#i had so much fucking fun writing this

[buttdumplin]

I’m still on the latine reader train and fucking of course I had to do one of their baby’s ears getting pierced. The boys all react a little differently, but boy, are they amazing fathers.

CW: poly 141, gn!reader, latine reader, piercing mentioned but not described, baby is nicknamed Bug

It’s not something you’d spend a lot of time thinking about, getting your baby girl’s ear pierced. Hell, it wasn’t something you had a hard opinion on even before she came into your lives. But one day, something stirs in you. She’s around 5mos old, trying her hardest to roll over in the center of a nest of pillows her fathers have piled up around her, when you make the call. And while your partners are all understanding and loving, Kyle is the one you approach.

You plop down on the couch next to him, pulling his arms around you to make him hold you. Testing the waters, you spread small, quick kisses on his cheek. It’s a clear gauge of his current mood, and it has him squinting down at you. Not judging, more curious. He knows you’re about to drop something. 

“I’m thinking about getting Bug little golden studs.”

“That would make a lovely heirloom for when she gets older, something she can keep on her.”

“No, I mean la voy a llevar down to the piercer this week.”

His arms stiffen around you, and his lack of immediate response makes you turn to look at him. Kyle’s eyes are locked on the baby, his face perfectly neutral in a way you know he’s mastered for his job, like this was also somehow a threat to national security, to life as he knew it to be.

 “Vida mía… are you sure?” concern finally creeping in to scrunch his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I’m worried arracadas would snag on something as she’s learning to move more.”

It’s his turn to look at you, and all Kyle finds on your face is the stillness of peace that comes with having made a decision. 

“We’ll wait to tell the others,” he knows better than to ask and it has you throwing a big, beaming smile his way. All he can do at this point is return your kisses and ask you to share a link to the shop you want to take your baby girl to. 

You got to bed excited that night, thrilled by Kyle’s support. He, on the other hand, stays up late hidden in the bathroom, digging up as much info as he can on the shop to make sure it’s a reputable place. He’s reading every single review folks have left on both the individual piercers and the place itself, and he’s pinching in on every picture to zoom in and look for even the smallest sign of something wrong. A single picture of misaligned piercings would be all that it takes from him to call it all off. But he finds nothing. No skeezy people in the shop, no questionable client pictures, and the shop even has their health and safety certifications on proud display. Well, at least it seems like you chose a good shop.

The next day, Kyle is driving you down to the shop, hands tight on the steering wheel. He wants to be there. He has to be there. Pleased with all his digging and research on the shop, he holds Bug and coos down at her as you run through the details with the piercer. He’s straining his ears like never before, just to try to catch the piercer saying a single thing that sounds off so he can haul you both out of the shop and back home. But again, everything checks out. 

His voice is low and rough as he says, “I’d like to hold her as you do it, if that’s alright.”

You know he’s just trying to look out for Bug, trying to maintain some type of control in this terrifying moment, so you just kiss his shoulder and nod at him. Kyle doesn’t say much else. He sits still with his little girl in his arms, eyes wider than usual, taking in every detail he can.

Are the needles and jewelry sterile? The piercer’s pen marks look even on her little ears. Are the piercer’s hands shaking? This close to her little face?

It all happens quickly and nearly painlessly. You’re pretty sure Bug only cried out from how tense Kyle’s arms got as the needle came closer, scared just from sensing his fear. As the piercer finishes cleaning off your little girl’s ears, you hear Kyle release what must have been a held breath. The strain around his eyes immediately warns you of the blistering headache he just gave himself. 

You take his hand gently, “All done.”

He nods shakily and presses a kiss to the top of Bug’s head.

He’s never been so proud of his baby girl before. She faced off with something sharp and pain, and she barely batted an eye. Even after, it was almost like nothing had happened. Bug went back to babbling away in an attempt to talk to the piercer, who was kind enough to carry on a short conversation with her. It makes his heart swell with an unbelievable amount of hope. She’ll be able to face the entire world itself by the time she’s grown.

Kyle spends the drive back home in the backseat, looking for any signs of discomfort as your little girl sleeps, her little hand locked around his finger, his smile completely stuck on his face.

~

Simon is the only one home when you get back. He sits in the living room, putzing around with all of Bug’s toys and rugs, clearly waiting for you to get home and preparing for some play time. There aren’t any Baby and Me classes that day, at least as far as he knows. So it must have been something else that pulled you from the house.

He greets both you and Kyle with a soft kiss and a little hum, then reaches for the carseat, “How’s our sweet girl?”

Her gurgles answer him, and she gives him a big gummy smile as he pulls her from the seat. You and Kyle slowly move to put the key and car seat and jackets away, keeping a careful eye on Simon. He lays his baby girl down in his lap, helping bicycle her little legs with big, tender hands. And everything seems fine. Simon is clearly happy to be spending time with Bug again, and you and Kyle both let out a not-so-subtle sigh of relief. The sound of it, unfortunately, is bigger than it should in the room, taking up all the space left open by Simon’s absolute silence. Your eyes go wide and meet Kyle’s, his own reflecting the slight worry in yours, and you both sit on either side of Simon.

“Cariño, are you alright?” you plant a kiss on his cheek, Kyle’s arm finds its way around Simon’s back.

Now that you’re next to him, you can see the little quiver of his lower lip and the tears gathering on blonde lashes, eyes locked in on the little golden studs. His stuttered breathing is the only thing to break the silence.

“She’s so little,” he chokes out, “It must have hurt her so bad.” His tears finally fall as his fingers hover near the baby’s ears. 

Kyle presses himself against Simon’s side, “Oh, sweetheart. She’s alright, just look at how happy she is to be with you now.”

“Le dolió más a Kyle than it did her, and he just held her through the whole thing.”

Simon immediately remembers all the times he’s held his baby girl as she’s gotten her shots, how she’s squirmed and cried til she was purple in the face, and he takes another stuttering breath, “What if it makes her scared of jewelry, what if she comes to associate it all with pain?”

You can’t help but smile a little at the stark differences of the picture before you. Simon’s big frame hunches over the baby and his large, scarred hands gently hold her, his face growing ruddy as more tears fall and he starts to sniffle. Meanwhile Bug is wiggling away happily as she lays against the warmth of his thighs, little fists swinging around, feet kicking excitedly at the sound of Simon’s voice. 

“I think she’ll be glad she won’t have to heal those piercings as an adult,” you say, carefully wiping his tears away. 

Simon chuckles at your comment, taking a tissue from Kyle to clean up his nose, “Yeah, I suppose it is easier now since she’s still sleeping on her back.”

“Plus think of all the jewelry we’ll get to buy her as she grows, toda chipleada.”

Simon gives a full laugh at that, his hands returning to bicycling Bug’s legs. His chest moves with the deep breaths he finally allows himself, his little girl’s infectious smile catching on his face too. What a beautiful, softhearted man he is. He turns to give you each a kiss on the forehead as you and Kyle lean against him, “I’ll have to start tucking away some more money for that then.”

By the time he’s bringing Bug down to the ground to get her moving and playing with her toys, his tears have stopped. A few sniffles pop up every now and then, but he’s smiling, his big, brown eyes warm with love as he plays with her. Simon slowly moves to lay down next to her, mimicking her as she lays on her tummy, his head resting against his folded arms. His eyes flick to her ears every now and then, as if he’s trying to keep an eye out for a potential reaction. But the more pressing matter turns out to be how hard her little hands grab at his face, pulling at his lip until he’s giggling too. He doesn’t flinch a single time. He never will, not with his loved ones. They’re the people he trusts with his entire being. 

~

Johnny’s the next one to come home, arriving just a couple of hours later. He comes in the door to find you’re all working on setting up lunch: Kyle is on table duty and sets out drinks, you’re finishing up shoving doritos into the sandwiches, and Simon is still in the living room with baby Bug. Johnny smiles so big his face hurts a little. There are few things he loves as much as just seeing his little family. He could have the single worst day at work, but coming home to yall? That fixes his entire world. 

He stands by the door, where he can see all of you, and throws his arms out, “My loves, my dearest ones, I am home.” 

You all turn to smile at him. Normally, you’d all come up to greet him with a kiss. It’s a cute little ritual he’s come to love. But you’re all understandably occupied, so it’s his turn to make rounds. He steps to you and Kyle in the kitchen first, pulling you both into his arms so he can place light, lingering kisses to your mouths.

“Feeling your lips against mine once again has righted the world,” his big declarations of love will never truly end, but yall well know just how ecstatic he is to be home again. He’s quick to steal a couple of chips from you, shoving them into his mouth before you can reprimand him. Kyle receives a quick swat to his bum and he chases after Johnny a couple of steps, mirth lighting both their faces.

Johnny jogs over to join Simon on the floor, giving him a careful kiss as well.

“Our sweet Bug, trying so hard to roll. What a perfect little-”

And you know he’s clocked it. The sunshine gleaming off her little studs catches his eye.

“What’s this?” he rises back to his feet, eyes darting to each of your faces.

 Simon is the first to try to address his concern, “She’s alright, love. Watch, she’s moving about like nothing happened.”

