#does it tell you a lot about these fuckers' respective personalities? surprisingly yes actually

[illithilit]

I have a metric fuckton of quiz results in my drafts and I want them out. So this is my solution to not wanting to spam the dash

Tagged by: @dracourge ; @mindfoster ; @loomsred

Mourndax

Love feels like.... Fear

the tap of a nervous foot against the floor. those butterflies in the pit of your stomach. a dry throat. heavy limbs. you want them so badly that it hurts, but fear keeps you frozen to the floor; what ifs and hypotheticals run rampant through your head. it's a chain around your neck, love, and it's your choice to let it choke you or break it.

How do you view love? Violent

harsh words and cold glares. painful in the way that your heart burns but can never seem to seek for something better. it is the way you would walk through glass to see a smile, or claw at your own arms just to satisfy another, give and never take for the guilt that comes with wanting is suffocating. emotionally draining and a forever ache that you can't escape.

What kind of love are you? Love as a flaw.

Cowering, your love hides in the dark. In shadows and under cover of night, your love runs from corner to corner, afraid to linger, afraid to be caught. Afraid, afraid, afraid of everything. When you fall in love, it is with alarm bells ringing. Your love is a mistake, a flaw in the code, a purchase you don’t remember making and desperately want to return. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t want this. It’s a problem–– your problem ––and you would do anything to pass it off, burn it away, scoop it out of you with bare hands, or carved out with hooked knives before it can destroy you. Get it out, just get it out now. You don’t care who you hurt in the process, only that you can’t afford to be hurt first. Being loved by you is to be loved by a figment of the imagination. It is to be loved in halves, or not at all.

What tragic character from Ancient Greek literature are you? Cassandra.

you are cassandra from the trojan women by euripides and agamemnon by aeschylus. people have tried to silence you one too many times, but you are resilient. your own dignity and agency have always come first, but at a great cost. you know yourself and your inner strength, but that won't ever stop you from feeling completely alone in the world. sometimes simply enduring the pain won't be enough, no matter how hard you want it to be. above all, you must never lose your unwavering hope in mankind, even as the world forsakes you. it is what keeps you human.

Let me assign you an affection language. A knife called grief.

You have left your house, you have left those people behind, but what are you going to do about the memories which have taken root in you? You can run but not without them. You want someone to sit with you on this cool marble floor while the sun burns everything.You want them to cut your rotten heart and theirs too. You want to sit with it in front of you, let them see you with all your flaws, which haven’t been your fault but you have been made to believe so, and you want them to love you anyways. Because you know you’d do that for them.

What colour does your love feel like? Deep staining crimson.

Ripped out confessions, warm velvety whispers and a heart like an open wound. Your love flows out like dripping blood, beautiful, flawed and twisted. It's gut wrenching, the type of painfully dramatic feeling that makes you clutch your chest, picturing dramatic monologues about love and loving and big screen over the top scenes of sobbing into your pillow until you fall asleep. It rips out of you, clawing it's way up your throat more so than tumbling out. Sticky words that just need to be let out, feelings so big they don't fit inside you. Your love isn't easy, it's a true bloody mess, dripping and staining everything it touches in a desperate attempt to be seen, to be felt, to be loved back. And you, you love so hard, so deeply, so much for someone who carries all that pain. Atlas holding up the world, how are you? Is your love still flowing? Is your heart still open? Still pumping and bleeding and dripping with blood and tears? Still painting your beautiful pictures and writing your love letters in deeply personal red ink? Because I see them, I read them, I love them and you, you, you, you. Clench your chest, scream your love, cry it out. Spill your words of loving, keep your heart beating, keep your love coming and paint the entire world red with it. Make it in your image, keep going, it's okay. Maybe one day the whole world can be red and loved and beautiful just like you.

What kind of hot are you? Rockstar hot.

you're wanted. by crowds of people. a heart-throb, who people hang posters of in their room and tell their friends is "so dreamy." you may not even be a celebrity, you could just be the star of your school. but what you and rockstars have in common is that your entire routine is very well-rehearsed, and you know exactly the right words, the right looks, to draw people's attention. you're a performance, you're an act, a hyperbolized version of a human being that others can get lost in. it's so easy for people to crush on you because they don't realize they don't know anything about you. you're an archetype, a character for others to project onto, and damn if it isn't a fun role to play.

What flavor is your soul? Salt.

ah little kraken, bold are you. restless sailor, dauntless fighter, lower your sword, let me see your shield. ah, of course, they are but the same object. oh wave-tossed ruffian, lend me some of your mettle would you? you have been struck by the sharpest of spears yet you still stand here proudly. but off your guard, elsewhere of the battlefield, you will find your spirit can parch others. your words are but weapons crafted from your soul. little lion, sheathe your claws, or the ones you love the most will suffer. you do not have to be strong all the time love, there's nothing wrong with being soft. vulnerability is not weakness, and if it were, what's wrong with that? strength is not always your greatest tool, your heart is good. put down excalibur, and use your words. you'll find they will carry you much farther. not everything in life is a battle.

How do you need to be touched? Cautiously.

your teeth are bared, as they have been, your jaw aching for so long as growls slip free. you always have to defend yourself. you lash out in fear. you need someone who does not shrink back... a hand falling slowly to your shoulder, however briefly, in a reminder that you do not have to lunge. there is no danger here, now.

What colour are you coded as? Pink coded.

pink, the color of femininity, believing in yourself, and embracing the side of you that you used to reject. you aren't someone who likes to hide, but you do all the time. you don't like yourself nearly as much as you may present, one way or another. you think of yourself as a hollow castaway of someone's little matryoshka doll, or worse, something broken and thrown away. you want to believe that there's more to life, to you, than this broken frame of something you have long forgotten the name of... but what are you supposed to do, after all this time?

Grazilaxx

Love feels like.... Everything

nothing matters but this. not you. not them. this moment, this love that you've built, that is what matters. it is all that there is. you will do anything to keep it this way; no matter what line you have to cross, who you have to step over. the ends justify the means, after all; and for you, this is everything. they are everything.

How do you view love? Isolating.

intense, silent, overwhelming. you have so much to give but it is too much to share. nobody every reciprocates the way you do. makes you feel alien, unwanted. so you keep it and and watch others, hoping one day that could be you too.

What kind of love are you? Love as a religion.

Devotion, that is the name of your love. Your love is an act of worship. Your love is like witnessing the birth of Venus, like seeing the sun come alive, or the stars fall. When you love, it is because you have found God in a lover. You have found the meaning of life itself in the heart of the one you adore. They are everything to you; they are your Maker, and you are their lamb, their flock, their first and holiest worshipper. When you fall in love, it is as a baptism. You are born anew, made a believer in the divinity of the one you love most. Being loved by you is an ascension; it is holy and golden. It is all-consuming, and all-faithful, loyal as the dog. You will never, ever bite back.

What tragic character from Ancient Greek literature are you? Medea.

you are medea from from the argonautica by apollonius and medea by euripides. you are ambitious, ruthless, and unforgiving in getting what you want, and unapologetic in your self-preservation. the truth is, you have let your romantic ideals get the better of you before, and time and time again you have had to relearn how to build up those walls and thorns that guard it. the only person who can protect you is yourself, and you have learned that the hard way. sometimes stoking that fire of hate and anger in your heart hurts more than whatever you're fighting against.

Let me assign you an affection language. A story that ends in blood.

The world has always been unkind, and when you have turned to yourself for comfort you have come face to face with an empty pit which seems to be laughing. You don’t care if it kills you but once you find someone whom you love and who loves you back, you will make sure nothing happens to them. They are yours. You will make a tear in this world and create a new place for you and your love if it comes to that. Because it has always been about love, and it is how it always ends.

What colour does your love feel like? Warm burnt orange.

Riding off into the sunset, the hope of a happy ending, the bitter after taste that still in it's own way smells kinda great. Your love is all bitter hopefulness, all about a broken heart that refuses to quit, all about the unshakable knowledge that a burning fire has a great comforting warm and a soft glowing light, all about the way when the sun comes down there's a beautiful starry night. It's stubbornness, it's the refusal to give up, the clutching of broken shards despite the searing pain and being adamant that dammit you can still make a beautiful stained glass window out of it. Yours is a screaming heart, a pleading love, a bitter and almost belligerent hopefulness that things will still work out even if you have to roll up your sleeves and make them. And god, aren't you tired? Isn't your heart heavy? Is all your hard work worth it? Don't you just want to curl up and let it be? Let the fire turn to ashes and the sky turn dark and let love die down and watch people leave? But you don't, do you? You're the bravest out of all of us, so you pick up the pieces and you keep going, you keep believing and you keep your heart full of hope because some day. Some day you know you'll get it. You keep riding off into the sunset and you keep filling my heart with hope as you go because god, how do I wish you finally get it too.

What kind of hot are you? Math tutor hot.

you're really not here for romance, at all. but whenever you actually interact with people, they're smitten with you. you might be usually overlooked, but for some reason whenever you're helping a peer who likely wasn't responsible enough to study like you told them to before the session, they're always paying rapt attention. you roll your eyes and lecture them whenever they seem distracted, staring at you or the floor instead of the textbook. but it's the moments where you raise an eyebrow, half impressed, and give them a quiet "good work" that makes you such a successful tutor. your praise is hard to come by, and people are certainly going to work to hear it again.

What flavor is your soul? Lavendar.

oh moon child, restless sleeper, tell me what it's like to dream? you float along the margins of reality, picking up the pieces of fallen memories to sculpt into your own realm. you are searching, but your tongue is quiet, quiet, quiet. open your mouth and sing my dear, silence only does you good for so long. and here you planted roots in the darkness, where not even the moon can reach your leaves. there is such a thing as being too practical, for you sail your ship on perpetually calm waters, and never have you spotted land. your mind has wings, uncage them! allow yourself to dream, you are not too far gone. there is no such thing! trust in yourself dear.

