#and i didn't have the time to write as much as i wanted to during the break

[blingblong55]

Gold Rush- Vladimir Makarov

Based on a request: heyy! I love your writing style and am I big simper for makarov!<3 Ignore this if you don't want to do it but what about reader being apart of makarov's crew and him falling in love with them during a mission. Thank you sooo much if ur going to do this!<333 ---- F!Reader, fluff/romance? ----

Being part of Konni was always a risk, especially when the rest of the world is against you and your teammates. Makarov, the man who started everyone just so happened to be by your side in this mission. He was rough, cold and serious, rarely making jokes unless you were a part of his inner circle. Tonight, he leads the team through yet another dangerous mission. 

You were walking towards another part of the enemy base when he stopped you. He shakes his head, "Too risky, take left," he commands but you know this place best. "If I take left the guards will notice me, this way is their blind spot, trust me," you voice above a whisper. "If you get us caught-"

"I won't," you cut him off. 

For nearly three hours, the team and you sneaked around, gathering as much intel as possible before sunrise. 

By the time the helo had arrived, he allowed you to go first, weird for a man like him to care about such things. On the way back to base, he sits beside you, "Smart move back there, Y/n," he says in a much softer voice. What he hadn't expected was for him to develop a soft spot for a person in his team, much less you. 

It didn't start tonight, no, this took time to develop. 

About two years ago, that is when he first noticed you. The team and you were just hanging around, it was an odd day, with no work or worries. He watches how his men laugh, how you sit by the corner, listening but not engaging and he takes note of that. With time, he notices how blunt you were, how you didn't glorify anything, especially not him. All others did, well those who were allies to his so-called 'cause'. 

You didn't mean to be mean when you were honest, you just said things like how you saw them, even with him. Another thing he noticed was how shy you were, but when asked your words spoke differently to how you are. 

With time, he found himself smiling at what you did, the dumb jokes only you and the person telling them understood. Secretly, he began to memorise you. It would be a fear to others if he did this but in this light, it was romantic. He began to notice the smile you had when you'd read a book and it got to an interesting part. 

One night, he sat down on some stairs, looking up at the starry night as smoke ran in his lungs. He did this only when he knew you'd be jogging around base, sleepless nights were your excuse but he knew the real reason. 

Others noticed how kind he was to you, how he never laughed when you were the butt of the joke. It became clear when he would only beeline to you when books were in his hand. All in Russian but as he said, "The author made it in Russian because the emotions are better written."

He always had a book he needed you to read. In some cryptic way, the words between pages and titles were his way of being a poet to the girl in the jogging shoes. 

Tonight, as the team arrives back on base, he asks you to stay back. 

Why be feared if you, yourself fear something?

The walk to his office was calm, screw whoever said comfortable silence was overrated. This silence with him was nice, it was...beautiful in some way. 

"I wanted to...say something I think is idiotic to say, especially for a man like me," he starts. Your gaze on his soft eyes, those heterochromatic eyes. 

He takes a deep breath and continues, "I like you. I like all about you and I think I would be a fool if I never said this. You can act as shy as you want, and pretend I annoy you, but I want a lot of things with you. I've read poems that remind me of you. I like our night routines, I like how you know the real me. I like how everyone here adores you...at least I do. I didn't like how you have become the only person I get nervous around but...now, I do. But I do hate that you make me feel excited, happy and hopeful and that you know me better than anyone. I hate worrying about you so if you must, reject me now so I can have a real reason to hate myself too."

His eyes desperately looking at yours and when a smile appears on that beautiful face of yours, he smiles too. 

For three months, he and you get close. Milena, the woman everyone, even the enemies, thinks is his lover only stays close so she can finally see a long-time friend happy. 

Everywhere he goes, those sweet eyes you've come to love steal glances at you. Small, secret smiles capture no one but the eyes of each other. He becomes the constant in your life as you do to his. 

In this world, he shouldn't show anyone his shiny toy. He mustn't since he knows others will break the one fragile thing he allows himself to have. So, like the flower-covered coat pockets in his home, he keeps you tucked away for when his hands can be fragile again.

Tags: @liyanahelena @johfaam0 @goldenmclaren @rvivienner @frazie99 @alxexhearts @baldwinhearts @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @viomast @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @strangepuppynightmare @strawberrychita @Llelannie @anonymuslydumb @nobodys-coffee @rowrowrowyourboat13 @luvecarson @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @thegreyjoyed @marshiely @baruque-ya @tuihiatus @iruzias @sleepyycatt @believeinthefireflies95 @noodlezz-bedo

#cod mw2 #cod #cod x reader #mwii #call of duty #cod fluff #cod imagine #cod x you #makarov cod #vladimir makarov #cod makarov #call of duty makarov #makarov x reader #call of duty mw3 #vladimir makarov x you #cod mw3 #call of duty modern warfare #vladimir makarov x reader #vladimir makarov cod #vladimir makarov fluff

[azuresage]

It gets talked about a lot but I still can't stop nerding out about Link's characterization in TotK. It's done through his many creative dialogue choices and his expressions of course, but it's also done so subtly through what he *doesn't* say. Notably, he doesn't talk about himself. And this is why nobody recognizes him unless they've already met him. Because he doesn't tell them when they've got the wrong impression of him.

The meme about Link having Tony Hawk syndrome is so real. People will look at him and straight up say, "Wow, you look exactly like Link!" without a hint of irony. Lookout Landing has a detailed picture of his face in their watchtower and the search party still doesn't recognize him. Penn works with Link for a long time and thinks he's unlucky that the Yiga keep "mistaking" him for the Hero (granted, Traysi asked him to deliberately keep quiet, but Penn still didn't put two and two together himself). I think the reason for this, aside from it being really, really funny, is that Link just doesn't talk about himself. He doesn't feel the need to.

Characterization isn't just about what we see a character doing, it's also about how other characters respond to them. Link is so unassuming and humble that he doesn't match people's expectations of what "Link" should be like. The three Gerudo ladies hanging out around Outskirt Stable are one of many perfect examples. Link stands in front of them carrying the Master Sword, but they expect the Hero to be taller than they are, with a giant glowing sword, so they don’t believe it's him. Obviously that's not the reality, but they don't know that. Link doesn't correct them, either. Again, he doesn't feel the need to.

This is also why many NPCs from BotW don't recognize or remember Link. To them, he was just a passerby that did them a good turn once 6+ years ago. Nobody's going to remember a person like that for so long after. They had no way of knowing he was the Hero, unless it came up for story quest reasons. When they hear stories about the Princess's Appointed Knight who woke up from his 100 year nap, defeated the Calamity, and rescued Zelda, they imagine someone larger than life. Then when they see what Link actually is like, they can't put two and two together.

This is true even during the Hyrule Restoration efforts. Link always follows behind Zelda as her shadow, which she notes in her diary, but the people in the stable investigation quests and in Hateno don't recognize him either, even though he went everywhere she did. Link is just that unassuming. He resigns himself to being a shadow, allowing Zelda to take the lead and do as she pleases but always staying nearby to support and protect her. He doesn't need to be recognizable to do his job. And we know from both BotW and now TotK that he's wholly devoted to her. He's content with this. Many people more eloquent than I have spent many paragraphs elaborating on this. I just wanted to focus on what it says about his character.

Link is humble and unassuming, so much so that nobody believes that he's the Hero unless they already know him. He's devoted to Zelda, so much so that he's willing to do anything to chase even a glimpse of her. He doesn't talk about himself or correct people who have the wrong impression of him. He doesn't need to do that to chase his Zelda. He is a person of great humility in spite of his station. I think that's so interesting and neat how the comedy of him being unrecognizable also tells us all this about him. It's also cool how this is only one aspect of him; all the dialogue choices and expressions he makes during cutscenes and actions out in the world show a whole other, lighter side to him that meshes with this. It's all so good. I am in love with it. It always kills me inside when people dismiss his characterization as being nonexistant or flat just because it's not spoonfed to them or when they say Link being unrecognizable is lazy writing instead of a deliberate choice. I am biting and gnawing and gnashing over him and his relationship to Zelda. I love them so much.

#legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #zelda theory #link #this was swirling in my brain cuz i just started replaying totk i had to jot it down #this game is peak fiction. my favorite of all time.

[moonstrider9904]

And so, the last Bad Batch Eve falls upon us.

It is surreal to think that a show that has meant so much to me for three years will come to an end. I've talked about how meaningful TBB is to me many times, and I most certainly will in the future, but I didn't want to pass on the opportunity to do it on the last Bad Batch Eve we'll officially have.

The night before Aftermath premiered, I'd struggled with some pretty bad anxiety. In the weeks following after that and throughout the first season, I dealt with depression and anxiety being diagnosed as well as an ear infection the doctor attributed to said mental illnesses. I went through a pretty bad breakup. The lockdowns were at their peak where I was. But despite that being a rough time, I also vividly remember being in my room at home, my favorite place in the world, eating my favorite food and drinking my favorite relaxing tea, hearing it rain outside, wearing my favorite hoodie and my PJs, watching/rewatching those season 1 episodes. Seeing Crosshair deal with the inhibitor chip seemed to echo some of what I was going through, i.e. having something in your head you couldn't really control. I wondered how afraid he must have felt, and I sympathized with him.

During S2, as Crosshair was off with the Empire, I was off living in my hometown the first time, away from my true home and my family, and I have to admit I was very lost during that time. I did make mistakes. I did return home, and I left it again, albeit now more ready, more prepared, more stable. But it was still a second time leaving home.

S3 Crosshair has all but solidified my intent in going back home and not freaking leaving and I really hope the day in which I can return home to my family the way he did is sooner rather than later. Seeing him grow, own up to his mistakes, forgive and be forgiven, learn to control what's in his head, and heal, feels like a very fitting peak to a journey, a journey that had and still has its ups and downs.

