look like an asshole to the rest of the crew. he was GOING TO SHOOT THAT KID, and he SHOULD'VE, because it would have been WAY more interesting for him to have a single moment of rage-fueled vengeance that then haunted him for the rest of his fucking life, but he doesn't, because he has to Look Good In The Narrative.

like, curt and friedkin have like the ONLY interesting not-bucky interactions with gale BECAUSE they see that ugly side of him—curt zeroes in on his violent streak and encourages it in the pre-regensburg convo with the "we could do some real damage" as opposed to something more palatable like "we could make a big difference" or something else less aggressive. friedkin is like a kicked dog for the entire rest of the episode after gale gets in his face and won't look at him head on again. everyone else just sees Perfect Major Cleven, including gale, who never really seems to or deal with or even be angsted by his own tension, just sort of goes on acting like he doesn't have some nasty shit in him, and it's so. boring.

[butyou-callmewhenyourebored]

This Must Be My Dream - Ross MacDonald Imagine

Summary:In which you meet the bassist of your childhood best friend's band at a wedding and pretty much fall head over heels for the handsome musician.

Warnings: None really. A few swear words. If you'd like a warning for them!

Author's Note: I love Ross. I literally go feral every single time I've seen him in the flesh for the past seven years! We don't get enough Ross love in this house. (fandom) Whilst you've all been thirsting over Healy for the past ten years. I've been over here falling in love with Ross and scraping the barrel for Ross content for the past decade! So I've taken it into my own hands! I hope you enjoy! p.s already writing a part two!

2.2k words

The first time you met Ross Macdonald properly was surprisingly not through your mutual friend Matthew but rather the day before your friend from university’s wedding. When she had called you up several months ago and asked you to be one of her bridesmaids, you couldn’t turn down the offer. After all she essentially kept you sane during your time at university. She was your best friend during those three years and although it had been a good few years since you really got to hang out due the nature of life. Rachel still classed you as one of her nearest and dearest.

During your time at the University of Manchester studying fashion marketing, you knew quite early on that you would need to find an extra curricular activity that wasn’t drinking your own body weight in cheap vodka. You needed something that would stimulate your mind but also keep you fit as you were sure that the further you got into your degree, the less time you would have to time to go the gym.

So you stumbled across cheer at the activities fair during your first year and you had seen Bring It On! It looked fun and it was would keep you in good shape, plus you were already a dancer from a young age so what could go wrong? Ohhh a lot could go wrong! You had to be strong mentally and physically to be a cheerleader, you had once watched a girl from an opposing team fall from a great height and break her ankle during competition one year and physically drag herself off the mat so she didn’t get trampled on by the rest of her team. It was brutal!

Going to practice twice a week whilst you trained in the gym was something you really enjoyed and looked forward to after a long week in lectures. It was there you met Rachel. The two of you instantly clicking from the first time you met. The decision to sign up to cheer led you to the woman who encouraged you to keep going when your degree was getting on top of you, stop you from wanting to strangle your idiotic housemates and drank her body weight in wine with you when you got fucked over by boys that weren’t worth your time in the first place.

You owed her your sanity. So when she asked you to be one of her bridesmaids, you just couldn’t refuse. It was the very least you could do for her. You went with her to every wedding dress appointment, beaming with joy when she found the one. Cried with overwhelming happiness when you both got too drunk on her hen do, about how you were so happy she had found David. 

You of course had met David over the years she had been with him and loved him to death too but you didn’t know anything about the men he had chosen for his groomsman. All you knew was that they were called James, Mike and Ross. What your friend had failed to mention when you turned up at the wedding venue the day before was the aforementioned Ross was an international musician and bandmate to your childhood best friend Matty.

You didn’t of course disclose that you had a mutual best friend and had essentially followed his career from the beginning upon first meeting. You didn’t want to overwhelm him and have him think you were an absolute loon who was an obsessed fan because he seemed so sweet and you didn’t want to give the handsome stranger the wrong impression. So you introduced yourself with your best smile and flick of your long brunette hair over your shoulder and told him it was great to meet him before moving along to greet the other groomsman.

You had all spent the evening before the wedding eating dinner, drinking wine, laughing and conversing with the rest of the wedding party and discussing the itinerary of the wedding day. Guessing what their first dance was going to be to and who was walking down the aisle with each other. You had been partnered up with the tall, handsome brunette currently sat opposite you.

The next time you saw him was the morning after as yourself and the other bridesmaids made your way towards the hall in which the wedding ceremony was taking place. Greeting all the gentleman with a warm smile as you got ready to walk down the aisle yourself, to watch your best friend get married to the love of your life.

You stopped in front of Ross. Your breath catching in your throat a little as you drunk in the sight in front of you. He looked devilishly handsome in his suit, a bright smile on his face as he leant down to greet you properly. A soft kiss to your cheek. Goosebumps prickling up your arms as his hands pressed against the small of your back.

“You look beautiful.” He whispered before pulling back. Standing up straight and offering you his arm, just as the welcome music started to play and you were making your way towards the groom who was waiting for you all.

It had happened so quick, you didn’t have time to melt into a puddle on the floor as the words replayed in your head because now you had an audience as your best friend was now walking towards the alter.

The next time you got to speak to him was whilst you were getting your photographs taken before the wedding breakfast. Naturally Rachel wanted the bridesmaids stood next to their partnered groomsmen whilst they took their group photos. You couldn’t help but laugh as he whispered, “I feel like we’re going to prom!” into your ear, as he hands sat loosely on your waist. It took everything in you not cackle like a witch, like you usually do whilst you tried not to ruin the photos for everybody.

Rachel had seated you right next to Ross for the duration of the wedding and the more the day went on and the more you learnt about the man next to you, the more comfortable you felt by his side. You weren’t sure if it was all the wine talking or if it was the fact he was the sweetest (and incredibly handsome) human you had ever met but being next to him just felt right.

During the speeches; you had felt yourself turn naturally into him, leaning against his arm that was lying across the back of your chair as you listened to their family tell their favourite stories about the couple. Your hand even slipped onto his thigh as the room laughed along. It was in the way he didn’t flinch but pulled your chair closer to his without batting an eyelid, you knew that it was okay.

Your hand stayed comfortably on his thigh even as the desserts came out. This angel of a man even letting you try some of his because you had ordered something different and his just looked insanely good. Anyone that didn’t know the two of you would have watched him feed you a spoonful of his dessert and think that you were a couple yourselves and not having met twenty four hours earlier. And you know what you’d let them because you hadn’t felt this giddy around a man in so long, you didn’t care. There wasn’t a moment throughout the day that you didn’t feel fully submerged in happiness caused by him.

When he spun you around the dance floor, the two of you beaming as you sung along to the Backstreet Boys’ As Long As You Love Me together without a care in the world. When he didn’t think twice to pull you into his warm body, his large hand pressed against the small of your back, holding you close as the DJ asked for everyone to join the bride and groom on the dance floor after their first dance and you swayed in his arms to the love song that was playing with a warm blush flushed across your cheeks. 

You were happy and you didn’t want to think about if Rachel and David paired you up with another groomsman or they hadn’t invited Ross to the wedding at all because in your hectic life and with too many fuckboys than you can shake a stick at. Today was honestly the happiest you had been in so long, it made you feel dizzy thinking about how this had even happened with a guy you had only known from afar in less than twenty fours.

Pulling him up to the bar for more drinks. After successfully (and very easily) convincing him to do a tequila shot with you. You finally told him that you had a confession to make. You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed in anticipation of what he thought was you confessing you already had a boyfriend back home. You automatically reached out to rest your hand on top of his before letting him in on your secret.

“You know I said earlier that I knew of your band and I was a fan?” You watched him nod silently. “Well the reason is not because you’re the biggest band in the world right now. But I’m actually a friend of Matty’s.”

You had watched his face immediately fall and with the fact that the two of you both knew Matty as well as you do. You knew exactly why a frown fell on to his face the way it did and you needed to put his mind at ease because you also didn’t want other people to think that of you.

“No. No! Not like that. Christ no! Matthew is gross!” You chuckled, shaking your head at him as you looked at him with a soft smile. “Tim and Denise are my god parents!”

You watched Ross’ shoulders drop with relief, letting out that glorious laugh of his that had been making your heart flutter all day. Amongst over things. After explaining your reasons for not wanting to seem like a crazy person by dropping you knew his bandmate really well within ten seconds of meeting him and that you wanted to get to know him by yourself. Ross nodded appreciatively, a content look on his handsome features as he smiled back at you. He wasn’t weirded out. Thank God. 

Holding out your hand, he instantly wrapped his hand in yours as you dragged him through a throng of people as you headed back to the dance floor to dance with the bassist. He naturally pulled you into his arms to slow dance along to A Million Love Songs by Take That that was nearing its end and transitioning into a song they both knew all too well.