How do you need to be touched? Gently.

you need to be held as though you're going to break. you need someone to trace your scars like cracks in a wall, crumbling. their touch is almost painful; you've been without it for too long, without someone to hold you. but, you cannot bring yourself to pull away.

What colour are you coded as? Blue coded.

blue, a study in wisdom, belief, and knowing when enough is enough. you know yourself best, but you know the way the world works even more. you've been wandering in this world a little too long, and maybe that's the problem. you're a wanderer, a vagabond, an oracle, and a prophet all the same. who are you when the curtain call drops the last encore on you? do you dance behind the scenes for a job well done or are you already planning your next show? take a breather, for a moment. enjoy what you've done, enjoy what you have, enjoy the world that you've been wandering for so long. this world is so much better when you realize that some of it is worth living for.

Blurg

How do you view love? Soft.

love that is welcoming, one that encompasses you in its warmth. the feeling of a warm mug after a cold day. familiar huffs of laughter respond in the air as you lean on each other for balance. the feeling of falling on a soft bed of clouds on a nice sunny day. of waves lapping at sand on a beach

What kind of love are you? Love as a threshold.

Your love does not ask for much. Your love does not take. Your love is free, and unquestioned, and here for wherever needs it. When you fall in love, it is as gentle as a breath in the night. It is quiet, and it is effortless. It is tender. If your love was a house, it would readily welcome all who come through. If your love was a hearth, it would warm the hands of whoever stopped by, whether for a day, a month, a year, or forever. When you fall for someone, it is without strings, without conditions, without need. You love for the sake of loving, for the sake of caring for those who need it. You love with a giver’s heart and a giver’s hands and are made so much stronger for it. Being loved by you is to always feel at home. Your love may not always be well-received by those unprepared to linger, but it is unforgettable all the same.

What tragic character from Ancient Greek literature are you? Patroclus.

you are patroclus, from the iliad by homer, doomed by fate to be stuck in a love story that has no place on the battlefield. although you always have the best intentions, you have to realize you cannot save everyone. your unwavering loyalty means you often lose yourself in the process of putting others first. take a deep breath, remember who you are, and that you are deserving of the same love you try to put out. you are kind, you are strong, and you give and you give but it is never enough to protect those you love. in the end, it's not even enough to protect yourself.

What colour does your love feel like? Bright sunny yellow.

Sweet tasting popsicles, summer dresses and shielding your eyes from the sun. Your love is the excitement of something brewing, something growing. It's the almost childish bubbling giggles of something new, but with the potential to stay. It's wide smiles, blinding sunny light and warm bodies that gravitate to one another. It's the the softness, the willingness, the slight holding of breaths in a crucial "what if" moment. It's the impatience too. The bouncing on tiptoes to see further than your eyes can reach, the holding out for a future that never seems to come even though you're ready, you're so so so ready. It's the constant feeling of warm sand beneath your feet, holding out for the crashing waves. And still you wait, dry and impatient and with burnt soles of feet. Your love is sour candy, enjoying it as your nose scrunches up from the aftertaste of it. It's hands that grab and take hold, that reach and ask them to stay and hope and beg and wait. It's bubbling excitement sure, but it's also demanding, focused, driven. It's love like a plan, with a path and route and a clear destination. And you bonce on your tiptoes, and burning, waiting for the soothing water, the crashing waves, you hold onto the melting popsicle, you wait and wait and wait. It's tiring almost as much as it's lazer focused ambition, deeply rooted desire and the unrelenting hope that it will work, that it will come. And it does, I promise it does. The waves crash, the beach floods and the pain passes, the water cool and soothing and you can let yourself fall in, sinking, sinking. And it's good, it's perfect, what you were hoping and more, holding and embracing you and welcoming you into the stillness you always knew you were reaching for.

What kind of hot are you? Bob the builder hot.

i am not saying bob the builder is hot, im just saying you have the hotness of a handyman. you're humble, down to earth, and exist with an easy confidence that takes peoples breath away. you always seem to know exactly what you are doing. you may still be stuck in your hometown, but you have quite the reputation. you do get a lot of business, after all. people around here sure tend to break things an awful lot, and they always call you, listening through the phone reciever with a light blush and bated breath, for your inevitable "I'll help you."

What flavor is your soul? Rosemary.

ah, the old soul, nice to meet again. the time of ages is etched into your bones, you see clearly. you've watched the heartache in this realm and sworn to solve it. but kindness without limits is self destruction. oh little leaf, strong and wise, you seek to bring peace with your presence. I'd be wrong to say you fail at this effort, but you mustn't set yourself on fire to keep others warm. you wish to please everyone, to protect them all. but if you shield the saplings from the sunlight they will never grow, and you one day will wither. protect yourself too. you know there are no happy heroes, so don't be one. be a friend. your loved ones will not forsake you for not being perseus slaying all their demons. you have your own monsters, why not meet them first before you conquer anyone else's nightmares. oh true-hearted paladin you are brave, and you are good enough. you know that right? be true to yourself, one cannot do anything saintly if they did not tend to their own wounds first.

How do you need to be touched? Fervently.

you crave a hug that cracks your ribs... the feeling of your wandering soul being crushed back into the bones that can't seem to hold it. you need a hand gripping yours so tightly you almost fear it may leave a bruise, a reminder that you are here. and that you are not alone.

What colour are you coded as? Yellow coded.

yellow, a study in wildfires, honeycombs, and summer rain. everyone sees you smiling and laughing, happy in all the ways but the way that you know is true to you. everyone believes that nothing bad could happen to you, that you live life so freely that you'd never miss a beat, even if something bad DID happen to happen around or to you. but you're as miserable as the rest of them. you might be warm and gentle, when you need to be, but at the end of the day, you have long since accepted that fire is like you: best to be admired but never touched.

Orianna

Love feels like.... Lightning

you feel like you're on top of the world. like you've been struck by lightning -- you hope that they feel the same. it's all electricity, those metaphorical sparks; all adrenaline and the rush you get when you're near them. they're magnetic, they have some sort of pull over you, and you live off of the high they give you. watch it; lightning never strikes the same place twice.

What kind of love are you? Love as a performance.

Your love is a masquerade, a dance, a work of art. You love with a veil across your face, unable to allow anyone to see the real you. Can that be considered love, you wonder? As a performer, you have all your lines prepared, and you know exactly what to say and when to say it. You’re charismatic and bold, seductive and hypnotic. Your love is a snake’s melody, the siren song of the sea. Your love is enchanting. Your love is melodic. Your love is afraid and fearful and longing. You ache to tear the veil off, you ache to cast poetry aside for the sake of something real and gritty. You’re terrified of the very thought. Being loved by you is to be loved by an artist; it is to be a muse. It reflects others beautifully, but never, ever yourself. Not really. Not truly.

Let me assign you an affection language. Violent devotion.

Everyone seems to think you are faithless, but the thing is you haven’t yet found someone who will bring you to your knees and make you raise your head in reverence. This world has stopped bringing you joy, you want more of the divine. You want to dedicate your entire existence to someone; you want to make them realise they are not something terrible, make them see just how much beauty they are bringing to this world. You want to be the only one for them, the only one they have chosen to love. There’s a god shaped pit inside of you and only they can fit in it. And what if they choose to walk away? Didn’t I say this was violent devotion?

What colour does your love feel like? Cold stark gold.

Fireworks, borrowed lighters and sparklers against a dark backdrop, yours is a love that burns stark and bright. It's scary though, like things that burn always tend to be, but for you it isn't the thrill of the open flames that gives pause and a slight stomach drop of terror, but rather the time when the flames go out, the sparkler ends and the night is cold and dark once again. Fireworks, borrowed lighters, a striken match, your love burns bright and fast and then maybe it passes, maybe the feeling dies out and you're left in the cold once again. And that's the feeling isn't it? Of being bored and waiting for someone to light you up again? To be fair, you do know you don't need it, but then again we don't often crave the things we need. And you crave and yearn and burn in the wait, restless in the knowledge that at some point someone will pass and rub you the right way, that some day you'll light up the night sky bright yet again. There's comfort in the darkness and solace in the predictable loneliness of the in between, but your heart still squirms inside you, waiting and willing and begging to burn up again. Your love might not be comfort, it's not one for the sick days, but then again, there's a reason why everyone waits for the shining lights in the sky during holidays.

What kind of hot are you? Pink panther hot.

you're a modern queen. you sit to the side of the dance floor and drink out of martini glasses, a perfect vantage point to look over your court. you like to see the way people's eyes linger on you, hoping you'll see them, that they'll gain your approval. you are offered drinks by many overeager servants throughout the night. when you finally join the ball, the sea of people parts just for you, and you hear the nervous titters of the crowd who are so captivated by what you'll do next.

What flavor is your soul? Honey.

"sugared mel e lingua serpentis." sugared honey from a serpent's tongue. oh dearest, look how you gleam. how the sunlight dances off your shoulders, how the heavens shine across your wingtips. but you are hollow, hollow, hollow. even the taste of nectar can choke a man. sometimes the sweetest flowers hide the sharpest poison. you lie to yourself, the worst lie of all. you needn't be so obsessed with perfect. the greatest beauty lies in our faults. do you think the moon apologizes for their mara? no, their craters add to their glow. my dear, breathe. you are not an island, breathe, before the honey drowns you. you wish to be lovely, you long to be loved. but did aphrodite trade her powers for perfection? she did not. you can be beautiful, and also whole. be whole above anything else dear. a heart of diamonds is worth nothing if inchor oozes from it. inward. look within and question how well do you know yourself? little petal are you trying to be a god? why? can a god bloom from sullen soil? no. you are whole as you are.

