#and her devastating sense of humour

[itwasabeautifulwebbing]

baldur’s gate 3 really is the game of all time for the gays who want to celebrate both sad pathetic wet men AND women’s wrongs

#baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #minthara #minthara baenre #i am still thinking about that post i saw a couple of days ago #where OP was mad about men being categorized as babygirls and women as the only braincell havers #and OP was right that the latter girlboss-ification of women while subsequently never letting the narrative focus on them #(or having fandoms actually focus on them) #is depressing and exhausting #but that’s why!!! bg3 is so great imo!!! #the women characters in bg3 are absolutely the main appeal of this game!! #like yes astarion is extremely popular and with good reason #but he is not the only character with a delightfully feral and dedicated fan base happy to excuse all his wrongs because of his big sad eyes #/flourishes both hands @ minthara baenre will smith style #look at this sad war criminal and her big sad eyes and her arrogance and her insecurity #and her devastating sense of humour #she is hyperfixation material

[netegf]

Hate It When You Leave

pairing: f!reader x rafe cameron

plot: you are trying to cope with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with your best friend. he's trying to cope with the fact that you don't go after the things you want... including him.

warnings: 18+, best friends to lovers trope, use of Y/N, mentions of alcohol and past drug use, non-graphic references to violence, some angst & jealousy, fluff and smut (public sex, teasing, oral female receiving)

word count: 6.5 k

There are parts about wearing your heart on your sleeve that no one ever talks about.

For instance, that it's hard to fix your face when the threads keeping that heart together feel like they're getting tugged, cut, and re-bunched into an ugly knot. 

The water bottle you're holding hardly has any life left. Even Kelce comments as much when he rounds his kitchen island, limbs swinging and loose thanks to the red Solo cup in his hand. He takes one look at the tight smile on your lips and tilts his head to the side, fingers twitching upward to your chin as he turns your head to face him. 

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" He asks, voice a little slurred, but thick with concern.

That was Kelce. Polarizingly good at getting to what someone was hiding underneath. 

But appearances went a long way for him. And he was so agreeable, it made him easy to lie to. Especially when he and Topper had practically begged you to come to this party, his first one since graduating college. Everyone would be there, he'd said.

And he was right, they were. 

"Nothing, Kels, it's just my stomach being a little funny." You tell him with a renewed sense of enthusiasm. You gaze at him warmly and quirk a brow, smiling genuinely. "How do you always know?"

"We've known each other our whole lives!" He barks in a laugh. "There's nothing I don't know about you."

You feel your heart squeeze again, like there's a too-tight belt around it. But you humour him with a sweet giggle and convinced nod, and it's all Kelce needs before he's walking away to mingle with another. 

How shocked he'd be to know that there was something you were hiding. 

You keep the water bottle you're holding close to your body as if it would fall straight out of your hands otherwise. When you watch the brunette seated next to Rafe on the couch squeeze his bicep again, you think it might just fall anyway. 

Some things don't change. 

The sun goes up and down. The moon makes a nightly appearance. Kelce never dresses for the weather. Topper claims everyone else is cheating when he loses. 

You love Rafe Cameron.

"Fucking sucks, doesn't it?" A voice rings next to you.

You slowly turn your head from where you're sitting on the kitchen island to see a familiar face lounging on one of the high-chairs. 

Topper, apparently, had always had an inkling. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Top." You grumble, casting your eyes away from the blonde protagonist of most of your dreams. Some of your nightmares, too. 

You watch as Topper rolls his eyes without so much as glancing at you, a small scoff escaping his lips. He takes a hearty sip from his cup of brown liquid. Tracking his eye-line, you're unsurprised to find that he's staring wistfully at the very same blonde's sister. 

Sarah Cameron is dancing in the corner of the room with John B., her boyfriend. 

A Pogue at a Kook party... the thought still makes you skeptical.

Not because you didn't like John B., or more accurately, like him for Sarah. But because a few short years ago, all this seemed entirely impossible.

Nonetheless, Sarah was important to all of you. 

And, like she'd said, Rafe listened to you better than he did anyone else.

When you explained to him how smitten his sister was with the boy, and considering how their relationship had endured far past those murmurings of 'young love' to, what was at this point, years together, he'd begun to understand that John B. wasn't going anywhere. 

Much to Topper's devastation. 

He promised he was over her, and he dated like it, too. But there were those moments where he had a few drinks in him and it made you think otherwise. 

"Oh, okay. My fault." Topper replies sarcastically, downing what's left in his cup and finally turning away from the couple he's burning holes through. "I thought we were being honest."

"I am being honest."

He glances at you sharply. 

"Uh huh. Hey, don't freak out, but, your nose is like, growing really long. Never seen anything like it before. It's like in that movie! What's it called, again? Puppet boy? No, that can't be right..."

"Very funny, Topper." You say dryly, but the hint of a smile on your lips sells you out and he chuckles next to you. 

"I was thinking Pinocchio." He fake recalls, nudging your elbow. 

This time, you laugh with your chest, and when you lift your head up to take it all in again, your eyes meet familiar blue ones from across Kelce's living room.

By now, you know how to mediate the warmth that blooms at the base of your spine and consumes you completely. 

There's a comfortable silence between the two of you before Topper starts speaking again. 

"You know he would do anything for you, right?" 

You chew on your bottom lip, still holding eye contact with Rafe who gives you a crooked smile. The girl next to him leans in to whisper something in his ear. He keeps looking at you. 

"Yeah, I know." You mumble half-heartedly. "I just feel like I might need to cut my losses at this point." 

Topper frowns for a moment, then stands up from his seat. 

"Well, you suit yourself." He pinches your cheek affectionately. "Because I, for one, want to crash and burn."

You snort at Topper's words and just as quickly watch him round the kitchen counter to grab another drink. 

Preoccupied with the way he extends that gesture to you, fixing some gross concoction of different sodas for you to sip on, a shiver rolls over your skin when it feels like Rafe's smouldering eyes are still lighting a fire on your face. 

Aron Andersen is a douche, but he means well. 

At least, that's the excuse you aways placate Rafe with when Aron inevitably runs his mouth, the blonde's fists tightening nearly every time in conjunction.

Typically, you opt for the pacifist approach because blood is a bitch to clean, Rafe whines when you clean him up with saline, and frankly, Aron isn't worth it.

But tonight, he seems to enjoy testing your threshold for patience like no one else before him. 

You suppose he's not entirely to blame. Kelce makes his drinks strong, and half of Figure 8 is sucking up all the oxygen in the room.

Maybe that was why Rafe had almost swung on John B. only a few minutes prior, claiming the younger man was feeding his sister lies about him. Perhaps it was just one of those nights. 

Still, you sigh when Aron drunkenly makes his way over to your new spot in the backyard, and press your lips tight together when he shoves a beer in your direction.  

"I'm not drinking tonight, Aron." You tell him plainly. 

Aron haphazardly plops down into the lounge chair next to you with his glossy, red eyes narrowing.

He grudgingly pulls the beer back from you and takes a sip that pools around the sides of his mouth, then drains down his throat slow and loud. 

"That sucks. You're more fun when you do." He scoffs.

Your mouth falls open as the words leave his lips, head spinning to meet his annoyed gaze. The faraway look in his eyes makes you gulp.

In no particular mood to be berated, you have half a mind to scoff back and get up to leave. But there's something about the way he speaks completely unadulterated that keeps your body locked in place.

Like you're dying to know what someone really thinks of you.

"Why not?" He presses, gesturing with his finger accusingly. 

"I'm driving."

He continues to stare at you blankly.

"I'm driving." You reiterate, irritation seeping into your tone. "And drunk driving is illegal, Aron. You do know that, right?"

Unintentionally, your eyes flicker to a slightly rowdy and staggering Topper across the room. Aron zeroes in on that and rolls his eyes emphatically. 

"Now it makes sense. You're taking your boyfriends home." He pitches the word in a scornful taunt, squinting over your shoulder. "Where is Cameron, anyway?"

You feel your heartbeat rage in your chest, tongue numb and mind in disarray. 

"Don't be a dick, Aron. They're my friends." You bristle. But he seems unfazed, lazily quirking an eyebrow. 

"Please don't tell me you're that stupid, Y/N. Friends?" He laughs obnoxiously. "I get you're in love with the guy, but you run around for them like a maid. You ask me, the least you should be getting out of it is a good fuck."

Your fingers twitch at your side as you shoot up from your seat, really and truly considering that pouring his beer over his head might be the best option.

Given that Aron routinely takes up two parking spots to park his Range Rover and cheats on his girlfriends, you think it might be a long time coming. 

His words hurt for more than one reason. Of course, because he'd sooner die than recognize that you very much could maintain a healthy, platonic, and meaningful relationship with your friends of over a decade.

But also because, when it came to Rafe, he was goading you with a kind of intimacy you knew you'd never be able to access. At least not in the way you wanted. 

When a firm hand grips Aron's shoulder strongly and whips his body around, you soon realize you don't have to resort to such a physical display. 

While it was true that Rafe's face didn't make him look particularly kind, he'd only been seriously pissed off, to the point that his stomach felt like caving in on itself, a few times. Like in those months right after he'd graduated high school and felt like a big question mark. Every time his dad looked at him disapprovingly, it affirmed that sinking feeling in him, and he learned that he sometimes articulated his sadness in anger.

These days when he's mad, he mulls the feeling over a few times in the interest of scraping for another feeling underneath. 

Now, though, all Rafe feels when he meets Aron's arrogance with an intensity of his own, is unbridled rage. 

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Rafe speaks at a low register that makes your breath quicken. His movements are a little clumsy, blue eyes slightly glazed over, and his dirty blonde hair kisses his forehead that's speckled with sweat. Cheeks dusted red in that way that you love, more prominent when he's inebriated.

His fingers are still pressing harshly into Aron's shoulder, pressure concentrated and steady if the way he winces is any indication. For a second, his eyes flit over to you and the frown on your face, and they begin to soften. But then Aron is sputtering and stealing his attention and he hates him all over again for it. 

"My bad, bro." Aron offers lamely, hands jutting upward in surrender. He attempts to step away, but Rafe keeps him locked there. 

"Yeah, it's your fucking bad, bro." Rafe sneers.

He roughly shoves Aron backwards as he lets go of him and the man quickly scurries away knowing that if he sticks around, Rafe will probably force him through clenched teeth to apologize to you.

You feel your heart hammering in your chest for a different reason.

Your mind is trapped in a loop, repeating every word you said to Aron over and over again, wondering how incriminating they were, and debating how much exactly Rafe had heard.

And if he had, if he was coherent enough to either dismiss or believe the accusation that you loved him. No, not love, you shudder... in love. Aron had said, verbatim, that you were in love with him. 

"I would've handled it." You mumble with your arms crossed over your chest.

Rafe sighs as he turns his body to face you, rubbing a hand over his jaw, now partially relieved of the tension it was holding. He chews on his bottom lip cautiously, like it'll help break the fall of the words bound to spill out of his mouth, a little too unrestrained in his drunk state for his liking. 

"I know that." He nods slowly. "I just wanted to help to help you... handle it."

He stumbles a little as he moves toward you and you instinctively wrap an arm behind his torso, holding him against your body as a human splint. 

"Plus, I kinda have a reputation going for me. No one's losing their shit if I fight a guy."

"Or two." You say pointedly, thinking about his almost altercation with John B. earlier in the night. 

Rafe buries his head into your shoulder, groaning loudly into the bare skin as it heats up and vibrates. 

"Fuck, not you, too."

He lifts his head up to continue, and you lug his body towards the living room where you spot Topper talking with Kelce and some others. Without speaking, Topper seems to understand what you're saying, nodding then pointing to himself followed by the stairs. 

He'd driven you to Kelce's and you promised to stay sober and drive him back home. But now, it seemed like the plan was going to shift.

Topper would stay the night at Kelce's and take his car back in the morning. You would take Rafe's truck back to his place and walk the rest of the way. You were practically neighbours, anyway. 

"If she wants to talk shit about me to her boyfriend, that's one thing. But him, talking shit about me, to her? What's he trying to do? Turn my own sister against me?" 

"I get it, Rafe. I really do." You nod, an amused smile on your lips as you tug him out of the front door and towards his truck. "But you promised Sarah you'd be nice, remember?"

"I am being nice." He protests with his hands tapping at his chest. "I didn't even fucking touch him."

You scoff lightly as you strap Rafe in his passenger seat, noting the way his eyes begin to flutter shut. Humming softly, you poke a cold finger at his cheek and watch as they blink open again. 

"I'm taking you home, okay?" You murmur gently. 

"No!" He objects, large hand circling your wrist. He rubs his forehead with the other one, trying to remember something. "Got a meeting in the morning. Ward is gonna flip if he thinks I've been out all night fucking around."

You look at him uncertainly, waiting for the thing that you don’t want him to say, but know he will.

"Your house? Please?"

There was a time when sleepovers with Rafe were a common practice. Sometimes, after parties like this, with Kelce and Topper.

Other times when you convinced the boys to binge a new movie or TV series, usually ending with at least two of them falling asleep. Rafe made a habit of grumbling his critiques of the things he watched, but always stayed up with you. 

