#you cannot stop me from making up my own family traditions

[megu-meow]

family ties - gojo satoru

gojo x fem. reader

Summary: Satoru takes you to meet the in-laws.

The Gojo family members mentioned are named after the Zoldyk family, cuz Satoru is the grown-up version Killua. Argue with a wall on that one. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this one!

"Please, sweetheart! I've been begging you for four years, it's time..." Gojo implores, running after you in the hallways of Jujutsu Tech like a lost puppy.

"I told you already, Satoru, I don't want to do it. You said it was ok if I didn't because you don't care what they think anyway."

"I know, but now that I proposed to you, my family wants to see you. Especially Ojiisan, he wants to meet the woman who charmed his favorite grandson." he whines as the two of you stop in front of your classroom.

"Toru, you said it yourself, all of your clan members are obsessed with you marrying someone from the big clans. We both know they will not accept a nobody like me." you explain as you rub your forehead. It wasn't that you didn't want to meet Satoru's family, but he was the one to refuse to introduce you to them in the first place. He didn't like the way they treated outsiders and he didn't want you to experience how old-fashioned and downright disgusting their beliefs and traditions were. You were better off without ever crossing paths with them, you were sure of that. However, as soon as he proposed to you, his clan members started pushing the matter, because being Satoru's wife would mean that you would get your own responsibilities in the clan, like attending meetings representing Satoru, when he was away, you would get your own vote in different matters, and lastly, the one you refused to take into consideration, you would become clan head if Satoru would ever be unable to fulfill his duties as such. It was normal for them to wish to meet you, but that didn't make it any easier.

"You will only have to meet my mom, my dad, and my grandparents. They don't care about how you are or what powers you hold as long as you love me. They will not make you feel miserable, I promise." he looks at you with those cerulean orbs that shine like rhinestones, ones you cannot say no to.

"You pinky-promise?"

"Of course, sweetheart." he says and he shows you his pinky, waiting for you to link it with yours. And you do.

The day finally arrives, a sunny Friday in April, as the Sakura blossoms. Ijichi picked up the two of you from your shared apartment early in the morning to begin your hour-long drive to the Gojo estate in suburban Tokyo.

"So your father's name is Silva?" you ask your fiance as you observe the landscape around you.

"Yes. He's kinda scary at first glance, but he would do anything to make me happy."

"Your mom's name is Kykio, right?"

"Yes, good job sweetheart! She's a kind-hearted woman, she's gonna love you for sure."

"Okay, I think I know enough about your family tree." you sigh, you really want these people to like you. You don't exactly know why, Satoru said he doesn't care what they say, he's gonna marry you anyway, but you know he loves his parents and his grandparents. Contrary to popular belief, he grew up in a loving family, he was spoiled rotten by everyone, hence his insufferable personality. However, despite how Satoru claims his family not liking you wouldn't affect him, you know it would. These people are important to him, whether he admits it or not. So you're not going to screw this up by not knowing their given names. Or by anything else.

You get dropped off in front of a massive gate that Satoru opens with ease and you're met with a pebbled road lined with Sakura trees. They are in perfect blossom, there is a sea of pink in front of you. Satoru grabs your hand in his and starts walking down the road, leading you toward where you assume the Minka is.

"Three, two, ..." you hear Satoru count back under his nose and you look at him with confusion, but as you look back to the road ahead of you a person appears, bowing in front of your fiance.

"Gojo-san, welcome back!"

"Amane, long time no see! How are you holding up?" he asks joyfully and you remember him mentioning his name before. Amane was Satoru's best friend at the estate, his cousin on his mother's side of the family.

"I'm doing good. You didn't announce your arrival, the clan is in a meeting right now."

"I know." he smirks. He timed this perfectly and you take a note to yourself to scold him for slacking off. "By the way, this is my fiance, y/n."

"Hajimemashite, y/n-san! Welcome to the Gojo Estate."

"Nice to meet you too, Amane. Please leave the honorifics, makes me feel old."

"As you wish. Please do not hesitate to call for me if you need anything. I will make sure to prepare Gojo-san's bedroom for the two of you." Amane disappears right after finishing his sentence, you couldn't even thank him for his help.

"GOJO SATORU!" you hear a deep voice shouting from afar and you feel goosebumps covering your entire body. Whoever that voice belongs to is frightening as hell. "Not only do you not show your face to a clan meeting, but you have the audacity to not announce me about my daughter-in-law coming to meet me?" you observe the tall, muscular man in front of you as he approaches with inhumane speed. He has long, wavy hair with bangs, the color identical to Satoru's, and icy blue eyes. It is Gojo Silva, Satoru's father. The cursed energy around him has a crazy strong presence, similar to Satoru's when he lets his unleash, but this one feels rougher, slightly colder.

First, he steps to his son, yanking his left ear, which results in Satoru whining like a little kid. The whole ordeal is comical, you know that his father is just messing around. After that, he looks at his son with disapproving eyes, calls him a menace and turns towards you.

"Y/n, yoroshiku! I am Gojo Silva, Satoru's father. You can call me otousan." he bows and you return the gesture with a blush on your cheeks. Satoru giggles, enjoying his father's antics. Despite being a seemingly intimidating person, Silva seems to be just as much of a goofball as Satoru. He asks you silly questions like what is your favorite dessert, how much you can eat and whether you discipline his son when he acts like an idiot. The last one causes Satoru to chirp back at his father, claiming that he called him the other night to 'change the Google logo back to the original'. As you observe the dynamic between the two you have to remind yourself that you're in the presence of the heads of the Strongest Clan in Jujutsu history.

You finally arrive in front of the house and you are greeted by a beautiful woman with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. She looks welcoming in her flowery dress and with her wide smile. Her smile resembles Satoru's, it reaches her ears and it's vibrant, like there is nothing wrong in this world. Her cursed energy is low, even lower than yours, and you're not sure if it's because she is limiting it or if she simply doesn't have much to begin with. Her aura is stronger, it is familiar and welcoming.

"Kaachan!" Satoru exclaims as he walks up to her, embracing the petite woman in a warm hug. She pats her son on the back, her eyes sparkling with the motherly love she reserves for him.

"I'm glad you're finally home, sunshine! Please don't give your father any more headaches while you're here."

"I will not, mother!" he says curtly and he suddenly snakes his arms around your hips, bringing you close to his side "By the way, this is my fiance, y/n!" he introduces you and you bow in front of his mother politely.

"I am glad to finally meet you, Kykio-san!"

"Oh, please, sweetheart, leave the honorifics. You are family, you can call me Okaasan or whatever you prefer." she says with her warm smile.

They all walk you to the family dining room, claiming that you arrived in time for supper. You're being presented with a variety of traditional Japanese dishes and you're more than excited to try everything that you like. Satoru's parents are extremely nice and calm. They ask you questions about your family, your upbringing, about Jujutsu and your time in high school. They claim they already know about every single detail of your relationship with Satoru, apparently, you're one of his favorite topics to mention when he is back home. They tell you stories about their son, how he was while growing up, what he liked and disliked, and how much of a troublemaker he was. You listen carefully to these stories, you want to remember them, to cherish them for a long time. After you finish the dishes, they are serving desserts, a whole lot of them in different assortments.

"Satoru has got a sweet tooth his whole life. His grandmother likes to prepare all kinds of deserts, even western ones so he grew up eating a copious amount of sugar." Kykio explains.

"Y/n bakes too! She makes cookies for me all the time!"

"That's not true, Toru! I've been trying to reduce his sugar intake, so now I only bake once a week." you explain and his parents look at each other knowingly, as they start laughing. You look at Satoru in confusion, but he just shakes his head, signaling that he doesn't get it either.

"Sweetheart, Satoru has been teleporting back home every week to eat desserts from his Sobo." his mother explains and you look at your fiance in disbelief. He acts like he's innocent, smiling at you widely, mouthing 'i love you'. You roll your eyes, but mouth the words back, because otherwise he would throw a fit in front of everyone.

"Where is that grandson on mine? Always causing trouble." you hear a male voice from the hallway and a pair of footsteps. The cursed energy coming from their direction is unpaired, it exceeds Silva's, maybe not Satoru's, but it still makes you uncomfortable.

"Have some decorum, Zeno. That boy has done nothing wrong in his life." a woman's voice is heard and the male grunts in disbelief.

"Typical Sobo Gojo, she always thinks Satoru is perfect." Silva explains and he lets out an obnoxious laugh, very similar to Satoru's. Now you understand where he got it from.

The doors open and you observe the cute elderly woman and the man with hair pointing toward the ceiling on her side. What is it with Gojo men and their gravity-resistant hair?!

"Satoru, do you have any idea how long it took me to convince the clan geezers to let your lady off the hook this time?" Zeno questions and looks at his grandson with an authoritative gaze.

"I'm sorry you had to do that, Ojiisan. I promise that next time, y/n will meet them as well."

"Good! Now come here, my child. I wanna see if my grandson was telling the truth about you being the most gorgeous woman to walk on this earth." he says as he gestures for you to walk up to him. You oblige as he takes your hands into his, analyzing them carefully. "Huh, truly beautiful. Your cursed energy flows nicely and you have a lot of it. You are strong, I like that." he says, drops your hands, and walks towards the table. After that, you are greeted by his grandmother, who scolds you for trying to limit her beloved grandson's insane sugar intake. However, she compliments you on your looks and politeness.

You sit back down at the table afterward, enjoying the moment of being surrounded by the Gojo family. Despite their reputation, they are all nice people. The three generations of men keep teasing each other, grandpa Zeno is a savage, making fun of both his son and grandson, he has absolutely no mercy. They keep telling you stories about Satoru like the time his grandfather shot him in the eye with a Nerf gun despite aiming at his butt. Or the time he was playing hockey inside while his parents were out and he broke the glass on his mother's favorite painting. Luckily for him, Sobo was home and she had the glass fixed before his parents even got home.

You tell them about the time he encountered a cleaning curse and how he smelled like detergent for two weeks. Or the time he wanted to pick you flowers from the forest near Jujutsu Tech, but fell into poison ivy.

The night goes by like that, filled with laughter and family stories. Despite having your doubts about meeting Satoru's family, he observes how you fit right in. How everyone loves you and they accept you for who you are because the love you have for him is evident. As it should be. And he swears that his love for you skyrockets even more that night, despite him knowing that it's nearly impossible.

[dira333]

Take the time you need - Todoroki Shouto x Reader

Baby Series

part 4 - this plays out before Shouko's born

“Maybe Shouji could play a little with the other kids, huh? Let the grownups talk?��

Shouji has no interest in that whatsoever, hiding his whole body between Shouto’s legs, his hands curled into his pants.

“I don’t think so,” Shouto declares, “he can stay with us.”

You lower yourself down until you’re on eye level with Shouji.

“Do you want to sit with me or with Papa?”

“Papa,” Shouji decides, his voice uncharacteristically low, tugging on Shouto’s pants.

Shouto kneels down immediately, turning as he does so.

“You wanna hide in my jacket?” He asks, smiling a little when Shouji nods.

-

Now they’re sat, the prestigious Todoroki Family.

You can’t help but wonder what the headmistress thinks of you.

Surely she didn’t expect Shouji to crawl into his father's lap instead of playing with the other children. Nor did she anticipate that Shouto would stretch his expensive Armani Blazer until the boy fit inside.

Shouji is not a shy kid. He’s clingy, sure, but you don’t think that’s anything less than normal at his age. 

Him hiding like this, especially with other kids, friends to play with, just in the other room, worries you. Something’s wrong.

-

“We expect our children to come in five days a week. We allow five sick days per semester, but we rarely see them taken.”

“Why?”

She falters at Shouto’s abrupt question but catches herself quick.

“Muninka-Hoikuen prides itself in doing everything to ensure our children have what they need for a good, healthy, successful life. We focus on Hygiene and a proper diet and-”

“Why five days a week?” 

You search for Shouto’s eyes. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his arms now curled around the Shouji-sized lump inside his jacket. 

You know this look on him. There’s a trigger here and you think you already know what it is.

“Well,” Headmistress Terada’s smile is too sweet to be trusted. “We aim to prepare our children for the future. Hard work is the cornerstone of success.”

You sigh. It’s loud and drawn out and much too dramatic to be taken for real, but it does it’s job, cutting the tension if only so slightly, turning both their attentions toward you.

“Well,” you say with your politest voice. “This won’t work for us then.”

“Excuse me?”

“We cannot have Shouji out of the house for more than three mornings a week, maximum.”

“That’s not-”

“I know,” you nod. “Not traditional, I know. But who else would be more qualified to train him how to control his Quirk than his family? I don’t think you want to deal with a burning toddler, hm?”

“No, I- Well, I am sure we can-”

You get up. “I am very sorry for wasting your time,” you interrupt her before she can make you a different offer. Being able to name the Todoroki Family as one of her clients would be too good to pass up, even if she has to break her own rules for it to happen.

“Shouto?” You ask, but he’s already on his feet, a petty little smile curling around his lips. 

“Have a good day,” you bid Headmistress Terada goodbye when it becomes clear that Shouto’s not willing to do so.

She looks a little lost but does nothing to stop you when you move for the door.

-

“Shouji,” your hand finds his back even through the jacket shielding him from the outside world. “You did great in there.”

“Why?”

“Because you showed us exactly how you were feeling. We don’t want you to go to a place you don’t feel comfortable in. Not when you don’t have to.”

Shouto stops abruptly, one hand pulling you forward until he can kiss you, his lips warm and hungry despite the public place.

“Thank you,” he breathes when he lets go again, pressing his temple against yours. “Thank you.”