“No. No. She’s too small to be dealing with this,” Johnny’s pacing the room, hand in his hair as his eyes continue to bounce between your faces. He keeps looking down at his baby girl, the little gold in her ears still shining, her happy little babbling only stopping as she tries to pull Simon’s finger into her mouth. And still, Johnny paces. 

 “It’s perfectly safe for her age, and the shop was of the highest quality,” Kyle says, stepping into the living room as Johnny continues to wear a track into the carpet. The technical reassurance has him pausing for a moment, the hand clenched in his hair relaxing a fraction. 

“But why?” Johnny’s voice climbs a little higher. He’ll never shout at any of you, but the emotion has to come out somehow. “She’s so young. This could have waited.”

More and more questions and rationalizations sprout from his mouth as his pacing picks back up. He brings up his sisters, he brings up his ma. None of them got piercings until they were much older. Then they could pick what they wanted and where. He briefly mentions consent, worried that this means he’s also overstepped as a father. And at one point he just says the word “baptism” and lets out a long groan. Still, he paces. His eyes turn electric with the sheer need to understand. He’s spiraling.

“Johnny, it’s cultural,” you cut through his rambling. It stops him in his tracks. 

“Cultural?”

You give him a nod, and his shoulders ease down from their tense clench. 

“Well, why didn’t you say so? We’ll have so many cute options for her once they heal,” he says with a smile once again adorning his face, plopping down to join Simon and Bug. “Is there a sandwich for me too, or should I make my own?”

 You let out a breathless laugh, the boys look up at you from the floor, smiles toothy and proud.

Kyle covers his face with his hands for a moment, mumbling something to himself before going back into the kitchen, “Yeah, we already have one for you, you brat.”

~

When Price arrives home, he lingers by the door for just a moment, taking in all the sounds of his family chattering and giggling away. He’ll never say it out loud, at least not unless he’s directly asked, but the sound alone of all of you happy and healthy and safe rejuvenates him, adds another 5 years to his life every time. He smiles a little to himself as he puts his shoes into the rack, mindful of where he stores his pack too. You’ve been kind enough to help figure out a system to keep all their shit straight and easily accessible for coming and going, and he tries to reinforce it so much with the other boys that he’s not about to fuck it up.

He’s still smiling as he joins the rest of you in the living room. Price is expecting the usual big smiles and lunging for hugs, but instead, he’s met with all of you trying to talk over each other. Kyle’s on the floor with Simon, both with a hand to help Bug sit up, and you and Johnny are shoving and trying to push the other behind. He can make out Johnny saying the word “cultural” over and over again, but the rest is jumbling together. 

Price raises a single hand, immediately silencing the room, “You can all explain what exactly is going on, one at a time, but first I will make my rounds.” 

He makes his way around the room, carefully bending for a kiss from each of you. Truly, of all the rules yall have put in place, this is one of Price’s favorites, the greeting smooches for everyone when they come in the door. It gives yall a chance to reconnect, and it really helps him settle back into the peace of his role as a father and partner. He gets to focus on his family in these moments, and he wouldn’t trade that for the fucking world.

As he picks Bug up to give her her own little smooch, the commotion starts again, making him raise his hand once more. He looks over his sweet little girl, taking in her excited little noises and smiling in return.

“Gold looks beautiful on you, Bug,” he murmurs as he gives her another smooch, enjoying the little squealing his facial hair causes. 

You let out a little whoop and the rest of the boys give a joyous little cheer as well, immediately launching into how they can use this new development to best spoil their precious Bug. And that’s all there is to it. At least in that moment.

Later on, as you’re all getting ready for bed, you notice Price is still in the nursery. He’s messing with the baby monitor, turning it on and off a couple of times to check the battery, bringing it in as close to the crib as he can. All he needs to do is tap on it to check the mic to complete a full system check. And just as you’re about to call him to bed, he does just that. He turns at the sound of your chuckle, his face so pink you know it’s spread all the way down his neck.

“You bought the top-of-the-line monitor, remember, corazon? Todo ese dinero on fancy walkie-talkies,” you press the words against his chest as he holds you close.

“Can never be too sure.”

A couple of hours later, you’re trying to untangle yourself from the too-warm cuddle puddle and all the entangled legs when you notice Price is no longer in bed. But you hear it before you get too far in your search for him, his gravelly voice humming a song through the baby monitor. 

You walk into the nursery to spot him on the big rocking chair, his legs up and reclined as possible, Bug sleeping against his bare chest. 

“She’s wounded,” he croaks as you run your fingers through his hair, “she needs her daddy to heal.” 

You don’t bring attention to the way his voice is choked up with tears, “Claro que sí, papi.”

“You were her age when you got yours?”

“I was younger.”

“And it didn’t hurt?”

“Never.”

He goes quiet, relishing the feeling of her little back rising and falling under his hand as she breathes.

“Can we take her to the guest room? Sleep with her? At least for tonight?” his nervousness seeps into his voice as he asks.

You grab the baby monitor with you as you walk him towards the guest room, just so the boys don’t panic when they wake up. Thank god yall regularly maintain the guest rooms, it makes settling the pillows and bedding much easier this late at night.

Price shakes his head when you motion towards the center of the bed for him to lay Bug down. Instead, he climbs in alongside you, keeping a sleeping Bug on his chest.

“Just for tonight,” he whispers, “Just for tonight.”

In the morning, Kyle’s voice wakes you, “I don’t know how Bug does it. She sleeps better through his snoring than any of us.”

AN: Once again, HUGE fucking shoutout to @mikichko for encouraging this and also giving us Price's precious line of "she's wounded, she needs her daddy to heal." I can't thank you enough, Kiko.

#I CANNOT THANK YOU ENOUGH KIKO #i had so much fucking fun writing this #there's something in these that just heal my soul #i know some of yall are really connecting with latine reader so i hope this continues to hit well #i'll see if any other ones come to mind #eyeball emoji #poly 141 #poly 141 x reader #poly 141 x latine reader #cod x reader #cod #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mctavish #captain john price #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #price x reader #again #i cannot emphasize enough how poly this is #all the boys kiss obviously #tf 141 as dads

[groundcontrol21]

Sicktember #13

Prompt #13: Seasonal/Pet Allergies

Fandom: The Three Musketeers (bookverse, I even tried to emulate the writing style, sorry Dumas)

Title: In Which The Character (and Handkerchief) of D’Artagnan is Put to the Test

Summary: Firmly inspired by this post by @sickromancer: “No, you can’t fight a duel with a hay-fever like that.” But when the duelist in question is D’Artagnan, he’ll find a way through all the sneezing. 

Notes: In the book (and in the BBC show), dueling is banned, but that’s no fun, so here it’s all fully legal (but still ill-advised). Although, a little illegality never stopped anybody 🤷

On account of it being a beautiful April day, the sun shining brightly and no tasks set before them with which to fill it, the three Inseparables decided to spend the warm morning lazing about in the leafy courtyard behind the Hôtel de Treville. Knowing that D’Artagnan had been invited to take breakfast with the captain and the other newly commissioned Musketeers, they expected his presence later, and were thus surprised to find him already perched at one of the courtyard’s tables, polishing his hand weapons with such vigor as though they had done him personal offense. 

When D’Artagnan did not so much as acknowledge their loud salutations as they approached his table, nor grant their arrival at it with any more than a red-eyed glare, Aramis observed, “It seems our Gascon is in a worse mood than usual!”

In reply, D’Artagnan gave a sneeze so loud and forceful he was forced to grasp his cup to keep it from toppling off the table. “Heh’EESHHHH!” He grumbled and produced a handkerchief from his sleeve, wiping at his nose with the hasty conviction of a man who had already been wronged one too many times by the bothersome appendage. 

“And a bit ill as well,” Athos observed, for his part.

“I’m not ill,” D’Artagnan growled. His friends raised their eyebrows at him; surely he could hear how his own voice was pitched about an octave below its usual? He growled again at their expressions, then growled a third time when his nose demanded he sniffle. “It’s the damnable flowers with which the architects of Paris have seen fit to line every bed and fashionable avenue.” He gestured to the pots of lilacs that hung in the windowsills of the courtyard. “I’d like to wring every last one of their necks!”

“Come, such violence to a flower?” Aramis said, laughing. “Well, gentlemen, let it not be said that our noble Gascon has no Achilles heel.” 

Porthos laughed, too. “If, God-forbidding, there ever comes a time when we fall out of favor and the occasion rises for a duel between us, I shall remember to schedule it in a botanist’s hovel.”

There was, however, no humor in D’Artagnan’s occluded voice. “Would you care for that duel to come today, Porthos?”

“Come, D’Artagnan,” Athos said, “what has sharpened your temper so?”

D’Artagnan ignored the older man’s inquiry, training his teary eyes on Porthos with a rabid intensity. “Perhaps you would like to schedule it for two o’clock at the Jardins des Tuileries so that I may do away with you there the way I will do away with Menard of the Red Guard just the hour before.”

Athos nodded significantly. “Ah! It is the heat of anticipation that makes his blood boil so fiercely.”

