#on dal the fool | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ayakashiz · 23 days

Text

Alien Stage R6 Analysis

VERY LONG compilation of my interpretations, impressions and unanswered questions about Round 6 of Alien Stage. I just wanted to write this to put all my thoughts in one place so I can finally rest (in pieces). TW for mentions of suic*de/suic*dal ideation.

The most debated is no doubt the kiss/choking scene and Ivan’s motivation for doing so in the first place.

I think from the very beginning, even before R3, Ivan was planning to go out with a bang. That’s the immediate impression I got from the comic where he mocks/criticizes Sua for planning to “selfishly” die for Mizi and feel good being the “heroine” rather than having to deal with the trauma of being the one left behind.

(I'm too lazy to edit the whole translation as of now, but might do so when I have more time.)

Ivan tells her how he’s “relieved that he’s not the only who’s that twisted” = He’s comparing himself to Sua. He thinks they’re both ‘twisted’ for planning to do the same thing, but from Ivan’s perspective, he at least isn’t fooling himself into thinking his motives are altruistic. He tasted the feeling of being ‘abandoned’, and he knows he doesn’t want to experience it twice.

He also probably thought that his death wouldn’t be as impactful on Till as Sua’s death on Mizi, and therefore his own selfishness is more justified in his mind. This most likely plays a role in how cold and biting his words are towards Sua –he’s jealous of that difference between them.

I hadn’t noticed this detail the first time I watched the video: Not only did Till look absolutely miserable and defeated from the get go, but he completely gave up and stopped singing at some point. If you look at the video, we can hear the audio that was supposed to be sung, but Till is quiet and still, and THIS is the moment Ivan chooses to act.

Although they do not show the votes at that particular moment, stopping mid song would have definitely taken a hit to Till’s score as it’s basically forfeiting –a huge contrast to his previous match where he didn’t even let his opponent utter a single line.

In response, Ivan doesn’t just walk towards him but throws his microphone to the ground, explicitly forfeiting as well in order to then pull a drastic move like it was foreshadowed in his interview.

The kiss itself imo was the less calculated/arguably unplanned part. He could have just choked Till from the start and it would have gotten him the same if not better results (since it was the act of violence against another contestant that ultimately lowered his score and got the counter to stop).

That kiss was authentic and for himself entirely, both as a last desperate attempt at conveying his feelings and a selfish way of leaving a strong impression on Till that he wouldn’t be able to forget (a hypocritical move going back to how he criticized Sua). In that sense, I don’t think Ivan was seriously trying to take Till down with him –although that’s up to interpretation. As I see it, that would contradict his actions up until that point.

Till was VERY CLEARLY suic*dal (once again, he gave up singing), and after the initial shock of Ivan squeezing his neck, this fiery, rebellious man who is KNOWN to fight tooth and nail, simply closed his eyes and relaxed his body, waiting for Ivan to end him without fighting at all.

The thing is, no matter how suic*dal one may be, the fighting response when being actually suffocated is automatic and completely involuntary. People mention there not being marks on Till’s neck but I think the most telling sign is him not going red, not squirming, not struggling or holding onto Ivan’s wrists (again, expected involuntary responses), his eyes not watering or having blurry vision while we see Ivan from his POV, not opening his mouth even a little to gasp for air and not coughing or gasping either when he was finally released.

Ivan definitely had him in a strong grip, might have even made him a bit lightheaded, but the reason why Till could look so relaxed in the first place is because he had given up and was waiting for Ivan to go ahead. If his closed eyes and limp posture were due to the choking itself, he would have fallen or stumbled when being let go, but we see that his eyes open as soon as he feels Ivan’s hands slipping away and he looks shocked instead.

So then what was Ivan’s motivation, if not to kill him? Yes, there’s the already discussed plan to get himself disqualified. But Ivan glances at the screen only a few seconds after he starts the choking, confirming that the voting had in fact stopped with Till having the higher score. He then goes for one last ‘goodbye’ kiss before continuing to choke him, holding his grip even as he starts getting shot.

We see a closeup of him, his eyes and hands trembling, looking more frustrated/emotional than in Till’s first POV where he looks rather stoic. It makes me think that the reason he refused to let go was simply because he wanted Till to look at him.

They strongly imply throughout the whole video that being annoying or mean or violent was the only way Ivan learnt how to make Till focus his full attention on him, but now even as he’s threatening his life, even as he himself is dying, even after that kiss, Till wouldn’t look.

It took him getting fatally wounded and realizing there was no turning back to reach a state of acceptance. His bittersweet expression here reminds me A LOT of his smile after Till runs back during the meteor scene, although this one seems a lot more tender. He seems to accept the fact that Till will never love him back, but Ivan cannot stop loving him anyways and he at least got to put his feelings out there.

(The parallels here are driving me insane. The way there is light in his eyes in both instances as he looks at Till even while 'losing him' in a way. The struggle between wanting to posses him yet realizing his free spirit/strong will is part of what he loves about him. That last genuine gaze from a character who spent his whole life putting on a mask. Yes I am very normal about this.)

Until then, Ivan’s more tender/vulnerable side is only shown while Till is unconscious or looking away.

(That soft, loving nuzzle to Till's face has me in SHAMBLES.)

But ironically, it’s only when he releases him and shows him this vulnerability without a mask that Till really looks at him for the first time. I’d go as far as to say that it was this moment, and not the kiss, that finally made Till understand Ivan’s feelings. And in turn Ivan gets that little shot of euphoria as he falls to the ground.

Going back to the survivor’s guilt… I can only imagine it’ll go completely downhill for Till from now on. Not only does he already think Mizi might be dead and is angry at himself that he couldn’t save her (as seen in the shot where he punches his own picture), but now he has most likely realized that Ivan intentionally fumbled their match for his sake –which would lead to the realization that he was the reason why Ivan chose to run back to Anakt Garden after him in the first place, and that choice ultimately lead to his death.

Even though we see them fighting a lot as children through the videos and comics, it’s also implied that they were always together and they shared some quiet moments –the “Mizi didn’t play with you, I played with you” art, all that art of the main 4 playing together, those bright smiles as they ran away together during the meteor shower scene and Till looking so guilty when he let go of his hand.

There are a few cute doodles of them for those who are on Patreon, and some more lore in the Anakt Garden kit –so they were at the very least friends in their own way (as best as 2 very traumatized and abused children could), constantly fighting and making up. Which God… it shows that despite appearances Till must have actually had the patience of a saint when they were little lmao.

But what I’m trying to say is that despite what Ivan may have thought, his death will most definitely have an impact on Till and the narrative going forward, and I’m excited to find out how that reflects in the final round (if the resistance doesn’t manage to get back up in time to disrupt it).

Despite how much I adored (and SUFFERED WITH) this round, I still have MANY questions that were left unanswered, both about Ivan and Till, and the lore in general, and I wonder if there’ll be time to answer them all, as I can imagine the next MV will be focused on Luka’s perspective, the only one we haven’t been presented with.

One of the most pressing questions being: What’s the relationship between Ivan and that alien dog? Did he tame it? It is implied that it was Ivan who somehow led Till and Mizi to it in the first place in that one scene, and if so I wonder what his motivation was? Normally jealousy would be the first thing to come to mind but Ivan wasn’t interested in Till until AFTER he saw him stand up to the beast to protect Mizi, so it couldn’t have been that.

This is something that was also teased on Patreon and I was looking forward to the explanation on the MV, but it never came, and now Ivan is dead, so the next video will most likely not be too concerned with his backstory any longer. (Which, also, I was really curious about his life in the slums before being captured, auctioned and brought to Anakt, as that would have played a huge role in his twisted personality/dark tendencies –once again teased on Patreon very briefly, but not explained beyond that frame of him looking famished.)

The second is, how is Ivan able to open Till’s collar/muzzle so easily? This is a question I’ve been having since R3, but chalked it up to Ivan being sneaky and figuring out some kind of code to the cell door and that somehow automatically deactivating the locks on the restraints… or something. But with how many times he does it in R6 with just a touch it’s very clear that that isn’t the case and also imo they’re trying to point this out as a significant detail.

It may turn out that I’m just looking too much into it, but I find it really curious and interesting. Not only is he the only child without a collar (Mizi and Sua still had them despite being just as well behaved as him), but he seems to be the only one able to take them off –or at least Till’s. I’m pretty sure the children wouldn’t normally be able to remove them by themselves as it seems to be a control mechanism. So how can Ivan? This might explain a lot about how they were able to escape, and also add a layer of tragedy knowing that Ivan could have chosen to escape by himself at any point, but refused to leave Till behind.

Last but not least there’s all the human experimentation Till was subjected to, which was the main topic of the teaser and we see the same images show up in the very beginning of the MV. They help emphasize Till’s suffering and distressed state of mind, but then they’re never expanded on or mentioned at all for the rest of the video. That’s a huge piece of lore that I also hope isn’t forgotten.