#the moral of the story is I will gut you if I need to; I will carve my way out with only my teeth // Mourndax headcanon. #''you just don't know when to quit do you?'' call me a slow learner but I don't like giving in to tyrants // Blurg headcanon. #I am more powerful than I am damaged and I will rise from any abyss you try to drown me in // Grazilaxx headcanon. #we who wield power adorn ourselves with flowers to hide the sting of our thorns // Orianna headcanon. #Is this a lot to read? yes #do I care? no #does it tell you a lot about these fuckers' respective personalities? surprisingly yes actually #some of these quizzes in particular read them to absolute filth and I'm living for it #also............. and you'll know who you are if you read this.......... #tfw Blurg happens to share his flavor of hotness with a mutual's Gortash muse [X-Files theme] #easily the highlight of my night at home #also ALSO tho #that hotness quiz in particular is cursed af #don't you be talking to me about bob the fucking builder hotness or pink goddamn panther hotness #saying ''I'm not saying bob the builder is hot'' in the first sentence does NOT absolve you op #I wish to study your brain

[divinefireangel]

Scream Princess

SF9 Jaeyoon x F! Reader Smut.

YES I USED THIS GIF ON PURPOSE 😈

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. If this piece of fan fiction is offensive to any celebrity, fandom or culture please let me know so I can take it down. Also note that this is my version of a character or celeb, which will vary from person to person.

Author's Note: Listen. I fucking hate frat boys okay 😂. So this was easy to write cause Jae is hot and I'll do anything for him 🥰 This is the longest fic I've written so far. And I'm proud. I hope you like it anon! I have to warn you, I didn't include the choking sadly 😔 slipped my mind. But I still hope it lives up to expectations 🥺.

Copyright: Please note that this is my work and if you want to publish this on any other platform, take my permission before doing so. Taking an author's work and posting it somewhere else without any intimation is just disrespectful. I readily welcome suggestions and criticisms. That being said, Happy reading! 🤍

Warnings: 18+ ages and female readers (nothing specified with respect to appearance, etc of reader). Fuck buddies/enemies to lovers. We live for that cute shit. Rough sex. Mentions of blowjobs. Fingering (f receiving). Jae calls reader 'princess', just incase I wasn't clear. And it's smut, so your typical smut warnings. Nothing overboard don't worry. But do let me know if I need to add something more. Not proof read. Excuse the errors.

Requested: Yes! By a lovely anon 🖤

frat! boy jaeyoon and you have a love hate relationship. you love him when he chokes u and calls u princess, hate him every other second. maybe he gets so jealous at a party seeing u play pong w someone else that he takes u upstairs to make u not hate him and to let everyone else youre his.

2.8k Words ;)

It was a simple arrangement. When either of you are horny, you fuck. And the rest of the time, you pretend he doesn't exist. Ugh how you hate fratboys. But Jaeyoon is hot. You gotta give him that. And he works out a lot which is very much seen on him and the way he tosses your around when you fuck.

Sex with him is just so fulfilling. He'll give you everything you want. The passion. The speed, always fast. The way his tongue always makes you so hot. Just thinking about it makes you wet. The way he stares at you with so much hateful fire that you mirror, when he's so deep in you. The bruises he leaves when he grips you so tight you can't escape from under him. The soreness you feel after every session of sexual entanglement is just delicious. You hate it.

But what you enjoy most is how he calls you 'princess' while fucking your guts out. The rest of the time, you can't tolerate his existence. It makes you wanna roll your eyes so hard they might get stuck. You hate his playboy manners, the way he always acts like he's so cool cause he's a part of the most popular fraternity on campus. You hate how he's so cocky and acts like every girl walking would just drop their panties if he told them to. You hate that he thinks he's better than everyone. You hate him, so much.

And so here you are, at one of his frat parties, as much as you didn't want to be here. Even after insisting that you're busy and don't want to go to the party, your friends and roommates didn't buy your excuses, stating that you need to get a boyfriend or at least get laid. Oh if only they knew. Standing in the corner of the lawn, a red solo cup with disgusting beer in your hand, you stare cringingly at the mess of hot bodies grinding against each other, desperate for god knows what. Yep. You are definitely not attending another such, event.

" Hey you busy? " A voice asked.

Looking to your right, then left you notice a cute guy, who was clearly looking at you. Blinking you look at him with a blank expression. What's he playing at, you wonder.

" Oh right sorry. I'm Youngbin. We're playing Beer Pong and we're a player short and you are standing here by yourself so I thought you could join us. If you want to, of course. No pressure. " He said flaying his hands around innocently.

Well you do have nothing to do right now, might as well follow the cute guy. Who knows, he may ask you out.

" Yeah sure! I'd love to. I'm Y/N, by the way. "

" Ah. Nice to meet you. Are you a freshman? "

" Sophmore actually. "

" Oh nice. I'm a senior. A few freshmen students are still underage, gotta be careful you know. "

" Oh yeah I get it. But you should know that they are at times wilder than us. " Giggling at your words, he leads you towards the table, finally reaching.

" Oh great you found someone. I'm Zuho. " Another cute guy said. Wow you were really gonna miss out if you'd stayed in your room.

" Y/N. " You said as you shook his hand.

" Okay so it's 3 versus 3. You guys start. " Zuho said to the collective mass, starting the game. Winning a few, and losing a lot of ping-pong balls, you were finally happy. A little tipsy, but still sober enough to do a math problem, you continued to play the game, now having more players on each team. Surprisingly, you were good at the game and not so surprisingly, you started to get close to Youngbin. Slight lingering touches on your arm, your waist and the tingle that went down your body when he moved you hair so you could focus on bouncing the ball. Maybe the ball wouldn't be the only thing that would be bouncing soon.

" YO YOUNGBIN! " A booming voice called. Oh no. You knew this voice. You knew it really well. Begrudgingly you turned to look at none other than Lee Jaeyoon. Of course the fucker is here. He's at every party, trying to hook up with random girls who all seem to be interested in him.

Staring at you intently as he hugged Youngbin, You wished the ground will open up and swallow you whole. Why was he here. You were having so much fun. Well who says you can't have fun with him right here, staring at you like you were a piece of candy. Yeah nope. Time to go home. Vibing with the music, you slowly start to step back as everyone at the pong table started to talk to Jaeyoon. After stepping far enough, you turn on your heel, ready to strint away. Feeling someone grab your wrist, you're turned around with so much force you crash into a hard chest, hands going to his shoulders to stabilize yourself. Looking to see who stopped you, you're met with a cocky smirk, adorning the face of, well you guessed it.

" Where are going? I thought you were having fun so I came to join you. And you decide to leave without telling me? I'm hurt princess. " He says, the smirk only getting bigger as your blood boils with rage. This fucker. If given a chance to wipe out someone's existence completely, you'd choose him.

" Yeah well. Since you're here, it won't be fun anymore. "

" Oh is that how it is? "

Nodding yes, you step away from him, crossing your arms as you try to look tall next to his broad, tree like, super climbable figure. Stop it. Don't think of him like that. Not now at least.

Running his tongue on the inside of him cheek, he looks down at you. He looks hot. And angry?

" Well princess, I'm hurt. Right here. " Pointing at his chest, he moves closer to you. Breath hitching, you stare at him wide eyed, as his face comes to your eye level.

" You seemed to have forgotten out arrangement princess. "

What is he talking about. Was he drunk? Sniffing, you check if he was drunk. He wasn't. Which is shocking. Grabbing your upper arms and pulling you near with his hands, his lips move to your ear.

" I'm not happy with the way you were getting so close to Youngbin. You shouldn't do that when you have me. "

" Excuse me. What. " You say, breaking free from his grip. Looking at him, your face screams, 'Are you crazy'. Well someone should.

" What the fuck do you mean ' you're not happy'. Last I checked, I'm a free independent woman, who is single, and would very much like a cute caring boyfriend AND who doesn't just wish to be someone's fuck-buddy. So if you may, I'd like to go ask out Youngbin. " Smiling bitterly, you try to make your way around Jaeyoon, only to be grabbed by the wrist and pulled back into Jaeyoon's muscular chest.

Glaring at you, he starts to walk towards his room, a path you aren't new to, as his grip on your wrist tightens, pulling you with him. Entering the room, he pushes you in, then locks it. Stumbling, you grab his chair so you don't fall. What. The. Actual. Fuck.

" What in the actual HELL is wrong with you! What the fuck dude. Why are you acting like this all of a sudden? Is it cause I was actually happy flirting with Youngbin? Last I checked, I don't belong to anyone. And especially not to you. So don't go around acting like you're my boyfriend because you aren't. And don't at all act like you care about me because the whole wide freakin world knows that you care about no one but yourself. So move, before I kick you so hard you'll have to go the hospital. " To say you were angry would be so wrong. You were furious. His existence infuriates you.

" I like you. "

" What? " Is he for real? Manipulation? Really?

" I'm not trying to manipulate you. I really do like you. And I wasn't happy seeing you get touchy with one of my friends. " Is he a mind reader or something? Probably. I mean he does know what you want when you just whine and writhe under him as he pleasures- Wait no! Stop.

" Why tell me now? " You ask calmly, well as calm as you could get without letting your guard down.

" Because... I don't know okay! I just, I just couldn't stand there as he got close to you. When it could've been.... Well could be me.... " He said slowly. You've never seen him so, vulnerable. He looks like a sad puppy.

" I'm sorry but, are you sure? " Chewing on your lower lip, you wait for him to reply. How can he like so suddenly. It's not natural right?