The opening bars of The Sound echoed through the reception hall. A few people made a noise of appreciation on the dance floor, some got up to dance along. Ross immediately entered flight or fight mode in an attempt to escape the dance floor. You knew he was going to do this so your smaller hand wrapped around his larger one, instantly tugging him to a halt, you looked up at him with your best doe eyes.

“Please.” You begged softly. “I love this one.”

Sighing over dramatically. Ross made his way back to you, the smile you had grown accustomed to throughout the past eight hours you had been by his side was back on his face as you sung the words obnoxiously loud to try and make him laugh again. Succeeding pretty quickly; you wrapped your arms around his neck, hanging off him as you danced goofily with one another. His hands around your waist as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

The pair of you stayed on the dance floor, avoiding the smirk on Rachel’s face as she glided on past you during another slow song until all the guests were called outside for the fireworks. Without hesitation; Ross slipped his suit jacket around your shoulders before you naturally leant against his chest; his chin resting on top of your head, arms wrapped around your shoulders as you watched the firework display together.

After the rest of the wedding guests started to disperse either back inside or off home. The two of you stayed there under the stars, just basking in the last of the warm summer air before you called it a night yourselves. It felt like kismet that you two were to meet. Maybe it was today. Maybe it ten years ago. Maybe in another life time. But turning in his arms; arms already tucked round his middle as you looked up at him to catch his gaze. Ross ran a hand down the side of your face, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as he cupped your jaw. Your heart thumping as you longed for what you hoped was about to happen.

“I can’t believe Healy has kept you from me all this time.” He chuckled softly.

“Believe me. I’m going to be having words with him.”  You told him with a smirk.

“I’ve had the best time with you today. I’m glad it was you.” 

The grip on your jaw tightened ever so slightly as the oxygen hitched in your throat at the action. “Yeah, I suppose we should thank them at some point.” You mumbled; pausing a moment before pushing yourself up on your tip toes as he leant down and met you in the middle. Your lips connecting in the sweetest kiss. The pair of you pushing up against one another as your kiss got deeper causing you to groan into his kiss before pulling back for air.

“Fuck!” You let our a breathy laugh; forehead resting against his. Staring into his glistening brown eyes, he responded with his infectious laugh. 

“Yeah" Ross sighed against you. "Fuck!” He grinned before pulling you into another deep kiss.

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

What do you think TF141 zodiacs are? Plus whoever else you want (could be other OCs!)

- Sincerely, annoying anon

You are not annoying!!

I had to recruit the help of my dearest @eenochian because I know next to nothing about zodiacs (but it's very interesting) and I love her take

Short answer

gaz: september virgo w/ pisces rising

soap: april taurus w/ gemini rising

price: may gemini w/ virgo rising

ghost: capricorn (dec. or jan.) w/ libra rising

Gaz: september virgo w/ pisces rising

so Gaz is 100%, without a doubt, a fellow virgo to me. Virgo men are known for being problem solvers. Good guides, very down to earth, prefers clean and organized environments – both physical and mental. They get along with most people fairly well because they’re very mutable (meaning they can change or adapt as needed), but it’s hard to get past those inner walls, so most of those people are just surface level relationships, with a select few getting that deeper connection. Yet another hard worker and complete workaholic, very rational, calculative yet extremely adaptive, efficient, and very adventurous – basically the perfect problem-solver. Another thing virgo men prioritize is what’s right, and when someone wrongs them, they do not forget. They feel very deeply and have a sharp intuition that lets them see past another person’s deceit, which is yet another reason why they err towards keeping smaller circles and keeping closed off until they trust someone. Extremely helpful, kind, and considerate to those they care about. As for how this pertains to our lovely Gaz: In my opinion (feel free to disagree) he’s probably the most sensitive member of the 141. His intuition and rapid problem-solving skills are insanely advanced, and between his emotions surrounding the interrogation with The Butcher and his family in MW19, Graves and Shepherd’s betrayals, Farah’s story, and how he handles those complicated missions like Piccadilly Circus, Countdown, Recon by Fire, and Highrise… I mean, I could go on for too many messages about why this man screams virgo to me.

As for his rising sign… Libra was a very tempting option due to his strong sense of justice, but I went with pisces because a pisces ascendant usually indicates that a man is very sensitive, compassionate, intuitive, stubborn, adaptable, and on occasion a little too humble to the point of almost being shy. In my opinion, Gaz is a man who dreams so big that he frustrates himself with not being able to reach those unrealistic goals. A bit of the “save the world” mentality with him, y’know. Despite being incredibly talented and adaptable in almost all situations, he has his moments where that frustration over his idealistic goals not playing out leads to him feeling stuck and starting to doubt himself (cough his intro in MW19). He’s very persuasive and communicative, and very skilled in a group that he feels at ease in. He does things the way he wants to do them and struggles with following advice or orders (unless he respects the person and/or agrees with it) because he’s got such a strong intuition. Like I said, very compassionate, and also always eager to help wherever and whenever he can. Very humble and even mysterious at times because he’s on the quieter side, takes a long time to think before coming to any decision, but also has a very imaginative, creative, and social side when in a good environment for it.

Soap:april taurus w/ gemini rising

their #1 most defining trait is their fucking stubbornness. But, that’s not necessarily a bad thing – they’re stubborn bulls (hence the name lmao), but they’re also incredibly persistent and very steadfast! Once they’ve got their mind set on something, there is nothing on this planet that can stop them. Just think about Soap’s backstory and how he joined the SAS; he tried (and failed) for years to lie about his age to get in earlier and, once he did manage to get in, he immediately started setting records and relentlessly pushing to do more. Taurus men are also loyal to a fault. Very strong sense of duty, very reliable, and a hard worker who demands the best of himself and expects everyone around him to put in their best effort. He’s very down-to-earth and likes to plan things out, always trying to make the most rational (and just) decision in any given situation. If that isn’t Johnny “Fucking Military Prodigy” MacTavish, idk what is lol

a gemini ascendent would indicate that he’s very lively and charming, very active (both mentally and physically), extremely intelligent and quick-witted, a great conversationalist snd social expert, very animated, and overall just a very playful and fun personality. Of course, everything comes with its flaws – this would be yet another indicator that he’s somewhat impatient and even has a bit of a shorter attention span. Not because he’s stupid, the short attention span is a result of him simply moving too fast – again, both mentally and physically. He’s very inquisitive and curious about everything around him, so he ends up being super distractible because he’s wanting to look at everything all at once. Another sorta “negative” trait is also the fact that he can be manipulative. I don’t really see this with Soap, but my mom’s also a gemini rising and I don’t see it with her, either. I think it’s more or less what could happen if a gemini ascendent abuses that inherent charm and social skill that they have. Also worth noting that it’s a sign he’s a bit flirty. I don’t think anyone’s shocked by that one. Also known to be adventurous, which does contrast with his sun sign’s innate desire for stability and routine. You’d think that would lead to issues, but in reality, the focus and discipline that comes from his sun sign perfectly melds together with how scattered and flexible he can be, which leads to him being very adaptable (even if it causes stress)! His ascendent also helps alleviate some of that very serious side that comes from his sun sign.

Price: may gemini w/ virgo rising

Now, an important thing to remember about a gemini is that gemini represents a dual nature. It’s the twins of the zodiac. That being said, Price is going to sound a lot like Soap at first. Gemini men are talkative and not usually shy (this can change when you throw in some virgo), but a key point is that they’re very good communicators. They’re very charismatic and excel in any sort of social environment – he’s “the guy that knows a guy” because he’s a very curious person who wants to meet and experience everyone around him. Just think about how many allies Price has and how heavily he prioritizes forming bonds with the people he works with. Leading off of him wanting to experience the people around him – gemini men are notoriously victim to their whims. He will do what he wants to do, without regard for random bullshit like “rules” or “authority” or comments like “that’s a US general you just killed” and “Price you just set off a missile over Washington DC”

He is extremely adaptable (again, dual nature) and restless, and he will get bored with people who can’t keep up with his mind. Constantly tries to surround himself both with people who can teach him new things and people he can teach. Now, it sounds like I’m saying he’s selfish and all about “me, me, me!!” But, he’s really not. Again, dual nature. Gemini men can easily lift a mood because they’re such light and vibrant personalities, turn any bland or dull situation into something better with a joke or a witty comment. Depending on his mood (or the time of day lol), he can be the most charming man in the room or your worst nightmare. A very versatile personality, really.