“You could learn something from your son,” you tease him softly. “Thank God I know by now how to read you.”

He smiles. “Hear that, Shouji? I need to learn from you.”

Shouji’s head pops out of his hiding place, hair disheveled, cheeks rosy. “I am the teacher?”

“Yes,” Shouto leans down to bite his nose. “You are the teacher.”

-

“Are you thinking about going back to work again?” Fuyumi asks before taking a sip from her tea.

“Sometimes,” you admit. 

Just on the other side of the road, you can see children playing in a park. 

You’re pretty sure Fuyumi knows Shouji is among the children, even though you don’t recall telling her which preschool you ended up choosing. 

Shouji doesn’t know you’re out here, or he’d already be begging his teachers to let him come over. Still. It’s nice to know he’s over there, having fun.

“What’s holding you back?”

“Everything, nothing.” You shrug. “We don’t really need the money. So I don’t need to be going back right now. Shouji really enjoys spending time with me and I love spending time with him. And it’s important to Shouto. To know Shouji grows up as warm and safe as he possibly can.”

Fuyumi nods slowly. “I get that. I mean, I’m only back to work because I miss work. At least Masuyo can be with her dad when I’m at work and I know these two bond over the silliest things.”

“Tell me about it,” you chuckle, setting down your cup. “Just last night Shouto spent hours creating a whole scene with Shouji’s playdough. He wouldn’t stop even after Shouji fell asleep.”

“Oh,” Fuyumi laughs. “Tell me it turned out a masterpiece.”

“Well,” you bite your lip. Shouto’s the love of your life, but he’s not an artist. “Let’s just say it’s the masterpiece of our hearts.”

-

“And then Sensei said that we should run as fast as we can and I was second fastest!”

“Really?” You swing Shouji’s hand as you walk, listening to his morning at Preschool. “That sounds amazing. Do you like running?”

“It’s okay,” he shrugs. “I really like going on the swing though.”

“Yeah, the swings are cool, right? What else did you do?”

“After we got to the park we had snack time and I ate three whole grapes. We got more but I gave the other grapes to Suzume because she loves grapes and I got apple bunnies from her.”

Shouji talks on, but you only listen with half an ear, your focus shifted at the sight in front of you.

Natsuo’s hands are pushed deep into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders pulled up to his ears. He looks uncomfortable and a little out of place, but he’s already noticed you and he’s not leaving.

“Honey,” you tug softly on Shouji’s arm to get his attention. “Look who’s here.”

Shouji blinks up at you and then down the street. He’s seen Natsuo in quite a few family photos, but it doesn’t seem to click at first, not until you point him out.

“Uncle Tsuo?” He asks. “You came back to Japan?”

Natsuo swallows thickly. “Yeah, buddy. I’m… I’m back.”

“That’s cool!” Shouji grins up at him. “Did you bring presents?”

Natsuo laughs as you gasp in surprise.

“Shouji,” you explain softly, “It’s not nice to ask for presents directly. He’d feel bad if he forgot them.”

“But how will he know he forgot them if I don’t ask?”

“I-” Natsuo interrupts, rubbing the back of his head. “I didn’t want to bring presents this time. But I have them at home.”

“Oh,” Shouji considers that for a second. “Did you forget to bring them? That’s okay. Momma often forgets stuff.”

You barely manage to hide the embarrassed snort that’s threatening to spill. Natsuo laughs though, his shoulders relaxing just a little bit.

“You wanna come in?” You ask. He’s been here before, the last time shortly after you and Shouto had gotten married. He’d apologized for not attending, apologized for his need to take another step away, to distance himself further from the family.

You’re not sure why he’s here now, but you know Shouto would hate missing him.

“Yeah,” Natsuo swallows thickly. “I’d love to.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

MHA Spoiler for Natsuo and why he hasn't been in contact with the family - read at your own risk

Somehow my brain can only work on this at the moment, so if you want any more of this series, let me know

[thedeviltohisangel]

The Road To A Beautiful Nowhere: You're Lonely In This City

a/n: I cannot believe the first part of this hit so hard in so little time! Especially because I went way less traditional on it and just leeched prose all of the tumblr bot. Thank you all immensely for loving it the way you have. This iteration is a bit more fic-y and I've named the lady in his life we met the previous time around and not sure where they are going but I am here to play around with them if you all have any little ideas or requests. This beautiful man deserves all the words written about him and thank you babes for supporting me in my journey to do so!

She doesn’t know where she was supposed to tell her parents she was going. Her jeans and dirty Keds and suede jacket not really presenting an easy excuse. If she was going to the store with friends or headed to the library to study, she would be in a frilly dress and kitten heels. Her hair would be curled and wrapped in a bow. But she couldn’t wear a dress on the back of Benny’s bike. Didn’t want to go through the effort of doing her hair just for the wind to muss it up. 

They were going to hear his bike rumbling down the road. Certainly her father was going to stare at him out the window in the hope he would break. There was no use in trying to hide who she was spending the afternoon with. Maybe even the entire night if the beer at the picnic gave her enough courage. 

The house vibrated slightly to announce his arrival. The feeling spread like joy through her bones but the wisps of dread from downstairs were fighting to make their way up to her. Delilah adjusted the clip keeping half of her hair back before squaring her shoulders and take the steps to the front door as quickly as possible. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” her mother asked from where she was knitting in the corner. 

“Benny invited me out.” Delilah paused with her hand on the front doorknob. 

“You’ll be back by 10?” There went her plans to spend the night. 

“Yes.” The quicker she agreed, the less likely she would have to face her father. The quicker she agreed, the quicker she could be in the safe haven of Benny.

Her wrist flexed back and forth as it waited for the command to turn the knob and lead her out into the sunshine. She was begging for them to just say okay. To just say yes and let her go. Not drag this out any longer. It was embarrassing enough being around Benny with the incessant blush to her cheeks and white knuckle grip on him everywhere they went. Bad enough he was legally banned from the campus of Northwestern. Had to stand outside her favorite bookstore while she perused. So many facets of their life that fought against each other instead of working together. She hated that her family dynamic was just one more obstacle for them to overcome. 

“Not a minute later.” That was her father who had deigned to speak. His words were presented flat but she knew the cold and biting meaning that was resting right behind them. Ready to snap should she misbehave. 

“Yes. I promise.” 

“Then you may go.” Delilah opened the door before either of them could change their minds and cleared the front steps in one leap before she was across the pavement, her nose landing in the spot of his neck that smelled like motor oil and cigarettes and the essence of the Stop Light. 

“I missed you, Dumpling,” he murmured into her hair, stroking his hand down the back of her head before pressing a kiss to the top of her ear.

“I missed you, too. But I’m here now. I’m all yours until ten o’clock.” Benny groaned as he held her waist steady while she swung her leg over the back of his bike. 

“That’s not nearly enough time for all the things I had planned.” His leg kicked down hard to start the bike and her heart fluttered perfectly in tune with it. Like a lion’s roar. She would never get tired of watching him spur the mechanical beast to life. Spur her own heart to life right there inside her chest.

“I guess you’ll just have to see me again,” she teased as her cheek rested against his back and he began to steer them in the direction of where the club was meeting for the day. 

“Dumpling, some day you’re gonna see me so much you’ll be sick of me.” Delilah hummed her disagreement into his colors, her lips pressed to the skull as if it was the soft skin of his forehead instead. 

How could she ever be sick of this feeling? The feeling of his bike hurtling them towards the sun like Apollo’s arrow. The feeling of everything she had ever known disappearing into a speck on the horizon. The walls that she always felt caving in, breaking open in a sea of shattered memories and haunted dreams and gates she hadn’t known she’d built around herself. 

He squeezed her hand that was around his waist as if he could hear her thoughts. It was a quick pulse of his fingers but told her he knew. Told her that he didn’t need words in order to understand. Told her he would ride like this until they reached the edge of the earth if that is what would make her happy. 

Some mornings, she thought about asking him to do just that.

----

“Delilah, tell me again what you’re studying?” She smiled as Cal settled on the ground by her feet, the smoke of his cigarette curling around his fingers and drifting into her nose. 

“I’m studying to be a nurse, Cal,” she spoke politely. He nodded his head around the sip of beer he took.

“Yeah, yeah that’s right. Real fucking cool.” She hid her giggle behind her palm and leaned further into the solid man to her right. 

“How many times do you think I’ll tell him I’m going to be a nurse before the night is over?” She’d already had the conversation with him twice, this made three. Benny peered around her to look at the taller blonde. 

“At least three more.” He flicked the butt of his cigarette into the fire they were sitting around and pulled her hand out of the pocket of her jacket. “Let’s go for a walk.” 

“Okay.” She walked in the direction he was bringing her, the whistles of the group they were leaving only earning them a finger from Benny. “You know, right now it looks like you are leading me to a secluded corner of the woods to be my undoing.” 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” he threw over his shoulder. Delilah blushed and quickened her pace so they were side by side. 

“Is that your attempt at being romantic?” she teased. 

“What girl doesn’t want a boy to lead her somewhere quiet where she can fall apart without an audience?” 

“Benny, the way you are turning my joke about murder into a lovely sentiment is quite something.” He laughed and lifted his arm for her to twirl underneath. “I would have brought a dress to wear if I had known we’d be dancing.”

“I like those little things,” Benny muttered as he ducked under a branch. 

“I can’t really straddle a bike in them without being wholly improper.” 

“Maybe we could get you some chaps or something to wear underneath. Get you on my bike and in your little dress.” The thought alone made him twitch between his legs. 

“Have you been thinking about this, Mr. Cross? Fantasizing, even?” 

“I’ve been thinking about this even more.” He squeezed her hand impossibly tight as she stepped into the meadow and looked up at the night sky. They were far enough from the beating heart of Chicago to see more stars than she’d ever imagined even existed. They glittering across the ink black expanse and Delilah swore they were whispering a song in the wind. “You like it?”

“Benny, how…how did you find this place?”

“Every once in a while at these things, I just need a moment to myself. Found it while I was wandering around a couple of weeks back.” He had thought she would like it from the moment he had found it. Had agonized over when would be the right time to show it to her. Had maybe let a little bit of doubt creep in that made him sheepish in presenting it.

“Come sit with me. I want to look at them for a minute.” She smiled and giggled to herself as she walked a few paces into the meadow and sat down, her leg stretching in front of her. Delilah contentedly looked up at the sky as Benny sank down next to her, a fresh cigarette in between his lips. 

“Makes you stop and think for a minute, doesn’t it?” he breathed as they enjoyed the scent of the smoke mixing with the night air and the comfortable silence. 

“I think all the time about a life outside of Chicago. One where stars are out like this without having to look for it.” One where she wasn’t afraid to step inside her own home. One where she was allowed to be loud and make mistakes and love whoever she wished to without fear of the repercussions. One where Benny could be right alongside her on this wild ride. 

“That sounds nice,” he replied simply. Delilah tugged her knees against her chest. It was foolish to dream of a life like that with Benny. The Vandals meant too much to him. He would never leave the club. That much was always clear as day. 

“I have to finish school first, of course, but after that…” He bristled only slightly at her notion that there was a definitive timeline to her presence with him. That she would be handed a piece of paper one day and then be nothing more than a whisper in the wind. “We could go somewhere together, Benny.” Her words were so soft they were almost a whisper. Her cheek resting on the top of her knee as she turned to look at him. 

“I can’t leave the club.” There was no room to interpret his words any differently than how he meant them. There was black and there was white. No shades of gray. 

“Right. Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Delilah found her fingers more interesting than the stars as the answer settled on her shoulders. The sustainability of what was between them, approaching love rapidly but screeching like tires on the freeway at inopportune times, might be a question a less naive girl and boy would ask themselves. 

“Dumpling-”

“No, Benny, I’m not upset. You’re being honest. How could I be upset?” It was something she thought about often. If she should push harder to put a name to the feeling in her chest when she was around him. If she should figure out a way to exist in that space, trading a life away from her parents for a life with Benny. Delilah would never ask him to choose her or the club. Her or riding. Her or anything. She wanted to be his choice without having to ask him to make one. That was the only version of a relationship she would accept. Not after the one between her parents she was forced to be a witness of her entire life. 

“I should get you back home soon.” Benny didn’t like upsetting her. Didn’t like when the fire went out between her eyes. It was so rare he was the cause of it extinguishing but it ached in a way he couldn’t put into words when he did. He stood and offered her a hand, the other flicking his cigarette to the dirt before he twisted the bottom of his boot on top of it. “We can come back here another night. When we have more time.” She nodded as she brushed some dirt off of her pants. 

“When we have more time,” she echoed. He kissed her forehead and led her back in the direction they came. Delilah couldn’t help but think, the entire walk back, that it would’ve been nice to keep walking across that meadow. Take the risk to see what was waiting on the other side. Forward and forward until they blended into the darkness. Gone to a place where things were new. Scars were healed and the thread of fate started spinning over again. 

Delilah could picture her own string of yarn waiting on the other side of that meadow. Golden and strong and untouched by the horrors this life had wrought upon her. There was room for another. Another that smelled like gasoline and cigarettes and endless summer. Durable as the denim he wore every day. 

She just needed him to see it. 

[deblklesb]

[Phantoms of Past — Abby x Reader]

[AFAB!reader, friends to lovers, Christmas themed, br!reader, angsty, MDNI]

a/n: well, is this late for Christmas? yes. but do i care? also yes bc i'm paranoid and have some need to make stuff on time, so imagine my despair when i couldn't finish this. but i ALSO know that I'm doing my best, and for that i have to pat my own back. anyway, this is for my brazilian besties out there!!!

cw: reader is brazilian, usage of phrases in pt-br with the translation after and between parenthesis, owen mentioned (this man is a cw by himself idc this is not a owen appreciated blog), mutual pinning, Abby understands portuguese and even talks some. let me know if i forgot something.

not proof read | word count: 3,274

reblogs are highly appreciated!!

