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shortnotsweet · 5 months

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In a Week by Hozier ft. Karen Cowley

“The raven is death, obviously. When I die, I want a good tombstone—something right spooky. LT’s got something against the underground, though you’d think that would be just his kind of place. That’s alright. He needs to, he can cremate me. It’s not exactly Catholic, and Mam would turn in her grave, but God is a unicorn and no one is pure anymore, so. What’s all that got to do with me?”

Johnny “Soap” McTavish has a journal. Had. It is his no longer.

Simon “Ghost” Riley had dreams—awful ones, the kind that sank claws into his lungs, dragged him into sleep, and then sent him careening out of it. He still has dreams, but they’re different, now. Better. Johnny’s pages have folded themselves under his eyes and gotten into his head, brighter and more infectious than anything else has ever been. It’s more than the past, that rotting carcass behind him, and more than now. Now is nothing. Now is ash. It’s like, it’s like—blinding, is what it is. He’s a blind man.

It is biblical now. Ghost has read it backward and forward and sideways and inside out. When he runs out of things to read, he reads them again, and when that is not enough, he reads between the lines.

#ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #soap x ghost #ghoap #call of duty #cod mw3 #my art #ghost is obsessed with soaps journal bc it breaks his heart at first like really tears it apart but soon focuses on what soap has written #about him. words of admiration and envy and love and fondness. real fondness. jokes made for him thoughts about him musings etc.#and johnnys snippets about his family and how he wants to settle down eventually #then all simon can think about is what life they could’ve lived together after the ‘war’#nevermind that there will always be war be death be blood and love is there and it matters but it changes nothing #for simon there will always be johnny #who even knows if thats what soap wanted if he loved him back if ghost even remembers him as he was instead of what he wishes he could have #become to ghost if things had gone as they should. who knows. the dead dont sing dont speak. all thats left is what they wrote #the cigarettes refer to soaps smoking habit and how ghost disapproves like a nagging wife. the ash smudges and burns in the paper allude to #ghost deciding to have soap cremated as a spouse decides post mortem due to his own aversion to being underground bc he doesn’t want soap #to be nothing but a decomposing body. he couldn’t bear that. he couldn’t bury him alive or dead so burning it is

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lloydfrontera · 1 month

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i'm about to be a bitch about alloyd so like. skip ahead if you're not into that ig.

the thing thats grinds me the most about alloyd is that,, we've seen lloyd plan out living the rest of his life at someone's side. we've seen him actively wish to spend the rest of eternity with someone. we've seen him think what sounds suspiciously like marriage vows about someone.

i am not joking or exaggerating here are the quotes:

That’s why, you bastard. I’m going to take care of you until the very end. Once I, your wise and older friend, solve the restoration of destiny problem, you’re going to enjoy the rest of your life by my side in peace. [...] He smiled at Javier and thought to himself. You’re my only friend, Javier. I couldn’t have overcome all the obstacles in front of me without your help. So, my trustworthy and reliable comrade, stick with me until I become a lazy lord and you become my personal guard. I hope we will be able to grow old together… -ch 327

Lloyd felt reassured by Javier's presence as he gazed at him. He could not have gotten this far without the knight. Therefore, he did not want to lose Javier and hoped they would keep bickering with each other for eternity. -ch 361

He thought he'd always be with Javier for the rest of his life. Just like now, he thought they'd spend all their time together moving forward. And like they always did, they'd be by each other's side during hard times. Happy moments. Relaxed days. They'd share all these moments as they exchanged insults and corny jokes, growing old as a lazy lord of a fiefdom and his knight. Lloyd always thought so. The thought just came naturally, without much effort from him, much like breathing. Lloyd believed that Javier would always remain by his side as that was how it had been until now. -ch 222

and at no point in any of those occasions has he ever sounded remotely afraid, threatened or uncomfortable with the idea.

so how come he is all of that when it comes to the idea of marrying what is supposed to be his canon love interest? like???