" I am. I really like you. And I want you to be my strong independent girlfriend. I want to take you out on a date. A real one. Many dates. Please just give me a chance. You won't regret it. " Taking your hand in his, he rubs his thumbs over your knuckles. Dramatically, you life your eyes up, only to find him looking at you with puppy eyes. Nodding your head slowly, you swallow. Breaking a grin on his face, he places your hands on his wide shoulders as he connects your lips for the first time this evening, his hands wandering from your waist to your hips.

" Oh baby. I'll make sure you never regret this decision. " And with that he places his hands on your ass, tapping it so you jump in his arms. Obliging, you connect your lips again, wanting to feel them melt against yours as you process what's happening. Placing your on the table, he removes yours and his jackets, throwing them on the floor somewhere. Moving close to your seated figure, his hands find themselves on your neck, tilting your face up to kiss you again and again till you're both out of air in your lungs. He slowly grinds his hips to your front, your knees going around his hips as your hands tug at his shirt.

Stepping back he removes his shoes and shirt, exposing his well toned chest and abs to you. Removing your footwear and freeing your hair, you beckon him to come to you as you bite your lip seductively. Smirking, he obeys you, coming as close to you as you want. Lips meet your neck, one hand to your hair, pulling it till your head tilts back exposing the flesh on your neck to him, his other hand wandering up under your top. Hunching it in your palms, you remove your top as he wastes no time to undo your bra, freeing your breasts to the cool air of the room.

Kissing down your body, his lips latch on to your left nipple, hand toying and twisting the other. Arching your body into his face, you grab his hair, pulling it like you always do. Releasing your nipple with a pop, he begins to undo his belt with one hand. Raising his free hand to your head, he advances in your direction till your chests meet, skin to skin, heat to heat, and lips meet once more.

Without breaking the kiss, he discards his pants, leaving him in boxers. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he lifts you up moving the two for you to his bed. Gently he puts you on the matress, hands finding the button of your jeans, undoing it and pulling them down your legs. Staring in your eyes he bites his lip, freeing it sexily he leans his face down to your neck, kissing, biting and marking you with little lovebites.

Rotating your head to the opposite side you gasp when you feel his fingers rub your folds over your panties. Lifting your upper body off the bed slightly your hands grab hold of his wrist that's on your needy mound. Keeping them there you begin to grind yourself on his fingers, releasing breathy moans of constricting pleasure.

" Fuck princess, you look so hot grinding yourself against me. Let me take care of that for you. " He whispers on your ear, chills travelling down your body reaching just where you need him. Letting go of his wrist, you grab onto his shoulders, pulling him down to kiss him again. Moaning in his mouth when he moves your panties to a side with his fingers, touching your wet pussy. Groaning at how wet you are, he easily slips in two fingers in your hole, pumping them slowly. Breaking the kiss you curse at the feeling of his thick digits moving along your entrance.

" Oh fuck. Yes- Please don't stop " You gasp when he touches your g-spot with his fingertips at the same time his thumb finds your clit. Increasing the pace of his fingers, he presses his nose on your cheek, breathing out ragged breaths as he grinds his dick to the matress at your moans. Roughly he rubs your clit pulling out as you cry in protest, feeling empty. Opening your eyes at the loss of warmth above you, you feel his hands pulling your panties down your legs, noticing his hard length, tip so red he would probably cum if your wrapped your mouth around him. Ripping open the condom, he rolls it on his cock, forcefully making your lay on your back as he enters you whole. Crying out at feeling so full with his dick deep in your pussy, you arch your back adjusting to his thick length. Slipping an arm below you when you do so, he licks your lower lip, biting it and pulling at it.

Drawing his hips back just a little, he slowly starts to ease himself in you, body rocking against yours, hair falling down on your forehead, hands grabbing your waist to keep you in place. Pressing your fingers into his back you chant his name, encouraging him to go further and faster. Being the mind reader he is, he pulls out almost whole, before ramming his cock in as fast as he can. Screaming out in pleasant surprise you hug him tighter, allowing him to go faster and faster till you lose your voice.

" Princess. You're so tight around me. Yes baby, scream my name " He growls in your ear deeply, the coil in your stomach getting tighter with each thrust, feeling full till your stomach every time his dick is balls deep. And feeling just as empty when he drags out. Your hole stretched out to accommodate his thick girth, making you think it might tear open. Jaeyoon is driving his cock in and out of you so rapidly you can feel you juices leaking out of your pussy, drawing you closer to your orgasm.

" Jae. I'm gonna- I'm close " You warn him, wanting to cum undone together.

" Yeah baby me too, fucking scream my name for me princess. Please I need you to. Scream princess! " Rubbing your clit, he freezes at sensation of your walls closing around his dick just as tightly as your legs close around his hips. Screaming his name out so loudly, your body jerks and squirms shamelessly as you cum on his cock, squeezing his till he's dumbfolded above you and helplessly cums in the condom.

Falling on top of you gently, he catches his breath, chest heaving heavily as you slowly unclench your legs and pussy, also catching your breath, enjoying your post orgasm euphoria. Whimpering when he pulls out, your body convulses around air, still not over your high. Blinking your eyes, you close them slowly, feeling tired out due to the mind blowing orgasm you just had.

Feeling a damp cloth on your sore folds, you open you eyes unwillingly, looking at your 'boyfriend' who's cleaning you up. And who has already worn sweats. Going back to the bathroom, he throws the towel in the laundry basket, returning to the room and handing you one of his shirts and clean boxers. Shyly you put on the clothes given to you.

" Oh don't go all shy on my now when you were just screaming my name a few minutes ago. " He says laughing. Blushing you wait till he comes to sit behind you, laptop in one hand.

" Wait what about the party? " You ask, wondering why he's switching on his laptop.

" Eh. It's just another party. And I have you here now. You're all the party I'll ever need. " Pulling you close by your waist, he makes you sit between his legs, covering your legs with his comforter. Throwing a pillow on top of the comforter, he places the laptop on it, playing a newly released movie. Nuzzling into your neck, he pulls you closer and wraps his arms around your frame as you both started your first binge session.

#sf9 #jaeyoon #sf9 smut #sf9 x reader #sf9 x reader smut #sf9 jaeyoon #sf9 jaeyoon smut #lee jaeyoon #lee jaeyoon smut #jaeyoon smut #jaeyoon x reader #jaeyoon x reader smut #sf9 imagines #sf9 fluff #sf9 scenarios #kpop smut #jaeyoon scenario

[were-all-going-to-hell-goodbye]

Okay your reply was amazing and cute, but I got another one. Say Izuku is with his boyfriends and dads (because one Aizawa insisted on coming as he was the chaperone and Mic tagged along) going to the mall and Izuku spots some people from Aldera and boy does his personality change from happy puppy to scared timid pup. Of course the group noticed him and goes up to ask if he took the advice. How does the others react especially Bakugou?

(Like I’ve said before this AU is a bit different, but someone did still tell him to kill himself)

We all know Dadzawa come along because he did not trust a single of those fuckers along with his- “KAMINARI THISE HANDS BETTER STAY ABOVE THE HIP AND YOUR FACE BETTER STAY 30 FEET AWAY!” “W-what?” “YOU HEARD ME!” Mic joined because live Dadzawa content? Yes please.

Anyway, Intro (Even though it’s gonna be solo reactions): Izu’s wanted a date like this since forever, he either got just one on one time, or two or three at a time, but they’ve only done a group outing once and that was before they were dating. It sucks that the girls couldn’t come, but Momo’s parents wanted her home, and Mina had dance practice. But it was nice being out alone with the boys.

Well, almost alone....

“Stop giving me that look.”

Izuku sticks his tongue out and pulls on the underside of his eye.

“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t here!”

Aizawa sighs as Mic snickers about something with Denki in the background.

“I can’t leave you alone with these...!”

“These what?”

“These predators!!!”

(“I believe he’s talking about you, King Explosion Murder.” “OI! FUCK OFF MIND FUCKER”)

“What? You think one of them is gonna strip me in the middle of the mall?!”

“I wouldn’t put it past that one!”

“HA! Take that mind fucker!”

“...That’s fair.”

Izuku threw his hands in the air, knowing he won’t win this fight. That didn’t stop him from grabbing both Shinso’s and Bakugou’s hands as he passes them though.

Ignoring Dadzawa’s sputtering, and his whole existence as whole, Izuku is determined to have the best day ever!

As the day goes on Izuku migrates between his boyfriends, bugging his dad, and napping on Shoji. All in all, it was a wonderful day, and it was going to get even better because they were finally going to the Hero Merch store! Even though Dadzawa told him he was only allowed three things.

Heh, jokes on him, Todoroki once bought him the whole McDonalds franchise because he was craving a big mac at three am, his boyfriends got him covered.

So, with that thought in mind, he swung hand in hand with Denki and Sero, giggling at the little jokes they told him.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the little quirkless slut of Aldera. See you’re still selling your body. Too bad you didn’t take the advice given, or did you actually do it and fail?”

No one’s ever seen Izuku wilt so fast, and he’s never snatched his hands away from them before.

Everyone was too shocked to go after Izuku when he ran off, it wasn’t long after they lost sight of him in the crowd that the assholes in questions started laughing like Izuku’s pain was funny.

These fuckers had another thing coming.

Dadzawa: I wasn’t the one who told you this but he threatened these kids so badly. One kid passed out, the other burst into tears, and the last one pissed his pants. He erased each of their quirks, said if they don’t shape up he’ll find them and make sure they never went anywhere with their lives. And oh, did he mention he was a Pro-hero? Oh, he did? Yeah, well, not only could he get them black listed from every hero school in Japan he could also get them expelled from their current school. He also may have shaken the crying one a few times in his capture weapon.

Mic: That was probably the loudest Mic has ever gotten without using his quirk. He publicly dragged their asses in front of the whole mall, scolding them and very clearly using his influence as a well-known hero to his advantage. He told them the path they were on could very quickly lead to them becoming villains and if he encountered them doing illegal things he would have no mercy.

