#please I’d be soooo insufferable !! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

macarensesangles · 3 years

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this map is in desperate need of restructuring bc i made it years ago so: on the lefthand/western side, please imagine the whole landmass over there is controlled by the eilege empire; on the righthand/eastern side, please imagine the eilege territory is kind of evenly divided between the plains and malum, and that the “contested” territory there is just more ilfas. i will probably create an updated map at some point and the landmasses will probably change but for now here’s kind of a quick & dirty idea of how things are.

on the eastern landmass, a bit further north than the map indicates, there is a GIGANTIC fucked up magical plain that people do not generally travel to. it’s largely considered “uninhabitable” and is very difficult to even get INTO properly, if you don’t do it right you just kind of hit the northern coast? getting there is like “clipping out of the map.” it used to be easier to travel there. the area between the northern border of this map and the coast is similarly kind of dangerous, and that’s what i mean by “north where elves live.”

under the cut is a bunch of infodumping on countries and their related cultural stuff. this is just from memory, there’s a lot i’d like to change and develop further but it’s gonna take some work lol

i usually start with ilfas bc it’s my favorite; most of the place is a desert. there’s an “out of bounds” area in ilfas, where you’re taken to a ruined city - that place is easy to travel to and from and an ENORMOUS market city operates between there and the “real world,” which sells both “real world” goods and things excavated from the city or exotic things found further out in the “out-of-bounds location.” it’s basically the backbone of their economy. they do good in trade and are a pretty wealthy country. there’s an extremely communal attitude there that sees very little division between “haves” and “have-nots;” plenty of people can’t get their hands on luxury goods, but it’s practically unheard of for literally anyone in the major cities to be poor enough to not have access to basic resources and small comforts. people don’t like to CONFRONT other people about each others’ business but tend to be pretty nosy lol. most people there live in close-knit neighborhoods in the city or in very close-knit villages, and also PHYSICALLY live close together, there is a lot of Space Sharing Behavior. friends and neighbors are often considered like extended family, so family gatherings are...huge. the ifrain are from this region initially so a TON of them live in lifas, but the population is ridiculously diverse, so basically if there’s a type of person you’re likely to meet them eventually in a city here.

malum is a largely agricultural economy with a lot of forested areas, and the majority of the people there don’t live in urban areas. they export a shitton of apples and apple wine, and have a very strong trade relationship and military alliance with ilfas. there’s a custom here where everybody wears skirts; men wear shorter skirts, and women wear knee-length or longer skirts, but wearing pants will immediately mark you as either foreign or a City Slicker. obnoxious artists from other countries love to move to malum to paint pastoral scenes and drink wine and laze around because it’s ~soooo quaint~ and basically everyone who grew up in malum finds it insufferable. the largest populations here are ifrain, humans and harpies, but it’s not weird to see other peoples living there either.

the eilege empire sucks. it’s a theocracy and there’s tons of poverty and it’s depressing. there is actively a revolution on the horizon and tensions are incredibly high. the land in the imperial core is like. imagine if england was more grey, and worse? like that. only women are allowed to take important positions in the government and clergy because they worship a goddess, and the crown saint is generally chosen because “the goddess picks her.” the goddess generally does not actually pick, there’s a bunch of political stuff that goes into it, but the clergy doesn’t tell anyone that. THIS time the goddess DID actually pick, and her choice was. very controversial, let’s say, or i’d be here all night. the population is pretty diverse but the stereotype is that it skews heavily toward ifrain and humans, with some veloci thrown in. there is the general view that “humans are better because the goddess favors them, and also ifrain are fine we guess.”

alphor is a very religious empire too, and it’s a monarchy. they’re unique in that misogyny exists there; it’s literally the only place in this universe where misogyny exists and it really confuses foreigners when they visit. alphor is on its way to industrializing. the current king, due to Unfortunate Circumstances, is like 14, so he’s got somebody else taking care of business for him right now. culturally they’re pretty uptight and a little “victorian.” there is definitely a sense of “only humans really belong here, fuck everyone else,” and the worst of this tends to get heaped on veloci and the part-human elves that live there. the population is a lot like ilfas’, though, it’s the biggest empire in the world and there are a LOT of varieties of people living there.

the kifin plains i am changing on the spot bc theres some aspects i am remembering im not big on. there’s a little of every population living there but MOST people in the plains are kifini (species). magic use is very culturally important up there and scholars of magic enjoy a lot of prestige. there’s a dry and rainy season in the north, and the rainy season is not very conducive to staying even in urban areas, so during the rainy season everybody kind of flocks south and there are whole other settlements built down south to accommodate this. some people live south year-round, too, but the south can be kind of dry comparatively, and unlike malum the land to the south isn’t super arable without a lot of rain. outsiders tend to consider the area more trouble than it’s worth to visit or attempt to invade because of the rain cycles and the need to move. kifini have a lot of cultural practices related to the dry and rain and the influences it has on their practice of magic, so not many like to leave the area for that reason, but there are still those that move around. also there’s a major taboo against touching hands or holding hands because of the magic culture there - your hands are important for casting magic, and to metaphorically mix magics with strangers via physical touch is ridiculously inappropriate and intimate, kind of like just full on making out. a common cultural faux pas for visitors is going in for a handshake.

there’s an “out of bounds” area in the harpy territory, which harpies who live there consider extra super ridiculously holy AND also like basically the chernobyl elephant’s foot, so they don’t let anybody so much as breathe at it or even ATTEMPT to go there. the whole area they occupy is what they consider a containment zone for that location and so the harpies who live there are generally EXTREMELY closed off to outsiders. their whole nation there is called “harpy territory” in part because nobody else can make bird noises and in part because nobody who lives there particularly wants to tell anybody anything. i mean, you wouldn’t either if your home country was Turbo Radioactive. aside from that, a lot for them is based on personal strength, but the definition of strength in harpy culture is malleable. as an example, trans people are VERY highly respected because of the strength of will and self-knowledge it’s seen as taking to determine your own gender in defiance of outside influence. community leaders tend to change frequently, because they challenge each other to contests of strength a lot. harpies are also TERRIFYINGLY good at picking up languages - they can learn a new language to near-fluency in a few days just by listening, and mimic native pronunciation very well bc they have a sort of lyrebird thing going on - so surprisingly despite the closed-ness of their culture the few harpies who do travel tend to bring languages back and introduce them to what is essentially an insane melting pot of every international language spoken at once. Good luck.

