#fuckity fucking fuck nothing ever goes my way

[napoleon-usher]

.

#fuckity fucking fuck nothing ever goes my way #🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠 #hey siri how do i not take every rejection as an indication of absolute personal worthlessness 🤔 #also hey siri how do i eliminate the maladjusted coping mechanism of wanting to fucking d** everytime i face a failure whether big or small #yeah yeah i know: therapy #i am nothing if not living in a shame fucking based existence #is it bad that im more embarrassed about having to tell people about my failure than the fact that i didnt get it?? #any of y’all come from money cause im broke af and apparently no one wants to hire me /hj #any way pay no attention to the tumblr user having a breakdown in the corner on main #sign that says ‘zero days since i openly sobbed’ #i shall be fine i just need to punch some shit and them go back to my willful ignorance of my own problems #btw in these trying times every kind comment on my gifsets mean even more and make me so happy so thank y’all for saying such nice things #to put a positive spin on it ive finally had my first cry in the new apartment so that’s something #tw negativity #(just in case) #riah.txt

[cyraclove]

posting my wips that I’ll probably never get around to writing to free myself of them part 1

untitled high school musical (not the movie) au

“I got it! I got it!”

Eddie turns his head to see Dustin bounding into the black box, a delirious smile on his face. He skids to a stop right in front of the table, chest heaving as he rests his hands on his knees.

“I got it,” he wheezes. “I got…I got it.”

Crossing toward Dustin, Eddie grins as he crouches down to look up at him.

“Breathe, dickhead. You got what? The clap? Heard that’s making the rounds.”

Dustin snorts, coughing out a laugh.

“No, asshole,” he says. “I got the part. I’m Seymour.”

Eddie stands to hook an arm around Dustin’s neck, tugging him into his side as he pulls the brim of his cap over his eyes. Dustin cackles wildly.

“Fuck yeah, you are,” Eddie beams, holding Dustin in a headlock while he tries to wriggle free. “That’s fucking amazing, man.”

Dustin’s hat falls to the floor as he manages to slip out of Eddie’s grip. He shoots him another toothy smile before pulling him into a hug.

“Congrats, kid,” Eddie says as he claps him on the back. “And you thought you bombed that audition.”

“Shit, I really did,” Dustin says, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe it. Freshmen never get cast in lead roles.”

A familiar voice comes from the other side of the room.

“They do if they’re right for the part.”

Ms. Shapiro stands in the doorway leading into her office, leaning against the doorframe. A willowy woman fond of flowy scarves and big banana clips, she’s hard to miss.

She peers at Eddie through her green-rimmed glasses as he stares down at his feet, silently hoping that she hasn’t graded his tech theatre exam yet.

The look that she’s giving him tells him that she probably has.

“Thank you so much, Ms. Shapiro,” Dustin grins. “This is, like, a dream role for me. Oh, man. I just…you have no idea.”

“Don’t thank me,” Ms. Shapiro replies with a soft smile. “You gave a great audition. We’re lucky to have you.”

Dustin grins even wider, still flushed and starry-eyed.

There’s a warm tug inside of Eddie’s chest. Precious little bastard. He’s not sure he’s ever seen him this happy, not even after winning a campaign.

“You can come by and pick up your script and libretto whenever you want,” Ms. Shapiro tells Dustin. “First rehearsal is Monday right after last period.”

Nodding, Dustin hoists his backpack onto his shoulder.

“I gotta go call Steve,” he says, turning to Eddie, “but then I’ll be right back to play.”

“Hey, no rush,” Eddie assures him with a lazy wave. “I’m still settin’ up. Go bask in it, Streisand.”

Eddie crosses his arms as he leans against the table, chuckling to himself as Dustin all but sprints out into the hallway.

He and Ms. Shapiro exchange glances.

Expecting her to disappear back into her office, Eddie goes back to busying himself with getting ready for that afternoon’s game. He dares a peek in her direction out of the corner of his eyes.

She’s still there. Just staring at him.

“Sorry for the, uh, noise,” Eddie says with a sheepish chuckle. “Kid just got excited. Dreams coming true and all that.”

Ms. Shapiro hums in agreement but stays right where she is.

“You won’t hear another peep out of me,” Eddie continues, pulling an invisible zipper across his lips. “I mean, uh, until everyone else gets here.”

“I was hoping to have a word with you, actually,” Ms. Shapiro says. “Got a minute?”

Panic crawls down the nape of Eddie’s neck.

“Uh, sure,” he answers, nothing in his head but Fuck Fuck Fuckity Fuck. “What’s up?”

Ms. Shapiro walks briefly back into her office to take something off of her desk before making her way over to Eddie. She pulls out a chair and takes a seat, placing a crumpled sheet of paper on the table in front of her.

