what the fuck is this bull, tumblr? Don't ruin yourselves with ads. If this carries on I will be off this site... what a damn shame.
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@saffiyres
what the fuck is this bull, tumblr? Don't ruin yourselves with ads. If this carries on I will be off this site... what a damn shame.

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Being blocked during a chat that has been going on for at least two weeks for no reason and then being referred to as a 'sock puppet' wtf that means sucks. please at least tell people so they can save posts. You realise that if you block a person, they can't access /any/ of the replies you have written to the posts you do together?
The Corinthian is probably one of the creepiest characters ever! While probably the point, he really does give me the shudders...
Lyta's story with her husband is heartbreaking; I really like how this show plays with all the emotions, not just doom, death, despair and the like. I can't wait to see where this goes!
I keep thinking about some of the underlying, briefly mentioned things, in Yuri! On Ice. Like Victor's drinking, that Yuri Plisetsky seems to have been brought up by his grandpa, and Yuuri Katsuki appears to have a very selective memory. None of these are enriched on in the show, and I am curious as to whether they had expected to expand on it in season 2. They built all these amazing bits of characters and did nothing with them.
From the bits of research I have done on ice skating, its quite accepted for skaters to take pills aside training due to the pain it can cause, how would that affect Victor's drinking? Yuuri's during that after-party? How does Yuri Plisetsky cope dealing with all that as he gets older? The slow burn of his friendship (relationship?) with Otabek Altin... There is much I want to know!
@saffiyresâ
He had been about to pull away when Thomasâ hand reached and joined his own on Thomasâ shoulder, and the Captain blinked at Thomas, a little bit surprised. Maybe he should have pulled away, but he hadnât the strength to, somehow Thomasâ nearness was drawing him in.
âWhy-â the Captain swallowed the dryness in his throat and tried again to talk, his voice pitched just as quietly as Thomasâ was, giving him time to change his mind on his answer. âI would like that,â he said, instead, not wanting to ask the question that came into his mind.
âAs would I.â Thomasâ eyes drifted half closed, a touch-starved part of him soothed by the Captainâs closeness. Heâd lost track of how long it had been since someone had simply touched him; warm and lingering, and without ulterior motive.
âBut that is an adventure for tomorrow, after the wedding.â He yawned, turning his face against the pillow to (more or less!) hide it. A token politeness, since he didnât want to let go of the Captainâs hand.
âIt does sound rather nice, though⌠Rather⌠niceâŚâ
And, unaware that the Captain had omitted his original question, Thomas drifted off to sleep.
Morning came in a haze of soft light and general clattering down below in the main part of the house. The Captainâs eyes sleepily peeled open, as he realised he must have fallen asleep. He shifted carefully, the weight against him reminding that last night had happened, that he had shared a room with Thomas, yet most strange of all, it hadnât ended in disaster.
/Curiouser and curiouser,/ he turned his head to watch as Thomas slept.
It took a while for him to really waken, and remember his routine, which, as he looked at the clock, he had already vastly upset, but he could blame that on Thorne. On being messed around with the rooms. No one would blink twice that he was snarking about Thomas; it would be more strange if he didnât.
âThomas,â the Captainâs voice was only just over a whisper, âare you awake?â

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After a very long day at the hospital with my partner, I can't stress enough the importance of checking medication ingredients when you are prescribed something new no matter what the reason. My partner will be fine but it gave us a scare.
To that end I'm going to be looking for some light hearted rp. Romance is optional, but something that isn't too angst heavy.
Also
Wishlist: These two would be very fun to write together.
wishlist: an rp focusing on these two brooding beans. I don't mind if they are a ship or just acquaintances/friends/whatever but I am here for it!
I just watched ep 6 of The Sandman, and I did not expect to be ugly crying over this. Death (ala Thanatos??) was amazing, the relationship between Dream and her is so much softer than I would expect... beautiful directing and the music was lovely. Excuse me whilst I go cry now.
@saffiyresâ
âMore softness in the world cannot be a bad thing,â The Captain shifted so he could watch the way Thomasâ face changed as he spoke. âI thought at times in the war; a little more would not go amiss.â maybe, he thought, such a war would have never been if more men were like Thomas.