Bakugou: Surprisingly, he did not throw the first punch, who did? Well that’s a surprise for later, but Bakugou has mad respect. Anyway, after the leader lost a few teeth, Bakugou tore them a new asshole, like this boi was r u t h l e s s and it was funny as hell. He yelled at them for like 30 minutes and he didn’t let them leave after that, after making them piss their pant he forced them to come along to find Izuku and when he did he made them get on their knees and beg for him forgiveness and if Bakugou didn’t like the apology he threatened to “BLAST YOUR ASSES TO HELL!”

Todoroki: This boy, with no hesitation, froze them up their necks, MADE A FIRE BALL IN HIS HAND, AND FUCKING THREATENED TO FREEZE THEIR BABY MAKERS OFF, BURN THEM, AND FORCE FEED THEM TO THEM IF THEY EVER SPOKE, LOOKED, OF THOUGHT OF IZUKU IN ANYWAY, AND HE WOULD KNOW. He then left them there without unfreezing them, but Dadzawa found out and told him to let them out. 

Kirishima: He definably got physical, but he didn’t throw a punch. He just grabbed the one to speak by his shirt and slammed him into a wall before calling him the unmanliest person he ever met and he was attack by a homicidal toddler with hands all over his body. He then states that not only was he attacked twice by villains and won, but he was the key to defeating a villain that was giving Fat Gum a probably so a “disrespectful little shit like you would be no problem”

Denki and Sero: Denki imminently lost his shit, like he was sparking and electricity was popping off his body, (If you can’t tell I simp SO hard for Denki) he went to shock them, but Sero taped his mouth closed and his wrist together to stop him so he wouldn’t “accidently” kill them. Now Sero himself as soon as he was done with that, turned to the three of them and taped them together and to the wall with just enough space underneath their noses to breathe.

Tokoyami and Shoji: Tokoyami isn’t really one to yell, so he just glared darkly at them while pretending he didn’t see Dark Shadow giving them a piece of her mind. He also pretended not to see when she started grabbing them to shake and toss in the air like they were rag dolls. He did however trip the one who tried to one away so Dark Shadow could grab his ankle and drag him away screaming. Since Dark Shadow only had two hands, Shoji made sure to keep the extra one within grabbing distance and if he threatened to show up in the night and destroy everything they love while they sleep, well, Tokoyami didn’t see or hear that either.

Shinso: Oh, this boi, this one of best boi. We love the tired child, yes, we do~. Ahem, anyway. I feel like it best if I directly tell you what was said. “HEY YOU SAD SACKS OF SHIT MUNCHERS!” “What the fu-” “Fuckface, how about you piss yourself and knock yourself out by running into that wall.” “Shitfuck, I don’t know, fucking go up to the nearest girl them scream that you like men and want to date her because she looks close enough.” “And you, wings, how about you strip and streak around the mall, make sure you use those wings so you don’t get caught.”

Iida:  He with no hesitation fucking recipro burst and fucking punched the shit out of the one talking. Like that was a Stain paralyzed my brother level punch. He looked these fuckers in the face and just fucking threatened their l i v e s, he was like “If I can go after Stain and win you best believe I will have no hesitation in doing worst to you.” Then he was going on about how pure and smart and amazing Izuku is and how they didn’t even deserve to speak his name. After saying all that he went to leave, then froze, turned and around and fucking quirk kicked the nearest kid in the balls and the other in the stomach. 

WHOO that was a lot, I wanted to keep them as in character as I could while also putting in a few of my hc for this AU. I hope I did well, and I hope you enjoy this!!!! Have a PLUS ULTRA day!!!

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #iida tenya #iidaxdeku #iidadeku #shinso hitoshi #shindeku #shinso x deku #tokoyami fukimage #tokodeku #tokoyami x deku #shoji mezo #shojixdeku #shojideku #denki kaminari #kaminari x deku #kamideku #sero hanta #seroxdeku #serodeku #kirishima eijirou #kirishima x deku #kirideku comics #todoroki shouto #todoroki x deku #tododeku #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x deku

[hellyeahomeland]

“Fucker Shot Me”: an HYH recap

A day after Haqqani turns himself over to the Americans, the Americans are turning him over to G’ulom. Saul and Haqqani pull up to Ghazi Stadium, where G’ulom has been holding the Taliban fighters.

G’ulom is standing outside, in a cape, like he’s Andre Leon Fucking Talley (to be clear, we stan). Haqqani says he’s ready and Saul gets out of the car to give another speech that G’ulom is definitely not listening to about Justice and Due Process and Integrity. G’ulom fulfills his end of the bargain, releasing the prisoners, who all make a beeline for Haqqani because, well, he’s the Emir! Saul warns G’ulom that if he doesn’t treat Haqqani with respect, “your world will explode.” So that’s coming. 

Saul goes back to Kabul station and Mike and Jenna have something to tell him.

Jenna: Remember how yesterday I had one job, which was to get Carrie on the plane to Germany? Saul: Yeah… Jenna: Well, I fucked that up. Mike: Carrie was photographed at the airport getting in a car with everyone’s favorite Russian hunk. Yevgeny Gromov! Can you believe it? Saul: Yes. I mean, no! How surprising. Mike: They could be halfway to Moscow by now. Saul: First, chill. Second, doubtful. Carrie is all about saving her friend Max. She’s probably somewhere in Pakistan. Mike: This is an outrage. Rules! I must follow them! I’m referring this to the FBI. Saul: Whatever. Send me a text or something when you find her ok byeeeeee

Carrie and Yevgeny are somewhere in Pakistan, it turns out. They’re listening to the radio, which is such a quaint thing for two lovers frenemies to do together. The radio report is about Haqqani turning himself in, and they get to talking about the CIA’s working theory that Carrie is a traitor who told her Russian handler—Yevgeny—about the president’s helicopter so that he could alert Haqqani who could fire an RPG! Phew. That’s a lot. They’re both like “yeah that didn’t happen” but also realize the, like, component of weirdness of the situation since they’re off on this road trip together and look extra double super suspicious now. “Ironic,” Carrie says while gazing out the window.

They pull up to a checkpoint. Yevgeny gets out of the car because he is In Charge. He approaches two guys, who are actually his homies, inquiring about where “the American” (Max) is. They have a line on him.

Carrie and Yevgeny’s next stop is a small Pakistani village. Again Yevgeny gets out of the car and instructs Carrie to stay. But we all know (and he should too by now!) that if you tell Carrie not to do something, she turns into a four-year-old child who instantly must do that thing. Plus her spidey senses are tingling. Maybe she recognizes some of these structures? She hops out of the car and ends up at a gravesite. Rows upon rows of graves with the year “2014” etched across the bottom. Uh oh. A few split-second flashbacks later and… yep, these are the graves of the people she dropped a bomb on in “The Drone Queen.”

Carrie: Quit fucking with me. Yevgeny: Heh? Carrie: Quit 👏 fucking 👏 with 👏 me  Yevgeny: I’m not fucking with you. Carrie: Coolio, so we just happened to end up at the village I decimated four years ago in the event that probably more than any other haunts my waking nights? Yevgeny: What do you think happens after you decimate a village with a bomb, Carrie? We come in, help them rebuild the mosque, and develop contacts. It’s not a coincidence we’re here. But I’m not fucking with you. Carrie: I’m changing the subject now. What did the imam say? Yevgeny: He knows where Max is. Come on.

Saul, resident hottie Scott Ryan, and Not Martha Boyd are gathered around a conference table in Kabul station, talking to Linus and his homies back at the White House. They’re all very concerned that Haqqani’s trial will be a sham, he’ll be put up against a wall and shot, and that will mean more violence and more instability, and certainly not an end to “The Forever War.” Not Martha mentions that the lead judge is a woman she knows from some embassy events and she’s fair and independent so they can probably influence her (umm… what?)! Their meeting is interrupted by Hayes, who’s apparently just wandering the halls of the West Wing searching for something to do. He’s generally displeased this is all taking place behind his back, but no one thinks he can do anything, so it’s understandable. He flatly denies Saul’s request to declassify some intelligence that could prove Haqqani is innocent, asks again for the “action plan” to kill more brown people, and storms out.

Back in Carrie/Yevgeny land, Yevgeny continues to pry about the drone strike. He says again he didn’t put two and two together, then proceeds to ask actual personal questions like, “so is that why you left the CIA?” Carrie explains her mental state in season four, which is not something she’s ever done, but it’s interesting nonetheless. She catches herself at the end again questioning whether he’s being truthful or not, because if he is, she doesn’t know why. Poor Carrie has no concept of a personal relationship that’s not transactional.

They eventually arrive at the house where Max is being kept. Again, Yevgeny does all the talking. Carrie storms in to find Max, sprawled out on a mattress, one arm still handcuffed to the bed frame. Immediately she springs into nurturing, concerned Carrie, which is not a hat she wears often (side note: when will Carrie wear another hat?). Max says he’s fine but the narsty wound they show in close-up confirms otherwise. He explains that he doesn’t have the flight recorder anymore but he didn’t want to make a big deal about it, lest it suggest the flight recorder was not just some random red boxy thing. “You did good,” Carrie assures him.

Unfortunately, their touching moment ends right there because a few trucks full of Taliban soldiers pull up to the house. They uncuff Max and then cart him off. Yevgeny looks on helpless. Carrie tells Max she will find him. Then she goes off on the dude who let them in. Yevgeny has to physically restrain her. He looks in her eyes, tells her he’ll take care of this while Carrie attempts to calm her breathing. Did anyone else get the indication he has definitely done this before? He was too effective for that to be a rookie attempt. Anyhoozles, Yevgeny finally gets the location where they took Max, so it’s off to stop #3.