While you drive through the recently cleaned streets of the neighborhood you grew up, thanking the heavens that it stopped snowing for now, the radio plays a seasonal song and your murmur along. The traffic on the main roads were chaotic, almost as congested as your uncle's arteries, but now the decorated rooftops and doorsteps replaced the headlights on your peripheral vision. In front of a house stood a snowman, or at least his body stripped of arms and face.

You park in front of a house with simple adornments and flashers around the main door, a LED deer standing next to it and a small table with fake cookies and milk on top. All the energy was so reminiscent of the years you'd spend a whole day decorating the house with your mom, mainly inside, just so your father and sister could take care of the outside. Now that you both were grown and away, the couple occupied itself with the house interior and resumed the exterior with a simple approach. It never failed to take a smile from you, though, especially seeing the way they would adhere to simple things just because it looked cute, even if it had nothing to do with their native traditions.

Coming from Brasil, for the first part of your life you had hot weather and sunny days on Christmas. Maybe a night of rain, but never snow. Fireworks and catholic mass were on the list, but your parents went just to go along with the rest of the family and friends. They weren't religious, so in the end Christmas was simply another holiday, but with presents and - as all the other holidays - a family gathering. The main difference now was that you were studying in another city, becoming one of the absent relatives; you know, the ones that mainly go home for the holidays and vacations. It wasn't bad, but they definitely missed you a lot and the feeling was mutual.

Using your key to get in, the sounds of Simone’s “Então É Natal” (“And So It Is Christmas”), a brazilian holiday song, hit you immediately. You chuckle, taking off your boots and coats. From the front corridor the ornamented tree is visible, carrying innumerous lights and details. There's probably not a single empty wall, the seasonal decoration filling every inch of your field of vision.

“There she is!” Your father shouts as you appear in the living room smiling. The man goes into your direction with open arms, holding you tight. You smell that same cologne he wears since you can remember anything, and along with the warmth of the house, it truly feels like home. Some of the tension from university and work just falls on the carpet, leaving your body to receive all the good things inside that place.

“Carlos, you'll smash our child and I cannot have another one”, your mom yells somewhere from the kitchen direction, making you laugh.

“I can get another one anywhere, Marília”, he finally lets go, an arm around your shoulders. “Won't be as nice as this one, though”

“Of course not, she's irreplaceable”, your cousin Felipe says, approaching. “Prima, você tem feito falta!” (“Cousin, you have been missed!”) He holds you sideways with an insane amount of exaggeration, taking an embarrassed chuckle from you. Felipe was a lawyer with a lot of charisma, but inside he was just your cousin that your mom liked a lot. You both used to play together growing up. “From some people, a little too much”, he whispers playfully before running away, not letting you scold him for bringing up something you were not prepared to deal with this earlier, especially when the person implied wasn't even around. Yet.

Your father doesn't seem to notice, now talking with your mom again.

“Hey, Alice”, you wave to Felipe’s wife sitting on the couch, drinking something on a Christmas themed mug.

“Hey, sweetie! How's uni?”

“Tiring”, you shrug. “How about the kids?”

Your name is once again shouted through the house, and as you turn around three kids are running into you. Camila, Jorge e Rayana hold your waist, almost making you fall with a laugh. Camila is the oldest, at five years old, but the others are at the age of three. They're simply the most precious people in that family.

“Meus pestinhas!” (“My little brats!”) You start messing their hairs and pinching their ears playfully.

“Eu perdi um dente, olha!” (“I lost a tooth, look!”) Camila smiles widely, showing the first little window on her mouth.

“Ela tá ficando banguela e feia” (“She's getting toothless and ugly”) Jorge points out, and by Camila's reaction this isn't a new saying.

“Well, that's too bad. Because you'll get toothless and ugly too, just wait a few years”, Rayana and Camila laugh as the boy pouts at your response, looking at their mom.

“Vamo, vamo, abram espaço. Preciso abraçar minha filha” (Come on, come on, clear the way. I need to hug my daughter) Your mom’s voice finally reached the living room before her arms were wrapped around your torso. It's warm and familiar, you've missed her so much.

“Oi, mãe” (“Hey, mom”)

“Você tá tão magrinha, filha. Aposto que não anda comendo direito na correria, né?” (“You're so skinny, child. I bet you haven't been eating well in all the rush, right?”) The caressing she does on your back is reassuring, and by that you can tell you're going back with bowls filled with food. “Sua irmã vai chegar só mais tarde, seu pai vai buscar ela na estação” (“Your sister will arrive just later, your father will pick her up on the station”)

“When will uncle Jerry get here? He said he would get me new crayons”, Rayana mumbles while playing with one of the numerous ornaments on the lit up tree.

You try not to react to what that phrase implies, going with your mom to the kitchen to busy your hands and your mind with something else. She would probably kick you out of there soon anyway, she never liked having other people in the kitchen with her unless very necessary. But the need to act normal, smile and not think about family friends coming over it's bigger than the prospect of being scolded out of a room.

While the conversation continues in the living room and the song plays to never leave an empty place in your audition, you hover around the place talking with your mom about the neighborhood news and her routines in the morning walks group. It's comforting to know about what's going on, even if it doesn't really affect your life.

You help her cut the bread to make rabanadas (french toasts), looking forward to finally eating them. It's one of your favorite things of this season, even though you could actually find it anywhere at any time of the year. But the memories of having a plate of those on the supper table, covered in sugar and cinnamon, it's one of your favorites. So you're dividing your attention between the chore of slicing the bread and listening to your mom speaking, when a name being yelled in the living room catches your ear and you almost cut the tip of your thumb.

It's Jorge’s voice. “Abby!”

It's a blessing your mom didn't notice it, but now you have a bigger motive to stay inside the kitchen and never leave it.

No matter how much your mother talked, or the music filled the air, or the people in the other room got into different conversations within the group; her voice seemed louder than any other thing to you. You would swear she was next to the table you had the cutting board on, chatting with the children and playing with them.

You could swear you could listen to her whispering to you about lonely nights and missing pieces of a puzzle.

“Tia!” (“Auntie!”)

Your mom stops speaking just to turn around and look into the tall woman's direction. “Abigail!” Her comforting, mothering arms hold the strong torso, and the blonde needs to be in a not very straight posture to fully embrace your mom. What could you say, hightness wasn't in your family's genes.

“One of these days you'll be able to carry me around, with how big and strong you're getting!” And they both laugh as if Abby didn't live at the end of the block and they saw each other constantly.

All the while, you're trying to avoid the upcoming, inevitable moment. Your eyes glue on the bread, but you're not really looking at it. They're talking but you can't decipher the words, just assimilate the sweet voice making your cells tremble in vibrations. Cutting another piece, and another, then another, then-

“Puta que pariu-” (“Motherfucker-”), a drop of blood falls onto the cutting board when you pull your hand away, thumb red and hurting.

“What happened?” Your mom asks, concern in her voice.

“I cut my finger”, the running water of the sink makes the wound sting when you put the finger under it, the blood keeps coming out.

“I can take care of that if you need to”, Abby says, making you look directly at her for the first time of the night.

And you have to give the lack of air to the pain. You have to, because otherwise you would be admitting that looking at her takes your breath away.

“Yeah, Abby is working as a nurse in a school now. I bet she's used to this type of thing”, Marília goes to the cutting board, taking the pieces you've cut already.

There's nowhere to run over this. What will you say, that you don't want her to take care of your wound? That you can't be next to her, orelse all the coherent thoughts in your mind will fade away, leaving room for her voice? That your fingers ache to touch her?

You look to your still bleeding finger under the open faucet, then to the tall, blonde woman again. And while your mother wasn't looking, you both had a silent conversation about something, everything. She could see the doubt in your eyes, but you could see the pleads in hers.

“Sure, I think it wouldn't be much…” You try to smile, finally turning the faucet off and grabbing a towel to wrapp around your finger.

You both go upstairs, she tells you how there was a first aid kit in the bathroom and your stomach jumps at the realization that she knew your house more than yourself probably. Looking forward at all times and trying not to pay too much attention to her careful hand touching your arm like she was guiding you around the place.

“Go to your room, I’ll take the kit”, and you don’t even look at her to see how she was looking at you. You don’t know how that hurt her, mainly because you’re trying to get out of this situation as fast as possible.

The room is just like you always leave it after the breaks, bed neatly covered and books on the shelves. Some stuffed animals that you couldn’t bear to donate were aligned on a shelf next to a poster of a band you liked, the black and red contrasting with the creamy colors of a small giraffe. You saw the table where once you were pressed against, the lamp giving a soft light on the room as you felt a pair of lips so close to yours after all those years of yearning and silent pining.

“Okay, let’s give this a look” she was back using that voice, the one for the workplace. Tender, but firm; like she was trying to be secure, but reassuring.

Abby pulled the chair next to the table so she could sit in front of you, her knees together between your separated legs as she carefully took your hand and unwrapped the towel. Crimson drops started to flow down your finger, and the blonde woman never took the blue eyes away from the cut.

The distance wasn’t enough. Her scent would haunt the bedroom all night, making you dream about her just like it happened before, during your late school years, when she came to spend the day and left you numb and daydreaming. Her touches were so gentle, featherlight.

“It wasn't that bad, we can handle it”, she muttered like she was talking to one of the students from the school she worked at. “So, how's college?”

“It's okay, I guess”, with eyes glued on your own hand, you tried not to notice her thighs too much. “I've been working my ass off to write a paper while keeping up with classes and the monitoring thing”

“You'll get this, I'm sure”, you looked up just in time to see a smirk on her lips, but then returned to look down again before being trapped on that hypnotizing expression. “After all, you've always been very good with your words”

“It was easier in school, though”

“It always is”, she cuts the bandage before wrapping your finger with it. “But that's the thing, right? We start to realize how school was maybe easier, but then again, would you rather be back?”

“Oh, fuck no”, you chuckle as she finishes the curative. “I wouldn't change this for that”

“Yeah”, you finally look up more confident, meeting her indescribable expression. “I would change some things, actually”

“Like what?” You're just keeping the conversation, just trying to let it flow well enough for it to be bearable. You surely weren't expecting the next phrase.

“I wouldn't have dated Owen”, she sighs.

Owen was Abby's boyfriend. They started dating in the last year of school, and looked very much in love, for your displeasing. He wasn't a bad guy per se, but the fact that you already had a crush on Abby made you think that your feelings towards him were totally based on jealousy. So every single thing you had to say about him would be shoved down your throat immediately, and you'd just smile and nod to your friend anytime she mentioned him. You told her he was nice - couldn't bring yourself to say more than that - and supported their relationship with the most painful role in that whole story: the best friend with an unrequited crush.

By fall you found out she and Owen had broken up. Right after…

“Why is that?” Her eyes wander from the quilt to your hands, then back to your face. They were so beautiful, you could spend the rest of the night admiring them. Or the way her hair would fall around her face with soft lines, how her freckles were so attractive to the touch, especially on her arms.

“Don't think I was really into him… At least not in the right way”, Abby was the one not looking at you now, almost more interested in putting the stuff back on the kit box. “I could've been honest with him… And with you”

“Abby-”

“That's fine…” She shrugged. “He was a little bit of a dumbass anyway”

Silence falls around you both, filling the room with an emptiness.

The image of them both in your living room, last Christmas, haunts your mind as soon as you remember how you knew nothing and was too caught up in your own thoughts at the time. The way she laughed at his jokes, making your stomach turn as you smiled politely. Or how you saw them kissing next to the coat holder by the front door, and all the food you ate wanted to come back in awful bitterness.

You never told anyone. Never said a word, as always, rather keeping the green feeling on the back of your mind in order to not do something stupid - like being rude or start crying.

But then, you came home for the summer break. You dad was making barbecues in the backyard, you mom decorated the house with all the stuff your cousin brought from Brasil on his last trip, and you'd listen to pagode in the living room while the kids were playing and running, waiting for the meat to be properly roasted so they could finally eat.

Internally, you were ready to deal with that same gut-rotting feeling all over again. The plan was to sustain the fake expression until the time allowed you to pull the tiredness card on everyone and go to your room to watch some old telenovela.

Abby showed up alone, greeting everyone as usual. And when she looked at you, you could swear that was something in her eyes that could make you shiver. How she took your figure in before hugging you, how she held you so tight and for a little bit longer. How she was always trying to be next to you. You couldn't decipher, though, and the whole day went by mixing the confusion of her being without Owen and not even mentioning his name, and the rush of being that close to her again.

That night, in your room, she kissed you. Right there, where you were sitting now, she held your face between your hands and your skin shivered, while her lips touched yours.

You waited for years. Kissing her was probably one of the only things you wanted to do every time she was around, flesh craving hers. And it finally happened… But she had a boyfriend.

So you never talked about it again. You went back to college and texted her less and less.

“Abby, Abby, Abby!” A childish voice came from the corridor, the door opened to show Rayana. “Come here, I need your help to defeat Jorge and papai” (dad)

“Okay, I'll be there in a second!” The blonde smiled before the girl ran back downstairs. “Well, it seems like a have a duty”

“Can't let her down, she'll never forgive you”, you both chuckled while she got out of the room, first to leave the kit back in the bathroom and then to go to the living room again.