And let's not forget the writing and the fandom. I have written things I didn't think I'd write, things I've loved so much that part of me wants to go back in time and rewrite to experience the joy of doing it all over again (looking at Moonlight here lol). I have also made gifs, which I didn't ever imagine doing! I edited music videos and crack meme compilations, which I had wanted to do for years. Fear not, I'll keep doing all of that - slowly, yes, but not with any less love. Y'all are stuck with me. 😁🩷

And as if all I've mentioned wasn't already very valuable, I cannot forget all the beautiful, wonderful, amazing people I've met because of this show. People who I've learned from, laughed with, cried with, fangirled with, gamed with... every single one of you has been the icing on the cake, the lattice on the pie, the parmesan on the pasta. You have all truly made this worth it and make me love being in the fandom. You give what I do a greater purpose, and you have become people I am happy to call moots and friends. I am over the moon that this show allowed me to cross paths with you. @photogirl894 @rebekadjarin @darthzero22 @arctrooper69 @jedi-hawkins @stardustbee @s-pirth-lemonade @eloquentmoon @sageislostinspring @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @kimageddon @emperor-palpaminty @rainydaydream-gal18 @imabeautifulbutterfly @paperback-rascal @pankeki-25 @dragonrebelrose @dragonrider9905 @questforgalas @lightwise @zoruui @nunanuggets @misogirl828 and everyone else 🩵

I love The Bad Batch and what it's done for my life in so many aspects. I love these characters for their growth and because they were there for me when nobody was, and because they brought me to so many amazing people. I am grateful that this show exists and I cannot wait to keep creating all the stuff I have planned, writing or otherwise.

Thank you, Clone Force 99, and thank you everyone for being a part of this journey!

🩷🌙

#moonstrider speaks #the bad batch #star wars tbb #clone force 99 #star wars #bad batch eve #tbb #tbb season 3

[deadbeat-motel]

Deadbeat Motel: Lucifer

"You've come to seek the end have you?" a figure stands in its lonesome greeting his visitor.

The King of Hell as he once was called, it had been some centuries since anyone had addressed him by that title. The number of sinners who still knew him by that monicker dwindled as time marched on. Now the only ones who call him by that are prideful Overlords seeking to find an end to their long afterlives but would never let another claim the glory of being their executioner.

The Overlord before him didn't say much, opting to avert their gaze.

"The time to have shown shame was long before you came to my realm. If you truly wished to find an end, then look me in the eye."

When the overlord finally grew the courage to do so, they felt something pass through their body. Lucifer's arm had pierced them with the tips of those clawed fingers glittering like white angelic steel. The overlord looked at their torso, Lucifer's fingers definitely passed through their body but it left no mark. They were almost doubtful he did anything to them... but that's when they finally felt it. Its origin on their torso, small and focused like a snake's bite, radiated such an imense pain bringing the overlord to their hands and knees shaking.

"I never promised a painless death..." The overlord's body shakes and trembles as they choke through screams

"... toughen through the pain. You earned your place in hell, you need to earn your death."

That's where Lucifer comes in, being the only other angelic being in this place, he can offer the same end that these angels do with the sinners.

There always comes a time in every Overlord's afterlife where their mortal soul can no longer stand an eternal life of hell. Despite the angels overpassing these souls during the extermination, they are not free from other overlords. Paranoia seeps into their mind as the fear of who would eventually toture them never leaves their mind.

Trivia:

Zestiel, being the only mortal soul that has reached 700, has impressed Lucifer with how long he's kept clinging to his sanity. Though he assumes that once Carmilla is gone, he should soon be seeing him come through his doors.

Lucifer in the show shows disdain for sinners but I feel like they had to brush through it with their 8-episode limit. Which sucks so I amped it up to 11 here where he sees every human as disgusting for forsaking his gift of free will. He is quite hostile and antagonistic when interacting with sinners.

Lucifer has NOT seen Charlie since her birth, he was an absent father. Ever since he left, Lilith has broken all ties with him. Theres a deep pit of guilt and shame inside him that festers from his regrets.

While I am aware that Lucifer and the 7 sins have a circus motif going on. The execution is so bad I don't really want to attempt salvaging it. I'm scrapping his entire ringmaster vibe.

--------

This was an interesting idea i just wanted to get out in writing before I forgot.

#deadbeat motel rewrite #deadbeat motel lucifer #hazbin hotel critical #vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel rewrite #motts is ranting

[fic-heaven]

Enemies to lovers with König and witty reader? I don't know if you also write about him so imma leave this here

Answering two anons at the same time lmao

Say my name

(König x witty! Reader)

🐥 The first time König appeared on my drafts was when I was making my last Reyes x Reader fic and um... I kind of wanted to keep doing lmao so here it is. Sorry for my broken English-

Angst/ SOCIAL ANXIETY/ slight nsfw/ open ending (if you guys want a part two and this short gets some attention)

⚠️ I still picture König as Lee Pace ⚠️

.

They say you transfered from SpecGru to KorTac because you simply wanted a change of airs. But it couldn't be that simple. Why were you so simple?

As antisocial as he seemed to be, König was well aware that a bond between teammates was needed in order to sync and function properly during missions. He wasn't the best at striking up conversations and never intended to improve on this aspect either, often trying to figure people out from the distance, he only approached them if he had questions about their character. Horangi once said it was weird but König frankly didn't care about what was socially accepted or not, he just made the effort to know his team because it was expected of him, and as great as it would be to have friends, he struggled socializing and had given up trying ages ago. König was paid to kill, not to make friends. And as far as his interactions went with his teammates, the only one who gets his game and could be considered his friend is Horangi. But you?

He had tried to investigate you, even going as far as using his position as colonel to gather as much information from your background to understand you without having to make any awkward approach. But nothing he found explained why you changed factions or why you behaved the way you did. You had a normal childhood, went to a good school, graduated being top of your class... Jesus you had a rabbit called Mr. Whiskers, even the deepest info given was borely normal. No trace of trauma or any mental disorder.

König begun studying you like a biologist would to a newfound species and got more and more invested and frustrated the more information he gathered, because he simply couldn't excuse your... Well, your everything.

He approaches you one time during morning drills, looks you up and down as you stretched, ignores the flirty comment you shot his way, because what the fuck is your problem? You don't know him. Then König proceeded to mouth the first thing he ever said to you, one of the main questions he had on his head as to why you would behave so strangely. And it goes like this: "Do you have any mental illness, hm?"

"I might have, yeah."

And you said it so casually. Do you, though? Are you being sarcastic or... God he hates you. Why can't he figure you out!? Why do you smile at him so much? Why do you flirt so much with him? Do you flirt with the others the way you do with him?

That new question made him observe your body language around others and listen carefully to any interaction you had and found nothing but your enchanting witty self. Of course you teased other members, but never so bluntly like the way you flirt with him. The colonel felt weirdly relieved at this. Maybe he liked the attention given? Scratch that, or course not!

One time after a tiring mission in Barcelona, Spain, König approached you with a bottle of water, you thanked him with a wink and he watched you swallow the whole thing before he proceeded to ask you the second question that plagued his mind: "Do you perhaps hide some secret trauma that permanently changed your behaviour, using sarcasm, smirks and jokes to protect your scared inner child in order to not get hurt again?"

"Hmmm... The day I found out my mother was Santa Claus I went bananas, but I wouldn't say it scarred me for life. Do ya want an M&M, colonel?"

He fucking hates you. He hates you. König aggressively snatched a handful of M&M's and stormed away. That night he swore he could hear your laugh echoing inside his head. Why couldn't you leave his fucking mind? What was it with you? Were you doing it on purpose?

_____

You were definitely doing it on purpose.

You have to be patient with König. But he was so hilarious and scary, it thrilled you to watch the two meter tall behemoth of a man walk near you and sneak watchful, calculated glances your way when he thought you weren't looking. If someone dared to ask, you'd easily answer with the honesty everyone knew you posses: You'd fuck König without a thought.

He's so feral in battle, so demanding and intimidating on the comms. His ridiculous voice made him all the more adorable contrasting with his appearance. Oh fuck that. Even his appearance was ridiculous, he looked like the red guy from that creepy show called "Don't hug me, I'm scared" or one of those executioners from the Shrek movie. But he was HOT, with that slutty waist accentuated by his bulky back, those long slender arms that could lift anything on his way, you saw him lift a fucking car a few inches so an injured woman could scape, and as she cried of relief you could feel your pussy crying as well at the sight. And oh his hands... The way he used them, so elegantly but rough, they'd make a beautiful necklace. His voice, as unfitting as it sounded coming from this KorTac monster, made you itch to hear more, his accent was so attractive that it quickly made you addicted to sound of it and your brain pondered on how he'd sound while doing other things. Lucky you, when the stars aligned and you two coincided in the gym you made sure to be close enough to hear the quiet grunts and sighs from the colonel as he trained, to your surprise he never moved away as if he knew what you were doing and thought nothing much of it. Safe to say, you'd gladly eat whatever interaction König graced you with with a speck of salt.

Though, when you begun paying attention to the details (because it was hard to guess his thoughts without seeing his face) You noticed a few things about the colonel that indicated he had a severe case of social anxiety. The way he self isolated, how he forced himself to interact with people resulting in very awkward conversations that led to him coming up as rude to what he got frustrated and scaped the scene, how he loved his job because you were convinced that he thought he was only good at killing. That made you wonder if he had other hobbies... It's funny to imagine a tall, muscly guy like him baking or making origamis.

______

Today you saw the ultimate signal that your big crush wasn't a people's person.

You two were on a meeting with some other KorTac members. König was peeling an apple and had finished it rather quickly as all of you spoke, but he spent ten minutes with the remnants of the fruit slowly browning and drying on his hand, so you decided to test your theory by walking to the near trash can to throw a random paper you crumbled quickly, after a few seconds König abruptly stood up to throw the dried fruit remnant, the tall Austrian glanced your way before he sat again and kept to himself. Okay, so judging by this and how stiff he looks, König doesn't know exactly what to do with his body around people, he needed an excuse to stand up and throw the finished apple so he waited for anyone to use the trash can to go after, BUT he waited a few seconds to stand so he wouldn't look like he was waiting. Must be stressful to be on his shoes. Interesting, but maybe you were overthinking too much, so you decided to do a final test that would definitely tell you if what you thought was right. You didn't want to come to this unless it was really necessary... You'll probably have to apologize later.