#fantasy ocverse infodump tag

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faithfulwarrior-og · 3 years

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Welp. Here’s a preview of a fic I’m working on because it’s 3am and I accidentally hit publish and I’m on my phone so I can’t just select the whole thing to make a new draft and delete this soooo... lol It is not going to make full sense im literally in the middle of working on it and am stupid and hit the wrong button lol

To anyone who reads this nonsense and would like to give me feedback for when I finish it, feel free♥️

Namaari started at the aggressive knocking that sounded at her door. The party had long ended. She snatched her dagger off her desk and hastened to the door.

Her brain stuttered upon opening it. “Raya? What’s wrong?”

The warrior of Heart looked terrible, and her emotions were very unguarded. Namaari watched as she seemed relieved to see her and yet afraid. She tried not to dwell on the awkward way Raya averted her gaze upon noticing that Namaari was wearing only her bindings and cotton trousers.

“I-I just... nothing. It’s nothing.” She shook her head and turned to go. “This is stupid, I...”

Namaari had never seen her like this. “Wait. Obviously something’s wrong.”

Raya sighed pointedly. She seemed to be debating with herself. “I had a dream... it’s—” her voice cracked, “you... I hurt you, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Namaari blinked.

Raya, the woman whose trust had been broken by Namaari over and over again, was checking on her?

Raya sniffed and shrugged her head toward the hallway. “I’ll go now, I just... wanted to make sure.” Her confident air faltered. “It... wasn’t a good dream.”

Namaari finally forced herself to do something other than spiral about why in the world Raya would give a second thought to her wellbeing.

Maybe it was for the same reason Namaari was worried about hers.

“Wait. Raya.” Namaari scratched the back of her head. Raya’s tired gaze followed her arm’s path, before returning to Namaari’s eyes. “Do you... want to come in? I’d feel better. You just don’t look too good, dep la.”

Raya scoffed in amusement, although her signature smirk didn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks a lot, binturi.”

Namaari smiled back, but it looked more like a grimace.

Raya took a step toward her, then hesitated. Namaari followed Raya’s gaze and realized she was still holding the dagger.

Namaari shook her head. “I’m sorry. Don’t,” she tossed the knife toward the small closet to the left, “mind that.”

“What was that for exactly?” Raya’s halfhearted smirk was back.

Namaari scowled. “You can’t expect me to answer the door at this hour without a weapon. And I’m sure you have one on you, so I don’t want to hear it.”

Raya smirked again, and this time it looked like she thought of something that she actually found funny. “You’re right. But if you want it, it’s in my pants.”

Namaari rolled her eyes as Raya walked past her into the room, ignoring as always the way that look from Raya made her feel. “Besides, I thought you were going to beat the door down,” she said, shutting the door, terrified all of a sudden to be alone with the Princess of Heart. She snatched her robe from her closet and put it on; she wasn’t sure where her belt was to keep it closed but, it was something.

Raya looked as sheepish as Namaari had ever seen her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Namaari shrugged a shoulder. “You didn’t. I was just,” she hesitated for a split second. “working.”

Raya glanced at the desk to see an old dragon legend unrolled on the desk. “You don’t have to hide that you’re a nerd. I already know.”

Namaari hated herself for blushing. “Okay, fine. I was reading dragon lore. Bite me.”

Raya was wearing that half-hearted smirk again. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Namaari felt a smirk of her own tug at the corner of her lips as she shook her head at Raya’s typical teasing.

“Although,” Raya added, “you are the one with the fangs.”

She leaned against the desk as she said it. Namaari saw the way her features twitched into a grimace, barely noticeable. Namaari noticed.

“If I’m being honest,” Namaari said. “I couldn’t sleep either.”

Raya nodded somberly. Namaari could see her better now that she was facing the candle alight on the desk. Sweat beads dotted her brow and a bruise on her jaw peaked out from behind her hair. She was trembling just slightly and Namaari’s chest constricted at the sight.

“You’re staring.”

Namaari looked down, clearing her throat and tucking her hair behind her ear. “Sorry, it’s just—”

A noticeable tremor rocked Raya’s frame.

Namaari stepped toward her, arms hesitantly outstretched. “Raya. What’s wrong.”

“N-nothing... I’m fine...” Raya trailed off and Namaari quickly scooped her up as her feet seemed to give out beneath her. The Fang princess carried Raya to the bed and laid her gently down, careful to support her neck.

Namaari placed the back of her hand on Raya’s forehead to feel that it was definitely warm. Warmer than it should be. Thankfully not to a concerning point.

But it was enough to set a sinking feeling in Namaari’s stomach. She wasn’t used to seeing Raya this way.

“Raya, you have a fever. I’m going to get your Ba.”

“No. No, I don’t..want to worry him.” She began to sit up. “I just need to sleep. I’ll be fine.”

Namaari’s hand on her collarbone had her frozen. She gently, but firmly, pushed her back down. “Oh no. You’re staying right here.” Namaari grimaced as she gently pushed her hair aside to reveal the nasty bruise on her left cheek.

Raya pulled away. “Quit it. I’m going back to my room.”

“Not alone you’re not. Raya, your Ba would want to know.”

“My Ba is still recovering himself,” Raya replied. “I don’t want him to worry. It isn’t as if I have never been sick before. This will pass.”

Namaari frowned. “I could get Sisudatu.”

Raya frowned. “Dragons, no. She’d freak out.”

Namaari sighed. “Then I guess I’m staying with you.”

Raya seemed to be sinking further into Namaari’s sheets as time went by, her eyelids bobbing from exhaustion. “Don’t be silly,” she murmured.

Namaari scoffed. “I’m not. I know I’m the last person you want looking after you, but if you won’t accept anyone else, I’ll have to do.”

Raya’s lips curled into her mischievous smirk. “You misunderstand, Princess. Why wouldn’t I want a strong, beautiful woman such as yourself looking after me? And in a robe, no less...” She made to coolly put her arms behind her head to complete her teasing, but winced and clutched her side instead.