For a while, when he hit an especially rough patch with his dad and spent more nights than he would've liked getting high out of his mind.

As much as he'd tried not to pull anybody else into it, he found himself seeking comfort in the warmth of your bed. It helped that you always received him with open arms, even when his early morning phone calls were disorienting and he cried silently into your shirt in the hours after. 

Those nights felt so distant, and yet, like you could touch them if you reached out just far enough.

Rafe had girlfriends on and off, and sometimes that version of him felt like a stranger. You felt a strange pity for yourself when you realized that it might've been a good thing. That he was getting better and without falling back on a crutch, even if that crutch was you. Suddenly, him sleeping at your house felt weird and misplaced more than anything else. 

"I don't know, Rafe...," you begin to trail off, but the blue desperation in his eyes makes you reconsider. He's still holding tenderly at your wrist. "Fine. But if you puke on my sheets, you're done. Do you hear me?" 

Whether or not Rafe hears you is unclear, but you take the delirious smile forming on his lips as a non-verbal affirmation. He huffs out a long breath as if he can feel himself finally relaxing. His eyes start to close again, too, as you start his truck and drive the short way to your house. 

"Don't even think about falling asleep on me, Cameron. I am not lugging you up the stairs."

"You're strong." He reasons smoothly, lids still shut as he smirks. "You were about to deck the shit out of Aron Andersen when I found you."

Getting Rafe up to your bedroom goes better than you'd imagined, now with a few years of experience under your belt. 

You get him to sit down on your bed, and he fiddles with the items on your nightstand while you rummage through your armoire for an old pair of his pajamas. He complains when you throw him a pair of sweatpants and a sports t-shirt he used to wear in junior high, claiming that it'd be too tight over his arms and chest.

Plus, he'd added, it was far too hot to be wearing a shirt, anyway. 

"I love these." 

Changing into sweats of your own, you exit the bathroom to find Rafe sitting up in your bed, part of his bare torso obscured by your white sheets. His attention is fixed on a small group of rings on your bedside table, silver and gold hues reflecting under the dull rays of your lamp.

He slowly picks one up.

"Yeah, I'd hope so." You snort, tentatively slipping into bed next to him and painfully aware of the sorry excuse for space between you. "You got them all for me... kook."

Rafe cracks a sleepy smile, rolling his eyes playfully.

"You wouldn't tell me which one you wanted." He shrugs like it's the simplest thing in the world. 

He sets the ring back on the table and switches off your lamp, blanketing the room in a stroke of darkness. Rafe lies on his back and you opt to turn to your side, facing the wall.

Looking at his face only a few inches away from yours, when he's about to sleep in your bed, feels like it will be too much. 

"Asking for what you want is weird, Rafe. Nobody likes it."

You chew on your bottom lip in the dark.

"I do." He says in a scoff that turns into a yawn. "How else is anyone gonna know? People don't usually stop you and beg to find out."

You swallow roughly. That was true enough, they didn't.

But Rafe did. He always did. You revered him for it.

There's a long silence between you and all that echoes against the wood framing of your bed are the heavy and sometimes irregular sounds of your and Rafe's breathing.

Against your better judgement, you think he might've fallen asleep and almost turn around to check. 

"Is it me?" He asks quietly, voice scratchy with exhaustion. "... what you want?"

You feel your shaky breath hitch in your throat. 

"Because if it is... you don't have to ask."

His words linger in the air for as long as it takes your wildly beating hard to calm down.

By the time your body regains some feeling, the sound of Rafe's soft snores pierce the oddly crisp air clouding your room, and the choice to unpack what he said right now, or in the morning, is made for you. 

A shiver runs down from the nape of your neck to the tips of yours toes. 

Rafe is gone by the time you wake up.

The harsh but comforting sound of rain clangs against your roof, and you stretch your limbs to the thought of a cloudy and obscure summer day. 

It's better this way, you think. The absence of Rafe's warmth next to you would feel worse if the sun was shining, teasing. 

Your fingers play underneath your comforter to locate your phone. Scrolling through your notifications, you frown seeing that none of them are from Rafe.

In his defense, it was only about 9AM now, and he'd probably just had enough time to take a quick shower, get himself the smallest bit presentable, and still barely make it to his meeting with a client.

The used bathroom towel in your hamper and flannel pajama pants hastily thrown on his side of the bed are compelling indicators. 

In his defense, he was drunk, and there was no telling if he remembered anything about last night. 

Drowsy proclamations of desire and confession, included. 

You wrestle with the idea of calling him and letting it all spill out.

Kissing him on your front lawn, in the rain, with dewy blades of grass nipping at your feet. Hands threading through his wet hair and tugging, hungrily, because you're starving and happy, and these are liberties you can afford in imagination.  

But you settle on seeing him later tonight, in person. It's your dad's charity after all. 

"I just wish you would have told me earlier." Your disappointed words hang in the air for a few moments as you play with the hem of your silky baby blue dress.

Your father had mentioned to you once before that his new business partner had a son about your age, newly graduated from UC Irvine. 

He hadn't mentioned, though, that this mystery guy would be attending the charity tonight, and he'd offered you up as his own personal tour guide.

Your father hadn't used the word date explicitly, but that's what it felt like when you were handed an odd-smelling bouquet of flowers, standing awkwardly next to the brunette who you were apparently to keep the company of all night, though he might as well have been a stranger. 

Daniel was nice enough.

He complimented your dress and your makeup, smiled and pulled out your chair before you sat down at your assigned table.

But it felt weird accepting praise and chivalry from him when your heart was busy beating erratically at the simple thought that your dress matched Rafe's eyes.  

The venue is extravagant like it always is, what with it's elaborate crystal chandeliers, ice sculptures, and floral center pieces larger than your head. 

At your table, you note your and Daniel's name cards labeling your seats. Next to them, are Topper, Kelce, and Rafe's. There's a sixth seat that has no label and you tilt your head to the side thoughtfully, considering that Topper or Kelce must be bringing a date. 

"This place is incredible. Your dad is so impressive." Daniel says in awe from the seat next to you. His eyes trail around the room, wide in amazement, reflecting back all the vibrant lights in the brown of his pupils.

You smile weakly at him, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear that always seems to take flight despite your attention to detail.

"Yeah, he's really something. Likes to orchestrate a big show. You should see him at the winter ball. Live doves, and everything." 

Daniel nods, moving on to say something that starts to sound unintelligible when something else piques your interest. Someone else. Multiple someones, entering the banquet hall. 

Craning your neck, you make out Topper and Rafe. And a girl. 

No. Topper... and Rafe and a girl. She has her arm tucked around Rafe's as he escorts her in the direction of your table. He's wearing the grey tux you like, the one he wore to Rose's sister's wedding with the ornate thread detailing. His smile makes the two halves of your heart squeeze together. 

"Hey, you okay? You're squeezing that wine glass pretty tight there."

Daniel likely means well, eyeing the way your fist clenches around the stem of the glass you've yet to take a sip from. You shoot him an embarrassed smile and release your straining fingers.

An emotional support water bottle sounds like it would be really nice right now. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little nervous... my dad always gives a speech at these things." You explain.

As the trio begins to approach, you realize it's Shelley Thompson gripping Rafe's arm, a sweet girl you knew from the Kook Academy.

Even now, she always waves when you run into her at the Island Club, and she has a swing on the golf course like no other.

She's a good match for Rafe. You hate to admit it, but it's true.

When Daniel speaks again, you can barely hear him.

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about." Daniel chuckles. "I have a hard time imagining that your dad would be bad at anything..."

Topper, having heard the tail-end of your conversation, plunks himself down in the chair across from yours and rubs his forehead tiredly. You shudder at the way he smiles empathetically at you. Like there's something to be consoled about. 

"Hangover?" You ask, shoving the shaky feeling down and shooting him a teasing smirk.

He groans loudly and buries his face in his hands.

"That's the understatement of the year. Feels like I'm getting my skull bashed in." He mutters through the skin, then he peels his head away and grimaces at the screechy music being played. If there was one thing your dad was bad it, it was decent music taste. Topper laughs heartily, shaking his head. "Then again, maybe I am." 

The lightheartedness is interrupted for a moment as Rafe and Shelley pull up to the table, taking their seats accordingly. Rafe rakes his eyes over Daniel for a few seconds, but otherwise stays silent and it makes you frown. You look at him, desperately trying to uncover if he remembers any details from last night, but his expression is unreadable.

Shelley, on the other hand, grins at you enthusiastically and starts to chat with you about the time she interned at your dad's company. 

You find yourself glancing at Rafe every so often, each time catching him staring blankly ahead or at his lap, and always fidgeting with his fingers. 

"Who's this?" He asks suddenly, nodding his head at the man next to you. 

"Oh." You swallow. "This is Daniel."

Finding that insufficient, Daniel takes it as an opportunity to formally introduce himself. 

"That's me." Daniel waves sheepishly, gently squeezing your shoulder with his other hand. "Y/N's been showing me around. Well, her and her dad. I really love what Mr. Y/L/N's been doing with his company. He does some incredible work out here. It's not often that you see-,"

Topper snickers when he cuts him off. 

"Maybe he should've been your date."

Daniel laughs it off, blushing slightly and concealing it in a short cough. But you kick Topper under the table in retaliation, ignoring the way he holds his shin and groans out a soft "Ow!". 

After that, Shelley, Topper, and Daniel divulge into conversation, shifting from topic to topic and at some points, sharing boisterous laughs together.

Rafe keeps his lips pressed together and his words concise. While you fiddle with your utensils, you feel his eyes on you, igniting heat under your skin. 

He stares at you hard, like he's waiting for you to say something. Begging, even, with the way his forehead tenses and his brow stays quirked.

But you didn't know what to say.

Or maybe you didn't know how to say it. Especially not here. Especially not when he had a date. 

Rafe rolls his eyes and chews on the inside of his cheek, standing from the table abruptly, the movement making the cutlery tremble.

"Hey, I have an idea." He says while tugging on Shelley's hand. "Let's dance."

You watch as Shelley squeals with excitement, jumping from her seat to follow Rafe towards the center of the large room where the music is playing. 

"Couldn't pay me to get closer to that band." Topper mumbles offhandedly. You're sure he's trying to make it sting less, but some pains don't have a perfect antidote. 

Daniel sends you a look, silently asking if you want to join them. 

"Maybe later." You reply quietly. 

Watching Rafe wrap his arm around Shelley's waist, you feel your heart sink slowly into your stomach.

In the middle of Daniel's rambling and Topper's occasional acknowledging hums, you rise from your seat and stumble into the courtyard for some fresh air.

Surely, your heart would keep sinking if you saw any more, and your heels were too tight to fit anything else. 

The courtyard is a beautiful mix of greenery, fairy lights, and concrete statues, but it does little to ease the ache in your chest. You sit on a stone bench and try to control your breathing with your head between your knees. 

Though it's turbulent and shallow at best.

"What's wrong?"

You know it's Rafe without looking up. Sighing into the palms of your hand, you slide them down from your face and lift your head up. Surely, your makeup is smudged, and the thought makes you more miserable.

"Nothing." You say more sharply than you intended. "Nothing's wrong. Just go away, Rafe."

He looks at you completely scandalized. 

"Are you... mad at me?"

You let out a deep breathe, averting your gaze to the ground as you collect yourself. "No, I'm not mad. Why would I be mad?"

Rafe scoffs, entirely unconvinced. He rakes a hand through his hair in frustration. 

"Well, fuck, if this is 'not mad', then I don't want to see what mad looks like." 

"Can you just drop it? Please, Rafe? Drop it?" You beg, sniffling slightly as you stand. You hadn't noticed when your cheeks started to get wet. Likely too much in denial.

Despite the way it's honoured you in the past, crying was offering no release at this point. It's not like any of this was Rafe's fault. Even if he had gotten your hopes up last night, he wasn't obligated to act on drunken pillow talk. Maybe he hadn't meant it in the first place and was only trying to make you feel better.

"You won't talk to me." He says sadly.

You bite down on every explanation you want to give him. Chest pain heavy and unrelenting.

"Just... go back to Shelley, Rafe. She's probably waiting for you."

Rafe looks puzzled when the words fall weakly out of your mouth.

Then, he nods, like something finally clicks for him. He meets your eyes with fervor as he presses his lips together.

"So, this is about Shelley?" He asks.

Your head hangs and silence intensifies between you. It speaks for itself.

"The same Shelley that's been fucking Kelce on and off for the past two years?"

He watches your mouth fall open and eyebrows furrow, continuing as you stare at him.

"Kelce promised to take her out on a real date, but then he got caught up at work... asked me to keep Shelley company until he showed up. We didn't come here together, together, Y/N. I thought you knew that." 

Your mind buzzes as he speaks, bottom lip wedged under your teeth.

So, he wasn't here with Shelley. And he probably did remember both what he heard and said last night if he could recognize that you were jealous.

Jealous. It makes you squeeze your eyes shut. The feeling was always two-fold. A person would feel jealous, then humiliated that they had. You don't know which one is worse.

You peak an eye open, chewing through your words. "Why couldn't Topper do it?" 

"Have you met Topper?"

That was a good point. 

Still reeling from the new information, you look down at your lap pensively.