The Captainâs hand reached and touched Thomasâ shoulder, âin times of hardship, I seem to see that men like fantasy and beauty, even if it is not as it appears. The truth can be ugly, and I find there is so much that is ugly in the world. Maybe it is easier to believe a dream of beauty than the terrible truth.â
âI wish I had spent more time reading, when I was alive I hadnât the patience for it, I found other things to distract me.â
How strange that a fool who had died alone, unloved and tricked, should find himself here in death. Unexpectedly comfortable in bed with a⌠friend. Anchored in his skin by the weight of the hand on his shoulder, a ghostly warmth through the brocade of his waistcoat. Â
Soft. Â
âIâd thought it was quite an embarrassing thing when I was alive, and yet? Death has perhaps given me perspective on the matter.â With his cheek still pressed against the pillow, and dark curls flopping defiantly across his brow, Thomas reached up and folded his hand over the Captainâs, holding it to his shoulder for another moment.
He felt thin beneath the thick, structured fabric, with light, knobbly bones that would have made him a poor soldier.  âI heard Mike speaking of something called an audio book. A novel in the form of recorded music, I believe. As neither of us can turn pages in proper books, perhapsâŚâ Â
Thomasâ fingers twitched, not quite fidgeting, but close, against the back of the Captainâs hand.  âWe could find a book to listen to that interested us both?â
He had been about to pull away when Thomasâ hand reached and joined his own on Thomasâ shoulder, and the Captain blinked at Thomas, a little bit surprised. Maybe he should have pulled away, but he hadnât the strength to, somehow Thomasâ nearness was drawing him in.
âWhy-â the Captain swallowed the dryness in his throat and tried again to talk, his voice pitched just as quietly as Thomasâ was, giving him time to change his mind on his answer. âI would like that,â he said, instead, not wanting to ask the question that came into his mind.

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@saffiyresâ
The Captain had been very fond of his mother, but he had always thought himself to be much more like his father, which was no bad thing. âNo no, Iâm my fatherâs son, my mother always used to say.â Death hadnât taken memory away, for which he was grateful. âShe was a good lady, though. A nurse in her time, you know. Quite well respected and didnât take any balderdash or jiggery from any one.â
âTommy is quite nice, a bit softer than Thomas,â The Captain either didnât notice, or didnât react when Thomas moved a bit closer, it was maybe more true to say that he didnât mind; the contact was comforting even as strange as it was, when one could not touch the living or the living things.
âWell, it suits the moment I must say. Do you know many poems like that which you can just rattle off?â
With his back to the window, Thomas couldnât see the way the sky had finally darkened to black, or the stars that were picking themselves out in the summer night. But he could hear the sounds from elsewhere in the house begin to take on that slower, sleepier edge, as the guests began to settle in for bed.
âMm, softer, yes. Perhaps thatâs why I liked it. Quite unfitting for a gentleman, of course, but it was a name of my ownâ one I didnât have to grow into, which came with no weight of expectation.â
No invisible, ever-changing hurdles to jump, and nobody who would be disappointed when he didnât live up to them.
âOf course!â Thomas cracked a smile, his cheek pressed against the pillow and giving him a lopsided look.  âI read voraciously in life, and Iâve tried to commit as much to memory as I can, now that turning pages is beyond me.â
âItâs the most appalling thing that everyone speaks of that rake, Byron! As if his poetry was God-blessed to endure the test of time. They talk about him now like he was some dashing romantic hero, instead of a cad, and a great manchild.â
âMore softness in the world cannot be a bad thing,â The Captain shifted so he could watch the way Thomasâ face changed as he spoke. âI thought at times in the war; a little more would not go amiss.â maybe, he thought, such a war would have never been if more men were like Thomas.
The Captainâs hand reached and touched Thomasâ shoulder, âin times of hardship, I seem to see that men like fantasy and beauty, even if it is not as it appears. The truth can be ugly, and I find there is so much that is ugly in the world. Maybe it is easier to believe a dream of beauty than the terrible truth.â
âI wish I had spent more time reading, when I was alive I hadnât the patience for it, I found other things to distract me.â
My sister has been staying the last week and decided to introduce me to all her favourite shows/films. There have been one or two odd choices, but the ones I liked that we have watched are Sandman (eps 1 and 2), The Rings of Power, the Wheel of Time (ep 1) Yuri on Ice (eps 1-3) and the very first episode of Fruits Baskets (oml this is the squishiest!). My head is exploding with the potential of muses! No named yet for any of them, but there are ocs forming in my head!
@saffiyresâ
Thomasâ little expressions were rather darling, if the Captain was honest, but he didnât know why. It was madness, and strangeness that made no sense to such a proper fellow. What a peculiar night this had become! All thanks to Alison. Still, he couldnât find it in himself to be too mad. Heâd learned that Thomas wasnât all pomp and poetry as well.