I mean, I really doubt it will. So far VIVINOS & co. have been incredible with their ability to hold back information and release it at the moment where it’s the most impactful, which is refreshing to see. So I trust we’ll get some answers eventually.

Really curious to know why they would experiment on an ALNST contestant in the first place, especially one that is undoubtedly talented and described as a musical genius (aka. has good odds of doing well on stage and earning the segyein revenue). A very plausible theory might just be that he was just getting constantly drugged to make him less of a threat/more submissive –like we see on the karaoke room scene. But it might as well be something bigger.

As for my expectations for the next round… I’m still just trying to process this one, as you can see by the sheer amount of text. There are many things left to address, and the Hyuna/Luka confrontation has been strongly teased. I wonder also, if the round goes on without interruption, what would Luka’s strategy against Till be? Would he go for provocation again, trying to imitate Mizi/hint to his recent trauma with Ivan? It probably won’t be that simple.

I mean, VIVINOS has been known for subverting our expectations with each round:

The ominous/callous framing that was given to Ivan by the end of Black Sorrow and the art that followed, making us suspicious of his intentions, only to have him die for love. The lifeless/doll-like framing given to Luka, vulnerable and cornered by flashing lights, only to have him be the cruelest/most calculating one (that we know so far). The rebellious, rowdy, willing to do anything to survive framing given to Till, only to have his fighting spirit completely break and willingly waiting to die by Ivan’s hands. The naive, complacent and passive image given to Mizi, only to have her snap, beat the shit out of Luka and join the rebellion –and with how things are going (and her being the protagonist) I wouldn’t be surprised if she, and not Hyuna (the one who was framed as the most strong and reliable, giving us a false sense of security going into R6), is who will have to try and rescue Till (and Luka???).

There are still a ton of things that keep me awake at night about R6 –my favorite character dying aside. I could talk about it forever, but I’ll leave it here.

Feel free to share your theories, delusions, interpretations or any detail I might have missed with me. God knows we need group therapy after this as the cute chibi keychains can only heal us so far. Thanks for reading my rambles if you made it this far. :’)

#alien stage #alnst #에이스테 #ivantill #vivinos #ivan alnst #till alnst #im GOING INSANE idk if you can tell... hahah #the only reason i didn't flood this with more videos and pictures is cause tumblr gave me a limit of 30 :')

443 notes · View notes

rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me · 4 months

Text

Dallas Dating A Curtis!Reader

Buckle up buttercups, this is gonna be fun!

As always, to fit the age bracket, you’re either Soda’s twin, or you were born between Sodapop and Ponyboy

Pick and choose as you see fit, but I’m definitely seeing more opportunity for a Sodapop’s twin sibling-

Anywayyyssssssss

Lemme set the stage a little bit, alright? Cause there’s a bunch of ideas floating around in this brain of mine-

You’ve had a crush on Dal for the longest time and I mean the longest time- ever since he stumbled in with that stupid white blond hair and that stupid New York accent and that stupid little attitude of his- you’d been head over heels

And low and behold, Dallas had been nursing a few feelings for you as well, hiding them a little better than you had been

So of course, y’all flirt and mess around and all the rest of the boys are a little suspicious but you and Dal both deny that there’s anything between the two of you

That changes a few weeks before the Curtises die, you and Dallas go on an official date down to the nightly double (he timed it with your favorite films cause he’s romantic like that) and bada bing bada boom, y’all are dating

But it’s a secret and no one knows but here comes the funeral and you’re holding Dallas’ hand through the whole thing, crying into his shoulder and he’s cradling the back of your head and everyone knows there’s something up

Darry doesn’t like it- not even a little bit- he doesn’t love that you’re dating Dal one smidgeon of a bit

He likes Dal well enough, he’s got to, they’re in the same gang, but like- he knows Dallas well enough too to know that maybe this isn’t the best thing

Dare’s biggest concern is your heart and whether or not Dal’s gonna break it by doing something stupid like fooling around with someone else or getting hauled in for something big and leaving you alone forever

Sodapop’s a little more okay with it? But he’s still a little hesitant, especially when Dally likes to get a little more physical than he needs to

*cough cough* kissing you way past decent under the porch light when he’s dropping you off at home after a date, sliding his hand into your back pocket to keep you close, just generally being Dal and pushing the limits of what is publicly decent *cough cough*

But!

Where the real fun is located is with our dear darling Ponyboy!

It’s canon, I’m pretty sure and I’m pretty confident after reading the book fifty million times, that Ponyboy “doesn’t like” Dally and thinks he’s kinda scary

But at the same time, we all know that boy looks up to Dally too and Dally has a soft spot for him

I’m seeing like- Ponyboy and Johnny and Dallas hanging out, just the three of them, and Dal’s trying to be all nonchalant and stuff, smoking casually as he tries to ask Ponyboy about how you’d like certain things

Dally tries to subtly run almost all his date ideas past Ponyboy before he takes you out because yeah, he really does like you, and sometimes he’s just a little unsure of himself with how much he cares about you

Now. When he gets hauled in, and we know it’s going to happen, let's be honest with ourselves folks, when he gets hauled in, his phone call is going to go to the Curtis house

He’s gonna ask for you and he’s gonna apologize for having to be gone for so long

If I was you? I’d cry, I’d scream, I’d be angry and sad and frustrated because why does he keep making stupid decisions?

But I’m gonna tell you this-

Putting up with stupid decisions and working through tough times like this? It’s gonna be a lot of the relationship, and it’s gonna be pretty prominent in your time with Dally

If that’s not for you? Then maybe, maybe it won’t work out

But that’s alright too! All the more for me :D

#the outsiders #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders hcs #the outsiders x reader #dillo’s writing #dallas winston #dallas winston x reader

565 notes · View notes

2knightt · 11 months

Note

please write something, anything I’m thirsty pretty please with a cherry on top 😋

↳treat me like a fool!₊˚✧

──IN WHICH, the gang falls head over heels inlove!。✦

||✰ — the gang, separately

Dallas Winston ;

dally thought you were gorgeous.

you were sitting across at buck’s, talking to someone who could only assume is your friend.

you were laughing, giggling, talking, in such a way that dallas was captivated.

he couldn’t even pay attention to two-bit tellin’ him one of him lousy jokes.

“and i tell ‘er—hey! are you even listenin’ to me, dal?!”

“what?”

“what’re you even looking a—”

two-bit may not be smart, but he sure as hell can put two and two together.

he followed dallas’s eyes, only to see you.

two-bit got a goofy grin on his face and turned to face dallas.

“go talk to her!”

dallas rolled his eyes in annoyance.

‘go talk to her,’ he doesn’t get it—you’re too pretty for a grease like him.

“no, man.”

two-bit laughed like it was funny.

he lightly hit dallas’s arm, he knew he could talk to you, but it was like he was nervous.

and, dallas was nervous.

but he couldn’t let his nerves get the best of him. he just can’t, he’s better than that.

dallas sighed, dreading what he was about to do.

he knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t let the opportunity pass.

he walked towards you, putting on a confident aura to make him seem tuff.

“hey.”

“oh-hi!”

jesus, even your voice was pretty.

if we’re being honest here, dallas had to recollect himself after you spoke.

“saw you ‘cross the bar n’ wondered if i could, get your name?”

“that’s it?”

“yea, why? got a problem?”

“y/n.”

you answered his previous question, yet not his most recent one.

it was like you wanted to keep him guessing, and he liked that.

dallas winston actually liked y/n.

Johnny Cade ;

you’ve known dallas winston for years.

good friends, obviously.

the two of you were walking down the street to nowhere in particular.

the both of you like to make it up as you go.

you were telling him about some gossip as he pretended to listen, until he shouted out some guys name.

“johnny!? is that you?!”

you scoffed and rolled your eyes.

if he wanted to hang out with someone else, he could’ve just said.

the boy that you suppose is johnny, perked up and started walking towards you two.

the both of you stopped walking to see johnny, even though you had zero clue on who he is.

dallas is a very private man when it comes to his other friends.

when johnny got up to you guys, dallas threw his arm around his neck, puttin’ him in a headlock.

he was scolding the poor kid about something even you couldn’t understand.

when he was done, johnny was rubbing his head in annoyance.

his eyes almost lit up at the sight on ya.

johnny thought you were an angel.

you were almost glowing in the sunlight, your hair framed your face perfectly, your eyes, lips, nose, everything was gorgeous.

“uh, who’s she?”

he asked, turning to dallas.

“y/n, say hi to johnny. be a good girl, eh?”

“oh shut up, dal! but uh—hi johnny. i’m y/n.”

your voice was like honey to johnny, he was almost stunned.

you felt a little creeped out with his stares so, you thought you’d just walk back home.

you waved to the boys and turned around to start walking.

dallas looked in johnny’s direction with the type of look that johnny didn’t like.

“your creepy staring scared ‘er off.”

“what? i wasn’t staring, bug off man.”

was he? oh god..that’s not a good first impression.

especially for such a beautiful person like you!

god, what a fool he was.