This is bad. Really bad. Terrible feelings struck his gut. Lloyd's lifelong wish was to find a rather ordinary woman to fall in love with, before getting married and having kids with her to lead an unremarkable family life. This was the extent of the luxury he had always dreamed of, not the frantic romance with the mightiest queen in the entire continent. I can see and feel it. I can sense it. This isn't good. Lloyd could see himself in the queen's pockets, like a scaredy cat in the presence of a ferocious lioness. -ch 390

Lloyd became speechless, even though he desperately wanted to call it an absolute abuse of power, tyranny, and dictatorship. But I'm kind of excited and glad... except what kind of marriage proposal is this threatening...?! But Lloyd couldn't bring it out in words, as his queen had already taken him by his hand. It was rough, yet warm. He could feel every heartbeat that was clearly pounding faster than usual. Ugh. There goes my dream of ordinary living. Lloyd quickly wiped off the tear that was about to fall from his eyes at the thought of the frightening romance. -ch 393

does this sound like someone in love???? like?? genuinely?? is this really what the main character should feel about his love interest???

i'm not even saying that the way lloyd feels about javier is inherently romantic, him feeling perfectly comfortable and hopeful about spending the rest of their life together is perfectly explicable by their close friendship.

but why make your protagonist sound so terrified of the idea of marrying what is supposed to be the love of his life?? when you never did that when writing about his other close relationship??

it's just. it's frustrating. to me lmao

#i talk a lot <3 #tged #the greatest estate developer #lloyd frontera #alicia magentano #anti alloyd #<- i hate having an anti tag but i think i should start tagging my critical posts because. i'm being very mean about it ajkshjkdsf #anyway. how insane is it that bk moon wrote the perfect romance by accident and didn't realize because he wrote it for two male characters #it grates in my bones whenever he writes characters being afraid of their wives #like. god. whenever he mentions wives nagging i feel murderous.#the only exception is maybe berkis. who actually loves when his wife nags at him. and deliberately does stuff that will make her nag.#but even that is on thin ice

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andypantsx3 · 2 months

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If you were to do a story where the reader dates Shouto and someone else, who would you like to pair up with him?

Like a poly situation?? One million percent Shouto x Reader x Bakugou. I am such an unhinged little TodoBaku shipper you have no idea. I love their canon dynamic so much, love that Shouto is like the funniest foil to Bakugou with how unperturbed he is by him.

I think the two of them arguing over you, even though you're all going to end up together in the end, would be the funniest fic ever.

#I especially love the thought of Bakugou nagging Shouto like a stereotypical sitcom wife and Shouto sitting there unfussed with it all #and us just watching our boyfriends rile each other up :3 #ask andie

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sarafangirlart · 1 month

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Given how much of a dick he can be, I am surprised there isn't an adaptation with apollo as the main villain.

There is so much potential to make him a morally complex charming villain the only time I saw it being done is with “Arion” anime movie

#like ppl love morally gray hot villains so there is so much untapped potential in Apollo #there are tons of myths where Apollo is a genuinely decent guy #that dichotomy would be interesting to explore #but then Hera also has that same potential as a villain but writers can’t think of her past the nagging wife #greek mythology #ancient greek mythology #Apollo #apollo greek mythology #apollo greek god #apollo god #apollon #Arion #Arion anime #Bishōnen

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heaven-dope · 2 months

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its so crazy how popular labru is now like i remember going through the tags and all i saw was kabumisu (this is a good ship. it is excellent, even - just seeing an influx of labru is crazy and a pleasant surprise for me)

i think kabru and laios are both freaks and nobody is wrong to be highlighting this because it is hysterical. but im also like 🥺 i love looking at their growing friendship and how kabru wanted to be laios's friend to understand him and theyre finally getting that!! foils meeting in the middle and appreciating the other!!

#SORRY FOR BEING CRINGE.................#i just also like the sweet side of labru a lot but a lot of content is kabru being a nagging wife (which is funny sometimes) but yknow...#SORRY IF YOURE SOME RANDO SEEING THIS IN THE TAGS BECAUSE OF THE KEYWORDS im just musing outloud to myself...#text tag #dungeon meshi spoilers

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rad-roche · 9 months

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the movie is 90 years old but i know deep in my heart that smash hit 1930s comedy the thin man would do absolute fucking numbers on tumblr dot com if it took off. it's got it all. a ludicrously wealthy woman and her kept handbag man of an older husband who solves crimes mostly for her amusement. they bicker relentlessly. it's pre-code so the sexual chemistry in it is near-derangement levels of horny. nora charles is in it.