You directed all the attention to König by asking a number of things, (obviously work related) that caught the attention of everyone in the room taking the poor colonel by surprise, his cristal blue eyes widened for a minute before he composed himself answering everything you asked with a professional tone until you spotted the tremble on his hands, poor König noticed your attention drift to his hands so he slid them under the table. That's how you knew it. He couldn't handle being the center of attention for prolonged amounts of time. Your poor baby...

You gave him a sympathetic look that again took him by surprise, but by that time König had called the meeting over, gathered his things and walked out before you could approach him.

Damn you and your stupid beautiful voice and worried eyes trying to comfort him discreetly.

Gloved hands fidgeted with the bracelet on his wrist. König remembers the little girl who gifted him said thing. The day him and his team rescued her and some other orphans from a building about to explode, the worried colonel spent a few minutes comforting the little girl until she pulled the orange bracelet from her small SpongeBob backpack, he chuckled at the gesture and had never taken it off since. They even shared some letters from time to time, he held a piece of little Astrid in the form of a cute bracelet and she held a piece of him in the form of sweet spoken letters.

König saw her kind eyes in yours and it squeezed his heart so much he felt suffocated. Why would a teasing little vixen like you have such kind, gorgeous eyes? It was weirdly comforting that someone would look at him so softly like he wasn't a monster for once after so long.

His heart begun beating faster, his head was so full of questions about you it infuriated him. Long legs carried the colonel to the gym absentmindedly, like his body craved to ease some tension, but at the last minute he turned to the left corridor further from the gym, went to the right and finally approached the shooting range's door.

"Scheibe..." König cursed lowly, he could have very well bursted the door out of it's hinges, his gloved hand (still a bit shaky) took his favorite riffle from the top right corner of the shelf while he shot a backward kick to push the metallic door closed. He spent fourteen minutes shooting targets while mauling at your last interaction, rage swirled his insides and yet he couldn't fully hate you for asking questions, after all it was work-related, and the last soft gaze you gave him spoke volumes that you didn't want to advert all the attention to him out of malice. König was reloading his sniper rifle when he heard a gentle thud indicating someone had entered the room.

"You'd make an amazing sniper." You spoke softly trying not to startle him.

"You come to mock me? Laugh all you like. I'm well aware I'm too huge to be a sniper." He spoke in resentment over his shoulder before redirecting his focused gaze to the target ahead.

"I always say size doesn't matter! As long as you know how to handle your weapon, you'll make any girl blush."

Your dark humour takes König by surprise and he misses the dummy's head, he tries to hold back the chuckle that threatened to spill from his hidden lips. Luckily the shirt he wore as a mask shielded his face enough to make it look like he was holding in a cough or a sneeze but you weren't stupid. When he turns to face you placing the riffle to the near table he gets startled by how close you are, the smirk accompanying your lips as you weaseled close to his very sacred personal space made him curse lowly in his mother's tongue. The tall Austrian stepped back and you rose your hands in mocking defeat.

"Alright, I get it, personal space. Jus' wanted to hear ya laugh..."

"I didn't." He hisses.

"Didn't ya? I thought I heard it, must have been the wind."

Your sarcasm often infuriated König who never seemed to get a good grip on his English, so it was hard for him to detect when you were being serious or just pulling his leg. His hands flex on his sides, tiny waist move side to side as he balances his weight before he crosses his arms and leans his back to the wall. König raises a brow when your smirk morphed into a sincere apologetic smile as you admired his stance six feet apart from him.

"I'm sorry for what happened back there." You said honestly, he sucked in a breath. "Didn't want t' put ya on the spot."

The Colonel's cerulean eyes widen in surprise before directing his gaze to your tank top blinking rapidly. It was easier to listen if he wasn't looking directly at your eyes. "König..." Your voice was honey making shivers run up his spine and his skin erupt in goosebumps, his hands trembled even when he fisted them on his crossed stance. "Why don't we start again? Call me paranoid, but I feel like there's tension between us and not the type I'd like."

König wasn't shy, he wasn't, but that last line of yours made him feel like it, and it wasn't an ugly feeling? But it was a little uncomfortable, foreign, it squeezed his heart in a suffocating way, his hands were clammy, he felt weirdly light like if it wasn't for his tapping foot on the floor he'd float away. König understood what you were saying and it comforted him that you were on the same page, the weird unsteadiness between the two of you becoming rather unbearable and a constant topic on both your minds, it was relieving that you thought the same way. Suddenly the ugly anger he had for you quieted down.

The colonel lifted his hand your way offering you a handshake you took with mirth.

"I'm colonel König. Y-you are...?"

"Goddamn. Ain't your parents bit' egotistical? Namin' their baby boy 'king' in their native language." You say with a snicker shaking his hand. He takes it back abruptly but you don't flinch. "I'm Sargeant (c/n). My name is (y/n) (l/n). Is König the name written on your birth certificate or were you called somethin' else?" You press.

König is taken aback by this. When was the last time someone had asked the colonel his name?

"I am..." It tasted foreign on his tongue, like he had forgotten the sound of it, the taste of his own name on his tongue. "My name is Andreas Dobler. That's... That's my name." His name wasn't König, he remembers the man he left behind all those years back, the man under the dark cloak. Before things went to shit, before becoming colonel König.

"Andreas. What a curious name, never heard of it-"

"Say my name again." König interrupts. His voice weak but demanding and desperate. He loved it. He loved the sound of his name on your lips. It was strange, sweet... Arousing, even.

You blinked angling your head up to take a better look at his half-lid eyes. This time König didn't look away, your eyes met and suddenly the ugly tension from before was morphing into another type of tension, your heart beats faster in sync with his. You didn't know you were getting closer until König placed a hand on your waist and then the other, not pushing, not pulling, he simply laid them there and it came so naturally, your playful smile wavered slightly as your hands landed on his shoulders, he shivers. You tilted your head to the side and he was so lost in you, your aroma, your eyes, your lips, your touch, he didn't realize he was returning the head tilt.

Your lips parted, pink tongue darting to hydrate your dry lips until your pearls were visible from the gap, and his eyes catch every movement your mouth makes when you whisper "Andreas."

"Again."

"Andreas-"

"Again..."

"...Andreas..." Your hands slowly move to his chest, his breath hitches. His name has never sounded so sensual whispered by anyone's mouth. You were... You...

"You..." He isn't sure what to say. You are not sure either, suddenly your wit has abandoned you it seems. "You intrigue me." He decides to huff out, accent heavily pronounced.

There's a thousand thoughts swirling on König's mind, he has shared his name but it suddenly didn't feel enough, he wanted to show you who he was, his past, his thoughts, his hopes and dreams, even his face. How can a simple woman like you make König feel so much? Because you were no simple woman. That's why when he felt your small hands slide up his chest to the hem of the shirt that composed his mask, König didn't tense up, in fact, his shoulders relaxed embracing the touch of your fingers gently feeling his neck under the cloth, his stubble, his chin, his high cheeks... Gloved hands grab your wrists.

You stop, still looking up at him noticing the heaving of his chest and how lost in awe his gaze seemed.

"Not yet?"

"I-i... Do not..." Mind. He didn't want to refuse your touch but at the same time it was so overwhelming.

You give a small nod, König lets go of your wrists and you take this opportunity to nuzzle his cheeks, he gasps landing his hands on your waist once more, squeezing the flesh over your tank top. The feeling of your fingers on his face was so foreign it felt like you were touching a piece of his soul.

"Don't you worry, darling..." König lets out a small whimper at this. "I'm rushing things ain' I? We were just getting on the first name basis and I had to screw it all..." You wanted to sound apologetic, you promise, but it was so hard when your colonel was practically purring at the feeling of your soft hands scratching his stubble.

König was putty on your hands, he has never felt this way. His cheeks burn in embarrassment, he tries to move back but remembers he's already against the wall, and you, a small thing like you have him cornered like a honey badger hunting a lion. His lip wobbles and he tilts his head to the side as he feels your hands massage and explore his neck and jaw in long, gentle motions.

"Shy lil' thing... Aren't you pretty hiding under there? Maybe you are too beautiful to allow anyone the pleasure of a simple look. Like a sweet Ferrero Roche firmly wrapped and ready to be eaten." You whisper, voice raspy before you chuckle when his Adam's apple bobs with a swallow. Your body is now pressed compleatly against his, your dear colonel's hands tremble on your sides as he fists your tank top. He's nervous, he's shy, but you know he is enjoying this judging by the way his teary, half-lid eyes blink slowly every time you feel a new inch of skin.

"...Sag bitte mehr, ich flehe dich an..." (Say more please, I beg you.) König moans out, his german accent so strong masking how weak he was feeling at the moment.

He loved your voice, your touch... Your everything. The colonel ran his fingers on your lower back encouraging to continue, meanwhile he very slowly tilted his head higher allowing you more space on his neck to massage and scratch. You chuckle darkly feeling his member poking at your belly, your body instantly pressing harder against his cornered torso.

"You like the sound of my voice, colonel?" You humm, he makes a small noise. "Andreas...?"

His shoulders shake with the force of his shiver, nails digging deliciously on your lower back, you chuckle delighted at the sight tilting his chin to the other side to feel his nape, his ear and some locks of hair. "ich begehre dich..." The Austrian groans, his member now fully erect twitched delighted by the delicious pressure of your torso against it and your soft ministrations to his neck.

Both your radios churr alive until a voice breaks the static, a random operator checking on the comms. König almost knocks you over with how fast he straightened his back and the way his strong grip held you back, his chest heaving fast, eyes wide and vulnerable. You take the opportunity to grab him by the hem of the shirt he uses as a mask.

"Wait-..."