âShe used to call me her little Evie, when I was quite small.â The Captain didnât sound nearly as upset by it as he thought he ought to be. His lips stayed up in that smallest of smiles, the vague memories he had of his mother very fond. âYou would like her. She was quite scandalous for her time! Marrying my father who was younger than her by five years, a fact she never let him forget!â He laughed, warmly.
âThatâs lovely verse; is it your own? Or a fellow poet?â He was clueless on the literary arts, and he didnât mind admitting it. âI am sure your father was quite proud of you, even if he had not the words to say so.â
âI can hardly imagine you as a child!â Slowly, Thomas made himself more comfortable again, curling onto his side, unconsciously just a bit closer to the Captain. Erasing some of the polite space that theyâd been keeping between themselves. Â
âYouâre right, I think I should have liked her very much. Do you think you have much of her in you? I think perhaps you do, deep down.â Maybe so deep that even the Captain had forgotten it was there. That could happen, in war. And in death.
And God knew the Captain had had more than enough of both.
âMy sisterâs called me Tommy, which I rather liked. Even my nieces and nephews picked it up from them; of course, that might be because it was easier than calling me Uncle Thomas.â Â
Thomas shook his head, his expression bemused by the question, âI could only wish! No, a quote from that author, Evelyn⌠Evelyn⌠oh, what was his name? Waugh? I believe.â
The Captain had been very fond of his mother, but he had always thought himself to be much more like his father, which was no bad thing. âNo no, Iâm my fatherâs son, my mother always used to say.â Death hadnât taken memory away, for which he was grateful. âShe was a good lady, though. A nurse in her time, you know. Quite well respected and didnât take any balderdash or jiggery from any one.â
âTommy is quite nice, a bit softer than Thomas,â The Captain either didnât notice, or didnât react when Thomas moved a bit closer, it was maybe more true to say that he didnât mind; the contact was comforting even as strange as it was, when one could not touch the living or the living things.
âWell, it suits the moment I must say. Do you know many poems like that which you can just rattle off?â
@saffiyresâ
â I wonder at times if my father did not choose my name out of spite⌠ah.â The Captain quirked a smile at the corner of his lips, and cast a look at Thomas, âLeonard Evelyn. If you must know. My mother was quite sure she would not have a second child, and so they burdened me with the name that she wished a daughter to have.â He didnât mind it as much as he should have, not as much as he was saying he did, at any rate. âIf you tell my secret, Thomas, I shall not forgive you so easily.â the Captain did not think he needed to say who /they/ were.
If only he could understand why Thomas kept looking at him with that strange face. It was curious and he didnât understand, but the Captain would not ask! He would not; that would be too silly. He was imagining it.
âIt rolls off the tongue well, I think,â it did - and it strangely suited Thomas. âAll very sensible choices, those names of yours, your father sounds like a sensible fellow.â
âMy father was infinitely sensible. Itâs probably why we didnât get on; what he knew of art, and literature and beauty could fit in a thimble and still have space to spare.â Thomas rolled his eyes with the sort of long-suffering sigh that doesnât really have any heat in it, not anymore. More of a familiar old track of exasperation. Â
Sometimes he missed his father. But most the time Thomas didnât think about him at all.
âBut Evelyn, thatâs a lovely name! One of the former occupants of the houseâ just a little before your time, in factâ used to read an author by that name!â Thomas shuffled up the bed a bit, half propping himself on an elbow, as he tried to remember a bit of the elegant prose.  âI used to read over his shoulder, and he was so very slow! And half the time heâd get bored and leave the book unfinished. It was truly maddening!â
Oh, but for a little better memory! Death should have come with one.
âSometimes, I feel the past and the future pressing so hard on either side that thereâs no room for the present at all.â
Thomas' little expressions were rather darling, if the Captain was honest, but he didnât know why. It was madness, and strangeness that made no sense to such a proper fellow. What a peculiar night this had become! All thanks to Alison. Still, he couldnât find it in himself to be too mad. Heâd learned that Thomas wasnât all pomp and poetry as well.
âShe used to call me her little Evie, when I was quite small.â The Captain didnât sound nearly as upset by it as he thought he ought to be. His lips stayed up in that smallest of smiles, the vague memories he had of his mother very fond. âYou would like her. She was quite scandalous for her time! Marrying my father who was younger than her by five years, a fact she never let him forget!â He laughed, warmly.