D’Artagnan turned once more to his handkerchief. “EHKSHHH! HESHHH! Ehh’ehhh’hehhhKSSHHHH!”

Aramis bit his lip. “And what has Monsieur Menard done to provoke such a challenge?” 

“Now, Aramis,” Athos said diplomatically. “I am sure the young man’s ire is justified.”

“I lay no accusation of the contrary,” Aramis said, raising his hands, palms up, in a gesture of surrender. “It is merely that I wish for our D’Artagnan to keep in mind my warnings against senseless escalations.”

Porthos scoffed. “Fie! Your warnings. Too much time with your prayer books, Master Abbé, makes you forget. A man cannot let any insult against his person stand, no matter how slight!”

Athos turned to the Gascon, who was again wiping his nose on his handkerchief. “Tell us, D’Artagnan, what caused you to issue the challenge.”

D’Artagnan told them the story of how Menard had found him taking his breakfast on a bench outside the Hôtel de Treville and how he had asked D’Artagnan why he was not dining inside with the rest of his company. At first, D’Artagnan had rebuffed the man’s inquiry, stating that if the Red Guard minded the law half as much as they minded another man’s private business, France would be all the safer indeed. But then he had sneezed thrice, awfully, and Menard wondered aloud whether the Musketeer hadn’t been kicked out on account of plague, and so D’Artagnan felt forced to impose upon the Guard that he was indeed healthy, and the true cause for his suffering and his solitude were the lilacs that the had lined the serving tables at breakfast. He had then sneezed a good four times more, and Menard insulted the quality of the expulsions. D’Artagnan in turn insulted the presumed quality of some of Menard’s other bodily expulsions, and the two men agreed to settle their insults with a duel. D’Artagnan relayed this story with all the gravity and attention it deserved, and so was immensely incensed when Aramis and Porthos commenced to laugh so hard they clutched their sides. Even Athos was smiling broadly. Aramis at least had the good grace to look a tad contrite when he glimpsed D’Artagnan’s iron scowl.

“Apologies, dear friend,” Aramis said, wiping tears from his eyes. “But surely you can see the humor in this situation?”

“No,” D’Artagnan growled, his words bouncing dully off swollen sinuses. “I certainly cannot.”

Porthos snorted again, but was silenced by the unmistakable crack of a foot striking his shin beneath the table. 

Athos regarded the Gascon seriously. “Who chose the location? ”

“Menard.”

Aramis clucked his tongue in reply. “Have you been to the Jardins des Tuileries yet this season?”

D’Artagnan shook his heavy head. 

“I have been with a–” Aramis colored almost imperceptibly, but continued, “--a friend.” At this, both Athos and Porthos swallowed down choked noises in their throats. “The gardens are absolutely filled with lilacs. Menard must have known this.”

Athos nodded. “It is the only reason he would have chosen such a location, out of the way for you both. It is on the outskirts of Paris. Would not the square behind the Louvre serve you just as well?”

D’Artagnan slammed his blade and towel on the table with such force as to cause the birds nesting in the tree across the courtyard to take flight. “He wishes to humiliate me further, the dog! The scoundrel! As if insulting me for my damned hayfever, over which I have no control, wasn’t enough.”

Athos nodded sagely, watching as D’Artagnan pawed at his reddened nose with a series of enraged sniffles. “The only question which remains is,” the older man said, “what do you intend to do about it?”

“Well, there is only one thing that can be done, I suppose.” When none of his friends showed indication of following his logic, Aramis continued as though supremely put-upon. “We convey a message to the rascal Menard and pray that he sees sense.” 

Immediately, Porthos and D’Artagnan rose with a clamor from the table, and Aramis shook his head. “He cannot fight like this!” He gestured to the sniffling Gascon. “If the flowers have such an effect on him merely by being in the vicinity, imagine what it will be like when they are at his feet!”

“You advise him to back down from a challenge?” Porthos snarled. “Pardieu, Aramis, I fear you really have taken your clerical lessons too much to heart!”

D’Artagnan opened his mouth, no doubt to add another remark in spirited agreement with Porthos, but the only thing which issued forth from his mouth was another fit of sneezing, which of course incidentally supported Aramis’s argument. “HETCHOO! Hehh’TSCHH’uhhh! Heh’hhhRSHHHH! Ihh’ISSHHH!”

Once it was clear the young man had finished, Athos spoke. “The challenge is D’Artagnan’s, and so it is up to the Gascon to decide the course of action.” His light eyes roved the length of D’Artagnan’s body, like an appraiser studying a jewel. “But as his second, I issue this condition: Spar with me now. If you land a touch, you may go.”

D’Artagnan whined like a child. “But Athos is the best swordsman in the regiment!”

“All the more reason a touch should be proof of your fitness, then.”

Athos drew his longsword and, with a discomfited hmph, so too did D’Artagnan. Soon the crash of sword against sword broke the silent air as the two fought, Athos wearing an expression of curious disengagement all the while D’Artagnan scurried around like a rat to parry his blows.

“Don’t tire him out before he’s even fought!” Porthos called.

Aramis hit him on the shoulder. “Oh, hush Porthos!”

But the two of them had noticed the sweat that was already beading on D’Artagnan’s forehead, especially in contrast to the way Athos hardly seemed to move. The Gascon was far from fighting fit, that much was certain, his position firmly on the defensive even though Athos was clearly not giving his all. He leaned to the side to let off two sneezes.

“KSHH! Heh’KSHH!”

“Sneezing on me does not count as a touch,” Athos said. He raised the tip of his sword to D’Artagnan’s throat as the man blinked heavily. “Let’s go!”

Perhaps the ribbing had induced some new vigor in the young man, for not long afterward did he make a small, neat cut on the fabric of Athos’s shirt near his shoulder. D’Artagnan smiled, his breaths heaving, and stowed his sword back in its sheath.

Athos did the same and shrugged. “A promise is a promise.”

“This is folly,” Aramis said sharply. 

Athos tapped his chin. “That balm from your mother—would it help in this situation?”

D’Artagnan sniffled bitterly, taking his friend’s concern as a mockery. “Seeing as though I have no wound which is external, I should think not.”

“Given his nose’s sensitivity at present, the herbal scent would likely do more harm than good anyway,” Aramis added, and then sighed deeply. “If you must fight, promise me you will duel only to first blood.”

Porthos and D'Artagnan rose again in a bleating chorus. “Aramis—“

Athos shook his head. “On this I must side with Aramis, I’m afraid.”

D’Artagnan cried out with the sharp fervor only a young man deeply incensed by the injustices of the world can possess. “But I landed my touch!”

“Only after I would have taken your sneezing head off ten times over.”

Aramis smiled to himself, and D’Artagnan sulked into his handkerchief. He remained nearly as taciturn as Athos for the rest of the morning, despite his friend’s attempts to rouse his spirits and engage him in their conversations to pass the time. In his view, there was not much to be said, not when every bit of the world from his friends to the flora seemed to side against him.

At last the time came for them to depart to the Tuileries for the duel, which revived D’Artagnan somewhat, as much as a man who can hardly breathe through his nose can be lively.  The first thing he noted upon arrival at the gardens was that Aramis had told the truth; all other types of verdure had seemingly been neglected in favor of the accursed purple blossoms. The tickle which had assaulted his nose all day quadrupled, despite being near the bounds of intolerable before.

The second thing he noted was that Menard awaited him, with only one man as his second. “I must say, Monsieur D’Artagnan,” the Red Guard said, “given the state of you earlier, I am quite surprised to see you here.”

D’Artagnan rubbed his nose in an attempt to quit the infernal tickle before he spoke, but the gesture was futile. “What is it, Monsieur Menard? Eh’KSHHH! Heh’KSHHH! Do you mean to imply that I am–Hhh’RSHHH!--not a man of my word?”

“Nothing of the sort!” Menard held up his hands. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I am shocked to see a man remain so bound to his word despite the obvious…” He trailed off, brow furrowed in slight disgust at the noises D’Artagnan was making. “The obvious cost to him to do so.”

The Gascon regarded his opponent through vision made blurry with tears. “I am not a man to be felled easily, of that you can be certain! Not by you and most definitely–Ahh’KSHH’uhh!-- not—KSHHH’ooo!-- by a damn hay fever! HESHOOO!”

Menard gave a clipped nod. “That much is plain to see.” For a moment all was silent (save, of course, for the various noises of D’Artagnan which could not be helped), until at last the Red Guard spoke again. “I am willing to withdraw my earlier statements and dueling challenge in the face of such determination, if you are willing to do the same?”

‘Heh’RSHHH’uhh!” His nose was beginning to feel as though it was swelling shut, and D’Artagnan could scarcely see through all the irritated tears which clouded his vision. A year ago, perhaps, he would have barreled on with the challenge like a headstrong ox–in all honesty, he was still quite tempted to–but he congratulated himself on the wise temperament he was developing with age as he nodded.

“I am.”

Menard offered his hand. “In that case, Monsieur D’Artagnan?”

“Monsieur Renard,” D’Artagnan said, and shook his hand. 