So, a virgo ascendent can best be summarized in three words: Observant, disciplined, and nurturing. I don’t think anyone will be shocked by Price being called any of those things. Virgo ascendents would be considered pretty classic perfectionists (this is not universal) by a lot of people. And, the description isn’t wholly inaccurate. They’re very detail-oriented and critical, both of their own work and the work of others – the details are what make up the big picture, so every detail will be planned to a T. All t’s crossed and i’s dotted, y’know. He enjoys things being orderly, so he’ll do what he must to keep everything and everyone neatly filed and organized (that being said, I headcanon him as having a messy system of organization lmao). Continuing in the theme of details, he is extremely observant. Like, noticing your breathing pattern is different when you get anxious levels of observation. You think you can hide something from him? Think again. This is part of how he shows his care for people, because virgo is a sign of mutability and shyness – show, don’t tell. Emotional intelligence isn’t as hyped up as the immense levels of practical intelligence he has, but it’s very much present in his day-to-day life. Again, bouncing off the last topic, he’s nurturing. Virgo is the maiden, it’s very caring, gentle, maternal, and sensitive, even though anyone under it will deny these things (again, shyness). It might sound ironic to call Price maternal, but, by god, he is. His observational skills and attention to detail are what allow him to pick up on the subtlest change in anyone he cares about, and he cares about those select people greatly. He doesn’t let just anyone get close to him, his special circle is reserved for those few he can trust. As for the combined effects of these signs… very analytical and critical personality, mainly of himself, but others, too. He’s not a showboat, he’s modest and prefers to let his actions speak for himself. Also… somewhat of a control freak. Not because he’s weird and domineering, but who better to trust than himself? Knowing that he’s in control and he’s determining the circumstances helps him feel secure – it’s a reflex, a natural desire. Very good instincts and intuition. His problem is second-guessing and doubting himself when he just needs to trust his gut. Innate skill in problem-solving that Gaz shares. Now, here’s the kicker: despite being all about practical problem-solving, he uses that sense of humor and caretaking nature as an excuse to distance himself from his own problems. It will require someone else (like a partner or close confidant) to make him confront those, and actually feeling secure enough to open up is a whole other obstacle.

Ghost: capricorn (dec. or jan.) w/ libra rising

his sun sign being capricorn means that, in his thinking and personality, he is a very mature, hardworking individual, with a lot of passion for what he does and determination. strong, wise, very dour and serious, yet there exists a more humorous side that you really only see when he lightens up around people he trusts. he’s a workaholic, very much prioritizes the substance and quality of what he does, and he likes being in control, both personally and professionally. dislikes a lot of change happening, but he’s not as bad as some other signs.

also, specifically in love… very subtle. not big on crazy displays, very loyal, doesn’t enjoy messing around and playing a bunch of games. as for his ascendent/rising sign being libra: i based this purely on his humor and sense of justice. above all, libras of any breed heavily prioritize fairness, equality, order, and doing what’s “right.” they’re on the quieter side, but very vocal and active when it comes to peacemaking matters. for ghost specifically, i was thinking about how there’s that sense of humor, since libras are often considered very charming and have very curious minds, which leads to them wanting to explore and experience new things to gain more life experience

Nikolai:

Now THIS asshole... Gemini? Sure. Sagittarius? Sure. Taurus? Capricorn? Maybe even Leo? Sure, sure, sure… but, no. Gripping Nik like a stress ball This is a Scorpio. TEXTBOOK. Rising sign? Not any of the ones I said before, no, no, no… This bastard’s got an Aries ascendent.

Now, OCs... she is fantastic and I think she nailed them all

Riot’s canonically a virgo, and yeah that makes sense. Open up a zodiac textbook, look at “virgo,” and it’s a picture of her. As for her ascendent… feels like she’d have a classically feminine one. This may sound controversial, but she’s giving scorpio.

So, a Virgo sun and Scorpio ascendent is a… how would I describe it… an intense combination, really. Riot is a perfectionist and very detail-oriented person thanks to her sun sign. Whether it’s work, hobby, interpersonal relationships, etc. etc…. She likes order, she likes feeling in control, she’s practical and meticulous yet has a gentle and nurturing side, and she’s not one to boast. As typical with a Virgo, she’s humble and shy and lets her actions speak for herself. She is reliable, she is observant, she is diligent, and she is the person you can go to for just about anything.

As for the combination, think of her as a perfectionist with a twist. That Scorpio brings in a very intense and passionate nature that you don’t see with the muted Virgo, and she’s got this layer of mystery that makes it all the more rewarding to gain her trust. She’s not just a problem-solver, she is someone who will solve the problem and make sure it never happens again. Any potential issue? Taken care of. Any quirks that need to be worked out? Done. She’s a very reliable person who can be trusted with pretty much anything, even the repulsive tasks (cough the black ops shit cough). It sounds like she’s all seriousness, but she’s not, I swear. Her issue is just that she suppresses her emotions and makes every effort against expressing herself, which leads to anxiety and nerves and soooo much built-up tension. That being said – she does all of this whilst craving someone who understands her. Not just anyone, but someone who wants to understand and unravel those mysteries that her Virgo reticence and Scorpio secrecy demands she keeps locked up tight. When she’s actually feeling at ease and/or with people she likes and trusts, she’s all about making them happy. Creating a good environment, serving them to show her love and care, being that safe space for people to rely on – people feel comfortable around her because she’s got this magnetic personality (Scorpio trait) and this honest, gentle nature that makes her seem very approachable. Overall, she’s simultaneously a mystery and someone who yearns to share. Lots of trust issues, insecurities, and constantly has something rotating in the back of her mind and probably causing her quite a bit of stress. What she needs is to be understood and reassured that her loyalty and sensitivity won’t hurt her. Also, Scorpio ascendent explains why she and Nikolai get along

For Mini ( @sofasoap )… come on, that girl is a taurus in any universe. She’d have gemini rising if she’s Soap’s twin, which does apply pretty damn well to her, but in my (eenochian's) universe where she’s not a twin, I’m getting sagittarius rising from her (it takes one to know one).

As for Petra ( @eenochian ), she’s a cancer. Her rising sign… I never really thought about it before today, but I think she and Price are twinning on the virgo rising. Definitely an earth sign, at least. I just give her too many of my own traits lmao. Now, Zhar… she is my Everest.

I want to say an earth sign for Zhar ( @nrdmssgs ). Virgo, taurus, or capricorn. She’s a practical woman, pretty introverted and reserved in my opinion, but no… no, it’s the demons trying to convince me that she’s an earth sign. an aquarius if I’ve ever seen one. As for her rising sign… Cancer. Petra loves her and trusts her for a reason.

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

The Waves are Rising and Rising

|Beginning| |Previous| Chapter 3

Chapter 4 will be up on Friday!

--//--

Jinlintai is, somehow, precisely the same as when he left.

That seems… wrong.

There are many ways in which Jin Guangyao’s life can be segmented, times in which something so momentous has happened that there is a distinct before and an equally distinct after; without fail, those times have come with not only a change in his own personal life but a change in… well, everything, really.

Before a-niang died, the world was better for her being in it. After, the cruel nature of men hurt far worse than when she could shield him from the worst of the worst. Before Nie Mingjue raised him up to one single step below the highest rank in his Sect, Meng Yao had thought he would spend the next decade at least trying to earn such a position. After, he’d had some small taste of power and the Nie Sect had enjoyed a time of well-organised prosperity the likes of which they never had before. Before his expulsion, he’d felt relatively secure both in his position and in Nie Mingjue’s regard; after, nothing at all had seemed certain as the world descended into war.

There is always a Before. There is always an After.

It seems as if Jinlintai should not be identical now that he’s living in a new after, now that he’s had (quite frankly, terrible) sex with his sworn brothers, now that he knows what it’s like to see them both naked and vulnerable and still so much themselves that it was sort of… worth it, in a way, if enduring the terrible sex meant he could at least be part of that intimacy.

Perhaps, he thinks as he walks, unseeing, through the corridors back to his own rooms to freshen up after his travelling, Jinlintai hasn’t changed in the aftermath because it’s him who has been irrevocably, visibly, altered by the events of the last 48 hours. His pace quickens ever so slightly, nothing faster than his norm on a busy day, as he fears that it’s somehow still visible on him somewhere, some irrefutable evidence marring his carefully-constructed perfection that will announce to everyone who sees him, ‘Look at me! I’ve just fucked my sworn brother!’

“Ridiculous,” Jin Guangyao mutters to himself and quickens his pace a little more… just to be safe.

His room, just like the rest of Jinlintai, is precisely the same as he left it. That, somehow, feels even stranger than the rest of it. How can this, his most private space that should reflect him and his thoughts, be utterly unchanged after everything he’s just done? He forces himself to ignore the sensation in favor of cleaning himself up as quickly as he can, little more than a perfunctory scrub with the cloth draped over the side of the wash basin in the corner of his small space (he attempts not to flush as he pays particular attention to the space between his legs, but doing so means he thinks about why he swears he can still feel something flaky and itchy on his thighs despite his equally perfunctory scrub in his guest quarters, and he is still human, after all).

Once clean, he dabs fresh oil on the ends of his hair for a bit of perfume and re-dresses in clothes that don’t smell at all of the crisp pine-scented air of Qinghe. He checks that the vermillion between his brows is still perfect and settles his hat in place again, and in less time than it takes to prepare a pot of tea Jin Guangyao is entirely himself again.