"But you did." Rafe begins after a few beats of silence. When you frown in confusion, he clarifies. "... come here with someone."

You crane your neck up to look at him. There's something you can't place in his eyes, but it's cloudy and all-consuming. His hair is a mess from the way he's been ruffling through it, and his cheeks are flushed and tight.

"What, Daniel? Are you kidding me? I only brought him because my dad ask-," you begin to explain, but Rafe cuts you off. 

"I don’t care why he thinks he can touch you. I just want him to stop.”

Despite the small gust of wind that blows past you both, you feel a warmth at the base of your neck... in the palms of your hands. Maybe it was the beams of light overhead, illuminating your bodies amidst the greenery.

Or, maybe it was just Rafe's words.

The intensity of his gaze. The way he steps towards you as he speaks them, warm hand eventually reaching out to graze over your cheek in a way that makes you gasp in a mixture of shock and excitement. 

For a moment, you think about yourself and the many soul-crushing nights spent watching Rafe talk to and touch and kiss other people, the overlapping visuals making you queasy. 

"I know the feeling." You say quietly, hot breath fanning over his face.

Rafe frowns a little, soaking up the meaning of your words. He nudges his face closer to yours, until your noses are touching and his lips just barely graze over the pair he desperately wants to taste. He draws back suddenly, suspending all the air in your lungs. 

He eyes you cautiously, challenging silently as he licks his lips.

"Not gonna do anything unless you ask." 

You nearly cry out in response. "Rafe, please. I... I want you." Ignoring the way your desperation makes your skin feel tingly and your head spin, you shut your eyes tightly, realizing that only really skimmed the surface. You try again, gulping. "I've always wanted you."

"Fuck." He breathes out, eyes fluttering shut. "Never stop saying that." 

Stifling the sound of another whine from your lips, Rafe kisses you feverishly.

He moves his soft lips in tandem with yours, swallowing each of your breathy moans. One of his hands traces over the swell of your jaw while the other stretches tenderly around your throat. "Know what I wanted to do when I saw you sitting there next to him?" 

You nearly scream in protest when Rafe pulls his lips off yours, but fall silent when he trails kisses down from your jaw to your neck and collarbones, sloppily sucking the skin then laving his tongue over the afflicted areas. Unsatisfied until your pushing his head away from the sensitivity. 

"Wanted to knock his fucking teeth out." He murmurs with his head buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and leaving searing kisses. "But I don't do that shit anymore. So I'll ruin his night a different way."

Rafe moves your body with his until the backs of your knees hit the concrete bench. Your mouth falls open as he sits you down on it, kneeling in front of you. He presses a ticklish kiss to your knee and his bright blue eyes peer up at you through his lashes. When you nod, he parts your thighs and pulls your panties down in a single unbroken movement, committing every second to memory.

He stares longer than he should, groaning at the way your wetness collects on his finger when he traces a finger over your slit, spreading you apart. 

"Can't believe," he moans into your mound, running the flat of his tongue over your center again and again. "... you kept me from this pussy for so long." 

You throw your head back at the sensation, finding nothing but air and Rafe to support you as pulls you closer to his mouth.

"That," you say in a broken moan at the feeling of Rafe's tongue inside you. "That's your fault, remember? I was always here — shit! Waiting for you.”

Rafe hums against your pussy at that, neither agreeing or disagreeing. His nose nudges your clit as he tastes you greedily. You tug at his hair to dissipate some of the energy building inside your core, but it only makes Rafe work harder. 

"Didn't think I deserved you." He admits, pink lips mesmerizing and wet with your slick and his spit. Rafe takes your clit into his mouth and sucks obscenely, the slurping sound sending a flash of heat through you. "Doesn't matter now. I'm good at making up for lost time..."

Your thighs clamp around Rafe's head as he fucks you with his tongue. It's only now, as gasps and high-pitched sounds fall wantonly from your lips that you come to the reality that you're letting Rafe eat you out in the courtyard, and anybody from the party could come here and find you. Still, you moan less controlled than you would have hoped when he suckles at your clit again, drinking at your sopping pussy.

"Hey, have some common decency, huh? There's some very nice people in there trying to enjoy a party." 

Rafe smirks when you pull at his hair even harder, mostly at the thought that you think it could be reprimanding when he likes it so much. His teasing does more to turn you on than you'd care to admit and he can tell with the way you gush around him.

"One of em's your date." He adds, laughing slightly as he curls his tongue inside you. Entranced at the way it makes you whimper and writhe like putty under him. He starts rubbing your clit with his thumb at the same time, chasing the crest of your orgasm. "C'mon, baby. Give it to me. Come all over my tongue." 

Your release makes your back rise off of the slab of cement you're seated on, thighs slotted over Rafe's shoulders as he licks you through your climax.

The pleasure is insurmountable, your mouth falling open and your eyes screwing shut as that familiar feeling completely overwhelms your senses, the burn of your elbows against the cement keeping you anchored to the ground. 

Rafe smiles when you pull him by the belt of his dress pants to capture his mouth in a long and sweet kiss. It helps clean up the residual wetness. 

By the time Kelce makes it your father's charity event, he sighs tiredly into the crown of Shelley's head, pressing a wet kiss there in greeting. On his way in, he got trapped in a conversation with your father and some guy he'd never seen before named Daniel who was more inclined to kiss your dad's ass than he was to breathe.

Finally taking his seat next to a very drunk Topper, he squints his eyes at the sight before him. You and Rafe, unable to keep your hands off each other, giggling at nothing in particular. And when not giggling, kissing.

"Are you seeing this shit?" Kelce asks Topper, gesturing towards his two closest friends shoving their tongues down each other's throats. Shamelessly, at that.

"Dude." Topper groans, sighing like this was no surprise to him. "Where the fuck have you been?"

a/n: thank you for reading! comments/reblogs appreciated!!

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks x reader #rafe x reader #i love writing completely ridiculous and unhinged side characters #topper too i always make him so weird LMAO #this is a lil rough around the edges but !! whatevrrr

[hedgehog-moss]

Loved your mentioning of learning poetry by heart: this is something I haven’t done since school! What are some of your favs that you’d suggest to ease my brain back into it?

(Française ici donc les options 🇫🇷 autant que anglais sont welcome :) merci!)

Hi :) You can look at the poem tag of my quote blog if you want—some of the ones I've learnt by heart (or excerpts from them) include this one by Sara Teasdale - Nanao Sakaki - Velimir Khlebnikov - Wallace Stevens - Rabindranath Tagore - Archibald Macleish - Howard Nemerov - and these paragraphs by Henri Peña-Ruiz which I consider prose poetry... My favourite French verses (from Corneille, Aragon, Anna de Noailles, Hugo, Valéry...) are all alexandrines and I find it to be the easiest type of verse to remember, as the structure is so rigorous and consistent. I sometimes translate English poems into alexandrines (like this one) to make them easier to learn in this more familiar form—I think even after all this time English prosody still feels foreign to me; the patterns of sound and rhythm in French are more deeply embedded in my brain so it can more easily predict what comes next...

Re: easing your brain into it, I guess that depends on your style of learning? For me the best way to learn a text is to spend time with it in written form, be it by translating it, or by writing it down by hand (slowly) and then (sometimes) keeping it for a while in a place where I often stand idle, like taped to my microwave so I re-read it as I wait 1 minute for something to heat up.

One thing I like about learning poems is that it's a costless, always-accessible way to get a sense of personal accomplishment. Beyond that, I've got three categories of poems I like to learn for different reasons—I'll go into some detail in case it can help you figure out what you're after :)

1. Classic poetry, because it's just fun to have little snippets of ancient tragedies or epic Victor Hugo poems living at the back of your mind and accompanying you through your own everyday tragedies—as an overdramatic person who tends to feel devastated or exasperated over tiny stuff, it helps me to take some distance from my feelings. Like if I spill a bucket of manure on my boots and my first reaction is rage and despair and my second thought is a couple of verses by Euripides where Iphigenia bemoans her relentless fate, it's a way to make fun of (and get over) myself.

My grandmother did this a lot, she knew so many poems by heart and often used them ironically. If I went whining to her when I was little she'd recite to me the last few verses of Alfred de Vigny's La Mort du Loup (it sounds better in the original but):

[...] With all your being you must strive To that highest degree of stoic pride [...] Weeping or praying—all this is in vain. You must instead shoulder your long and heavy task In the way that Destiny has seen fit to ask Then suffer and die without complaint.

(Let me tell you, that's just what a five-year-old wants to hear after scratching her knee at the park) But really I admired this treasury of poetry she carried within her, especially as she only went to school until age 14 and came upon most of it thanks to her own curiosity; as well as the way she used it playfully in everyday life, using dramatic classical verse to de-dramatise minor annoyances.

2. Nature poems are great in the opposite way, to magnify minor positive things :) Like seeing a fox and having a few lines by Mary Oliver come to mind, seeing a frog and thinking of that Basho haiku... I recently discovered Jean-Michel Maulpoix and I also love his nature poems, like 'The recovery of blue after a downpour', the way he describes snow melting in the spring, or golden-blue evenings:

[Snow] takes some time to leave, but delicately. She doesn’t insist, hardly persists, never roots… She gives way. No one else dies so merrily With such good humour Unmatched is her disdain for eternity…

L’azur, certains soirs, a des soins de vieil or. Le paysage est une icône. Il semble qu’au soleil couchant, le ciel qui se craquelle se reprenne un instant à croire à son bleu.

3. And then there are the poems that proudly serve no purpose. <3 I mean beyond distilling language in a beautiful way. No deep meaning—or no meaning at all, e.g. surrealist poetry. I learnt this passage from Les Champs magnétiques back in middle school:

La fenêtre creusée dans notre chair s'ouvre sur notre cœur. On y voit un immense lac où viennent se poser à midi des libellules mordorées et odorantes comme des pivoines. Quel est ce grand arbre où les animaux vont se regarder ? Il y a des siècles que nous lui versons à boire. . . Prisonniers des gouttes d'eau, nous ne sommes que des animaux perpétuels. . . Nous ne savons plus rien des astres morts ; nous regardons les visages. . . Quelquefois, le vent nous entoure de ses grandes mains froides et nous attache aux arbres découpés par le soleil.

—and I've often recited it to myself just to enjoy these gratuitously nice sentences that aren't here to deliver information. Like Kay Ryan said, "Poetry makes nothing happen. That's the relief of it." It's a nice break, a way to remember that communicating isn't all language is for; beyond the social dimension there's also an intimate one that relies on our own aesthetic sensitivity. Most of the time we look through language, to access ideas, meanwhile enjoying poetry means looking at language, for a change, appreciating it for itself.

I just realised I'm paraphrasing John Brehm here—in The Poetry of Impermanence he wrote something that can be read as an ode to learning things by heart:

When you read lines that seem especially lit up—that move or intrigue you in some way, or that are simply pleasing or even dazzling—don’t focus on being able to formulate a statement about what they might mean, as if you might be called upon to explain the poem, to yourself or to someone else. Just linger with those poems or passages that resonate with you. . . Rest your mind on them; let them live inside you.

#ask #poetry

[charg3rs0ck3t]

Faux promises and secret solaces.

Killian jones x reader

Warnings: it’s once upon a time, that’s the only warning you’ll need.

This is not proofread. There will probably be mistakes and I will fix them!

———————————————————————

You met him in the enchanted forest.

You fell for him in Neverland.

You lost him in Storybrooke.

You found him in your heart.

———————————————————————

The first time you met Hook, you could tell he was trouble.

He did him self no favours in trying to not be suspicious, but the others needed him so you held your tongue. Although, this was despite how much you truly wanted to rip out his tongue and shove it somewhere the sun doesn’t shine.

The way he’d take glances at you and smirk if you were walking close by, would make backhanded compliments, flirt to get his way, pick winning sides, he was a pirate. He was a pirate and you hated him. You hated his kind.

He was exactly the sort of man Regina would have used in her pursuit of ‘revenge’, the exact sort of man that killed your father.

But he wasn’t, no matter how many times he would breathily chuckle at some comment or some face you had made, you had to hold yourself back. You had to stop yourself from killing the man who smoothly laughed even in the face of his own demise. You had to stop from wanting to punch him in the throat and strip him of that feathery and deep chortle that took away all of your fears, that freed you of your panic, and provided you a euphoria that you had personally forbidden.

He was bad for you, bad for this team, bad for this mission.

He was a bad guy.

He was a villain,

and villains don’t get happy endings.

Leaving him behind was something you and Emma had talked about, you knew she also held distrust of him. Luckily, she had already planned on abandoning him.

The bean stalk was a stroke of luck, Anton was a stroke of luck.

Sure, you felt a slight sense of remorse as you had distracted him. But, as soon as Emma has attached that shackle, you let out a breath that you didn’t even know was there. Something felt good about going back to your life of solace, your newfound life of grief. He was too wild, too unpredictable, it scared you more than anyone would ever know.

You had fully expected not to see him again.

But fate seemed to have a sense of humour.

Such a fickle thing.

———————————————————————

Going back to Storybrooke, nothing was the same.

Your life had changed.

You didn’t know if it was for the better.

But your life had changed, your old life was gone. You had to adapt. No more was it straight lines and schedules, none of the life that Regina had provided was there, instead it was constant fights and unpredictability.