âThatâs lovely verse; is it your own? Or a fellow poet?â He was clueless on the literary arts, and he didnât mind admitting it. âI am sure your father was quite proud of you, even if he had not the words to say so.â
@saffiyresâ
âI think that without the two of you as you are at times, we would all be very bored,â The Captain could not think of a time without Thomas and Kitty in his afterlife, and he didnât wish to know what it might be like. Selfishly, he hoped they would not get âsucked offâ before he himself did - if that ever happened to happen at all.
The war had meant that soldiers often had to sleep in close arrangements, and if the Captain had not himself dealt with some of the poorer situations, he had had it drilled to his brain that he must not complain, that he must accept whatever circumstance fell to him. Even if he would never say the words, sharing a bed with Thomas Thorne was not as terrible as the idea had first appeared.
It was odd, very odd, to have Thomas defending his name, but it was a good odd, the Captain decided, a small smile on his lips. âI am flattered that you find my name of such high praise; I was named for my grandfather also, I have his middle name.â
âLord Thorne does not suit you, if youâll mind me saying so.â It was too stuffy a name for one like Thomas, who was too alive in death to ever seat upon a stuffy title. âI much prefer Thomas. Just Thomas.â
âNames are a strange thingâŚâ Thomas trailed off thoughtfully, pulling the cuff of his voluminous sleeve straight. Theyâd constantly come unbuttoned in life, and it seemed like in death they had the same irksome habit.  âOne of the few things we take with us to the grave with us unchanged.â
âYou must indulge my curiousity, then! What is your middle name?â
From the corner of his eye, he watched the Captainâs small smile, tracing the shallow curve of it with a quiet pang of longing. He didnât want it! This urge to reach over and touch his hand, or to rest his head against the broad plane of his chest⌠But the longer they lay there, the more difficult it became to ignore the temptation.
Foolish heart. It was only going to get itself hurt.
âNo it doesnât, does it?â Thomas gave himself a shake, and threaded his fingers together over his stomach, anchoring them in place, and quirked a smile of his own.  âThomas Christopher Alexander James Thorne, esquire. Itâs quite a mouthful, donât you think? It always felt a bit too grand and big for me, like I had to grow into it.â
â I wonder at times if my father did not choose my name out of spite⌠ah.â The Captain quirked a smile at the corner of his lips, and cast a look at Thomas, âLeonard Evelyn. If you must know. My mother was quite sure she would not have a second child, and so they burdened me with the name that she wished a daughter to have.â He didnât mind it as much as he should have, not as much as he was saying he did, at any rate. âIf you tell my secret, Thomas, I shall not forgive you so easily.â the Captain did not think he needed to say who /they/ were.
If only he could understand why Thomas kept looking at him with that strange face. It was curious and he didnât understand, but the Captain would not ask! He would not; that would be too silly. He was imagining it.
âIt rolls off the tongue well, I think,â it did - and it strangely suited Thomas. âAll very sensible choices, those names of yours, your father sounds like a sensible fellow.â

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@saffiyresâ
The Captain didnât mind the fussing or fiddling. There was much stillness in death, and Thomasâ restlessness was refreshing. âKitty is a wonder, as is her endless joy,â and she knew how to make them feel alive again, to find the small joys in their afterlives. The Captain was quite fond of her, truly.
âFanny could never lose her fire if she tried,â The Captain smiled; he found her to be a charming, if not fierce, lady, and he was protective of her, though he wouldnât dare say so. âShe can get quite uppity when she puts her mind to it, as you well know.â
âYou better not. Canât have them yelling it about like any old tosh. A man has a reputation! I thought it a dull thing when I was alive, but I would like to think that itâs quite a respectable name now.â It was odd how death had changed his thoughts, but maybe not too odd, if he thought over it hard enough.
âHaving her about the house is a great comfortâ sheâs a little older than I am, but she understands the world I lived in. Perhaps itâs why she feels so much like a sister after all these years.â They both seemed a bit too enthusiastic by modern standards, a bit too dramatic and fond of their flourishes. But that had been the norm, once upon a time. Once upon their time.
Part of Thomas (most of him, really) was grateful that the Captain hadnât decided to put a bolster down the middle of the bed. It was unexpectedly nice to have him there, the warmth of his foot resting against Thomasâ, like an innocent and unacknowledged point of human contact.
It was easy to miss such things when you were dead, and couldnât touch the world.