Sighing, you laid back on the mattress. Just like that summer night, you were alone in your room trying to collect your feelings about an interaction with Abby. Heart beating fast and a familiar warmth on your chest, wanting to curse every single entity for putting you in this position.

You came down maybe 15 minutes later, mask back on to decorate your face with a smile. You saw the tall woman on the mat with the younger children on top of her, attacking her while laughs filled the place.

“Okay, okay, saiam de cima da Abigail” (“Get off of Abigail”) Your mom didn't have to say it twice before they were sitting next to her. “Abigail, I need a favor. Remember that bowl I lent to you last week?”

“Sure”, her arms seemed stronger now that she was supporting herself on the elbows. Why was she so gorgeous?

“I need you to get it for me, darling”

“Okay, I got it”, Abby got up and immediately went grabbing her coat again.

And you were about to go back to the kitchen to make yourself useful, but it couldn't be that easy.

“Filha, vai com ela. Está nevando bastante, não é bom dirigir sozinha nesse tempo” (“Daughter, go with her. It's snowing a lot, it isn't good to drive alone in the weather”)

“Oh, it's not necessary-” She really tried, but your mom wouldn't take a negative answer.

“I'm not asking, you won't go alone!”

You nod and start putting on heavy clothes. It was okay, all good. You both would get in the house, grab the bowl, and get back in no time. It would be fine.

[dividers by @cafekitsune]

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

What do you think of Grrm's portrayal of religion?

Hi anon, this is a really interesting question, and it took me awhile to put together what I hope is a coherent answer.

For context, I think GRRM's background is important to keep in mind. George is almost exactly my parents' age and belongs to the same demographic of American anti-war ex hippies who aged into broadly liberal baby-boomers. Their radicalism has largely mellowed over the years, they may not be the most up to date on the appropriate terminology, and they tend to prioritize nonviolent solutions to systemic problems (my mom often tells me the younger generation needs to do another March on Washington). One thing liberal boomers also tend have in common is that often they grew up religious but, as they entered their 20s and went to college, broke away from the churches of their childhood. My family is full of ex-Catholic liberal boomers like George. They might have dabbled in Buddhism or Hinduism in the 70s, New Age mysticism in the 80s or 90s, and ended up settling into statements like, "I'm spiritual, but not religious." Almost invariably, they have a sort of disdain for organized religion, which they associate with a kind of yokel mentality, a place for anti-Choice anti-LGBTQ traditionalists. Although they will profess "to each his own," to the average liberal boomer, the church represents regressive values and they cannot imagine why anyone would willingly return to it. Even those who did remain religious take great pains to make it known they are not like those Christians. And to be fair, liberal boomers have a good reason to feel this way. The churches of their childhoods were not fun places for people whose own ideas and values went against post-WW2 broadly white middle class values. Unsurprisingly, SFF authors tend to fit into this category.

And this sort of bleeds into a lot of 90s SFF. You see a lot of worlds that have religion, but rarely do you have characters that are religious, and even more rarely do you have sympathetic young protagonists who are religious. You might have the occasional kindly priest or nun type, but far more often these characters will be abusive, mean spirited, or narrow minded (think of Brienne's childhood septas). Religion is often treated with the same disdain by in-world characters as it is by the authors themselves. You might even have worlds that are almost entirely secular, with vague references to "The Gods," but without any real religious traditions constructed around them (Robin Hobb's Realm of the Elderlings series, which features two vague dieties, Eda and El, who seem to have no religious traditions surrounding them whatsoever). You might have cultish religions that are actively dangerous and must be stopped, or you might have Catholic church analogues, existing in opposition to everything cool and fun. Protagonists tend to be cynical non-believer types, or they might start off as true believers and lose their religion along the way. Rarely are they allowed to have sincere and abiding faith.

And you can see a lot of this in George's writing, in the way he portrays the Faith of the Seven and other religions, and the way the fandom receives them. The Faith of the Seven is Westeros' answer to the Catholic church, but there are also the Old Gods, the faith of R'hllor, and others, often presented in opposition to each other. George himself sees religion as a divisive force, and in ASOIAF, we see religions in conflict with each other, we see them weaponized to fuel vendettas, we see them used to drive prophesies and start wars. There's a clip somewhere, of George at a panel, where he's talking about religious conflict and his take is very reminiscent of George Carlin's-- you can tell he knows the bit. "Are you really going to kill all of these people because a giant invisible guy in the sky told you too? And your giant guy in the sky is different?" George asks, receiving a round of applause from the crowd. It's a very modern view on religion, which is fair, I think. He's writing for a modern audience who have modern conceptions of the church, and he is making a deliberate point about the harm religion can do. .

What I do think is missing, or at least downplayed, are the ways in which the medieval church was really a driving cultural and social force in medieval Europe. We live in a secular society, so we have the luxury of disregarding the church in a way that medieval people did not. This is one major way in which the worldbuilding of ASOIAF departs from the real world middle ages. To portray the medieval church as a primarily regressive institution that mostly drove conflict is too simplistic. The Catholic church is what culturally unified most of western Europe into what was known as "Christendom." The clergy served political functions, such as providing an important check upon the power of medieval kings, and when the power of the church declined, despotism grew. Socially, for most western Europeans, the church was also the center of day to day life. Insofar as medieval peasants had any opportunities for leisure time and celebrations, most of these revolved around the church. The church was for centuries a driving force behind art, music, literature, and architecture, and it also performed important social functions, such as operating poorhouses and leper-houses, and providing educations for children.

And all of this was just extremely normal. Most people prayed multiple times each day, and sincerely believed in heaven a hell. The state of one's soul after death was such a real concern that the sale of indulgences-- a way that you could pay to get your dead loved ones whose souls were in purgatory into heaven more quickly-- became a major racket for the Church. I've seen the HotD fandom react to Alicent Hightower's level of devotion calling her a religious "fanatic" and I cannot stress enough how absolutely normal Alicent would have been in medieval times. This is where I blame the framing of the show more than George, because it does set Alicent's faith in opposition to Rhaenyra's seemingly more modern values, but does it in a selective way. For instance, Alicent comes off as prudish, and modern audiences hate a prude, but we never see how her faith would have certainly inspired her, as queen, to take other more progressive actions such as giving alms to the poor or bestowing her patronage upon motherhouses. In another post about the fandom perception of Valyrian culture, I talked about how this modern view of devout belief, particularly Catholicism, tends to cast anything that is presented in opposition to it as an unequivocal good, and I see this sort of rhetoric slung around the fandom a lot, "why would you defend the pseudo-Catholics who hate women??" But the pseudo-Catholics are really just normal medieval people, and they didn't hate women, they simply lived in a patriarchal society and the material conditions did not yet exist which would allow them to challenge that in any meaningful way.

[adoristsposts]

false god | nico hischier

author's note; obsessed w that false god edit of him on tiktok by zegraser like i cannot stop watching it summary; christmas has a set-in-stone tradition: going to mass with your grandfather. but this year you and your boyfriend are coming up with your own traditions. word count; 0.9k warnings; reader isn't religious but her grandpa sure is! characters; Reader x Nico Hischier

When you agreed to spend Christmas with Nico's family in Switzerland, you had no idea the uproar it would cause. Namely with your grandfather. The man was so old that he could rival Mr. Magoo for senile shenanigans. You loved him, but the absolute offence he took to your missing Christmas mass was shocking. "You're breaking the old man's heart." Your mother joked. Your father mumbled something about how in all his years of living, he had never been able to escape his father's demands to go to mass. But being in a different country seemed like a great excuse.

"Baby, you ready?" Nico asked, poking his head into the room. "Yeah. I gotta go, guys. Tell Papa I love him." Your mother grimaced. "He says he's not talking to you right now. But he loves you too." You laughed and told your parents you loved them before hanging up the phone. "Okay. I think I'm ready." "It's not that big a deal," Nico told you for the millionth time. His mother had put the two of you in charge of making the Zimtsterne and Mailänderli. Nico had gone on and on about the importance of making Christmas cookies every year in Switzerland. Now you were a part of the tradition and you were determined to prove yourself. "It is to me, Neeks." You got up and kissed his nose. "Need to get it right so we can make them next year." He smiled and flashed those obnoxiously gorgeous dimples at you. "Fine." He sighed, even though the simple mention of there being a next year for the two of you had his heart fluttering.

You had missed Santa's visit that brought nuts and mandarins, which Nico joked he was devastated about. His two older siblings had already eaten the cookies and chocolates he had brought. He was showing them to you now, as you waited for the cookies to bake. "Nuts and mandarins?" You asked, scrunching your nose up. He laughed, "Not a fan?" "Of nuts, no. I've never had a mandarin." "Try one." He offered, handing one to you. You pursed your lips. "What?" "I feel like we need to do something fun with this." You admitted. "I'm missing my traditions. Let's come up with something new." "I have an idea," Nico said. He took the mandarin from your hands and peeled it open. Expertly, he pulled out two slices and set the rest on the table. "Come on, don't want to give my mother a heart attack." He laced his hand in yours and pulled you into your room. "Nico," You laughed, "What on Earth are we about to do?" He stood facing you and grabbed your other hand lightly, careful not to crush the slices. "We," He took a deep breath like he was preparing, "Are going to put a slice in each of our mouths. And we are going to bite down. And whoever's sprays the most juice gets to eat the chocolate from the advent calendar." "Oh you're on, Hischier." You said, even though it would be all luck. He pulled his hand out of yours and opened it to you, letting you pick your slice. You pursed your lips and pretended you were thinking. In all reality, you didn't really know which one to choose. "This one." You grabbed the one on the left. Nico hummed like he was sure you had made the wrong decision. Both of you placed the slices in your teeth. The juice sprayed a little when you bit down and dripped down onto your chin. You couldn't help your laughter as you watched Nico's do the same. You swallowed what was left of your mandarin slice and wiped the juice off your face. "I think mine was definitely juicier." You reached up to cup his face. "Oh really?" He said. You just hummed against his lips as you pulled him into a kiss. You had to admit, this new tradition was a lot better than listening to some priest preach for hours about things you didn't fully understand.

Later, you and all the Hischiers were still bundled up in your warm clothes from your walk when Nico's mom happily exclaimed, "You should light the Adventskranz!" And you had no clue what she was talking about. "The candles." Nico's older sister laughed, "We light one a week. Usually, we let Neeks do this one, but we like you more." "Hey!" Nico protested at his sister's teasing jab. He wrapped and arm around you and you leaned against his chest. "I'd be happy to." You told them. You weren't sure if the flush of your cheeks was from the warmth of the house or the absolute joy as you felt yourself slotting into their family activities.

That night Nico traced patterns on your hip. He was propped up on his elbow, watching his finger drawing elaborate swirls as you studied his features. "I love it here." You finally told him. His eyes lit up as he looked at you. "Really?" He said excitedly. "Really. It was worth my grandpa's wrath." He laughed at that. "Tell Papa it's my fault." You waved a hand in the air dismissively, "Please, he loves you." "I'm glad." He dropped his head to nuzzle into your neck. "I'm going to marry you someday." You couldn't stop your grin. "Oh, really?" "Yes." He pulled his face up. His hair was falling every which way and you adored it. You adored him. "Just don't propose on Christmas." "Why not? Overdone?" He asked. "No," You said, "My grandpa will never forgive me for taking attention away from Christmas mass."

[sunnyy3d]

All I Want for Christmas is You|

Thomas Thorne x Reader

A/N: I wrote this incredibly late (like I’m posting it at 12:30 Christmas morning) so I hope you enjoy it, and it doesn’t suck… I also had to try and post this at least three different times, so that’s great. Anyways, merry Christmas! Requests open!

"Wake up, it is Christmas!" Thomas gently shakes me awake. I open my eyes to see his bright smile above me. I love waking up beside him every morning, even if we are dead. "Oh, I cannot wait for you to see your gift," he states as he ushers me out of the bed. Thankfully, I am already fully dressed, so I can go straight to the family room where everyone will be waiting.

Usually, I dread the upcoming holidays. There's not much that you can do as a ghost. There's no Christmas dinner, gifts, Christmas crackers, or anything of the sort. The most you can do is participate in one of Pat's games or talks. But that all changed when Allison showed up. She helped us start to enjoy Christmas again. Before Allison, the ghosts and I would just hand out and play some of Pat's games. And then after, Thomas and I would do something special together.

Because of Allison, we've been able to do much more for Christmas. Allison can help with gifts, and we can do more traditions than just Pat's made-up games. I mean, no hate to Pat, but after so many years, you just yearn for more.

This year, I've asked Allison to hang up some mistletoe that I can go under with Thomas. It may seem small and insignificant, but Thomas has always loved the mistletoe tradition and has been begging Allison to put some up around the house.

Before we reach the family room, I let Thomas know I plan to give him his gift in private. His eyebrows raise in shock, and he lets out a tiny "oh." I laugh as he clearly interprets my words in his own way, but don't correct him as we've already reached the family room.

After everyone has exchanged their gifts, I finally get to open Thomas'. Well, Allison gets to. At this moment, Thomas tells me that he actually wrote a poem that he will recite to me.

Thomas starts his poem with great emotion, "I don't want a lot for Christmas. There is just one thing I need. I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree. I just want you for my own, more than you can ever know. Make my wish come true; all I want for Christmas is you."

My smile falters as I recognize his poem from somewhere else. This isn't the first time this has happened, and I know that Thomas will be devastated when he finds out that he has given me a plagiarized piece.