König freezes when he feels cold air hit the heated skin from his neck. You had lifted a portion of the cloth revealing the part you were previously massaging, caressing and scratching. His head moves up to the side trying to hide from your touch, his hands shoot backwards planting on the wall as if a force had taken them from the previous grip he had on you.

"I hope you can forgive me colonel... Can't help it..."

There's a long gash on his neck, a very old scar that seemed to be product of a knife fight or even a bullet, it's crocked and it goes up probably to his right ear. You lean close on tiptoes because he couldn't crouch due to how shocked he still felt, and you planted your wet lips on the surface of the sensitive scar. König's throat rumbles with a groan, his powerful hands finally make the move to take you, to cage your body impossible closer to his. A hard roll of his hips make him gasp in relief and you loudly huff when he handles you to where he was previously caged, his hands soon making small effort to lift you up, both legs wrapped around his waist and he THRUSTS. You are still kissing, licking and nibbling his neck, your hands exploring the long bulky surface of his back, König moans delighted at one particular bite until-

"Shit."

König turned his head back so fast you are sure his neck is rotatory, two pairs of eyes look in shock at Horangi who is standing there holding the rifle König had previously left before all of this happened. Your colonel was frozen in embarrassment his shaking hands still held you up and his boner was no longer stabbing you, the thing died at the speed of light.

"Jesus Christ. You gonna keep staring or you wanna join us, tiger?"

König snaps his head back at you comically fast, icy eyes glare in surprise, horror and astonishment.

"As fun as that sounds I'll leave you two to your games... 'sides, I don't think you'll be able to handle König alone, imagine the two of us. We'd ruin you." The Korean's response made you laugh enchanted with his wit, he walked out the door in quick strides leaving you two alone once more.

König huffs glaring at the wall behind you. The sudden unwelcome presence of his friend seemed to had robbed the magic from the moment. Your Colonel's body shagged slowly lowering your body, and the moment your heels touched the ground his head leaned down falling to the crock of your neck, the feeling of the warm cloth of his mask made you humm. He kissed your clavicle over his mask and you ran your hands to his shoulders until König slowly retrieved.

He took two steps back, with a very noticeable defeated look.

"Hey. We can keep going whenever yer up to. Don't look at me like that, sweet thing." Your voice carried a playfulness that comforted him from the sudden feeling of defeat.

König couldn't meet your eyes, his voice was shaky "I'm just not like this-..."

"Andreas-"

"DON'T -...!" He barked, startling you both.

It was too much, too sudden, too weird, too suffocating. He liked it at first but... König couldn't put into words what he was feeling right now. He hated that the moment was cut short, he hated that he felt like it was his fault and he hated the way you are looking at him with so much concern like when you two were at the meeting.

"Verzeihen Sie mir." He muttered giving you a final short glance before he rushed out of the place leaving the door open and your startled self still leaning on the wall.

You recognized those words even if you didn't know much of German.

"Forgive me." You translated in a whisper.

Will you?

#call of duty modern warfare #cod #witty reader #konig x reader #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig x reader angst

[ivaspinoza]

Does a writer love to write?

Oh, to be a writer! A poet, an artist. What a blessing — or a curse? I said this before, as a joke, that "writers are cursed to write, no matter what" happens or how long it takes between intervals. Writers will write. They might struggle, mostly inside their own heads, but they will write. And they will feel accomplished for doing that.

During my block time, I used to try and try to write, not because I had to, but because I couldn't help but to keep trying and writing the weirdest words, absolutely nonsense shit — until one day, I went back on track. Not writing was never an option. I tried to give up this, many times when I was at a bad place mentally. I felt that I wasn't a writer because I wasn't writing, but this only led me to this previously shared conclusion I keep as a mantra:

"I do not write because I want to be a writer, I write because I am one."

Some people will lick an artist's shoes and treat them as their saviour. This is the same type of people who might think having a degree makes them automatically smart, that every doctor knows what they are doing, and that artists are somehow a superior class of people. I was talking with my beloved @goodluckclove about it today (the main reason I'm writing this), about how being an Artist, or a Writer, is just another job, like being a Teacher, a Baker, a Parent, a CEO or a Janitor. Some artists will even tell you they had no "talent" at all, they just decided to commit and learn. I can draw and I always tell people that it is pure muscle memory. Just practice. Just commit.

But there is also that sparkle, that inspiration, that epiphany, right? That thing that art causes. What makes some works of art shine and hit you with eternal impact? Just practice? This is a long, deep, crazy, boring, infinite debate, but to me the answer is simple.

It's the soul.

That's why AI will never be able to do it. The soul carries memory, information, patterns, feelings, mysteries, and language (unspoken, holy, different languages, that we don't know much about). Some works are technically fantastic but soulless. Some are full of soul, but lack skill. However, the soul is always a part of it, as it is for a doctor when their soul shakes in grief after putting everything they had in for a 72-hour surgery just to lose their patient. Everything goes through the soul. Have you met a soulless doctor? I have.

What about a teacher helping a student to overcome their difficulties? A mother in a 72-hour labour to deliver her baby, with a father who didn't leave her side? Parents that actually take their time and energy to raise conscious, cared for and loved human beings? When a CEO thinks of what is best for the team, and comes up with a brilliant idea, instead of just caring about money? When a janitor makes a place clean and tidy for others, instead of neglecting it? It is not the job itself that is important, but the motivation, the intention, and the heart behind it. That is what makes it valuable.

Our trades will always affect the ones around us. Human nature is deeply connected to the desire to be useful and serve. Not to be stuck at this point forever, but to me, a big reason for so much pain and depression in the modern world is how self-centred our culture pushes us to be. "All about me"! Too much thinking in your head will make you crazy (I would know). But when we are useful, we find peace and rest from ourselves, we connect, and we are in reality, grounded in the present.

Will you love it every time? Nope. Not naturally. But do we have to hate it?

As an artist, poetess, writer, I can tell you that I didn't always love to do it. Sometimes, it was painful. Sometimes, it brings me physical discomfort or it can be disturbing because of my own limitations and issues — the artist himself is in his work (I will die on this hill, because of the soul). But I don't believe and I won't ever advocate for the tortured artist figure, for the "I hate being a poet", although I can't think I ever got these words from any poet.

"I hate making art!" "I hate my kids!" "I hate to live!"

I think it's time to wake up to the levels of desensitisation we have come to. These contemporary times unfold in absolute glorification of evil as if everything painful and ugly was "more artistic". We don't have to avoid hard themes and make it taboo out of them, but we do need a counterbalance. We also need responsibility and honesty when choosing our themes and our artistic or literary approach. And we do need to stop hating things all the time. We need a mature creative world.

It is easier and faster to break than it is to build. It's easier to hurt than to heal. Look around. We have almost nothing left to "break" at this point. I'm in search of beauty again. Out with lanterns. The beauty in you and in me. Not for the glorification of the artist, or of the art itself, but for the Love that keeps me going, that designed me for a particular job, and that I plan to execute in love.

"Let all you do be done in love", it's written. But because I know Love is not only feeling, even when I don't feel like doing it, I will go back into Love, into humility, and do it to the best of my strength. I will do it so that when I have the opportunity to serve someone by it, they feel love. We put our soul into it, and it's not an aesthetic, not a fancy ethereal trend; there is no need for applause. I will do it like that because in that doing is the reward itself, not in the praise or the prize.

All is vanity. Love is the reward.

#writers on tumblr #writers and poets #poets on tumblr #writeblr #poetry #spilled ink #creative writing #ivatalks #on writing #about writing #writers on writing #writers of tumblr #writers and readers #writers #women poets #women writers #female writer #female poets #poetess #novel writing #fiction #original fiction #writing advice #writing tips #how to write #writing help #thoughts on writing #writerscommunity #writer stuff #tumblr writers

[panlight]

can i be anon? i think you've said this before but i couldnt find it (hell site search function sucks), but i remembered other day how funny it is that bella's big crisis is 'when i'm a vampire i won't want to sex edward anymore because i'll be so blood thirsty rather than thirsty, so i better have sex with him as a human, even though that has a high chance of killing me' when didn't emmet and rosalie get married when emmet was a newborn? and they were strangers she already knows and loves edward.

Oh, yeah, this was weird for me, too. There's also Esme/Carlisle.

To be fair to SM I guess we don't really know how long it took between meeting and relationships to develop for these couples, but it's pretty clear from the backstories that the attraction was there during that first newborn year for both Emmett and Esme. There's also Bree and Diego, Shelly and Steve, Benjamin and Tia, etc. Plenty of vampires formed couples when one or both were newborns.

I suspect Bella's hang-up about it is more about making Renesmee happen, though. She HAS to have sex with Edward as a human for Renesmee to be conceived, so there has to be SOME reason she's so hell-bent on it, and I guess that reason is she's afraid she won't be in a headspace to desire him that way during her newborn year. So Emmett and Esme can't reassure her, because then the pregnancy won't happen.

Makes me curious how it played out in Forever Dawn. Without New Moon and Eclipse, presumably there was no long back and forth negotiation and compromise about marriage-sex-vampirism in that order. From those who have read it, Bella seems much more on board and happy about the wedding. Was Edward also more chill about the idea of pre-vampirism sex? Was it more like, "oh we'll turn you after the honeymoon so you don't spend it writing in pain" but whoopsie, she got pregnant?

(If anyone who has read FD sees this and wants to fill me in . . . I would love that).

Someone once compared the whole thing to like that logic puzzle where you have to get a wolf, goat and cabbage across a river but can only take one at a time, so you have to do it in a really specific order so that the goat isn't left alone with wolf (wolf would kill it) and the cabbage isn't left alone with the goat (goat would eat it).

Bella and Edward have to have sex before she becomes a vampire so Renesmee can happen, but they also have to have to wait until they are married to have sex because that's Edward's condition.

#asks #forever dawn #breaking dawn

[f4iry-bell]

Before I tell you about my request, I have to acknowledge that you are so FREAKING amazing at writing!!

