#why do i always have something to rant about

[hipstersfoundmyrobot]

Over the past ten years, Danny Fenton’s life has been a whirlwind, and that’s an understatement. Nonetheless, despite being the Ghost King and a consultant for the JLD as Phantom, Danny’s life is ordinary. Or as ordinary as a halfa king could manage.

Danny remembers being 17 and feeling so helpless and overwhelmed, especially when Jazz moved away for college. He didn’t expect that to be the end of his struggles. His sister coming back for Christmas break with the Justice League in tow was not on his bingo card, nor were his parents and Vlad being tried for supervillainy or the Anti-Ecto Acts and the GIW being a hoax. However, according to Tucker, the most surprising part of their senior year was their trio graduating with near-perfect attendance and good grades.

Nowadays, life is good for Danny. While his responsibilities as the High King of the Infinite Realms and his attachment to his haunt keep him from leaving Amity Park, he has found balance. After his identity as Phantom was revealed to the town, the community rallied in support of the half-dead teenager who saw his parents go to jail. Following Jazz’s insistence, he has enrolled in an online Astronomy and Engineering degree, which he finds much easier than high school. He doesn’t even have to worry about money, being the new owner of FentonWorks and DalvCo.

All in all, life is, finally, cutting the halfa some slack, which is why he now has more free time to fill, ergo his current situation. Sam, Tucker and Jazz are debating on his computer screen about what hobby he should try.

“Danny, dude, I’m telling you, you should take programming classes. We could make our own video game and-“Tucker’s excited rant cuts off as Jazz mutes the both of them.

“After the ecto-contamination of everyone in Amity, you’ll probably find a lot of people willing to join an environmentalist group. You know my activism rubbed off on you.” Sam’s voice is almost covered by the deep sigh that escapes Tucker and Danny can’t help but smile at his best friends’ antics.

“You guys, we’re trying to figure out something Danny would like. Baby brother, what is something you’d like to do ?” Danny can’t help but miss his sister when he sees her exasperated smile at his friends’ insistence that he tries something they like.

Leaning against his desk, his face in his hand, he shrugs, a bit embarrassed. “Actually, I did have an idea but I’m not sure.” On his screen, his sister’s face is open and supportive, meanwhile, Sam and Tucker don’t seem to have noticed they were inaudible. “I, maybe, wanted to try streaming ? You guys obviously don’t have as much time to play video games with me and it’s really not the same on my own… I like the idea of finding a community of people who enjoy listening to my weird space and ghost rants without having to leave Amity. Not that the Parkers aren’t my friends but—” He pushes his hair out of his face with a sigh, looking up at the ceiling. “I guess I want to meet new people ? But I don’t actually want to meet them.”

“That sounds great, Danny.” Jazz, supportive as always, finally unmutes the two.

“Yeah dude, I’m down to help you set it all up. You’re gonna need equipment-“

“And you’re gonna need to ectoproof it too. Are you going to hide your identity ? Acting like ghosts and your powers are the norm would be so funny.”

“Right, you could ask a ghost artist to make your channel art. You clearly already have a niche thing going, you know ?” His Fraid’s excitement makes Danny feel more confident in his idea.

“What do you guys think of the name CosmicSpecter ?”

Jason has been back in Gotham for about two years. His relationship with his family is still strained but it is improving. He has a good thing going with Red Hood and his gang. However, he is still plagued by the Pit Madness, despite his best efforts he still doesn’t feel like himself. Meanwhile, everyone around him has accepted, however reluctantly, that this is who he is now, but Jason refuses to. He knows this isn’t him, but he is resigned that the foreign rage trying to control him will torment him until his (next) dying breath.

Maybe it’s fate, maybe it’s boredom, maybe it’s the scary TubeYou algorithm that has him clicking on the livestream thumbnail while tittering close to the Pit Rage. The guy has 463 subscribers and 6 current viewers and he’s halfway through a burrito when Jason joins. The light is dim, and his eyes seem to be reflecting the light. A meta, maybe ?

“Hiya ‘botched-resurrection’, nice to see a fellow undead here.” He takes a swig of a too green liquid from a soda bottle and flashes the camera with a wide smile. “We’ll go back to playing once I’m done eating. This new joint opened a few years ago, since our town isn’t under a fake government lockdown anymore, and honestly, I’m pleasantly surprised. My sister is probably relieved I’m eating something other than a burger.” The guy’s eyes widen slightly when a $20 donation comes through from one ‘jazz_hands’. “Really Jazz ? ‘Twenty whole American dollars in hopes you’ll eat healthier food one day’. There are real vegetables in here you know ? You’re being too harsh. Also stop sending me money as an excuse to embarrass me on stream.”

This is the start of the prologue I'm posting on ao3 tomorrow probably, I'll link once it's up

Streamer Danny AU, but he’s a really minor streamer. Like, he does it mainly just for his own fun and only has a few intermittent viewers.

But somehow Jason finds his channel anyway, and something about his voice is captivating. The pit rage quiets down in his presence. So he starts tuning in to basically every stream, or just putting on the VODs in the background to fall asleep to.

And on the other side, Danny takes note of this new subscriber who’s quite possibly his first truly dedicated viewer. So he starts interacting with him on stream sometimes - greeting him when he shows up in the chat, specifically asking/answering questions, etc

Needless to say, this did not help Jason’s growing semi-parasocial crush in the slightest…

[crunchystarz]

Leona pinning headcanons with a reader who follows him round pretty please!1!1>-<

Leona with a reader who follows him around

Pairing Leona Kingscholar x GN!reader

Word count: 758

Cw- Leona is a sad sad man/endearing, fluff, reader is not specified to be yuu, not proofread.

A/n: I got a lil carried away while writing so this is more of a ramble than headcanons 🦭 also for some reason my asks got wiped so for everyone who had an req earlier I'm sorry 😞!! They are still open !

Leona didn't know how to feel about you at first, truly you were a mystery to him. He couldn't figure out what your motives were. Seriously no one else came up to them.  They'd usually be too scared to even come up to him. And when they do they always want something from him.

It's always been that way so Leona honestly didn't care anymore he'd either just walk away or give them a glare that sent them running with their tails tucked between their legs.

But you? Sevens he didn't even know what to do with you. He couldn't figure out a single thing you could have possibly wanted from him. You're always following him around.

 At first he was annoyed. Everywhere he went your bubbly presence followed. You always asked him questions and he couldn't stand it. Seriously, he didn't know what to do with you.

He'd tell Ruggie to stay on the lookout for you but it never worked. He honestly believed he let it happen on purpose. At one point he tried to pay you to leave him alone.

You shocked him by shaking your head and telling him you just like being around him. No, you had to want something from him? He just grumbled and turned over and proceeded to try and go back to sleep.

He tried to ignore the way his heart beat increased slightly. He wasn't used to being…wanted.

Leona used to roll his eyes whenever you'd talk about him to others like you were friends. Now he just looks away as his tail flickered slightly in embarrassment. Ruggie would tease him about how you practically followed him around like some lost puppy, and tease him on how he stopped trying to push you away. 

“Don't tell me you've gone soft!”

He hasn't…he just got used to your presence. It's more odd if you stopped coming around. Totally not because he's become attached to you. Not because he's scared if he even pretends to push you away you'll actually leave.

Leona can't help but linger around you as well, the few times you're not following him around he's following you around. He doesn't make it obvious…unless there's someone else getting too much of your attention.

He'll admit it he does get jealous. He knows what being jealous feels like, but he's always been jealous of what people have and yeah sure he's been jealous of lack of attention as a child but this. This is different.

Leona would loom over you intimidating whoever was taking your attention from him, or head straight up you just to drag you away from them. 

He is in pure denial that he likes you…he's just fascinated by you and your nature. He likes whenever you chirpily talk to him while trying hard to keep up with his stride.

He won't admit to anyone that he feels disappointed whenever he wakes up from a nap and you haven't somehow found him. 

Leona isn't in love be just…wants to kiss that still smile off your face whenever you're ranting. He's not in love, he just wants all your attention. He's not in love, he just wants to drag you down with him while he sleeps. He is not in love, he just wants to call you his. Leona.is.not.in love.

(At least that's what he tells himself)

Leona eventually accepts the reality of his feelings when you two were sitting down at lunch and you told him about how someone had asked you out. He nearly choked on his food. He decided right then and  there that he'd tell you how he feels.

 However he didn't know why but telling you flat out was…hard? He'd just grumbled and continued eating. Ruggie chuckled to himself watching the way Leona's tail flickered in  aggravation.

From then he tries so hard to drop hints that he doesn't just tolerate you. You're not naive but sevens it was like you couldn't drop a single hint he gave you.

Leona  was so pathetic he just wanted you. Why couldn't you see that? Weren't the gifts not a sign? The fact that he once offered you to nap with him. Yeah he doesn't know what he's doing and even thinks about going to Ruggie but immediately back tracks.

The next time he sees you he just straight up grabs you by the shoulders.

“Herbivore, I like you.”

“I mean I sure hope you do, we're friends right?”

...

You're killing him. He hangs his head in defeat…maybe he should go to Ruggie.

Please help him.

MASTERLIST

[loserlvrss]

｡ ｡ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏 ( 이.𝐌𝐇 )─────엔시티

( 二月 ). ──your best friend fell asleep on you, and suddenly he wasn't your friend anymore 이민형 &fem!rea. ⟡ drabble, fluff warn. kiss wc : 807HUN ++( 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈 )

노트 mark, as promised <3

You don’t know how it happened, however you weren’t complaining. No, nothing of the sort even crossed your mind. 

All that was on your mind was how comfortable you felt despite the pins and needles in your hip. How warm you felt with arms wrapped around your waist. You could hear soft breaths taken against the silent air—your show lost on the ‘continue watching’ screen some time ago. 

You’d blinked yourself awake a couple of minutes ago, not even realizing that you’d actually fallen asleep. When you woke up, you didn’t even know what day it was anymore either, pushed into the worst brain fog. However, the dream you were having was all sunshine and rainbows, you almost regretted coming back to reality. Well, that was until you saw that your best friend, Mark, had also fallen victim to just resting his eyes. 

But then, reality hit, making your stomach drop. 

Your best friend had fallen asleep too, somehow ending up with his head pressed into your side and arms paralyzing. 

You bit your lip, feeling a little bad about reveling in such an intimate thing for friends to be doing. Of course you’d shared hugs and even held hands, Hell, it seemed he couldn’t be more than a couple inches from you sometimes, but that was always innocent. That was always because you were feeling uncomfortable, or anxious or something of the sort. 

There was never anything between the lines to read. 

Butterflies made you nauseous. You liked the feeling he instilled, but you hated that you shouldn’t actually be feeling it at all. 

Should you wake him up? You could pretend you hadn’t been staring at him for the past however long then. But, on the other hand, you could make it a thing. Afterall, It was an opportunity to make the feeling yours to hold—make him yours to hold. 

But No. No, you couldn’t. 

You were friends, nothing more and nothing less. There were never any shades of gray. No stolen glances or prolonged eye contact. There was no tension, no lingering touches or sense of fleeting time. There was nothing, and you didn’t know anymore if you could take it. 

People hadn’t even mistaken you for a couple before, and it hurt your pride a bit. 

Why couldn’t you swallow it down and ask? Too scared to lose what you already had? Circles and circles you’d been running, but not getting very far. All the destinations led back to one thing—one very, very special man. 

The man you loved. 

You groaned at the thought, head hitting the arm of the couch. And suddenly Mark was awake, very aware of the position you two were in. It was your movement of disappointment (in yourself) that stirred him, your breathing and heartbeat queuing him in. The soft plush that only a body had, making him get up faster than you thought humanly possible. 