Luckily, I don't need to be the one to break it to him, as Allison has already started. "Thomas, that's 'All I Want for Christmas is You,' by Mariah Carrey..." Mike starts laughing but quickly stops when Allison glares at him. He can't see me, but I am also glaring at him. Thomas will already be upset; there is no need to make it worse.

Thomas is quick to break down. "Oh no! I have done it again. Please send my most sincere apologies to Mrs. Carrey. I did not mean to steal her beautiful work. My dear, I am so so sorry. I did not intentionally give you stolen work, I swear!" he sobs.

"Oh, Thomas, dear, it is okay! You did not mean to. I promise that I don't see you any differently now. You are still a great poet. It happens to the best." I pull him into my arms, shushing him and rubbing his back. "Here, why don't we go get your gift," I whisper.

I stand and dust my clothes off, even though I know nothing is on them. I hold out my hand as an offer to help Thomas up. He gladly takes in, and I pull him up. Now standing, I start to lead him to the mistletoe. I asked Allison to place the mistletoe at an arbor near the lake. Thomas and I love to sit and watch the waves together, so I thought it would be the perfect place to give him his gift.

When we finally reach the arbor, I lead him directly under it. I smile at him as I take both of his hands in mine. His eyebrows scrunch in confusion, and I only look up, prompting him to do the same. Noticing the mistletoe, he looks down at me with a huge smile.

I nod at him, encouraging him to follow the tradition. Quickly, he lets go of one of my hands, instead cupping my cheek with it. His lips crash onto mine. He passionately kisses me like he has been dying to.

He breaks from the kiss after a minute but still holds my face. "Thank you. You know that I have been begging Allison to put some up. And I truly am sorry about the poem. I shall write you another poem-original this time- in order to correctly express my love for you,” he promises with a tight lipped smile.

“It's okay, my love. It's the thought that counts. I would love anything you give me, especially if it is another kiss," I reassure him. His smile widens, but I don't get to look at it for long as he quickly pulls me back into a passionate kiss.

[hauntedwitch04]

Leaves

Andrew Garfield x reader

Words: 0.7k words

Warnings: none, just fluff and idiots totally in love with each other

Author’s note: Hi everybody! Sorry to be this late, life is just being crazy right now.

Requests are open I Ask

My masterlist

Join the Taglist

Buy me a coffee - Patreon submission

🎃Halloween party 🎃

DAY 6: “I got some leaves on my way here for you, they are really pretty”

Ever since I was little, I have always collected leaves in the fall. It sounds kind of sociopathic, but my mother and I and then with my sisters, for as long as I can remember we have collected the strangest and most beautiful leaves that we found on our walks in the park during the fall.

Although I am no longer a child, I wanted to keep this tradition alive because it makes me feel closer to my family members who now live far away from me.

When I told my fiancé, Andrew, I thought he would think I was crazy instead he told me it was one of the sweetest things he had ever heard and asked if he could participate in this tradition as well, understanding perfectly well if I didn't want to because it was a very personal thing. I had not been able to help but throw myself at his neck, saying that I would love to share that thing with him, because after all for me and for my whole family it was now part of us, but until today he had never done anything to help me with my collection.

I am baking another pan of cookies, to the tunes of "Nightmare before Christmas," when I hear the front door open and close.

"Hello love!" I hear Andrew shout as he hangs up his jacket and takes off his shoes. "The cold weather has finally started!" He says sarcastically as he enters the kitchen, knowing that I was waiting for nothing more, as I hate heat and summer, while loving to death autumn and the cold it brings. In response I tongues at him as I keep humming the songs and then remember what I was supposed to tell him.

"Althea called me, you know about the surprise party for Iara's birthday, and she told me that it will be around three o'clock in the afternoon on Sunday, but that if we want to get there the night before she has a free room." I tell him, while I am still intent on checking the cookies that I am now taking out of the oven to make sure they are ready. I see him go wide-eyed and run off, and immediately I cannot understand his reaction so abruptly to what I have said.

After a few minutes I see him come back with a book, which he rests on the table. I open it and he proudly shows me a bright red leaf, with a few hints of orange, that seems to be almost heart-shaped.

I feel my heart melt inside my rib cage, seeing with how much love and dedication he is showing me what he has found, and I refrain from kissing him there his moment.

"I got some leaves on my way here for you, they are really pretty. This is my favorite, though. Do you like it?" He asks looking at me with those puppy-dog eyes of his, and I can no longer stop myself from leaving a sweet kiss on his lips. He is caught a little off guard, only to immediately return that gesture of affection from me.

"So am I to take it to mean that you liked it?" He says once we break away, giving me that sly little smile that I so badly want to wipe off with a slap.

"I would say yes, in fact I would say he deserves to have his own frame and a place on the fireplace." I reply, before going to get a photo frame, where there is already a picture of us in a park taken by one of our closest friends. I open the frame and place the leaf next to our figures, and close it all up, before putting it back on the fireplace where it was before. We both stay staring at that frame for what seems like hours, him with his arms around my waist and his chest against my back, while I keep my hands on his, hugging a little and enjoying the perfume he is wearing, which I gave him last Christmas. We don't say a word, but there is no need because we can both feel each other's happiness.

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 48: Vulnerable

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

(Warning: mention of nudity)

The next day brings more clouds and a chilly cold snap. I will say it’s interesting to see the neighboring families celebrate their Boxing Day traditions through the window. The Shelbys must not do so much, either that or their festivities have been canceled due to John’s untimely death. And to top it off, Liam graces me with another phone call. This time with bad news from our side of the pond.

“Oh my God.”

Thomas, having just woken up, pokes his head out of his room. “What is it?”

One thing my eyes have to notice is his bare neck. Is he completely bare? Do not stare. Do not stare. There are far more important matters at hand.

“I just got off the phone with my broer Liam. There’s been an attack at home. You’ve heard of the White Hand? The gang Uncle Colon’s involved with?”

“Yeah.”

“The story goes that Wild Bill Lovett, their leader, was replaced by his brother-in-law Richard ‘Peg Leg’ Lonergan. After he took over, the gang’s become a shell of what it used to be. Far less organized.” Thomas gets the point so I stop rambling. “Anyways, back in Brooklyn there’s a popular joint called the Adonis Social Club. Last night Peg Leg showed up drunk and the Italians didn’t take it well. There was a gunfight. Now they’ve taken the waterfront.”

If this keeps up, Uncle Colon won’t be able to use Brooklyn's hidden trading port. Which means vader will have to import liquor from someplace in Canada where alcohol is legal.

However, Thomas’ first question is not about business. “Did you know anyone who was killed?”

I have to replay his words again and nod. “Joseph Howard. Or as he was known, ‘Ragtime Joe Howard.’ My family didn’t mind if I hung around the Italian neighborhood as long as there were no mafia members around. Joseph and I were friends as kids but he wanted more of the mob life.”

Thomas wants to come closer but is still indecent to do so. His head vanishes for a split second and he returns with a bathrobe draping his toned frame. Moeder would be furious if she were to know I was this close to an improperly dressed man. But my mind looks beyond the giddy thoughts of a teenager and instead stresses further about my family back home.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Thomas says softly. There is far too much death in this life.

I have to squeeze my eyes shut to keep from bursting into anxious tears. “‘S not just that. Capone has always hated the Irish mob. Even though we’re not officially part of it, my family is still at risk. When he sees my connection to your vendetta, my family is going to have a hit put on them. Every one of us.”

Thomas grabs my clenched hands and waits until I look up with teary eyes to speak.

“If I could I’d send people to go protect them. I know you want to be with them, Verena. If I were you I’d want to be with my family too. But it’s still too dangerous. Like you said, the mafia will notice you’re involved with our family. It’s safer for everyone if we all stick together. If Changretta ever makes contact I swear I will speak to him about your family.”

My eyes widen. “That could make things worse! If they know you value my family then they might do the same thing they plan to do to yours.”

Thomas lets out a sharp sigh. “Let’s just worry about one thing at a time, love. The meeting’s in half an hour, maybe our questions can be solved through that. Just be patient with me, eh?”

I swallow heavily and nod to show I understand. Thomas nods in return, slowly releases my hands, and walks back to his room. No words can describe how conflicted I am. I came here to mend bridges and instead this vendetta keeps burning them. As much as part of me wants to help Thomas and be with the others while they mourn John, I cannot ignore the calling of my own family. Liam sounded so worried. No, my life is not worth all of theirs. But if being tied to the Shelbys is going to pin them to a death threat then how am I supposed to bargain my life?

“Veena!” Charlie sprints into the hall. “Can we hide and seek again?”

I hastily wipe away my unshed tears and force a smile. “I thought you’d have figured out all the hiding places by now, Charlie.”

“No! I’ve still got ideas.”

I follow him to the parlor and take a seat on the sofa. “Alright, then. I’ll start counting.”

Charlie shakes his head. “That’s okay. You can hide first. One. Two. Three…”

Oh! He’s not giving me a head start. I dash out of the room and start to rack my brain for a place to hide. Unlike Charlie I do not have the advantage of being able to squeeze into such small spaces. My best places have been on high shelves and underneath folded bedding in closets. 

I carefully tiptoe to Thomas’ room. Is he still in the bathroom? Would he mind if I popped in to hide? Surely Charlie will discover me here in a matter of minutes so there shouldn’t be any harm. 

“Here I come!”

No time to wait! I quietly turn the doorknob and sneak into the dimly lit room. In the corner I spot a large armchair that’s the perfect size to hide behind-

Then I hear the sound of water. Why is there water here-? Oh my God.

Thomas is in here. Lying in a tub, smoking a cigarette, staring at the ceiling. Completely bare. 

He obviously saw me come in but raises no alarm to my intrusion. Or the fact that I’ve disturbed him in such a state.

My face turns bright pink but the absence of light does well to hide my shock. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry- I’m just- It’s my turn to hide, and-”

“‘S alright,” Thomas replies nonchalantly and takes a puff on his cigarette. How is he so calm?! “Not the first person to see me.”

Yes. See him. All of him. This is the first time my virgin eyes have seen a man who is not part of my family. As a logical person, I can see how Thomas’ toned figure can cause him to be intimidating and ready for a fight. As a curious woman, I cannot stop the natural reaction that I’m certain all women have from Thomas. It’s no wonder why he’s so cocky- figuratively and literally. Half of me wants to look away shamefully while the other half wants to memorize this vulnerable moment in great detail. His eyes still hold the burdens of ten men. 

What intrigues me most are his tattoos. The dark markings stand out against his pale, wet skin. The only person I know of in my family who has one is Uncle Colon. A Celtic cross on his wrist, similar to the one on my pendant. The idea of tattoos is completely obscure from the rest of my family. I almost want to ask if each of Thomas’ tattoos have a special meaning.

But my mind is far too flustered and embarrassed to think of anything other than immediately getting out of here.

“Right. Um- I’ll just go hide somewhere else-”

“Found you!”

Charlie’s sudden entrance startles me and I nearly tumble backwards into the dresser. The small boy laughs at my clumsiness but then lets out a big yawn.

“Did you wake up too early?” I ask in a pointed tone, putting my hands on my hips and trying to forget my embarrassment.

Charlie gets a sheepish look. “I couldn’t sleep.”

I glance back at Thomas, who gives me a look that says Charlie is at the age when he has no normal sleep schedule. No wonder Thomas has been stressed from little sleep too.

“Well then, how about you take a nap while your daddy and I go to a meeting in the parlor?” I usher him to the creaky bed and start to tuck him in, despite his look of protest. “Trust me Charlie, it’s going to be so dull. So much talking.”

He scrunches his nose at the thought and yawns again. Within a few minutes Charlie’s already fallen asleep.

Knock knock. 

Lord, now who is it?

“Tommy,” Michael’s muffled voice comes from the other side of the door. “They’ve gathered.”

This is happening so soon. Thomas doesn’t give any verbal reply. He just sighs and takes a drink, eyes still on the ceiling. I think I’m slowly growing used to seeing him without clothes.

I approach from behind. “Would you like me to go out first? Try to calm the approaching storm?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Thomas mutters and finally looks up to see the concern painted on my face, a trait he matches with his own. “Thank you for being here. You’re not family but you're still here.”

“John reminded me of my own broers. I grieve for him too.” Thomas starts to get up and I turn my head to offer privacy; although he clearly pays no thought to that. Something else I notice is that he has nothing laid out to wear. “Would you like a robe?”

At first I think Thomas will take advantage of the situation to mock my modest character or reprimand me for not knocking earlier. Instead of being stunned or ashamed he walks around with a stance that says he doesn’t mind being clothless. Almost as if he’s daring me to look at him. Deep down I feel grateful for the unspoken trust he's placed in me. Not only to see him like this but to also accept his fear of facing his family.

“A towel, please,” Thomas requests kindly, as if asking for a cup of tea.

Makes sense. I’ve already seen him. Why cover up now?

@meadows5

[yzeltia]

FFXIVwrite2024 8. Wedding Vows

Characters: U'rahn Nuhn, Postmoogle Expansion: Endwalker(Timeline Wise, Otherwise Irrelvant) Rating: G Summary: U'rahn practices for his big day with his biggest antagonist. Notes: Freeday prompt given to me by @beyond-mortal-limits *Based on Shakespeare's Sonnet 18 **Based on George Michael's Father Figure

“Alright! Have we started? Now remember, only write the stuff down that I’m saying for the vows. You don’t have to write it all down…you better not be writing this down…Augh. Anyway. My Vows….My vows….Let’s try:

“Nyx, I’ve loved you since you first took your hand and led you to go do all the stuff Zoissette didn’t want me to do with me…-

“Yes it was a date for someone else? Why? What do you mean that’s lame. Don’t you kupo at me! I’m paying you to write stuff not give me dating advice! Let’s try again. …Maybe traditional?”