Don't know if you've already done these before, but Jameson's POV of when he first met Avery, during the will reading, when he first snuck into Avery's room, and when Avery was leaving Will Blake's ranch in tfg. It's probably a lot, but I've been wanting to read about these for a while and I also know a good writer who is capable of doing that. Also, just know that I'm probably going to request you many more things to write about.

first of all I'm HONOURED. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR TRUSTING ME. second of all, i really hope this satisfy you and is enough 😭😭I'm no jlb, this is completely of what I think jameson would have thought from my understanding. if you think otherwise please do let me know. again, it's completely from my understanding of jamie's character. also sorry it took so long.

NOTE: all four parts are here. pretty long. some copy pasted dialogues!!!!!! hope you enjoy.

Jameson meeting Avery for the first time.

It was not easy for the Hawthornes, everyone grieved in their own way. But for some reason the grievance was put aside today by everyone, Jameson would like to say he has put it aside as well but the bottle in his hand and the obvious intoxication would say otherwise. It is not a good idea to get drunk during an important time like the reading of the will of the great Tobias Hawthorne, and it's definitely not a good idea to leave your family hanging while one sits at the edge of the balcony, only supported by the railing. But that's exactly what Jameson Hawthorne did.

His mind was all over the place looking for something, something that would give him the thrill more than sitting at the edge of the balcony, drunk. He might have been wrong, but there was a two out of ten chance that he may be right. He refused to look away from the brown haired girl who was standing in the backyard, completely mesmerised by the Hawthorne backyard. As she took in the view he took in her features and movements. He finally decided to interact in the only way he knew to find out what she is.

“If yes is no and once is never , then how many sides does a triangle have?” His words slurred but it got her attention. She looked up to him, bending her neck backwards.

“You’re going to fall.” She told him.

He smirked. “An interesting proposition.”

“That wasn’t a proposition,” She said.

He offered her a lazy grin. “There’s no shame in propositioning a Hawthorne.” Jameson’s smirk grew a bit wider when she noticed that he was shirtless.

“You must be Mystery Girl,” he said.

“I’m Avery,” She corrected.

She looked at him like anyone who knew what recently happened in the Hawthorne family would look at him, wondering why his face was anything but filled with grief. He wouldn't blame her for being a little judgemental. He is very good at grieving in his own way and an expert at hiding it.

“Whatever you say, M.G.,” he retorted. “Can I call you M.G., Mystery Girl?” He was trying to taunt her at this point.

She crossed her arms. “No.”

He brought his feet up to the railing and stood. He wobbled, he could see her thinking about something with worry and panic when he put one foot in front.

“Don't!” But he didn't listen to her. He twisted and grabbed the railing with his hands, holding himself vertical, feet in the air and dropped. He landed right next to her.

“You shouldn’t be out here, M.G.” He told her.

“Neither should you.” He can tell that her heart is beating fast. It was so obvious. Janeson’s heart was racing too, he told himself that it was because of the stunt he just pulled.

“If I do what I should no more often than I say what I shouldn’t”—his lips twisted—“then what does that make me?”

She sighed like she just realised who he is. She was taking in his features to make sure, especially his eyes, and his abs.

“What,” he repeated intently, “does that make me?”

“Drunk,” She said. Jameson was about to say something else, he was ready with a comeback but she added two more words. “And two.”

“What?” Jameson Hawthorne said.

“The answer to your first riddle,” She told him. “If yes is no and once is never , then the number of sides a triangle has… is… two .” She didn't explain her answer, she didn't have to.

“Touché, M.G.” Jameson ambled past her, brushing his bare arm lightly over mine as he did. “Touché.” He was impressed and intrigued.

Two out of ten, this time the odds were in his favour. And now that Jameson Hawthorne got the answer he wanted from this Mystery Girl, he has no plan to leave her alone. That moment he knew she was special. And his grandfather brought her here for a reason. He will find out why.

The Will Read

Jameson made his way to his wing and managed to find himself a shirt and suit jacket. He checked himself in the mirror once before heading to The Great Room. Once he was inside his eyes looked for a specific pair of brown eyes but he realised Avery hadn't arrived yet. He went further inside and stood with the rest of his family. Soon he watched Avery make her way inside and made eye contact with him. He immediately gave her a cheeky smile and a salute, he can also noticed Grayson stiffened at his action through the corner of his eyes.

Once the lawyers made sure everyone who is mentioned in the will was in the room they started. First, they handed an envelope to everyone in the family and to Avery as well. They were asked to open the letters after the will reading. Jameson is already curious about his letter and what the old man has to say to him and to Avery Grambs. His eyes were fixated on her envelope for a whole minute before focusing on the reading prudently.

“Mr. Hawthorne stipulated that all of the following individuals must be physically present for the reading of this will: Skye Hawthorne, Zara Hawthorne-Calligaris, Nash Hawthorne, Grayson Hawthorne, Jameson Hawthorne, Alexander Hawthorne, and Ms. Avery Kylie Grambs of New Castle, Connecticut.”

Everyone's eyes including a pair of green ones were on her. Avery Kylie Grambs.

“...To my daughters, Zara Hawthorne-Calligaris and Skye Hawthorne, I leave the funds necessary to pay off all debts accrued as of the date and time of my death.” Mr. Ortega paused before speaking, he looked directly at Zara and Skye then back to the will.

“Additionally, I leave to Skye my compass, may she always know true north, and to Zara, I leave my wedding ring, may she love as wholly and steadfastly as I loved her mother.” Another pause, more painful than the last.

“Go on.” That came from Zara’s husband.

“To each of my daughters,” Mr. Ortega read slowly, “beyond that already stated, I leave a one-time inheritance of fifty thousand dollars.”

Jameson wanted to smile but he knew better, just like how he knew that his mother and aunt won't be the one holding the old man's entire fortune. It's not a surprise, none of them should be surprised that the person who would be taking the fortune would be the heir apparent, his brother, Grayson Devenport Hawthorne.

There was a mini quarrel between Zara and Skye on how Jameson and his brothers became the old man's favourite, how Skye gave them to him so that her sons would have the inheritance.

“Now, if I may continue…” Mr. Ortega looked back down at the will in his hands. “To my grandsons, Nash Westbrook Hawthorne, Grayson Davenport Hawthorne, Jameson Winchester Hawthorne, and Alexander Blackwood Hawthorne, I leave…”

“Everything,” Zara muttered bitterly.

Mr. Ortega spoke over her. “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars apiece, payable on their twenty-fifth birthdays, until such time to be managed by Alisa Ortega, trustee.”

Everyone heard Alisa’s audible shock. Unlike his brother Grayson who was utterly shocked and threw knives for the word ‘what’ Jameson Hawthorne thought that this is getting interesting.

The old man didn't leave everything to Grayson like everyone thought the old man would because of the way he was groomed. Or to Nash, or to Xander, or to me. There is only one person left in the will. There could be two things happening right here, and if his guess is right…

“The remainder of my estate,” Mr. Ortega read, “including all properties, monetary assets, and worldly possessions not otherwise specified, I leave to Avery Kylie Grambs.”

And it was indeed right, if you're smart you would have seen this coming right after they read that Tobias Hawthorne didn't leave his fortune to his daughters or his grandsons. The only blood related heirs. But now? A new heiress. Not blood related as far as he knows. She is not a random girl. He knew his grandfather too well to know that he wouldn't randomly write his entire fortune to a stranger. This is something. He doesn't know what she is yet. But he will find out.

Everyone's demeanour changed, especially Skye and Gray's. Not surprised. Even Avery’s, she is in utter shock, he can only say that much.

“...I assure you, there is no mistake.” Mr. Ortega met my gaze, then turned his attention to the others. “And I assure the rest of you, Tobias Hawthorne’s last will and testament is utterly unbreakable. Since the majority of the remaining details concern only Avery, we’ll cease with the dramatics. But let me make one thing very clear: Per the terms of the will, any heir who challenges Avery’s inheritance will forfeit their share of the estate entirely.”

“No will is that ironclad,” Constantine said, his voice acidic.

“Not when there’s this kind of money at stake.” “Spoken,” Nash Hawthorne interjected, “like someone who didn’t really know the old man.”

“Traps upon traps,” Jameson murmured. Trying to look into the old man's mind about this context. Trying to look into her mind. “And riddles upon riddles.” He looked right into Avery's eyes looking for something.

“I think you should leave,” Grayson told me curtly. An order. Typical Grayson.

“Technically…” Alisa Ortega sounded like she’d just swallowed arsenic. “It’s her house.”

“I don’t understand,” She said.

“My daughter is correct.” Mr. Ortega kept his tone neutral. “You own it all, Ms. Grambs. Not just the fortune, but all of Mr. Hawthorne’s properties, including Hawthorne House. Per the terms of your inheritance, which I will gladly go over with you, the current occupants have been granted tenancy unless—and until—they give you cause for removal.” He let those words hang in the air. “Under no circumstances,” he continued gravely, his words rife with warning, “can those tenants attempt to remove you.”

Oren stood between us and her.

“Oren!” Zara sounded shocked. “You work for this family.”

“I worked for Mr. Hawthorne.” John Oren paused and held up a piece of paper. It took me a moment to realise that it was his letter.

“It was his last request that I continue in the employment of Ms. Avery Kylie Grambs.” He glanced at her “Security. You’ll need it.”

“And not just to protect you from us!” Xander added to her left.

“Take a step back, please,” Oren ordered.

Xander held his hands up. “Peace,” he declared. “I make dire predictions in peace!”

“Xan’s right.” Jameson smiled, he knew it and he knew that he is not wrong about this. A random girl picked out from a random place far from home to be The Hawthorne Heiress, this isn't something regular, this a game. One of the old man's games. “The entire world’s going to want a piece of you, Mystery Girl. This has story of the century written all over it.” He reminded her about the media and how the world is going to talk about her.

Avery didn't say anything, she walked outside. He wanted to follow her but instead he opened the envelope that was held by him.