Namaari shook her head and made to tend to Raya’s wound, willing herself not to tuck her hair behind her ear at Raya calling her beautiful. “You’re insufferable. What happened?”

Raya swatted her hand away as she made to expose Raya’s waist. “Excuse me! At least buy my a drink first...”

Namaari huffed. “Would you knock it off? I’m trying to help you!”

Raya sighed shakily. “I know you are. I appreciate it, really. I just—”

“That’s from me, isn’t it?” Namaari nodded toward her cheek.

Raya was silent for a moment, then nodded.

Namaari sighed deeply. “Please let me help, dep la. It’s the least I can do.”

Raya huffed a laugh, then seemed to regret it. “I don’t want your pity, Namaari. We’ve both given each other plenty of shiners over the years.”

#draft

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straymackerel · 4 years

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Can I please have headcanon for Dazai and Chuuya (separated of course) finding their so's old pictures that were clearly imperfect? So doesnt like past themselves Too chubby, bad style sense, acne and other unperfections. So is kinda ashamed about pictures and was hiding it all this time, but didnt thought them away cuz this is the last photos with their gone family? Exuse me my english, not native. You r cool! I like your writings very much 😊 okay if its not what u write just delete it❤

➽─{you guys are soooo polite! i just hope i’m interpreting this request right!}─❥

dazai osamu

• of course dazai deduces that you’re hiding something from him, but he doesn’t expect it to just be family photos.

• he’s very methodical in uncovering your secret and discovers it in no time.

• soon enough he finds the photos hidden in the middle of the biggest book you own–and everything clicks.

• mhm, he knows exactly why you’ve stuck them there.

• dazai, aware (but not fully understanding) of your struggle, thinks your insecurities are silly.

• like, what difference does some acne or a little chub make?

• nevertheless, he cooks up a plan to address your perceived flaws.

• he sits on the floor carefully examining each photo one by one, waiting for you to show up.

• when you walk in on him eventually, the book is wide open and the photos are splayed all around him. he doesn’t have to look up to visualize the horror written on your face.

• the insufferable super-genius picks up the photo he knows you hate most and nearly shoves it in your face.

• you’re completely unprepared for what he says next:

• “darling, what are these pictures doing in here?? they’re sooooo precious!”

• if you try to snatch it out of his hands, your reflexes are no match for his own reaction time. he pulls the photo close to his chest and gasps dramatically.

• “no fair! how could you deprive me of this adorableness!”

• he continues to fawn over as many photos as he can until you’re embarrassed beyond belief.

• “my goodness, you were an angel waaaay before i met you!”

• dazai knows his little stunt isn’t an instant cure to your humiliation, so he takes the initiative to add little sticky-notes to the back of each picture:

• i love you now, then, and always.

• you are a work of art.

• i like your tummy/thighs/chin/some body part you don’t like] in this one, it’s super cute!

• i love your body because it’s yours.

• etc etc. so you’ll never be able to look through the photos again without getting bombarded by reminders of his reassurance.

nakahara chuuya

• chuuya’s not as manipulative as dazai, nor as forceful about his opinions on your body.

• it goes down like this: one day he quietly wanders home lost in thought, pondering the sheep’s betrayal early on in his life.

• he’s so silent you don’t hear when he closes the front door and passes through the hallway.

• it’s when he walks into your shared room that he catches you holding your photos.

• you’re mortified as he runs to your side, panicking over your visible distress.

• “whoa, babe, what’s this? are you okay? your face is kind of pale.”

• chuuya stays silent as he lets you recount your personal shame.

• he nods and demonstrates concern as appropriate, gently touching your arm.

• each time you point out something wrong with a photo, he grimaces a little.

• he waits until everything’s out of your system to add his own perspective:

• “i understand. sometimes we can’t always be the ideal person we want to be. sometimes we look back and see all these flaws and imperfections we wish we could change... and just feel so embarrassed.”

• chuuya tells you all of this thinking about his own inability to be a proper leader when he tried to act as one in the past.

• but he doesn’t bring that up because this is about you, not him.

• “babe, i don’t mean to try and tell you how or what to feel, but i know damn well how i feel about this.“

• he wraps you in a tight embrace and cradles your head in one hand.

• “i know i can’t go back in time and prove it. i know that you can only take my word for it. but still—without hesitation—i’m sure of it.”

• “i’m sure that, even if i met you back then, i’d still fall in love with you. you are way more than your looks.”

• with that, he takes the photos from you and promises to return them soon.

• no more than an hour later, he does. the pictures are nearly organized in a beautiful, high-quality photo album with intricate scrollwork on its leather cover.

• handing the album over, he makes sure you understand that he accepts you as you are.

• his only hope is that you can accept yourself, too.

• when you thank him, he says that “it’s nothing...”

• “absolutely anything for my queen.”

#bsd imagines #chuuya imagine #dazai imagine #bsd headcanons #chuuya headcanons #bsd fanfic #dazai headcanons #bsd x reader #bsd hcs #dazai hcs

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kittyandco · 5 years

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4, 5, 6 for Hans! -jaklovemail

@jaklovemail ;o; thank you

4. What’s the silliest thing they’ve done to make you laugh?

He never does that stuff on purpose, necessarily... though taking from Anna, one time I was doing something and hit him in the face accidentally (this time) and that was funny. shrug

5. How does your f/o feel about pranks? Are they usually the one who enacts them or are they a victim of your/another fave’s pranks?

omg that just put the thought in my head... near the end of the movie when he finally gets arrested he just looks into the camera... “it’s just a prank bro” and i hate that so much

Anyway, I don’t know if he would like them necessarily. Like, people do want to get one over on him, and I think it’s happened before with terrible results (probably part of the humiliation he went through years ago but i’m not gonna get into it). So I would beg and beg like “yeah I know he was insufferable guys but please don’t it’s okay now” because I need to protect him at all costs.

6. Who’s most likely to wear an outrageous costume to a casual or formal event? Would you wear a matching costume or would you pretend you don’t know them for the rest of the event?

He’s always lookin’ extra and we would definitely wear matching outfits/costumes. I can’t pick which one to match with though because his coronation outfit and then that blue cape ensemble are soooo good. But depending on the event, yeah I’d pretend I didn’t know him and he’s just sitting there like “....................that’s my wife everyone. no i’m not making this up”

#asks #💕 love is an open door

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nayutai · 6 years

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Teach Me • 1

I’m soooo late.