You had to become as unpredictable as the dangers you faced. You turned to the memories of the man in the enchanted forest, his power hidden behind his nonchalance and his loyalty a question left unanswered.

However much you hated the man, you needed to channel some part of him to adapt, to evolve and to overcome. The curse was broken, but danger seemed ever present. The towns memories were returned, but so were their worries, their fears, their anger. Instability was the first sign of anarchy and chaos, one weakness could enact a revolution among the people. So you did as you would, a child of a royal knight, ever loyal to Snow and Prince Charming, one of whom had raised you as a child throughout the curse.

All you had was your friends and your loyalty, but you’d soon learn that wasn’t enough.

———————————————————————

Yet the man returned, Hook. Still as untrustworthy as ever and yet, he seemed less irritating when in Storybrooke, except maybe for his dangerous tendencies and antisocial behaviour.

Henry being taken by pan was devastating, but this was the unpredictability you had planned for. So you knew what to do.

———————————————————————

The ride to Neverland on the Jolly Rodger was less than pleasant. It was full of cryptic warnings and misdirected anger. Even Emma was struggling.

The mermaid that was soon brought above deck definitely didn’t help your nerves, nor did the storm that soon followed and berated the ship.

You could catch no one’s attention, you had figured that the warnings may have held some truth. This land was built on belief. There were definitely some strong negative beliefs between them all. The blame fest began, fighting ensued and you couldn’t take it. So as you searched through the rain, you caught sight of land and jumped overboard. Your thoughts were that if no one would listen, you’d at least catch someone’s attendance or make your own way to land without them.

What you didn’t account for was a bit of broken barrel being launched after you and slamming into the back of your head once you had reached the ice cold water.

Losing your breath and all reasonable thinking, you gaped your mouth like a fish, breathing in and spluttering out water to no avail.

You could feel it filling your lungs and your eyes began to close, focused on the blurry light of the moon above you, till it was covered by the shadow of someone diving in for you. But by then you were already too tired.

———————————————————————

Opening your eyes and coughing out liquid from your burning lungs seemed to have never felt so good. That was until you saw it was a particular irritating man that hovered over your jolting form, hand on your shoulder as he helped you sit up.

The storm has calmed now, and you smiled. Everyone’s focus was on you, eyes wide at the madness that had ensued.

“Hey! Don’t look at me like that! See! I got the storm to stop.” You proclaimed in a broken voice, interrupted slightly by a coughing fit and a small ‘thank you’ as you were passed a blanket.

The way that David and Snow stared at you was obvious you’d get some form of scolding later, but you hadn’t cared too much for it. When the curse was first broken, they had to double check you weren’t in some way related to Jefferson with how you often acted on impulse, in supposed madness. So rest assured you were used to scolding.

Getting to the island was your priority, keeping the team together and getting Henry was your number one goal.

But you could help but notice the glances the pirate would send you when he thought you weren’t looking.

———————————————————————

Neverland was a place of pure belief. A place of magic and miracles.

———————————————————————

It seemed like as if by some miracle, you started to believe in the sincerity and goodness of a certain pirate.

Hook was caring, he was careful and serious. He was always suited to the situation, always ready. But he could also lighten the mood.

It seemed all the time that wasn’t spent avidly searching for Henry, fighting Pan or planning, he always wanted to make you laugh.

The first time you had laughed at one of his jokes, it would have been some stupid joke about his hand.

“Can you give me a hand?” David had yelled over.

“Cmon really? Last time I lent one out I didn’t even get it back!” He had hollered back in response, turning to smirk at David’s glare.

Only.. only he spun right back around when he heard a small chuckle.

Seeing you, with your back turned to him and hand coving your mouth, was all he needed to decide that you were right for him. He walked over to David with a huge smile on his face and kept stealing glances at you the entire time.

———————————————————————

Getting Henry, finding Neal alive, dealing with Rumpelstilsken. Everything felt insane.

It was all too much, you had lost Henry again to Pan, he was too powerful and you all seemed powerless.

You pulled your legs to your chest and buried your head in your knees. Making yourself small was all you could do when the world felt so big around you that it felt like it would swallow you up and you’d be nothing but a snack to a bigger cause.

Feeling a soft hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality, the reality that you had been sat sobbing into your arms after you had ran off from the main camp.

At first you were afraid, was this hand malicious, was it Pan?

But after hearing a feathery throat clearing, you raised your head to meet eyes with Killian.

“Killian? What’s up? I thought you’d be with David or Emma.” You muttered out in response to his presence.

“Y’know, I’m not sure Miss swan or her doting ‘same-age parents are too fond of me. Plus we both know that I can’t exactly tell one hand jokes to Regina lest I want to lose that and another appendage id much like to keep..” he takes a breath whilst you smile at his sarcasm. “Plus, You’re the only one who calls me my name, I’m getting sick of ‘Hey you’ ‘Oi’ ‘pirate’ or if they’re really creative, I get to hear ‘asshole’, would that be pleasant for you m’lady?” You laugh and shake your head in response.

“No, I suppose not kind sir~.” You tease him, just wanting to stay in the moment, it felt light and airy, for the first time in days you felt free. “Although I’m honoured you’d grace me with your presence, I sure hope it’s not because I’m the only one who doesn’t currently want to stab you?”

He turns to look at you, “Of course not, for a royal knight though, surely you should be the one to want to stab me most of all. Maybe it’d be better that way.” He moves in, close to your face, as you are enamoured with gazing into his eyes.

“I’m sure they can handle themselves, Four powerful people after you if you do anything wrong, I think I should be okay to try and resign from stabbing at the moment. Plus, if anything were to happen I’m sure I could accept the consequences.” He grabs your chin and smiles.

“You? Face the consequences? Perhaps you just are afraid to accept you might actually have fallen for me~” He pulls you into a short and passionate kiss. Grinning against your lips as he rests his forehead against your own.

“Not a chance pirate!” You tease as you stand up and begin to walk away, sporting a mischievous grin of your own.

But before you could walk further he grabbed your wrist and was suddenly stood right in front of you.

“Mark my words sweetheart, I’ll have your heart, we’ll take it as slow as you need but I will have it, as you’ve enslaved mine.” And as you turned your head away to think on what he had said, he had already walked off deeper into the forest.

Okay, maybe you did like him.

———————————————————————

Your return to Storybrooke was perfect, you could live the life you had whispered plans of every night since that moment in Neverland.

It was meant to be your fairytale ending.

Meant to be.

———————————————————————

Falling asleep every night, Hook would sit there hands running through your hair as you laid your head in his lap.

Every night he would repeat one sentence

“I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

Except one night, when he wasn’t.

You woke up one night. Checking the clock next to you it was some time around 1 in the morning.

You weren’t sure what had woken you up until you heard sounds of struggling and choking. It was Killian! He sounded in pain.

You rushed down to see Pans shadow ripping Killian’s as he struggled against the figure.

Catching a glimpse of you, the shadow tore the other from your lovers frame and stole them both. Dragging them from the home as you chased and screamed for help, for Killian, for anyone.

You pinched yourself, you screamed until your throat went raw and your mouth ran dry, you yelled and sobbed until you had half of the town surrounding you, trying to figure out what had happened.

In your worn voice you could get out two sentences.

“Pans back.” “Killian’s gone.”

That was all you could force out before you fell to the floor, soon encased in a warm pair of arms trying to lift you back into the house. The house that you had just lost everything in. The house that was meant to have been your home.

———————————————————————

It had been months since the incident, months of failed attempts and grieving.

But you had had enough of being sad.

Nothing was going to save you, no one was going to save you, so you were going to save yourself.

One day you got up, took a shower, brushed your teeth and hair, and went into work.

Life had to continue as normal, you had to ignore the concerned glances and you had to hope the eye bags would go away on their own.

So life went on, it went on without him. Although it hurt, it needed to, the world couldn’t stop for another 28 years, everyone couldn’t just forget again.

However much you wished they could.

———————————————————————

Emma and David had been trying to interrogate the shadow for months now. They had decided to keep Regina’s torture methods away and just had to hope that a non physical being had some form of conscience.

In those months they had nothing.

Nothing until the shadow gave off a mirage, a realm of bodies and their shadows caring for them.

And in the middle of it all was him.

The man you cared about most.

Killian.

———————————————————————

Waking up to a breathy humming and the feeling of hands in your hair wasn’t unusual.

In your grief, you had accidentally began to see Killian. You’d see him every morning, you’d see him at dinner, you’d even make him an extra plate.

You knew he wasn���t real.

But you needed to cope somehow.

There was a hole in your heart and you couldn’t just fill it with a child like Regina could.

This morning felt real though, it felt too real. But it also felt too good to be true.

You opened your eyes to see him where he usually sat, next to you, hands in your hair playing with the strands.

“Why must you torture me every morning.” You muttered. “He’s gone and he’s never coming back.. I’m never gonna wake up to him ever again so just! Just go away!”

You yelled.

You’ve been yelling at your hallucination of him a lot lately.

Usually he’d disappear, actually, every single time he’d disappear. But you turned around from where you were now sat up and he was still there.

He stared at you, tears in his eyes, reaching out for your cheek. He needed to touch you again.

“Killian..?” You whimpered out.

“I told you I’d be here when you woke up” he said, tears streaming down his face as he tackled you and held you in his arms.

You both sobbed. You cried like you hadn’t seen each-other in years. You held each-other like the other would slip out of grasp and disappear again.

You were here.

He was here.

You had him back, you had your home and he had your heart.

And in his heart he knew he’d never let you go ever again.

#once upon a time #ouat #ouat fluff #ouat hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #fluff #angst #killian jones x reader #killian jones #ouat x reader #x reader #captain hook x reader #captain hook

[thenationofzaun]

Jinx joking about the night she accidentally killed half of her family.

I love her wickedly sick sense of humour so much. The events of that night irrevocably damaged her, she carries a devastating amount of guilt over the boys' deaths at her hand, and she will carry it until the day she dies..... but will that stop her from finding the dark humour in what happened and using the twisted irony of her own trauma to torment her prey? Not at all!

She has zero respect for Sevika and enforcers, to her they're not worthy of seeing her guilt and vulnerabilities. With Sevika she even pretends to be ashamed then sneezes and plays the whole thing off as a joke (imagine trying to taunt someone about the worst mistake of their life that killed their family, but they just laugh in your face lmao. "You screwed up and killed your own family" "HAHA I know!! Fucked up right :D").

That incident caused her so much shame, but she has no problem laughing it off and putting on a pretense of remorselessness towards people she's disdainful towards.

She's such a bastard, I love her.

#the only people allowed to see her shame and guilt and regret are Silco and Vi #to everyone else she acts like a brat who doesn't give a flying fuck. legend #jinx #arcane #arcane jinx #sevika #arcane netflix

[luvring]

YOUR TOUCHSTARVED HCS ARE GOD TIER I DON’T KNOW HOW YOU CAPTURED THEM SO WELL WITH JUST THE DEMO

If you want, could I ask for some with Vere and Kuras?? I feel in love with them in the demo and am in desperate need of more toushstarved content

GENERAL KURAS HCS

gn!reader | ?!!?!! GIGGLES..THANK U THANK U a girl never shares her secrets 😍🤫😘 jk ive shared characterization tips at Some point. KURAS TIME!!! ;3c

has a sense of humour where if you say something silly he Does find it amusing,, he just has a calm + direct demeanor. "can i climb you like a tree" > he blinks because he's caught off guard but smiles anyway. says you could definitely try, but he thinks it might be more effective to just pick you up, no?

the Look the others give him when he says a joke You often say that just...does not match him at all. awesome

he'd get you flowers. not in a bouquet of red roses way but in an i checked the meanings of all of these and personalized it to have your favourite colours and what you mean to me. i'll either explain to you the most devastating story of eternal love and our souls being intertwined or look at you and go :) who's to say what it means? and let you figure it out

next level putting things high up so you have to ask him for help. doesn't try to hide his amusement at all. "odd how it ended up there." ? Yeah i know right

but seriously if you're on the shorter side and you choose to get a chair instead of asking him he's a little upset. and worried. please don't hurt yourself

very serious if you hurt yourself or get sick. if you want to recover fast, let him take care of you. just know he's going to follow some strict rules to make sure you're healing as efficiently as possible

don't let this guy in the kitchen.... his lack of cooking skills make him very appreciative of any home cooked meals, and he knows some pretty good restaurants to make up for it

go ahead and hold onto kuras if you're stuck in a crowd again. like you Can trust him to not lose you, he meant that. but also he won't stop you from reaching for his hand/arm. asks if you're alright before continuing on

get him to relax by laying his head in your lap while you run your fingers through his hair

never minds bending down to kiss you. you can solve ths problem by getting him to sit down and standing between his legs by the way

forehead kisses are a go to!! and a hand on the small of your back

likes when the both of you talk about how your days went in the evening. i think he likes hearing about drama. he remembers names and stories and if he ever sees the person that pissed you off he's. a Little petty/passive-aggressive. he's really good at making it seem like it's accidental though. LOL

you know when you recommend something to someone and they figure out the big twist or mystery so fast you're like wtf. that's kuras. he pretends he doesn't know, especially the first few times, but eventually you just have to take the opportunity to make it a challenge. how fast can he do it y’know.