“Oh my God,” He put his hands up like he was surrendering, “I’m sorry, I must’ve fallen asleep after you. I didn’t mean to,” 

You lifted your head through all the commotion, being met with the sight that made your heart pick up speed. He looked so adorable half-awake; hair messy, and features swollen. 

“I’m sorry.” He apologized again, “It just happened, like on an airplane when your head just—you know, drifts. You looked so peaceful, I guess I got jealous.” He tried to joke, an awkward laugh leaving his lips after the rant subsided. 

You’d sat up some time during when he was talking at you, “It’s fine,” You sighed, now regretting ruining the moment more than turning your good dream off like the show you hadn’t been comprehending. 

He was right, it was peaceful. 

Mark brought peace to your life, a sense of clarity during the worst storm you’d ever lived through. He was the rain that brought flowers, the rainbow that brought color. 

He was everything right in a left world. 

“Don’t apologize to me.” 

And just as quickly as he’d lifted from you, he was back in your space, this time soft lips against yours. Your eyes were wide when he pulled back, then his were too. 

His mouth was slightly parted, broken sounds leaving it without real substance. You assumed they’d be more apologies, so before he had the chance to gather his thoughts you leaned back in, closing the distance you thought you’d put between you two. 

Your hands found the side of his head, palms resting on his cheeks, pulling him as close as you could get. And, he didn’t protest. 

You couldn’t decide if maybe you hadn’t actually woken up, because if you were having a good dream before, then this was the best one. 

Your stomach was doing Olympic-level flips, gold medal acrobatics. But, at least, you could say the feeling was yours. 

© loserlvrss 2024 / 25. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱.

networks : @kstrucknet @starlit-network @blossomnet @k-films

taglist : @slytherinshua @saxytalks @mystarsohee @seomisaho @chwesun @oc3anfloor @markyoursupplier127 @atzlordz @bbangbies @cyjzzl @minkilicious @am00ures @seokminfilm | fill out form to be added. 

back to masterlist!

[lila-went-missing]

Hiii, saw you wanted some requests for Sevika and I've had this idea bubbling up for a while. Imagine Vika with a reader that's normally experienced, yk has fucked one or two people before and it's not a sex god, and they're growing insecure about sevika never starting intimacy even after months of dating, so they think it's because they're not as good as the girl's she's been with before. Idk just thought that'd be good

I'm kind of obsessed with this, ngl. This isn't the first smut that I've written but it is the first smut that I've posted on here so feedback is always appreciated. Y'all will never guess... it's not proofread. Again. Enjoy my lovelies! X

Warnings: Smut (obviously), mild angst but nothing too horrible, mentions of body image issues but readers body type isn't specified or described.

Fem reader, of course, with female genitalia.

At first, you didn't think anything of it. She probably just wanted to take things slow with you. You weren't as experienced as her so she probably wanted to take her time.

That made sense for a while.

But now, after eight months together, you haven't had sex once. More importantly, she hasn't initiated it.

Realistically, you know that it's fine. There's plenty of reasons as to why nothing has happened so far. But that voice in the back of your head is doing a fantastic job of convincing you otherwise.

Sevika was kind of a sex symbol before you two got together.

She'd been with countless women, she was a regular at Babbettes. Her name was uttered on the streets like a sacred prayer.

You, on the other hand, have only been with two people: your ex, and a drunken one night stand that was less than satisfactory. So you did have sexual experience, but not nearly as much as her.

Honestly, it's starting to worry you.

Did she not like you? Was she not physically attracted to you? Was there something wrong with your body? Were you not showing enough skin?

Thoughts plagued your mind night and day. You were stuck in constant turmoil. It was impossible to stop your own brain once it got going.

It was taking everything in you to focus on the stove and not burn dinner.

You flinch at the sound of the door closing. Heavy footsteps sound through the house, approaching the kitchen.

Sevikas thick arms wrap around your midsection, her face making home in the side of your neck. For a long time, she doesn't say anything. The only sounds come from the meat sizzling in your pan. Moments like this make it easier to not think about the painful lack of aw sex life between you two.

Her lips purse, pressing small kisses against your skin. She hums against your neck.

"What are you cooking doll?" Her voice is muffled against your flesh but you understand her all the same.

"Spaghetti." You feel her smile.

"My favorite.." She mumbles. You hum a small "Mhm" before focusing back on the seasoned beef and water you're waiting for to boil. Her arms tighten ever so slightly, one hand slipping under your shirt. Her thumb caresses your bare skin.

It should be sweet but it really just drives the nail into the coffin for you.

Your voice comes out before you can stop it.

"Why won't you have sex with me?" You regret it the moment it leaves your mouth.

"I- woah, what? Doll what do you mean?" She honestly sounds baffled.

"Forget I said anything, please. It doesn't matter."

Her hands gently grab your shoulders, turning you around.

"No way. What are you talking about?"

You shake your head. "It's stupid.."

"It's not stupid if it's bothering you." She reassures you.

"It's just, we've been together for eight months, and we practically live together. But we haven't done anything. I know you don't have an issue having sex because half the undercity talks about how good you are and I just don't understand. Is there something wrong with me? Am I not appealing to yo-" Your rant is cut off by her lips. Her hands are holding you like glass, one on your cheek, one curled around your hip.

"There is nothing wrong with you." Her voice comes out as a soft whisper. "I'm sorry I made you feel like there was. I just knew that you don't have as much experience as I do. I didn't want you to feel rushed, or forced."

"Rushed? No, you could never.. I thought you just didn't want me that way." She immediately shakes her head. She kisses you again, more urgently this time.

Her hands grab anywhere they can, pulling you in. They're on your hips, waist, groping your ass.

"I do want you." Then they're picking you up and lifting you on the counter. "Let me show you how much I want you?" All you can do is nod as her lips trail down your neck. Her touch dances over your body, removing your top.

Her mouth follows soon after, sucking dark bruises into the skin on your neck and chest. She takes a nipple in her mouth and swirls her tongue around it. A low whimper leaves your mouth at the new, but not unpleasant, sensation.

Her right hand copies her tongue's motions on the other, pinching and pulling. Your body trembles against the counter with need.

She moves away from your breasts, kissing and licking down your stomach to your navel. Her hands unbutton your pants. She looks up at you as she lowers herself to her knees, silently asking for permission. You nod your head. You don't trust your voice. Your pants are off in seconds and thrown somewhere in the kitchen that you'll worry about later.

Her hand splays across your stomach and gently pushes you to lay against the tile. It's cold against your bare and burning skin, your back arching off of it but she keeps your hips pinned down.

You gasp as her teeth nip at the skin of your thigh. A breathy laugh leaves her.

"Shut up.." You mutter.

"Didn't say anything."

Your eyes roll in fake annoyance but you don't get the chance to reply as the cold air hits your bare cunt. Her thumbs pull your lips apart, admiring the sight before her.

"Fuck doll, you're so wet. All of this for me?" Her voice is husky between your legs and it stirs something delicious in your belly.

"Yes, all for you Sev.." She chuckles. Her teeth take the hem of your panties and drag them down your legs. She kisses your hips and navel, sucking hickies and marking you as hers.

"Please, Vika. Need you.." You whine. You can't bring yourself to care about how desperate you sound. You're sure that you look even more so from her position.

It seems, though, that your prayers have been answered because as soon as the words leave your mouth hers is back on you. This time it's between your legs.

She licks a long stripe up your pussy before stopping to suck your clit into her mouth. A loud moan reverberates from your chest as you lean your head back into the counter. Her tongue kitten licks at the bud before suckling on it like shes trying to nurse herself.

You've had people eat you out before but never this well. You don't think it could get better than this.

She moves down, opting to fuck you with her tongue instead. You definitely understand the appeal now. You've given yourself plenty of orgasms but this is the fastest one has risen before.

She feels it in the way you clench around her tongue and moves back to your clit. Her fingers fill up the now empty space, fucking into you in a gently but rough way only she could manage.

She's eating you like a woman starved and with the lack of sex the two of you have had she may as well be. If you didn't know better you might think this is her last meal.

Gasps and whimpers leave your mouth in a desperate way you can't stop.

"Fuck Sev.. ngh~ m'gonna cum, please.."

She smirks against you once more, speeding up her ministrations.

"Come on my tongue baby, make a mess on me." Her voice is muffled against you cunt, vibrations travel through your clit with her words.

You last maybe thirty seconds longer, hand tangled in her hair, before releasing over her tongue.

She laps you up, milking you for all that you're worth. She's never tasted anything more delicious. Her mouth doesn't let up until your whimpering from the overstimulation and pushing her head away.

She looks you in the eye as she sucks her fingers clean before kissing back up your body. Her lips lock onto yours and you can still taste yourself on her tongue. It makes your head spin in a way you've never felt before.

When you come back to earth, her hand is running through your hair.

"I'm sorry I made you believe that I didn't want to do that." She mumbles. "But now I may need it to be a daily thing." You giggle at her words.

"It's okay. I wouldn't mind honestly." She helps you sit up, a large hand cupping your cheek. "You didn't get to cum.." You whisper as you lean in closer.

"Don't worry about me, I'll get my fill later." The look on her face tells you that this isn't over. "I'm going to change out of these clothes. You just worry about dinner okay?" She slips your panties back on along with your shirt.

You nod, sliding off the counter. You wince at the mess you made but she's already wiping it up. Her lips meet your temple as she mutters a low, "I love you."

"I love you more." She shakes her head, chuckling before walking back to her room. You feel much better now, and you really can't wait for what she meant by "later".

[twopoppies]

Hi Gina, hope you're doing well!!

I've sent you similar asks a couple of times before over the years, but everytime I see it I just can't help but express my frustration. As someone who works in marketing and hears the words "do something that'll go viral" almost everyday from different brands, I get so disappointed in Louis's PR.

Everytime he comes back in the news a little again I get my hopes up thinking that it might actually lead to something but then it just suddenly stops. I feel like his team doesn't actually have a marketing plan and they just wake up one day wanting to make Louis's name trend and then forget about it or get bored after a week.

Even now - going to Zayn's show (not saying it was completely for PR, but definitely planned), then the walls promo, collaborating with youtube and spotify instagram pages, and now going to the superbowl which will be filled with celebrities (you cannot make me believe ever that he's actually there for the American football) - it's all to get him in the news. But why? My guess it for absolutely nothing!!

As always he'll be active for a bit and disappear again, having done all this for nothing, because I don't see an album or even a single coming anytime soon, so this bit of PR will also be forgotten like everything else!!

It took me a couple years, but I've given up all hope in his team at this point!! I really really hope he meets some better people at some point who can position him better, because he definitely deserves and has the potential for it!!

Sorry for the rant. Have a great day!!!!

Hi sweetheart. I was actually just talking about this with @apparentlybychance yesterday. Ah was saying she was checking his social mentions (or whatever the hell it’s called) and he had a huge spike when he went to Zayn’s show, and then nothing. And he’s barely been mentioned in connection to the Super Bowl.

I have no idea what his team is doing. The meet up with fans seemed only for fandom. The Super Bowl attendance isn’t making a blip outside of fandom. It’s just weird.

[the-unidentified-author]

The Lord, The Lady and The Long Winter | Cregan Stark | House of the Dragon

Chapter 2/5?: The Wolf of the North

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 - Comming soon

Cregan Stark x House Baratheon Reader

One or more parts in this story will include the following:

Warnings/ Tags: SMUT[NSFW}, smut, minors DNI, new relationship, arguments, harsh words,longing, p in v, creampie, cum play, a little rough, Cunnilingus, fingering, consensual!, hes a big man, orgasm denial, one orgasm after another 🚨SLOW BURN🚨

Summary: You’re betrothed to Cregan Stark. The pair of you navigate this relationship of convenience and perhaps even find love.