The numbers on the clock next to my bed click over from 8:59 to 9:00 am as I dash around my room struggling into the first pieces of clothing I can get my hands on. I haphazardly rake my hands through my hair to wrestle my shoulder-length tresses into a bun. I quickly check to make sure that my school ID is in the wallet on the back of my phone so that I can get back into my building after class before I finally head out the door. I nearly kill myself flying down the stairs from my third floor apartment but I make it to the bottom in one piece by the grace of God. I hit the sidewalk at a steady jog. My Nike sneakers are finally being put to their intended use as I fight against the clock to get to class on time.

My Calculus class starts at 9:15 on the dot and Professor Kim lives to torment the stragglers who dare slip in once he’s started the lecture. The cocky bastard isn’t that much older than the students he’s teaching but you wouldn’t know that if you ever met the man. Apparently he’s some sort of genius with a freakishly high IQ so naturally he’s also an insufferable asshole. The only upside to him is his face. It’s beautiful and it makes me hate him all that much more. It would be so much easier to loathe his existence if he didn’t look like a GQ model.

A huff escapes my mouth as I jog across the campus, cursing myself for choosing to attend such a large school. I check the time on my phone to estimate just how late I’m about to be and it’s not looking good. The building is still at least 10 minutes away but class starts in four.

Nine and a half minutes later I crack the classroom door open as quietly as I can, catching the wide eye of more than one of my classmates. They’re all looking at me with fear in their eyes as they all know what’s about to happen when Professor Kim inevitably notices my tardiness. Thankfully, his back is to the class as I attempt to quickly tip toe to my seat in the back row.

“Ahh Ms. Aron! How nice of you to finally join us” I stiffen as he speaks, stopping next to the girl who sits in front of me. Fuck His words are laced with honey and pure malice. Slowly, I turn so that I’m facing. No one moves or says a word as we lock eyes, glaring at each other.

He is the first to look away and I celebrate a little with a smirk before turning to finally sit down but once again he stops my endeavors. The demon in black rimmed glasses summons time to the front of the class. I narrow my eyes at him, dropping my bag unceremoniously on the long desk of my precious back row. My seating choice is purposeful. Class participation is not my thing and the back row of the massive auditorium provides not only solitude as there aren’t enough people to fill up the massive room but it pretty much guarantees that no teacher will ever call on me to answer a question or participate in class discussions.

Grumbling the whole way, I stomp down the stairs till I’m face to face with my worst enemy. I’m so mad that I can’t even appreciate just how good looking he is this close. He nods at me with an evil smirk on his face before proceeding to write out a lengthy equation on the white board. If this problem was a person it would be a raging bitch. My eyes nearly pop out of my skull when he holds the marker out to me and tells me to solve it.

“Are you insane? This is INTRO to Calculus. That looks like actual rocket science!” I’m practically yelling by the time I finish speaking.

“I just figured that since you felt it was okay to be late to my class that you must be a master mathematician. Please Ms. Aron, impart some knowledge onto our unenlightened minds” he taunted as I fought to keep my breathing in check. This jackass really brought me all the way down here to embarrass me. “Nothing to say? Hmm maybe you’re not as smart as you think you are. You can take your seat now”

I am absolutely livid. My nails are dangerously close to slicing my palms open from how tightly balled my fists are. I vaguely hear Satan yelling after me to be on time next class as he clears the board of the mathematical monstrosity he had written.

Thoughts on how to slowly and brutally end his life flooded my mind to the point that I almost missed his dismissal of the class. I shove my notebook and pen into my bag and make my way to the door. This was my only class today as my International Business class was cancelled. Nothing awaited me on the other side of that classroom door but a large meat lover’s pizza and sweet, sweet freedom.

One foot made it across the threshold into the promised land when Professor Kim had the audacity to call my name yet again. I can’t suppress my frustrated groan as I step aside to allow the last few students to exit. God I envy them. The door clicks shut and I’m still facing the ugly beige wall next to the door as if I’ve been sentenced to time out.

“Are you just going to stare at the wall like a petulant child or are you actually going to act your age for once?” His annoyingly smooth voice sounded closer than it had previously when he told you to stay. I turned my head to the side to the side to scope out the situation and sure he enough he had propped himself up against the desk not too far from me. The way he had his arms crossed over his chest made his shirt stretch across his large frame in a way that I wish I hadn’t noticed.

“I am not a child” I stated as I once again turned to face the wall. He huffed and I can’t help but smirk at being able to get under his skin even a little bit. My victory is cut short by a massive hand wrapping around my forearm, forcing me to do a complete 180.

“Why do you insist on being so difficult?!” His eyes are wild as he growls his words out at me. A shiver of awareness washes over me. Even if I had wanted to respond I can’t. My jaw is slack with surprise and for once in my life I am truly at a loss for words. We’re practically chest to chest as he glares down at me. The scent of his cologne wraps around me like a protective blanket of pine and something else I can’t quite put my finger on. Before I can stop myself my eyes drift down to his lips which he licks as if he knows I’m staring. I move on down to his broad chest and toned arms unsuccessfully trying to avoid thoughts of what he’d look like without the black button up he’s wearing. My eyes skim even further down to rest on his hand which is still wrapped around my forearm. His eyes follow mine and he quickly releases me and I start to wonder if he had even realized he’d grabbed me in the first place.

He runs one of his hands through the dirty blonde hair that’s always flopped carelessly over his forehead, eyes closed as he backs away from me and takes a deep breath. When his eyes reappear the wild look is gone from his eyes and he is once again the man I am familiar with. I have yet to say a word as I continue to stare at him like a zoo animal.

He clears his throat and walks back to his desk. I’m still glued to the floor trying to process what just happened between us when he speaks once more. “Don’t be late again, Ms. Aron. I can assure you that the consequences for a second offense will be much worse than a little embarrassment in front of your peers.” He doesn’t even look at me as he issues his warning, completely focused on gathering his papers and various books.