? glitter eyeshadow. give it a thought and come back to me.

morning person who gets breakfast for you by the time you're up

giving me words of affirmation and quality time vibes. inviting you out whenever he isn't working and making sure you know you're a priority... casually saying some kind of sincere, poetic praise..

sort of a dry texter but you know what. he's supportive. boyfriend who doesn't know what game you've started and are now incoherently ranting about but does his best to guess and support u. looks up the wiki to read about the characters and plot on his own time

when the game has a secret and kuras Offers a Suggestion. a Guess. and he's right. and ur like OMG :D and he :). pretends he didn't look it up because you told him you were stuck yesterday

#touchstarved game #touchstarved kuras #kuras x reader #🧾nia.answers #<3 anon #q

[vivantesopales]

so i made a tomarry rec list to convert my mutuals🍷

or: 10 fics i adore and the potion ingredients they taste of

What He Grows To Be | M, 260k | @k-s-morgan

A story of trust, remorse and the darker aspects of love. It is premised on one of the most beloved tomarry tropes – 'Harry time travels back to raise Tom' – and so Tom is given the chance to unlearn his frankly disastrous sense of entitlement and ultimately, to be reshaped by empathy and forgiveness. WHGTB is the perfect fic to get into tomarry if you're not quite sure what to expect from this ship, still wondering what their dynamic might look like, etc.

love is touching souls (surely you touched mine) | M, 34k | @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger

An accident takes Harry back to the winter of 1945, where he immediately captures the interest of a fresh-out-of-Hogwarts, not-yet-beyond-saving Tom. Their dynamic is deliciously intense from the start, with Harry being his usual sassy, dorky self that leaves Tom equally infuriated and intrigued. And Tom's arc, likewise, is beautifully crafted. Conversations about redemption, about remorse, are layered, thoughtful. Expect hurt/comfort, domestic softness, a devastating cliffhanger and an ending that will gently put you back together like a forehead kiss.

As Is The Father, So Is The Son | E, 4.5k | @this-is-your-heichou-speaking

An a/b/o royalty AU in which Tom (the Prince) is practically obsessed with Harry, who happens to be an omega boy from his father’s harem. This is undoubtedly one of the hottest smuts I’ve ever read, featuring lush prose, unapologetic, dub-con/non-con elements and an interesting take on “dark slutty Harry”. tl;dr: mind the tags; stay hydrated 💦🍆

breaking in through open doors | T, 1.4k | Brooding_Aunt

A unique, haunting read that is perfect for spooky seasons. Horror masterpiece. Goosebumps guaranteed. I won’t spoiler much but I urge you to give emo girl Harry a go (it makes a terrifying lot of sense in the context of the storytelling, I swear), and let her narrative haunt you.

Thirst | E, 27k | @obsidianpen

(Sexy) mind games with Horcrux!Tom …. Will he be motivated enough to let Harry out of the Lestrange Vault before Voldemort arrives? Another dark, chilling fic in which both Harry and Tom have their own weaknesses that the other seeks to explore, and hopefully to take advantage of, as they grapple for survival.

Memento Mori | E, 49k | @purplewitch156

Every time Harry dies, instead of boarding the train that will take him to the Afterlife, to his family, he chooses to return to the living world with Tom, who is unable go on. Four Lives, two idiots, one love story. There’s humour, there’s action, heartwarming moments and heartbreaking ones … basically, be prepared for all the feels that will take forever to recover from.

Wake From a Dream | T, 2.6k | @duplicitywrites

Cats and domestic tomarry (I am so ridiculously weak for this). Duplicity’s writing is gorgeous in that, within a smallish word count, we are given a glimpse of something profound, something vulnerable, subtly tucked into the lovely little interactions and the intimacy Harry and Tom share.

Hmm | G, 6.4k | Wolven_Spirits

‘Harry is a hummingbird animagus. Tom opens a flower shop just to attract his attention.’ That’s the fic summary – need I say more🥺?? There’s something so gentle and evocative (but also undeniably Slytherin) about Tom’s decision to devote himself to his flowers, to creating a safe space for Harry. Florist!Tom supremacy, is what I’m saying.

Man Down | T, 5k | @classlesstulip

It’s tagged as Mafia AU, but in all honesty this fic is, I must say, ‘Ghibli in gangster’s suit’ (affectionate). It’s hilarious (I genuinely laughed out loud quite a few times throughout the story), super adorable, and everything that makes a lovely pick-me-up fic.

What Happens In Vegas | E, 14k | @dividawrites

Sexy, decadent and intrinsically tomarry, this fic became an instant fave a few paragraphs in. Tom is super chaotic and his characterisation is perhaps one of the best I’ve ever read. Featuring a delicious age difference, thirsty brat Harry, DADA Professor Riddle (yes please) and size kink hello🥵 – all that executed through Divida’s sharp, witty writer’s voice! Really, Vegas is the ultimate dream.

#tomarry #tom riddle #harry potter #tomarry fanfiction #tom/harry #tomarry recs #hp fic rec #tomarry fic #tomarry au #opal's library

[ephemeralzenith]

TPW headcanons

i miss them so much(spoilers ahead)

if they were in the modern world, altan and rin would wear glasses and everyone would make fun of them. they would actually have abysmal eyesight even though they are super cool warriors.

also modern world; altan would be so technologically illiterate that everyone would make fun of him. hes like a grandpa, and rin (+ ramsa) would be obsessed with her phone. this is the only place nezha and altan would agree on!!! neither can use their phones and would have to ask rin and chaghan/the cike to help

altan and rin squabble like siblings over the dumbest stuff and then get over it in the next hour after swearing to everyone that they hate each other and would never talk to each other again. -> everyone is sick of their shit

conversely, nezha and altan also love fighting over shit!! altan mistrusts nezha bc.. yk, and nezha does not trust altan bc.. yk!! and rin is so done with them and she starts arguing with them too

kitay loves snakes and this freaks nezha out

altan has a phobia of spiders (i saw this somewhere else and it made sense)

ramsa and kitay are best friends. they are the chaotic duo. imagine it though… ramsa’s destructiveness and kitay’s gigantic brain. cross one of them and your room will smell like shit for the next three years.

qara and venka best friends!!!! i dont have any reasoning for this but they would be and gossip about everyone

altan and chaghan

during exam season, kitay would make fun of everyone else not being able to study easily like he can (not everyone can have a photographic memory, ok???) and everyone would tell him to shut the fuck up (he would not)

“haha i dont know how you guys do it!!! like having to memorise things after sooo long,, must be a struggle”

“THIS IS THE FIFTH TIME KITAY PLEASE SHUT UP I DONT KNOW THIS SUNZI QUOTE”

until a year before he went to sinegard, nezha didnt know how to swim. i know that it very uncanon but i would find it so funny if nezha (water boy) did not know how to swim

obviously his parents would not be very happy with him. poor nezha, cant catch a break…

altan may appear to be tough and cool and sexy (i love him) but he has the most childish sense of humour. sex jokes etc etc, and rin would have such a distaste for this they would start arguing again.

altan is also so soft on the inside. if any of qara’s birds were injured he would stay up to help them no matter what!!! altan trengsin - murderer, killer and the protector of birds <3

after he dies and rin melts down his trident, he would be so pissed at her for destroying his legacy yada yada yada, but would probably forgive her

chaghan was devastated when rin destroyed the trident. he wanted it because it was the last piece of altan :(

however nezha would probably sleep with those swords after rin dies.

kitay and rin would share a tombstone in arlong, to be joined by nezha after he dies… probably bc of the hesperians lol

altan and rin have a tombstone in speer. even though nezha hated altan, he would make one for him.

‘here lies altan trengsin and fang runin, the last speerlies, under the heart of the phoenix that they followed home - everything changes on speer’

unegen and enki visited them. idk where they went off too after leaving the cike, but i like to believe they lived, and found speer.

nezha and chaghan regularly visited speer to pay tribute to their speerly bros that died and that they loved lol. once they saw each other and they were like ‘oh you too?’.

i feel like jiang knew (even subconsciously) that rin was his daughter and loved her as such :( he also loved his nephew altan but couldnt protect either.

rin and nezha have opposite music tastes

kitay hates music because it hurts his head

I MISS THEM SO MUCH. if someone wants to talk about tpw i am here 25/8/365

#the poppy war trilogy #the poppy war #tpw #the poppy war headcanons #headcanons #fang runin #I LOVE THEM SO MUCH I WISH THEY WERE ALIVE #yin nezha #chen kitay #altan trengsin #chaghan suren #qara suren #the cike #cike #the dragon republic #the burning god #rf kuang

[incorrect-house-of-nine]

More not so incorrect Ortus thoughts.  I’ll preface this by saying, I understand Harrow’s behaviour is a trauma response and she deserves empathy and understanding. In Harrow the Ninth, Harrow reverts to how she was before Canaan House due to the muddled timeline. She’s back to being awful, acerbic and fully convinced she is surrounded by cretins.   (Stuff such as thinking flesh magic is pedestrian, the horror at being mistaken for anyone who could find meat interesting, sneering at anyone who could find meat interesting.)

Like it strikes me how insufferable, how patronizing and condescending she really is towards Ortus. We get a glimpse of how she treated him waaaaay before the muster was called. Though she has a wicked biting sense of humour, its still mean

She genuinely believes that she’s successfully pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes with the puppet show because she's soooo smart n they’re so dumb. Its alluded to when she talking to Ortus about his father, she says almost surprised. "You knew?"

Not only did his friends die but afterwards his Father is perennially downcast for every after, possibly depressed -- murdering 200 kids will do that to a man -- but his Dad killed himself for them to boot. The Nona family take take take and this fetus has the cheek to believe he doesn’t have the intelligence of a root vegetable? His reply is one of the few times that Moira doesn't vocalise him as sad, you can hear it in her voice, the sheer contempt for this sour tongued, inconsiderate child lecturing him and talking down to him. "You are not the only person, My lady, who can put two and two together and get “four.”

Though he’ll never blame her or treat her with anything other than respect, all his friends, romantic prospects etc etc were murdered so she might be born. He's had to live and grow up alone, the Noniad is his coping mechanism and she constantly insults it. He too has to represent a generation of Niners and achieve something great.

As a sword swinging cav, he'll die and it shall be a waste. But a manuscript? It might last and will let people know the Ninth existed. He existed. And what they valued and stood for. The pen is mightier than the sword they say.

One day he had friends, went to school, was a kid, and the next he was the only teenager left alive. Imagine how devasting and lonely that must have been? The survivors guilt he must have suffered?

Imagine, a solitary child returning to a cavernous empty school hall, an abandoned black ball in left in the back of the football net, jackets that shall never be out grown hanging on pegs left to decay. A heavy empty silence where once there was light and life and the laughter of children. Fading memory and ghosts the only thing to keep him company.

The accusatory stares from the parents of those lost children, their resentment, rage, grief silent but caustic. Wondering why he was spared, knowing why he was spared. 

The survivors guilt he must have suffered? (My heart, I cant!) God! All the lil teased together tidbits that ask you to think deeper about Ortus just kill me. We don't deserve him. Muir did a great job of making us dismiss him in the same way Harrow/Gideon did/does, only to bring him back n slap us with: Never judge a book by its cover, or assume you know someone's journey. Be freaking Kind!

#tlt #the locked tomb #harrow the ninth #gideon the ninth #harrowhark nonagesimus #ortus nigenad

[letsquestjess]

A Nudge in the Right Direction

Summary: Crosshair is determined to recover his aim, and Batcher is right there to support him.

Word Count: 644

Warnings: None.

A/N: Took me a bit longer than I planned but here's the little fic I promised to write in this post. Slight spoilers for season 3.

-- -- -- -- --

A resounding shot shattered through the mellow evening, accompanied by a hissed curse. With persistence imprinted on his face, Crosshair flexed the fingers of his right hand, the cold metal of the sniper rifle providing a reassuring weight as he drew the lens up to his eye. The scope shuddered, but his level-headed breaths tempered the wobble. 

No matter how much he told himself not to rush, to allow his instincts time to recover along with the rest of his body, a sense of urgency bit at him. The Empire’s relentless pursuit of Omega only fuelled Hunter and Wrecker’s determination to safeguard her at any cost and he itched to join them, to once again stand shoulder to shoulder as they did in the days before the Republic’s downfall. Skills all working in tandem, as one. But they couldn’t return to that. Echo was off with Rex, and Tech… 

Lowering the weapon, he clenched his teeth, suppressing the tears that threatened to slip free since Omega had revealed the devastating news from Eriadu. He should have been there, should have noticed the signs of the Empire’s malevolence long before Barton and Mayday. All he had now was a crushing pain and brothers who refused to meet his eyes. Whether incited by deep-seated hatred or their own overwhelming grief, he wasn’t certain. But those nights in his cell when a flicker of hope dared to enter his heart, he knew that a reunion with his squad would be far from joyful. After everything that had happened between them, after the words spoken and spat, there would always be an unbridgeable gap that would require an immense effort on both sides to mend. 

Behind him, Batcher padded across the sand, tongue lolling out and pants wheezing between her teeth. The birds she had been chasing perched in the trees and glared at the lurca hound, ready to defend themselves if she resumed the hunt. 