Ponyboy Curtis ;

pony saw you ‘round school a few times, always thought you were really cute but he never got a real good look at you.

but luckily, you had to ask ‘em a question.

“hey! you’re ponyboy, right?”

you’re even prettier up close, jeez.

no way a guy like him, had a chance with a girl like you.

your smile was more attractive than he was, your voice was like the heavens above were calling for him, everything about you was just…better than him.

but he put on the bravest smile he could, and nodded his head.

“good, be pretty embarrassing if i was talkin’ to the wrong guy.”

you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

ponyboy lightly chuckled, never thought you’d get so comfortable around him before.

“well uhm—i was just wonderin’ if you knew my friend, micheal?”

yeah, he knew micheal.

he knew what you were gonna ask.

he knew there was a rumor going around about you guys dating.

he just, didn’t get why you’re asking him out of all people.

“yeah, why?”

“okay, cool! well, if he tells you we’re dating, ignore him. please?”

“definitely.”

you smiled, genuinely this time.

your smile almost made ‘em faint.

you were just so cute, too cute for anyone in this bum city.

you thanked ponyboy for his time and for being understanding, and rushed out.

he just stood there, trying to process that you talked to him.

he was red, his ears were red, and his cheeks were red.

he looked like a loser.

but now, he was a loser with an angel knowing about his existence.

so, it’s a win.

Sodapop Curtis ;

you just got hired at the DX to be a cashier.

you needed the money, just in general.

your boss had told sodapop he wasn’t needed at the cash register, and he didn’t know why.

he got that they got a new employee but, being the cashier was more his job!

thought he’d go check you out, go see if your even fit for the DX!

you were just sitting there, your chin resting on your palm, waiting for anyone to walk through the doors to buy something.

you heard the back door open but didn’t really pay attention to it. you were sorta just, staring off into space.

sodapop walked in, and saw you just sittin’ there!

if he was working the register, he sure wouldn’t have just been sitting there!

he walked around the counter to talk to you, face to face! give ya a good scarin’.

at least, he thought that’s what he was gonna do.

when he saw you for the first time, he swore he almost got weak in the knees.

you just looked up at him, not bothering to move your head or nothin’.

even though you looked almost mad, you were still drop dead gorgeous.

the sun hit your face, just right.

your lashes, your eyes, the shine in ‘em almost made sodapop apologize for annoying you and run away.

in a good way, though.

“whatchu want? who even are ya?”

“nothin’! just wanted to say hi to my new co-worker is all. i’m sodapop curtis! what’s your name?”

he talks an awful lot this early in the morning.

but who are you to complain? less talking for you.

“y/n.”

soda smiled, even your name was beautiful.

everything about you was.

you were perfect.

Darry Curtis ;

you knew darry early on in life, around middle school..maybe?

you couldn’t really pinpoint it.

you stopped talking because you moved up north.

you did miss him, but you never really thought an awful lot about it. even when you were going back to tusla.

you were at the store for nothing in particular, it was more like something to pass the time.

you were going aisle by aisle, finding nothing.

until you went down one aisle, there was one real tall guy looking at some soup.

you thought he looked familiar, but you couldn’t tell from so far away.

you walked down the aisle and stopped right beside him, pretending to be looking at soup.

the man looked confused, but he was distracted so you could get a good look.

you saw his side profile and it all finally clicked.

“holy shit, darry?!”

you basically shouted, with a huge stupid grin.

darry looked scared and confused at the fact that someone knew his name, but when he turned to face you he looked more surprised than anything.

“y/n?!”

darry thought you were pretty before but, jesus. how did you get even prettier?

your smile was wider than before, your eyes looked happier, and you were just…gorgeous overall.

“well shit—how’re you? how’s your brothers?”

“they’re good. soda dropped out though, but ponyboy’s doin’ good in school.”

“that sucks about soda, ‘m sorry. but uh—i gotta go, sorry! hey, how ‘bout we catch up tomorrow?”

darry was shocked you’d even wanna hang out with him.

you just seemed so—high class now.

but, who was he to turn down a goddess?

he agreed and the two of you set a time and waved goodbye.

for the rest of the day, darry had this stupid smile on his face.

Steve Randle ;

you guys had met through a mutual friend.

danny had wanted to hang out with two of his friend groups at the same time.

you were in group A while steve was in group B.

everyone was partying, but that wasn’t really your thing.

you were off to the side, people watching.

some guy grumbled and stood next to you, almost oblivious to you.

he looked pretty mad so you thought you’d ry n lighten the mood.

somehow.

“so much for a party, huh?”

you tried to joke, looking up at the man.

he looked down at you, stunned.

you didn’t know why, he looked like he was judging you the way he looked you up n down.

steve was just shocked a girl like you would talk to him.

too pretty for him, way too pretty.

even in this dimly lit room, he can see how gorgeous you were.

your smile was so pretty, so gorgeous.

then steve realized he must look like a freak, staring.

he chuckled, giving you a halfassed answer.

“yeah right. was told this was gonna be fun, might as well leave.”

“was just about to do that. no point in stayin’ when all my friends are so drunk they can’t even remember their own names.”

“can i get your name at least?”

he asked, raising an eyebrow.

he must’ve thought that was smooth.

you chuckled at his question,

“y/n.”

“i’m steve, it’s nice to meet you, pretty lady.”

Two-bit Matthews ;

“woah! hey pretty lady!”

you heard some guy shout at you from behind you.

you sighed, but kept on walking.

when the strange dude caught up to you, he almost tripped.

you laughed at his failed attempt, and two-bit could’ve sworn he heard wedding bells right there!

“what d’ya want?”

“can i not want to talk to you?”

“nah.”

you answered, grinning at his disappointed face.

“aw, c’mon! a man deserves something for his efforts!”

“what efforts?”

the man went silent, and thought for a moment before answering,

“…i ran.”

you burst out laughing again.

and two-bit almost pulled out a ring.

you were like a goddess on earth, had the most gorgeous laugh, and understood his humour?

take him away.

“well? can i get ya number, pretty lady?”

“nah.”

you said, walking away.

the man stood there, stunned, watching you walk away before snapping out of it to shout at you.

“AT LEAST TELL ME YOUR NAME!! I’M TWO-BIT!”

“Y/N!”

and now it’s two-bits mission to get y/ns number.

—can you tell i gave up?

— ALSO MY OTHER FIC WONT UPLOAD. UGH.

taglist ;

@diorgirl444 @typereader

#2knightt #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #johnny cade x reader #johnny x reader #dallas winston x reader #dallas x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #ponyboy x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #steve randle x reader #two bit x reader #two bit matthews x reader #darry curtis x reader #leo’s anons🤍

2K notes · View notes

ohmyeyesmyeyes · 1 year

Text

piano (dal)ma(tio)n

charles leclerc x f!reader - social media au

psa: no plot, just thoughts

liked by screamingmeals, landonorris and 246,940 others

ynofficial: piano (dal)ma(tio)n

view all comments

charles_leclerc: I SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU NOT TO LET BUZZ BANG ON THE PIANO

ynofficial: it's my fucking piano????

landonorris: mum and dad are fighting again alex_albon

charles_leclerc: BUT!! IT'S!! VINTAGE!!

ynofficial: YOU TRY SAYING NO TO THAT FACE. DARE YOU RN.

alex_albon: don't let it fool you lando_norris, he's giggling too, i can hear it across the paddock

lewishamilton: buzz looks like he's having fun! charles_leclerc he could be a musical genius

ynofficial: that's what i've been saying!!!!!!!!!! but SOMEONE won't hear me out 🙄🙄

charles_leclerc: i'll hear you out when he learns to play chopin

ynofficial: bitch

charles_leclerc: love you too😘😘😘😘😘😘

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 317,713 others

tagged: isahernaez

ynofficial: 'i'm a spontaneous person' - harry bright

view all comments

isaherneaz:❤️

charles_leclerc: so spontaneous you forgot to tell me 😐

charles_leclerc: i was this close 🤏to calling the police

ynofficial: oh my god i knew i forgot something

charles_leclerc: DO I MEAN NOTHING????

ynofficial: open snapchat

charles_leclerc: merde nvm

lando_norris: ew keep it PG in here

georgerussell63: oh charlie boy

liked by sophieturner, callum_ilott and 428,165 others

ynofficial: i pictured you with other girls in love and threw up on the street (true)

view all comments

lilymhe: i can vouch i was there ✋

charles_leclerc: darling, when was this?

lando_norris: last week?

ynofficial: i'm not gonna lie, literally three days after meeting you

charles_leclerc: #whipped

ynofficial: loud and proud about it

camilamorrone: charles_leclerc if you don't put a ring on her i will

charles_leclerc: noted

pierregasly: 😲

ynofficial: pierregasly you and me both brotha

liked by pierregasly, barzal97 and 412,926 others

ynofficial: charles_leclerc don't know what YOU are talking about mr-hands-on-at-all-times

view all comments

arthur_leclerc: THERE ARE CHILDREN HERE

ynofficial: you're what??? 22???