My body once again becomes my own as I swiftly turn to exit. As the door clicks shut behind me, I finally become aware of my racing heartbeat. This can’t be real. What just happened can’t be real. I must be dreaming. Although dreaming of such a close encounter with Professor Kim doesn’t sound like something I’d do, one’s mind can play devilish tricks. I pinch myself as I move towards the building exit at the end of the now empty hallway, wincing as I realize that this is all very real.

When I finally return to my apartment, I find my roommate Collette sprawled across the couch munching on my pizza as she watched reruns of The Golden Girls. I open my mouth to yell at her for even daring to eat my pizza but she beats me to it, informing me that she’s already ordered me a replacement pizza with an order of cheesy bread to sweeten the pot. She’s a saint with horns.

“So just how late were you for Calculus?” She asks as she turns to me with a wide grin on her face. She took Professor Kim’s class last semester so she is all too aware of what happens to people who are late. I roll my eyes trying to ignore the goosebumps that break out along my arms. Collette and I have always been upfront and brutally honest with each other no matter what because that’s just the kind of people we are. It’s one of the reasons we get along so well so I have no problem venting about how Professor Kim pretty much called me stupid in front of the entire class but I intentionally leave out what happened afterwards.

“I told you to take Calculus with Patrickson but nooooo you just had to give that beautiful bastard a run for his money. Now look at you, mad and humiliated” she cackled out before heaving herself off of the couch presumably to go get my pizza from the delivery man. It’s times like these that I wish she had more of a filter because I for one am not in the mood to have my words thrown back in my face.

“Yeah, yeah whatever, Coco” I yell over my shoulder as she walks out of the door. I’ll never admit to her face that she’s right but dear God was she right. I don’t know how I’ll be able to face Professor Kim in Wednesday’s class. I know one thing for sure though. I won’t be late.

#bts namjoon #bts #bts fanfic #kim namjoon #rm #bts rm

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imagineclaireandjamie · 7 years

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Imagine if Jamie travelled through the stones, but instead of finding Claire in Boston he found himself having arrived years too early, when the War was still happening and Claire had yet to meet him... What would he do?

Notes from Mod Bonnie

Trying something a bit new as a palate-cleanser, lads and lasses!

Please do note that I am blissfully, unapologetically putting next-to-no effort into making this historically accurate. Soooo, if you’re in a military history/fact-checking/date-referencing mood… best take those efforts elsewhere ;D

Hope you enjoy!

The Last All-Clear

September 17, 1942: A Rusty Nail

C. E. B. Randall

Camp Nightwing, France

17 September

Daytime rotation today.

No new battle casualties & all quiet in the distance, thank God.

Did tend M. Danton (scored on the arm w/ rusted nail; antibiotics & sterile bandage to finish; strict instructions to report in 3 days for follow-up).

A strange sort, and no two ways about it.

“Claire—darling—dearest—You know how much I ADORE you, don’t you?”

I was already smirking—fondly, but smirking nonetheless—by the time I turned from restocking the supply cabinets for tomorrow. “How much do you adore me, Nance?”

“So much that I’ll do absolutely any of your chores—ALL your chores!!—for a week if you’ll go tend Danton??”

“Danton? The frenchman?” A glance revealed a familiar set of hunched shoulders (spilled over with filthy black hair) just visible through the cracked partition of the infirmary tent. “What’s happened to him?”

“Nothing serious. Says he got scraped by a nail or screw or something this morning and needs to be cleaned up a bit, but oh, please, Claire??” Nancy whined, grabbing both my hands in hers. “I know you were supposed to go off-duty at eight and it’s nine-thirty already but puh-LEASE will you take ten minutes before you go and be the one to tend him?? Please-please-pl—”

“Good Lord, no need to go into a tizzy about it,” I laughed, a bit taken aback by how truly distraught she seemed. “Surely the man doesn’t bite!” Though in truth, I didn’t know that for certain.

I’d never spoken to him, nor even so much as looked him in the eye, but Danton—was his first name even known?— was a legend in camp. He’d joined the company a month or two ago, they said, one of the men-of-all-work that alternately served as laborer, orderly, handyman, gravedigger, or any other role requiring a strong back. Though I’d always gotten the sense he was past his prime, from the state of his clothing and posture and hygiene, a strong back Danton did have, and whatever his age might be, he was indispensable. The camp always had to be ready to go into action, or even pick up and move entirely at a moment’s notice. In this chaotic wartime reality, with life and death so often on the line, a spare set of hands was always needful.

There were a dozen such men in camp, all of them civilian frenchmen, but Danton was the only one people seemed to talk about; which was quite the irony, given that he was a man of notoriously few words. He kept always to himself, speaking only when directly addressed, gruffly and shortly when he was, crossing the verge of sheer bad-temperedness more often than not. Rooms tended to shift to low whispers when Danton entered, if not empty entirely.

It didn’t seem to bother him. The entirety of my experience with the man consisted of glimpses from across the camp or mess-hall. Yet, even that barest of acquaintance was enough to have convinced me that the unsmiling, grubby Danton—with his hunched shoulders, with that profoundly-unkempt black hair and drooping cap that together hid his eyes—wished to be left alone.

My skin had prickled, though, whenever I had studied him, crawling with something I couldn’t quite put into words or even—

“He gives me the absolute heebie-jeebies!!” Nancy summarized neatly in a whisper. “I can’t do it, I just can’t! Anything you ask, Claire, and it’s done, but PLEASE be a brick and get me out of this??”

I would have agreed in any case—if for nothing more than to satisfy my own slightly-morbid curiosity— but I had absolutely no qualms over letting Nancy take my bedpan duties for a week out of the bargain.

….and surely the man DIDN’T bite?

“Monsieur Danton?”

He JUMPED as though shot, and I startled so violently (absurdly searching for elongated canines in the momentary panic) that I swore and dropped my tray, the bowl, cloth, and other impedimenta clattering and scattering all over the floor with great metallic crashes.

I was utterly mortified, positively dove to my hands and knees to gather the scattered supplies and hide my face, and then the sensation doubled to realize that the frenchman was on the ground beside me. I had only enough time to notice the juxtaposition of the fine leather glove on his left hand with the wretched filth of his clothing before he was placing the last item on the tray. “Thank you,” I mumbled awkwardly, glancing up to smile in thanks, and caught a momentary glimpse of vivid blue eyes before he recoiled, leaping to his feet and busying himself with getting the tray on the table.