“I, U’rahn Nuhn, take you, Nyx Blackmoon, for my eternally bonded spouse, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do…well, until death do I part. I will love and enrich you all the days of my life.

“How’s that? What do you mean ‘lame, kupo?’!? It’s traditional! …Okay …Nyx is not a traditional bride but that doesn’t matter cause they’re going to be the most beautiful and special brrride there’s ever been. Don’t ‘Sure, kupo!’ at me! It’s trrrue! But you’re right…Nyx loves me for my orrriginality and that I enrrrich them…Maybe poetry? I can be poetic! Urianger taught me sonnets after Nyx taught me Haiku!!…Can too! Oh yeah!?

“Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s Night?

Thou art more um…lovely and temperature

Rough winds do shake my darling buddies in May

And Summer’s heat hath all too short a date,

Sometimes too hot the eye of Nidhogg shines

And often is gold and complex and I’m dimmed,

And every faerie from faerie sometimes decides

By chance of nature’s changing course to their whim…d

But thy eternal Summer shall not fade

Nor lose possession of thou wanderer’s shade

When in eternal bonds to time thou grow’st

So long as Nuhn can breathe or eyes can see

So long lives this one, and he gives his life to thee-* Stop laughing!

“I swear, moogles are nothing but trouble. That was really good! Yes, I recited it perfectly from the book that Urianger gave me! No I didn’t guess! Just keep your comments to yourself and help write down my vows or I’ll feed you to a sandworm!

“Now…if poems won’t work. How about a song:

“That's all you wanted

Something special, someone enriching 

In your life-

Just for one moment

To be warm and naked

At my side-

Sometimes I think that you'll never

Understand me 

But something tells me together

We'd be happy, oh-oh, baby

I will be your Nuhn figure

Put your tiny hand in mine 

I will be your preacher teacher

Anything you have in mind-”**

“What? That off key? …Yeah, I’m not very good. Maybe if I asked Big Bro Erick or Big Bro Thancred to back me up in the vocals? No? Yeah…no. I can even admit I’m not the best singer. Alright. Fine…What do you think I should do? … … … Ah…I can try that…:

“Nyx…When I’m around you I feel invincible…Not like my normal invincibility, but like, y’know, that I could do anything and everything I put my mind to. Even the stuff that I’m super bad at. I know I’m not the smartest or wisest guy out there but you never hold that against me and when I meet something that I can’t overcome, you let me try until I ask for help. You never judge me or put me down. I feel so seen and loved around you. 

“And…well, it’s no secret my family is super important to me. You’ve fit right in with us in your own Nyx way. I know that if something ever happened to me, you’d be there to watch over them where I cannot. I named my first daughter after you ‘cause I don’t know anyone more strong and beautiful that I would want her to look up to. 

 “So uh, what I’m trying to say is that I’ll always love you…And I promise, as long as I draw breath, to keep enriching you and making every day be filled with new, fun experiences when we are together.

“Why are you crying? Me? I’m not crying? I just got stuff in my eye! It was good though wasn’t it? Let’s stick with that version….C’mon, I’ll get you a kuponut.”

[faejilly]

i absolutely love your sh meta so i was wondering what are your thoughts on Alec’d relationship with his sexuality bc i always sort of read it as him knowing that he was gay but absolutely not saying it out loud

absofuckinglutely nonny

There's an excellent post by amorverus that I cannot find the original of so have my reblog HERE that articulates it really well

I even wrote a fic about it! #shameless self promotion [tumblr / ao3] (That is, in fact, one of my favorite things I've ever written.)

I do strongly believe that Alec knew that he was gay, and felt no shame about that in and of itself. He is not offended by Magnus flirting with him, would not, I think, be offended by anyone else flirting with him, regardless of gender. (Tho prior to Magnus I also think he just... wasn't interested, but that's a separate conversation.) He knew, however, that it was not allowed in his culture and it would hurt his family and not just him if it came out.

(This is why Izzy makes me so uncomfortable in s1 regarding Alec, tbqh, because she lives there too, but refuses to see the danger to herself and, more egregiously in Alec's mind, because obviously she can chose to risk herself for him if she wants, for all he doesn't like it, but she's causing risk for their little brother if Alec is outed, and that's unacceptable. Even if I'm quite sure Max would agree with her priorities.)

I do, however, think Alec felt a lot of shame regarding his attraction to Jace. Jace was hurting and was supposed to be his brother and yet... Alec felt an attraction that he knew Jace wouldn't return. So he's got all the societal pressure on him not to be gay, and all this personal pressure not to manipulate or abuse someone in a vulnerable situation (because Jace was, even if he wouldn't admit it), PLUS all the normal human issues with feeling attraction for someone who is important enough to you that you can't lose them, and you can legitimately be terrified that if you can't get it under control you MIGHT... (Even more so for him than a mundane romantic vs platonic situation, obviously, because there's questions of command and exile and punishment, not just ruining an interpersonal dynamic in a way it never quite recovers from.)

Plus Alec's kind of also Jace's commanding officer which is yet ANOTHER unequal power dynamic, and he's supposed to be protecting an entire Institute, not just this one person, but he can't stop thinking about it because it's fucked up and he knows he should stop and he can't.

(Because, he realizes with the benefit of hindsight after he meets Magnus, by fixating on Jace he was safe, he was never going to fall in love for real with someone he might have a chance with, would never have to actually choose between his culture and his personal desires, while still telling himself that he already had, that he'd chosen his family and it was fine, he was FINE.

(He was so not fine.))

And so, even though he truly believes there's nothing wrong with being gay in general, he does believes there is something Very Wrong with him specifically being gay.

But he still never has any doubt about it. He never tries to project heterosexual interest in anyone, is very up front with Lydia about the terms of their engagement. (It seems clear, even if we never see that conversation, that they're both aware that their marriage would never be romantic or sexual unless they mutually decided to go the so-called traditional route for children.) And she agreed to it! She, unlike Jace & Izzy, had zero illusions about her relationship with Alec, and I ADORE HER FOR THAT.

And I've totally lost the thread of this rambling, I'm not sure I have a conclusion for you? 😅😅😅

Alec is, imo, refreshingly self-aware about most things, and many of his issues are legitimately external stupidity punishing him into a life of self-recrimination rather than him having internal bigotry or biases against his own sexuality in and of itself.

[a41-i-finally-caved]

The first thing they find out is JJ cannot hold his tequila. It’s hilarious.

“Dude, would you chill out?” John B hisses, then smiles and tips his solo cup at the cute blonde who couldn’t quite look away from the two Pogues crashing Chelsa Harris’s yearly blowout event at her parent’s beachside mansion.

“I’m chill, man, so chill.” JJ cranks his ring around his finger. “Like, so chill if you took a big aquarium of water from the north pole and dumped a bunch of ice in it? ‘N then lowered me in smoking a bong or something, you couldn’t get me any chiller.” The ring twists around his finger again, and he doesn’t even notice the blonde girl sneaking another glance at his arms. “How’d you swing us invites again, exactly?”

John B takes a quick drink and winces. Tastes like ass. “Ah, you know.”

“So we’re crashing. Great. I can’t get in a fight tonight, bro.”

“No, no, it’s not crashing.” Glancing around the pool deck, John B nudges JJ closer to the dark side by the beach. “Chelsa invited me.”

“For real?” JJ stops cranking at his rings long enough to look John B in the eye. They’re finally at an equal height and John B’s still not quite sure what to do with it.

After years of being short as hell, JJ’s body cut him a break and shot up this summer, just in time for high school. Which is good, right? Because JJ’s always been scrappy, but some of the Kooks older than them saw the way JJ wore his clothes down to holes and weighed seventy pounds soaking wet as a reason to toss him around.

Now that JJ’s got some height, that should stop. John B won’t have to be up his ass all the time to make sure he doesn’t look like an easy target. Not that JJ ever was, but whatever. The height’s a good thing. It is.

“As a joke?” JJ squints, then smirks and tosses his arm over John B’s shoulder. “Or was she lookin’ to get a little freaky with a Pogue?” JJ jostles him, a little too hard, and John B’s not mad about the growth spurt, he’s not.

“Oh, I don’t know, JJ,” John B says flat as he twists JJ’s arm off his shoulder. “Maybe she likes my personality.”

JJ snorts. “The personality of your dick.”

John B shoves him and a shout goes up, but not over in their darkened side of the expansive patio. No, this comes from the pool house, as one of the seniors comes parading out with a longboard held over his head.

“Ain’t they never seen a board before?” JJ mumbles as a cheer breaks through the party. The senior winds between the impromptu dancefloor, past the hot tub, weaving between dancers and drinkers and clusters of talkers, working his way towards the beach.

“Don’t think he’s going surfing, J.” John B watches two other dudes haul a big metal oil drum after the senior, staggering from the weight or more likely, the booze, cheering and whooping and gathering a trail of stragglers in their wake. Excited stragglers, mostly upperclassmen, hauling along freshmen who look as confused as John B feels.

JJ steps toward the commotion.

“Dude, maybe we shouldn’t—”

“Yo gather ‘round losers and show me which of you can surf!” The shout comes, and okay, yup. There goes JJ. The kid loves surfing more than weed and, well, weed’s practically a positive family tradition for the Maybank clan. Running it, smoking it, growing it—lacing it with coke for personal use or laundry detergent to sell, Maybanks do it all, do a lot, and from a very young age.

“Damnit, JJ,” John B mutters and slides after him. What else can he do? JJ pokes at trouble and John B hauls him outta it has been the motto of their entire friendship… except for that patch this last summer where it was ‘I don’t ever want to see you ever again, John B’ and the solid three months where JJ hadn’t.

Maybe that’s why John B hesitates to find JJ in the crowd, for all that his gaze lands on him immediately, the way it always does. Sure, they patched things up before school started, and don’t get him wrong, John B’s glad for it! It’s just…

Hearing JJ say he hates him makes John B wonder if JJ ever cared at all.

‘A one-sided relationship will never work,’ Kiara told him the other day. Granted, she was talking about his kinda dating/not really dating thing he had with Kim from math class, not his best friend, but ever since the summer, since that night JJ showed up crying, and then all the days since when JJ showed up joking around like those three months never happened, John B’s felt… off.

Tense. Nervous. Like the sand might give out from under his feet.

“Dude, c’mon,” JJ says from his elbow, because JJ’s circled back for him. Of course he did. They’re best friends.

John B shoves anything else away.

(Read the rest on Ao3 for the promised TequilaDrunk!JJ)

[lya-dustin]

Shock and Delight

Chapter 12

Cw: slight misogyny, Criston's Madonna-Whore Complex, mentions of bullying as a child

Aemond doesn’t send his flowers in person and has his page do it for him with a note meant for Aemma; they are supposed to be in thanks for their walk together.

Despite the urge to be witty at Aemma’s expense, Aemond knows this mummery cannot fail.

Unlike Rhaena’s suitor, he had not accidentally given her his condolences, and unlike the Blackwood Boy, he had not implied he was a woman in love with Baela.

Daisies with lavender and baby’s breath and some other flowers that complimented Aemma and declared some sort of romantic feeling while being the most modest thing she’s gotten.

A simple and yet meaningful thing that will make suitors up their game when their intendeds hear of this through the Morning Scandal.

“You have never done any of this before, your highness.” Cole looks at the rough drafts of said note with equal parts paternal interest and warrior’s suspicion.

“None have been Aemee.” he said with a shrug.

A good enough lie.

He’d never pretended to have an entire relationship with someone before. Aemee was also different from all the ladies because she was his half-niece and very willing to pretend to love him like that.

Aemond could even say he loves her, and it wouldn’t be a lie because he does love her as one loves their family. Not that he wants Cole asking him about it, he’d go straight to mother with the news.

“You would betray the cause for a crown for yourself?” Cole also knows him well.

He is not a romantic, he is pragmatic. Logic over feeling. Gods know feelings have fucked up everyone’s lives enough in this family.

“It would be a good move on our part, Rhaenyra wouldn’t want to kill us when it could cost her Aemma.” The prince lies. “Besides shouldn’t my mother be considering the cost of a war so close to winter while we have the Stepstones and, most importantly, the stain of kinslaying over giving Aegon a crown?”

A queen counts the cost against her own people, empty words for someone who has been preparing for a war since he lost his eye. A justified reason to wage it, but considering half the Reach doesn’t like grandfather and Lady Sharra Tyrell was given her son’s regency by Rhaenyra’s meddling on the first day back here, it was just a foolish idea.

“You know it isn’t about giving your elder brother his rightful inheritance, your highness. It is about upholding tradition and what the Faith has taught us all.” Cole defends mother with every breath he takes and Aemond, to be frank, grows tired of it with each passing day.

Why did people, especially Criston, have to hold his mother in such a high pedestal? Why can’t she just be Alicent who does a respectable job at keeping the realms together instead of this sinless and pure, the Mother reborn in flesh image they raise against Rhaenyra’s?

None of those people talk of his mother’s capabilities as a stateswoman or the compassion she has for women and children, they just say she is pretty and pious and praise grandfather and the Faith for her goodness. No one thinks she is good because she made herself good.

Gods, barely a fortnight has gone, and already Aemma’s strange views have rubbed off on him. If people ever viewed them without the screen of more myth than men, they’d realize they could rule themselves and kill them all.

“Dorne follows the Seven and they have female heirs and lords, which has gone very well for them. Only realm to have killed a dragon and all that.” It’s a potshot, but it gets Criston to stop talking about this. “Aemma would make a good ruler, better than her own mother and Aegon if you ask me.”