#text post #i should do art...#the later ones sort of turn nora into the nagging wife bit but in the first one she is a firecracker i LOVE nora charles #please watch smash hit 1930s comedy the thin man. i am dying to talk about 1930s comedy the thin man #their teasing in it is SO charming it's just on the absolute cusp of too mean but never goes that far #like it's vicious at points but only sells how much nick and nora love each other. love that

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theygotlost · 11 months

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um so. here it is 👉👈 I've never written a fanfic before let alone posted one so I'm shy please be nice to me 😭

Son of Sam

After little Sammy has a disciplinary incident at school, Vimes finds a more enriching environment for his son.

G rated, 2,011 words, just vimes bein a dad :)

A rather nervous-looking young messenger was waiting at the door when Vimes got home.

“Er… Can I help you?”

The messenger startled into a stiff salute. “Your grace!” he said smartly. “I bring a message from the Primary Academy of Ankh! It has been requested that… erm…” he fumbled open the roll of parchment he had been holding. “The parents-slash-guardians of the student, er, Samuel Ramkin Vimes II, come to the office of the headmistress at once. We have a coach ready outside for you already, your grace,” he added as he rolled the parchment back up.

Vimes scoffed. ‘The Second’… Please. A title like that nearly made you forget the boy’s only eight years old. “Alright, what’s happened this time?”

“I don’t know, your grace. I’m only here to deliver the message.”

“Fine. And you really want both of us?” said Vimes, already making his way around the side of the house. “Sybillllll?” he called, in that sing-song voice used by all husbands everywhere looking for their wives.

He heard the explosion before he had even turned the corner. The backyard filled with a sharp, acrid, chemical smell that nearly would have made him retch if he wasn’t so accustomed to it already. He sighed at the charred black rosette that now decorated the lawn. Beyond it, in a wider blast radius, were… other bits of things.

A bulky figure nearly six and a half feet tall emerged from the dragon pen, decked head to toe in leather armor. “Oh dear, and he had nearly recovered from his case of slab throat…” she mumbled from behind her welding mask. She ducked back into the dragon pen for the shovel, too distracted to notice her husband on the periphery of the yard.

Vimes strode directly toward the carriage out front. “She’s busy. I’ll go by myself,” he said decisively to the messenger as he brushed past. The messenger considered protesting, but thought the better of it.

—

Vimes was ushered into a room half the size but almost as austere as the Oblong Office. Little Sam pouted in an adult-sized chair, grumpily swinging his legs back and forth. Vimes knew that look: the boy was in trouble for something. Sulking in the other chair with a bandaged nose was a boy who appeared the same age, though bigger-boned. Both of his parents were doting over him like a pair of storks brooding a rather large, and rather spoiled, egg. Vimes had been forced to socialize with these people at many a banquet or some such event, or at least this type of people, if not this particular couple. They all blended together in his mind anyway. He had yet to have a conversation with one of them that ended satisfactorily for both parties.

The headmistress greeted him primly from behind her desk and motioned for him to sit in the chair beside his son. “Thank you for coming, your grace. Her ladyship…”

“Couldn’t make it,” Vimes responded curtly. He swore he heard the other boy’s mother exhale derisively through her nose.

“I have called you here,” the headmistress continued, “because your Samuel has gotten into an… altercation with his classmate.” She spoke as though she were handling her words like a very fragile, very expensive heirloom vase.

Vimes turned to little Sam. “You got into a fight?” he asked, more conversationally than disapprovingly.

“I should hardly call that a fair fight!” the other boy’s father interjected. “It took two teachers to pull your little devil off our Thomas! He nearly bit his nose off!” Thomas began to whimper, and his mother cradled him in her arms while staring daggers at Vimes.

Vimes raised his eyebrows as he sized up the victim. He was taller and stockier than his attacker, but apparently that hadn’t helped him much. He turned back to his son, still without any trace of anger. “Why’d you do that, Sammy?”