Shy, whatever else he might be.

“Well, we’re off to a bumpy start, sol—Sir,” I managed with a weak laugh as I got to my feet, throwing myself fully into that ‘jovial commanding-officer’ character that had weathered many an awkward encounter in my career to-date. My usual script felt a little bereft without the useful address of ’soldier.’ “I’m Nurse Randall,” I said more briskly, clearing my throat with a smile. “I’m told you need medical attention for your arm?”

He rolled up his sleeve without so much as a word. Very well, down to busin—

“Good LORD!” I gasped, stepping forward and reaching for the arm, then pushing him down into the chair. Not merely a scrape: it was a slash, a wicked, deep one, about two inches long, just below the right elbow. “This needs stitches! What the bloody hell happened?”

No answer.

Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I said more kindly in French, “Monsieur, will you tell me what happened to your arm?”

No nod. No grunt. The brute didn’t bother even to raise his chin from his chest.

No language barrier, then: just an arse.

I reached for the antiseptic, my nostrils flaring. “Will you look at the state of this?” The blood had long since clotted, but the wound clearly hadn’t been washed, let alone sterilized. “Why in God’s name didn’t you come and get help for it right away?”

Silence.

“Excuse me, I am TALKING to you,” I snapped, choosing to stick with French for castigation as I prepared the suturing supplies. “Why didn’t you bother coming for help unt—?”

“Do what’s-must to prevent the festering and I’ll be going, yes?” he snapped back with such venom that I would have gasped if I weren’t so grounded in pique.

So: he was both capable of speech and every bit as ill-tempered for it. Lord, give me the strength not to SLAP this man. I bit my tongue and cleansed the wound in icy silence.

“Far from home?” I blurted testily, when the tension became too insufferable even for me.

His head snapped up.

“Your accent,” I clarified as I reached for a clean cloth, genuinely curious despite my ire, “—your syntax. It’s not a standard dialect…nor like the other frenchmen in camp, I think?”

“No.”

I had about an ounce of pleasantness left in me and I scraped it up to force a smile. “Grow up in the country, eh?”

“Yes.”

“…Care to share where?”

“No.”

“Well, you’re just a blooming basket of violet-scented rainbows, aren’t you?” I snapped in English. “Hold bloody still, this will hurt and you’ll deserve every blasted bit of it.” I gritted my teeth and swore under my breath as I began stitching, in absolutely no mood for grumpy man-children. “Jesus H. Roosevelt CHRIST.”

By complete chance, standing bent over his arm as I began to stitch, I happened to be looking down at his mouth as I said it. To my absolute gobsmacked surprise, I saw a smile twitching at the corners, small and restrained, as though he were trying very much not to show it, but clear as day: a tiny smile verging on a grin.

Well…! Not a *complete* automaton, then.

I was taken still further aback when the mouth opened and said quietly in French without looking up, “Forgive me, please, Madame. I do not mean you ill.” The tone told me he was being genuine. “It is only that I do not very much like—speaking.”

“It’s good to work at things you don’t like doing,” I said, fixing what I could see of his face with a sardonic glare between stitches, but trying not to smile. “Builds character.”

Another infinitesimal twitch of the lips before he dropped his head, strings of wavy black hair hiding his features entirely. “It is—a small bit more easy to manage, in French.”

“We’ll stick with the Français then,” I said, letting a smile show in my voice.

I finished the stitching and sterilization in a more comfortable silence. He took the hypodermic needle without so much as a wince, though I could see him watching it intently, sternly almost, as though not entirely sure what to make of it. From the country, indeed.

“You’re so much younger than I would have supposed.”

“…I beg your pardon, Madame?”

I could hardly fault him for being taken aback, as I had blurted it with absolutely no thought for context, let alone grace. I recovered as best I could, all things considered, focusing over-intently on wrapping the bandage around his forearm. “From a distance, I had assumed you to be far older.”

Honestly, for a man with such a beard and posture, that default manner that could charitably be described as cantankerous, it was alarming to find that not only was he not middle-aged, but he couldn’t possibly be older than—

“Thirty? At most?”

“Thereabouts.” After a pause, he added with a shrug. “I am far older in spirit, Madame.”

I made him promise to come see me in a few days so I could see how the healing was progressing and give him more antibiotic if need be. He nodded, then stood and shrugged back into his coat (Lord, was he huge), and was just beginning to move toward the doorway, when—

“Are you well-treated here, M. Danton?” Why could I not keep my bloody mouth shut tonight??

“Why is it that you ask such a question of me, Madame?” Though I still could barely see his face through the hair, I could hear the wariness in his voice.

“You just seem…” I struggled to find the word in French, to express my concern without giving offense. “…..hunted.”

Yes, a beast at bay. That’s what I had discerned and yet been unable to name in those vague, distant glances across camp: the utter wrongness in the sight of a man so tall and strong keeping his head low, avoiding eye contact, as though cowering before an invisible blow. Then there was this slash to the arm…

He caught me looking at the bandage, so I summoned my courage enough to ask directly, “Is someone bothering you? Hurting you?”

“No.” He relaxed, and I saw his throat muscles working. “No, it truly was a rusted nail; an accident, entirely my own.” He inclined his head in acknowledgment of the first statement. “And my manners and ways are mine as well, Madame. Of my own choosing, I mean to say. Better, it is, that I keep to myself.”

There was nothing morose in the way he said it, nothing maudlin or self-pitying.

….but it still was so very sad.

“Nonetheless,” he added quite suddenly, one hand on the tent flap, “I thank you for having asked.” He gave a graceful bow and said in heavily-accented English before vanishing off into the night: “You ‘ave a kind ‘eart, Nurse Randall.”

Strange, yes. But not as bad as all that.

-CEBR

5 1 9

Ye touched me, today, mo nighean donn.

Spoke to me. Looked at me. Stopped my beating heart.

You were supposed to go off-duty at eight. I let that damned wound go untended all the day because I was waiting for when I kent you’d be away and abed. I couldn’t take the chance of it being you. God above knows I meant for us never once to come face-to-face in this camp.