Like this it’s difficult to believe that… all of that truly happened. He looks at his slightly-distorted reflection and hunts for the signs that must be there that he’s fundamentally changed, but there’s nothing. There’s not even a mark in the shape of a hand or a mouth left behind, certainly nothing visible while fully dressed, and as much as he knows that’s good and necessary he can’t help but feel… disappointed. How can he know it happened if there’s no evidence of it? It all feels too much like a dream, hazy and surreal despite the fact that he knows that if he were to exert even the smallest effort to try he would be able to recall every moment of it — good and bad — in perfect detail.

His face warms again and he shoves all thoughts of Qinghe and his sworn brothers into a nice cozy box and slams the lid shut.

There are many things he’ll have to catch up on, there always are after he spends any amount of time away from Lanling. It’s nice to think that his presence is so vital already to the operation of Jinlintai that his absence from it is felt so keenly; it’s evidence of how much value the Sect — his father — places on his work. That doesn’t make catching up any less stressful, however, and so Jin Guangyao finishes his useless self-scrutinizing with a quick shake of his head and pats himself down to make sure all his layers are in place before he leaves his rooms again in a sweep of silk to begin tackling the list of what he’s missed.

He meets with the accountant first to go over the latest Sect expenditures; this Sect bleeds money, Jin Guangyao has found, simply because it can, even now after the war has emptied the coffers of the rest of the Great Sects. The books need constant balancing, and his theory that the head accountant is accustomed to skimming some extra allowance for himself off the top can remain unconfirmed so long as the man is too aware of his watchful eye (and perfect memory) to feel comfortable continuing to do so.

It takes the better part of a shichen to ensure the latest invoices from various merchants and establishments in Lanling are properly sorted and paid, and by the time Jin Guangyao steps out of the cloyingly warm and incense-redolent office there are two servants waiting for him, clearly each on different errands as one is one of Jin-furen’s personal handmaids and the other one of Jin Guangshan’s preferred serving girls. He offers them both a smile, but there is no question as to whose errand is to be given precedence and so he turns to the younger of the two expectantly.

“Jin-zongzhu is taking the evening meal in his garden,” she reports with her eyes properly downcast. “He wishes Lianfang-zun to attend him.”

Not ‘join’ he notes. ‘Attend’.

He takes a deep breath in as silently as he can as he turns his unmoving smile on the second servant, Jin-furen’s.

“Jin-furen has summoned Lianfang-zun for a personal matter,” she tells him, not quite able to hide the wince that signifies this ‘personal matter’ is something that’s stoked her temper.

“Please offer my apologies to muqin, I will come to her as soon as fuqin has no more need of me.”

The handmaid bows and retreats to pass along the news to Jin-furen that her husband has thwarted her in her favorite pastime, which will likely mean that her temper will be even worse by the time Jin Guangyao finds her, but that simply can’t be helped. The serving girl bows as well but she waits for him to straighten himself out so she can lead him through Jinlintai quite unnecessarily and deliver him a few minutes later to his father in his private courtyard.

The meal is, thankfully, already laid, though it’s immediately clear that yes he really is here to ‘attend’ to Jin Guangshan like any other servant, as there’s only one place setting and it certainly isn’t for him.

“Fuqin,” he greets with a bow, deeper than is technically required of him; Jin Guangshan does nothing to correct it, as always.

“Guangyao,” Jin Guangshan replies, and though his expression doesn’t change Jin Guangyao can tell that his mood sours ever so slightly despite the fact that he’d asked for Jin Guangyao to come to him.

“You may leave us now,” Jin Guangyao instructs the serving girl hovering nervously at his side. Her relief is palpable as she bows and scurries away as quickly as could be considered proper to find some other task that won’t involve being at risk of a passing grope from her Sect Leader.

“You returned quickly from Qinghe.” Jin Guangyao steps forward to take up post at his father’s side, hands folded demurely over his stomach and his eyes properly downcast, though he can’t help but grit his teeth against the frustration of being expected to play at being a servant.

“My work here should not be neglected.”

“Quite right. Still, there are things that can be done in Qinghe that would be worth delaying your precious ledgers for.”

Jin Guangyao doesn’t allow his expression to so much as twitch, no matter how badly he wants to raise an eyebrow at the disparaging tone. The accountant must have complained to Jin Guangshan about his involvement, he supposes, but there’s no denying that the Sect’s profits have ‘miraculously’ increased since his arrival, and in the end his father cares about having ever-more money for his pleasures much more than he does any one person’s complaints.

“Fuqin?”

“Did I or did I not inform you of my… thoughts in regards to Nie Mingjue?”

In the way of all prey suddenly finding themselves the subject of their predator’s undivided attention, Jin Guangyao goes very, very still.

“Yes, fuqin.”

Jin Guangshan lapses into an ominous silence for a few moments to sample some of the plethora of dishes arranged in front of him, leaving Jin Guangyao waiting on pins and needles for whatever he may say next; there’s no telling with Jin Guangshan, usually, which means that there’s no way of knowing what he can say in the meantime to attempt to do a bit of preemptive damage control.

The silence drags on, broken only by the quiet clinking of ceramic and Jin Guangshan’s unhurried chewing. He washes a bite down with a few long gulps of tea and sets the empty cup down with a hard clack! that makes Jin Guangyao jump, just the smallest twitch of his shoulders. He follows the unspoken order to refill it, kneeling gracefully next to the table and pouring a fresh cup of fragrant tea with perfect form.

“You’ve disappointed me, Guangyao,” Jin Guangshan sighs. It takes a supreme effort not to dip into a kowtow and begin apologising, to instead finish pouring the tea and set the pot back down just so in its place, to ensure that the table continues to be arranged to his father’s liking.

“I thought, perhaps foolishly, that I’d made your position in this household perfectly clear.”

“Fuqin is never foolish,” Jin Guangyao says instantly and tries not to hear Lan Xichen’s gentle voice in the back of his mind (and Nie Mingjue’s much less gentle voice beside it) chastising him for lying.

“Did you do anything at all whilst in Qinghe to acquire the sort of information I require to weaken that oaf’s influence over the rest of the sects? Did you do anything to make him less of an irritant to me?”

He was our general, he doesn’t say. He deserves that respect, no matter how you hate him.

Jin Guangyao takes a deep breath in and reminds himself that, in the hierarchy of men he should hold in regard, his father must come first. His father does come first, and it’s only his own momentary weakness that distracted him from properly utilising the opportunity that being in Qinghe had given him, that led to him returning empty-handed.

Except… well. He did get information. He got information that could, if wielded skillfully enough, strip quite a lot of shine off of Nie Mingjue’s righteous reputation amongst the rest of the cultivation world.

Gossip is a powerful tool, particularly amongst the common people and the servants of the Great Sects, and everyone knows that if enough mouths sing the same tune, it must of course be true.

What would the cultivation world do if it became common knowledge that Chifeng-zun, righteous and just nearly to a fault, is dabbling so close to demonic cultivation (that all the Nies walk that fine line, with those resentful sabres of theirs) that his health is suffering so desperately that without intervention he’ll succumb to the same madness as his forefathers sooner rather than later, younger than any Nie leader before him? And what would they say if they heard, through the grapevine of course, that his response to learning this was to proposition his sworn brothers; to beg them to take him to bed and fuck him like some common whore in an attempt to use cheap cultivation tricks to hide the truth?

It wouldn’t be enough to ruin him, of course. His reputation is built on years of working hard to truly earn the respect his lucky birth had already afforded him; but it would certainly be a heavy blow, and Jin Guangyao already knows exactly how Jin Guangshan would seek to widen the crack in his armour and leave him, in the end, politically weakened enough that he could no longer stand in the way of Jin Guangshan’s climb to the seat Wen Ruohan has so recently been forced to evacuate.

He could be the unseen hands that drag Nie Mingjue at least a few steps down from the pedestal that the entire jianghu has placed him on. He could have revenge for the day Nie Mingjue stripped him of everything he’d been given and thrown him out to make his own way in the world, alone and injured. He could fight against Nie Mingjue, and for once he could win.

But… if word of their activities were to get out, of the five people who know about the dual cultivation Nie Mingjue would naturally suspect Jin Guangyao of spreading the information before he would anyone else. In that event, no matter his protestations, no matter how desperately Lan Xichen would try to intercede, Nie Mingjue would never, ever trust him again. There would be no small hope of civility or reconciliation this time. Nie Mingjue would hate him for the rest of their lives — even more than he already does.

Bile rises in the back of his throat.

“Well?!” Jin Guangshan snaps, clearly at the end of his patience. This time Jin Guangyao does drop into a kowtow beside his father’s low seat. It pulls double duty, conveying the sincerity of his apology as well as hiding his face from his father’s sharp gaze.