charles_leclerc: didn't have to do me like that 😐😐

ynofficial: i can do you however i want

charles_leclerc: oh? 😏

lando_norris: i have to deal with max sucking face in public and this when i look at my phone smh

liked by pierregasly, arthur_leclerc and 245,186 others

ynofficial: PASS THE MIC RIGHT OVER TO CHARLES...we forgot charles

view all comments

charles_leclerc: please come back

danielricciardo: BUT WE CAN'T TURN BACK COS WE'VE GONE TOO FAR!!!

ynofficial: unbothered king 👑

danielricciardo: you know it

alex_albon: did you guys...forget charles?

charles_leclerc: yep

liked by ynofficial, carlossainz55 and 628,196 others

charles_leclerc: if we run away together each time you leave me to walk a block before coming back to get me, i'll start hiding myself. love you always and a whole lot.

view all comments

arthur_leclerc: sap. marry her immediately.

charles_leclerc: working on it, promise!

ynofficial: i saw nothing, but yes

charles_leclerc: oh. nice to know 😊😊😊😊😊😊

ynofficial: please start hiding yourself, i want to stay here forever

charles_leclerc: say no more, i'll make sure to get a ticket for buzz next time

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc social media au

1K notes · View notes

alittlebitofloveliness · 22 days

Text

Angsty Post Outsiders Headcanons

-Ponyboy gets real cuddly for a while, but Darry and Soda don’t mind because it’s kind of nice their kid brother is still a kid, even though he’s grown up a lot. Darry in particular will just sit with Pony on the couch with an arm around his shoulders, and it helps keep Pony grounded

-For a while, none of the gang can stand to say either Johnny or Dally’s names, because whenever they get brought up Pony goes completely blank, Darry’s eyes get cold, Soda tears up, Steve picks a fight, and Two-bit goes out drinking

-The long term effects from Ponyboy’s concussion leave him with balance issues, blurry vision, and dizzy spells for a while. It has Darry terrified about the possibility of him having long term brain damage and has Pony really stressed. Soda doesnt know what to do so he just pretends everything is fine, but his positivity is so false he cant even fool himself

-The first time Ponyboy voluntarily leaves the house after everything is when Curly Shepard gets out of the reformatory and shows up on the Curtis’ porch looking for him. A bit of the spark has returned to Ponyboy’s eye when he gets back that night and because of that Darry can’t really hate Curly Shepard as much as he wants to. Sodapop loathes the kid enough for both of them anyhow

-Steve notices Dally’s absence the most whenever he’s stealing cars because Dal used to know where the best places to drive them and then drop them without being noticed by the fuzz

-Sodapop is super wary of girls after Sandy, and Steve hates that he’s secretly happy about it because even though they get to spend a lot more time together now, Sodapop is clearly still heartbroken

-Curly Shepard has always liked booze a little too much, and even though Ponyboy doesn’t like the taste he quickly learns to like the feeling of being drunk and not having to think about Johnny or Dal. Surprisingly, Two-bit is the one to shake some sense into him after everyone else was unsuccessful

-Steve starts playing music real loud all the time and no one gets why. (He does it because everything is so quiet all the time without Dal causing trouble and Johnny and Ponyboy always muttering to each other and snickering)

-Steve was the first person in the gang to find out about Curly and Ponyboy being a couple when he walked in on them cuddling one day. They don’t notice him and he didn’t tell anyone, not even Soda, because if what happened to Johnny and Dally taught him anything it’s that rash actions and loose lips have a cost he isn’t willing to pay

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #curly shepard #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #steve randle #johnny cade #dallas winston

192 notes · View notes

dhampling · 3 months

Note

I've had this idea in my head ever since I first played as a Dragonborn or Tiefling in BG3, and I have no idea why it isn't discussed more. But what if a Tiefling! (Or Dragonborn, whichever you prefer) Tav shows affection by coiling their tail around their s/o? Like they're close by and are just overwhlemed with love and adoration, and their tail just kinda wraps around their lovers leg? Or wrist or anywhere they can reach! Like Tav is hugging Astarion and then without really realizing it, their tail coils around him as well? Idk, I just think the concept is super sweet/cute. I would love to see this as a small story, or even just head cannons if you want to explore the idea as well. No pressure, obviously, ignore it if you wish to ❤️ hope you're doing well!

a tail of... insert pun here! tavs with TAILS. tails with tav. tav tails with dal.

hello sweetling! can i start by saying that i loved this - genuinely, absolutely loved this. i started by writing HCs and got a bit carried away, so i hope you enjoy the little bit of both here! thank you for giving me something different - this is absolutely not something i'd have thought of and i had SO MUCH FUN. a/n: species isn't mentioned, and I've tried to keep it as generic as possible so it could be applicable for tiefs or dragonborn tavs!

headcanons;

As far back as you can recall you’ve been particularly expressive

It’s not something that you’ve ever seen as an issue, beyond the occasional mishap you can laugh over with any tail-whipped parties later

Frantic little licks of excitement when playing with your peers as a youngling come to mind as an immediate example

Running amok and jumping with the widest of smiles as your tail oscillates behind you

Your family chiding you playfully whilst rubbing their stinging ankles after a particularly jovial day in your presence

Your parents holding you whilst you were still small enough to be held

Your tail bony and light, and yet tightly winding around their forearms as you rested on their torso like a twisting vine

A sign of comfort, safety

A sign that hasn’t lost any significance as you’ve aged

Many a time you’ve run into an old friend and accidentally lashed them in sheer glee, loosely wrapping your tail to whichever limb you can to keep them close as you agree to wander the local bustling market together

And so when you begin to bond with your fellow escapists as you search for a cure for your unfortunate parasite problem, it’s inevitable

It doesn’t even cross your mind

Not until the day where everything just went right

For the first time since your abduction you’ve emerged your battles all victorious, casualties kept to a minimum, and with enough variety in supplies to have a proper meal

Spirits are high, wine is flowing; and your party has a real energy of optimism

Your tail flitters back and forth like a moth to a flame as your take to your feet and search for the one who has captured your attention

fool's errand;

It takes Astarion a little aback when the wine steers you towards him.

A few weeks in each others’ presence, sure. A night or two; possibly three, maybe even four at this point, of mutual enjoyment under the stars. Frequent back and forth exchanges while on the road, bantering like old friends. You give him your neck, he offers you moral support.

But on a night where the joy is positively spilling from every cup in camp, you step to him?

He’s unsure whether to be flattered or cautious.

If you’re to end your arrangement, surely tonight - where the conversation is so effusive, so effortless across your party - would be the optimal time to do so. Laugh it away as a lapse in judgement between ‘old friends’, as you often joke, and drift from him to a more viable prospect as the coming days pass. Leave him as the least amicable in camp once more. He’d understand.

Not that he’d like it.

But he’d understand.

Or, he’d try to. He might be a little upset if Lae’zel wins Lady Congeniality over him, but it’s not the end of the world.

He’d have to hope the group still would still want to keep him around of course. Be a little nicer to Gale. Offer to help Karlach carry your packs between camps.

What is he offering you if not his nimble fingers? Maybe he went too hard on gunning for you. Or not hard enough, perhaps?

You quirk a brow as you snap your fingers in his face, wine sloshing gently in your other hand.

Clearly his face is now showing his displeasure.

“You ok? Hello?”

“Oh! Yes, my sweet. Lost in thought.”

He waggles his fingers and lifts his goblet to toast alongside yours. To new friends.

“I must say - you being lost in thought is entirely unusual. Still wondering about the left handed tongs Gale sent you searching for earlier?” You laugh warmly. He scowls.

“I don’t eat! I haven’t eaten for two hundred years. What use would I have for tongs in a dungeon, darling?’

He sips.

‘A fool’s errand in very poor taste, if you ask me.”

You still. He pauses.

He’s feeling sour, and he’s ruined it for you. Sapped the joy from your evening. Gods.

He wracks his brain for ways he can come back into favour.

Suggest other things he’d like to taste in order to clear his palate. He hasn’t eaten in two hundred years, and he’s absolutely famished. Whet your appetite a little. Win you back round.

“I can hear your brain whirring, you know.” You whisper, leaning close.

He freezes. Can you see it? Through the tadpole? His horrid scheming?

And you do the most unexpected thing.

Your arms come around his torso to envelop him in a tight hug.

You aren’t fervently clutching at his waist, running fevered hands over his abdomen or pulling yourself close just to feel his body against yours.

It’s soft. Clandestine almost. He doesn’t know how to react.

“I do so adore you, you know? You make this sordid little adventure a little more enjoyable each day.’

You hum. Your head falls to his chest, your tail wrapping around his leg steadily.

‘You can talk to me about these things if you want to. If you figure out what you want to say. I’m here.”

He wouldn’t have anticipated a single one of your actions in the face of his sullen behaviour this evening.

Yet the one that touches him most is the tail now secure around his leg.

A reminder of every tired day you flit joyously against him as you trek together, the curiosity and jubilee when he powers through a wholly trapped room with nothing but a single tool and a flourish - for good measure, of course.