More than a year since I ran up the hill after ye and the world went black; more than a year of trying to find my way in your world; of trying to find you; these last months of staying hidden in plain sight that ye never should see my face…. All undone by a rusted nail and your damned heedless self working at all hours instead of taking to your damned bed. And yet…. ye always did see fit to undermine my plans, my wife. Mo ghraidh.

….Lord, and you’re so young, Sorcha; so heartbreakingly young, and it makes me want to weep. And yet I weep still more to have witnessed with my own eyes and ears that you’re exactly the same. Even now, at three-and-twenty, you’ve the same fire that I myself have known in you, that same brilliance and compassion and—

Jesus.

Oh, God, Claire.

From a distance, keeping to my duties, I have been able to separate myself from it all; keep myself and my thoughts in check by mere will, knowing that it is my place only to watch over you, never in any circumstance to know you or seek you out. But so close to ye today, mo chridhe, SO CLOSE with you touching me, that deepest part of yourself reaching out to heal and care for me, even in disguise, even though ye dinna yet know me— It took all my strength not to take ye in my arms and crush you to my heart.

I long for you, mo nighean donn. I long for my wife; to hold ye again; to speak all my heart to ye. My truest friend.

And yet, beyond longing, there is that uttermost of terrors that fills me day and night.

I wait for this war to end—this war of unspeakable horrors, the like of which I could never have fathomed—and still I dread the sounding of that last all-clear. At least here, now (and for three years more, at the least) I have a place in your world. I can watch over ye, see your face each and every day, if only for a moment from afar, and be able to close my eyes at night only because I ken that you are safe.

But when the fighting has ceased, when ye leave France, I shall have to bid you yet another farewell….silently, this time, unseen….and hope that in April of 1948—

…Pray with all my soul that you and the bairn make it to April of 1948.

That you won’t be— That you haven’t already been—? or that you aren’t now—?

Lost among the years. As I have been.

#;mod bonnie #The Last All-Clear #...so what if I can't name AUs without songs or poems...sue me

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gimmemorespirk · 6 years

Note

Star Trek ask meme: 6, 8, 12, 27 (~james-tiberius-perfect-face)

Another Star Trek ask that’s a bit late from @james-tiberius-perfect-face . Thank you for asking! 👍😁 For all of these, I’m gonna keep it to my fave, TOS, to make things easier, or I’d still be thinking about the answers, lol

6. Your least favourite episode?

Plato’s Stepchildren. Like, it creeps me tf out. The loss of consent of for Jim and Spock (both of them multiple freaking times) and then add Uhura and Chapel, and just…when they go to get the whip/hot poker and I was just like: WTF IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW??? MAKE IT STOP. Yeah, that one.

8. Best one liner?

In “Friday’s Child” when the baby gets named Leonard James Akaar, and Jim asks Spock what he thinks, he replies: “I think you’re both going to be insufferably pleased with yourselves for at least a month. Sir.” I don’t particularly like this episode, but that line makes the whole dang thing worth it. Spock’s reaction is just freaking priceless.

12. Best Starfleet uniforms?

The dress uniforms. OMFG. Like jfcsjaklsja. The triumvirate looks soooooo damn good in them. I cannot handle it. PS: if it hadn’t said Starfleet uniforms, the mirrorverse uniforms would’ve totally been in the running. 😁

27. Which character deserved better?

I’m gonna pick two: Number One and M'Benga.

Number One: for soooo many reasons. I mean. I can only imagine what Trek would’ve looked like with a strong female character being second in command. I know it would’ve cost us Chapel, but Number One sure as hell deserved better.

M'Benga: How cool would it have been to get further insight into Vulcan biology/anatomy and culture from someone who was there? I mean, the only reason we have Spock coming out of the healing trance is because M'Benga was there to know what to do. And although I love the episode ‘Journey to Babel,’ it always bothered me that M'Benga wasn’t there to to perform the surgery. McCoy is flying blind really. I was always disappointed they didn’t use M'Benga more, not only as a another POC and a competent doctor in his own right, but as a further gateway to explore Spock’s alienness.

#ask meme #asks #gimmemore speaks #James-Tiberius-perfect-face #Star Trek ask

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survivekohsai · 7 years

Text

Episode 3 - These Little Binches Keep Going To Exile And Mutinying!!!!!!!! ~ Richie

I am legit FUCKING PISSED!!! I LOST TWO ALLIES THAT WERE GOOD FOR MY GAME. 4 PEOPLE DID TYLER, I GOT LIED TOO BY A MAJORITY OF THEM!!!! BECAUSE JACKSON SAID 5 (ME, himself, Linus, Mo and QUILL) but Kelsey said so as well so which is 6. SO SOMEONE IS FUCKING LYING TO ME!!! AND I AM LEGIT PISSED OFF TO THE EXTENT IF THESE BITCHES WANNA PLAY CUTTHROAT ILL CUTTHROAT BACK NOW

I am so alone in this game.... like FOR REALS! I can't trust anyone in this game! Like everyone is a liar and a backstabber.... like can't anyone tell me the truth for once!!!! I put my trust and people used that against me! I am cutting the loose ends and going ham on challenges now. I DARE THE OTHER TRIBE TO PICK TYLER AGAIN I DARE THEM!!!

I'm so pissed and sad.. like why can't anything go the way it is planned! I just really want this game to be fucking over give Tyler his unanimous win you stupid premade bitches.

There's simply too much to talk about! Again i single handedly took someone out!! I really liked Mo, it's a shame he came at me in the main chat that was his downfall... dont come for me :D Now i asked why i was voted for and Mr Jackson came at me calling me bitter and personally attacking my which was fun. I could only laugh because i wasnt bitter i think he was just upset that he is an absolute failure and failed to get me out twice in a row :( Also apparently i make the tribe chat 'insufferable' which is soooo unfortunate. :D

That tribal was ugly. Mo leaving is not a cute concept and Tyler finding an idol on exile was like... wow. However, not my tribe, not my problem. Right now I want to focus on winning the reward again. I want to send myself to exile as a sort of retribution for RTP. Maybe it'll work, maybe it won't. I know that with my idol, however, I will get through a tribal. Plus, the puzzle is a mood and I think we'll get a good time on it.

forgot to mention this but jordan mutinying is so iconic lol. idk why he did it but i love the drama. what i dont love however is tyler idoling out mo. i wanted to work with mo come swap or merge but now i cant. also raf's dislike of tyler enabled him to go to exile twice where he found the idol so thats annoying. also i think theres tension between raf and rtp/ry so idk whats that about. so far i like working with richie, raf, trixie kind of but she seems cracked, and rtp. but idk if thats a group that could actually come together. i wont have to worry about it until we lose a challenge i guess tho!