His mouth moves mechanically, with no input from his mind. “This unfilial son apologises. I intend to return to Qinghe soon, I will not disappoint you a second time.”

Jin Guangshan snorts over his head, voice dripping with oily-slick disdain to sneer, “Your promises are worthless. Bring me results, Guangyao, or else what use are you to me?”

Jin Guangyao lingers in the kowtow, eyes squeezed shut against the sight of the stone tile a mere inch away from his nose.

“...Yes, fuqin.”

Jin Guangyao stays put in his deep bow for long enough that the small of his back begins to twinge, his hip threatening to lock and catch if he doesn’t at least straighten soon. He barely hears his father’s irritated admonition to stand and return to his post past the way the next warning twinge makes his head spin a little, distracting and immediate. He rolls upright to his knees and then from there to his feet, knees and ankles clicking quietly enough that he can hide the noise with the rustling of his robes as he readjusts them and brushes the dust from the front.

“What of the other matter we discussed?” Jin Guangshan eventually prompts when he’s nearly finished his meal, simply dismissive now rather than angry. It should be safe enough to proceed, then.

“Wei Wuxian continues to behave erratically,” Jin Guangyao reports, relieved that he’d received the latest missive from his spies in Yunmeng prior to leaving for Qinghe (the return to something from Before is strangely reassuring). “The construction continues slowly in Lotus Pier, Jiang-zongzhu’s goal appears to be a perfect reconstruction of what was lost rather than any improvements or simple utility to rebuild as quickly as possible. There are also murmurs among the disciples when they drink in Yunmeng inns and teahouses that Wei Wuxian and Jiang-zongzhu are frequently at odds.”

“Oh?”

“Mm. Wei Wuxian continues to refuse to carry his sword and no longer fulfils his duties as head disciple. One of the Jiangs’ early recruits from the Sunshot Campaign currently trains the shidimei in his place.”

Jin Guangshan sits back in his seat to stroke his thin beard, looking pensively at the beautifully appointed koi pond some few feet away. Gold-red flashes chase each other lazily through crystal clear water, glinting in the sun, and Jin Guangshan’s eyes track their circling like a cat waiting to pounce.

“It will take little effort to ensure Wei Wuxian’s reputation continues to suffer, he does more than half the work for us,” Jin Guangshan muses. “And what of Jiang Yanli?”

Jin Guangyao dips into a little half-bow from the waist, hands pressed neatly to his stomach. “Jiang-guniang may soon be prepared to accept our offer, should fuqin be so benevolent to extend it again. The excuse of rebuilding is nearing the end of its plausibility, and to refuse another offer from her once-betrothed could be perceived as a deeper insult than they are in a position to offend the Jin Sect with.”

Everyone knows that Yunmeng Jiang is as proud as they are carefree. Wei Wuxian’s infamous arrogance is checked by Jiang Wanyin’s glares and Jiang Yanli’s gentle admonishing, everyone has seen it, but his arrogance is far from unusual. In fact, one could say that the cultivation world’s problem with it stems not from the fact that it’s arrogance, but that the circumstances of Wei Wuxian’s birth should never have afforded him the freedom to be so arrogant in the first place, no matter the skills he’s acquired throughout the years. And he is, unequivocally, a genius of cultivation and an extremely talented disciple — unfortunately for his worst detractors, his arrogance is built on a firm bedrock of skill that can easily support the weight of his attitude.

But is it strong enough to stand against the targeted machinations of the entire cultivation world? Jin Guangyao doesn’t believe so, and neither does Jin Guangshan. Wei Wuxian’s arrogance is a strength in many ways, but it is also a weakness that’s laughably easy to exploit, especially if his own shidi — his own Sect Leader — is unwilling to lend him his support at the risk of his own pride, or the pride of his extremely vulnerable Sect. A small part of the reason for the slow rebuilding of Lotus Pier is that the artisans and engineers doing the construction are doing it to exacting standards that must be approved by Jiang Wanyin at every step of the way; but, more importantly, the Jiang also simply can’t afford to pay for the work to move any faster than it is. If Jiang Wanyin’s political and financial standing are both put in danger by his wayward disciple’s arrogance, who in their right mind wouldn’t sacrifice the personal relationship to save their public face?

Jiang Wanyin, as a young Sect Leader rebuilding his Sect after the decimation of war, has bigger things to worry about than upsetting an adopted brother slowly going mad from exposure to the resentful energy he’d commanded during the Sunshot Campaign.

“We need only apply the right pressure at the right time,” Jin Guangyao promises his father, certain that Wei Wuxian’s destruction is a matter of when, not if. “He grows more unstable by the day; it is only a matter of time before he does something shameless publicly. When he does, it will drive the wedge further between himself and Jiang-zongzhu and leave them both too vulnerable to protect themselves or each other.”

Jin Guangshan hums, considering. Jin Guangyao lapses back into silence at the cue signalling that his father would like to think uninterrupted. He finishes eating in silence and Jin Guangyao kneels to begin stacking the dishes into neat piles for whoever will be sent to take them back to the kitchens. Thankfully, even when his father demands that Jin Guangyao act as his servant, that part of the chore is still far enough beneath him that he can avoid further humiliation in front of the servants.

“Suggest to Zixuan that when it’s time to invite the Jiang Sect to Lanling next, he should take the invitation himself,” Jin Guangshan finally instructs. “Jiang Wanyin is foolish but practical — they cannot truly afford to do the work necessary to rebuild Lotus Pier to its full glory, certainly not if he wishes to continue to recruit more disciples who will need food and clothing. There are not so many nighthunts going in and around Yunmeng that the cost of his projects can be offset by the villages, they’ll be looking for an alliance with us soon enough. Wei Wuxian will either attempt to argue the proposal and do nothing to endear himself to Jiang Wanyin, or else he will be brought to heel long enough to allow the courtship to proceed, and with Jiang Yanli under our thumb we will be one step closer to the Seal. Either would serve our purposes nicely.”

Jin Guangshan is cunning, that much has never been in question. Jin Guangyao can see it easily, the pieces unfolding and revealing themselves in neat little rows. Lanling Jin will offer the weakened Yunmeng Jiang money and political alliance in one hand and steal their most dangerous asset with the other; it’ll take delicate, dedicated work, and while it will be relatively simple it will still take time.

Jin Guangyao grabs onto the task with both hands and an unclenching of the anxious ball in his chest that is the question of what to do about Nie Mingjue.

“Yes, fuqin,” he says, bows, and stands to retreat, dismissed by a lazy wave.

Destroying Wei Wuxian’s reputation will be child’s play, considering the man’s own self-destructive tendencies that are only growing worse, no matter how much Jiang Wanyin shouts at him. It’s a worthwhile distraction.

Jin Guangyao pushes thoughts of Nie Mingjue as a target, as an obstacle, to the back of his mind with the rest of his thoughts about his sworn brother, and tells himself that the relief is only for having fewer things on his plate rather than anything as dangerous as sentimentality.

|NEXT|

[gucciwins]

For whatever reason I imagine bel sending something super cheesy for Harry on valentines (maybe even a grand gesture) to embarrass and tease him. She’s successful because his friends can stop teasing him ans he keeps blushing and bel teases him too 🤭🤭

happy valentine's day from harry and bel 🤍

+

Harry had planned a morning studio session with Tom and Tyler before he flew to Australia. He knew it was a day he wanted to spend with you but knew you’d be sleeping in for the morning until you got up to have your bath. When he arrived, he was surprised to see them all there waiting for him outside the doors. Even Mitch was early, which never happened. 

“Morning, why are you all outside?” Harry asks cautiously. 

Tom shrugs, “thought we’d wait for you.” 

Harry decides not to bother with them and heads inside. It’s quiet, but there sits Isabel, the receptionist of the studio, and he greets her good morning but continues on to his usual room. The three men follow closely behind, their phones in hand, and his jaw drops when he swings the door open. The studio is filled with what feels like hundreds of pink and red heart-shaped balloons. The floor is scattered with rose petals, and different bouquets of carnations and tulips sit on the couches. Harry picked up the pink carnations that caught his attention, and attached to them was a note. 

Feliz dia del amor!

Mi vida, hope you enjoy this sweet surprise. 

Love, 

Bel

Harry looks around, taking it all in. He can’t believe you would do this. He looks behind him to see Tom and Mitch recording him while Tyler steps around him to grab his phone, that caught his entire reaction. “Did you all know?” He breathes out. 

Mitch slaps Harry on the shoulder, “if I didn’t know she set this up, I would have thought you did it for us to show your love and appreciation.” 

Harry rolls his eyes because Mitch is not wrong. You had told him you had nothing planned, not a present or chocolate hidden in their home, and he knows because he snooped looking for any signs of a surprise. Turns out you outsmarted him and planned everything for the studio.

He decides to call you, hoping you answer, knowing you like to sleep in when you can, but to his surprise, you answer on the second ring. “Baby,” he breathes out, unsure what he wants to say, not that he has you on the line. 