“What do you want?” Crosshair asked as she sat down and fixed him with a strangely lovable blue-red stare. “If you’re hungry, go find Omega. She’ll get you something to eat.” 

Batcher didn’t move, tail wagging contentedly. With a sigh, Crosshair shook his head and brought the rifle back into position. The tremors in his trigger finger spread through his hand and the gun rattled. Undeterred, he took the shot, missing by a hairsbreadth.

As he was about to lower his weapon, Batcher nudged against his elbow and wriggled underneath, supporting his arm as though prompting him to try again. Deciding to humour her, he adjusted his posture and lined up the attempt, squinting through the scope. 

The tremble remained, but he found solace in the hound’s steady breathing, harmonising with the wash of the evening tide. She stayed as still as possible and huffed out a tiny, impatient yap. 

“Okay, okay,” the sniper said. A loud crack cut the air as the next bullet sent a chunk of dripping purple fruit flying. He chuckled quietly to himself and bent down to pet Batcher’s snout. As she scrunched up her nose, he quickly retracted his hand in time to avoid her gruff sneeze. Sand spluttered into her face and she shook off the grains. 

“Have you been playing in the grass?” Crosshair questioned. 

As if in reply, she sneezed again. Another burst showered her and another vigorous shake scattered the pale powder from her coat.  

“I take that as a yes.” 

The lurca plonked herself down and tilted her head, a rumble reverberating in her throat until he obliged and scratched her favourite spot behind her neck. She scooted closer and bumped her nose to his right hand, nuzzling at his shaky palm and letting out a little whine. 

Crosshair hushed her. “I’ll get there,” he promised, tracing a comforting path down her spiny back. “I won’t let my family down again.” 

#tbb #the bad batch #tbb fic #tbb fanfiction #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch fanfic #the bad batch fanfiction #sw tbb #sw the bad batch #tbb crosshair #tbb batcher #sw tbb fanfic #sw tbb fanfiction #sw the bad batch fanfiction #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #tbb season 3 spoilers #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #bad batch spoilers #bad batch season 3 spoilers

[sitp-recs]

HP Rec Fest, Day 28

I’ve been reccing underrated fics since this blog was created and so I thought “there’s no easier @hprecfest prompt than this one” lol famous last words, this post took me ages to prepare 😂 I was initially overwhelmed by the amount of fics that came to mind, and going through my bookmarks and old recs only made it worse. How was I supposed to shortlist?? In the end I gave up and decided to rec 2 Drarry fics + 2 rare pairs. I could have included so many more but I really didn’t want this to become a tl;dr post and these rec blurbs are already going out of control, so here we go!

Day 28) an under-rated fic:

Drarry

In Dreams by @moonflower-rose (E, 38k)

Harry wasn't expecting to ever see Draco Malfoy again. He also wasn't expecting to walk into a political conspiracy that morning either, but apparently that's exactly what the day has in store for him.

I’ve screamed quite a few times about this fic (see my rec here) and every time I do it’s in the hopes that more folks will stop whatever they’re doing and go feast on this. not only a delicious and intriguing case fic with Rosie’s trademark epic dialogue and superb sense of humour, this also wins the award of best fic opening I have ever read. the way I gasped at chapter one and am forever haunted by its utterly devastating ending oh my god!!! my heart belongs to this gritty Harry, and the slow burn is masterfully crafted within the urgency of their teamwork to solve the mystery combining comfort, grief and hope in a thrilling, poignant and perfectly paced adventure. plus, the emotional payoff is chef’s kiss, honestly I cannot recommend this enough!

Survival of the Species by @romaine2424 (E, 47k)

Draco approaches Harry on the 9 ¾ platform, after their sons have boarded the Hogwarts Express, and invites him over for tea. The discussion they have leads them on an adventure that neither could have expected. There be dragons! HPDH compliant but before any other canon info had been released.

considering this masterpiece was published back in 2007 I think I’m allowed to say this is definitely a formative story when it comes to the creature genre, more specifically Veela fic. I first read this a couple years ago and my jaw legit dropped at the amount of world-building and carefully researched lore that went into this. so detailed and intricate and different from everything I’ve seen before or since, I was truly fascinated and couldn’t stop reading. kudos to the amazing slow burn covering years of their struggles stuck together in a dragon cave and having to rely on each other to survive. I loved seeing the hardships and how they genuinely came to care for each other, definitely one of the most moving and convincing Veela love stories I’ve read in the fandom.

Rare pair

With a Look by earlybloomingparentheses (Ginny + Deamus, E, 5k)

Now, twenty years old and done with boys and looking forward very much to putting her hand down some lucky girl’s shirt later this evening, Ginny looks at Dean Thomas’s gold-painted fingernails and feels heat pool between her legs.

I think about this fic every now and then - such a sensitive, thought-provoking and beautiful homage to the 🏳️‍🌈 community. the visceral and contemplative tone takes it beyond your regular PWP, and I’ve rarely seen gender and queerness explored quite like this. seeing Ginny figuring out and owning her identify is mesmerizing. her voice is powerful, sexy, earnest and articulates so many complex and layered feelings - I was particularly moved by the inner turmoil of not looking “queer enough”. I’m sure this fic will be eye-opening and comforting to so many people out there, and that’s why I never cease to rec it. an intimate character study, a sinfully hot and self-indulgent threesome but above anything, a poignant love letter to the queer community.

Passion, Patents, and Pen Pals at the Ministry by @violetclarity and @yrfrndfrnkly, art by @anaxandria-writes and @veelawings (Hermione/Pansy, T, 32k)

After an extremely ill-timed lovers'-tiff-turned-food-fight at the Ministry leaves her less one boyfriend and suspended without pay for six months, Hermione pleads for some position–anything–to fill her days until her suspension is up. The good news is, her temporary position in the Magical Games & Sports's Ludicrous Patents office is just down the corridor from Harry's office in General Inquiries. The bad news is Harry's officemate is Pansy Parkinson, the Ministry's operations are shockingly outdated, and every altercation between Hermione and Pansy winds up a headline in MoM's internal rogue gossip zine, Hot Goss.

rivals to secret pen pals to lovers yes please?? this hilarious Pansmione is a ship triumph and yet criminally underrated. I had a blast getting into the world of Ministry gossip & politics, and immediately fell in love with all the characters, l especially with this lovely meddling Harry. it’s SO MUCH FUN to watch poor him (and Blaise omg what a duo) in the middle of a ladies’ tug of war. I’m impressed by the amount of world-building especially around their workplace, not to mention all the side interactions and the fun, organic slow burn. I love this take on identity porn with tons of banter and Pansy and Mione connecting through their shared worldview and feminist principles, such a power couple ✊🏼 the mix of semi-epistolary, witty dialogue, dorky meddling friends and mild angst make for peak entertaining, I laughed non-stop and cheered so bad for them. femslash ftw!!!

#hprecfest2023 #day 28 #an underrated fic

[lostcauses-noregrets]

SnK Final Episode thoughts

A few thoughts about the final episode of SnK now the dust has started to settle.  Although it was the anime that first got me into the series, I’m really a manga first kinda fan, I enjoy the anime, but it’s always been a nice addition for me.  Also, while I was very ambivalent about the ending of the manga and had a LOT of things to say about it at the time, I’ve more or less made my peace with it.  All of which is to say that I went into the final episode without any particular expectations. I was excited to see the series draw to a close, hoped they wouldn’t mess up Levi’s ending, and was curious to see the much touted changes. 

I have to say, I really enjoyed it. The action sequences around the Attack Titan were breathtaking and the rumbling was genuinely horrifying. The pacing was good and it felt a lot shorter than the 90 minute running time. The voice acting was fabulous; Yuki Kaji, Yui Ishikawa, Marina Inoue and Hiroshi Kamiya really knocked it out of the park. 

Jean and Connie were really touching.  I loved the way that they kept harking back to what it meant to be a Scout.  Reiner was fabulous too. I had a lot more sympathy for him by the end of the episode than I’ve had throughout the series.  The expression on his face when Jean said they were all Scouts was really moving. Pieck is my best girl, as always, but I’m afraid I still haven’t warmed to Annie, I guess I never will.  Gabi seemed to be a lot less prominent than I remembered from the manga, but her scenes with Falco and Levi were great.  It’s no secret that I’ve never been fond of Armin, however I thought he came across really well in the episode.  His conversation with Zeke in paths made a lot more sense and was actually really touching,  Kudos to Marina Inoue for her amazing voice acting. 

Levi was perfect in every single frame.  You really got the impression that he was fighting with every last fibre of his being, despite his catastrophic injuries, and of course he never forgot his vow to Erwin.  The moment when he finally killed Zeke was *chef’s kiss*.

Levi’s final salute was absolutely devastating. I completely choked up watching the subbed episode on CR, even though I’d already seen the raw and had been capping the scene all day.  The final image of Erwin and the Wings of Freedom fading into the mist had me in pieces.  The choice of theDOGS as the soundtrack for this scene just added to the pathos as Erwin’s character song, Hope of Mankind, is an arrangement of this track.  

The change to Levi’s ending was very unexpected, but I really liked it.  I’d always wondered how that city at the end of the manga survived unscathed.  It seemed more realistic to see Levi, Onyankopon, Gabi and Falco in the refugee encampment.  It’s also fully in keeping with Levi’s compassionate character for him to be contributing to the reconstruction efforts, and of course it all ties in with what we’ve seen of Bad Boy. (It’s also pretty much exactly how I imagined Levi’s post war life in The Permanence of the Young Men.)  Seeing Levi handing out sweets to children who bear such a close resemblance to Ramzi and Halil was really touching.  I’ve seen some people complaining that the lollipop scene was a jarring note of humour that seemed out of place, but I didn’t see it like that.  I interpreted it as Levi remembering children like Ramzi, and perhaps even recalling the trauma of his own childhood.  I’ve seen some interesting discussion on twitter linking Levi’s reaction to the clown in Marley to the few sketchy panels of Bad Boy and suggesting that rather than being pissed at being mistaken for a child, Levi was triggered by something traumatic that happened in his own childhood. Isayama rarely draws anything unintentionally, so we’ll have to wait and see. 

Having said all that...much as I enjoyed the episode, it didn’t change my opinion of the ending (which you can read here if you’re a real glutton for punishment).  I really appreciated the change to Armin’s dialogue when he confronted Eren in Paths.  The scene in the manga where he thanks Eren for becoming a mass murderer for their sakes still leaves a bad taste, so that change was greatly appreciated. I also liked the fact that Armin said they wouldn’t be the heroes Eren wanted them to be, though in actual fact this is the role they take on. The fact that Armin and the others were so quick to forgive Eren still really sticks in my craw, if anything, it was even more jarring in the anime after seeing how hard they had fought to stop him.  The same goes for Armin telling Mikasa to find a good place for Eren to rest quietly.  I’m sorry, but I’m not sure Eren deserves to rest in peace. 

Eren himself was pathetic in every sense of the word, just as he is in the manga, but I think he explains his fucked up rationale a bit more clearly in the anime.  I have seen some criticism that Eren is a poor villain because he lacks any coherent ideology, other than some vague nonsensical notion of “freedom”, but that’s the whole point. Eren isn’t a tragic villain or an evil genius with a masterplan, he really is just a kid who had too much power and didn’t know what to do with it.  

There’s nothing I can really say about Mikasa, she was as dignified and tragic as she is in the manga.  However I thought the connection between the Founder Ymir and Mikasa was, if anything, even more obscure in the anime.  I can’t help wondering what anime only fans make of it. I’m also not sure I liked the way the anime handled the extra scenes at the end. It was quite clever to include them as the credits rolled, but it did rather lessen their impact. I think I’d have preferred to see them full screen. 

I know there’s been a lot of criticism with the way MAPPA animated the characters, particularly in comparison to JJK, but tbh I have little patience with that.  With the notable exception of Levi, SnK has never been a pretty boy anime so the comparison to JJK seems misplaced.  Although I will always prefer WIT’s style, I think MAPPA did a good job of incorporating some of Isayama’s art style in the animation, particularly the exaggerated facial expressions he sometimes draws. 

And finally on to that scene with Erwin.  The level of outrage at the way Erwin was drawn in the scene where Levi recalls his vow was quite something.  I have several Anons in my inbox claiming that MAPPA have a deliberate anti-Erwin bias, which is nonsense.  Admittedly MAPPA’s Erwin does suffer in comparison with WIT’s season 3 Erwin who was magnificent, however even WIT didn’t manage to draw Erwin consistently.  I think some fans have been quick to forget just how wonky Erwin sometimes looked in earlier seasons of the anime.  Also as I said in this post, it’s important to remember that Levi is in the depths of despair when he remembers Erwin at this point, as he has convinced himself that he has failed him.  Erwin always looks beautiful and serene when Levi remembers him; this is the one exception. The bleak expression on Erwin’s face is a reflection of Levi’s state of mind, not some hidden agenda on MAPPA’s part.  If we’d had soft shoujo Erwin in this scene, it wouldn’t really have conveyed Levi’s despair. The fact that we did get a close-up of the most beautiful soft shoujo Erwin at the end is hopefully enough to appease the critics. 