Word Count: 3,317

*Not my Gif

A/N RANT: I find writing easy. I just splat ideas down on the page. It’s the editing that really gets me. I spend so much time deleting and rewriting, googling synonyms because somehow I’ve managed to use the same word 4,000 times in the last twenty sentences. Agonising over the wording and then Word for some reason trying to make me spell things in american. Then the grammar actually sends me over the edge, Word telling me that there should be a comma, so I add a comma and then no that’s wrong there shouldn’t be a comma there. It actually makes me go feral. Anyway, if anyone wonders why it takes me so long to post more parts, these are some of the reasons.

Chapter 1

It had taken a little over a month for your father and your entourage to reach the castle of Winterfell. As you journeyed, the number of layers and furs you wore in the carriage increased, each piece a necessary defence against the northern chill. It was the last day of the trip, and you were thankful it had finally come to an end, eager to sleep in the same bed for more than one night in a row. You stepped up into the carriage and turned to your father, who was already seated, his expression one of calm reassurance. "Almost there," he said, his voice steady as he attempted a smile.

You averted your gaze, sitting down and looking out at the landscape that unfolded outside. A heavy blanket of snow cloaked the ground, transforming the world into a vast, seamless expanse of white. The trees stood tall and skeletal, their branches laden with frost that sparkled like diamonds in the weak and low winter sun. Occasionally, the wind howled through the barren branches, sending a shiver down your spine and creating an eerie symphony that filled the otherwise still air.

The world outside seemed lifeless, devoid of colour and warmth—how you longed for the vibrant greens and the golden hues of the south, of home. You hadn’t seen an animal for more than a week, and the silence felt oppressive, magnifying the sense of isolation that you felt. Your mind wandered to what your sisters would be doing right now, likely studying or playing in the garden with your mother watching sewing something beautiful as she always was. A lump formed in your throat as you thought about how long it would be until you saw them again. This new landscape was as much a part of your new life as your upcoming marriage; it revealed in its stark beauty but also served as a constant reminder of the challenges that lay ahead. With the shutter closed, you felt a growing knot of anxiety within you, the weight of the impending changes heavy as the snow that blanketed the ground.

At some point, you had fallen asleep, though you couldn't recall when. The anticipation of the day had kept you awake through most of the night, and the uncomfortable seat of the carriage left your body aching. But then, the resounding blast of trumpets heralding your arrival jolted you from your sleep.

“Are we here?" you asked, glancing at your father, whose expression was distant, as if lost in thought.

"Yes," he replied, turning his gaze to meet yours.

"How long do we have before meeting the Starks?" you asked, smoothing your clothes and hoping the nap hadn’t left your hair in disarray.

"Lord Stark will greet us as soon as we step out of the carriage," your father replied, straightening in his seat.

"What? Aren’t we meeting in the hall after we've freshened up?" you exclaimed, taken aback by the immediacy, realising just how soon you'd face the man who’d share your future.

"Ah, but they're Northerners," your father said with a dismissive wave, "They'd find you lovely even in rags." The carriage lurched forward, jolting you both, as your heart raced.

You thought you would have just a little more time, a chance to gather your thoughts and brace yourself for the momentous introduction. Panic rose inside you as it became clear you had mere minutes before meeting the man who would be your husband.

Your heart raced with a flurry of questions and doubts. Would he be as the tales described—harsh and unyielding as the Northern winters—or might there be warmth beneath the layers of fur and Stoic silence? The uncertainties swirled, each more daunting than the last, wrapping around your thoughts like a relentless blizzard.

You fidgeted with the edge of your cloak, trying to calm the rising tide of unease. What if your mannerisms seemed too foreign, your presence too delicate for the rugged North? At this moment, you realised your entire future might rely on one singular, daunting introduction.

You focused on your breathing, counting each inhale and exhale slowly to five, as your mother had taught you to do in moments of unease. Her voice echoed in your mind, recounting stories of Lord Cregan Stark and how he had become the embodiment of his house’s strength. At just seventeen, he had fought for power against his uncle, rallying the North to his cause and earning the legendary title of the Wolf of the North.

Now, at twenty-five, he was widely renowned as the most powerful man in the region, with whispers even calling him the King in the North. His influence stretched far, untethered by the intricacies of southern politics. In the refuge of your measured breathing, you hoped to draw some comfort from the formidable reputation of the man who would soon become your husband. Could a man so brilliant at war be kind?

The carriage came to a rest, jolting you back to the present, you looked at your father, who attempted to give you a reassuring nod as the door of the carriage swung open. He moved through it first, giving you a precious few moments to prepare yourself before he turned and extended his hand inside the carriage to help you out and down.

The cold hit you first, making you draw a sharp breath, the icy air burning your lungs. For a brief moment, you looked around and watched as snowflakes danced in the chilled air, touching gently on Winterfell's ancient stone façade. You stepped out, the snow crunching beneath your feet, you were thankful for your father's firm grasp on your hand, worried for a moment that without it, you would slip.

The northern air was sharp and invigorating, a biting chill that seemed to permeate the very fabric of everything it touched. It was the kind of cold that, if endured for too long, would nestle deep into your bones, leaving a lingering reminder of the North’s untamed power. Pulling your thick cloak more tightly around yourself, you sought its warmth and comfort, a shield against the relentless chill.

Your father stepped forward with the practiced grace of his station, turning to address the Northerners who had assembled to witness your arrival.

"Greetings House Stark, I am Lord Borros Baratheon, of the House Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End. I have come to present to you, my daughter." His voice was, steady and confident. It carried over the soft whisper of the wind, acknowledging the strength of the Northern families and the significance of the union that would soon bind Baratheon and Stark.

He turned to you and gestured for you to step forwards, and you did, curtseying to the group. Your eyes swept over the crowd of Northerners—a sea of rugged faces hardened by the winter landscape. And there he stood, amidst them, undeniably Cregan Stark. His towering form was enveloped in commanding furs, every inch the lord who embodied the unforgiving north. He looked younger than you thought he would, hearing stories of how the north aged you beyond your years made you worried about what you would be confronted with up getting here.

Cregan stepped forward with an elegant grace, offering a formal bow. Yet, the warmth in his eyes spoke an unspoken promise of understanding and curiosity.

"Welcome to Winterfell," his voice resonated, deep and steady, his accent thick.

Your father and Cregan began discussing the plans for the coming days, their voices a steady hum amidst the towering stone walls of Winterfell. You followed closely behind them, the chill of the Northern air slowly giving way to the warmth of the hall, its fires crackling and casting flickering shadows that danced across the ancient stone.

Eventually, you found your place on a chair, one of many surrounding a small table strewn with maps and parchments that detailed the intricacies of alliances and strategies. The gathering of lords settled into their respective seats, enveloping the table in a sense of purpose and gravitas. Your father leaned forward, engaged in discussions about the expectations of this union, emphasising duty and honour—the very fabric of noble life.

As they spoke, a few lords occasionally cast friendly glances in your direction, but you could sense the unspoken rules that governed the conversation. This was not the sort of assembly where women were expected to voice their thoughts; instead, you listened intently, absorbing the dialogue around you. It was both fascinating and daunting, a whirlwind of responsibilities that felt far removed from the warmth of family gatherings you had known.

You were taken aback that they allowed you to sit at the table at all, a privilege that your father would never have granted you in the South. Perhaps the customs were different in the North, a notion that intrigued and unsettled you. As your gaze wandered around the assembly, it landed on one woman at the table—until that moment, you hadn't realised she was among them.

Dressed in masculine attire, she seemed to blend right in with the lords surrounding her, sitting tall and confident as they addressed her with the same respect reserved for their male counterparts. It was a striking sight, one that momentarily pulled you from your anxious thoughts about the future.

Then, the unexpected happened; she caught your eye and offered a warm smile that brightened her otherwise stern countenance. Heat rose to your cheeks as you realised you had been staring. Quickly, you turned your attention back to Cregan, the man you were to marry, feeling the weight of the room around you as you grappled with the complexities of your new reality.

Cregan Stark was a striking figure to behold, towering head and shoulders above your father, making it instantly clear why others held him in such high esteem. His presence conveyed more than mere physical stature; as soon as he began to speak, his demeanour and the way he carried himself revealed the essence of a man of honour. Unlike the tall men of the South, who seemed like a gust of wind might send them hurtling over the battlements into the sea, Cregan's stature was built broad and firm.

The cloak draped over his shoulders only added to his impressive build, yet you could tell at a glance that this was a physique forged through hard work and rigorous training, not by indulgence in luxuries. Every movement hinted at discipline and strength, an embodiment of the Northern spirit you had heard so much about.

Your eyes focused intently on his face as he spoke, captivated by the way his shoulder-length brown hair framed his features, catching the light to highlight the rugged lines that undeniably spoke of his Northern lineage. Cregan had a strong jaw, lending a chiseled quality to his visage that perfectly complemented the air of unyielding determination he exuded.

But it was his piercing blue eyes that truly drew you in—striking and deep, they seemed to hold an entire world within them. In contrast to the often stark demeanour he carried, those eyes contained an unexpected warmth, like a flickering flame against the cold backdrop of winter. There was a kindness in their depths, a silent promise that perhaps beneath the fierce exterior lay a man capable of tenderness and understanding. With every glance, you felt the pull of his gaze, an invitation to see beyond the bravado and discover the complexities that made him who he was.

He turned and met your eye, and it took you a second to realise that he had asked you a question, you looked around the room at the lords. All poised to listen to your response. You looked to your father for guidance.

"You'll have to excuse my daughter, the journey north has been long. However, I do think that she has enough strength left to accept your suggestion of a tour of Winterfell." he smiled at Lord Stark, who looked from you to your father, an understanding smile playing on his lips as he worked out you hadn't been paying attention.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t expose your lapse in concentration, just stood and shook your father's hand. You stood too as all the other lords stood and moved towards the door. You watched as they filtered out of the room, your father and Cregan being the only two aside from yourself still left in the room.

"Well, I would say that no chaperone is required, it is said that no one in the realms have as much honour as the Starks." your father said, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword as he looked between the two of you.

He nodded and gave you a small smile and turned to leave the room, the guards at the door opening and closing the door. You felt the resounding boom of the door closing in your chest as it seemed to echo around the entire room. The room seemed smaller as you looked from the door to Lord Stark, he looked so much more intimidating now it was only you in the room.

"My Lady, what part of Winterfell would you like to see first?" he asked stepping towards you.

"I- I don’t know." you whispered, finding it too difficult to look him in the eye.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing to your cloak which you had removed and placed on the back of your chair.

You nodded, he carefully picked it up and placed it over your shoulders, you moved your hands to do up the buckle that would secure it to your body and turned to Lord Stark. The massive sword slung across his back caught your attention, its hilt visible above his shoulder—a symbol of the strength and legends whispered in the halls of your childhood home. It seemed a natural extension of him—an embodiment of Cregan Stark, the warrior and the lord.

He smiled down at you, warmth and friendliness lighting up his features. With a gentle tilt of his eyebrow, he extended his elbow towards you, inviting you to take it.

"Well, I shall show you my favourite parts of the castle, and then we'll join your father and the other lords for a late tea," he said, his deep voice smooth and rich, like honey.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, as you took his hand and allowed him to guide you out of the room. Agreeing to marry someone you had never met was undoubtedly a gamble, fraught with uncertainties. Yet, with this match, a sense of hopefulness stirred within you—a feeling as if you had struck gold in a world tarnished by rusted steel.