Jameson going to Avery’s room through the secret passageway

Avery didn't stay at Hawthorne House that night, he assumed her bodyguard and lawyer took her to one of the hotel's that was owned by Tobias Hawthorne and now hers. He saw her later the next day solving the keys, yet another game that proved that she is special, she solved it faster than any Hawthorne to start with. That night Jameson read his letter again and again, it took him one read to realise it was a clue, he can't help but read it again to see what it says, where it leads. But he also knew this would be nothing without the major clue, a walking brown eyed clue.

If he was a normal person he would have knocked on her door. Jameson Hawthorne is anything but normal. He walked into her wing and moved a picture frame to solve a simple puzzle to release a handle that popped two inches away from the drawer nearby the picture frame, he pulled it and twisted it four times to make the drawer and the wall it was attached to open.

Secret passageway. It was everywhere in Hawthorne House.

He made his way inside and made his way to his grandfather’s room, now owned by Avery. Once he was close to the fireplace he heard nothing, almost thought she wasn't there. But he gave it a shot anyway.

“Pull the candlestick.”

He wasn't sure if she heard because it was dead silent. So he spoke again “Pull the candlestick on the fireplace, Heiress. Unless you want me stuck back here?” His tone was frisky.

“Pretty sure this qualifies as stalking.” His lips curved into a smile once she said that.

He can tell that she was just pulling it. “Don’t just pull forward. Angle it down.”

She did as he asked. Once he heard the click and saw the gap below, Jameson lifted the fireplace up to the mantle to go through the opening. Once he was in the room he positioned the candlestick back to it's original form.

“Secret passage,” he explained to know if it intrigues her. “The house is full of them.”

“Am I supposed to find that comforting?” She asked him. “Or terrifying?”

“You tell me, Mystery Girl. Are you comforted or terrified?” He let me sit with that for a moment. “Or is it possible that you’re intrigued?

She didn't say anything but he knew the answer. She didn't ask him what he expected her to ask.

“You’re not asking about the keys.” Jameson offered her a crooked little smile. “I expected you to ask about the keys.”

She held the keys up. “This was your doing.” Not a question, he noted.

“It’s a little bit of a family tradition.” He said with a motive. He has done nothing but think about the will reading and raise questions to himself, whys and hows.

“I’m not family.” She tried to make a statement but wasn't sure herself.

He tilted his head to one side. “Do you believe that?”

“I don’t know.” She thought before she spoke. Does she know something? That was Janesons first thought.

“It would be a shame,” Jameson commented, “if we were related.” He spared another smile for me, slow and sharp-edged. “Don’t you think?” Jameson is good at a lot of things, flirting is definitely one of them.

“I think that you already have more family than you can deal with.” She crossed my arms. “I also think you’re a lot less smooth than you think are. You want something.”

Points to Heiress. She's quick.

“Everyone is going to want something from you soon, Heiress.” Jameson smiled. “The question is: How many of us want something you’re willing to give?” He spoke in a way that would make her want to give into him. But her resistance was stronger than he thought.

“Stop calling me Heiress,” She shot back. “And if you turn answering my question into some kind of riddle, I’m calling security.”

“That’s the thing, Mystery Girl. I don’t think I’m turning anything into a riddle. I don’t think I have to. You are a riddle, a puzzle, a game—my grandfather’s last.” He spoke and looked at her very intently. He didn't care how it sounded to her, he was sure of what he believed to be true.

“Why do you think this house has so many secret passages? Why are there so many keys that don’t work in any of the locks? Every desk my grandfather ever bought has secret compartments. There’s an organ in the theater, and if you play a specific sequence of notes, it unlocks a hidden drawer. Every Saturday morning, from the time I was a kid until the night my grandfather died, he sat my brothers and me down and gave us a riddle, a puzzle, an impossible challenge—something to solve. And then he died. And then…” Jameson took a step toward her. “There was you.” He tried explaining to her how Hawthorne House is, how his grandmother was. Why his grandfather chose her wasn't random.

“Grayson thinks you’re some master manipulator. My aunt is convinced you must have Hawthorne blood. But I think you’re the old man’s final riddle—one last puzzle to be solved.” He took another step, bringing the two of them much closer. “He chose you for a reason, Avery. You’re special, and I think he wanted us—wanted me —to figure out why.”

This point he was convinced that she was a puzzle to be solved or a clue that would lead him to something. Something his grandfather wanted him to find, to know. Because the old man knew damn well that Jameson Hawthorne could never resist a game.

“I’m not a puzzle.” Her heart was beating faster because of their closeness or because of what he's saying.

“Sure you are,” Jameson said. “We all are. Don’t tell me that some part of you hasn’t been trying to figure us out. Grayson. Me. Maybe even Xander.”

“Is this all just a game to you?” She put her hand out to stop him from advancing farther. He took one last step, forcing her palm to his chest. That touch shouldn't have excited him, even if it did, he didn't concentrate on it.

“Everything’s a game, Avery Grambs. The only thing we get to decide in this life is if we play to win.” He reached up to brush the hair from her face, and she jerked back.

“Get out,” She said lowly. “Use the normal door this time.”

“You’re angry,” Jameson said. Making her angry isn't helpful, if she's angry with him she may not help. Or see that this is a game, and she is a piece of it.

“I told you—if you want something, ask. Don’t come in here talking about how I’m special. Don’t touch my face.”

“You are special.” Jameson kept his hands to himself, but the heady expression in his eyes never shifted.

“And what I want is to figure out why. Why you, Avery?” He took a step back, giving her space. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to know, too.”

She does, she wants to know. She must.

“I’m going to leave this here.” Jameson held up an envelope. He laid it carefully on the mantel. “Read it, and then tell me this isn’t a game to be won. Tell me this isn’t a riddle.” Jameson reached for the candelabra, and as the fireplace passage opened once more, he offered a targeted, parting shot. “He left you the fortune, Avery, and all he left us is you.”

Avery coming out of Vincent Blake’s mansion (tfg)

Jameson wouldn't forgive himself if something happened inside, if someone happened to either of them. Avery and Grayson. Especially Avery because he let her go inside, knowing the kind of man Vincent Blake is. His heart could pop out any second, it was beating that fast. He tried to keep it cool with all the paparazzi outside. He kept looking at the gate, waiting for her. For her to come out alive and bring his brother, maybe Toby even. Whatever is happening inside, he prays that she is winning. Somehow she must.

His heart skipped a beat once he saw Avery come out with Grayson and Toby. He wanted to run and hug her, he didn't care that they'd cause a scene. but he stopped himself because he saw Toby talking to her, he slowly made his way to them and the car. To let her know he was there. He also let her have her moment with Toby.

He didn't know what happened inside, but from the look of it he can tell that Avery won. Whatever game they played, however she played, she won. And she was safe along with Grayson. That's all that mattered to him at that moment.

When she made her way to him, he didn't ask her what happened. “The knight returns with the damsel in distress,” Jameson declared. He glanced toward Grayson. “You’re the damsel.”

“I figured,” Grayson deadpanned.

“What are you doing here?” She asked Jameson. He can see the victory in her eyes, she was more open with him now that the first time they met. It was getting easier to tell what she was thinking.

“I thought you could use a ride home,” Jameson told her. She looked past him, expecting to see a helicopter.

“Pretty sure you aren’t allowed to land a helicopter there,” Grayson told his brother.

“You know what they say about permission and forgiveness,” Jameson replied, then he focused back on her with a familiar look—equal parts I dare you and I’ll never let you go. “Want to learn to fly?”

Avery smiled and took his hand. He still didn't ask her what happened, he just enjoyed her victory in the air. Just Avery and Jameson.

#jameson hawthorne #the inheritance games #the final gambit #jameson hawthorne pov #the brothers hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #xander hawthorne #avery kylie grambs #nash hawthorne #the hawthorne brothers #avery grambs #the grandest game

[ktaerssoi]

just keep swimming

nika mühl x swimteam!reader

summary: being a swimmer for UConn isn't always easy.

notes: i did NOT mean to make this so angsty, i was literally thinking about something cute while i was writing so idk where this came form. please don't kill me! - kate

(1.7k)

it was hard being on the UConn swim team, not only were the practices grueling, but the meets took hours and hours. this wouldn't be a problem to most, because if you love your sport you would give up almost anything.

and you did love your sport, but you loved your girlfriend even more. which is what made swim meets so difficult. most of the time, it would be from eight a.m. to four p.m.. and it just so happened that nika's game schedule was also within those hours. meaning she usually had a game while you were at your meet, making it hard for you to attend her games.

not to mention she was missing your meets, which wouldn't bother you normally but when it's been happening all season long it sort of gets to you. what if she wasn't coming because she doesn't think it's important?

you knew she had time in the mornings, time that she usually worked out during, but why couldn't she make an exception to see you? you were stressed out, to say the least.

you finally reached your breaking point the night before one of your most important meets against Georgetown.

-

you and nika were curled up together in bed, watching a movie on your laptop. her hands were on your hips, and she slowly started to travel to your back, massaging different parts as you groaned lightly.

"tense for the meet tomorrow? you'll do great baby," she muttered into your ear as she stopped her movements, causing you to turn and face her, the lack of physical contact making you cold.

"you would know if you came to one," you didn't mean for it to come out so harshly, and you watched as her face quickly contorted to one of hurt. "oh im sorry, should i call off my game?" you knew you had hurt her feelings, but she didn't have to come back like that.

"nika you know that's not what i meant." you watch as she sits up a little, biting the inside of her cheek as she crosses her arms over her chest. "okay then, what did you mean? you know i want to go to your little events, i just don't have time."

you roll your eyes at the use of "little events," you knew she didn't value your sport as much as hers, but it still hurt. "little event? that's what i meant, you don't value my things as much as your own! you and i both know that you could make it to the morning part of the meet and keep me company but you just work out with KK!"

you didn't mean to let out your feelings like that, you knew you wanted to talk to her but you hadn't meant to yell. "i'm sorry okay? i don't know what more i can give you." nika wasn't breaking eye contact with you, she wanted to see your complete reaction to her words. it was not a good reaction.