Aemma giggles as she reads the note over and over and keeps Aemond’s flowers in her best vase in the sitting room.

“Careful, Lady Morning will write about it.” Septa Teora teases as they rest from having delivered in person the last batch of flowers to the septs in the city.

It had been a good opportunity to see how Kingslanding was doing under the rule of the greens, so far it was rather the same as when they’d left. The charities were well run even if they depended on the recipient to be in the Faith, the guilds were mostly satisfied, but the schools suffered a disparity between the sex of their students.

That had been put in her agenda, but for now they focused on the Septs in Flea Bottom as they provided the backbone to the charities.

The Sept in Flea Bottom needed much work, as did the orphanages and schools they had for their flock. The ones in the more well-to-do parts were in perfect shape and sang praises of Alicent and Helaena, one had even gone as far as to have the Mother modeled after Alicent despite looking about as young as the Maiden.

Very clever of her, even if her faith was as false as her smiles, she had the faith and the faithful smallfolk on her side. Useful for when she usurps her mother. After all who cares if you’re going against the king’s will if people have a good image of you in their heads.

“She better, or else Aemond must step up his game.” Aemma would love to tell her, but Teora would tell mother this was all a ruse.

“You like him, don’t you?” the Septa asks, and it hurts Aemma to lie to someone who is a mother to her in all but name.

Although it’s not much of a lie, in the brief time they had since reacquainting themselves, Aemma has come to like Aemond as a friend. He had a sharp wit, a hidden sweetness underneath the viper-like exterior and understood her as only a true friend would.

“We were always fond of each other when we were children. I wouldn’t mind marrying him.” Somehow that was all true, Aemond and Aemma had been born within months of each other and neither had dragons until they were one and ten, so naturally they would spend most of their time together hiding from Aegon in grandfather’s library.

Grandfather then introduced them to history and philosophy and for a few moments Aemond knew what it was to have a father who cared. Until they were banished from there because the Maesters feared the Rot was contagious and could harm them. After that they contented themselves with Helaena’s room and Teora taking the books to and from the library under the tabard of her habit.

“You could if you wanted, your grandmother was fond of telling me that she and my brother were friends before they were sweethearts, Aem.” Teora means well, but this match with Aemond was nonsense. His mother would use all she could to stop it and mother would never part with her to give the Greens a new hostage. Luke wrote he was called Luke Waters by some novices who went unpunished by their superiors and forbidden from flying without the permission of the Seneschal, other than that he seemed fine.

 “Perhaps, but I would rather know if I can find a perfect consort elsewhere before looking into my immediate family. Some new blood might help us secure allies should the worst comes to pass.”

So far Aemma had Kermit Tully, Joffrey Arryn, Tyrion Lannister ---only son of Ser Jason Lannister and his wife Leona Lefford--- and Robert Rowan to choose from. Aemond had helped her whittle down the list to the four men of good moral and standing to have his grandfather rethink his stance on usurping her mother.

Lord Grover may be on the side of tradition because the Gods gave him only sons and no granddaughters, Joffrey was Cousin Jeyne’s heir, Tyrion would make his father change allegiances and Robert Rowan was nephew of Otto through his dearly departed sister who hated his guts.

None of them disparaged Aemond for losing his eye, none of them care that her mother fucked Harwin and none of them did things that were unbecoming of a future king consort…or so she’s seen so far.

Now all Aemma needed to do was make sure they were compatible. Easier said than done.

[fallingforel]

PROMPTMAS DAY 6- Gingerbread house- Sam fender

⋆｡°✩

so sorry this has taken me so long i have had a super busy week. i have no idea how im meant to get 6 more out by christmas day. but enjoy. el xx

⋆｡°✩

⋆｡��✩

It was christmas eve, Sam’s and I’s second christmas as a married couple fourth together. We were currently at my family house on the outskirts of newcastle in the countryside and we were having our traditional gingerbread house making competition. Every year the couples of the extended family take part in a gingerbread house competition of recreating their own houses, the ones who were single were either judges or teamed up with another singleton and created one of the pairs house, when we were younger and for the kids currently they usually help with their parents, sometimes they help judge, but it’s usually the competiveness that stops them from participating, This year sam and I were announcing our pregnancy during this years competition, it was a great way to announce it. My sister and Brother were the judges this year for the fourth time in a row, because naturally they were the only singletons of the L/N family left.

“Welcome to the annual L/N gingerbread house making competition. Okay as always Y/B/N and I are the judges because we have had way too many dates gone wrong this year. you know the rules by now for those who have forgotten it’s as follows, we make the gingerbread cook them, do our annual presents giving for those who won’t be here tomorrow. We then come back, build the houses and by 9pm tonight we have a winner. Jeanie i’m routing for you this year” my sister jokes,great aunt jeanie was always the one to make hers the least realistic as she had a wild imagination and was a cake creator so she brought in ideas that she wanted to try out, she’s usually last place.

“Okay enough, Can we get on with it?” My dad says “yep go start making your gingerbread” My sister says becoming bored and going back to her phone, I must ask her later what that’s all about she’s been glued to the bloody thing all morning.

“we’re bound to win this year” Sam whispers next to me. “Oh for sure this pregnancy announcement is gonna blow the roof of everyone’s” I whisper making sure to keep quiet, not wanting to spoil the surprise. “You make the house, I’ll make the people and fence as always?” I say to him “Yeah we’re bound to win this darling” He says next to me before placing a kiss on my cheek.

⋆｡°✩

1 hour later and all the gingerbreads were in the ovens, and we were all gathered in the living room to open presents.

“Y/n and sam this one’s yours” My little cousin passed me a rather large present placing it in front of us.

by the time all the presents had been placed in front of everyone and had a pile.

“great aunt jeanie, open yours from us first” I say, “Okay darling, what have you gotten me this year? another phone” “mum that was one year, And they did it as a favour to me because you cannot be sending me letters every time you need me to be popping to the shop besides it was only a landline. open it anyway i’m not having this conversation” My aunt Lucy replies.

She rips the present open “awwh how lovely” she holds up the square cardboard where sam’s face sat “we knew how much you wanted to listen to sam’s music but didn’t know how to work a cd player and music online so we got you the hypersonic missiles vinyl, the seventeen going under one is to follow if you like the first one, jeanie” I say.

“how thoughtful. I think it’s only right if you open my one to you two” “which one is it?” sam asks moving his hand from my thigh to reach to the floor “the rectangle one.” “ahh found it” he says picking it up off the floor and placing it in my lap I open it and it’s a reed diffuser with mine and sam’s initial on it placed in a love heart “Oh this is cute and thoughtful” I say “Lucy found it on the face book. she already got you guys something so she got that from me to you” “It’s not preowned before you ask some woman makes them, and i asked her to make one for you guys” “oh thank you, even if it was preowned it still would’ve been thoughtful” I say

⋆｡°✩

After all the presents were done we went back into the kitchen and started building our house, sam and I had disguised the pregnant gingerbread into a normal gingerbread person and created two little balls and passed them off as “snowballs” that were going to be incorporated into the gingerbread people throwing them.

“okay do you remember how to build the house, you forgot last year.” I say “i didn’t forget i forgot to bring the sheet i write it down on and had to remember how to build it from memory and i also had to remember how our house looks from the outside. “Still can’t believe you forgot what our house looks like” “we had just moved it was difficult” sam says “whatever, it’s not too late to divorce you” I say in a whisper knowing that if anybody heard the D word it would cause a riot. “might i remind you that your pregnant with my baby” he whispers back in my ear.

we had built the house and had to wait 5 minutes until we could start decoration it so i decided to create the pregnant gingerbread while we waited.

⋆｡°✩

2 hours later and our gingerbread house was done we used white dripping icing for the snow on the roof, black fondant for the gutter chimney and arial, white fondant for our front door gold fondant for the doorknob beige fondant for our steps, green fondant for the bushes over the gingerbread fences, and then outside the front was the two gingerbread people holding hands stood on the doorstop, with the pregnant and at the base of the house was icing writing that read “welcome baby fender due summer 24”

“Okay times up, we need 30 minutes to judge everyone’s and come up with a winner. so please excuse yourself”

once everyone had vacated the kitchen about 30 seconds later, a loud “OH MY GOD, THERES NO WAY!” sam and i giggled to ourselves before subtly high fiving.

⋆｡°✩

half an hour later we were all gathered back into the kitchen.

“Okay, so we have a clear winner. announcing their PREGNANCY. yes. PREGNANCY. which has been a first and I certainly hope it’s not the last… I mean we’ve had marriages, divorces. that was a weird one, bless carol i miss her. but never a pregnancy. so for that. Congratulations to the fenders you won this years annual gingerbread house competition” a chorus of “oh my gosh”’s and “awwh congrats” and applauses but sam and i were in our own world hugging and him placing kisses on my cheek.

“this time next year you’ll all have a baby fender to spoil.”

⋆｡°✩

end

[artist-issues]

Hello! Hope you're having a splendid day~♡

I saw your post about Halloween coming, and how it was a favorite holiday of yours, and it prompted me to ask you a question;

My best friend (who has been Christian for his entire life) recently stopped celebrating Halloween because he feels it has pagan and demonic connotations. I respect his stance, but it does sadden me because having a large theme for Halloween was always our yearly tradition.

So, my question is this: as you are a Christian who loves Halloween, what would you say to Christians who feel celebrating it is against the Word of God? Thank you for your time! 🥰

Hi! You're very kind to ask me; I’m not an expert, and it’s important that we note that this is a grey area: the Bible, as far as I know, does not command that we celebrate or don’t celebrate Halloween. So what that means is, it doesn’t really matter what I think; it matters what your personal conviction about this is after talking with God about it and studying the principals He is black-and-white on in Scripture.

I could be wrong about Halloween. Your friend could be right. It’s an area the Bible doesn’t lay out specific instructions on (that I know of. If someone knows a place in the Bible where it is a thing please reblog and add to the discussion.) So don’t take anything I say too seriously.

Here’s a post where I do ramble on in depth, where someone asked me about this once.

But basically my idea is this:

1

All the seasons of the year tell a story, symbolically, that looks a lot like the story of God in history. Spring = Bright beginnings and the promise of beautiful life; Summer = Settling into the new normal, growing/making choices; Autumn = the consequences (good or bad) of those choices, either harvest or decay; Winter = Dark, cold, quiet, deathlike—except for the celebration of the end of that season, which is a gift humans don’t deserve and cannot cause for themselves….and back into Spring = rebirth.

So if all the seasons tell a story, Autumn is the darkest hour. It’s Marlin thinking Nemo is dead in the dentist’s office. It’s the dad dying and the family hiding in the basement from the monsters in A Quiet Place. It’s Little Red Riding Hood getting swallowed by the wolf. But I like that because it’s specifically when the monsters appear to triumph, and they think they’ve won, and the protagonist finally takes a good hard look at his own life—-it’s that “darkest hour” moment—when the monsters are usually weakest. Because they think they’ve won or they’ll win, and the story isn’t over yet, the protagonist is about to finally “get it” in a way they couldn’t have if they hadn’t gone through the “darkest hour.” So I observe Halloween and I get that sense, symbolically, from it. And I think earlier generations of Christians did, too.

2

Biblically, Paul said to have no partnership with demons. In the context, he meant that Christians shouldn’t get close to anything that might have the appearance of allying with demons…because then it would be allying with demons. Here’s how: if an unbeliever thinks that’s what you’re doing, the result for them is the same as if you were: they assume Christians are hypocritical. Serving “gods,” like everybody else, instead of the one God. And that is one more obstacle in the way of that person trusting Christ. So indirectly, because you’re just thinking about you and the places you’re “free” to go and do in Christ, you actually hindered the Gospel just as much as if you’d abandoned it and started worshipping false gods.

So your friend can have a point. If an unbelieving world can look at your Halloween party or costume or favorite movie, and go, “I don’t know much about Christianity, but I do know it normally doesn’t line up with that sexy-witch’s costume she’s wearing and the song about black sorcery she’s screaming along to—I guess she’s not serious about her religion, I guess it’s just religion to her, doesn’t really affect everything she does,” etc., then there’s a problem. It’s hurting your testimony. It looks like your allegiances are with whatever fun you feel free to have, never mind the connotations…instead of your allegiances being to Christ and Good, first and foremost.

But. If you’re careful, and you’re careful to connect everything you enjoy about Halloween back to the Truth…well, your non-believing friends might find the way you “celebrate” to be cringey all of a sudden, but who cares, as long as your allegiance is clear?

Personally, I like the monsters, not because they’re cool and I have a celebratory penchant for gore, but because they symbolize the fact that evil exists. And evil is miserable, destroys things, and is defeatable. Not to mention, in the story of the Bible, we are the monsters. Then Christ sacrifices and makes us a new creation. And I like it when those facts are made clear.

I just have to work hard to communicate that to any unbeliever who will listen about all this, when Halloween comes around. I want to do what the Christians did for the pagan winter-celebration in Rome: I want to take those natural God-given human impulses, like fear and noticing darkness, which have been twisted—and I want to un-twist them. I want to give them their proper context. I want to fix Halloween and make it do what Christmas does, in its proper context. I want to make Halloween point to the Truth.

3

I mean just think about it for two seconds. A werewolf is a man who’s transformed into a beast every month. A beast. Something that can’t reason, can’t control itself, just moves and breathes and lives to crate destruction and pain; that’s its nature. It can’t help it. And it comes from inside the man, who wants nothing more than to be rid of it, who’s terrified of himself and what he can do to others…but there’s nothing he can do. Because it is him. He can’t stop himself.