“Take it you liked the surprise,” you laugh as the others in the studio begin to laugh at Harry’s silence. You get a message and see it’s Tyler sending you a photo of Harry staring at the decorated studio in awe. There are pink carnations in his hand. “I was tempted to stand outside with a boombox, but someone vetoed the idea,” you tease. 

Harry sighs, content picturing you outside with a boombox over your head as Franco De Vita’s song “Te Amo” plays. This grand gesture is not something he thought he’d ever receive in his life, but then again, he never thought he’d be lucky enough to love someone as much as he loves you. 

“I want to go home now,” he whines. 

You giggle, “do you want to guess where I am right now?” 

“In bed under our warm covers,” he mutters, picturing you perfectly, knowing he left you warm and bare under the covers after last night's celebrations. 

“Nuh-uh,” you sing song. “I’m in the bath.” Harry feels his pants tighten. “You left me that sweet rose bath bomb, and I had to put it to use. Now I’m all alone at home feeling a little needy and no one to take care of me,” you confess, feigning innocence. 

“Baby,” Harry whines. He’s tempted to run out of the studio and go home to take care of you. 

“Too bad you decided to work,” you remind him. “Those three are under instructions not allowing you to come home until you get some work done.” 

“You’re mean.” You both know he doesn’t mean in.

You laugh, and it’s music to his ears. “Next time, you should dedicate the whole day to me.”

Fuck. He knows he should have canceled. Now he’s going to sit here for hours with a hard-on, thinking about how you’re touching yourself when it should be him treating you with sensual and sweet touches until you’re screaming out his name.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Harry. I love you.” 

Harry sighs, knowing he’ll never get tired of hearing those sweet words. He’ll happily take all your teasing if it means he gets to have you. “I love you, baby.” 

He pockets his phone to see the three men staring at him until they burst laughing. “Damn Harry, maybe if you ask nicely, we’ll let you leave,” Tom teases. 

“I’ll take a kiss to consider it,” Tyler shrugs, puckering his lips. 

“You’re all dicks,” Harry tells them.

It only makes them laugh harder, and Harry knows that although he will be teased endlessly for the next few hours, you’re worth it.

[peaceloveandstarrs]

50, McHarrison.

out of love

George figures he doesn't stand a chance. Which is really unusual, given his quiet confidence. If this were as simple as going out and finding a shag for the night, George knew he wouldn't have any trouble. He's attractive, and he knows it. He has the face of a movie star, all chiseled cheekbones and impeccable bone structure. And he's long and lean. And he has the bonus of being a Beatle. People throw themselves at him just for the chance to say they've shagged a member of the most famous band in the world. No, George doesn't have any trouble finding a partner to get off with.

But this is different. His one-night stands don't have emotion attached to them. He'll give the other person a good night and leave the next day without a second thought. But this time, he's also in love with the person he has in mind. Which is where the complications come in. Because George is also certain that this person is in love with someone else. Hence why he's sure that he doesn't stand a chance.

George is in love with one of his bandmates.

Not Ringo.

Not John.

George is in love with Paul. He hates himself for it sometimes. It's wrong to be in love with another man. He's supposed to love a woman. Men don't love men, not in this sense at least. And there's a second layer of shame. He's almost positive Paul is in love with John. Hell, they might even be having some sort of private affair. There's something there, affair or not. It's obvious. He sees the way those two look at each other in the studio, during performances, at any given opportunity. He sees the way Paul's eyes gleam with a deep joy when John gives him a smile or a compliment on some lyric or riff or something. And he wishes Paul would look at him like that.

Sometimes he does, and George gets a flicker of hope. Maybe he isn't stupid. But then it'll go right back to how it was, Paul treating him like the baby of the group. It's frustrating; George is growing as a musician and songwriter, why doesn't Paul give him the same praise he does John? Paul's back and forth nature is torture. Does he love George? Does he not? Or is he in love with John and trying to hide some sort of feeling? George drives himself mental trying to figure it out.

One day, it gets to be too much. He has to know. Does Paul love him too, or should he start trying to move on? He remembers that girl from the train scenes in A Hard Day's Night. Pattie, was it? Yeah. If this doesn't work out in his favour, maybe he could find her number and try to reconnect with her. Or see if Brian could get it for him. She was sweet, a pretty young bird. Nice figure too. And she was very keen on him during filming. But he pushes Pattie out of his mind and refocuses on the session. It's winding down; everyone's ready to go home.

“Cyn keeps going on about how Jules is missing me,” John says as he packs up his guitar.

“Ye know he does,” Ringo says as he slips into his coat. “Kids need their dads. Granted...” He huffs a laugh, he knows both of their stories. But he also knows he's right.

John just shakes his head as the two of them head out of the studio. Meanwhile, George ignores their conversation. He's alone with Paul. And something tells him to go for it, to take the chance. He takes one last long sip of his drink to boost his courage. He packs up his guitar, suddenly nervous. He goes quiet.

“Ye alright, Hazza?” Paul asks.

George turns when he hears the old nickname, a relic from their Hamburg days. It's been a while since Paul's used it. Maybe it's a sign. He closes the case on his guitar and stands. It's now or never. He walks over to Paul, muscles moving involuntarily, like he's in a daze. And he sort of is, fueled by the two glasses of white wine he's had as well as tiredness. But he has to do this. If he doesn't now, he'll never do it.

“I've... fuck. I don't know how else to say this, but I've been wanting to do this for ages now. I know I'm not John, but...”

Paul furrows his brow and closes his case. “What the hell are you talking about?”

It feels so good. Paul's lips are soft, only slightly chapped. But still so wonderful. George lets it linger, waiting for Paul to push him away, tell him he's mental. But he doesn't. When he feels like it's okay, George kisses him again. And again. And to his own shock, Paul kisses him back. It takes a few tries, but they find that rhythm. Paul tastes of whiskey and cigarettes and something uniquely Paul. And it's delicious. A rare delicacy. Something George can't get enough of. After a few moments, George pulls back. Paul is speechless, staring at him with wide eyes and parted lips.

“This.”

In two strides, George has Paul against the wall. He isn't pressing against him to keep him there, this isn't that kind of kiss. But he's right in front of him, and for whatever reason, be it desire, curiosity, or something else, Paul isn't moving. He sees the the shock in Paul's eyes and almost stops. But there's something else there too. A silent urging in those wide eyes – please keep going. Before he can back out, George presses his lips softly against Paul's and stays there for a moment.

For a moment, George is proud. He's managed to shut up the ever-talkative Paul McCartney. But something needs to be said. So he says the three words that have been on his lips and in his mind for ages.

“I love you.”

[kissitbttr]

TJANK FUCKING GOD YOURE TALKING ABOUT THE R@PE SHIT IN THIS FANDOM. I'm actually in disbelief of how often it's being written. And I get the whole 'dont like, then scroll' and whatever, but when I open up my dash/tags and the first FIVE FUCKING FICS are r@pe fics???? And there's more every day, by the same, but also newer writers??? Wanna know what that is? Normalization. There's one blog on here that's so so so bad for it. And honestly, I get darker content, and I get the interest in rape from a psychological and conditional aspect, but that is when it's being taken seriously. These writers on here? Yeah, they're not fucking taking it seriously. If I see one more '💕🌷🎀' on a r@pe fic, I'm going to fucking lose it.

I can't imagine showing a survivor of SA one of these fics and telling them there is more like it. Like... How embarrassing. But the excuse is that the writers were SA'd and that this is the way they can work through their trauma. Personally, that literally does not add up to me. But! I'm not a psychologist so I can't dictate how someone works through their trauma. But, I can have an opinion on what they put on a public domain. And that's where the whole COD fandom issue lies. There is literally no healthy discourse. If you ask someone why they write about r@pe, they either block you, publicly slander you like you're the idiot for asking about a r@pe fic (???), or tell you to fuck off or something. Like... Why can't we just have a healthy discussion about it?? ESPECIALLY in a fandom with a pretty large female following. We SHOULD be talking about this not being hostile to each other, writers and readers alike.