âFar from dull, sir!â Thomasâ voice pitched a little, teasing, as he defended his name against him, âMatthew was the most important of the Gospels. Itâs a book of hope, and new beginnings, and faith⌠Not such a bad thing to be named for.â
âI was named for my paternal grandfather, which is all very traditional.â He made a show of rolling his dark eyes, âMy father was very fond of the idea that I would be Lord Thorne one day. Of course-â He shrugged, waving a slender hand in the air like he could shoo away the memory, âIt didnât happen.â
âI think that without the two of you as you are at times, we would all be very bored,â The Captain could not think of a time without Thomas and Kitty in his afterlife, and he didnât wish to know what it might be like. Selfishly, he hoped they would not get âsucked offâ before he himself did - if that ever happened to happen at all.
The war had meant that soldiers often had to sleep in close arrangements, and if the Captain had not himself dealt with some of the poorer situations, he had had it drilled to his brain that he must not complain, that he must accept whatever circumstance fell to him. Even if he would never say the words, sharing a bed with Thomas Thorne was not as terrible as the idea had first appeared.
It was odd, very odd, to have Thomas defending his name, but it was a good odd, the Captain decided, a small smile on his lips. âI am flattered that you find my name of such high praise; I was named for my grandfather also, I have his middle name.â
âLord Thorne does not suit you, if youâll mind me saying so.â It was too stuffy a name for one like Thomas, who was too alive in death to ever seat upon a stuffy title. âI much prefer Thomas. Just Thomas.â
@saffiyresâ
âYou may well be correct,â The Captain watched as Thomasâ eyebrows disappeared, and fleetingly wondered how it might feel to brush aside his fringe, before thinking better of the thought altogether. âNow you have me curious,â he could not help but tease, âwho else you find beautiful in the house⌠dear Fanny, maybe? Or Kitty? I seem to see you two whispering together.â He didnât, often, but it felt fun to tease, and it brought about a light-hearted note to a thought that could grow and fester into a dark thing if they let it.
He gently poked at Thomasâ foot with his own. âI think you are made of sterner stuff than that, Thomas,â for some unnamed reason, being called /Captain/ didnât sit well, not in these circumstances. It was not, perhaps, quite right of him, but, âyou may call me Matthew,â he allowed, the name slipping from his lips for the first time since his death. âIt was my name, before my death.â
Even comfortably stretched out on the bed, Thomas didnât lie particularly still. He shifted, curling onto his side and then onto his back, hands folded over his stomach, or arm pillowed under his head. He didnât seem uncomfortable, or tense beside the Captain, eitherâ
Just someone quietly and perpetually fidgeting. Restless hands, and all that.
âI find many people beautiful!â Maybe the dead werenât supposed to flush, but Thomasâ cheeks turned pink all the same.  âOne may find beauty in many things, without being attracted to them.. well, romantically!â But he didnât get up, or try to put any space between themâ in fact, he looked like he was trying not to smile.
âKitty is beautiful, of course. I love as her as dearly as I did my own sisters! When sheâs happy, sheâs so completely abandoned to her joy, and wishes nothing more than to share it with all of us. We could learn a few wise lessons from her example.â
âI wish you could have seen Fanny before she married that lout. She was incandescently brilliantâ but marriage dulled much of her fire. Still! It seems like sheâs rediscovering some of it. Being around Alison and her modern sensibilities has been quite eye-opening.â
And thereâs you. There was you from the moment you walked into the house, desperate to be of service, and respected for it.
For a heartbeat (or as long as he remembered a heartbeat to be) Thomas looked up at the Captain, his mouth soft and caught between words, and a funny little flip in his chest.
âMatthewâŚâ He murmured the name like it was something precious, and shifted his foot to rest against the Captainâs, instead of poking him again.  âIt suits you. But I promise, I wonât breathe a word of it to the others.â
The Captain didnât mind the fussing or fiddling. There was much stillness in death, and Thomasâ restlessness was refreshing. âKitty is a wonder, as is her endless joy,â and she knew how to make them feel alive again, to find the small joys in their afterlives. The Captain was quite fond of her, truly.
âFanny could never lose her fire if she tried,â The Captain smiled; he found her to be a charming, if not fierce, lady, and he was protective of her, though he wouldnât dare say so. âShe can get quite uppity when she puts her mind to it, as you well know.â
âYou better not. Canât have them yelling it about like any old tosh. A man has a reputation! I thought it a dull thing when I was alive, but I would like to think that itâs quite a respectable name now.â It was odd how death had changed his thoughts, but maybe not too odd, if he thought over it hard enough.