Your thoughts drifted back to the moment you first learned of your betrothal. That night, your mother had remained by your side, holding you close as you cried, part of you mourning your childhood and the other terrified of the future. She assured you that everything would be alright, words you initially dismissed as just the comforting words you say to someone when they're crying.

But now, with time and distance, you started to see that moment in a different light. There was a certainty in her voice that had been unwavering, and it made you wonder if she had played a part in your match with Lord Stark. Her confidence lingered in your mind, suggesting that perhaps this match carried more promise than you dared to imagine in those initial, tear-filled moments.

Winterfell was a beautiful castle, said to be one of the oldest still standing. As Cregan showed you around, you noticed something different in the way he spoke. Unlike most men, who seemed more interested in proving themselves smarter than you by belittling or over-explaining, Lord Stark had a unique approach.

His way of speaking about the castle and its history felt more like listening to a passionate teacher than a rehearsed lecture. He engaged you with stories, making each tale and detail come alive, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of respect and curiosity grow within you. It was refreshing and made you appreciate not only Winterfell, but also the man guiding you through its storied halls.

He had suggested that the two of you look out over the battlements before retiring to the great hall for something to eat. The climb up to the battlements was more challenging than you had anticipated. The stairs were far narrower than any you had navigated at Storm's End, making you marvel at how men clad in armour could swiftly manoeuvre them during times of war. Yet, as you reached the top, the sight that greeted you was nothing short of breathtaking—a vast, snowy landscape stretching as far as the eye could see. There was a vast expanse of forest in the distance, but even that was coated in snow.

Your home back in Storm's End prided itself on its massive walls for protection against invaders. However, here at Winterfell, the tall walls paired with its isolated, formidable position in the North presented a different kind of strength. The harsh, unforgiving landscape surrounding Winterfell seemed an ally to its defenders, an icy gauntlet capable of claiming the lives of unprepared southern soldiers long before they could even reach the walls. The beauty and latent power of the scene sent a shiver through you, a reminder of the resilience required to thrive in this raw and rugged part of the world.

"There is a small moat hidden by the snow at the bottom of the wall," Cregan began, his gaze shifting to you with a knowing glint in his eyes, as if he was sharing a secret of the North only a few were privy to. "If aren't aware of it and attempt to climb the wall, you sink into snow taller than a man."

You withdrew your hand from the warmth of your fur muff, moving to grasp the metal handle fixed to the wall, hoping to steady yourself for a better view over the battlements. The chill of the metal immediately shot through your fingers, contrasting sharply with the cozy warmth of the muff.

"Agh," you gasped, yanking your hand away from the frigid metal.

Before you could even check for injury, Cregan Stark's gloved hand enveloped yours with a surprising gentleness. He looked down at your hand, his thumb softly brushing across your palm, sending a tingle through your skin. "Careful, My Lady," he murmured, his voice carrying a deep, soothing timbre. "Warm hands stick to cold metal. You could lose some skin if you're not careful."

You grimaced at the thought and glanced back at the metal, reassuring yourself that none of your skin lingered there. "It burns,” you whispered, eyes dropping to the red mark on your palm.

Cregan's gaze met yours, holding a mix of concern and something unspoken. He raised his hand to his mouth, biting the finger of his glove and pulling it off, his breath misting in the cold air. He placed his large, now bare hand over yours, its warmth seeping through your skin, soothing the sting of the cold. His touch seemed to linger longer than necessary, then he removed his hand from yours and pulled the glove from his mouth.

"Careful my Lady, the cold burns sometimes more than fire." He remarked, eyes locked on yours, before slipping his hand back into the glove with deliberate care. "We ought to get you some gloves." His voice carried both practicality and an undercurrent of tenderness that surprised you.

He offered his arm once more, and this time, as you looped your arm around his, the touch felt more intimate, more charged. You tucked your hand back into your fur muff, your hand still feeling the ghost of his.

A Link to My Complete Inventory

[colorfulwastelandvoid]

In defense of MelJay

I just need to say this…SHUT UP! Yall are all tap dancing on my last nerve.I’m am at my wits end with this fandom. Every time I think we take one step forward some dufus pushes us two steps back.

Okay. I’m arguing with a JayVik shipper on TikTok who says MelJay is boring and toxic. I am about to explode this shit can’t still be the main conversation about this ship.

So first off MelJay is “boring”. This isn’t unique to JayVik nor is it the first time someone has said this about MelJay, but I always find it weird when people say certain ships are boring. The ships in question are usually just chill and communicative so there is no needless drama. This probably relates more to online fandoms’ obsession with romanticizing toxicity but I digress. It’s weird that the tension and political intrigue,something of which yall claim to love about the show overall, is in someway boring. The fact they are not constantly arguing or disregarding each other was nice cause I hate that those interactions are normalized in fandom in regard to romantic ships. If one of them had something to say then they would just say it and they would discuss it and move on like a normal couple. There is a lot to digest with them though as separate characters and as a couple. While Mel and Jayce are similar they obviously are not exactly alike. Mel it’s a lot more closed off and tempered and Jayce is more emotionally open and is hot headed. Both want to do good and have enough ambition to do so. It is their methods that differentiate them. Mel is more comfortable working behind the scenes whereas Jayce runs head first. These little differences offers up moments of character growth for both these characters. Mel started to become more aggressive (she was never docile) in her emotions and tactics where Jayce became more level headed.

The second one is that they are toxic. I’m going to keep this part short cause I already addressed this multiple times on this tumblr, so I’ll just bring up my highlights. Mel was not manipulating Jayce throughout their whole relationship. The only times where we see her manipulations is with Hoskel , but f him who cares about that man, and Jayce during progress day when they weren’t even together and Viktor wanted Jayce to do the same thing Mel was asking him to do. He didn’t even listen to her either. Mel and Jayce were genuinely attracted to one another so no she didn’t eventually fall for him she liked him from the first kiss. After a certain point we must recognize that Jayce was coming to Mel for advice and she gave it. Whether he listened to her or not. The investment line, an investment to Mel is not the same as investment to Jayce. An investment to Mel is like an action word. She invested in Hextech cause she genuinely believed in Jayce and Viktors ability to do good and she wanted to help similar to how a parent invest in their child, not because they think they’ll get something in return but because they love and believe in their kid. Jayce knows that, hence why he apologized for insinuating otherwise.

A lot of the so called toxicity the fandom claims they see is cause no one is meaningfully engaging with Mel or Jayce as characters but are just trying to get them to work in whatever ship they see fit.

Listen at the end of the day ship who you want but how you ship is gonna get your critiqued. For the love of anything that’s holy engage with the characters as their own separate entities. Your ships will thank you for it.

Ps I doubt this will be the last time some one will piss me off about Mel, Jayce or their relationship but I’m trying to keep this page more happy, for a lack of better words,so I’m trying not to rant to much. I got one more though. It’ll be way shorter though.

[creolefatu]

Crash Out

***After thinking you were out with another man, Joshua confronts you only to realize he’s trippin***

This is my first time writing like this please be kind lol hope you enjoy

SO YOU REALLY OUT HERE TRYNNA MAKE A NIGGA LOOK DUMB! the voice on the other end of the phone was Joshua, of course. Over reacting as usual. What did I do now?! I thought as he continued to rant.

Josh idk what you’re talkin about, I’ve been home all day! You always callin with some bs. I responded. When he gets like this it does annoy a small part of me, but damn hearing him all fired up like that made my pussy jump and drip.

So now John just lyin on you? So you callin my brotha a liar now! He ain’t got no reason to lie on you Y/N!

Wtf yo messy ass brotha said now? I swear he always got some dumb shit to say and hear you go blowin my phone up with the bullshit Josh!

Dating a twin is not for the weak! If I’m not caught up in their pranks then it’s their drama or pettiness!

So you ass wasn’t in the mall all hugged up with some nigga in Nike? Cause that what my bro said he saw!

Josh listen to yourself! Do you fuckin hear how you sound? Why in the fuck would I be out in public with another man if ima play you? Especially knowing you have eyes everywhere?! And stop all that damn yellin before I hang up!

You gone hang up on me?! Bet!

I could feel the vibrations through the phone of the low growl in his voice when he said it

Bet!

**boop boop boop** was the next sound Josh heard cause I surely did hang up

Walking around my house in a XXL YEET shirt I heard the familiar sound of a truck engine in my driveway.

Y/N OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR RIGHT NOW GIRL!

He was so damn sexy when he was mad 💦

Josh stop banging on my door like that! You’re gonna break it!

Then open it tf up!

He hit the door again this time I heard the frame crack a little

Ok ok ok just stop beating on my shit!

Josh came in looking around before his eyes settled on me

Bae calm tf down! Look at you, you all swole in the chest!

I’m telling you right now y/k if you lyin to me I swear…

Bae look around… I been here in yo shirt all day taking a lazy day.

You’re right I see the ice cream on the counter, the blankets and the movie goin, it’s just John called said he thought he saw you and I lost it! Idk what I’d do if I ever lost you. Just the thought drives me crazy

I grab his face in both hands, he grabbed my wrist and kisses the palm of my right hand.

You know it does something to me when you get like that bae

I’ll crash out any time, any place over you, and over this

He reached bw my legs and lightly grazed my clit

Damn! You ain’t got on no draws for big daddy Jey?! Let me see!

He lifted my shirt off and began to kiss my neck as he slid his hand below my waist and found my soft pussy lips soaked.

You wet for me too, you like when I get like that over you. You my nasty freak

I’m in heaven, his warm kisses on my neck , his thick fingers working their way into my tight wet pussy, finding my g spot and applying pressure. I wrapped both arms around his neck as my legs begin to give way to the pleasure. He walked me back against the wall and never missed a beat. Fingers stroking me, moving in and out to the rhythm of my heart beat. I could barely breathe

This my pussy? Tell me it’s my pussy.

Yes! It’s your pussy baby! It’s daddy Jey’s pussy

Josh pulled his fingers out and sucked my juices off, then pushed them into my mouth to give me a taste.

I want you to taste why I’m ready to crash out behind you bae

His big hands gripped my thighs and lifted me up, I wrapped my legs around his muscular waist. He pulled his pants down and I could feel his 8in dick pop up and slap my ass.

You feel that? You got me feeling like this

Put it in, please I need to feel you in me

He grabbed the shaft and begin slapping my pussy with the head of his dick. It made me absolutely feral! I begin to grind my pussy against him as he continued to tease me. My pussy dripping with anticipation. Then I felt him press his body against mine as he pushed his thick head into me. I gasped… it was what I was begging for. My pussy gripped every inch as he slowly entered me. Once fully in he griped my thighs to hold me up against the wall. The strokes started off slow, moving his hips in a circular motion. Sending me into another dimension.

This what I been needing. When I’m in you, I know you all mine he whispered into my ear.

I could feel every stroke grow stronger, I clawed shoulders as I was looking to readjust my grip on him. The sound of skin smackin and macaroni filled the air, I gasped as he sped up his pace. I could feel him throbbing in me as he grew harder. The growl he made as he pushed deep into me made me even wetter.

You like how I handle that pussy baby?

Mmhm was all I could say. I couldn’t even talk he had me so gone from the dick.

You gone cum for big daddy Jey? He didn’t have ro say no more. I was already there. But he already knew that. This man knew my body like that back of his hand.

Mmmmhm ahhh fuck! You strokin me so good bae

My body begin to shake and my pussy squeezed his dick and I begin the have the best orgasm anyone has ever given me.