Your little happy whips as you stumble on dire-needed pouches of gold alongside him. His lockpicking skill that you find oh-so enthralling, providing for the party in making use of his talent.

And every once in a while when you’re aside him, the way this happens.

A moment that reminds him of the beauty within bodies past their use for sexuality. How genuinely happy those little mindless touches make him. How his undead heart could maybe be cajoled into beating again over this one.

He coughs. Smiles. Brings his arms around you, though delayed.

Head resting atop yours.

“You’re full of surprises aren’t you, treasure?”

Your tail flits against his leg in a happy shiver.

“Naturally, darling.”

You imitate him in a way that makes you both laugh like fools. Toast once again.

"To us."

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #fluff #my writing #headcanons #tavs with tails #request #thank you anon i love you!

188 notes · View notes

rippersz · 8 months

Text

ᴀ ꜰᴏᴏʟ'ꜱ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

---

(Brienne of Tarth x Named Reader; Angsty; Hurt/Slight Comfort) (TW: Suic*de attempt; Suic*dal ideations/thoughts; Slight Romanticization of mental illness)

---

“An autumn whisper between the maples kept urging: Die with me.” ~ Anna Akhmatova

---

A Fool’s Death.

That’s what they call it.

A Fool’s Death. You’re a coward if you do it. You’re a lazy bastard if you live with thoughts of it. You’re a selfish prick of a soul either way.

There’s no winning and there’s no losing. There’s no talk of it. Not even a mention. Not even a whisper. And if there is, you are spoken of. Judged. Scrutinized until The Fool’s Death becomes your death. Until the village and its people and everyone in your family are forced to spit upon your narcissistic bones and claim you disowned even though there is nothing left to claim and nothing left to disown. Just a corpse that is cold and dull and useless.

Cold and dull and useless.

You think that’s how you’ll do it.

Winter has already carried her snow and chill and winds into the region, laying it all upon the land like a warm blanket around a small child’s body. Painting everything white and leaving it to glisten to sludge beneath the eventual heat of the spring sun. A perfect time for rebirth. A perfect time for death.

—

Your hands shake as you slowly pull open the door to your quarters, wincing while it creaks and groans, forcing you to stop every time a noise rings out into the empty hall. Your heart, pounding away in your ears, ruins your sense of hearing while you stand like a statue within your own doorway. Anxiety slips through your bones. Fear pulls at you. The last desire you have is to wake everyone in the castle and call attention to yourself. No, having eyes and ears on you while you lay in the snow and wait for the freeze to set in is less than ideal. A Fool’s Death, after all, is never A Fool’s Death if done with company.

So once you decide that the corridors are empty and you can slip out through the back entrance into the kitchens, you do exactly that. A singular torch is lit, burning away within its stone perch, nearly beckoning you closer with its dancing flame. You trail toward it and stop there, watching it for a moment, reveling in the last bit of warmth that your skin will ever feel. You know that some hours later, when the moon is long gone and the clouds block the sun and the stars keep themselves veiled, you will no longer be able to feel fire. You will no longer be able to feel ice. You will no longer be able to feel the breath in your lungs leave you in short pants. It will all bleed into the same numb feeling. And you will freeze until Mother Nature tells you to thaw. And once your body has been revealed to the changing air of the seasons, once the earth’s creatures start to take advantage of your indirect kindness, you also know that your frozen flesh will not be mourned. Because no one will cry for you. And no one will beg the gods, both old and new, to bring you back. And no one will waste another precious breath worrying about who you were.

You, who were just another soldier out of an army of hundreds. A faceless woman. A person easily replaced. Inconsequential in every sense of the word. Your family was dead, your acquaintances were no more than good mornings and good nights, your position would be filled as soon as you broke rank. And no one would notice your absence. The Lord Commander wouldn’t even blink. The royal family wouldn’t even spare a thought. Though then again, it wasn’t like you deserved their thoughts, their sympathies, their prayers anyway. You weren’t a war hero and you weren’t important and you didn’t do anything beyond follow orders and live your life. Well- that last bit would change, of course. As soon as you pull yourself away from the torch and get going.

The chill of night is a harsh contrast from the few minutes of firelight, but you find that your body, already shivering and slow beneath the thin white nightgown, doesn’t take true notice of the cold. You’re only propelled forward by a distant urge. A previously agreed upon understanding with no one but yourself: This was necessary. This is what it was going to come to anyway, whether you died a fool sooner or later. This was the way of the world and you were just another pawn amongst the masses. Going to war, front of the line, hoping to die in glory.

But there was no glory there. There was no glory in your measured footsteps and there was no glory in your sagging shoulders and tired expression. And there was no glory in your desire. How could there be? How could the good gods ever wish to touch you after your blasphemy? How could you hang your soul out to dry and still expect to find your place in Nirvana? They will call you a coward. They will call you a fool. They will call you a rotten whore and they will say that they wish you’d done it sooner. They will walk past your nonexistent grave without a wandering thought as to what your name was. You could’ve saved everyone the trouble, they will say. Could’ve saved them the breaths. Spared them of your quiet awkward presence. Making everyone uncomfortable. Leaving the men to tease and toss aside the idea of censoring themselves just because you were a woman. Not the only woman, but a woman nonetheless. Of course they held their tongues when The Lord Commander walked past, or sat at the table, or existed and breathed in their general vicinity, but that didn’t matter. Brienne of Tarth was not always around to control them nor comfort you - not that she did the latter anyway. You weren’t important enough for that.

And the universe seemed to agree. The path was laid out before you, lit by the silver moon, traced by the glow of the white ground. You’d decided on your resting place only a few days ago. During a morning patrol with some of the newer trainees, you came across a spot of smooth Earth. Two logs, parallel to each other, framed a large empty patch of snow. From where you stood, it looked like a beautiful painting that had yet to be finished. There was no subject- no goal- no lesson to be learned- no deeper meaning and no unintentional intentional wicked talent. But before that could be rectified, before it could be completed, it would have to be ruined. Once you’re long dead, you’ll find the time to apologize to Mother Nature, but as you trek over the last hill, you’re more focused on becoming one with the frozen ground.

The site of your death is far enough away from civilization, near the edge of a tall cliff, so any wandering strangers won’t bother to come too close. Well that’s what you tell yourself, living in hope as per usual; but in reality nothing is stopping another living creature from stumbling across your frozen corpse. The snow is thick, yes, but not thick enough to hide all of you. And the sun is only some hours away from rising. Oh well. It won’t matter anyway. You’ll be passed out by then, icicles hanging from your eyelashes and blue coating the lining of your lips. Your heart will be quiet, weak, in your frozen chest. Your hands will be limp. And the rest of you will be blanketed by the sweet tasty frost of death, creating a home for its festering teeth. Teeth that will bite and gnash and taste and tear - but their attacks will be in vain. You will be numb. So wonderfully, perfectly, fatefully, numb.

And your fingertips, for what it’s worth, are already tingling with the beginnings of it.

The beginnings of it.

‘It’ being your end, of course.

‘It’ being the thing you want. Desperately.

‘It’ being the Fool’s Death you were born to have.

Oh so poetic it was…

Oh so… lovely.

…

You blink suddenly, forcing the chilled tears out of your eyes. Damn wind… so cold… so refreshing… Your knees bend to crouch into the snow, slow and exhausted like the sluggish looking of your eyes. ‘Hello’ the snow grins- beams- smiles so cheerfully up at you, ‘come to see me again, have you? It’s only been a few days. But I have missed you so much. We all have missed you so much.’ And you glance up to take in the ‘we’; the looming trees and the deep blue sky and the twinkling stars and the sweet bright moon, and you nod to yourself. Yes. This is how it is. This is the perfect atmosphere.

This is the glory of a Fool’s Death.

This is the peace of a Fool’s Death.

This is salvation.

No loud men and no flickering fires and no furs and no royals and no company and no messy thoughts and no sleepless nights and no terrifying dreams and no days of forced starvation and no sadness, no sadness, no sadness, no sadness, no sadness, no sadness, no sadness, no sadness, no sadness, no sadness, no hope, no love, no happiness, no reason, no reason, no reason no reason no reason to live live live live live live live- live!

The thin white slip on your body shields you from nothing. Your palms sink into the soft fluff of the ground. Instantly, upon laying down, you’re soaked to the bone. Water finds itself languishing along your body, playing games and laughing while it gathers in your scalp and dances on your fingertips. And the snow, whispering near your ear and beckoning you to salvation, stretches its hands and says ‘Come, dear friend. Come rest here. I am soft. I will give you everything you want.’ So you rest. And you give in. And your body relaxes; your muscles unclench and the tension slides from your shoulders as a sigh bubbles past your lips.

Is it one of relief? One of stress? One of defeat? You’re not sure. You don’t know. Your heart is shuddering- pulsing- with excitement, but it’s a mystery as to why. Death is not supposed to feel good. Death is not supposed to feel powerful. Death is not supposed to feel like you’re finally grabbing life by the balls and saying HAH! THIS IS IT! THIS IS MY MOMENT! THIS IS MY DEATH! MY END! AND YOU CAN NEVER TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME.