"you're sorry? tell me what you're sorry for. i doubt you could." it's your turn to cross your arms as you stare up at her, her face never showing what she was thinking.

"i'm sorry your silly little pool tricks aren't as important to me as warming up. i'm sorry i have priorities." to say you were unhappy was an understatement. you close the computer that had been playing the movie up until that point, not even knowing how to react to that.

she thought your sport was "silly little pool tricks?" you took a deep breath, nodding. "okay, well then, you can leave then." you weren't slow to notice the scared look on her face. she knew she had messed up, she also knew there may not be a way to come back from this.

"no, c'mon baby, you know it wasn't meant to come out like that. i just, i have other things to be thinking about." you stand up, still heading to the door, opening it for her. "okay, then go think about them. somewhere else."

you weren't thinking, just letting out everything you had been feeling for months. you watched as she nodded, grabbing a few things before walking out of the room and right out the front door. you didn't cry until she left. she thought that little of you?

a few hours later, you got a call from paige.

"hello?" you answered the phone confused, paige never called you. "hey, um i heard about what happened, i wanted to make sure you're okay, nika is all sorts of mixed up." she seemed sincere, which led you to talk to her for almost two hours about the situation. you had felt bad taking up so much of her time.

"it's just, i don't get it, i mean i cheer her on in everything she does. this is the one thing i am the most passionate about, and she barely cares! i just feel shitty, like im less important to her." you had shed a couple of tears in the time you had been on the phone, not knowing who else to talk to.

"mhm, well, i think you should give it some time. don't go reaching back to her, let her come to you. let her know what she's missing." you nod, her words causing you to come up with a plan.

-

UConn won the meet over Georgetown the following day, causing you to go out to dinner with some of your closer teammates. durning your meal you got two messages.

paige 🏀: good job at the meet today! i wish i had time to stop by and watch

nika 😚: hey, can we talk, please? today was really hard and i miss you.

you replied to one message, thanking paige, and letting her know you appreciated her reaching out. you would text nika back later.

you didn't.

instead, you got one too many drinks at dinner and ended up calling paige. you didn't do anything too wild, just, you know, told her everything you had been feeling about nika for the second time. which, wouldn't be an issue had you let her talk when she first picked up. but, because someone is praying on your downfall, you hadn't been made aware that paige was currently with nika.

and nika heard you.

not that big of a deal.

-

it had been almost a week since your horrible phone call with paige. it was friday night, you were trying to wind down for the night, choosing to watch a random movie.

you had done everything to prepare for your swim meet the following morning, it wouldn't be particularly hard, the team not having the best stats by any means.

you fell asleep early that night, missing a text from paige.

"see you at the meet tomorrow morning, bright and early!"

-

you wake up the next morning by putting your phone directly on do not disturb, not bothering to check any messages. you needed to be in the right head space.

you arrived at the pool at 7, getting your events and warming up. your first event was at 8:15, 200 butterfly, it would be easy.

standing on the block, you look up to see paige and nika.

holy fuck. 

the whistle blew almost directly after, and you had a delayed start, causing you to start behind. the whole way back and forth you were thinking about paige and nika.

there was no way you had just seen them, they had a game later, they should be practicing? your thoughts had clouded your mind, and you were lagging behind on the last lap. you caught up quickly, barely pulling through in the last few seconds.

getting out of the water in a huff, you walk over to your teammates, taking off your cap and goggles. as you chat with one of your closer friends you see them again. no way it wasn't them.

you quickly excused yourself to go talk to them.

"paige?" she turns around with a smile on her face, nika not far behind. "hey! we decided to stop by and see what all the hype was about," you nod, looking to see nika holding what looked to be a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"hype is a reach, but thanks. um, so you watched that?" you flustered thinking about nika watching you struggle so much in a simple 200. "yeah, you were really good, and like super fast. i had no idea it was so complicated, i think you swim faster than i run." you looked as nika stunned, you hadn't thought you did good, but to her it was amazing.

"really? that was like, my slowest time ever, i sucked." you laugh a little, noticing paige slowly slip away to find people she could befriend. "seriously?" you nodded, smiling at her shocked face.

"listen, im sorry about what i said, i was embarrassingly uneducated on this, seriously i thought you just did a little free stroke and left. oh! and here, these are um, for you." you watched as she held up the flowers, taking them with a smile on your face.

"thanks babe, they're beautiful." you take them from her, smirking as you see her cheeks flush. "um, i have another event in like twenty minutes, but if you want to come with me to put these in my locker you can." you guys chat the whole time up until your event, and then the whole time after.

"oh my gosh, what time is your game? and where the hell did paige go?" you grab her wrist as you get on your tippy toes to look around, causing her to laugh. "our game isn't for another two hours, we'll be fine, thought we should get going soon."

you nod, upset that she couldn't stay for the whole day, but understanding that she stayed as long as possible. she found paige a few minutes later, mingling with some other girls on the team. you rolled your eyes as you heard her complain about being in the middle of a conversation, smiling to yourself.

"okay, ill see you guys later. oh and hey, text me when you're done with the game, we can get dinner." you smile, kissing nika on the cheek and hugging paige goodbye as you watch them leave.

you guys would definitely be having a talk at dinner.

#wcbb #nika mühl #paige bueckers #wlw #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball

[blackkatmagic]

so here's the thing, I'm not super into the sw fandom right now, as in I haven't been reading much star wars fic, I've been cycling through other fandoms, however, you're keeping me connected cause I pretty much always want to read your work. I finally read flowers for the dead and its so good! very spooky in a way and the implications of the past are just insane, especially since I never dive into sw history (old republic, etc). Kix is wonderful I love him every time you write him and his and granta's interactions are amazing. Plus the other clones and obi-wan are great if fairly useless during the absolute mess Kix is dealing with. I'm so glad we're getting answers about the moons and such, I didn't even know what to expect from them but i fully support kix making an awesome planet for the clones to go hang out that everyone is mad about.

That is one of the most delightful compliments it's possible to receive, so thank you. 💗

But yes! The gffa has so much history attached, and I'm very fascinated by all of it, so bringing it forward to interact with a character like Kix, who's fairly quiet and just...kind of normal?? is very fun. SW should have more ghosts of the distant past rising up to menace the living, I think. And the Rakata are honestly perfect for that kind of thing.

#kat answers

[satansaidnottoday]

Armistice at the library.

Info: Human AU, Satan's Mc, GN!Mc.

Summary: You have been annoying Satan long enough to get a date.

A/N: We do a little jump in the timeline here, we will keep jumping back and forth depending on what story I want to tell.

Monday was Satan's least favorite day. He had to sift through all of the books left in the return box during the weekend and make sure they didn't get damaged. They then had to be returned to their place on the shelf. Still, the smell of books and the soft silence made up for it. From up high on the ladder, he could see the morning sun slowly rising over the shelves and tables. It was such a beautiful view; it calmed him down.

Suddenly he got dragged, his ladder moving a full meter to the right out of his control. He held on to the railing for dear life. A less than dignified screech left his throat.

"Good morning, loser," you said, letting go of the ladder. 

"Mc, for fucks sake." He cursed you, coming down as fast as his trembling feet let him.

You laughed and sat down on your table, putting your books down and your feet up. Out of all of the regulars, you were the only one who would show up at 7 a.m. every single Monday. He wasn't a fan. 

"I could have fallen!" He pushed your feet off the table and looked down at you, breathing heavily. You loved how worked up he got. 

"I would have caught you," you said, grabbing his hand on yours. "I will always catch you," you said, looking up at him with your best dreamy eyes and soft, loving smile.

His whole face turns a lovely shade of red. His hand rips apart from yours, and he turns around, leaving for the counter with a huff. You watch him leave, waiting until he is sitting at his computer to start your own work. 

Ever since you returned to town, you have been going to the library every day to work. Partly because it was much nicer than the teacher's lounge, and it was right in front of the school. Party because you loved annoying the sexy librarian. You actually knew him from high school before you moved out. He was a hothead, you remembered. It was kind of funny to see him put up such a serious facade. 

The next few hours are spent grading papers and writing assignments. Every so often, Satan lifted his eyes from the desk and stole a look at you. Every single time, you winked at him. The last time he sighed so deeply, you could almost see the air leaving his lungs. You took the opportunity to walk up to him.

"Hey, handsome, mind scanning a book for me?" You ask, leaning down on the counter. You put down your copy of Lord of the Flies in front of you. "I need 20 copies of the first 2 chapters.

"You don't have scanners and printers at school?" He asks, turning the page in his own book.

"No, we're poor," you lied.

"Then I wonder why you're the only teacher who comes here to work." He lifted his eyes just to glare at you.

"Truly a mystery." You pushed the book closer to him. He took it and inspected it.

"You're having twelve-year-olds read Lord of the Flies?" He asks, looking at you weird.

"Why not? They can relate to the protagonists."

In reality, your first class of the day started at noon, and you had prepared no reading material at all. You had picked up the first book you saw in your bag.

"Let me check; I might already have a digital copy." He started typing on his computer.

"So reliable; I love that in a man."

"Well, at least this way, your students don't need to read your 'notes'," he said, making air quotes with his fingers. Behind him, the printer started working.

"What's wrong with my notes?" Your voice came out an octave higher than you expected.

"Let's see," he said, opening the book up. "We have 'Oh no oh no oh no'," he pauses to look at you for a second. "Just a bunch of 'damn', 'damn', 'damn', 'these kids are fucked up' and then 'poor piggy' sad face." 

You felt the heat rising in your own face as you took the book from his hands. "In my defense, those kids were fucked up."

He laughed at you. It made you wish the printer would work faster. You didn't like being on this side of the power dynamic.

"I should charge your school for all these copies," he said, stapling the copies together as they came out of the printer.

You snorted. "Good luck with that. They're already paying me with hopes and dreams."