Damn baby you bout to make me cum with you

He pressed me harder against the wall and he bottomed out inside of me. He let out a primal growl that made me want a round 2 immediately. Still holding me up he kissed me wildly and passionately. He lowers me to the floor and we both collapsed into each other arms and onto the couch. As I lay on his chest listening to his heart beat he held me tightly and whispered.

Yeah I’ll crash out a million times a day behind that lil pussy.

And I’ll do the same behind that dick

THE END

[greengoblinswifey]

Pining—Luigi Mangione x Fem!Reader

summary— Luigi’s loved you since childhood but never had the courage to confess. In university, he finally gets close to you, only to watch you with someone else. When your breakup gives him a chance, he lays it all out. Based on this request.

warnings— none! just jealousy, unrequited love(for a bit), friends to lovers, fluff, L bombs.

Luigi had been watching you for as long as he could remember. It wasn’t in a creepy way at least, he hoped not. He just couldn’t help it. You were everywhere, pierced into the background of his life.

From his bedroom window, he saw you sometimes, sitting on your porch, airpods in, completely lost in whatever song from your playlist. He watched you walk your dog through the neighborhood, the pep in your step making you look so effortlessly graceful. And every time you laughed at something your friend said, he swore he could feel the sound settle in his chest, making it harder to breathe.

But you were untouchable. And he was just the guy next door.

Going to an all boys school meant there were barely any chances to talk to you. A few stolen glances when you were outside, a quick “hey” if you happened to make eye contact while passing by—nothing more. He wanted more. He wanted to know what made you smile like that, what songs you always had playing in your airpods, if your hands were as soft as they looked.

He was down bad.

So when fate, or maybe just sheer dumb luck reunited you in university, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

He saw you across the quad one day, laughing with a friend, and his heart nearly stopped. He thought about pretending he didn’t see you, that maybe if he just turned and walked the other way, he wouldn’t make a fool of himself. But then, as if the universe had been waiting for this moment, you turned.

And you saw him.

“Luigi?”

You said his name like you were surprised he was real.

His breath caught. “Yeah,” he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

A smile spread across your lips, so bright, so familiar. “Oh my God, it’s been years! I can’t believe you go here!”

And just like that, you became friends.

Well. Sort of.

At first, it was almost painful. He could barely look at you without his face turning red. Every time you sat next to him in the library or playfully pushed him during a joke, he had to remind himself to breathe. You made it easy, though. You didn’t treat him like he was some awkward mess. You talked to him like you had always known him, like he belonged in your world.

The problem?

You had a boyfriend.

And he hated the guy.

Not because he was jealous—okay, maybe a little—but because he could see it. The way your laughter didn’t quite reach your eyes when you talked about him. The way you sometimes hesitated before answering your phone. The way you deserved better.

Luigi wasn’t stupid. He knew he had no right to feel this way. But when he saw the way that guy held your waist like you were just another prize, when he saw you wipe at your eyes after an argument over the phone, it took everything in him not to step in and tell you that you didn’t have to settle for that.

Then, one day, you didn’t.

You showed up at his dorm, puffy eyed and exhausted.

“We broke up,” you said, voice shaky.

And even though he had been waiting—waiting for this moment for what felt like his whole life, he didn’t smile. He didn’t celebrate. He just opened the door wider and let you in.

That night, he let you cry. He let you rant. He let you fall asleep on his bed while he sat on the floor, watching over you like he always had from afar.

And then, slowly, things shifted. You started spending more time with him. The laughter came back, the light in your eyes started to shine a little brighter. And for the first time in years, he let himself hope.

One evening, as you sat together on his dorm bed, scrolling through your phone, you sighed. “I feel like I wasted so much time.”

“You didn’t,” he said.

You turned to him, eyebrow raised. “Oh? And why’s that?”

His fingers curled into his shirt. He knew this was the moment.

“Because,” he said, voice steady, “you were always going to end up here. With me.”

Silence stretched between you. His heart pounded.

Then, you smiled. Soft, like how he always wished you’d smile for him.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I think so too.”

Luigi’s heart was beating too fast. Too hard. He could feel it against his ribs, hammering like it was trying to break free.

You were still looking at him, eyes soft, waiting.

And he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“I—God, I need to say this,” he blurted out, running a hand through his curly hair. His leg bounced anxiously. “I’ve liked you forever. Like—forever. Since we were kids. Since before I even knew what it meant to have a crush on someone. I used to see you walking your dog, and I’d just stand at my window like an idiot, hoping you’d look up. I’d see you with your friends and wonder what it’d be like if I was the one making you laugh. And then I got to university, and you were here, and I thought—” He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “I thought maybe it was a sign or something. But then you had a boyfriend, and I had to j-just sit there and act like I was okay with it, like I wasn’t dying every time you said his name.”

You blinked, lips slightly parted, taking it all in.

“I—” he exhaled shakily, rubbing his hands over his face. “I love you. I’ve loved you for years. I just never thought I’d get the chance to tell you.”

His breath was uneven, nerves twisting inside him, and he was just about to start apologizing, maybe even backpedal, when you moved.

You swung your legs over him, settling onto his lap. His breath hitched.

Your hands smoothed over his chest, right where his heart was trying to beat out of control. He swore it skipped when you finally spoke.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

His lips parted, eyes wide. “You—?”

You smiled, pressing your palm a little firmer against his chest. “Yeah, Luigi. I do.”

For once, he was speechless.

You tilted your head, searching his face. “Breathe, Lu.”

He let out a shaky exhale, his body finally beginning to relax under your touch. His hands came up hesitantly, resting on your waist.

And then, finally, finally, you kissed him.

It was slow, warm, and when your fingers slid into his curls, a soft sound came from his chest. Years of waiting, wanting, hoping—it all melted into this single moment.

You pulled back to press your forehead against his. “Everything’s okay now.”

He nodded, exhaling softly. “Yeah,” he murmured, lips still brushing over yours. “Perfect.”

But then he gently cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he studied you, his eyes filled with something deep and unwavering. “I wanna do this right,” he admitted softly. “I’ve waited so long for you, and I don’t wanna rush anything. You deserve more than that. More than me just jumping in without thinking. I want to take my time with you. I want to do everything the right way, because you—” He paused. “You mean everything to me.”

Your heart swelled, your fingers tightening in his hair as you kissed him again, slow and sweet.

“I want that too,” you murmured against his lips.

Luigi smiled, pulling you impossibly closer. “Good,”he whispered. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

And just like that, the story he had been waiting to write finally began.

[darylsdelts]

Rant time!

I hate that people treat me like I’m dumb.

A few people in my flat (who are my friends) always look at me and talk to me as if I have no brain cells. It’s really annoying because they also do not listen.

Yknow when men just think that because they’re louder that they are right? Ugh.

I was just in the kitchen and I said I was going to go to bed and he said “no you’re not sit down”

Like… hello? That’s kinda embarrassing why are you treating me like a kid.

I told him I was going to bed and he said I was a liar.

Interesting.

Ever since i told him I was autistic (I only told him because he kept wanting an explanation for why I’m so “strange “???) he just makes jokes about it and when something overwhelms me or I just can’t process something, I tell him but he talks over me and gets louder and just makes me feel ridiculous.

It annoys me that it gets to me this much cuz stuff usually doesn’t, it’s just difficult and it makes me angry.

Another thing, if he asks me something and I answer but he doesn’t hear me he’ll say “great talk, you didn’t wanna fucking answer me?” In his American accent.

Dude shut the fuck up seriously.

Like no matter what I do, it’s wrong.

I don’t know how to change.

How do I show that I’m not fucking stupid?

[according2thelore]

Random question about some ABO verse, but do you think that they'd have something like a sex-ed class during middle/high school?

Like, just imagine Sammy (a bit weirded out) but so amazed that his big brother (O!Dean) has these "innate" abilities to be naturally "perfect" caregivers/companions, wayyyyy better than their "Alpha" dad who just dumps them and disappears days/weeks on end just to go "hunting with friends".

Idk, I like to imagine Sam going into a rabbit hole and reading up on whatever reading materials were available at school/the public library and eventually tries to find some law books after hearing about some changes in omega related legislation.

Anyway I'm just ranting at this point hahaha!

(Just ignore this ask if it's not something you're interested in 👍👍👍)

hi, anon!!!

NOT SOMETHING I'M INTERESTED IN????!?!?!??? this is EXACTLY what i'm interested in, anon!! thank you so much for sending it in!!!!!

let's TALKKKKKKKKK about baby sam PLEASEEE

something i have ALWAYS adored is the idea that sam, when he's young and right in that sweet spot after dean presents as an omega but before sam presents, he wants to be an omega so bad. like. sooooo bad.

his only real alpha influence in his life is his father, and we all know how he feels about his father and his "my-way-or-the-highway" mentality. john says something and expects you to hop-to it, because his word is law. bobby's a beta, and the only other alphas sam ever spends time around is the occasional teacher and caleb, when they end up in the same state and dad needs help on a hunt.

then dean presents, and everything about his little life changes. dean becomes even more protective of him than he thought possible. john pulls him aside and tells him that he and sam are going to have to keep an extra eye out for dean, because people might treat him differently.

despite this, john becomes more distant than ever as they become teenagers and he can leave them alone without raising too many eyebrows or risk them killing themselves like when they were ten and six.

when sam hits sixth grade, his teachers awkwardly announce that this is the first year they'll have a secondary designation class, and all of the kids titter awkwardly. a kid in sam's class has already presented, an alpha with burgeoning pimples on the baseball team.

sam has more context for dean's presentation, why he went still and shocked and why his smell was bad-bad-wrong-new-not-dean before it became fully dean again--fresh and calming and warm. he learns that there isn't really a way to predict what someone will present as, despite the playground taunts and characters in TV shows that insist they always knew someone was one-thing-or-another because of how they acted or dressed.

sam learns that omegas tend to be more naturally nurturing, and how they make nests when they're approaching heat. they're ferociously protective, especially over pups, and they are happiest and have the highest satisfaction rates if they have a strong community.

alphas are natural leaders. alphas are innate protectors, headstrong, and fiercely loyal. alphas scent their pups or mate or packmates to make sure they can go about their business unbothered, and butt heads with other alphas when challenged. alphas are supposed to make sure everyone in their pack is healthy, happy, and most importantly, safe.

sam can't stop his lip curling in disgust. their dad can usually only manage one or two out of three; he hits all three maybe five times a year.

sam's starting to realize that dean is kind of the perfect older brother. and kind of a perfect omega. despite the fact he's still kind of a dick. (sam bitterly remembers this morning when dean flipped the mattress because sam was going to make them late for school.)

sam--resentfully--can't remember the last time dad even tried to scent him or dean before he left for weeks at a time, while sam can still smell some of dean's open air-sunshine-musky scent on his own wrists from dean wrestling him near the door and doing his daily scenting.

it would be so nice, sam starts to think, as he reads about how omegas tend to form incredibly tight personal bonds, and how alphas always butt heads, if he presented as an omega, too. alphas are kind of lunk-heads anyway. he and dean could be the same. the thought fills him with a bubble of buoyant hope that he can't pop, all the way home.

he doesn't tell dean any of this, embarrassed in his fantasies of them running away together and starting a completely new life away from john and his abandonment and mission. maybe even...his ears flush, and he buries his face in his math book to hide his pink ears from dean--helping each other through heats. sam knows what dean smells like when he's in heat. since he's still unpresented, he's in charge of bringing dean food and water and making sure he doesn't die. dean has pulled him more than once into his nest for comfort, sam pressing his perpetually-cold fingers against dean's feverish forehead as dean's head lolled. it's been entirely familial. regretfully so. it would be...nice. really nice. if they could grow up and experience that together.