“It is settled?”

“Heh’KSHHH!” He leaned to the side and withdrew his hand to grasp for his sodden handkerchief. “So it is.”

With that, the two parted ways. The Gascon returned to his friends, his whole face feeling as though it were being pressed in a vice, and they hurried to lead him out of the gardens and hopefully, back to his apartments by way of streets that were relatively flower-free.

“I still say we let the scoundrel off too easily,” Porthos grumbled. “He obviously knew what he was doing, setting the Tuileries as the meeting place.”

“I still maintain that D'Artagnan should not have gone at all,” Aramis countered. “Look what a scant ten minutes there has done to him!”

“The two of you can bicker all you like once we have deposited the Gascon back at his lodgings and me back at mine,” Athos said. “We face more pressing issues at the moment, like whose handkerchiefs D’Artagnan will use now, that his has clearly been used up.” 

D’Artagnan was helpless to reply, save for a thundering, “HAHSHHHOOO!”

#i had so much fucking fun writing this #like obviously i enjoy writing but this was just like a barrel of laughs #still probably the only allergy fic i'll ever write though #sicktember 2022 #snzfic #allergyfic #my writing #more muskie snz!!! #sicktember day 13

[sugarcoatednightshade]

thinking about how Humans Are Space Orcs stories always talk about how indestructible humans are, our endurance, our ability to withstand common poisons, etc. and thats all well and good, its really fun to read, but it gets repetitive after a while because we aren't all like that.

And that got me thinking about why this trope is so common in the first place, and the conclusion I came to is actually kind of obvious if you think about it. Not everyone is allowed to go into space. This is true now, with the number of physical restrictions placed on astronauts (including height limits), but I imagine it's just as strict in some imaginary future where humans are first coming into contact with alien species. Because in that case there will definitely be military personnel alongside any possible diplomatic parties.

And I imagine that all interactions aliens have ever had up until this point have been with trained personnel. Even basic military troops conform to this standard, to some degree. So aliens meet us and they're shocked and horrified to discover that we have no obvious weaknesses, we're all either crazy smart or crazy strong (still always a little crazy, academia and war will do that to you), and not only that but we like, literally all the same height so there's no way to tell any of us apart.

And Humans Are Death Worlders stories spread throughout the galaxy. Years or decades or centuries of interspecies suspicion and hostilities preventing any alien from setting foot/claw/limb/appendage/etc. on Earth until slowly more beings are allowed to come through. And not just diplomats who keep to government buildings, but tourists. Exchange students. Temporary visitors granted permission to go wherever they please, so they go out in search of 'real terran culture' and what do they find?

Humans with innate heart defects that prevent them from drinking caffeine. Humans with chronic pain and chronic fatigue who lack the boundless endurance humans are supposedly famous for. Humans too tall or too short or too fat to be allowed into space. Humans who are so scared of the world they need to take pills just to function. Humans with IBS who can't stand spicy foods, capsaicin really is poison to them. Lactose intolerance and celiac disease, my god all the autoimmune disorders out there, humans who struggle to function because their own bodies fight them. Humans who bruise easily and take too long to heal. Humans who sustained one too many concussions and now struggle to talk and read and write. Humans who've had strokes. Humans who were born unable to talk or hear or speak, and humans who through some accident lost that ability later.

Aliens visit Earth, and do you know what they find? Humanity, in all its wholeness.

#humans are space orcs #humans in space #earth is a deathworld #earth is space australia #tagging this so that ppl can find it even though the space shit i write about always feels like its in direct opposition to all the pop tag #also my biggest pet peeve in all of writing - all writing. everywhere. not just in fanfic but books and tv and movies too - is when people #write off an injury by saying something like 'oh nothing bad just a couple of scratches some bruising and a minor concussion' like girl WHA #MiNOr ConCuSSioN is such an oxymoron and I hate it so fucking much. like i dont care how minor it was thats still brain damage. #especially when the same character does this more than once. like im sorry ms. but uh. you can no longer read. or talk eloquently. sorry #evidence: my brother has had two 'minor' concussions and now cannot read write or speak without tremendous effort. And like its totally #ruined my ability to watch action shows/movies because now i just sit there and count how many concussions there characters are getting #after a certain point it becomes totally impossible to believe that these guys are able to function. (still fun to watch tho im not a hater

[radioactive-earthshine]

NGL I have STRONG opinions about digital releases omitting the letters to the editor section of older comics. I feel like the letters are a part of comic history and should be aggressively preserved.

#look i was a weirdo and loved the letters so much #so much #so fucking damn much #i still to this day mourn that we don't have them #sometimes the editors would publish blatant aggressive criticism and promise to do better on some things #it was rare but it did happen in a handful of things involving stereotypes #also there is queer history in them such as in superboy and the ravers where people wrote in about hero #asking WHY he was not interested in women and this editor had to so professionally explain that he was GAY and where they stood on it #you also got to read queer readers writing in about these queer characters and the JOY in their words is priceless #also sorry but geoff's letters are fun and stupid at the same time and are a huge insight to what his hcs were #he LOVED tiny krypto so much it likely inspired him making dex starr bc he loved the idea of a small overly powered animal #not saying that was the main reason why ofc but it is interesting that he created dex after praising that mean little mutt #i say with the most love #my venting #my rambles

[chessb0r3d]

i cracked the code.

#believing dirk is the worst guy because its what dirk thinks of himself #ignoring daves bisexuality and think hes a gay man in denial even when he explained hes bisexual #believing john 'im not a homosexual' egbert is explicitly straight while he makes out with his mcconahey and cameron posters more #than he kissed women(literally only once) #believing that rose is an edgy psyhcotic little bitch when she was neglected. she speaks elegantly to cover that shes silly and a total ner #and how did people forget that rose also writes gay wizard fanfiction. reads Wikipedia. and her beautiful artstyle as a result of neglect #(and by neglect meaning having SO MUCH TIME to draw) #jake wasnt into dirk. he also told di that he didnt like how brobot getting touchy with him during strifes #but as part of the repression 4(prospit kids). he refused on changing the bot settings #what jane said about roxy being better when she was drunk. it was fucking sarcasm. its the least insane shit you could say to a best friend #all the kids have issues and of course people get mad over a girl being sarcastic. #when KARKAT said THE SAME THING to rose when she was drunk on the meteor nobody bats an eye #trolls are just grey humans that are bugs. he doesnt get an excuse for being an alien. humans were made from KARKATS BLOOD #jade isnt all silly girl and is so FULL OF HATE towards the trolls. she called karkat a fuckass (VERY FUNNY) to do her a favor #“jade would rather have punched karkat in the fact then had a pleasent conversation with him.” #“she viewed the trolls as rude mean and cruel. and even thought that nepeta was just making fun of her. #despite it being that nepeta just wanted to roleplay and have fun." #dred.loki #I HAVE YET TO ADD MORE. THESE ARE JUST NOTES #homestuck #chss

[xxrat--punkxx]

obsessed w the resurrection beasts istfg its so gender, based off of @briarwickart’s design

#bruhhhhhhhh #im only on chapter 3 so chill w the spilers #im spending way to fucking much time annotating the book lmaoo #lik ive wrtten 3/4 pages on harrow in just snnotations #considering writing a kind of essay on each act when i finish them literally just for fun #i call this 'i got a 9 in my english and im currently not studying english so this is how i cope' #but uh yeah this shit is metal af what #i was like ohhh maybe they have a design when god mentioned them and holy fuck i was not disapointed #i had to draw them ahhh #no idea how big they are or how they move or anything #but ayo new gender dropepd #yes i drew it in the book #i do wanna post my nnotations and my thoughts because i hve so fucking much #none of them are legible tho lamoooo #my art #harrow the ninth #the locked tomb #resurrection beast #tamsyn muir

[yikesharringrove]

hi i've missed you!

can we do something soft and just cute like going for drives and getting fast food and just talking?

“I’m picking you up,” came the crackling voice from the walkie talkie on the nightstand. “Meet me at the spot in ten. Over.”

“No, you freakazoid,” Steve barely moved from his blanket cocoon, only reaching one arm out to press the button on the side. “I’m asleep.”

“Clearly not. I’m on my way, Shithead. Over and out.”

Steve rolled his eyes, and contemplated going back to sleep for all of five seconds before he sighed, and heaved himself to standing.

Curse Billy for stealing that walkie from Max, for suggesting they stay on their own channel, different than the ones the kids use. Curse Billy for his insomnia and his late night drives. Curse Billy for the way he keeps on hand on Steve’s thigh while they go and always stops at the nearest drive-thru to get Steve a milkshake and wolf down a double cheeseburger (because his dad slapped him and sent him to his room without dinner. Again.)

Steve trudged around the side of his house, crashing through the well-worn path through the sparse trees to the road on the other side.

They both agreed that Billy’s car shouldn’t be spotted outside of Steve’s house, even if they were publicly friends now.

The Camaro was rumbling up the street, and Steve could practically feel the road of the engine shake in his chest before he could even spot the headlights.