… So why does it feel that way?

Why does it feel so good?

…

…The night is quiet. It does not have answers for you. The moon looks on with unblinking eyes. You feel yourself grow heavy.

But the deed is not over yet. There is still one thing left to do. Slowly, the snow falls away as your limbs stir. They move on autopilot, not drawn by the thoughts in your head but again pushed by that faint desire.

Heels digging, nails running blue, curling into the snow, pushing it away - only to drag it back five minutes later; hastily working to complete the masterpiece. Desperate to become one with the Earth and fall into oblivion. A deep, bone-cold, quieting oblivion that will leave you shivering before it leaves you dead. Even beneath the blanket of snow that caresses your skin, that lays over your bare legs, that nuzzles the sensitive parts of your body, you begin to shake. And you begin to think.

The thoughts, interestingly enough, don’t freeze like the rest of you does. Instead, they grow. Swirl like a winter’s storm. Obsessive and rough, they pull you under like they always did.

This is great, isn’t it?

No, you think in response to yourself. It hurts, actually.

Oh stop whining. It will be worth it.

Why? How?

For years, it has been worth it.

That doesn’t answer anything. How has it been worth it? Is that why I’ve been hurting so much? For the sake of worthiness? Or something else?

Well you never felt worthy of anything else.

But I feel worthy of this?

Death? Yes. Everyone is worthy of death. Even The Lord Commander.

…What does she have to do with this?

You know what.

Your hands grasp at the snow, mindless and desperate. Pulling and pulling and pulling - clawing at the crisp white so it can cover you until no part of you is left to the air. Shielding you from the hatred of the universe. From the angry eyes of the gods. From the venom of the men. From the disinterest of the women. From the world… and its lack of care for you. And its lack of positivity. And its rude- disgusting- vile- way of treating you. And its overwhelming desire to kill you before you could kill yourself.

Too late now. We’re at least one foot deep in the ground! This is it. Keep digging. Keep digging. Keep digging! No stopping here! No energy left. Nothing left, actually. Not a goddamn thing. Nothing. Nothing at all.

Nothing at all….

Nothing.

At all.

Your eyelids flutter shut.

—

It’s two hours later when Ser Brienne of Tarth starts to wrap up her last duty of the evening.

A quick patrol of the furthest border is something not necessarily reserved for The Lord Commander, but is more of a safety measure she enforces upon herself before retiring for bed. Exhaustion pulls at her before she sets out, yes, but sometimes the nightmares… the white walkers… they leave her paranoid. Expectant of an attack that will never come. Worried about an enemy that no longer exists. Thus, she does it alone - and with only the royals’ knowledge.

It’s always a quiet affair, drawn along quickly by her and her steed Valour. They work with sharp eyes and a torch through the dark, stopping every few paces to listen for threats. There aren’t any, of course, but that doesn’t stop her from clip-clopping along the terrain with tense shoulders and keen senses, looking through the din of the torch’s fire in her hand. She has to be careful not to set her furs alight, but it’s not a hard task. Keeping it level, shunting it toward the ground and out toward the trees, proves to be more difficult. There’s no use in a flame if it can’t illuminate a damn th-

HUFF.

Valour’s hooves press into the snow, leaving them to stop - suddenly, quickly, with a jerk - as hot breath puffs from her nostrils and curls into the air. She’s tense, Brienne realizes. Tense and alert, with white ears twisting to take in sound. They stand in silence. Blue eyes watch as the animal’s head turns - first to the left and then to the right. But aside from the night and the usual rustle of the world, there is nothing. Nothing to hear, nothing to notice, nothing to fight or defend. Nothing to… find?

With one last sweep of the flame, she catches something quick. It’s nearly unnoticeable. Buried beneath the snow, but not one with the ground. It’s foreign. Out of place. A mere lump with no distinct beginning and end. Brienne chances a glance down at the horse, interest and apprehension dancing through her veins once she sees Valour’s eyes have caught the same thing. The same… intruder. The same issue.

When she slides off of the horse, half expecting to see the thing rise from the ground, one hand shoots to her sword. It waits. Curls around the hilt. Stretches beneath her glove. Twitches with adrenaline.

But there’s nothing. Not even a tremble beneath the dirt.

“Stay,” she whispers to Valour, moving the hand from her blade to gesture, palm facing the ground, for the horse to stand in wait.

And as cautiously, as quietly, as she can, Brienne approaches the mystery. She rounds one of the logs, taking notice of the odd placement, and tries not to wince each time her boots make a small crunch in the silence. Footprints will no doubt be left behind, but that doesn’t seem to bother her much as she catches sight of another pair in the distance. They’re small, the knight notices. With no distinct shape if not for a slight curve. The snow is kicked up, forced from its smooth blanket. Hurried in their demeanor. But slow in the amount of distance between each print.

Human, she thinks.

Human indeed, the snow hums; bearing all to see as it glistens beneath the firelight of her torch and brings Brienne to her unsightly treasure.

Frosted skin. A soaked nightgown. Arms and legs bitten by the chill.

Dead, she thinks.

No. Alive. The snow breathes.

—

Someone is taking off your clothes. They’re cold, sticking to you, and little grunts follow as bits of your nightgown rip with the effort. Your body is shocked, shivering so hard that the stranger can’t keep you still and isn’t quite sure what to do. Eventually, a mind is made up and you’re stripped completely - then covered with woolen hose. At least two pairs- both of which are too big for you and hang by the feet and are quite loose around the waist, but the dresser doesn’t seem to care. Trousers are next. How many pairs? You don’t know. Then shirts. And furs. And even a pair of leather gloves that droop at the fingertips and gape at the wrists - but they’re warm and lined with wool and you can’t feel your body but that’s okay. You didn’t want to anyway. More grunting and growling and small whispered curses follow until you’re very much tucked into a bed far bigger than your own. It’s warm. Good. You’re numb and half-dead, but it’s good. Lovely, really. And the outside world doesn’t call your name as you close your eyes.

Waking up was not on your agenda.

It wasn’t even in the cards.

And you don’t really want to - but the universe never cared for your opinion. And it did what it wanted whenever it wanted anyway. So you have no choice.

Thus, your eyes flutter open and your lungs expand with breath and suddenly the world comes flooding back in one confusing twist of fate. Nausea wastes no time in tearing you down; instantly going to churn in the pit of your stomach and curl in the back of your throat and pound against the skin of your temples. A deep groan slips from between your chapped lips. The lining of your skull feels as though it’s been replaced with cotton.

The snow really took its chance, didn’t it? Brutal. Ruthless. At least the Earth doesn’t lie to you. At least the Earth doesn’t save you.

But someone did. Someone has.

They’re actually shuffling over; measured footsteps sounding like big loud stomps in your head. You close your eyes. Everything is too bright. Everything is too much.

“Morning.”

Hm. The voice sounds familiar. A bit wonky, like it’s far away, but familiar. You don’t have the energy to respond so you just let out a grunt and allow it to taper off into a weird rumbly hum.

“Hey,” there’s a sudden clicking noise near your ear, making you jolt and snort when your eyes flick open. There are fingers - long pale fingers snapping beside your head, falling silent when you glare up at the offender, only to find-

“Lah Commandah?!” Your tongue and throat are stiff and achy, keeping your speech limited and your voice strangled. You grimace at the sound and instantly try to growl the discomfort away, but she cuts you off.

“Don’t do that- you’ll just make it worse.” It comes out in a huff and silences you with ease.

She doesn’t look or seem very happy, which in turn makes you frown. It was a shot straight through the heart when the Lord Commander was in a bad mood - which surprisingly wasn’t always. In fact, she’d grown a little softer over the years. The tales talk of her unwilling attitude and stubborn pride, but sometimes she’s full of wit and humor. And on the best of days, she’ll give the most successful troops a small smile and a bow of her head. The only sign of ‘You did well’ that anyone would ever get from her. You’d never gotten a reaction like that before.

I wonder why she didn’t leave us out in the snow.

“Can you sit up?” Glacier blue eyes run over your face.

You’re not sure what you look like but you suppose it doesn’t matter. She’s seen worse.

��Dun-no, Lah Commandah,” you breathe, trying to do exactly that.

After the fifth try of shifting your arms and legs and quickly running out of strength, she seems to get the hint and suddenly large strong hands are sliding under your arms and tugging you up, then pushing you back. It’s done in one swift movement, leaving you dizzy while you rest your head against the wooden headboard of-… of a bed that certainly isn’t yours.

No, you’re definitely not in your own room. The layout is completely different. It’s more… it’s not pretty but it’s better looking than your own. Complete with greys and blacks and silvers and even a hint of red here and there. The fire that’s been crackling steadily in the background is clean and well-kept, where your room doesn’t even have space for one at all. And the curtains are drawn over the windows covering the right wall, leaving the place shrouded in a darkness that would have existed there anyway even if the curtains were open - it’s nighttime, pitch black outside, and suddenly you’re very much aware of the fact that you’ve kept your Lord Commander- The Brienne of Tarth- out of her own bed for more than a day.