He smiled, a non-malicious smile for the first time. "On that, we can relate at last."

"The woes of government employment." 

You stacked the copies as he handed them to you, and when they were all ready, you pushed them into your briefcase.

"Thank you, good sir." You offered him your hand for a shake, and he reluctantly took it. You pulled a fast one and bowed down to kiss it. Heat returned to his face, and the universe regained its balance. 

"You've got to stop teasing me," he sneakered, taking away his hand.

"Okay," you nodded. "Let's go on a date." 

He put a hand on his forehead, as if you were giving him a headache. "I said stop."

"Stop teasing. That's what I'm doing; I'm being direct," you explained, leaning closer to him. "Let's get coffee."

He looked at you for a few seconds, scanning your face for any hints of foolery. For once, you were being completely serious. He sighed.

"I'm free on Saturday," he said, looking at his drawers for something. After some shuffling, he took out a small magnet shaped like the head of a cat and handed it to you. "That's my favorite place."

"Café gatitos and cream," you read off the magnet. It took all of your strength not to laugh at how childish it looked. Instead, you nodded. "See you there at nine?"

He nodded back, avoiding your eyes. Without another word, he went back to work. You resolved to do the same.

Walking back to the school, you fidgeted with the magnet in your hand. You really couldn't wait. 

Thank you for reading ❤️

#dividers by @cafekitsune #OB!HumanAU #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me! #obey me nightbringer #om! shall we date #obey me fanfic #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #obey me satan #shall we date satan #satan om #satan obey me #satan x reader #satan x mc #satan x you #obey me satan x mc #obey me satan x reader #reader insert #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me gender neutral mc

[askblueandviolet]

Is there anything you would like to highlight from your years searching for the key? Being a 'famous' cowboy must have been fun.

#lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid fanart #monkie kid #monkie kid fanart #lmk #lmk fanart #lmk mayor #monkie kid mayor #blue and violet #Cowboy Mayor was such a mood in Interlude #like this dude was not tolerating anymore bullshit from the criminal they were tracking down #for real though: I think the Mayor would have struggled a lot for the first few years after getting out of the calabash #probably not as much struggle compared to the time period LBD was inside her tomb and was unconscious for like a century #but it was different during interlude because while LBD had no contact with them they didn't really... go anywhere #they sort of stuck around within the vicinity #but in Interlude they actually had to travel around and do stuff #so it was a bit strange for them to be on their own #anyways it all worked out in the end #making Mayor a cowboy was so self indulgent by the way #completely unnecessary but I wanted to write thst segment #tehe

[hypervoxel]

I think Carmilla Carmine had a deal with Heaven, a black market getting angelic weaponry directly from the source. The Exorcists were deliberately leaving behind some weapons during their massacres for Sinners to pick up and keep killing each other with, but not that many. Carmilla went a step further and got angels to keep giving her angelic weapons throughout the year. She traffics them throughout Hell, because angels can't kill a hellborn demon, but other demons aren't restricted by those rules.

It would make her even more reluctant to advertise that the angelic steel can harm angels themselves*. Heaven will cut off the supply if everyone knows. She can't threaten her own business like that!

*I think angelic weapons can only kill an angel if they are removed from Heaven first. If they're in Heaven, their natural environment, a realm made of light and energy, they cannot be killed. Hell is cut off from that energy though, and without it, the injuries caused by angelic steel are fatal.

#carmilla carmine #i. do not think the rushed writing was fair to her at all #she should have had was longer to get over her reluctancy to fight - like her realizing that her family isn't the only family in danger #and realizing that by taking a neutral stance‚ she is only dooming other families to loss and heartbreak #so even though she doesn't want to get blood on her face‚ doesn't want Heaven and Hell to go to all out war‚ #the Exterminations are happening whether she steps in or not. #demons are going to try to fight for their lives and they are going to fail without the weapons she has a monopoly on #like it's compelling! her character could be compelling! #but she's not bc there was 0 screen time for that revelation #and some of her attitude during the Overlord board meeting could be due to the trauma of the Extermination only happening days? prior #but this show was SO quick that it didn't feel like much time passed between then and her pep talk song with Vaggie

[sga-owns-my-soul]

PLEASE i love your caldweir hc

thank you so much for this ask bc i'm taking this as permission to share all my ideas for it bc it's fully taken hold of me and i think about this almost daily at this point okay so elizabeth and steven would get married like mid season 2 (bc i hc them as being past lovers and reconnecting after atlantis reconnects with earth) and i think elizabeth would discover she's pregnant like RIGHT after they get back to atlantis, so she convinces the sgc to appoint the daedalus as Atlantis' Designated Ship so steven could stay in pegasus with her throughout the pregnancy right and carson would be the one to deliver the babies and ar1 would be SO overprotective of elizabeth and the babies AND i think elizabeth would surprise rodney with the name, like i think she would wait until after she's delivered them and her and steven are each holding a baby and ar1 comes in with carson and elizabeth is like rodney i hope you're okay with this but i really wanted my daughters to be a legacy of not just everything you've done for us but for the future of this galaxy and i want to name this one meredith and rodney would get SO EMOTIONAL AND IT WOULD BE SO CUTE (i need y'all to know that i cannot stop picturing rodney holding tiny baby meredith with tears in his eyes, his pinky being held by her entire hand 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹) also just imagine ar1 going on missions and bringing things home for the girls i think it would be so cute also both girls would have the gene simply bc i desperately want to see john and elizabeth taking the girls through the city just to watch their fascination with the city responding to them bc would that not be so cute

#their second daughter would be named poppy #bc steven wanted something with military ties but still something sweet and girly #and he would be so in love with those girls #the few times the daedalus has to go back to earth for supply runs or whatever he's devastated #no one comments on the colonel of the daedalus crying in the gate room while saying goodbye to his girls #bc they all understand #john arranges to keep his team in the city during one of these trips #so they can keep an eye on things so elizabeth can take the girls and go with steven #and she almost cries over it #i have SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS #shoutout to mushroom for helping me come up with half of it #most of it was born from a different au we're writing together #and a lot of this stuff didn't make it in to that au but i couldn't stop thinking about it #and now i'm rotating the idea of making this an au fic #bc i love it so so much #it's so good #anyways #caldweir #headcanons #asks #sga

[ahelpfulpeach]

thing I am eagerly awaiting/hoping for next ep (36)

FCG having a chat with Ashton about the whole “everything hurts all the time” thing and/or taking it upon themself to take on some of Ashton’s chronic pain and whatever fallout from that happens

Orym and Imogen having a chat about grief and Laudna and guilt and such Imogen and Keyleth ALSO having this breed of discussion

just more time for the Hells to discuss Feelings about the whole situation in general like even setting aside from the Moon Plot stuff, a very emotionally central member of the party is dead, and two of the currently alive party members died for a bit, Fearne’s parents and grandmother situation is a whole thing, FCG’s murderbot/trojan horse thing is another whole thing, as are the revelations about Dancer and whatnot, Imogen and Laudna had only just barely had the chance to make up before Laudna died, Laudna had been dealing with Delilah’s influence a lot more recently, Ashton had some Backstory Reveals that are clearly affecting them a lot, Chetney is having some weird werewolfy shit goin’ down that he has not really alerted anyone to, and I’m probably missing some more things but YEAH they mentioned they needed a good round of What the Fuck is Up with That and i AGREE

Fearne and/or Chetney shenanigans in a fancy castle

Percy makes Mister a gun

Percy Regrets making Mister a gun

the whole party contributing to Laudna’s resurrection ritual cuz they’re a FAMILY, DAMMIT

Laudna coming to in a place that’s familiar and full of such awful memories, but this time she’s surrounded by the love and devotion of her new family and she is safe

whatever the fuck Delilah may do about the everything, especially being in Whitestone

#critical role #critial role spoilers #cr spoilers #cr #cr3 spoilers #cr3 #idk i am just RAMBLING #i can't decide if i also want an imodna confession like as soon as she's brought back or like an episode or two after #cuz that emotional high would fit the moment of her coming back but also like #i imagine a quieter moment with just the two of them talking about their fears #like if delilah had been telling her see they don't care about you they chose someone else you only have me kinda shit #and while she didn't fully believe it she was so SCARED that she'd be stuck with her until they both faded away for good #and imogen just saying something along the lines of 'we all dropped everything to bring you back. and even if they all hadn't #'there is NOTHING i wouldn't have done to have you here with me again.' and idk kiss her after that #i also want them to reference the ring cuz THERE IS SO MUCH POTENTIAL FOR EMOTIONAL SHIT THERE #JUST THE TINIEST SHIT LIKE POSITIONING HER DURING THE CEREMONY SO THE HAND WITH THE RING IS ON TOP #or like imogen taking her hand and brushing a thumb over the ring like #pls give it my gay heart REQUIRES #and i'm tempted to just write some of this shit myself but THAT REQUIRES TIME AND ENERGY

[a-mere-dream]

Writing very, very pre-canon is great because there is so much delicious irony you can use! I can have Yue Qingyuan write in a letter:

They say things like "Responsibility while wielding our considerable power is required for the continuing peace," and "It won’t do to set a precedent for the sake of a mere child." What use is power if you can't use it to protect those who don't have it? Why would you have a sword, and yet never draw it? Xiao Jiu, sometimes they seem so very backwards here.

and it's like. Yue Qi. Qi-ge. How I wish you'd remember that when you're older. I love being able to tap into his as-of-then unstiffled idealism and see how he would despise his future self! Character growth (derogatory) <3

#svsss #yue qingyuan #scumbag system #fic coming this sunday! #its an epistolary story taking place during SJ's time with the Qiu #and has a friendship between yue qi and qiu haitang because i think that'd be fascinating #it's around 5.5k now. i'll see what happens during the last round of editing #i don't think this style will be for everyone but it is for me #gratuitously so #because if you want my heart all you have to do is write something epistolary #someone once wrote a fic where they look at svsss through the lens of a history book and i still think about that often #didn't bookmark it unfortunately :( #i loved that so much