Doesn’t matter how many speeding tickets Officer Callahan gives him, Billy’s never gonna be a sensible driver.

He stops in front of Steve, and he grins as Steve joins him in the car, leaning over the center console and burying his left hand in thick, dark brown hair to kiss Steve in a way that steals the breath from his lungs.

“You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, Princess. I’ll get you a damn milkshake.”

The car lurched forward, and they flew down the service roads, flipping off the Leaving Hawkins sign as they went past, on their way to a different little town.

A different little slice of life.

#idk if this is what you had in mind but it’s what I got :) #I’ve had such a nightmare week #so much crazy shit went down at work with some of our seventh graders #and some of our theater kids were in chat roulette (or ig the current equivalent) during rehearsal and saw a dick bc #they figured out how to get around our censors on their school chromebooks #and also my grandpa was given weeks to live #and I crashed my fucking car #so that’s cool I’m having fun I love everything <3 #on the other hand I saw one of my all time favorite bands again last night and it was really just what I needed #okay anyway that’s been my week hope you enjoyed #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #yikes writes

[residentrookie]

(8/31) prompt: takeout — 1,213 words (implied nsfw) (regulus conveniently forgets to tell james about his birthday) @jegulus-microfic

Regulus wouldn’t say he has a favorite time of day per say, but if he were held at gunpoint and forced to pick he supposes he’d choose somewhere in the range of 5:30 and 6:00 pm. If you asked him why, he’d tell you it’s because he likes watching the sun go down and not because that’s when James Potter stops by his apartment after his daily trip to the gym. 

And it’s definitely not because he always arrives dressed in his tight, slutty tank tops, skin still glistening with a light layer of sweat, salty and earthy and so distinctively James smelling. 

(In truth, it makes Regulus feel fucking insane, but he tries to hide that bit.) 

Today, when he rips open his door at 5:47 he’s met with that exact sight: James, smiling but slightly out of breath, a duffle bag slung over one toned shoulder that’s of course sinfully on display. Seriously, his fucking arms…

“Hi.” 

Regulus smiles back helplessly, the smallest uptick of one side of his mouth. He opens the door wider, tilting his head to invite James inside. They’ve been seeing each other for about a month now (and these evening visits have only been a thing for the past week), but James seems to have a routine already set in place. He toes his shoes off by the front door (Regulus never asked him to, but he must have noticed that Regulus always removes his own and followed suit). The duffle bag comes off his shoulder about five steps inside, set neatly against the wall and out of the way, before he turns to Regulus and gives him “the look.” It definitely belongs in the category of “begging” (Regulus is getting better at identifying that one) but as for what he’s begging for? 

Regulus rolls his eyes but huffs a laugh. “Seriously? Again?” 

If the sex wasn't so good, he'd be forced to believe that James' only reason for coming here was to raid his kitchen.

James’ face grows somehow more pitiful. “I forgot to pack a snack after the gym and I’m starving, Regulus, honestly, or I wouldn’t ask—” 

He would, he’s shameless. Regulus doesn’t mind. 

“Fine. But I’m not cooking you anything tonight. It’s Friday. I don’t cook on Fridays.” 

“Okay, fair.” 

Regulus waves a hand behind him as he saunters to the living room. “Anything in the fridge is up for grabs.” 

“Fuck yes,” James says with the enthusiasm of a growing teenage boy (he’s 25). “You know, I would take this opportunity to shower you with compliments but uh,” he pauses, knowing Regulus’ curiosity will force him to glance back over his shoulder, “I’ll save that for later, yeah?” 

James’ cheeky grin only grows as he watches Regulus’ face get hot. With that, he’s ducking his head down into the fridge and Regulus is left to wonder exactly how fast James clocked his praise kink. He supposes he’s not exactly subtle about it. 

“Hey what’s in this brown box, Reg?” James asks a few moments later, his voice muffled as he rumages through the fridge. “Leftovers? Or takeout?” 

Regulus blinks, remembering. “Oh, uh, neither— that one— actually, that’s—” 

James reappears, his face a mask of confusion as he stairs down into the open takeout box. “Cake?” 

Regulus’ face is burning again, but for a completely different reason. “Um. Yeah.” 

“You don’t eat cake.” 

It's true. Regulus told him that once on a date when James insisted on ordering dessert for them. He’d just forgotten to mention his only exception. 

“Well. I do when it’s my birthday.” 

The takeout container drops from James’ hands, forgotten. He stares at Regulus with utter horror, eyes wide and jaw hanging. 

“Y-your— birthday— When? When the fuck did you have a birthday and not tell me about it?” 

Regulus winces a bit at James’ tone, his brother’s earlier words coming back to him. 

James is a birthday guy, okay? Any chance he gets to celebrate the people he loves is like… like a fucking holiday for him. So just let him have it. 

Okay but I am not a “birthday guy," Sirius, Regulus had pointed out stubbornly. His brother of all people, the only other person with first person insight into their upbringing, should know this by now. Shouldn’t I have a say on who does and doesn’t know about my birthday? It’s not a big deal.  

Sirius had sighed, one of those really put upon exhales that made Regulus roll his eyes at the drama of it all. Whatever, Reg. Tell your boyfriend or don’t, I don’t give a fuck. Just know if you don’t, you’ll regret it. 

Not my boyfriend, Regulus had mumbled, resisting the temptation to add the word “yet.” 

“You were out of town,” Regulus points out to James weakly.

He bats the excuse away. “So this past weekend, then. I was with your fucking brother, he couldn’t have mentioned it?” 

“I asked him not to.” 

“Of course you did. Oh my god, I wouldn’t have gone out of town if I knew, I would have planned something— a nice dinner, like steak or something, or no, you like that Italian place in town— and then we could have had a picnic on the beach because it was a full moon and I could have made chocolate covered strawberries because I know you like those, or actually I could have made you a fucking cake since you seem to eat them exclusively on your birthday.” He pauses his rant, looking increasingly agitated and distressed before turning to Regulus, incredulous. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have— I would have—” 

“James,” Regulus says, stepping back into the kitchen, walking all the way up to him. “James. Hey.” It takes a second for the tension in James’ shoulder to drop completely, but when it does, Regulus continues. “My birthday isn’t— it’s not exactly my favorite day of the year. In fact, I try to treat it exactly like every other day, like there’s nothing special going on at all.” 

“But that’s so sad,” James whispers. 

Regulus shrugs. “Not to me. My parents made my birthdays hell. They were family events. It was about everyone in the world except for the person actually turning another year older and I had to wear fucking ties and I hated them and everyone there. And they never let me eat the cake. It was “for guests.” 

James sighs. “Everyday, I think I can’t hate them more…” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Regulus admits. “I should have. I know you enjoy… celebrating.” He bumps James’ shoulder lightly with his fist. When he goes to move his hand, James captures it, holding it to his chest. 

“I want to celebrate you however you want to be celebrated, baby.” James’ voice is soft and warm. Regulus closes his eyes and leans into it. 

“However I want, hm?” he murmurs, his forehead resting against James’ chin. “You mean that?” 

He feels James pull away before looking up, brown eyes engulfing him in a sea of sinful intentions. 

“You know I do.” 

“Thought you were hungry,” Regulus says breathlessly, already pulling them away, backing up in the direction of his room. 

“Believe me,” James tells him shamelessly, “I am.”

#they are just so!!!!! #i had so much fun writing this #regulus not liking cake but eating it on his birthday as a fuck you to his parents who never let him have it is a new level of pettiness #i fucking love him #also! james knowing all the things regulus loves!! #the man pays attention! he's attentive as fuck! #and yeah... yeah james is very hungry actually now that u mention it #special shout out to the slutty gym tank tops #hope u enjoyed! #jegulus #jegulus microfic

[atopvisenyashill]

connections between naerys and sansa?

There’s plenty! She’s very much in a Naerys/Aegon scenario in ASOS & ACOK, where she has no ability to leave the capital, no one doing anything meaningful to protect her, and a King that is obsessed with sexually humiliating her. There’s a lot of romanticism and chivalry surrounding her character and how other people react to her character, the same as Naerys.

But also, Sansa makes the comparisons to Naerys herself, and she does it before she realizes what kind of person Joffrey is! In fact, it starts with her very first chapter where she compares Joffrey interrupting Ilyn Payne & Sandor Clegane to Aemon demanding a trial by combat against Ser Morgil:

A whole day with her prince! She gazed at Joffrey worshipfully. He was so gallant, she thought. The way he had rescued her from Ser Ilyn and the Hound, why, it was almost like the songs, like the time Serwyn of the Mirror Shield saved the Princess Daeryssa from the giants, or Prince Aemon the Dragonknight championing Queen Naerys's honor against evil Ser Morgil's slanders.

She will compare Joffrey to Aemon and herself to Naerys again later, to Ned:

"Father, I only just now remembered, I can't go away, I'm to marry Prince Joffrey." She tried to smile bravely for him. "I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies."