Good golly, Miss Molly. Everybody makes choices...and people have CHOSEN. So going into the tribal, I had my heart set on voting Linus. In the case that three million people played idols again, if I threw my vote, I didn't have to play my own, therefore keeping myself in another day. But, I then paid attention to a chat consisting of Tyler, Isaac and Linus. Tyler wanted to vote for Mo and mentally I was thinking "LOL no you bottom bye" because I really didn't want to be taking such a strong side, especially one so brittle as Tyler's. Not to mention Jordan, who I thought would be my automatic lover, has definitely NOT contacted me about much in this game and it made me shifty. However...I got to thinking. I thought to myself, "Kelsey, who are you?" And the answer was "I am Kelsey Valentana Mikaelson, I'm a cutthroat queen who slashes throats and wears ugg boots." And I realized that if I indeed voted for Linus and didn't take a side, I'd be right up there with the people who always vote me out just for being an "easy vote." That's when I said to myself "Ok Kelsey...screw it, you want Tyler in this game, do something about it." I decided then that hey, even if I vote in minority, girl, does anyone REALLY expect anything different out of a controversial gal like me~? So I changed my vote. About...one minute before deadline, but still, I DID IT and I decided to have no regrets. And then....the GAG. First of all, Tyler apparently told no one, not even Jordan, that he had an idol which I don't believe. But then...Mo goes home...! It was really tragic as well, cause I had JUST told Mo he's not going anywhere. But regardless; the vote is revealed that someone voted Linus. I immediately know it's me. However...following Mo's elimination, it opens up a door. Jackson and Tyler are OBVIOUSLY warring sides now. Both of them are boiling hot personalities and it's oil vs water, gurl, it's split the tribe in two. I've told Jackson's side I was the vote for Linus to avoid an idol massacre. And that's true, I did vote Linus and the hosts can confirm. However, I can also tell Tyler's side that I voted for Mo without knowing about the idol, showing I'm willing to take that leap of faith for them. And if they ask the hosts, that is also true. This has given me the opportunity to be a swing vote for BOTH sides and...if I so wanted...I think that really choose who goes next? It's kinda weird to think that I have like...power, cause it NEVER HAPPENS LOL but...I'm just going to plug ALL my effort into this next challenge. The longer I stay in this position without having to make a move, the better. I just really really really REALLY hope it stays this swell forever! And...no one realizes what happened X'D And THAT'S all there is to it~! Vamos, bailar! -Kelsey V Mikaelson

i wanna die just a lil bit

im mutinying!!!!!! *janelle voice* bye bye bitches!!!

okay so! im back in the game FOLKS. on my old tribe im leaving behind Chelsea and RTP who although I wanted to work with them I was way too inactive... oh well. That Rafael guy was sweet. But on exile I got to seriously bond with Akito. I helped her with the puzzles (even though the reward is already gone since Tyler got it, and all i got to know is that THEY DON'T REPLACE IT). But I get an ally! finally! And she's telling me all this stuff about her tribe and how Tyler and Jordan M are beefing people. blah blah. I didn't really follow or understand what the dynmaics are like there. But I can tell Quillynn and Jackson that Chelsea and I worked well together and maybe work with them. Akito said that they're together. And Kelsey is in the middle? Since I'm mutiny'ing I can use this as a fresh start! Maybe I won't have to use my idol the first tribal I go to. But I probably should lol. The second I get to this new tribe (even if we lose which we probably will) I'm gonna go 100% social.

hi im dumb i dont know what the challenge is but i will go look and do that! furby out~~~

I dislike Casanova. I hate that game too much to even try and attempt, but eh. This tribe needs some clipping tbqh.

do people like know others on the other tribe and feel confident or something. why mutiny off the winning tribe idgi. But go us!! Regan and richie are good at everything i want t align with them!

We stan Regan!

my entire tribe needs to realize that Im the most iconic person here and people leave because they hate me like anyone who knows me hates me. I can be annoying. ryan and jordan both left because Im annoying-

I'm going to get out all the people who decided it would be smart it mutiny.

I HATE THIS TRIBEEEEEE LIKE CAN WE WIN A GAME FOR ONCE IN OUR LIFE TIME?!?!?! AND CAN TRIBES SPLIT AT 5 v 5 v 5 please?!?!?!?

I hate that this tribe can't win anything but it's better than being told what to do by regan and trixie. God if I had to deal with them for one more round I was gonna scream into the void and never come out of it.

Sorry for being such a lame duck in this game hostos

Hi I'm Jackson and this is my third confessional. Obviously the elephant in the room is my fight with Tyler, he's kind of arrogant and obnoxious so I don't really regret it. I still want him out and even though I told him we're voting Isaac I still think he has to go this time since he couldn't possibly have another (if I go home cause of that tho I'll be glad, fuck idols) But anyway I'm kinda high and I don't have much to say, we lost the challenge because we suck, no I actually don't care about challenge strength, yes I am okay continuing to lose The alliance of me, Kelsey, Quillynn, Linus and Akito will hopefully stand together even though we're back to being a tribe of 9 (Ryan is here wtf he prob doesn't trust me I tried to vote him out a million times in Kvaloya) Ok bye I hate this

we won again :D but these little binches keep going to exile and mutinying!!!!!!!! i don’t get it….. like okay yeah this tribe is probably terrible or maybe its just me because its like day…..10 and i still haven’t had a single conversation with anyone on this tribe but we haven’t lost a single challenge either reward or immunity yet so like I’m cool with being on this tribe…. what annoys me is that now we’re down in numbers despite winning everything????? RUDE

so this game has been pretty quiet for me...people keep mutinying from my tribe but we keep winning....ryan and jordan are dumb huh....otherwise no one talks to me at all..im hoping to just be the crummudgeony gramps this season

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