At Dover Air Force Base, Hayes is asking Linus for his unconditional loyalty, which is always something you want a president to be asking for. He’s really miffed that people are going behind his back but Linus says something like “we gotta be in the information flow, man.” Hayes repeats the phrase back, and you definitely get the indication he’s the type of person who uses words and phrases wrong all the time without realizing. Again, he’s the president! Don’t you feel safe?

Oh, the reason they’re at the base is because Hayes had an empty casket shipped back on Air Force One for a photo op. And surprise, surprise! G’ulom came over too. I’m sure they’ll have tons to talk about.

Elsewhere in Pakistan, Saul is grasping at straws and goes to Bunny’s home. Tasneem is there, because they have no secrets between them. Saul pleads for their help coming up with a way to help Haqqani. If they don’t, there will be another war, right at their border, and that’s not great for America, but they’re 7000 miles away. It’s really not great for Pakistan, because it’ll be right on their doorstep. Bunny is having none of it. The Americans play hot and cold with Pakistan, asking for their help whenever it suits them and in the interim killing their citizens, withholding aid, and generally being massive dicks. Enough already!

Saul sees himself out, but Tasneem surprisingly comes knocking on his car window. She’ll help him. Why? She doesn’t want to watch the world burn. This is a surprise because I thought that was Tasneem’s defining quality.

Carrie and Yevgeny arrive at stop #3, which is a field just above where Max is being kept. Carrie scopes out the house. It’s barely being guarded, but who knows how long that’ll last. She decides to phone a friend, but Saul never answers his damn phone. So she decides to phone a Single White Female.

Jenna: Carrie? What the hell? You made me look like an idiot. Carrie: Made you? Lol ok. Anyway, please listen. Mike: What are you doing, Carrie? Carrie: Oh, great, you again. I found Max. Y’know, that thing you guys were doing anything in your power to accomplish? I did it in like 12 hours. Mike: Who are you with? Carrie: ...Breezing by that question. Anyway, here are the coordinates. Will you call special ops? Max is in critical condition, I don’t know how much longer he can make it.  Mike: Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in? Carrie: Do you have any idea how much I don’t give a fuck? Just call special ops. Bye. [click] Mike: You are now a fugitive, your case is with the FBI, Carrie…? CARRIE?

In the Oval Office, Hayes and G’ulom meet for an “unofficial summit.” Hayes reads a headline on his iPad that declares “The Two Presidents,” which… is certainly a true thing about them. Hayes hems and haws about going back to war with the Taliban, and G’ulom says some manipulative stuff about the US being all-powerful fighters who could totally put them away in two to three weeks. Hayes doesn’t even know he’s being manipulated though and plays right into G’ulom’s hand. He eats this shit up! He loves hearing about American dominance and how he could be the steward of it. If it means murdering even more brown people, that’s just a bonus!

Saul and his new BFF Tasneem arrive at the home of the lead judge for Haqqani’s trial and plead with her that he’s innocent. She asks for literally any evidence and their response is “just trust us, two perfect strangers who barged into your house late at night.” She’s highly skeptical until Tasneem pulls up a news article about the RPG that hit one of the Taliban caravans back in episode two. That was meant for Haqqani, because he wanted peace and the ISI didn’t, and he still agreed to the peace deal. This is apparently enough to sway her, so she agrees to a continuance for one week while Saul and Tasneem figure out what to do.

Carrie is taking a light nap in the back seat of Yevgeny’s truck when he wakes her. Some more cars have arrived at the house where Max is. She peers through the binoculars to see Jalal Haqqani rolling up with his crew. Shit. Jalal enters the room where Max is being held and asks him who shot down the helicopters. “What helicopters?” Max cooly replies. Max 4 President!

Above, Carrie is panicked and phones Mike again. Mike admits that no, special ops isn’t coming. It’s too risky, they haven’t scouted the site, etc. Carrie, totally missing the point, offers to scout the site herself. The issue, of course, isn’t with the site, it’s with Carrie herself. She’s a rogue agent, calling from a Russian sat phone. Who else is even listening in on this call? Carrie says, verbatim, “I don’t underestimate the difficulty.” Whenever Carrie goes searching for euphemisms (“That is a mischaracterization!”) you know she’s in deep shit and that she knows she’s in deep shit. She pleads with Mike that Max is one of ours and we can’t just abandon him. He says they’re doing all they can, which is of course a lie. This must all feel eerily reminiscent of Brody and Tehran for her, a slow-motion car crash she’s powerless to stop.

In need of something, anything, to do, Carrie asks Yevgeny for his gun. She’s going to scout the site herself, at least see if Max is still alive. Yevgeny reluctantly agrees but vows to book it if she gets in trouble, which is also of course a lie.

In Kabul, Saul visits Haqqani in his cell, which is also eerily reminiscent of the cage they kept Brody in in season three. He tells him of the continuance he secured and Haqqani is like, “bro, why are you doing all this?” Saul says it’s because he’s innocent. Haqqani knows the truth though: after forty of years of war, none of them are still innocent.

In the court room, one by one the judges file in. The last and presiding one, however, is not the woman Tasneem and Saul met the night prior. That’s right, G’ulom pulled the ol’ trial judge switcheroo! This new guy is definitely not ordering a continuance. He gives a speech about the pain and suffering Haqqani has inflicted on thousands of people. How he killed both presidents. He sentences him to death. Saul looks on horrified. He calls Linus, who informs him that Hayes has asked for new perspectives on Afghanistan, and John Zabel is in the Oval Office meeting with him as they speak. They are extremely disgusted, so we know John Zabel must suck. Outside the courthouse, crowds have gathered in celebration of the announcement of Haqqani’s inevitable execution.

In the Oval Office, Linus interrupts the meeting between Hayes and John Zab—oh my god, it’s Hugh Dancy! Ok, ok, we all knew it would be Hugh Dancy, but it’s still exciting! He has a terrible haircut, awful facial hair, and gives off general vibes of hot evilness. He makes a few incredibly racist remarks, praises Hayes’ quick action in avenging Beau Bridge’s death, and talks about next steps. Linus comes thisclose to doing a Jim Halpert on The Office impression.

A few Taliban soldiers come into Max’s room and drag him up. He groans and yells. Outside, Carrie, gun in hand, makes her way to the perimeter of the house. They’ve carried Max into the courtyard and are pulling an orange jumpsuit on him. He screams in protest, doing everything he can to resist. Jalal stands in front, camera and tripod at the ready. Carrie watches in horror, beginning to put the pieces together. They pull Max’s glasses off and she pulls her pistol up, ready to shoot.

Suddenly, Yevgeny grabs her from behind, his hand over her mouth, muzzling her cries. He puts her against a wall (why is this so sexual??) and stares into her eyes. “No,” he whipsers. For once, she listens.

#homeland #an hyh recap #fucker shot me #* #by: sara

[snarktheater]

Carve the Mark — Part 1 (Chapters 1-2)

At long last, it's time to get started on Veronica Roth's latest train wreck. Or hey, maybe it'll be good, what do I know.

…Yeah, I can't really feel optimistic about it. I know of the accusations of racism, and Roth's "but I'm not racist!" argument, which fell completely flat. Plus, you know, it's Veronica Roth. It'll be an uphill battle. Yet surprisingly, I find that I don't really know that much about the plot or even the characters of this one going in. This is kind of remarkable, considering how much noise the book made. I even stayed away from details of the racism debate on purpose, just to see if I could find it by myself.

Anyway. The book is divided in four parts, and the first is just two chapters, so we're tackling that in one go. Also, before we even start, I can already tell that I'm gonna be annoyed by one thing: the protagonists. Specifically the fact that we're apparently doing the same thing as in Allegiant, with the chapters being each named after whose PoV we're following this time. It's a strategy that annoys me even in books that I like, and…well, you are no George R. R. Martin. Don't try to be.

Although I have to say, I'm actually surprised to find third person narration. Did not expect that. (Not that third person is inherently superior, it's just my personal preference and, let's be real, Roth didn't really handle shifting first person all that well anyway).

On the plus side, the chapter naming scheme means I'm not left with no name for the protagonist for a while like I was in Divergent, I guess. Then again, this wouldn't be an issue in third person at all, I suppose. Eh, whatever, let's just read this fucker.

Said protagonist is Akos Kereseth, fourteen years old, although they use fourteen "seasons" instead, which at first made me wonder if I had to do math to know how old he is in years. I don't know if it's poor wording on the book's end (say, maybe it was going for something like "fourteen springs" and failed) or if their world really has year-long seasons. ne thing at a time.

Akos lives on a world named Thuvhe, a nation-planet that's part of an Assembly of multiple similar nations who are officially independent, but effectively subjected to the Assembly's rule at least on some levels. Think the European Union, but with planets instead of countries. Except Thuvhe isn't quite a "nation-planet", because…there's a group of people who aren't part of that nation. But I'll get back to them in a moment.

Akos is also the youngest of three children, and has a sister Cisi and a brother Eijeh (the latter being sixteen, the former…I have no clue, but older). Their parents are Aoseh, son of a military family who has turned his back on that life, and Sifa, one of three oracles of their world.

Every planet in the galaxy had three oracles: one rising; one sitting, like their mother; and one falling. Akos didn’t quite understand what it meant, except that the current whispered the future in his mom’s ears, and half the people they came across were in awe of her.

Which brings us to the current, a mystical force of some kind. It connects every living things and gives everyone a unique ability called a currentgift, which reveals itself after puberty. Sometimes they're hereditary, sometimes not, which I'd assume is an excuse so that Roth can basically paint secondary character families in broad strokes while giving main characters unique abilities. Which is…not the worst thing ever, but I don't see the point of mentioning at all that it can be hereditary.