By the time you blink yourself out of your dizzy distracted haze and try to find her form again, she’s already busy doing something else. Wringing out cloths over a bowl… and then returning to your side. Your lips, chapped and still tinged blue, open in an effort to say something- anything- but then a soft hot cloth is draped over your forehead, covering your temples, and suddenly you don’t have a damned thought left in your mind. The feeling is so nice. So blissful. You could stay like that forever.

If only the universe showed you mercy.

“It’s been two days since I found you,” the Lord Commander says, placing the bowl down gently on the side table beside the bed. Her eyes glance over your coverings, making sure the furs and gloves and shirts are all still in order. They are. She was very thorough before. She would not have made a mistake. There was no room for error.

But there’s room now for judgment. Judgment and disdain, and you’re terrified of those things and you really don’t want to have to hear her tell you that you’re a stupid wench and that the rest of the troops will forever make fun of you for your idiocy, so you swallow and wince and your hands twist together in your lap. The leather of the gloves is soft, well-worn, and the wool is only the tiniest bit matted - and you can’t help but admire the craftsmanship as you bring them up to your abdomen. They’re obviously not your gloves, just as everything else is not yours either, but you don’t know what to do first: apologize or thank her.

Honestly, you don’t really want to thank her - because she ruined your plan - but at the same time, she saved your life. Whether you wanted to end it or not doesn’t matter… because she would’ve helped you no matter what. And perhaps you’re selfish for being a little bit angry about it, maybe you’re being self-centered and dumb, but you can’t help the feeling of bitterness creep into your heart. You wanted to die… and she took that from you. She wanted you to live.

It was a duty. She doesn’t want anything. Anyone would have done it.

But that’s not true.

The men would have left you. Or hurt you. Or anything else.

But there she is, having gone through the trouble of saving you… and she’s looking down at you with a frown on her handsome face and a furrow to her light brows that seems like it never leaves and you wish so terribly that you could just tell her-

“I-m sorr-ey.” It’s a pathetic rasp of an apology, but it’s out of your mouth before you can catch it.

She blinks. You don’t know why her expression changes, why it softens into something less stern and concerned, but when it does you feel your breath catch in your throat. How anyone could see her as anything less than glorious is something you’ll never understand.

“Why were you out there.”

It’s a demand.

You look away, baring your eyes to the fire.

“…I sl-leep-wa-lk someti-”

“Bullshit.” She spits, one hand reaching down to curl into the bit of blanket that drapes over the side of the bed. Her expression has twisted back into one of anger. “Don’t you dare lie to me.”

But what other choice do you have?

How could you be honest?

Why did she, of all people, have to find you? And why like that? Why couldn’t she have walked into the bathhouse during the few times you’ve wept your eyes out in the steamy silence? Why couldn’t she have caught you staring at your horse, dread in your eyes as you fantasized about running away and never looking back? Why couldn’t she have stumbled upon your vulnerability when you were still willing to live?

Why did it take a Fool’s Death to finally grasp her attention?

You want to tell the truth… but you can’t.

You can’t.

So you lie again.

“Was out- on a s-strollll. Got- um- lost.” You try not to cringe at the sound of your own bad grammar. Turns out not having full feeling back in your mouth does indeed prohibit being able to speak properly.

The Lord Commander doesn’t seem to care much. In fact, she doesn’t seem to be focusing on that at all. Instead, her face has grown slack - and she’s looking at you hard. Leaning both of her hands on the side of the bed, broad shoulders going up near her neck, eyes peering through light lashes - like she’s using her stare alone to dig holes into your soul and she doesn’t need to say anything in order for you to understand that she simply doesn’t believe you. And why should she? Your lies are so obviously half-baked; only muddying up the truth; ruining what little of it can be said.

Still. She doesn’t let up. Her gaze starts to burn. Shame tugs at your cotton-lined skull. Guilt claws its way to the surface.

Pink lips, scarred on the top right, part slowly. There’s a soft inhale. You brace yourself, clutching your warm hands into fists.

“You were buried,” the Lord Commander says, barely even blinking as she looks at you. “Covered with snow.” She shakes her head and allows it to fall to her chest, letting out a scoff so quiet you had to strain to hear it. “One of the smartest soldiers I have… and you expect me to believe that you got lost on an evening stroll?” Her head comes up, eyes pinning you in place with such dull ferocity that you can’t look away. “You can’t be serious.”

It’s at that exact moment when you realize that you’re sweating. It is the amount of warm things covering your body? The clothing and the furs and the gloves? Or is it your Lord Commander’s attention? And the fact that it’s never been placed on you like that before? With such… such focus. Such- dare you even think it- care?

You swallow against the nervous lump in your throat.

‘One of the smartest soldiers I have…’

Well if you were as smart as she thinks you are, you’d be fucking honest, wouldn’t you? Yeah. You’d tell her the truth. You’d admit that you’re a coward.

But you can’t.

You can’t.

She spends all of that time training you, keeping an eye on you, making sure you’re fed and well-rested and looked after in her own roundabout Lord Commander type of way… and you repay her with…with what?

With suicide?

So disgraceful.

So horrible.

So shitty of you.

How terrible can a person be?

How-

“Are you crying?” Your Lord Commander gapes, certainly caught off guard by your sudden emotion.

“N-no?!” You stutter, just as shocked to find yourself reaching up and smearing salty tears along your cheeks.

Oh how embarrassing-!

You stupid girl!

This is why you wanted to do it in the first place!

Because all you do is just fucking embarrass yourself-!

“N-no? No- s-sorr-y La-Lor-d C-Com-”

“Enough with the Lord Commander,” she admonishes, cutting off your bumbling apology with a swift tsk. “In private, it’s Brienne.” Then she hesitates before letting out a sigh and taking a seat next to you on the side of her bed. “…I’m not your superior here.”

All you can do is blink.

I’m not your superior here.

So what are you?

That’s all you want to ask.

What are you to me then? What is this now?

But even if you did find the courage, you’re not sure what she’d say.

“Okay,” you sniff, trying your damnedest to stop the tears.

But they’re a direct result of your aching heart. And aching hearts have veins that scream in agony, wishing for nothing but silence. Utterly tranquility. The very absence of tension-filled life. And you can’t get rid of aching hearts and screaming veins without getting rid of yourself…. And your only chance to do that was destroyed. Trampled upon. Interrupted.

I just wanted to die. It rests on the very tip of your tongue but never spills out into the air.

Brienne is so clearly unsure of what to do; she’s sitting rigid in her spot and staring at a mark on the floor. You want to tell her it’s okay. You want to tell her that she doesn’t have to comfort you. You want to tell her to just let you go back into the woods again… let you find yourself back in the snow. And she can go on with her life and forget it ever happened.

But you can’t.

That’s not how it works.

That’ll never be how it works.

Foolish girl.

“…Why were you out there, Anya?” Brienne’s voice is softer than fresh lilies.

You know why.

“…I c-can’t- I-”

Her head turns. Midnight blue eyes trace a line from your neck to your face, taking in the exhausted circles beneath your eyes and the blue-ish tinge to your skin and the utterly defeated look that blooms behind your expression. A war happens in you, taking place in the span of a moment, and you can do nothing but blink through lingering tears and stare at her.

“I can’t.” It’s a whisper. A confession all on its own.

I can’t… because you’ll think I’m a coward. And you’ll hate me. And I already hate myself enough for the both of us.

Brienne’s lips form a hard line, but she doesn’t say anything. She just peers back down at the floor and allows silence to creep into the room and lay between you both like a tired direwolf on its last legs.

The fire burns in the background. The sweat on your body cools. The dizziness in your head subsides.

It’s going to be okay, some part of you speaks. It’s going to be okay.

But you’ve told yourself that before, haven’t you?

And look where that got you.

It has to be at least 30 minutes later when Brienne finally speaks.

“There was a girl I knew once, in my early youth,” you watch her mouth move, enchanted and confused. Where was this going to lead? “She was older than me by two years. A pretty girl- like you.” Your heart trips over itself, but you don’t have time to dwell as she continues. “My father saw that, out of the very rare few, she was good to me - and so we were allowed to play often. For her it was ‘horsies’ and ‘hide and seek’, for me it was ‘swords’ and ‘knights’.” There’s a soft smile on her face, half hidden by the natural shadow of her body facing away from the hearth and half lit by the fire that lived there. Her lips twitch and she begins again. “We did everything together. She was a village girl but that didn’t matter… until it did. Time eventually caught up to us and we were forced to live our lives on our own. No more days of play and no more sharing stories.”

A soul-deep sadness settled into her eyes. She had yet to look at you. Maybe because it would make her too vulnerable… maybe because she didn’t want you to cry again. Either way, you felt yourself frown. Why was she telling you this? What happened?

And as if she could read your thoughts, she continues.