even if he was a beta, sam could be happy. he could still help dean through his heats, if dean was okay with that. they could still have a fully completed pack-bond, instead of the faint pup one they have now.

he becomes obsessed with omega laws--digging into books and city hall ledgers for hours. one time, a guy corners a seventeen-year-old dean in a gas station and sam--still completely unpresented--almost rips the guy's head off. dean absolutely had it covered, as he keeps snapping at sam the entire way back to the motel, but sam is still buzzing with rage that people are going to do this to dean--treat him like this--forever.

and then sam presents as an alpha, aged fourteen. a late bloomer.

he's devastated. dean pets his hair away from his forehead, stringy with sweat, and sits on the ground outside of the closed motel door throughout sam's entire rut. he parks the car right in front of the door and barely sleeps to make sure no one gets close to their motel room, since dad has been gone for the last week and a half. keeping him safe. an innate, natural protector. an instinctual caregiver.

sam cries into his pillow, even as he feels like his skin is going to peel off his bones, because he and dean will never be the same thing, now.

he knows dean's quietly upset, too. he thinks he failed dad in some way, by not being an alpha. the fact that sam doesn't find a ton of joy in being just like their asshole dad doesn't bring dean a lot of comfort. dean wants to be just like dad, wants to make him proud.

sam couldn't give a shit about making dad proud.

he stays devastated, until his civics class in freshman year. their unit on omega laws sets an absolute fire under his ass. omegas are just as capable as alphas. dean--who can gut a drower in ten seconds and has been stepping between his and dad's constant fighting more and more every single day (even if it's just to throw sam back on his ass, and despite the fact sam knows having two alphas dean feels loyalty for coming to blows and giving off all kinds of commanding and acerbic pheromones is a biological warhead for dean), and loves spaghetti westerns and can drink anyone under the table and has shed gallons of blood over the years to keep sam safe--is better than three of his alpha dad put together.

alphas are supposed to be protectors. they're supposed to keep others safe. and if sam has to be like this, he's going to harness it to help.

he can't stop looking up case law, can't stop researching legal precedent, and civic lawyers who represent omegas in court. he turns in a paper on Trent v Polaski for his AP government class, and his teacher asks if he's ever considered going to law school.

sam feels something hot and sharp and terrifying take root in his chest.

EEK!! i just love this ask, anon! i hope this was what you were looking for, but if not, PLEASE send another, lol! i love talking about omegaverse wincest, clearly!!! thank you again for this ask!! mwah mwah mwah <3

-lizzy

[more-mara]

NO WAIT please talk more about WAG!Carlos because I actually REALLY LOVE WAG!Carlos and it's been on my mind for a long time and I felt like I'm alone in this. I really like the established relationship idea of Oscar looking mighty walking alone in the paddock, but once Carlos is there, walking alongside Oscar and holding his hand, everyone can see who's the dom and who's the babygirl 😂 not that dom dom but like who tops and bottoms.

In my mind Carlos is a man in finance or consulting. Because, damn, everytime I picture him in fitted shirts and dark coloured slacks my mind goes brrr. They share an apartment in London and Oscar always goes back home after races to him. Carlos visits Oscar for races everytime he can (but he always makes time for Silverstone), and everytime he visits, the journalists and social media literally go very crazy about "Piastri's very hot, sculpted by the God himself, Spanish boyfriend". Oh and Oscar claiming the Spain GP as his home race because "my partner is Spanish and he lives and breathes Real Madrid and I'm very sure I'll marry him so".

I can't picture of the announcement of Oscar coming out, but I think I like the idea of soft launching first through his instagram or maybe Estrella Galicia makes Oscar and Lando talk Spanish slangs and Oscar aces all the questions and be like "My boyfriend is Spanish and he likes to teach me Spanish terms" something like that. Then boom Carlos coming to a race with him.

Eventhough Carlos is the one who tops and is very good in bed, but him also being soft and fluffy and calls Oscar with pet names in Spanish (tesoro, cariño, mi amor, etc) and cooks for him everytime Oscar's back home.

I can picture Oscar on break, dumping holiday pictures on his instagram and everyone goes crazy of Carlos shirtless and flaunting his abs and his super fit body in one (or many) of the pictures. Carlos having his instagram private and everyone will be asking Oscar to let his boyfriend open his instagram for public lol.

I'm going to stop because if I continue, I'll literally dump my thoughts (including the NSFW ones) and this ask will be very long lol thank you for reading my rants!

Oh, you’ve been THINKING about this lol. Anon I love this please continue. Side note, I had written an entire response to this once already but tumblr deleted it 🤡 I can’t remember half the shit I originally said but here we go lmao

I 100% see the man in finance vibes I just wanted to go against the grain and say something else lol but I absolutely imagine him in some white collar job. He constantly wears tailored suits, even in hot weather which Oscar will complain to no end about but ultimately it won’t change Carlos’ mind because it’s his brand.

Oscar gets a little irked by it because he’s supposed to be the celebrity, yet he give off so much just a guy energy when he’s walking hand in hand with Carlos. Oscar highkey loves the attention which is why it bothers him so much when Carlos steals it from him.

In comes the Spanish gp and Carlos is in yet another equivalent price of a mortgage suit. Osc saying it’s “basically my home gp now, I guess,” with a giggle as he eyes the screen where Carlos is clapping and smirking when he notices the attention on him- sending a little wink towards the camera that has Oscar stumbling over his words.

The media always goads Oscar for being “the girlfriend” in the relationship (let’s be real, media love to heteroify queer relationships and would 100% do it to them) but it’s always water off Oscar’s back as he redirects the conversation to how sexy and successful his boyfie is, “He’s just bought a new property in New York 🙂,”

Regarding coming out, Oscar is absolutely of the “I don’t need to come out, I’m just gonna live my life,” stance. He probably drops a “my partner is opening a new business back in London, he’d definitely know better than me if that’s a good idea,” when an interviewer asks about whether he’d buy a house in Monaco. Twitter goes crazy “DID OSCAR JUST SAY HE???!!” and that’s that, now Carlos shows up everywhere he can to show off who Oscar managed to pull.

Oscar loves the pet names but can’t stand it when Carlos uses them in public- goes beet red when Carlos calls him ‘mi amor’ when speaking with a journalist.

NSFW because I can’t help myself- Carlos always refuses to fuck Oscar on a race weekend because “I cannot affect your performance,” and Oscar fucking hates it. Oscar is lowkey needy in bed and can be a little insatiable at times, especially during a stressful week (e.g. a race week) so he goes out of his way to tease Carlos every chance he gets- even in public to see how long it will take for Carlos to snap. Except Carlos never does and remains firm in his stance which Oscar whines and complains about constantly until Sunday night when Carlos finally touches him and fucks the weeks brattiness out of him

Side note, Carlos is good in bed, like- really good, to the point where Oscar can’t even think about anything except for Carlos’ insane dick game. Carlos is experienced in so many ways that Oscar gets insanely jealous every time he thinks about it- getting angry at the thought of Carlos fucking anyone besides him. It’s a funny contrast because Oscar was basically celibate when he and Carlos first met and their first time in bed had Oscar experiencing pleasures he never though possible.

And yeah, Oscar just fully posting thirst traps of Carlos to make everyone jealous that only he gets to see it on a daily basis.

[ezrasxfics]

Heyyy,Can you write an angst where Ragatha can't control herself for the first time and says something that REALLY breaks Jax's heart, and Jax gets abstracted because of Ragatha, and then Ragatha suffers a pang of conscience??

I HOPE YOU ABSTRACT-!!!

-

platonic ragatha + jax angst

-

ragatha pov

just another day. another day in this circus. another day with jax tormenting everyone-!! he always does this. it’s infuriating, it’s exhausting. i’m tired of cleaning up after him! honestly, he is the most insufferable person i know.

right now, he’s making fun of gangle. breaking her comedy mask again. i’ve genuinely lost count of how many times he’s done this, and i’m not going to let it slide anymore. he’s hurt us all enough, and it’s genuinely getting to the point where i need to confront him.

so that’s exactly what i’ll do.

without even thinking about it, i find myself approaching him, hands on my hips in anger. “JAX—! what are you.. why are you doing this!? why do you always have to— oh my god..” i rant, losing my train of thought halfway through because of that infuriatingly smug grin. just looking at it is enough to make me want to snap him in half like a twig.

“c’mon, raggy~! it’s all in good fun. she’s laughin’, ain’t you, crybaby?” he retorts, using his fingers to contort her mouth into a grin. “see? y’know, i don’t think ive ever seen her this happy! maybe that mask is really useless after all, huh?” at this, gangle whimpers a little, only feeding into my fury at this.. disgusting rabbit.

“HAPPY!? she’s anything but happy- look at her- no- get your hands off her—“ as i say this, i slap his hands away from her, allowing her to return to her natural, a lot less creepy, expression. “you’re so cruel to her. she doesn’t deserve this- none of us do-!!”

“well, none of us deserved to be trapped in this place either, did we?” he snaps back, horrible logic. he’s right in the fact we don’t deserve to be here, but that still doesn’t give him any right—

“well maybe YOU did-!! god- i hope you abstract-!!!” i yell, before realising what i said, covering my mouth in pure shock and regret. “i- i didn’t mean—“

“yeah, ya did, raggy. you meant every worda it." his smirk falters for a few moments, before he turns around, retreating. “this was a waste of time, see you guys later.”

…

a day has passed now, and jax is still sulking in his room. nobody’s seen him. did i go too hard..? i mean, i’ve never yelled at anyone like that before, it felt wrong. no. it was wrong. of course i don’t want him to abstract, i wouldn’t wish that on anyone, no matter how cruel they are. i’m outside of his room now, trying to check in on him, to apologise. i know he won’t accept it, but there’s no harm in trying.

knock knock

“jax? are you there?”

….

“about yesterday, i didn’t mean to..”

……..

“jax, i know you’re in there, i can hear you moving around! please, just let me in. we can talk this out—!”

…………..

“please.. you’re scaring me a little.”

…………………..

“i’m coming in, okay?”

i gently open the door.

“ja—“

he wasn’t there. in his place, a giant, glitching creature. abstract shapes. abstract— god, no. no, please, no.

i resist the urge to shriek, to run, because i know this is my fault. i need to face the consequences of my actions. jax abstracted, and it’s all my own doing.

wish come true. except not really.

-

thanks for the request!!!! can you spot the reference to a particular horror game?? :33

reblogs appreciated!!

[mercurygray]

Blind Dates 2025: Reputed

Well, this was half a Blind Date and half of a character study on Bill, but I had fun with it and that's what counts! Everyone go read the rest of the @blind-dates-fest characters! Fandom: SAS: Rogue Heroes (spoilers for s2) Word Count: 3,285

-

Wars, his father used to say, are fought by soldiers but won by plans.

Bill Stirling knew in his heart that his father was correct - Brigadier General Archibald Stirling was something of an expert on these things - but the reassurance still weighed very little against the actual doing of the thing, and if Bill had to sign another requisition in triplicate authorizing the removal or reorganization or re-upping of whatever to wherever he was quite sure he was going to throw something.

No one became a soldier to fill out paperwork - and yet here here he was, and paperwork seemed to be all he had.

Bill could remember far too many conversations along these lines in Cairo, David ranting over his whiskey while Peter only laughed. "Well it's all right for you, you're at the damn embassy," David accused. "What is the point of being in a fucking war if there's not going to be any fucking fighting?" And then Peter would say something else inflammatory and David would pull back his chair and Bill would move the bottles and the glasses and suggest they all go home if they were only intent on breaking things.