(lowkey she’s so fucking funny for that “i only just now remembered” comment, idk how ned kept a straight face for it)

She then uses Aemon (and the Cargyll twins) to make Tommen feel better and dunk on Joffrey:

Prince Tommen sobbed. "You mew like a suckling babe," his brother hissed at him. "Princes aren't supposed to cry." "Prince Aemon the Dragonknight cried the day Princess Naerys wed his brother Aegon," Sansa Stark said, "and the twins Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk died with tears on their cheeks after each had given the other a mortal wound." "Be quiet, or I'll have Ser Meryn give you a mortal wound," Joffrey told his betrothed.

Again, there’s a focus on Aemon’s romantic relationship with Naerys because that's what appeals to Sansa. But when people say "Sansa sees the world through stories" it's not just about how she romanticizes or idolizes knighthood, nobility, and chivalry - she thinks through information by comparing it with similar historical events or stories and analyzing it. She clearly sees the problem with Loras protecting Margaery from Joffrey by comparing him to the Toynes instead of Aemon, and Joffrey (once again) to Aegon the Unworthy:

She is so brave, Sansa thought, galloping after her . . . and yet, her doubts still gnawed at her. Ser Loras was a great knight, all agreed. But Joffrey had other Kingsguard, and gold cloaks and red cloaks besides, and when he was older he would command armies of his own. Aegon the Unworthy had never harmed Queen Naerys, perhaps for fear of their brother the Dragonknight . . . but when another of his Kingsguard fell in love with one of his mistresses, the king had taken both their heads. Ser Loras is a Tyrell, Sansa reminded herself. That other knight was only a Toyne. His brothers had no armies, no way to avenge him but with swords. Yet the more she thought about it all, the more she wondered. Joff might restrain himself for a few turns, perhaps as long as a year, but soon or late he will show his claws, and when he does . . . The realm might have a second Kingslayer, and there would be war inside the city, as the men of the lion and the men of the rose made the gutters run red.

She’s also not wrong in her assessment here because the Tyrells (my guess is Garlan and Olenna) are so worried about this outcome they just murder Joffrey and install Tommen; like Bethany Bracken, Margaery is groomed (with all the implications that are included in such a loaded term) to be sexually available to the King because her father wants power and doesn't care if his daughter is sexually abused to get it. Like Terrance Toyne, Loras is considered attractive, skilled, and has several brothers more than willing to start a war to avenge his death. I think it's incredibly intuitive that Sansa ultimately comes to the same conclusion as two seasoned political players like (presumably) Olenna and Garlan come to, and she makes this judgement call very quickly!

And Sansa also hits on a lot of (correct) similarities when she makes these comparisons between Joffrey's court and Aegon the Unworthy's court; Aegon and Joffrey both have wild, violent temperaments while being notoriously difficult to control. It’s not just Naerys that attempts to get Aegon to stop marital raping her; Aemon’s useless tears aside, Viserys does do the bare minimum here in sending Aegon away so Naerys can heal from her miscarriages, Daeron got shitty with the Brackens about being tacky over Naerys' marital rape and ill health, Baelor fasts himself to death over Naerys’ miscarriages, etc etc. All of the “authority figures” around Aegon think his behavior is wrong but Aegon proves stubbornly difficult to control or kill. Joffrey falls along these same lines - Cersei, Robert, Tyrion, Tywin, and even Varys all struggle to get some control over Joffrey but like Aegon, he knows once he’s of age and has that crown he doesn’t have to answer for SHIT and stubbornly resists every attempt to curb his behavior. Joffrey is a hell scenario waiting to happen because like Aegon, he’s petty and petulant enough to pull the stunts Aegon pulls like pitting his true born kids against his bastard born ones and causing another violent succession crisis. I say this as like, the ultimate Joffrey Apologist here, lmaooo, he has reasons for being a nasty piece of shit but the Tyrells are right to look at him and go “oh that’s trouble” because he is a ticking time bomb. And the crazy thing is, it’s not just Sansa who compares Joffrey to Aegon the Unworthy:

"A king can have other women. Whores. My father did. One of the Aegons did too. The third one, or the fourth. He had lots of whores and lots of bastards." As they whirled to the music, Joff gave her a moist kiss. "My uncle will bring you to my bed whenever I command it." Sansa shook her head. "He won't." "He will, or I'll have his head. That King Aegon, he had any woman he wanted, whether they were married or no."

Joffrey makes the comparison himself. He's a piece of work just like his hero and he is directly threatening to rape Sansa the same way Aegon raped Naerys and poor Bethany Bracken. He is directly admitting he is "unworthy" and practically daring all of KL to overthrow him for it because he thinks they'll blink before he does (and he is unfortunately deadly wrong in this assumption).

And when you extrapolate out from there, you can see other, similar patterns between Naerys' life and Sansa's, beyond the Joffrey-Aegon, Margaery-Bethany, Loras-Terrance, and Sansa-Naerys parallels. Tyrion himself aspires to be a sort of Viserys II type player (see: "It should have been called the Lives of Five Kings" rant he gives to Oberyn); a power behind the throne directing his crazy family to do what's right or smart or proper. There's an interesting echo in Viserys taking direct action in sending Aegon away from Naerys and Tyrion stopping Joffrey in his assault of Sansa - like Viserys, he can see the monster in the king he is raising, makes an attempt to stop it, but fails because he underestimates just how dangerous and erratic his little king has become. Like Viserys, Tyrion is suspected of poisoning his own nephew in an attempt to get closer to power and the throne (and Viserys, like Tyrion, is probably innocent - the sort of fasting that Baelor was doing regularly is hard on the body!).

I don't think any of this is coincidental or accidental either, because of that haunting scene where Joffrey destroys the gift Tyrion got him. Here's the scene, excuse the wall of text, but it's important:

He plays the gracious king today. Joffrey could be gallant when it suited him, Sansa knew, but it seemed to suit him less and less. Indeed, all his courtesy vanished at once when Tyrion presented him with their own gift: a huge old book called Lives of Four Kings, bound in leather and gorgeously illuminated. The king leafed through it with no interest. "And what is this, Uncle?" A book. Sansa wondered if Joffrey moved those fat wormy lips of his when he read. "Grand Maester Kaeth's history of the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good," her small husband answered. "A book every king should read, Your Grace," said Ser Kevan. “My father had no time for books.” Joffrey shoved the tome across the table. “If you read less, Uncle Imp, perhaps Lady Sansa would have a baby in her belly by now.” He laughed … and when the king laughs, the court laughs with him. “Don’t be sad, Sansa, once I’ve gotten Queen Margaery with child I’ll visit your bedchamber and show my little uncle how it’s done.” Sansa reddened. She glanced nervously at Tyrion, afraid of what he might say. This could turn as nasty as the bedding had at their own feast. But for once the dwarf filled his mouth with wine instead of words... [Joffrey gets a Valyrian sword and figures out a name for it, Widow's Wail, it's a few pages, it's not relevant here] Joffrey brought Widow’s Wail down in a savage two-handed slice, onto the book that Tyrion had given him. The heavy leather cover parted at a stroke. “Sharp! I told you, I am no stranger to Valyrian steel.” It took him half a dozen further cuts to hack the thick tome apart, and the boy was breathless by the time he was done. Sansa could feel her husband struggling with his fury as Ser Osmund Kettleblack shouted, “I pray you never turn that wicked edge on me, sire.” “See that you never give me cause, ser.” Joffrey flicked a chunk of Lives of Four Kings off the table at swordpoint, then slid Widow’s Wail back into its scabbard. “Your Grace,” Ser Garlan Tyrell said. “Perhaps you did not know. In all of Westeros there were but four copies of that book illuminated in Kaeth’s own hand.” “Now there are three.” Joffrey undid his old swordbelt to don his new one. “You and Lady Sansa owe me a better present, Uncle Imp. This one is all chopped to pieces.”

God I love that passage so much. There's a lot there but what's relevant is a) both Oberyn and Garlan are trying to get a measure of who Joffrey is, and have some child murdering plans potentially in the works during this scene. Watching Joffrey destroy a priceless tome of history given as a well thought, well meant, incredibly generous (and pointed) gift from his uncle is more than enough proof for either man to decide Joffrey is not worth the headache, and please note Garlan is the only person to call Joffrey out to his face, and Oberyn is a few pages later the only person to acknowledge this was a fantastic and kind gift from Tyrion that Joffrey reacted absolutely deranged towards for no reason. and b) Tyrion is almost literally saying to Joffrey "I can be your Viserys, I can make it so you're remembered as a great king the way Daeron II or Baelor are, or a great warrior like Daeron I, but you have to understand the reason why I'm worried about your behavior" and Joffrey does the most destructive, unworthy thing he can possibly do - he quite literally destroys priceless, useful historical knowledge and wisdom with his bare hands, in favor of senseless, petulant violence. As Catelyn would say, Joffrey's real bride is not Margaery, but the war he's fighting and the crown on his head.

All of this to say - there's a lot of parallels between Sansa's situation in KL and Naery's life and these parallels are drawn not only by Sansa herself, but also by several people around her. However, I hope for better things for Sansa than what poor Naerys got - I hope for an Aemon the Dragonknight that will do more than just cry while she's raped, but actually step into that room and defend her, or else give her the power to defend herself. Despite the long wait for The Winds of Winter, I also think it's likely we will get some sort of Dragonknight, devoted sworn sword for Sansa and this person will help protect her, and Sansa will have agency that Naerys could only ever dream of.