I think Sifa being an oracle is her currentgift, Aoseh can break and mend things, Cisi can calm people down by talking to them. Got all that?

[…] which meant, judging by how small Akos still was at fourteen seasons old, he wouldn’t be getting his for awhile yet. Because he can't just…be short? At fourteen, he should probably be past puberty. Unless the gift comes even later than that, in which case you should try to specify.

Yeah, this opening is chock-full of infodumps, and I'm getting as much of them out before we get started, even if they weren't in the books. Because this is better than having to be repeatedly confused, only to get my answer three pages later.

As oracle, Sifa can see many possible futures, not just one. But there are people whose future is the same in every iteration, who are called "fate-favored". It…mostly feels like just a reason to make the characters special without trying. Because yes, Akos and his entire family are fate-favored, as is the family of the book's other protagonist. Again, more on that in a moment.

Why do I call this special snowflake points? Well…

Eijeh, Cisi, and Akos had fates. Only they didn’t know what they were, even though their mom was one of the people who had Seen them. She always said she didn’t need to tell them; the world would do it for her.

Yeah. Basically, they have a fate, but they can't know about them, which…kind of renders the existence of a prophecy irrelevant. You might as well call them a vague "special" term, like…Divergent, really. Speaking of which, this means I assume their fate-favored status will be developed eventually, but it won't make up for the fact that mom should really tell her kids. Not telling them means they're left unprepared to face what's coming. That's not nice, mom.

Our opening chapter takes us through the "Blooming ritual", which is basically a winter solstice celebration with a flavor of watching a specific species of flower bloom. They're called hushflowers, they're blood red, they're probably symbolically important, but at the moment, they don't do much.

What it does is give the book the opportunity to throw tons of world building at us. And I have to say, coming from the author of the Divergent series, a.k.a. "I did not really think this dystopian system through, did I?"…I'm shocked by how developed this world is, and how efficiently the book paints a picture of it. Thuvhe is a snow world, it has cultural symbolism woven around furnaces that burn stones producing different lights to mirror the current's manifestation in their sky, and the buildings are circular to make these furnaces their literal center. Fashion is, unsurprisingly, subject of a lot of focus, but I'll let it slide because it works with the setting.

It's simple, but elegant world building, and I'll give credit where credit is due.

That said, while I'm talking about the book's style so far, I'll take a moment to say that what it does right in world building, it makes up for by failing at character building. It's all tell, no show. Take Ori, Eijeh's best friend. She's a tomboy archetype, and you know she is because…

She was gangly and clumsy-looking, all knees and elbows and stray hair. Akos had never seen her in a dress before, but she was in one now, made of heavy purple-red fabric and buttoned at the shoulder like a formal military uniform.

Or Eijeh himself, for that matter.

Eijeh quirked his eyebrows. He never got embarrassed about anything, never flushed. Not even when the kids at school teased him for his voice—higher than most boys’—or for being rich, not something that made a person popular here in Hessa. He didn’t snap back, either. Just had a gift for shutting things out and letting them back in only when he wanted to.

I wonder if that's a gift or a currentgift. (But as a side note: it me)

Anyway. The ceremony takes place in a temple, although the Thuvhesits seem to be more "spiritual about the current" than full-on religious. Sifa, as the sitting oracle, is the officiant, and her family, being fate-favored (which is public knowledge because it tends to run in families, although it doesn't always), are semi-outcasts, being viewed with respect but also from a distance by most people.

But Akos wasn’t “nice”; that was just what people said about quiet people.

Yeah, that sort of thing. (Side-note: it me too. I said almost these words verbatim recently)

After the ceremony, the Kereseths return home, and Sifa teaches Akos about the medicinal properties of the iceflowers native to Thuvhe, and also does a lot of ominous foreshadowing, as oracles tend to do in stories. She still remains painfully vague, of course.

“I’m sorry, Akos,” she said, and he wasn’t sure if she was saying sorry for saying too much, or for something else, but it didn’t really matter.

Chapter two takes us to school, because…of course there's a school, complete with a jock named Osno who just discovered his currentgift was self-healing, a girl named Riha who's a stereotypical Mean Girl who only believes what she sees and has romantic tension with Osno, and…I'm just wondering if I should care at all, because I know that we're not staying at school for long. But I'm mentioning them just in case.

What does matter is that ~something~ happens. Power goes out, Akos sees Ori taken out of school by her aunt Badha, who reveals that Ori is also fate-favored, which Akos didn't know.

“All the fate-favored are in danger, understand? You are exposed. You must go.” “What about the Kereseths? Aren’t they in danger, too?” “Not as much as you.”

As for Akos, he and his siblings are summoned by the headmaster to wait in his office until their dad picks them up. He cut the power off on purpose, because the Assembly made an emergency broadcast, and he didn't want the other students to know about the news until the fate-favored kids were out.

Aoseh is the one who explains what happened when he shows up, because the headmaster won't do it: the oracles (I'm not sure if he means all oracles or just the ones form Thuvhe) told the Assembly about every fate they've seen (as in, the ones that fate-favored peoples have), and the Assembly made them all public because…reasons. I mean, I assume there's a reason, but no one asks about it, so I guess we'll have to wait.

Eijeh is the one to ask the other important question in this circumstance: what their fates are. But no, Aoseh still won't tell his children. He does tell them that Sifa has gone missing, but she's probably fine, because as an oracle, she'll have known about this. Except…if she did, why didn't she warn her family? She's just a waste of prophetic powers.

They take a floater (which is…basically an airship of some kind, I'm not sure what exactly because they're not described in a lot of detail) back home, and…random infodump occurs. See, their home is on the outskirts of the city of Hessa, and there's "feathergrass" outside their home, which causes hallucinations in people who come nearby.

They heard whispers, or they saw dark shapes among the stems; they waded through the snow, away from the path, and were swallowed by the earth. Every so often they heard stories about it, or someone spotted a full skeleton from their floater.

Point is, Akos is used to resisting them, but he notices that there are no visions right now. Is this relevant? I don't know, but I imagine the book brought it up for some reason.

It definitely doesn't influence the rest of the chapter, where three soldiers are waiting home. And…this is where things get thorny.

I mentioned that not all people on Thuvhe where Thuvhesits or part of the nation-planet. Well, these are those people: the Shotet. And the way they're described…

The Shotet were a people, not a nation-planet, and they were known to be fierce, brutal.

Yeah, they're nomadic people, without a nation of their own, and they're viewed as "barbarian" invaders, and overall inferior (Aoseh uses the cliché "not worth the dirt on my fingers" or something to that effect) by the Thuvhesits. And…there are immediately a few parallels there, but in their first mention in chapter 1, they felt a little…Jewish and/or Rroma-inspired. Hell, Shotet even sounds like a Semitic triliteral root.

It's probably a little early to call racism, but it's not the best start to introducing these people, especially doing so through the bias of characters who definitely are racist towards them.

Anyway, what you need to know about the Shotet is that they're currently ruled by the Noavek, a family whose latest generation (a son Ryzek and daughter Cyra) are fate-favored, which…somehow helped their dad become the ruler of the Shotet. Also, he's a pretty awful guy…according to Sifa.

“Their father, Lazmet, child of a woman who murdered her own brothers and sisters. The violence infects each generation.”

Cyra, by the way, is the book's other protagonist. I know because her name is the title of half of the book's chapters, so I don't think it counts as a spoiler.

Anyway, I'm done with the infodump. Right now, we have three soldiers, one of them being Vas Kuzar, who's infamous for something, since Aoseh knows him by reputation. And during the ensuing confrontation, Akos realizes that he understands and speaks the Shotet language.

[Akos] heard the words coming out of his mouth, with their sure meaning, and he also heard harsh syllables, with sudden stops and closed vowels. He heard Shotet, a language he had never learned. So unlike graceful Thuvhesit, which was like wind catching snowflakes in its updraft. He was speaking Shotet. He sounded just like the soldiers. But how—how could he speak a language he had never learned?

I mean…you live in a world where everyone has a power, and you haven't found yours yet, it's pretty obvious—

Well, nope. Vas assumes this means Akos is part Shotet, either through Sifa having an affair or Sifa being part-Shotet herself (because Aoseh can't possibly be part-Shotet?). Because…knowing a language is genetic? I don't understand.

Speaking of gifts, you'd think that Aoseh's ability to break stuff or Cisi's ability to calm people could be useful here, but…nope. They do jack shit. Which I can't even chalk up to being paralyzed by fear, since they're all acting pretty defiant, just…not using their powers in the process.

The soldiers are here for Sifa's youngest and second-born children, i.e. Akos and Eijeh. They can easily guess Akos is the youngest because she's super short, but they try to make Aoseh tell them who out of Eijeh and Cisi they need too. And I'm left wondering…why can't they just take all three?

Well, it doesn't matter. Aoseh struggles and even stabs Vas, but he's immune to pain…as well as bleeding, I guess?

Blood poured from the wound, soaking Vas’s dark trousers. “You know my name, but you don’t know my gift?”

Like…I'm pretty sure blood loss kills you even if you don't feel it happening, and blood is described as "pouring", so that's probably an issue. Just saying.

Aoseh tells Eijeh to run away, which gives away that he's the second-born, so Vas just kills him, and takes the boy with him. I'm…actually not sure if he does anything to Cisi at all. It kind of sounds like he leaves her there to cry over her dad's corpse. Because feminism means the one girl in the scene is so irrelevant that she's not even worth killing to make sure she doesn't come after you in revenge. Or something.

And that's the end of part one. Plot-wise, the book is…kind of bland so far. But honestly, so far, I'm just worried about what it'll do with the Shotet. Even if I didn't know about the racism controversy, I think I'd still be worried after just one chapter. But I guess we'll see how it progresses.