“It doesn’t matter why he—” Thomas’s father began, but the headmistress held up a hand. “Let him answer,” she commanded.

“He took my spelling sheets from my homework daddy, ‘n he said that my daddy’s nuthin’ but a dirty scoundrel, said I’m ruinin’ the school ‘cause I’m dirty ‘n dumb like him, ‘n then he ripped all my papers up,” little Sam explained sullenly. Thomas whimpered again.

Vimes looked up to meet the father’s eyes with hawklike focus. “He really said that, did he? I wonder where he could have possibly gotten that idea from.”

The father’s features bubbled with the kind of indignation reserved for those who have just been accused of something they actually did. “Slander!” he blurted. “Not only is your son an aggressor, but a liar as well!”

The duke of Ankh stood up. “You’re calling my son a liar, is that it?” he nearly snarled the words.

“You grace—” the headmistress began.

“No, go on,” Vimes continued. “You think Sammy made up that little story, just to make you look bad? Your precious little Thomas would never have done something like that, oh no, because you’ve raised him properly, haven’t you?” He was practically toe to toe with the boy’s father now. He squared his shoulders and drew himself up to his full height, which unfortunately was still shorter than his opponent. He cracked a few menacing knuckles.

“Daddy, mama said you’re not s’posed to fight the other grownups at school anymore,” Sammy whined from his seat.

“I won’t be threatened by the likes of you,” the man spat. He leveled a self-important finger at VImes’s nose. “I won’t tolerate it. You and your son both owe us an apology for the injuries you have caused.”

“Oh, I’ll give you some injuries to apologize for, all right.”

The bureaucratic voice of the headmistress pierced through his haze of bloodlust like a letter opener. “Your grace, that is enough. To prevent another incident like this, you need to set a good example for your son. Children learn by imitating their parents.”

“Yes, I’m sure they do,” Vimes said pointedly without breaking eye contact with the nobleman. He took his son’s hand and led him out the door. “Come on, Sammy. We’re going home.”

“This isn’t over, Sir Samuel!” he heard the father call after him. “Her ladyship will be hearing of this, and she will not be pleased!”

Don’t I know it, Vimes thought.

—

Lady Sybil was, as predicted, not very pleased. “First I have to lay poor Lord Sharptalon Brightspark Blazeworthy VI to rest this afternoon, and now I hear both of you have gotten into a scuffle,” she sighed, and idly stirred her tea.

“News travels fast,” Vimes grumbled, not looking up from his own teacup.

“The headmistress was right, you know. He takes after you. He sees his father throw a punch or kick a shin, and figures that violence will solve all his problems.”

“It usually does.”

“Sam.”

“Sorry.”

“I spoke to the boy’s mother. She swears up and down that she has no idea why young Thomas would say those things about you.”

“‘Course she did. It’s all about appearances with these people. They’ll say whatever they want behind their expensive closed doors, but none of ‘em have got the spine to say it to your face.”

“As much as I agree with you, Sam, ‘these people’ are our people, even if you hate to think of them that way.”

“Still, good to know Sammy can hold his own in a fight.”

“Dear, I don’t think you’re taking the right lesson from this.”

Vimes grunted noncommittally.

“He just needs a different outlet for his aggression,” Sybil continued. “Something more…productive. Like an organized sport. The academy offers some rather robust athletic programs he could get into.”

Yes, organized sports… Sammy could wipe the floor with all those spoiled little brats, that was for sure. He needed a sport, but perhaps one that was less, well, organized.

—

“Daddy, you still won’t say where we’re going,” young Sam lamented.

“We’re almost there. Just a few more streets.”

After a few moments, Vimes heard the little voice from about twenty or thirty feet behind him. “Daddy, wait up! You’re going too fast!”

Vimes stopped. Damn. Without thinking, he had fallen into his normal Proceeding step.

“I’m tired of walking,” Sammy panted as he caught up.

Vimes almost laughed. Tired of walking? Then he realized. “You know, I ought to teach you how to walk properly. You swing your foot forward, like this. Get it right and you can keep going all day.”

Together they Proceeded, hand in hand this time to prevent another separation, to their destination. There it was…

Cockbill Street.