#valyrianscrolls #sansa stark #naerys targaryen #aemon the dragonknight #aegon the unworthy #joffrey baratheon #tyrion lannister #margaery tyrell #loras tyrell #olenna tyrell #garlan tyrell #terrence toyne #bethany bracken #courtly and chivalric love #i'm not knocking tyrion for not quite seeing how dangerous joffrey is. *no one* sees it bc Systemic Patriarchy and Feudal Violence. #whether its brienne arya jon bronze yohn fucking podrick i do believe we will get a knight for sansa tho!!! #once again sorry this took so long. i had a lot more to say than i expected. #also. thank you so much for this ask this was sooooooooo much fun to write out. we are analyzing themes babeeeeee #getting on my soap box #knighthood and oath keeping #true knights #fuck i think that's all my tags #i had another section about how the show really styles her to look pale and sickly during season 3 and 4 but i had trouble phrasing it #so i just cut it. but that scene where margaery gives her the red and yellow rose and sansa looks like death? naerys vibes fr!!! #naerys and sansa parallels #jon and the aemons

[gothwizardmagic]

moonlight exists

My first large scale pixel project in over ten years! Feeling pretty rusty, but I'm super happy with how this came out! Normal size and progress gif under the cut.

Progress gif saved in roughly 1 hour intervals

#red dwarf #rimster #dave lister #arnold rimmer #red dwarf fanart #pixel art #art #artists on tumblr #pixel artist #hOUGH MY GOD I CANT BELIEVE IM FINALLY DONE WITH THIS #IT WAS FUN BUT SO MUCH FUCKGIN WORRRRRKKKKKKKKKKKKK #i dont think ive ever spent this long on an art project ever #fourteen hours over the course of a week.................... #well over half of them on rimmer because i couldnt figure out chris barries FUCKING FACE #im still happier with lister but im DONE with this lmao #rimster nation i did this for You #ty to the red dwarf discord for putting up with ten thousand wips of this we are all finally free #watch me post it then immediately spot another mistake #ive already edited it twice since i started writing the actual post #and had to go back and make tweaks quickly #no im done im DONE i refuse to be not done anymore i am DONE #rowan doodles

[sstar-ggirl]

The Lights shine brighter when you’re there.

Pairing: Alex Turner x AFAB!reader (but u can read as wtv u want)

Word count:1081 (this ain’t a blurb ts a fic atp😭💀)

Summary: filming for TBHC, 2018 era, super cute fluff shit

Mars rambles abt things: AIGHT SO I NEED THIS MAN TERRIBLY BAD. ESPECIALLY TBHC ALEX😭. Anyways I wrote a cute little fluff fic for the first time in forever bc I had time(FINALLY) anyways I’ll try to write as much as I can.

The set was abuzz with anticipation as Alex Turner prepared to film the music video for his latest album. Surrounded by a team of producers and filming crew, he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement for this particular project. The album was a supposed to be “a playful tune, super smooth but makes you feel expensive”he said when you asked about it. It carried a personal touch that resonated deeply with him – and he had the perfect person to share the screen with, his girlfriend, you. His most prized possession, something he wants to show off forever.

As the cameras started rolling, the set was transformed into a mesmerizing, eye catching jazz bar. The director, recognizing the unique connection between Alex and you, aimed to capture not just the essence of the song but also the genuine emotion shared between you two. The first scene unfolded in a dimly lit but well decorated jazz bar, the air heavy with the lingering notes of the melody.

Alex, dressed in his signature 70s style, met you in the center of the set, dressed in a tight black dress with a long slit in the side, black heels with gold accessories. There was an unspoken understanding between you two, a silent agreement to let the music guide the movements. As the haunting notes filled the room, you two moved with a fluidity that spoke of a deep, unspoken connection. It was more than just a regular dance; it was a dance of the heart.

The director, observing from behind the monitors, couldn't help but marvel at the chemistry on display. The raw emotion conveyed through his and your expressions painted a vivid picture of love and longing. The first scene wrapped, leaving everyone on set with a sense of anticipation for what was to come.

During a break, Alex and you found a quiet corner to steal a moment away from the commotion. You two shared a deep hug and kiss, acknowledging the magic that was created by you two. As you two broke from the kiss, Alex couldn't help but express his gratitude for having you by his side.

"(Y/N), you brought something special to this video, in fact this whole album – something only you could inspire. It's like the songs, the lyrics, the melodies come to life when you're here, or at home or sitting in the studio waiting for me to wrap up. You are truly the muse for my art." he confessed, his eyes reflecting sincerity.

You grinned and blushed, "Well, I happen to think your music brings out the best in me too, Alex. This is a great masterpiece in every sense."

As the day progressed, the scenes became more diverse, each one telling a different chapter of the song's story. From a rooftop overlooking the casino to a dimly lit jazz bar to the pool setting, the couple seamlessly transitioned from one setting to another, their connection intensifying with each passing frame.

The highlight of the video was a sequence where Alex and you found yourselves dancing under a canopy of fairy lights. The soft glow accentuated the tenderness in your movements, creating a visual poetry that mirrored the song's emotional depth. The crew watched in awe as the couple moved through the enchanting scene, your silhouettes etched against the twinkling lights.

As the day drew to a close, the final scene approached. The director wanted to capture an intimate moment between Alex and you that would serve as the emotional climax of the video. The setting was a quiet, candlelit room – a metaphorical space where their love could unfold without any distractions. A safe haven that hides all troubles and shows your true self to eachother.

The room was adorned with vintage furniture and flickering candles, casting a warm glow on as you two stood face to face. The soft strains of the song echoed in the background, creating a cocoon of intimacy around you. The director, satisfied with the day's work, whispered instructions to the cinematographer, signaling the start of the final scene.

With a subtle nod, the cameras began to roll, capturing the delicate nuances of the couple's expressions. Alex gently reached for your hand, his touch conveying a silent reassurance. His eyes locked, and in that moment, the world outside the set ceased to exist. It was just the two of them, immersed in the emotions the song evoked.

As the lyrics unfolded, Alex sang with a soul-stirring resonance, his voice intertwining with yours in a beautiful harmony. The vulnerability in your eyes told a story of love, heartbreak, and the unspoken promise of togetherness. The director, realizing the magic happening before him, chose to let the scene unfold organically, without interrupting the flow.

The room seemed to disappear, replaced by a realm where only your emotions mattered. Alex's thumb traced gentle circles on your hand, a silent gesture of comfort. Your closeness spoke volumes, transcending the scripted nature of the scene. It was a genuine moment, an unfiltered expression of the love they shared.

As the last notes of the song lingered in the air, the director called for a cut. The crew erupted into applause, acknowledging the authenticity and beauty captured in that final scene. Alex momentarily pulled out of that intimate bubble, shared a knowing smile, proud of the art you two had created together. You couldn’t stop staring at him falling deep in love within each second.

With the filming wrapped, the couple found themselves outside the studio, bathed in the soft glow of the evening. The air was crisp, and the city lights twinkled in the distance. They walked hand in hand, reflecting on the day's journey.

"I can't believe we did it," you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with a mix of joy and exhaustion. Alex grinned, "It was magical, wasn't it? Having you by my side made it even more special. You’re really a present full of surprises aren’t you"

Later on, after leaving set, you two continued to stroll through the quiet streets, savoring the post-production bliss. The city seemed to have slowed down just for them, allowing them to relish the shared triumph. The music video, a testament to their love and collaboration, was destined to become a visual masterpiece.

Days later, as the video premiered to the world, fans and critics alike were captivated by the palpable chemistry between Alex Turner and you, (Y/N) (L/N). The comments flooded in, praising not only the song but also the genuine connection that elevated the video to a realm beyond ordinary music visuals.

In interviews, Alex and you shared snippets of their experience, emphasizing the organic nature of the collaboration. The music video, now a symbol of their artistic minds, resonated with audiences on a profound level, leaving an indelible mark on the hearts of those who watched it.

As the applause echoed and the views skyrocketed, Alex couldn't help but feel a sense of fulfillment. His journey- no Your journey together, from the studio to the screen, had not only produced a beautiful piece of art but had also strengthened the bond between eachother. The music video became a cherished chapter in your love story, a visual representation of the magic that happens when two hearts beat in perfect harmony.