That was the way of it, with older siblings, despite whatever anyone might say to the contrary - always negotiating, always second. Older brothers were supposed to take the high road and let their younger brothers have their way - to let them be the first to chose the game and first to say when they were finished, first to chose sides and first to declare winners. They’re little, the nursemaid would say, as David took the biggest cookie and Peter the biggest sandwich and Hugh the better tennis racquet, even though he was only four and couldn’t yet play. They don’t know better, he was told, even when Hugh came crying back with the racquet, broken now, and wondering why he could not make the ball go as far as Bill had.

And Bill would have to let it go. Older brothers were supposed to pick up whatever got put down and make it work again - clockwork toys and regiments, both.

So here he was, in Bagnara, still fixing David's toys, and dealing with all the other nonsense that his brother had never bothered with because in his world wars were not for paperwork or plans. Never mind that he'd had his own ambitions, his own selected trajectory, the things that he might call his own and mean it. David and Hugh wanted glory, and Peter wanted power, and Bill wanted - Bill wanted purpose, what he'd had at Inverailort. The trainings he'd lead, the soldiers he'd selected and honed like their fighting knives, ready to go silently back into their sheath until the time was at hand to let them loose. The purpose of the organization to which you and I belong is subversion.

Bill took a deep breath and looked around him at the remains of the German guard post, noting the blood spatters, the ripped clothes and gouged eyes. There was nothing subversive about this, nothing subtle - these were the wild dogs of war that his brother had so boasted about. Blood and destruction shall be so in use, and dreadful objects so familiar that mothers shall but smile when they behold their infants quarter'd with the hands of war.

Paddy Mayne would have appreciated the Shakespeare, he thought - the man seemed to have a poetic tag for everything. Including women, perhaps? Bill glanced down the road at the approaching car, reviewing the approach to his next problem.

"Let's try and avoid relaying any idle gossip about mad men and savages to anyone," he said to the officer next to him, carefully watching the woman in the back seat, the sun glinting on her glasses and the bright silk of her scarf. "Especially not her. She's a journalist and a spy."

"No, sir. Of course not, sir." Greville-Bell took a deep breath of his own, and then asked, almost hesitating as he considered the jeep that was now approaching. "How do you know she's a spy, sir?"

The question almost made Bill laugh. Because no woman comes here openly who isn't looking for something. Because I've been told so, by men I can trust. Because it takes one to know one, and that's what I am, too. "Call it a hunch, Lieutenant," Stirling said, and offered no further information, letting the other officer return to the duties he'd just been assigned while he carefully combed his hair down with his fingers and adjusted his shirt - a little movement she was sure to see from the back seat of the jeep. Here was his role today - the less polished older brother, trying to impress the pretty girl who'd captured his brother's eye. "Ah, Miss Mansour. Lieutenant Colonel Bill Stirling. 2SAS. We missed each other in Sicily."

"You mean you avoided me and ignored my request for an interview." The Frenchwoman exited the jeep with a sense of urgency, hardly paying any attention to Bill as she glanced around the guard post, taking note herself of the bodies splayed here and there whose pockets were still being investigated by his intelligence officers.

Straightforward - he'd expected that. "I don't really do interviews. Rather busy fighting a war."

"I knew your brother in Cairo," she said, casually, like that was going to bait him into something.

"Yes," Bill said, squaring his shoulders as if with some annoyance, "and because he is my brother, he told me absolutely nothing about you."

One got territorial, in a house full of brothers - of dreams and possessions both. As they got older and learned the laws of property, the matter of my book and my dog and my gun became more distinct, and each distinction borne on the back of another slight and another fight and another bruised eye, until they all learned to be more sly in their counterattacks.

Bill could still remember the time David had ‘borrowed’ (his word) one of his golf clubs, the one that he knew he’d said once had a better drive, and chipped the finish, and he, in a fit of revenge, swept in before his brother could get a word in edgewise and asked the girl he knew David was sweet on for a dance at the club that evening. (There were some advantages to being older, when the cards were down, and being slightly taller and slightly more sophisticated and slightly more practiced in the ways of women were several.) David got a little more circumspect about sharing his feelings on women with his brothers after that, though there was nothing to be done to hide the many tells that Bill had learned from twenty years of careful observation.

That had been the start of his career in intelligence. The first way you must fight your enemy is by knowing him - his secrets, his vulnerabilities, his habits and his patterns. Careful intelligence is the first step in a successful campaign, and you must not begin your work without it.

He denied her requests in the most polite terms, watching as her expression turned more and more stormy seeing he would not let her go where she desired. "Your brother really didn't tell you anything about me," she said, finally, staring at him with a stony face.

Oh, no, Bill thought to himself, his smile invisible behind his annoyance and his rules and strictures, walking away and leaving her at the post. When he was completely unlike himself, he told me absolutely everything - and I will use that against you in whatever way I can.

What he did or said now, he knew, would matter very little - Eve Mansour would do whatever she was going to do, and there was nothing he could do to stop her. His opposition was a matter of formality only - a way to continue playing the role she'd assigned him. Other things required his time and attention and he would use those precious resources where they would do the most good. There were reports to review in his command post, maps to consult and plans to relay to Paddy Mayne, who was last seen hiking into the hills with his men to find, in his own words, a quieter place.

Bill collected his dispatches, checked in with his signals officer, and walked into the tent his men had erected as a command post ...only to find something there that he had completely failed to anticipate - a woman in her late twenties, wearing a faded black housedress, a handkerchief over her hair, and a man's jacket with thinning elbows, perfectly at her ease behind his desk.

"Good Christ!"

She looked up from her reading with a slight smile, pleased, it seemed, to be so discovered. "You know, if this is your idea of security, I shudder to think what the Germans are getting away with."

Her amusement annoyed him. "What are you doing here?"

Another smile. "I should have thought that was obvious. I'm reading your mail."

"Not that, what are you doing here?" The last time I saw you was in Scotland. "The security of the organisation," she said, smiling as she quoted one of his own lectures back to him, "as a whole depends on the security of individual agents. No member will be told more about the organisation than is necessary for him to do his job." He allowed her that small coup and remained silent. "I love the smell of sand and water," she said, rising from her seat and waiting for him to return the pass phrase - the one from their final assignment, the test to see if they were fit for the field. If he didn't know her, it would have mattered more - but she was doing as she'd been taught, and there was beauty in that. "But heather and stone is equally fine."

She nodded, niceties satisfied. "I've been up in the hills near Santa Christina making friends for the last year and a half. A little bird told me the British had finally landed."

"And you thought you'd just...come into an army camp alone for a little chat, hoping you knew someone?" The next line of the manual was near at hand: No member will attempt to find out more about the organisation than he is told.

"Italy is full of widows. No one notices a woman in black. And I had a good teacher."

"Grace," Bill warned.

The sound of her name - her real name - brought only the briefest flash of recognition, covered a moment later by practiced confusion with a touch of anger, and he realized that he had broken one of his own rules, drummed religiously into his students. The agent must not mention facts which he himself is not supposed to know. Sixteen months in the field - when, he wondered, had someone last called her that? Who here now would know that she had once belonged to the name? That was part of the training at Inverailort, to give up your name in place of a new one, a series of costumes and disguises that could be picked up and shed at the blink of an eye.

He could remember sitting behind a long table in the Great Hall, reading the dossier of the woman standing in front of them. Women's Royal Naval Service. Place of Residence, Margate. Parents occupation given as shopkeeper - place of birth, Campagna. Emigrated 1921. Fluent in Italian. Spadolo, Maria ...Grazia. The way his fellow lecturer read it aloud grated on the ear, and she quickly corrected him. "I've always gone by Grace, sir. No one can pronounce Grazia."

Already an alias, something to hide behind. A woman of no particular importance or charm, the sort you saw at shop counters and bus stops who only came to your attention if you were allowed a smile. Practically invisible - just the sort we need. Lynx, who was Benedetta, who was Livia Tormola, who was Ordinary Wren Grace Spadolo, from Margate.

A woman, he could see, who after more than a year in the field knew far too well how much all those names could protect her, the desperate necessity of the pass phrase. "Mi scusi, signore. Mi dispiace di averla offesa, ma il mio nome non è Grace." She pronounced the words quickly, as though she did not understand English, as she'd been taught to do in Scotland in case someone stopped her. "È Livia." He pursed his lips, a silent sign that he knew he'd been in the wrong. "The little bird also had orders for me to establish contact with you specifically - and with your man in the Etna circuit - Brutto. He's been out of radio contact and I have papers for him before he goes into Termoli - and updated intelligence."

"Intelligence?"

"A new brief. They have an leak. Someone's passing information to the authorities, and we need it stopped before you take the city. The man's clever, but only just. We have his name and he needs to be removed. Can you call him in?"

He had nearly opened up the flap of his tent to call for an orderly when he remembered security. "Someone could see you. You've no reason to be here. Your cover - "

She shrugged. "Italy is full of widows - and everyone knows soldiers will pay for anything." She chuckled at his shock that she'd even think to suggest that as a cover for her presence. "Surely Lieutenant Colonel Stirling is allowed a little vice." Her smile was soft and mischievous - the same smile he remembered from Scotland when she'd done particularly well on an assignment, outplayed the traps that other trainees had fallen into. Shopgirls from Margate knew more about how the world worked than debs who'd learned their Italian from nuns. "Perhaps it would help your reputation among your men."

"Livia." He remembered himself this time, using the name he was supposed to use.

"That is your cover now, isn't it? The ...unassailable commander?" Another one of her soft smiles. "Men talk an awful lot when their captains aren't listening. The man they were describing wasn't the one I knew in Scotland, who knew how to smile and take a joke."

He recalled the particulars of the lecture on covers - The story, being real, will be self-consistent. Records will confirm at least part of it. However, people acquainted with the person whom you are impersonating may give you away. "Inflexible martinets can't be seen with widows. Especially pretty ones."

"And pretty journalists?" Her amusement was almost infectious. "I saw some of your performance down at the harbor - the bit with the hair was quite good. Who is she, really?"

" Another spy - and my brother's lover." He sighed. "I didn't give her what she wanted, so I'm sure she'll be back later to try again."

"To seduce you?"

He considered Eve's bright scarf and stylish hat, a strong contrast to Grace's workaday dress and worn-down flats, gritty with dust from the road. No one had driven her to Bagnara - unless it had been on the back of a donkey cart. And the ways of her war were quite different to Eve's. But then, they'd had different teachers. "Most likely. She seduced David. Why should his older brother be any different?"

"He didn't tell her anything about you, then."

"No," he said, smiling as he did so. "He didn't tell anyone."

His mind was made up. He strode over to the tent flap, opened it wide, and didn't care at all when his batman turned around and saw a woman in the shadows of the tent. "Lofty, where is Sergeant Riley? I want to catch him before he goes."

Lofty's eyes were politely wide. "I think he's up at 1SAS, sir. Something about rum."

Paddy Mayne's 'quiet place' was some ten minutes out of town, amidst a tumbled-down farmhouse that had quickly been turned into a slapdash camp, supplies and packs tossed where their owners had found level ground.

Only McDiarmid stood up when he saw them approaching, snapping his heels together with a great goofy grin on his face and saluting with parade ground polish from underneath a very non- uniform issue fedora. "Lieutenant Colonel Bill, sir! Boots still in tip-top shape, I see." His gaze moved on to Grace beside him - the bedraggled but still winsome Italian farmwife, her kerchief tucked into her pocket after it had nearly blown away in the jeep, dark curls escaping their pins. "And you brought a friend. Well, hello, sweeting, and who are you?" He stroked a piece of hay off of her coat collar. "Bill showing you a nice time?"