Gods, when was the last time I was here? thought Vimes. An investigation had led him back here some nine or ten years ago, but before that it must have been decades. The same peeling paint, the same worn cobbles, even the hopscotch game was still there…

“Where are we?” little Sam asked impatiently. “Looks like justa buncha ol’ houses.”

…And this was the first time the boy had ever seen it.

“Son, your old dad grew up in one of these old houses.”

“You used to live here?” Sammy looked doubtful. “They’re not as nice as our house.”

His father sighed. “Right you are. You’re awful lucky that your mother’s got a big fancy house and money to send you to a big fancy school. But you and I both know a big fancy school ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it?”

The boy’s face looked blank. A chorus of shouts and hollers turned his attention to a particularly rough-and-tumble football match taking place down the street, mostly boys a few years older than him.

Vimes nodded toward the game. “They don’t let you play like that at the Academy of Ankh,” he explained.

Sammy considered this as more shrieks and curses echoed off the decaying edifices. “But I dunno any of ‘em,” he pointed out.

“Doesn’t matter. Cockbill Street boys’ll toss a ball around with any little bugger who can force his way into a match. Just get in there and start running around, you’ll pick it up.”

He still looked unsure, but he ambled up to the pack as they were taking a time-out, as there looked to be some sort of hot dispute between the teams. He addressed a boy who was currently wrestling another into a headlock. “Lemme play,” he said simply. The boy in the headlock used the momentary distraction to wrench free and scamper off, sending a few other players to break off in pursuit.

“Who’re you?”

“My name’s Sammy, ‘n I wanna join. I can kick a ball real far.”

The older boy looked incredulous. He turned around to give a consulting glance to the others, who shrugged. “I s’pose we could use another player, since STUPID JOEY’S A THIEVIN’ BASTARD!” He addressed this last comment to the direction that Joey had run. “Jus’ try to keep up, since you look pretty small,” he added. And that was that.

Vimes leaned back against a crumbling wall and, more out of habit than anything else, lit a cigar. He watched the game intently. Indeed, young Sam had ingratiated himself seamlessly, dashing and darting and hollering to keep up with the fierce competition. Once he took a nasty spill, tumbling face first onto the cobblestones, and Vimes sucked his teeth sharply. But before he could move in to help his son, the boy jumped up with an alarming fierceness, completely unbothered by his bleeding nose and scraped knees, and made a mad dash to get back into the action.

Tonight he would be brought home covered in scrapes and bruises and a tear or two in his clothes, Vimes knew. Sybil wouldn’t exactly be overjoyed, but he figured he could convince her it’s no more dangerous than herding spontaneously explosive dragons as a hobby.

Vimes couldn’t help but smile. Whenever little Sammy got knocked down, a vengeful little gleam sparkled in his eyes, and just like a certain someone, he got right back up.

#discworld #sam vimes #samuel vimes #discworld fanfic #mine #sorry to my buddy sam from real life for the elliot smith song title i know its your song #DONT BE MAD AT ME PLEASE IT JUST SOUNDS GOOD AS A TITLE FOR THE STORY #also im sorry women. sybil kind of ended up as a Nagging Wife in this one :( shes just concerned for the wellbeing of her sams :(

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knownoshamc · 5 months

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Now that I think about it, one of the reasons I liked overstressed asshole Izzy in s1 was because I totally got him in 1x04.

My supervisor decided to edit my project, but he ended up completely ruining it right before the deadline. The client was helpful thankfully, and we managed to finish it on time, but fuck that was stressful and exhausting. When I told him about it he was just like "eh at least you bonded with the client!". Now I can imagine Izzy telling him "I offer you my fucking resignation you absolute twat!"

#izzy hands #idk s1 izzy seemed to me like an ex wife working with her husband #but her ex husband is just in his own little world and she has to do everything #and she is also considered the nagging mom and he is the fun dad #and then he kicks his ex out #then dad finds a new gf but swears to his ex wife that she means nothing to him #only to bring her around at the kids bday parties still telling the ex that she means nothing #no explanation #and she calls the cops #like this doesnt happen #but thats how their relationship was in my mind in s1 #and i didnt even care that much in s1

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