#alex turner x reader #alex turner #tranquility base hotel and casino #arctic monkeys #i love him #I ADORE HIM #i had so much fun writing this #but writers block was fucking kicking my ass so hard I had to get my get back #IM UP THO #mars writing?!(rare occurrence) #LET MARS COOK 👩‍🍳

[magnolia-sunrise]

the halloween special, i mean, Medieval AU continues>> the arrival of the grievously wounded Kingsguard disrupts Bastien's very isolated, very drunk rural village life - but in much different way than he expected. somehow, miraculously, Wolfgang slowly recovers, and the two of them spend many evenings sharing wine and stories by the fireside, finding each other to be pleasant company.

but how long will the vampire be able to resist the call of the priest's blood >:3

#oc art #original characters #art #sketch #medieval au #wolfgang #bastien #wolfien #comics #god this turned into such a meme fsifjs please i hope you enjoy #i had way too much fun sketching these #next time we will find out what happened in Week 3 #to give you more context about bastiens little life he had plans of rising through the ranks and becoming a respected and rich bishop #instead he ends up assigned to a fuck off village in the south where the people dont really like him and he doesnt really like them #he spends his days tending to the few animals he keeps and tending to his shitty wine #when a knight comes knocking on his door hes like fuck. its the cops and they finally realized we havent been paying taxes #luckily for him this particular knight is in worse trouble than his whole village #i never know how much people want to know so i try to write succint posts but i have Lore for each of these interactions. feel free to ask

[antaresr]

Ok, but listen (and welcome back to another crazy analysis that I came up with out of nowhere because I had a lot of free time)

The Ishtar as representations of the Egyptian gods.

Bastet's mission was to protect the home and symbolizes the joy of living, as she is considered the deity of harmony and happiness. She is the personification of the warm rays of the Sun, she is the representation of femininity and elegance.

Marik was supposed to be the leader of the clan and protect it, but he wanted to be happy and be out of the tombs, he wanted to live, he wanted to be under the sun's rays, plus his hair is blonde, a color associated with the sun, He is handsome, he is masculine and elegant.

Plus his eyes look like cats' eyes if you ask me, with his outlined like the stripes of tabby cats.

But he was traumatized and filled with anger and wanted revenge, so he created Yami Marik.

She was a symbol of strength and power. She was considered the goddess of war and revenge, but also the goddess of healing, she was the protector of the pharaohs and guided them in war.

In some cases she was considered an ally and protector of Ra, since she killed those who dared to confront or attack the divine or earthly monarchy.

She had an insatiable bloodlust, to such a degree that she did not distinguish between allies or enemies.

Like YamiMa, he is powerful, the representation of Marik's fight and revenge, he protected Marik from everything that could harm him to keep him safe, he caused death/coma to those who stood in the way of Marik's wishes (Jounouichi , Mai, Rishid, his father).

Plus we've all seen the thousands of references to YamiMa's hair to a lion's mane and both YamiMa and Sekhmet have many names.

And YamiMa only calmed down when he saw Rishid.

She represented music, dance, joy, love, sexuality and maternal care, and acted as consort to various male deities and mother to their children. These two aspects of the goddess exemplified the Egyptian conception of femininity. She served as a wet nurse for the king and his court, and in this way she fed all the people of Egypt since the prosperity of the country was closely linked to the health, well-being and stability of the king.

She was part of the divine entourage that accompanied Ra as he sailed through the sky in his boat.

Rishid was a fundamental part of Marik's upbringing, he was like a father to him, replacing the biological father as a wet nurse, he wanted Marik's happiness, he loved him like a brother and took care of him like a father, he took the punishment when Marik and Ishizu came out of the tombs, and he wanted to take Marik's place in the ritual to avoid the pain and trauma it would cause him.

He was also part of the Ghouls to continue with Marik, after leaving the tombs, we can assume that he was the one who was in charge of maintaining his mental and physical health.

But his role as a father was also slightly overshadowed by Ishizu.

She is typically depicted as the generous and selfless mother, wife, and protector who puts the interests and well-being of others before her own. She was considered the divine mother of the pharaoh, who was identified with the god Horus. She as well as the most powerful sorceress Egypt ever saw. With this power she managed to save her son Horus, but she also became the patron goddess of people who practiced magic.

Ishizu is the selfless mother who fulfills the role assigned to her, fulfilling her duty to the pharaoh was important and almost a priority, however when it came to her brothers, mainly Marik, she did not mind leaving her duty relegated in favor of hera brother's well-being.

Just like Isis, she sought help from humanity (Yugi and company) to unite the pieces of her brother and return him to normal.

She is feminine, selfless, protective, maternal, she took care of Marik when they were children, stopping living her own childhood so that Marik could be happy, she helped him see what it was like outside the tombs because that is what he wanted to do.

Furthermore it is quite clear that she is Isis when we remember that her past life in ancient Egypt was called that.

#This was so fun to write. #I really like to analyze everything about the characters because #gods! They all have so much potential and had so little development #I'm going to make this a series #fuck everything #yugioh #ygo #marik ishtar #malik ishtar #yami marik #yami malik #rishid ishtar #odion ishtar #ishizu ishtar #isis ishtar #egyptian gods #edit #analysis #nerd talks #my inner nerd is satisfied

[goodness-graceous]

many zel*nk shippers when ANYONE tries to be happy about and enjoy a different ship involving Zelda or Link:

(this is about b*tw/t*tk, but can apply to any of the games if y’all wish 😌)

#ZelRah #sidlink #miphlink #implink #revlink #if y’all wanna rb 😌 #not tagging this with the fandom bc it’s just a rant #I am only posting this because my girlfriend keeps being upset BY HER OWN FRIENDS #like my girlfriend is the fucking frontman for purah and Zelda #it has had such a positive impact on her life #she’s writing and drawing when she was too anxious to do much of either before #and she just tries to be silly and say things she knows are sometimes reaches just bc ZelRah makes her so fucking happy #but nooo her fucking FRIENDS have to reply to her silly fun messages with attempting to disprove her #like- she’s fine with not talking about it! she’s even asked them to tell her to stop if she’s bothering them! #but instead they try to literally disprove something she’s having fun with to her face #when that has gone terribly every time #ugh sorry #goodness grace spoke

[crossbackpoke-check]

it’s all the rest of what i want with you

connor dewar/brandon duhaime :: 8k

Summary:

“Brandon,” Connor says with a sigh. “There’s no baby in there.”

“Not yet,” Brandon says. Connor feels his stomach twist, almost like what he would imagine a baby kicking to feel like.

in these trying times of dewvorce, may i offer you 8k of pwp inspired by @stillfertile’s wonderful art which i had. several breakdowns about 🫶 anyway please enjoy!!!

#OFFICIAL FIC ANNOUNCEMENT 🗣️🗣️🗣️‼️‼️‼️ i wish i had pretty fic graphics but alas i have No Skill and also. so much work i should be doing bu #HI SHE’S HERE i would love to say this is a complete surprise drop except i have Anxiety & i needed to ask you guys about it beforehand #in my defense i started writing this in like. january far before any tragedy occurred #because square asked about my tags on their dewey2 art and she spawned like. a million more thoughts about it #including the part where i got absolutely kicked in the face with the lightning vision of those two lines. #like those two lines are the first actual lines of the fic i wrote ajdhkwdiowdjiw ANYWAY please be nice to me i know i am always like #‘this is not the first real fic i ever thought i’d post’ and if i had a nickel i’d have three but this is the first pwp i’ve ever posted #and it’s 8k and it’s not a fic for an exchange (although technically i did very much write this for the dewey^2 hivemind so.) #i have SO many things to say i have so many comments on this doc also i couldn’t pick a title for the LONGEST time and i finally decided on #this one but the full quote was too long: #all the rest of what i want with you that scares me shitless #so. i was angling SO hard to make a yung gravy lyric as a title bc i saw the video of him at a wild game but i couldn’t find a good one #and instead y’all got a very sentimental title l m a o. #liv in the replies #shout out to the extended universe this lives in and also my unhinged comments in the docs. #if you liked fun fuck a baby in him friday i’ll be here all week i promise i am the exact same in the comments as i am in the tags 🫡 #the NUMBER of times i wrote something in this by pulling it out of my ass and then actually went back and did the research & was RIGHT is. #far too high. also the amount of coincidental things that dropped while i was writing this (yung gravy song about pregnancy AFTER i wheeze #laughed myself into a yung gravy title the athletic player poll confirming my restaurant & bar choices from googling ‘st. paul good bars’…) #also if anybody got advice on formatting for these little announcements. help. this is different from my miro/luka one &i’m still not happy

[astranauticus]

𝘚𝘤𝘢𝘳-𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴

#rolling with difficulty #vrla rwd #mrsn rwd #rwd starship #shoutout to fall out boy for writing lyrics that absolutely slap with no context i guess #get it. do you get it. cuz mechanites don't dream (starts sobbing) #something something the least mrsn could ask for is for vrla to remember him fondly and he can't even do that bc all his memories are gone #also yes it's a stylistic choice to draw mrsn as the starry apparition here but it's also absolutely bc the apparition is easier to draw #ITS SO FUN. i just do a white outline with a little gaussian blur then go to town on the starry background #between the astral sea and the mrsn ghost i just keep having to draw that kinda starry background and i have lots of custom brushes for it #and it's just. so much fun. just slapping colours and shinies on the canvas like a small child #the original idea i had in my head was significantly less... close contact but then i looked up couples dancing pose refs on pinterest #and got the fucking gayest reference image ever so here we are #WALAO TUMBLR MOBILE FUCKED UP THE RESOLUTION AGAIN NABEI #art I made