It was like something out of a training script- in less time than it took to breathe, she had seized his hand, and wrenched his arm around behind his back, to the absolute awe of everyone who'd seen it, her English perfect and unmistakable - "Touch me again, trooper, and you'll lose more than your shirt."

The men were staring, and Bill had a hard time keeping his well-deserved smile to himself. "This is Livia Tormola, one of our operatives here in Italy." She let McDiarmid go, and the big man stepped quickly away, flexing his fingers. "She's here to speak to Riley."

"Where the fuck did you learn to do that, girl?" Jock was nursing a sore wrist and an even more sore ego.

Grace scoffed. "On my combatives course, the same as you." She glanced over at Bill, a slight smile creeping to her lips. "Colonel Stirling was an excellent teacher for hand-to-hand gutter fighting."

All eyes turned to tall, weedy Lieutenant Colonel Stirling, who was not his brother and had, as far as they were aware, stolen no glory, thrown no bombs and killed no men. What else has this man done that we are unaware of? What reputations have we not seen?

Paddy's sneered retort in the prison bathroom, the angry glint in his one unbattered eye as the two of them squared off, the dirty decorated brawler and the shiny lord's son - As far as I'm aware, you don't have a reputation.

How he'd wanted to smile then, staring down his brother's mad dog. No, Major Mayne, you are right. I am known for nothing. I am not my father, who was known for plans, and I am not my brother, who is known for daring, and I am not you, Paddy Mayne, who is feted for madness and swift rage. My reputation is only among those who trained with me and to them I was a good liar and a ghost and a knife in the dark, and I taught them all to be the same.

I am completely unknown to you - and that is just as I want it, because that means I will be whatever I allow you to see of me - the older brother, put upon for command, eclipsed and overlooked and angry about it, a man who has earned none of what he has, a wall to bash your fists against.

That is what my brother has told me you require to win, so that is exactly what I will be for you. For myself, I am someone else entirely.

And that's just as I've planned it.

---

Any errors in Grace's Italian are entirely mine and Duolingo's. The manual Grace and Bill are quoting is the SOE Operations Manual from the course at Beaulieu, which you can read online at archive.org.

A big thank you to the several friends who let me complain about this for the last two weeks and wrote me permission slips.

[themiraculouschatnoirblog]

ATP i'm just not even sure why they put CN's name in the title...

Like, thinking about it, there's no way they ever planned for Adrien/CN to be near as much of a main character as Mari/LB.

First of all, they only gave LB a way to purify akumas/amoks. If LB and CN are supposed to be partners of equal standing, how is it that one can exist without the other? Bc no matter how many times they try to claim otherwise in the show, LB can handle herself just fine without CN. This is just the simple, sad truth because the writers decided LB needed to come off as a more competent hero than CN despite the fact that he has the same basic fighting ability that she does, if not better bc of his fencing skills. Actually, we don't even know if he could defeat a villain himself as they never give him the chance to. They always have to have LB be the one to save the day. They very easily could have LB be affected or trapped by a villain in the same way CN is all the time, just to have her be saved to perform her miraculous ladybug and purify the akuma. Like something similar to CN in Dark Cupid. They have the ability to do this, they just decide not to.

Second, and I mean this one's pretty obvious: the theme song, the shortened one they actually use for the show. Self-explanatory.

Third, Mari is the only one who got to meet with Master Fu for a long time, resulting in her being the only one who gets to know heroes' identities. For what reason? Now, I get why two people knowing one hero's identity could be risky, but CN could've gone to Master Fu, chosen a hero or two, and returned the miraculous after the battle with no problem. And when the issue of LB not having enough time to collect all the miraculous after a battle came up, I don't see why CN couldn't have helped. There would've been ways for holders to return miraculous without identities having to be shown (see: Alya's first outing as Rena).

Now, I could probably keep going for a really long time so I'll just make this final point: Adrien/CN is always left in the dark!! No matter how many times he expresses how much he hates secrets, Mari/LB was/is always leaving him out! For why??? Now, keep in mind that I've only watched through the first few eps of s5 and I barely remember them, so maybe she's told him some stuff now, but it's legit so frustrating. And now with s6 and the whole Gabriel secret... it's just gonna happen again, I can feel it. But fr: Adrien/CN deserves to know things!

I'll stop myself here. I wanted to make a quick clarification that I don't hate Mari or LB; I actually love her and I think she makes a great main character! I just wish that the show lived up to its name and had two mcs instead of one. They should be on equal footing with equal screentime (and importance), but unfortunately that's just not the case, and makes the show title seem pretty misleading. Anyways, since I apparently have more to say (more than even I thought lol) lemme know if you want me to continue this post or go into more detail about something!

Thanks for reading my first rant on this blog! <3

[gurobitsu]

Hello hello, I’m sorry for doing this anon but it links back to my dead main that I don’t use anymore 😅 I saw your reblog of my Mista backstory rant and the tags reallyyyyyyy interested me, we have a lot of the same ideas! If it’s alright with you, would you be willing to share a more in depth version of it? I’d love to read it! (o^^o)

YIPPEE i’m so happy to hear that!! i pretty much never talk about my own hcs (kinda nervous 😛) so here’s what i got…

* for the gurobits nation keep in mind this is SPECIFICALLY only for mista IN JJBA, usually the mista i draw/my “version”/characterization of him is a completely different au. this is just how i see Him as the Character in the show

⚠️ TW for some sensitive topics !!

guido mista backstory written by yours truly…

* i’ll use an asterisk for when something that’s ACTUALLY from his canon backstory pops up

mista, youngest of 4 (3 sisters who are 10+ years older than him), was born to (unnamed… never headcanoned a name for them…) mother and father in palermo, sicily. i’d picture his mom to be short and stout, and his father tall and bulky. his mother was loving and sweet, but his father was a deadbeat jackass who… wasn’t a good rep for mista, the only other boy in the family. and despite being a caring mother, she couldn’t be a good mother. she couldn’t always be there for her children due to their household already struggling with income, living in a poor part of the city, taking care of 4 children, and verbal/physical abuse from mista’s father. and being a victim, she ended up also contributing to the cycle of abuse but in a neglectful/emotionally unavailable way.

later along the line, mista’s parents divorce and his father eventually goes to prison (either for battery or assault… smth bad but expected). mista is around 10-12 now, and is pretty much told to be the “man of the house”. their way of living was honestly… heavily patriarchal.

* this is around the time his neighbor’s eye got scratched by the cat. he may not have developed a fear of the number 4 because of it, but it certainly made him scared of cats lol. and also! i don’t really think there was any big event that “gave” him tetraphobia. i personally headcanon he has ocd and has always been particular about numbers and patterns in general, and as a kid he learned and observed 2 things: 4th cat went crazy, and he’s the 4th child (at this point in time he began to really hate his life and had become heavily neglected).

he was homeschooled until 14 when he started high school. a very bad student. big jock though. no he did not get along with the ladies, no he was not popular. he was bullied actually. skipped all the time, which is what caused him to drop out. started smoking and sneaking out a lot, quite reckless behavior. not to be “cool” or anything, but just to feel something. he’s honestly always been alone with only a few friends who were neighbours, street thugs, or… dealers

* a funny little thing i like to think is that mista always had long curly hair that went to his neck/shoulders. around 15, he got lice and had to go bald 😭😭 and he hated it and wore a beanie all the time. which is why when we see him at 17 in his backstory, he has a buzzcut (he just decided to continue keeping his hair like that because he thought if he grew it out he’d get lice again) and that damn hat he STILL doesn’t take off (he’s insecure about his hair. i also think he was bullied for his hair BOTH when it was long and after he had to shave it. poor boy)

he left at 16 after dropping out and financial issues in his home. it wasn’t “kicking out” necessarily, his mother didn’t want to, but she couldn’t afford to keep him in the house and his sisters were already beginning to move out. his mother also got in a fight with him the night before about dropping out of school and not getting his life together, so he technically it was also his choice to “run away”. she basically implied she was kicking him out, but he decided to take on the decision for himself (like finishing off what she started i guess).

mista is now homeless. he had frequently stayed either at friend’s places or on the street (upgraded to a tent at one point). eventually, due to mutual connections, he ended up getting close with a group of people who were… up to no good, to say the least. bad, bad people. think narancia’s backstory. but they didn’t treat him badly — just got him into bad situations. lots of drugs. clubs. hookers. started smoking (don’t really think he stops until bucciarati discourages it, but he was never strict enough to make mista quit). and the classic beating up people for money (over clint eastwood. this petty mf 😭). but mista never really saw it as “bad”. he was having fun, making money, had friends, and wasn’t getting abused. in his eyes, at least.

eventually he ended up prostituting(?) himself… like, shin-from-nana style. and that’s how he got places to stay and made good money. often from older women and sometimes men. he never really saw it as “wrong” though, because he didn’t know any better. but he glorified it and thought he was the luckiest guy ever because “ooh they all think i’m mature for my age and are letting me into adult spaces! and i’m getting women! cool!” (no mista you are a victim)

* aaand now he’s 17, with a decent rental apartment. he’s not as close with the “bad” group anymore, kinda stopped being into it. didn’t leave them in bad faith tho (he’s just a chill guy like that… literally “i have no enemies”) (although let’s be real he did NOT need to be put in those situations at that age).

* and then boom ladidadida the same backstory sequence you see in the anime.

—

and if all of this was hypothetically canon, we can extrapolate so much more from his personality/character, like:

- hypersexuality due to Exposure throughout his life and especially during his teen years

- lots of insecurity… that never gets talked about because this boy REPRESSES!! doesn’t like showing vulnerability.

- mommy issues and daddy issues

- used to being independent, but DESPERATE for attention and love. but won’t accept that 🤪🤪

- not including hookups, he’s never been in an actual relationship. he’s too messyyyy and has commitment issuessss and doesn’t know what real love feels likeeee

- he’s not a suave playboy he’s a WEIRDO. an oddball. he’s a strange NEURODIVERGENT man with TRAUMA (i mean yeah, he’s a sleazy outgoing flirt, but he does NOT have game)

- he misses his family a lot. especially his mom. he regrets leaving her but he’s too afraid to come back. he doesn’t like facing reality. he’s all for blissful ignorance. a bit selfish, yeah. his family was left to assume he was dead. he wishes he got to enjoy his childhood more. although he was never really able to.

- also he had a family dog. one of his sisters took it though (he’s a dog guy, really likes animals actually. took care of the dog a lot as a kid. that’s kinda why he’s good with the pistols)

- actually like tons of untreated diagnoses holy hell

- i’m probably forgetting more rahhh

—

anyways, hope you all like it !!! idk if this is an unpopular opinion but i really do believe mista’s personality is a complicated one. i feel like everyone slightly mischaracterizes him one certain way, even if only slightly (like if he had a route in a dating sim, it’d probably be the hardest one. he’s a messy character). he’s not quite a “himbo”, but he’s not smart either. he’s flirty but he isn’t a charmer either. he’s outgoing but he isn’t a people-person either. i think that’s what makes him so interesting, he’s the most realistic character to me.

that’s honestly why he’s my favorite, he INVOKES something in me and captured my attention in such a way that i HAD to investigate him and understand him further… IK his ass is hiding so much. i’ve psychoanalyzed him so much that i’ve accepted him as an oc atp 😭🫶 can’t let him go…

feel free to share your ideas everypony!! ^_^ i’d love to hear more… (this was super long sorry)