“By the time I was old enough to decide that I wanted to leave, she was already married. Kind husband, even though I only met him once. It was when I stopped in to say goodbye. I wanted to tell her that I’d write, whenever I found the time and place to do so.” Her hands, you notice, are fidgeting - running over and pulling each other quietly within her lap. The natural lines in her face grow darker as she falls back into her memories. “…I didn’t know she was struggling. I was so busy with my own life. My father’s wishes, my training, my fights with the men who challenged me… our communication grew slim. So I didn’t- I-… well.” Brienne swallows. “Her husband answered the door and when I asked after her, he burst into hysterics.”

Your heart stops.

She- no… She didn’t….

Brienne’s head goes up, her eyes turning to look at the ceiling - keeping her tears in her eyes, resistant in letting them fall. Resistant in being weak. You want to hold her and let her cry, but you know it’s not the time. She sniffs and her chest heaves with a sigh and it takes everything in you not to start sobbing. Tears build, they fall slowly, but your throat aches with held back sounds of distress.

“…She ended her life two days before I arrived.” A pause. Then- “A butter knife…,” she scoffs out a laugh and shakes her head, still pointing her face skyward - as if the gods have all the answers to her grief. “… I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t know what to do with her husband. So I gave him my condolences and I left. Cried in the woods for as long as I could and kept going. And since then, I haven’t stopped.”

Despite her efforts, tears still creep over her eyelids and race down her cheeks. They mirror the ones on your own face - warm and sad and annoying in the stiff little trails left behind.

And you sit like that for a while, silently crying. Her gaze stuck to the heavens, thinking about the friend she lost; and your gaze stuck on her, thinking about the possible metaphor behind her actions. Behind the full circle-ness of it all. She couldn’t save her friend but she saved you. What did that mean in the grand scheme of your lives? What did any of it mean? How would you continue to train everyday after seeing your Lord Commander cry? After witnessing her care?

She saved us. She saved us. She saved us.

“Thank you,” comes your hoarse whisper- the first in-tact thing you’ve said since waking up.

The sound of your voice tugs Brienne out of her stupor and draws her eyes to your sad face. You don’t have the energy to give her a sympathetic smile, so you settle on a soft look. If it says all you need it to say, she doesn’t show it - but she does look away quickly and reaches up to brush the tears away.

“What for?” It’s rough - hard - a sliver of the tough Commander she’s used to being.

No no no - don’t go back to that. Your heart is safe here. I won’t judge you for your tears.

“…Saving me.” It’s more courtesy than anything as you say that, but it’s fine. You’re not magically going to wish for life again after Brienne shares a sad story with you… though it already has your heart struggling against its achy confines.

Brienne shakes her head, the gold of her hair catching the fire’s light so beautifully that you have to take your eyes off of her in order to catch your breath. If we were her friend in her youth, we would have surely fallen in love with her.

“You shouldn’t have gotten to that point,” her voice is watery- muffled with the lingerings of sadness. “No one should.”

You nod. What else is there to say? What else is there to admit? Clearly she knows. Clearly she understands. And yet… you’re still curious…

“…Why do-n’t you hate me f-or it?” Your words come out in a squeaky whisper, but you don’t care. You just need to know. You just need to make sure that you’re not reading things wrong- that there’s a chance she may actually care- and that perhaps there is a reason to stay…

Brienne doesn’t respond immediately. It’s clear that she takes a few moments to bring herself back to the present. To clear her throat and wipe her eyes again and sniffle a few times and then turn back to you. She’s tried so hard in clearing herself up, but the eyes have never lied. And you see the sadness breeding there. Festering. Sadness is wicked. You don’t know if you’re the cause of it.

“You’re strong, Anya." A pause. "Training wouldn’t be the same without you.”

But you know she means to say Nothing would be the same without you.

---

Something I've been working on for a bit. It's not as good as I hoped it would be, but I'm tired and my back hurts so whatever. I hope you're all doing well.

And if you're not and you need some help, here's the National Suicide Hotline: 988 - And the link https://988lifeline.org/

It's gonna be okay, my friend. One second at a time. - Yours, Rip x

---

#rippersz #fanfictionwriter #fanfic #fanfiction #brienne of tarth #brienne of tarth got #brienne x reader #ser brienne #ser brienne of tarth got #ser brienne of tarth #angsty #angsty fic #mental health issues #mental health problems #mental health issues tw #be safe #I love you #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne of tarth fanfic

199 notes · View notes

mins-fins · 2 months

Text

NCT LIBRARY [ 💌 ] !

💌 NCT 127 ꜜ

skyline highlights! — (series; ongoing)

💌 MOON TAEIL

nothing here yet..

💌 JOHNNY SUH

nothing here yet..

💌 LEE TAEYONG

the course of true love — (long fic; work in progress)

💌 NAKAMOTO YUTA

nothing here yet..

💌 KIM DOYOUNG

nothing here yet..

💌 JEONG JAEHYUN

nothing here yet..

💌 KIM JUNGWOO

nothing here yet..

💌 NCT DREAM ꜜ

1, 2, 3 — (series; ongoing) signed, agent zero — (series; ongoing) sonatine — (long fic; work in progress)

💌 MARK LEE

pearls — (drabble) 20:20 pm — (timestamp) the spiderweb theory — (smau series; work in progress) endless nameless — (smau series; ongoing) there's nothing left for you — (drabble) remember summer days — (long fic; work in progress)

💌 HUANG RENJUN

two slow dancers — (drabble) bygone days — (drabble)

💌 LEE JENO

21:29 pm — (timestamp) operation ἐκλείπω (long fic; work in progress) oh fuck you cupid! — (long fic; work in progress)

💌 LEE DONGHYUCK

where do we go — (drabble) 02:09 am — (timestamp) oh fuck you cupid! — (long fic; work in progress) 06:10 am — (timestamp) june 20th — (drabble) missa solemnis — (drabble) should've been me — (drabble) boyfriend texts (smau oneshot) star — (drabble) haunted — (drabble) alright nancy drew! — (long fic; work in progress) send in the clowns — (long fic; work in progress)

💌 NA JAEMIN

junie — (drabble) you have one new voicemail from! — (oneshot) oh fuck you cupid! — (long fic; work in progress) 00:17 am — (timestamp) express moon — (long fic; work in progress) rose color — (long fic; work in progress)

💌 ZHONG CHENLE

audere est facere — (long fic; work in progress) unapologetically in love — (smau oneshot) you have one new voicemail from! — (oneshot) a day for love — (long fic; work in progress)

💌 PARK JISUNG

orbit of yours — (long fic) sincerely, a lovestruck fool — (long fic; work in progress)

💌 WAYV ꜜ

farewell, neverland — (long fic; work in progress)

💌 QIAN KUN

to the one i call love — (long fic; work in progress)

💌 TEN LEE

boyfriend texts — (smau oneshot) closure — (drabble) parenting chronicles — (long fic; work in progress) not now kitty cat! — (long fic; work in progress) easy there detective — (long fic; work in progress)

💌 DONG SICHENG

pareidolia — (drabble)

💌 XIAO DEJUN

buttercup — (smau series; work in progress) dal segno — (drabble) all flights are delayed — (long fic) r.i.p 2 my youth! — (long fic; work in progress)

💌 HUANG GUANHENG

dancing swords — (long fic; work in progress) r.i.p 2 my youth! — (long fic; work in progress)

💌 LIU YANGYANG

perfect moment — (smau series; work in progress) drop the controller! — (smau series; ongoing) space science — (drabble) delicate — (drabble; work in progress) r.i.p 2 my youth! (long fic; work in progress)

💌 NCT WISH ꜜ

nothing here yet..

#nct #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv #nct wish #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct reactions #nct x reader #nct x male reader #𖠗 :📼: ۫ bookshelf.. !

68 notes · View notes

bam-stroker · 7 months

Text

Dacw 'Nghariad

I shared it in the discord, but here is some Misuta/Fool from @venomous-qwille's Ghost in the Machine story.

The song this was inspired by is MEREDYDD EVANS - DACW 'NGHARIAD. Here are the lyrics translated as well to see.

Y'all are getting my combo love of folk music, sun and moon robots in love, and romance :')

A gentle breeze sighs through the greenery at the edge of the garden. The smell of a spring rain heavy in the air from a storm that had blown through last night. In the creeping early hours of the dawn the world is lush and twinkling with morning dew and lingering rainwater collected in flowers and leaves. The sky slowly illuminating the skyline in pale purples.

With a sweeping gesture Fool drapes himself over the ledge where the garden ends. A spot he had sat in many times now. It surely had the loveliest view of the whole estate. At least when the timing was right.

Tossing back his cape to free his shoulder he lifts his guitar into position - facing his body towards the house. The third floor window open and waiting. He smiles bright to himself. A surge of fond excitement skittering through his wires at the sight.

Softly plucking the strings he begins to play a tune that seemed to sing louder and louder through his mind these days. A lilting lullaby of a love song.

Dacw 'nghariad i lawr yn y berllan,