Idk, sorry for the word dump. I spent four hours talking to a friend about this (who doesn't have Tumblr) and the general consensus was the same. I wish people could just think a little more critically. Just because you have a kink, or think somethings hot, doesn't always mean it's okay. And when you're consistently writing about it as a way to work through it, and posting it online, that just might be a sign that you should talk to a professional, cause there's nothing wrong with getting a second opinion.

took the fucking words outta my mouth babe. you are so RIGHT

tbh i never seen someone actively open about their trauma and say that they write the r*** fics as a way for them to cope. that’s definitely new to me. i mean, i’m no expert too and i can’t exactly say and tell them how to feel but yea that’s a little… bizarre. whether or not they’re using that as an excuse so they can write it i have nothing to say abt that. but if it’s a lie then they can go fuck themselves.

it’s not only this fandom i believe, right? there’s gotta be more and that’s the most fucked up thing about it. like i do not need to know you’re some mentally fucked individual who enjoys writing and reading about r*** content, u keep that shit to yourself. do not bring that bullshit here.

it’s pretty saddening to know that telling ppl to fuck off is their only response. which makes me realized that they are only good for one thing. how could you not have any ounce of decency in you to actually be aware of those things and realize that r*** is not okay and will never be okay?? I don’t care what’s the excuse or whatever reasons u want to bring to the table. if u don’t wanna talk about how r*** takes the joy out of a SA victim and leave a permanent scar in which they have to live with everyday, then there is no point in writing them at all.

and also, you know what saddens me more? the blogs that normally write them comes from women. because, man… you should’ve known better… you should’ve known that no woman on earth could ever live in peace knowing that one exact fear is the reason why we are so terrified of going out alone. why we are so terrified of men. why would you ever go out your way and change these beautiful characters to be some sort of evil spawn ?? weird ass bitches.

don’t be sorry for the word dump!! because i’m glad that some of you came into my inbox and expressed your thoughts about this particular bullshit.

they do need to get some help. and i mean this in the most nicest and disrespectful way possible tbh.

[hello-nichya-here]

How did Cersei get away with still being known as Cersei Lannister despite marrying a Baratheon? Do you think her hatred of Robert was part of the reason why she kept her last name or was it purely a matter of a Lannister being proud of being a Lannister?

Short answer: The women don't really have to take their husband's names in Westeros, but Cersei did do some shit that she shouldn't have done and she only got away with it because the Game Of Thrones is very real and her family was a major player.

Long answer: The women don't really have to take their husband's names in Westeros. For exemple, Catelyn is sometimes called "Catelyn Stark" since she married Ned, had his kids, lives in Winterfell and, more importantly, eventually supported her son in being king of the North.

But her name is still Catelyn Tully, and people still call her that, because house Tully is pretty important and has a good reputation. She'd only stop using that name/allowing people to call her that if her house was shit (like house Frey) and marrying a Stark made her sound more important.

Cersei still calling herself a Lannister, even while married to the freaking king, would not be seen as disrespect.

What should have, and did have, people wondering if something was wrong, was the identity of her children being overwhelmingly Lannister. And I'm not just talking about their looks, I'm talking about shit like Joffrey's banners having a stag and a lion in it, and the Lannisters trying to claim the red comet is a sign of the Gods blessing Joffrey's reign, even though he is a "Baratheon" so the comet should have been gold.

And while Cersei's name is not a rebellion on her part, plenty of things she did clearly were. She did get pregnant with Robert's child once, and had Jaime find a woman to, in her own words, "clean her." She made it clear to Ned that she took advantage of Robert's drinking to only ever have sex with him in ways that couldn't possibly get her pregnant, and in one of her POV's she is bragging to herself about "eating his heirs." And yes, that is both about her pride as a Lannister (who is fucking another Lannister) and about her resentment of Robert for being a terrible, straight up abusive husband.

While there's no way people could know all that, they could still notice that not a single of her children looks like their supposed dad. Ned literally only realized it once Sansa and Arya, two children, pointed out that even in personality Robert's supposed heirs had nothing of him. The fact that whenever Cersei went into labor, Robet wasn't there with her but Jaime was, didn't fucking help.

Having your honor - aka the the list of men of you slept with - questioned as a woman in Westeros can be a permanent stain not just for the woman's reputation, but for her family's as well. When your husband is the king, that can lead to a death sentence.

Yet the Lannisters, not just Cersei, were constantly trying to be seen as just as important as the Baratheons, or even to completely over-shadow them, which just screams that their ambition goes beyond just having one, or many, of their own marrying into royalty - they want to be the royal family, and Cersei and Jaime in particular wanted to replace Robert's lineage with their own.

In all honesty, they have some pretty strong Targaryen envy; They want to be so powerful that nobody can tell them what to do. They want to be so scary, that no one dares to revolt against them because it would be stupid. They want to be the legendary figures that changed Westeros forever. They want those damn dragons. And yes, Cersei and especially Jaime want to get away with incest.

So, how the hell did they all get away with their shit for so long?

1 - Robert was a drunk idiot. He does not give a fuck or even notice much around him, he just cares about drinking plenty of good wine, fucking some young whore, and not having Cersei bothering him. And he also had the bad habit of not listening to people telling him shit he didn't wanna hear (usually things that meant him having to deal with the bad side of being king instead of just enjoying the benifts). Can you imagine him reacting well if someone interrupts his fun to express their concerns about how Cersei made their kids wear red instead of gold in a feast?

2 - The crown was in debt to the Lannisters. Can't question their loyalty, otherwise they take the money away, AND use said money to destroy you - like, say, having all the guards turn against the hand of the king and getting him arrested for speaking out against the queen's bastard being crowned, right after said queen tore the letter the king's last wishes in front of everyone and nobody could do anything about it.

3 - While their behavior was weird, most people didn't realize just what was going on until Stannis spilled the beans on Cersei's kids being all bastards - full Lannister bastards. One would need to be around Cersei and/or Jaime (and sober), as well as look at the Baratheon family tree to fully connect the dots. Once that story was out, it became not just a case of one family trying to usurp the throne, but also of treason against the king AND a scandalous, taboo, illegal affair between the queen and her brother.

4 - While Cersei wanted to make sure Robert would have no heirs, pretty much nobody but Jaime supported her on that, otherwise Tywin would have found a way to get rid of Stannis, Shireen, Renly and any other baratheon as well, so Joffrey "Baratheon" would be the only choice. The head of the house was playing the long-game of having their family spending years, and years, and YEARS getting more and more entwined with royal family and it's business until they were royalty themselves, not the game of "let's secretly replace the royal family with our own by cucking the king" so while one would easily call the Lannister ambitious, very few would immediately call them traitors - and with little evidence and, once again, a king like Robert, that could backfire real fast.

5 - The Lannisters are not the only snakes around. You had people like Varys and Littlefinger, who would keep or expose people's secrets depending on what was convenient for their own goals and decided that the Lannister incest didn't need to come to light (at that point), and plenty of noble families like the Tyrells who could turn a blind eye to everything they knew because they don't care who is the true king, they just wanted a king one of their own could marry.

So yeah, Cersei, in a subtle yet not at all subtle way, showed she had no love, and more importantly, no loyalty towards her husband, the king. And if she wasn't a Lannister, or if house Lannister had played the game in a slightly different way, there is a pretty big chance that she would have paid the price for that a long time ago.

[fuckyeahilike]

Downsides and dangers of the Carnivore diet - part 1

People don't read these things, but I'm going to leave a few warnings to those who are considering following a Carnivore diet. The first one is not so much about the diet as it's about the people in the "community".

Most people who do this arrive at it after decades of chronic diseases that, as it turns out, where mostly caused by metabolic disorders, which is why they're curable with the right diet. You arrive at Carnivore at final fucking last and after you've tried everything because the consensus is always that you can never be too vegetarian. Vegetarianism is for herbivores and we're obligatory carnivores. However the standard advice, for now, is the opposite. So Carnivore is what you do when you're desperate... and then it works. The people in the "community" are perfectly fine good people doing a good job of passing along the knowledge they have acquired, hoping it will be of value to others. That's it, that's all. Nobody knows everything but everyone knows something and they're all worth listening to.

I wouldn't say the community is crawling with Trump supporting Conservative anti-vaxxers, but they're there. I think somewhere along the way fascists decided that vegetarianism is for soy boys whereas eating meat is for men who believe in Jesus; and then there's also the aspect of always going against the establishment... unless the establishment is Trump saying doctors should open people's bodies up and shine sun light inside them to kill the Covid virus, then it must be science.

The last time I had to unfollow a Carnivore influencer for being a fascist he made a short video redirecting his viewers to another site, where we'd be able to watch what turned out to be an anti-Covid vaccine video. That other site is Rumble, a site that claims to be the censorship-free version of Youtube.

Whenever a site claims to be the censorship-free version of a popular site like Twitter or Youtube, understand: it's a far-right site that is free of democracy and human rights, not free of censorship. Coming from them, censorship means democracy and human rights.

The last time I joined such a site it claimed to be the censorship-free version of pre-Elon Musk Twitter, with more diversity of opinions and more interesting content. What could possibly go wrong, right? Who doesn't want more diversity and inclusivity and less suppression of varied content?

It was an almost exclusively Nazi site for Nazis. I have many and varied interests that I put on my check list and they never showed up on my dashboard. There was no anti-Nazi content, either, just for the sake of "inclusivity", it really was just Nazi anti-semitism 100% of the time.

I finally had enough when I logged in one day and was greeted with a series of photos of a sexy young blond wearing a black mini dress, burning a flag with the star of David. Words can not express to what an extent I did not sign up for this shit.

That's what free from - wink wink nudge nudge - "censorship" means in Anglo-Saxon speak.