“So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” Romans 7:21-24

But often in the old, classic monster stories it’s something pure, with an element of sacrifice, that finally fixes the monster problem. Like how the next verse says: “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

Really, truly, I love Halloween because I see the seeds here of a story that could point back to truth.

I’m the monster. I’m the scary, evil thing that can’t be overcome, that can’t stop doing what it does best—bringing death and darkness to the forefront of everything around me. The world’s all rotting, cursed, going through the motions of life but in reality, undead. That’s all the truth, and the victims are the ones who pretend it’s not all that bad. Who shut their eyes to the dark, scary stuff. But the ones who recognize it, who see the “darkest hour” for what it is, get to ride that darkest hour like Jack Sparrow riding into port on a sinking ship—the bad news is just your ticket to looking for, and finding, the Good News. Without a problem, there is no joy in a solution. Without conflict, there’s no story.

I’m the monster, the twisted being with the double-life, who doesn’t want to be the way they are, but can’t help it…but the monster’s powerless by the end of the story. What seemed so terrifying is actually not all-powerful, and won’t last.

So yeah, my plan is, dress up like a monster, but that makeup comes off, and THEN I get to eat candy, because yay, it’s off. Just like my life. In a way.

[girlbossblackbeard]

s2 brain thoughts: the squeakuel (ep 2)

as a reminder, if u see me posting any of these points as their own posts mind ur business:

-i'm sending my hospital bills to david jenkins for weaponizing thef cuking "you wear fine things well" scene WITHOUT ANY KIND OF WARNING i literally almost choked to death from shock

-hey so what the whole actual fuck is up with transitioning directly from the very painful "you wear fine things well" scene which, as we've already established, has REAL HUMAN CASUALTIES DUE TO THIS USE-CASE, into the "run from me darling" lyric overlayed on top of the god damn shot of ed pAINTING THE BRIDE CAKE TOPPER TO LOOK LIKE HIM AND BASICALLY PLAYING OUT HIS FANTASY OF MARRYING STEDE. david jenkins you have committed crimes

-also!!!!!!!!!! that cake topper has kohl smudged all over it so you KNOW our boy ed has been caressing it against his cheek and sighing longingly

-i know we've all talked about how insane the "ed plays with the wedding cake toppers pretending they're him and stede" scene is but i don't think we've really comprehended how GENUINELY INSANE it is like??? edward teach, blackbeard, the kraken, the scourge of the seven seas, the most fearsome pirate the caribbean has ever known that has recently been on a non-stop slaughtering spree, painted a bride wedding cake topper to look like himself which he then scoots next to a wedding cake topper that looks like stede so he can imagine that he's marrying him. this man carefully rubbed kohl on a cake topper to give it darker skin and darker hair and a BEARD. to make it look more like himself. so he could then. put it next to a cake topper that looked like stede. and pretend. they were getting married. i've written that 3 times now and my brain STILL refuses to fully process those sentences.

-i said it in my first brain thoughts post for ep 1 and i'll say it again: every time im reminded that ed has been crying NON-STOP. EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. for MONTHS. over stede. my wall gains another hole

-the way ed is so delirious in his sadness as he pushes the cake toppers out the window. i don't even have any thoughts on that i feel like all i can do is just note it and let y'all deal with the rest

>>actually I lied, he literally watches them sink into the sea after he pushes them out the window that's so fucked up whomever made that decision to make him do that is so fucked up

-"the sea is restorative isn't it" "YYYYEEESSS QUEEN!!!!!!!!!! I'VE ALWAYS SAID SO!!!!!!!!!!!!" "ohh that guy knows" IS THE MOST UNDERRATED EXCHANGE IN THE ENTIRE SERIES IT LITERALLY HAD ME SHAKING WITH LAUGHTER

-would looooooooooooooove to know what went through stede's head as soon as roach mentioned "some place called China??" like did he immediately think of the kiss or getting sent to the naval academy or the kiss or ed's excitement at the prospect of running away together or the kiss or getting kidnapped by chauncey or the kiss or watching chauncey shoot himself in the dome or the kiss or his flop behavior of running back to his family that doesn't even want him or the kiss or

-the crew of the red flag being so immediately kind and welcoming to stede and his crew <3

-i genuinely cannot wait to watch buttons fully immerse himself in the red flag traditions like he was made to be on that crew

-"how should I put this, your energy is..." can't believe they got hatecrimed like that

-RAT BOY

-HE'S HERE

-OUR BOY IS HERE

-fun fact: i recorded my live reaction to episodes 1 - 3 and posted the clip of my friends and i reacting to lucius coming back because we were quite literally jumping for joy and crying over the reunion and THE illustrious Nathan Foad himself told me it was literally the cutest thing he's ever seen (his words, not mine!!) so we're basically best friends forever now and the rest of my life will be spent chasing the high of the happiness i felt during that interaction

-i am also crying once again over his reappearance and i think that's just gonna happen every time i watch this scene :')

-roach's shocked face when lucius appears is something that can actually be so personal

-the way they all dogpile on top of him because they're so happy to see him bitch what the FCUK

-also stede's STUPID LITTLE "huh!" LIKE??????????? THAT WAS YOUR SCRIBE AND RELATIONSHIP GURU YOU HEARTLESS MONSTER WHERE IS THE ENERGY AND EXCITEMENT AT KNOWING HE ISN'T FUCKING DEAD??????????????

-"i love it" *BIG SMOOCH* "i love all of it" *BIGGER SMOOCH* oh so they're trying to kill me by smothering me in the syrupy sweetness of their love. okay

-okay sorry but lucius's absolutely microscopic furrowing of his brow right before black pete kisses him again. for a split second he had a slight look of sadness which lines up with the very real trauma he's endured and how even in extremely happy moments they can be tinged with sadness - maybe a sadness for the past and the way things could've been if he hadn't been pushed off the boat - and all i can say is nathan foad. ur big powerful acting mind

-we gotta talk about lucius choosing not to reveal that ed had pushed him off the ship in front of the whole crew. i'm still trying to figure out if that was him trying to spare stede's feelings (unlikely considering he lets it all out later), spare black pete's feelings (possible, since he knows black pete idolizes blackbeard), prevent himself from having to relive that trauma in front of his friends when he's not prepared to confront those memories, or a combination of all of the above

-"i fell. off the ship." "that doesn't sound like you. you have impeccable balance, babe" i literally love black pete so much i may legally have to change my name to lucius spriggs

-"toouwelss? what is this? are these jobs?" stede i love you so very much to the moon and back but for the love of god you gotta shut it my guy

-I AM LITERALLY SO EXCITED FOR THE BUTTONS SEA WITCH STORY ARC LIKE IT MAY ACTUALLY BE ON PAR WITH MY EXCITEMENT TO SEE ED AND STEDE PROPERLY REUNITE AND OPENLY LOVE EACH OTHER AGAIN

-ed just. washing the door handle. i dont have any other thoughts

-GODDDDDDD HE'S SERVING SOOOOOO MUCH GENDER WITH HIS LIL HAIR BUN AND MOSTLY CLEANED UP WAR PAINT AND DANGLY EARRINGS AKEFJAPWHFA OPERGJAER

-the way frenchie looks genuinely happy for ed when he says he thinks he got all the poison out of his system and it's a new day :((

-idk much about piracy but i really don't think there's a rule about the new first mate traditionally having to kill the old first mate, i think ed just made that up so someone else would have to kill izzy instead of him. despite everything, despite how low he's sunken into the very dark parts of his mind due to the heartbreak, ed still can't bring himself to deal the killing blow

-"i expect great things from you" might be one of the more chilling lines in that interaction because for THE blackbeard to have not just any expectations from you, but GREAT expectations? that's not a compliment, that's a threat. measure up to what blackbeard thinks you should be or else

-can't comment on the amputation scene too yucky sorry

-stede trying to triangulate ed's coordinates based off of his string of crimes on a map HE drew is me trying to triangulate where tf this season is going based off of buckwild theories i've made up and used as the foundation for even more buckwild theories

-yeah idk what the mushy ass lyrics stede wrote on that map mean but i know they're frighteningly homosexual

-"FUCK YOU. that's how i am" I am SO glad lucius gets to be openly bitchy towards stede it feels like a cathartic release for me personally

-ed's fuckin "heyyyy" to frenchie in the kitchen is both hilarious and unbelievably unsettling

-absolutely obsessed with the writers for once again showing just how scarily observant and intelligent ed is when he calls frenchie out for using his right hand to mime killing izzy even though he's actually left handed

-i really admire how david chose to use a low camera angle that looks up at ed as he reveals to frenchie that he's well aware he hasn't killed izzy yet because taika's performance was already unsettling enough but that specific angle adds so much to his overall menacing presence in that scene

-joel fry's performance in the kitchen scene with ed literally makes me want to bite something he's so good at acting quietly terrified

-this is almost certainly an unpopular opinion but i really would've loved to see more buildup to jim and archie kissing. i just feel like we know NOTHING about her let alone her relationship with jim prior to the two days we've seen them interacting and i feel like that kiss would've felt like a much more satisfying payoff if we had seen more interactions between them before they got to that point. i would've taken delaying that kiss by a few episodes if it meant feeling fully invested in it once it did happen, but i also know the show already has so much material to get through (which is why we should've gotten 10 eps but i digress)

-"hey no one told me this room existed" is giving "i didn't even realize there was piracy happening"

-"take the fuckin leg" is such a perfect line delivery

-love the foreshadowing of olu explaining how the little ships on the war table were all over the place and "some of them were over land"

-roach waxing poetic about the noodles is so relatable

-"jesus christ stede keep your pants on" hands down one of the funniest fucking lucius moments of all time

-sorry but we gotta give a shout out to lucius modifying the chinese fleet uniform so it's sleeveless. the edges are cleanly done so either he was put on tailoring duty at some point and picked it up there or someone on the ship wanted to enable the slayage

-there's something to be said about the fact that the only other man who has lasted being on board the red flag ship is another member of the revenge who was picked up and welcomed into the fold well before stede and the rest of the crew wound up there. something about how stede attracts and retains other people who he can tell are gentle at heart, even if they're putting up a tough front. something about how lucius had bounced from ship to ship until he finally wound up on Zheng Yi Sao's ship where he was allowed to be himself

-"ya don't know............if ya picked up....smokin....." nathaniel buttons my beloved

-OOOOF stede's guilty face after lucius talks about how he must've picked up smoking somewhere. after the crushing guilt he already feels about the ed situation this definitely would've weighed extremely heavy on him

-MY SPICY LIL RAT BOY IS SO IMPORTANT TO ME

-"what the hell is going on in towels" wee john my beloved

-look i know izzy is on the brink of death but he genuinely looks kinda beautiful before ed wakes him up from his shock induced coma and i won't apologize for that

-"my leg" izzy is so fred rechid coded

-"it's up in leg heaven now" i need to know if ed said that as a way of metaphorically digging the knife into izzy and getting back at him for trying to force ed to send stede to doggy heaven in season 1

-i dont have the emotional capacity to dive into the ed and izzy shooting scene rn but just know it destroyed me on a metaphysical level

-"too scared to do it yourself" no because unfortunately now im thinking about ed thinking through taking his own life but coming to the realization that he can't do it. whether it's because of childhood christianity trauma and thinking he'll be sent to hell for doing so or because he knows he can't follow through with it himself if there's still a tiny shred of hope that he'll reunite with stede and everything will be okay again, he always has to outsource the big job

-also, very interesting choice to have almost jovial classical music playing in the background of the ed/izzy scene. it definitely undercut a lot of the tension compared to how supremely uncomfortable and anxiety-inducing the scene would've been if it were dead silent behind the dialogue

-"i loved you...best i could"

-"i've got an ex-wife, two messed up kids probably" LMAO stede acknowledging he would have no way of knowing how fucked up his kids are because of him

-"sounds like you're quite the fuck-up pal" "yeah, i am! and im alone! talk to pete. don't be like me" ohhhhh my god stede is in just as much agony as ed is over this breakup he's just been using his polite society social skills of saving face and never showing how truly devastated you are to others to cover up how supremely messed up he is over all of it. he is BEGGING lucius to talk to pete and NOT make the same mistakes he did because maybe if he can prevent lucius from bottling it up and actually deal with this in a healthy way he can make up for a fraction of all the hurt he's caused not only ed but lucius as well. maybe if he can get lucius to talk to pete he can absolve himself of some of the soul-crushing guilt he feels over how his actions have irreparably damaged the people he cares about the most. maybe if lucius and pete are able to work through this trauma and still come out the other side loving each other just as much or even more than they did before, he can believe that there's still hope for him and ed.

-ed choosing to put on the cravat for what he believes is going to be his last action on earth before dying because he's resigned himself to his fate but is still scared shitless by it and wants that modicum of comfort that stede will always be able to provide him no matter how badly he hurt ed is giving me the urge to find the nearest cast iron skillet and loony toons my skull

-"some people are just broken no matter what you do" noooo why do i feel like lucius was talking about himself when he said that to stede about ed ://

-oof i know they were an unnamed character but fang tried to save someone who went overboard during the storm and wasn't able to :(

-GGGOOOODDDDDDD izzy looks so fucking hot and badass all soaking wet and leaning up against the rigging after shooting ed jesus christ

-"finally" ed was so relieved to have his pain finally end. even after his journey of self discovery in the next episode im really curious how he's going to deal with having to confront the pain he thought he escaped in addition to the pain he inflicted on others while failing to cope with that pain and stopping at nothing, including nearly killing the rest of the crew, to end it