So thems my thoughts. If you’ve had the patience to read to the end of this ramble, thank you.  However you look at it, it's been a wild ride and I'm very grateful to have been along for the trip. One last word for people who are concerned the fandom will die now the season has ended. Don't worry, it won't. It will change, but change is inevitable in fandoms. However the characters and story that Isayama has created are easily compelling enough to capture fans for years to come.

#snk final season #lostcauses meta #snk

[emmasbadbatch]

Star Wars OC - Ellora Clev

Welcome! This is a short, temporary information sheet about my OC (I am currently at 13,000 words with various stories and excerpts about her life), Ellora Clev! Please enjoy, she is my pride and joy 💗

Name: Ellora Clev

Species: Human

Born: 42BBY

Designation: Engineering Corps - Geological Division (Former), Imperial Military Department of Advanced Weapons Research - Project Celestial Power (Former)

Overview: Ellora Clev was a geologist in the Republic Engineering Corps with a special interest in mineralogy and speleology. Usually based on Coruscant, she would regularly attend field missions for duties such as mapping surveys, sample and core extractions, and navigational assistance. Her research was valuable intel for the GAR during the Clone Wars, which continued to rage on throughout the formative years of her career.

Ipsi the Tooka: Ipsi is Ellora's tooka. They met on a remote planet named Athol-3. The full story can be read here!

She has very 'I just live here' energy, contenting herself with sleeping and exploring wherever she goes. She doesn't take kindly to strangers, and has an unusual distaste for Crosshair, but cares deeply for Ellora.

Ipsi is small by tooka species standards, only measuring approximately half the average length and height. Her most striking feature is her bioluminescence, which causes her fur to glow a vivid green colour.

Clone Force 99: Ellora met the Bad Batch when they were assigned to assist her with a highly dangerous mineral extraction mission on a planet named Calyx. The air was highly corrosive and caused weapons such as blasters and detonators to become damaged and explosive. Together, they worked as a team to complete the mission successfully (with some minor major shenanigans).

Ellora and Tech quickly hit it off, becoming friends and enjoying the time they spent together exchanging research notes and learning from one another. Soon, Ellora became friends with the rest of the squad, slowly winning them over with her sense of humour. The exception to this was Crosshair, who elected to keep his distance.

Post Order 66: Following the fall of the Republic, Ellora was inducted into the Advanced Weapons Research unit of the Imperial Army. She found herself transferred to Kamino to continue her role as a field geologist extracting rare minerals. The Empire had taken a keen interest in kyber crystals, and Ellora was paired with the Elite Squad, led by Crosshair, to carry out numerous missions (under the pretence the crystals were for energy research). Here, the pair reunited, but tensions ran high. Under the influence of his inhibitor chip, now at full intensity, Crosshair's cold attitude continued. However, promising signs showed early in Ellora's arrival to Tipoca City. He began to train Ellora in secrecy, teaching her how to fight and to handle her blaster properly. Her lack of combat skills made her a liability to the team, and Crosshair endeavoured to train her so that she was proficient enough to protect herself. Slowly, their friendship began to develop.

Waning Loyalty: Ellora continues her missions across the galaxy to acquire target minerals that are of interest to the Empire. The purposes of her research are kept secret, and any questions Ellora makes are placated with benign studies. Soon, she becomes suspicious.

Her rapidly evolving friendship with Crosshair provides her with someone to confide in, and she shares her concerns with him. Crosshair is confronting his own doubts, with his inhibitor chip now malfunctioning after his injury on Bracca. Before they can investigate further, Ellora is taken off world, back to Coruscant. She becomes panicked, hearing that Tipoca City was destroyed in a devastating storm. Fearing the worst, she was met with a mixture of relief and horror upon discovering that Crosshair was alive, but in extremely poor health.

The pair reunite once more, now working primarily as a team of two. The Empire was choosing to allocate less and less resources to clones, and questions were beginning to appear surrounding Ellora's loyalty. Through all of this, Crosshair and Ellora are a vital support to one another, and they are almost inseparable whenever they aren't attending to their respective duties. Their care and attachment are beyond that of a conventional relationship.

Breaking Point: Missions were becoming increasingly challenging, and it soon became obvious that they were being passively discarded by the Empire. Ellora confessed to Crosshair that she wanted to leave and start a new life with him. At first, he humours it, but soon the thought becomes Ellora's light in the ever suffocating darkness they found themselves in. Crosshair cared deeply for her, and was enraptured by her vivid daydreams. He agrees to help her leave, but realises that going with her will pose a much greater threat to her safety. Knowing that she won't go through with her desertion alone, he attempts to wait until the last moment to convince her to leave by herself. During Ellora's escape, Crosshair tries to reason with her to go by herself, but she refuses. He makes the ultimate decision to force her to leave.

Navigating Alone: Having spent all of her adult life in the Engineering Corps or under the Imperial Army, Ellora found navigating the galaxy alone a formidable task. With few credits and limited equipment, Ellora did what she could to survive whilst remaining off the Empire's radar. This meant sometimes having to make morally questionable decisions. Combined with her grief from losing Crosshair, Ellora struggled significantly to keep going. Ipsi helped Ellora through her darkest moments, and continued to do so.

Ellora's main source of income was selling rare and valuable minerals that she had either collected herself, or bartered from sellers who weren't as knowledgeable on the true value. Through this line of work she met a pirate named Phee Genoa, who valued Ellora's eye for the unique and illusive when it came to crystals.

Arrival on Pabu: Phee and Ellora quickly became close associates, exchanging intel frequently. But in a dangerous galaxy, Ellora keeps her past a closely guarded secret. Despite this, Phee invites her to Pabu after Ellora is badly injured during a run-in with bounty hunters. Shortly after her arrival, Ellora discovers that the Bad Batch are living on Pabu. The squad are still recovering after their recent mission to Mount Tantiss, where they successfully rescued Crosshair, Tech and Omega. Tech was the most severely wounded, still recovering from a fall he took on Eriadu, with Crosshair also suffering significant physical trauma after being relentlessly tortured.

Their reunions were painfully sweet, and Ellora was very excited to be introduced to the newest member of the squad, Omega. Her reconciliation with Crosshair came last, with complicated feelings on both sides about their separation remaining strong. It had been over a year since they had seen each other, but any resentment or contempt Ellora could have possibly held immediately dissolved. It was like no time had passed at all, but they had both significantly changed, and they had a long road ahead of them to recover.

The Future: Ellora is passionate about Pabu, feeling deeply for the cause. Wanting to help other refugees of the Empire find a new home, Ellora became involved in initiatives to help find new places across the galaxy like Pabu. Using her skills in geology, she became a surveyor with a small team, but often undertook fieldwork to chart new planets which would be suitable for settlement by those fleeing the new regime. Crosshair would most often accompany her on these expeditions, and although they never truly enjoyed the life that Ellora had spoken of so fondly, they felt they were helping to make the galaxy a better place.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this introduction to Ellora. Please enjoy some Ipsi content for getting this far :D

#star wars oc #emmasbadbatch oc #Ellora Clev #I slapped this out over the course of 4 hours because I realised I wrote a 3k story about ellora and Crosshair #and no one will know what i'm banging on about because i've never posted about her on here #also I know ipsi will always be the real fav her but a geologist can dream #i can't blame everyone for loving ipsi she's a menace

[ailendolin]

For the prompts! Ian/Gabriel, gentle & fireplace please~?

Sorry for the long wait but here is your fic! I hope you enjoy it! 😊

List of prompts is here. Filled prompts are here, here, here, here and here on AO3.

Prompts are closed.

————

Underneath [AO3]

One of Gabriel’s favourite things about winter in England was coming home to a warm fire and Ian’s even warmer smile. She loved walking through the snowy streets of London after a long day at the theatre but she loved coming home even more. Ian never failed to greet her at the door and begin fussing over her. The way he sometimes cradled her hands close to his chest to warm them up never always made her heart beat a little faster. It had been such a long time since anyone had been this gentle with her.

From the moment they’d met – and by met she meant properly after the dust of the failed plot had settled and Bill gave them both a place to stay – Ian had treated her as if she were a most precious jewel that deserved only the gentlest of care. Gabriel did not know why he would go out of his way to make sure she was comfortable, and she hadn’t found the courage to ask him about it yet, but that didn’t stop her from enjoying the attention, not even when Bill mercilessly teased her about it. And he teased her a lot.

“I bet he’s already waiting anxiously by the door with a warm blanket for you,” Bill grinned as they made their way home through familiar narrow streets one particularly cold January night. They were both bundled up in thick winter cloaks but the biting cold still somehow found a way inside, making them shiver as they hurried over slippery cobblestones as quickly as they dared.

“He is just being kind,” Gabriel said, pulling her cloak more tightly around her.

Bill scoffed. “Sure. That’s why he only has one blanket and always gives it to you.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to step on Anne’s toes?” Gabriel suggested.

When Bill laughed, his breath fogged the air and several heads turned toward them. “Have you ever seen Anne waiting for me when we come home? Goodness me, that’d be the day! The best I get is a grumble about my cold hands and feet when I crawl into bed with her.”

Gabriel buried her nose deeper in her scarf, not inclined to think about Bill and Anne in bed. Or her and Ian. Not in bed, just in general. “Anne has the children to take care of. It only makes sense for her to adjust her schedule to fit theirs.”

Bill gave her an amused look. “And Ian doesn’t? Because as far as I can tell he’s the first one up in the morning and the last one to go to bed at night – the latter of which is clearly because of you. Because he likes you.”

“Nonsense,” Gabriel said, feeling heat rush to her cheeks. “It’s not like that.”

“Gabriel,” Bill said softly and stopped her with a hand on her arm. Snowflakes covered his dark hair like stars as he looked at her, all traces of teasing gone from his handsome features. “Would it truly be so bad if he did?”

Gabriel averted her eyes.

“You’ve all been kind regarding … who I am, who I’d like to be seen as,” she said carefully. “But underneath this dress, I am not the person I want to be and I never will. That’s something no amount of kindness can change.”

Understanding dawned on Bill’s face, devastating in its suddenness. “And you think Ian will mind.”

“I know he will,” Gabriel corrected him. Gesturing at her body, she added, “I mean, who wouldn’t?”

“Oh Gabriel,” Bill said and without saying another word stepped forward to pull her into a hug. Blinking against the sudden onset of tears, Gabriel burrowed the tip of her nose deep into the warm wool of his cloak and let herself be held for a moment. When Bill drew back to cup her face and wipe away a stray tear with his gloved thumb, she sniffed and managed a watery smile. “For what it’s worth I think Ian knows exactly what he’s getting himself into with you and doesn’t care what’s under your dress. He likes you, Gabriel; your beautiful smile, your sense of humour, your accent – not what is or isn’t between your legs.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened.

“Bill!” she hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had heard him.

Bill just chuckled before he gently tugged her along. “I’m just saying – he seems like someone who puts more value in good character than appearance. You two are not so different in that regard.”

Gabriel cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve seen his scars,” Bill said quietly as they passed into another alley. “And I don’t just mean the one on his leg I’m responsible for. You must have noticed how self-conscious he is about them.”

She had. Ian had been terribly embarrassed when he regained consciousness from the fever his wound caused and found himself wearing a simple nightshirt rather than the clothes he remembered wearing. He hadn’t needed to ask who had taken care of him after the infection had rendered him unconscious, not with the way Anne, Bill and Gabriel had been hovering at his bedside when he’d woken. None of them had mentioned it but the next morning when Gabriel offered to help him change, he had flinched back violently and refused to let her touch him or even see him uncovered. He had looked so ashamed in that moment that Gabriel’s heart still ached just thinking about it. She had not thought him ugly or disfigured when she saw his scars – she had thought him brave and beautiful.

Which was exactly the point Bill was trying to make. “I see what you mean.”

“Good,” Bill smiled and linked arms with her.

Perhaps he was right. Maybe she needed to stop worrying about the things she couldn’t change and instead start to embrace the possibility that other people – Ian – might like her exactly the way she was. The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating. Gabriel had never allowed herself to even think she could be loved like that, that someone could look at her and want all parts of her, but now? Now the idea did not seem quite so preposterous anymore.

Her heart began to beat a little faster on the last stretch of their journey. Gabriel barely felt the pinpricks of snow against her cheeks as she thought of Ian and his kind smile that always seemed a little brighter when he was looking at her. Would he be waiting for her this evening again? Did he put another log onto the fire just so the kitchen would be warm and welcoming when she came home? Would he perhaps even sit with her in the gentle glow of the firelight and hold her hands until they no longer felt cold to the touch?

Gabriel suddenly realised the answer to all these questions was yes, she hoped he would, and nearly stumbled over a slightly raised cobblestone in the process.

“What are you smiling about?” Bill asked. His knowing grin told her he already knew the answer.

“Nothing,” she hurriedly said. Then, in a small voice that sounded strange to her own ears, she asked shyly, “Do you really think he likes me? Like that?”

Bill’s grin softened. “I think he’d be a fool not to.”

Gabriel groaned. “That’s not an answer, Bill!”