#carve the mark #veronica roth #book reviews #ya books #young adult #books #young adult books #ya #reviews #book #book review #review #st: carve the mark

[warlockextraordinaire]

Character Questionnaire

Full name

Caleas Mirlyth

Preferred name/nickname

Cal

Generally referred to as

Caleas

Appearance.

FACECLAIM: n/a SEX: male HEIGHT: 5′11 WEIGHT: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ light? BUILD: Thin as fuck, this dude is a toothpick HAIR: Long black hair, generally pushed to the side and well kept SKIN: pretty pale, not a lot of blemishes EYES:  fel green NOSE: sharp nose features, as well as the rest of his face SCARS: nah CLOTHES: typically wearing robes, fancy or not.

Speech.

ACCENT: thalassian, whatever that is VERBAL TICKS: n/a ARTICULATION: he articulates things, and sometimes too dramatically EDUCATION: MAGE SCHOOL EDUCATION BUT HE AIN’T A MAGE NO MORE LAUGHTER: Caleas laughs lightly usually, though when he truly does laugh, he gets embarrassed and probably snorts

Mannerisms.

FACE: he shows disgust and judgement a loooot, especially judgement. one judgey bitch HANDS: he gestures from time to time, usually when he’s frustrated or very into the convo POSTURE: typically proper PERSONAL SPACE: he favors his own personal space but won’t like, die if someones invading it

Health:

SLEEP: he doesn’t get enough sleep thanks to dumb nightmares and general insomnia but he does his best to not have bags like a certain warlock (lorisia) ODOUR: incense always lingers, plus a slight hint of sulfur NARCOTICS: socially ADDICTIONS: fel i guess, the power fel rewards is encouraging but he’s well aware that it can be negatively effecting him INJURIES: not typically

Personal.

INTROVERT/EXTROVERT?: extroverted tho he gets exhausted OPTIMIST/PESSIMIST: in between, but he’s usually pessimistic SEXUALITY: whatever happens, happens! ROMANTIC: he’s more for receiving romance than giving romance MEMORY: he’s p good about remembering things, even the things that don’t matter or are long gone to being important GOALS: be like, actually important. caleas is very personally driven and knows that he’s not a great Grand Warlock or anything, but still considers himself important for whatever reason, which becomes more of a cocky vain thing than anything. having respect and being successful are longterm definite goals INSECURITIES: he’s actually pretty insecure despite whatever facade he might put on to say otherwise - he probably won’t talk about it unless he reaaally trusts / knows the person, and with that he’s very dramatic and whiney ACHIEVEMENTS: uhh warlockery ANXIETY: yes, he’s an anxious person. nothing really in particular other than maybe anticipating what people think about him (which is probably negative) and mapping out social situations in his head that never happen SELF-HELP: himself! friends! (lorisia) COMFORTS: solitude or ignoring it BAD HABITS: not sleeping, sometimes smoking/drugs while stressed, anticipating what people think / say, hiding things from others, being vain

The Past.

PARENTS/GUARDIANS: no bueno - have not been in contact with his parents since he was essentially kicked from the family for picking up the fel. he’s in contact with Vemril, his older sibling, but caleas often regrets interacting SCHOOL: not a whole lot. paladin school? ADOLESCENCE: [How did puberty go? Was it a hard change? What was particularly hard (or easy) about it?] LEAVING HOME: [What was it like for them leaving home for the first time? What prompted them to move out of the home they grew up in?] FURTHER EDUCATION: [Did they go to college? University? What did they study, and how well did they do?] FIRST JOB: [What was their first job? Did they enjoy it?] LIFE EVENTS: leaving home and becoming independent pretty much immediately was a jump but he became self-sufficient pretty fast which helped a lot. parents are still a rough subject as well as any functional family, but nothing is too jarringly traumatic WORST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: not happened BEST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: [What happened?] LESSONS: [What are the most important things they have learned through experience?] LOOKING BACK: maybe he shouldn’t have done the fel? nahh the fel is cool. right? right.......?

Relationships.

FAMILY: Vemril + select friends. As previously stated, Caleas generally regrets interacting with Vemril because they’re typically not serious and when they are, he doesn’t find himself enjoying their presence as much as he did when they were kids. FRIENDSHIPS: ya, he’s social. perhaps not as much close friends as he would want, but there are plenty of ye olde friends FRIENDS IN NEED: caleas becomes a distant fucker when people are in need of help / soothing. not because he doesn’t care, but because he probably doesn’t know what to do and ends up aloof NEEDING A FRIEND: he tries to deal with things on his own but that usually doesn’t work out. asking for help wounds him, but he’ll do it when the time comes ANNOYANCES: voices it ROMANCE: single and ready to mingle MARITAL PROBLEMS: [How do they deal with problems in their love life? Do they talk it through with their partner? Or do they bury their head in the sand?] ADVERSARIES: [What would turn them off a friendship or romance?] ENEMIES: enemies generally come from show of cowardice, lying, mockery, and honestly any bad intent shown towards him STRANGERS: if the strangers lookin to chat he’ll chat. FUN STUFF: reading (nerd), learning new spells (nerd), getting new grimoires (nerd), fancy parties, acting like he’s important DATING: [What kind of things to they like doing with a romantic partner?] BEST FRIEND: [If applicable - who do they consider their best friend?] LOVE: na, he had a steady boyfriend once ago but their personalities got the best of them and it didn’t work out WORST ENEMY: HIMSELF WHOA EDGY RESPECT: [Do they respect their enemies, even if they don’t like them? Is there anyone they disrespect? Why?]

Interactions.

MINGLING: hell ya get him in there put caleas in coach COMFORT LEVELS: he’ll try to comfort ppl and fail probably and then need comforting himself PHYSICAL: as caleas loves receiving attention, if touch is in the name of attention he’ll accept it. if people are just willy-nilly touching his hair? hell nah that took time to get ready in the morning to look that good bro. but in relationships / etc, he’s a real sucker for touch ,’:) GROUPS: he’s not really apart of any group OPENNESS: USUALLY closed, but is open to being open GENEROSITY: ehh... not too much. his vanity and drive for personal success usually overrides generosity. JEALOUSY: o hell yeah he can get real jealous, especially for being a sucker for attention. TEMPER: yeah, his temper can get bad but it’s not particularly explosive or groundbreaking. he can just get petty and heated. EMPATHY: a bit, yeah? not the most empathetic but not the worst either. AFFECTION: hell yeah ETIQUETTE: caleas follows sin’dorei traditions / etiquette fairly closely and berates Vemril for being a shit trash lord RESPONSIBILITY: he’s pretty childish when it comes to owning up to things - it’ll take a good long self realization for him to be like ohhh yeah I was wrong haha whoops. SELF ESTEEM: not the highest, once again despite facade CONFIDENCE: higher than self-esteem and definitely comes across as a confident person HONESTY: from the amount of judging he does passively and internally, Caleas’ honesty is surprisingly low from the amount of things he’ll tell people in what he’s truly thinking, typically on a smaller scale of gossip and petty things LEADER OR FOLLOWER: leader for sure PARTY TRICKS: behold! i’m not a warlock! what’s that? you can feel the fel around me? ha ha! nope! (he doesn’t really have any) PRAISE: fuck yeah give that attention yyyyyeaaaaahh CRITICISM: he does not take criticism well - it becomes personal fast and that’s not too great, and he knows he should chill from time to time INSULTS: if someone insults him, Caleas will probably insult back or figure out why they insulted and their motive EMBARRASSMENT: ya, he can get embarrassed in select scenarios but tries his best to play it cool. embarrassment probably mostly comes from romantic scenarios, or blatantly failing at something publicly  FLIRTING: it’s probably pretty apparent when done so, perhaps a bit subtle at start to see if he’s getting any bites ATTENTION SPAN: pretty good, especially since he reads a lot and practices magic

Life.

CAREER: [Do they have a career? Are they good at it and do they like it?] PROMOTION: [Are they hoping to advance their career?] BOSS: [Do they have a good relationship with their boss?] DUTY: [What kind of responsibilities do they have?] TECH: [Are they good with modern technology or do they prefer not to tough a computer?] POLITICS: sin’dorei snooty elf politics are seen as fun and a game and not all that important COMBAT SKILLS: thru magic, not physical. he’ll melt physically HOME: messy, tomes everywhere. ‘organized’ he says, to only him DAILY LIFE: depends! INDEPENDENCE: definitely COOKING: he’s... okay. not the best, not the worst, can definitely get some tips from someone. loves 2 be made food. BUILDING: [Can they put together an item of furniture or do basic DIY?] CLEANING: hygiene is 10/10 good  SHOPPING: [Do they like to shop? Or do they prefer to only go to the store when absolutely necessary? Are they prone to impulsive buying or do they shop sensibly?] DRIVING: [Can they drive, or operate any vehicle?]

FINANCES: [Are they in a good position financially? Are they good at taking care of their bank account? Do they usually pay their bills on time?] MARRIAGE:  KIDS:  PETS: DEPENDANTS: [Do they have anyone to look after, such as an elderly relative or a sick friend?] LAW: fuck the police COURT: [Have they ever been in court? Why? And what was the verdict?] PRISON: [Have they ever been in prison?] TRAVELLING: [Have they ever been on holiday, or would they like to?] MEDICAL: [Do they go to the doctor/dentist when they need to? Or are they afraid of going to see the doctor?] ILLNESS: [Do they have any mental illnesses that affect the way they live their life?] WORRIES: PEACE: [Do they like peace and quiet? Or do they prefer always to listen to the radio or playing their favourite songs?] PARTYING: social boyo HOBBIES: reading cos he’s a neeeeerd who loves to learn like a nEEEEEERD

#Wyrmrest Accord #actually caleas #long ass prompt