So I watched the other video on the Rumble site and it was a conspiracy video about how Covid was never an infectious disease but was only ever transmitted through the vaccines themselves. Before the vaccines came along the hospitals that we were told were loaded with patients were actually practically empty and doctors had little to do, except to put Covid on the death certificates of those who died of other causes. Only by watching videos like this will you ever know the "truth".

This was a guy I had been following for the Carnivore tips.

My diagnosis is that he decided to take a leaf off of the Alex Jones school of financial self-help: you encourage and instill fear and paranoia in your audience and then tell them that they can trust no one else, that you and you alone can tell them what is really going on, and that only you can tell them how to interpret the dystopian reality that they live in; and that only by commenting, liking and subscribing and of course sending you all their money will it be possible for you to continue to do all this important journalism with all the hard hitting facts that proper news stations and the government are hiding from you.

Don't join communities, is all I'm saying. Continue to think for yourself and never trust a guru. Male gurus of any kind (spiritual, vegetarians, carnivores...) are often rapists as well, don't be alone with them. Follow many different sites and don't be afraid to listen to contrarian voices. If I had stuck religiously to any one thing I would never have found the path that works for me.

[emphasisonthehomo]

📓

You know how I said I didn't think there was anything to a death industry au? I've been thinking about it a lot, and there is something there. Most of this has been in my drafts for a couple days, while I think thinky thoughts on it. Just gotta take it out of the admin side, to make it more generally interesting tbh. Because what I do is actually pretty boring unless you've got strong administrative opinions.

~

Danny as a licensed embalmer/mortician/whatever (idk how it works in Hawai’i or Jersey) that works at a family owned joint. The pay is pretty good and the hours are flexible, because they don’t care when he works as long as the decedent is ready to go in time for services.

He doesn't generally meet with families. Unless someone has specifically requested to dress their loved one. Then he does help people out with that, because putting clothes on dead (ha) weight can actually be very difficult if you don't know what you're doing.

(Steve has no idea, but Danny is actually the guy that prepped John McGarrett for burial. It was closed casket, short graveside service, so no embalming necessary. But Danny was still the one who made sure that John was in uniform, with all requisite medals and ribbons in the correct place, before he went to the cemetery.)

Danny knows Max because every once and a while he picks up a deceased after the medical examiner is finished w/ the autopsy or whatever. They have a lot of Professional Respect for each other, from being on different sides of the Works With Dead Bodies Industry.

(“Dr. Bergman, why is it whenever I pickup a case from you, it’s always the worst? Look at this guy. The family wants open casket, and I’m gonna have to pull a miracle out of my ass.”

The body in question is at the marbling stage of decomp, and smells like it. The cosmetizing Danny’s gonna have to do to make the guy normal colored is astronomical. That’s not even getting into the state of the head. The spouse is gonna have to provide a hat for sure. He hopes the director can talk her into closing the casket for services.

“He was shot in the temple Mr. Williams. Besides, you’ll be able to manage that.”

“...Yeah. Probably,” Because Danny is Very Good at what he does, and the guy isn’t actually the absolute worst he’s ever seen. There's not even any insect activity, which is shocking.)

Anyways, one day Danny comes into work and there’s a body in his fridge that was not there yesterday when he left. He knows who he’s supposed to have in his care, and this person? Not one of them. When he gets a closer look, there’s a huge gaping wound in the chest and oh shit. Okay. Yeah. Fuck, he’s gotta call 911.

Anyways, Five-0 gets called in, because a dead body appeared over night in a locked room with no sign of break in.

(“Mr. Williams, it’s interesting to see you at your place of work, instead of my own.”

“Yeah. I gotta be honest, I don’t think I like it Dr. Bergman.”)

Danny’s in scrubs and PPE, and he smells like chemicals and death, and it’s tragic because that Commander is uh. Nice to look at. Danny’s seen him a few times in passing, when he’s been by the medical examiners to do a removal. If he didn't look like a horror movie, Danny would be tempted to flirt. Don't get him wrong, he still does, but he's not as blatant about it as he would be if they bumped into each other at a bar or something.

Anyways, what happens from there is just, the weirdest slowest courtship imaginable. Because now it seems almost every time Danny comes by to pick someone up, Commander McGarrett is there. And they exchange hellos and small talk. And it’s a coincidence, it’s gotta be.

Steve meanwhile has been flirting with the idea of uh. Letting those Gay Thoughts catch up with him, since he's gone to the reserves. Mr. Williams is attractive, with a fire cracker personality and Steve's just. Curious. You know. Wants to get to know him. But Steve's also never navigated the awkward terrain of trying to find out if a man is into other men. So Steve mostly just 'happens' to be at the medical examiners during the pickup window for funeral homes to come by.

Also Danny's trans. Just assume he's trans unless stated otherwise, in anything I write. I've decided that's a hill I'm gonna die on.

[thessalian]

Faerun!Alisaie vs Sword-Dancing With Gith

Lae'zel: All right. We near the creche. We will go straight there; no dallying!

Alisaie: I'd promise you that, but I know what our lives are like. I'll get us there, but holy fuck, chill.

Lae'zel: Ugh. Very well. But I am not pleased with this.

Lady Esther: Hello? Oh. You travel with one of those savages that set up one of those ... creche ... things at the monastery. They got very upset when I tried to buy one of their eggs and--

Alisaie; Lae'zel: Excuse you?!?

Lady Esther: We just wanted to do a nature-vs-nurture experiment! We're sure that one of those creatures could actually be sociable if they were raised properly!

Alisaie; Lae'zel: ...............

Shadowheart: Should we tell this woman what that look means, from those two?

Gale: Hell no. She's earned this.

Lady Esther: So you're travelling with one of them and I'm sure you wouldn't mind stealing one of their eggs for--

Alisaie: Y'know ... I was going to just stab the everliving shit out of you for suggesting that a) kidnapping is okay and b) I might be willing to do it for your Society of Brilliance experiment bullshit. But then I thought to myself ... why should I get the pleasure of that when it's Lae'zel's people you're wronging? Lae'zel? All yours.

Lae'zel: Ha! Finally! *stabs the everliving shit out of Lady Esther*

Gale: Well, at least they're bonding.

Alisaie: Hey, Gale! I think this armour would do good things for you!

Gale: It's ... got a cropped top.

Alisaie: You've got the figure for it, and it's enchanted to help with your unwillingness to jump any gap ever.

Gale: You know ... in most of these stories, it's the women who are in the skimpy clothing and men are in the armour. Which ... is ... something I should not have said when I'm travelling with a party full of women but...

Alisaie: Look, we'd put you in armour too but your spells stop being castable when you're in it so let's not. And someone needs to be able to take a hit if you can't.

Gale: ...Fine, but you can't tell me you're not enjoying this.

Alisaie: Hey, I may not be planning to travel the landscape but that doesn't mean I can't admire the view from time to time. But honestly, maybe your ex'll enjoy the view enough to not let you kerblooey all over the literal landscape!

Gale: ...I'm not sure what kind of compliment that is, but I suppose I'll take it?

After some noodling around through the environs around the monastery, and using an old ferry, which was really fun

Alisaie: Hey, Lae'zel?

Lae'zel: Speak.

Alisaie: Now, it's obvious that your people don't like this Absolute or any of its cult.

Lae'zel: Obviously not!

Alisaie: But ... this artefact doesn't want to go with them either.

Lae'zel: We can cross that bridge when we come to it.

Alisaie: Maybe I should ask some questions of that gnome they killed--

Lae'zel: Or we could simply move on. Why we feel the need to search this building--

Gremishka: *screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee*

Alisaie: How about killing things? Does 'killing things' work?

Lae'zel: ...Frustratingly, yes.

A bunch of dead magic-allergic rats later...

Lae'zel: And still we wander!

Alisaie: Look, it's not like your creche people left a sign! I'm trying to find a way in, but--

Kobolds: *are very very drunk*

Kobolds: *are going to try to kill the party anyway*

Gale: Drunk and flammable! It's a party!

Alisaie: Gale wait don't--

Gale: IGNIS!

Kobold: *explodes in a ball of fire that hurts the entire party*

Gale: ...I thought I was being facetious about the flammable...

Alisaie: Oh, fuck a bunch of this.

Gale: Wha--?

Alisaie: *Mobile Flourishes one kobold at range, which dies*

Gale: All right, but--

Alisaie: *Mobile Flourishes second kobold at range; this one lives*

Gale: Huh; you--

Alisaie: *teleports to prone kobold, stabs him to death, then Slashing Flourishes two more, taking them out*

Gale, Shadowheart, Lae'zel: ..............................

Shadowheart: What magical item gave her that much combat mobility, and where can I get one?

Lae'zel: ......I want her...

Shadowheart: Too bad; so sad. Now burn off some of that energy by killing something.

Stabnation: *ensues once again*