Bill chuckled and pulled her against his side. It was something her older brother used to do, back when she was still a boy and he wanted to give her the courage to talk to their neighbour’s daughter, unaware that she was actually more interested in the neighbour’s son. The memory made her heart ache with homesickness.

“He likes you, Gabriel,” Bill said with an earnestness that left no room for doubt. “And I think you like him too.”

Gabriel ducked her head. “Maybe a little.”

Bill laughed again and the happy sound settled warmly in her chest.

“A little, huh?” he teased.

“Maybe more than that,” Gabriel admitted, a small smile tugging at her lips when their home finally came into view. The door was open and she could see Ian standing there with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders against the cold, staring into the night. He was waiting for them, just like she’d hoped he would.

His face lit up with unrestrained relief when he saw them. “There you are! I was beginning to think something had happened to you!”

“Nothing happened,” Bill reassured him and let Ian usher him inside. He glanced at Gabriel and added, “We just had a few epiphanies along the way.”

Ian frowned but instead of asking what Bill meant, he quietly helped them take off their cloaks so he could shake off the snow outside before hanging them up to dry.

“Here,” he said as he took Gabriel’s cloak. He held out his blanket to her. “You must be freezing.”

Ignoring the knowing grin on Bill’s face, Gabriel wrapped the warm fabric around her shoulders and began to take off her shoes. “Thank you, Ian.”

She placed them neatly by the door, just like Ian liked it, before she followed him into the kitchen. Bill trailed after her, still grinning as if she and Ian were the funniest thing he’d seen in a while. The most entertaining certainly, Gabriel wagered, as she turned around to glare at him. When she nodded toward the door, silently begging him to go, he rolled his eyes in the most annoying and fond way possible and yawned loudly.

“I think I’m going to bed now,” he announced, accompanied by another fake yawn.

He really was a terrible actor, Gabriel thought.

Luckily for her, Ian was too focused on tending to the fire to notice Bill’s anything but subtle attempt to give them some privacy. He merely at Bill over his shoulder and said, “Goodnight,” in that soft way of his before he turned back around to reach for another log.

“Night, you two,” Bill said. He met Gabriel’s eyes one last time and, giving her the thumbs up, mouthed, “Good luck!”

And then Gabriel was alone with Ian.

She’d been alone with Ian plenty of times before but this was different. This time, Gabriel found herself acutely aware of every breath Ian took and every movement he made, be it a wince when he straightened and his knees cracked or the slight twitch of his mouth that heralded the beginning of a smile when he lifted his head to look at her. Her eyes roamed over his face, taking in the lovely shape of his nose and the dark blue colour of his eyes before they landed on the hint of stubble that was accentuating his jawline. It suited him, she found, and her heart quickened at the thought.

“Would you like something to drink before you go to bed?” Ian asked. “Or perhaps some stew? We’ve got some left over from dinner. I could warm it up for you.”

His eagerness to help made her smile. Back when they were just starting to get to know each other, Gabriel had been worried it was rooted in fear. She’d seen first hand how the earl had treated him and how desperately Ian had tried to be one step ahead of him at all times and give him no reason to get angry at him. The thought that he was expecting the same anger from her, Anne and Bill had made her stomach twist for weeks until Anne, bless her, had brought the topic up one night over dinner.

“Oh no, it’s not that,” Ian had said, looking genuinely surprised. “I just like being helpful.”

Gabriel wasn’t quite sure if that had been the whole truth back then; it had not escaped anyone’s notice how terribly he’d flinched that one time he accidentally spilled some soup, or how warily he’d looked up when Anne had dropped to her knees beside him to help him clean up the mess. But she had no doubt that it was true now. The last few months under the Shakespeare’s roof had done Ian good. He looked healthier now, his face rounder and the shadows under his eyes less pronounced; he stood straighter too, as if he’d finally rediscovered his self-worth. Gabriel had thought him handsome before but now with the firelight softening his healthy features and his smile coming more easily to him, he took her breath away.

“Gabriel?” Ian asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. There was a slight crease of worry between his brows. “Would you like some ale or stew?”

Ale and stew were the farthest thing from her mind in that moment. “Will you sit with me for a moment, Ian?”

The soft request took him by surprise. A little nervously, he wiped his hands on his apron and joined her on the bench by the table. “Have I done something wrong?”

There it was again, a little flicker of that age-old fear Croydon had installed in him. Gabriel had a feeling it would always be a part of Ian, no matter how well he had it under control now. It made her wish their paths had crossed earlier in life. Maybe then things would have been easier for both of them.

“Of course not,” she reassured him with a smile. “I’d just rather talk to you than watch you running around fetching me things.”

“But if you’re hungry …”

“I’m not,” Gabriel laughed. Ian stared at her for a moment before he let out a small chuckle and relaxed. “It’s sweet, though, how much you care and worry. I really appreciate it.”

Ian ducked his head. “But …?”

“But I do hope you know it’s okay not to put others first all the time,” she told him softly. “You don’t have to wait up for me and Bill every night. It’s kind of you to do it but not really worth losing sleep over.”

Ian, still looking down at his hands, was quiet for a moment. Then, in a voice no louder than a whisper, he admitted, “I sleep better when I know you’ve made it back safely. London is a dangerous place, especially at night. Awful things can happen and I – I’d rather wait up for you than wake up the next morning and find out you’ve never made it back.”

Suddenly feeling like she’d stepped into a hornet’s nest, Gabriel asked cautiously, “Did that ever happen before? That someone you cared about did not make it home?”

Ian closed his eyes. “It was a long time ago.”

“Oh Ian,” Gabriel whispered and then, taking a leaf out of his book, gently took one of his hands in hers and cradled it as if it was the most precious things in the world. “I am so sorry. I had no idea.”

“It’s all right,” Ian sniffled. He looked down at their hands for a moment before he met Gabriel’s eyes. “I’m just glad you’re home, Gabriel.”

He’d never called the house a home before – his home. The fact that he was doing so now while looking at her like that not only took Gabriel’s breath away but made her heart beat frantically inside her chest. She smiled at him and, feeling warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the fire crackling merrily in the hearth beside them, told him softly, “Thank you for looking out for me. No one’s ever done that before.”

Ian’s eyes softened. “I would look out for you for the rest of my life if you permitted it.”

The confession was shy, timid – as if he was afraid to be heard, or had already made up his mind that his affections were not welcome. Gabriel thought back to what Bill had said about his scars, about how Ian was just as self-conscious about his body as she was, and she knew she had to tread carefully now and be very, very gentle.

“Would you let me do the same?” she asked, keeping her voice soft and quiet. “Would you let me worry about you in return?”

The surprise on Ian’s face made her heart ache. “You’d want to?”

Gabriel nodded. “I do.”

His eyes began to shimmer wetly in the firelight. “But I’m–“

“Caring, brave and beautiful,” Gabriel finished for him. “The kindest person I have ever met.”

With a nervous chuckle, Ian ducked his head – though not quite quickly enough for Gabriel to miss the two red spots that had appeared high on his cheeks. “You can’t possibly mean that.”

“But I do, Ian,” Gabriel said and gently reached out to tilt his face up. Her hand was shaking when their eyes met. For a heartbeat, they looked at each other – both of them scared, unsure and full of hope. Then Gabriel gently pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth and whispered again, “I do.”

She did not know where that rush of courage had come from but when she pulled back and heard his faint, breathless, “Oh,” she found it hard to regret it. Ian looked completely stunned, and she hadn’t even kissed him properly yet. “Me? Are … are you sure?”

Gabriel’s heart melted.

“Are you sure?” she asked instead of answering him and gestured at her body.

A look of sudden devastation crossed Ian’s face and Gabriel knew with sudden clarity that Bill had been right: what was or wasn’t underneath her skirts was and never would be an issue. It had not even occurred to Ian that it could be until she’d brought it up, and whatever lingering doubts she might have still had at this point dissolved into nothingness when he took her face in his hands and bestowed an almost desperate kiss upon her lips.

“I am,” Ian whispered breathlessly into the space between. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“Good,” Gabriel smiled. She gazed at him for a moment, drinking in the look of wonder that softened his face. “Neither have I.”

They met halfway for another kiss, and when Ian reached up to bury his fingers in her hair, Gabriel closed her eyes and silently thanked Bill for giving her a push in the right direction.

#gabriel montoya #bill shakespeare #ian #gabrian #bill 2015 #my fic #ask game prompt ficlet

[autumnrose11]

okay reading your post gave me follow up questions. firstly, i wanna know more about matthew’s past !! when did his father die? what sort of relationship did he have with him? and also just anything else you wanna share about pre-canon matthew :3

So my headcanons for Matthew’s pre-Downton life actually starts with Isobel. She and Reginald struggled to conceive, and she had Matthew pretty late in life (later than most first-time mothers of her age). He had an amazing relationship with both his parents, and he showed traits he inherited from them both – Dr Crawley’s gentle, soft-spoken, charming, honourable personality, and Isobel’s characteristic stubborness and fierce independence and willingness to stand up for what he believes in. He was his parents’ miracle, so he was ten times more precious to them.

He was genuinely the sweetest little boy. Incredibly kind and soft hearted. Sometimes sulky, threw tantrums on occasion, was stubborn and pig headed. Matthew was very close to both his parents. He had a great relationship with his father; Dr Crawley taught him to ride a bicycle when he was five. He was very, very proud of his little boy. Slightly disappointed when he showed no inclination to follow in his footsteps and pursue medicine, but he let Matthew know that he’d support him in anything he wanted to do. They were a very happy family on the whole.

The Chronicles of Downton Abbey state that Dr Crawley passed away when Matthew was “quite young.” This could have multiple interpretations, so I have it in my head that his father passed away when Matthew was around 12 - 13. He and Isobel were both devastated at the loss. Isobel made herself strong for Matthew’s sake. She couldn’t afford to lose herself in grief because her boy was just upon the threshold of turning into a young man and needed her so much. They became each other’s strength and support and more protective than ever of each other. It was just the two of them now. They became a team.

There were times when it felt horribly lonely and terrifying without Reginald there with them. Even then Matthew would cuddle against his Mother tightly and tell her he’d take care of her *tears up*

So the time came for Matthew to start school at Radley College once he turned 13. The busy pace of life was a welcome distraction from his grief, and soon he became pretty well integrated into school life. He and Isobel wrote to each other frequently, and she sent him Mrs Bird’s biscuits and cakes and sweets because she knew he had a huge sweet tooth ;)

I also think the early loss of his father matured Matthew immensely. He had to grow up too quickly, had to support his mother and himself. Which is why you don’t often see his carefree side: he has rarely been 100% free of responsibilities. He does have a wonderful sense of humour though :D

So yeah. Those are my thoughts on pre-canon Matthew :))

#thank you for the ask!! #Feel free to flood my inbox any time #Matthew Crawley #Isobel Crawley #Downton Abbey

[filmforager]

How to Have Sex: Review

The least Googlable film ever

From the smudged fake tan to the early morning puking rituals, you know what you’re getting with a party island holiday. But what often isn’t talked about is the undercurrent of peer pressure and uncomfortable sexual encounters lurking just beneath the surface. From first-time director Molly Manning Walker (cinematographer of the wonderful Scrapper), How to Have Sex artfully explores the seedy side of party holidays, with scenes that you’ll think about for days to come.

Like with any holiday, our protagonists start the film in super high spirits. We follow British teenager Tara (Mia McKenna-Bruce), who joins best friends Skye (Lara Peake, the loud one), and Em (Enva Lewis, the compassionate one) as they head to Malia to party after their exams. While they all give it large about the sexual adventures they’ll get up to (if they can convince people they aren’t 16), the pressure is on for Tara, who is yet to lose her virginity. 

Within seconds of this coming-of-age film, what stands out about How to Have Sex is how true to life everything feels. This is an environment that feels instantly recognisable - you can practically smell the sweat and sambucas. Drawing on her own holiday experiences, Manning Walker’s script uses dialogue that feels plucked straight from the Malia strip (right down to the girls’ love of cheesy chips), resulting in a convincing portrayal of female friendships. It helps that the cast play off each other so naturally, with a giddy energy and humour that might make you long for non-stop days of partying with your besties.

Well, almost. For while the opening revels in the joys of girls’ holidays, the second half takes a darker turn. As the group fall in with a trio of flirty lads next door, this gives rise to petty jealousies, peer pressure, and a few very triggering sexual encounters. It might all be vibrant visuals and lively party anthems, but cinematographer Nicolas Canniccioni frames the night scenes like a nightmare in neon, and you feel the sense of dread when Tara ends up wandering the lurid nightclubs alone.

When a pivotal moment comes at the halfway point, Manning Walker doesn’t shy away from the traumatising nature of sexual assault, and does a sensitive job of exploring the complex nature of consent. She’s aided by a marvelous debut performance from McKenna-Bruce, who manages to be both bubbly and full of life, while displaying a devastating sense of vulnerability. You might think you know what you’re getting from this party island holiday, but you’ll walk away with plenty more food for thought.

With star-making debuts from Manning Walker and McKenna-Bruce, How to Have Sex is a remarkable and sobering film about the meaning of consent. You’ll never think of party holidays the same way again.

★★★★

#how to have sex #4 stars #review #scrapper #molly manning walker #lara peake #enva lewis #mia mckenna bruce