“I have your last exam right here,” she says calmly, sliding it towards him. “I have to say I’m surprised that you even showed up to take it, considering that I’ve marked you absent for almost every class this year.”

Eddie’s heart drops into his stomach as he looks down at the exam, a big, fat 27 glaring up at him in red pen. He huffs a laugh, running a hand across the back of his neck.

“I really tanked that one, huh?”

Ms. Shapiro cuts her eyes in his direction.

“Yes. You did.”

She sighs, sitting back against her chair.

“Look, I know that my class is the last period of your day. You’re a senior. And it’s a class that you don’t really care about.”

Guilt sticks in Eddie’s gut like a knife.

“I never said that I don’t—“

“But unless you’d like to be a senior again,” Ms. Shapiro interrupts pointedly, “you have to pass.”

He’d been busting his ass cramming for O’Donnell’s exam that he completely forgot about Shapiro’s. Eddie had walked into her class that day without so much as a pencil.

Eddie’s shoulders slump as he flops into the chair across from her, his face buried into his hands.

“Yeah, I know,” he mumbles. “Fuck.”

Ms. Shapiro clears her throat.

“Sorry. Shit.”

“Listen, Eddie. I like you. You’re a bright kid and I don’t want to see you stuck here another year,” Ms. Shapiro starts. “But we just don’t have a lot of time left in the school year, so you don’t have very many opportunities left to make this up.”

She absentmindedly toys with one of the figurines on the table. Eddie clenches his jaw as he resists the urge to snatch it from her hand.

“That’s why I have another option for you,” Ms. Shapiro starts. “Something you can do to fix your grade.”

Eddie studies her closely, eyes narrowing. “Like…extra credit?”

“Sure.”

“What exactly are we taking about, here?”

“I only had three men show up to audition for Little Shop of Horrors,” she explains. “Three. The only one worth listening to was Dustin.”

Ms. Shapiro pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose before tenting her fingers in front of her.

“I had no choice but to cast the other two, but there are four male roles. I’m short one.”

They stare at each other. Eddie’s stomach drops.

“No. No. Nope, not me,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “You’ve got the wrong guy. There’s no way in hell I’m doing a musical. I don’t sing.”

“You’re in a band, right?”

“I play guitar!”

“Oh. Well, it’s really just talk-singing, anyway.”

“I don’t act!”

“Give me a break,” Ms. Shapiro laughs. “I hear you in here, Eddie.”

“This is dif—“

“This,” Ms. Shapiro cuts in, sweeping her hand over the table, “is acting. And you’re good at it.”

Eddie rakes an anxious hand through his hair.

“Ms. Shapiro, I will do anything,” Eddie pleads, “anything else. You don’t…you don’t want me in your show. Trust me. I’ll f—muck it up.”

“I doubt that.”

Groaning, Eddie runs a hand over his face.

“Please. Don’t make me do this.”

“I’m not,” Ms. Shapiro clarifies. “I’m simply giving you an option. It’s this—a guaranteed A in my class—or a failing grade.”

“Are you even allowed to do this? Is this illegal? It feels a little illegal.”

“Like you said, it’s just like extra credit. A lot of extra credit. I’m perfectly within my right to give my students opportunities to improve their grades.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. The last thing he wants is to rot in this pit-stained cesspool for another year because of his grade in an elective.

A fucking musical, though. A singing, dancing, jazz hands-ing onstage spectacle. What better way to draw the unwanted attention of a bunch of brain dead meatheads than to step into a literal spotlight and make an idiot out of himself?

“Ms. Shapiro—“

“Hang on a second,” she says, cutting Eddie off as she goes to stand.

Eddie watches as she rummages around on her desk for something before walking back over to the table. She holds out another sheet of paper, thankfully not a second failed exam.

“What’s this?”

“I thought you might like to look at the cast list before you make your decision,” Ms. Shapiro answers, an unsettlingly pleased smile on her face.

Cocking a brow, Eddie takes it from her.

“I don’t know who else I’d know besides Henderson, but o—“

Eddie chokes on a breath as he stares down at the list, an all too familiar name typed out right beneath Dustin’s. His pulse pounds at his temples, the paper shaking a bit in his hands as he reads it over and over again.

Chrissy Cunningham.

Looking up at Ms. Shapiro, Eddie opens his mouth but no words come out, his tongue like a wet piece of cardboard. He swallows hard.

“I was surprised to see her at auditions,” Ms. Shapiro says as she takes the cast list back from Eddie. “I knew she’d be perfect for Audrey the second she walked in, though.”

Eddie’s blood rushes in his ears, his brain a useless pile of goo. He suddenly finds himself looking down at a thick libretto with the name Orin Scrivello scribbled across the top in black sharpie.

“Totally up to you,” Ms. Shapiro chirps, offering him the book.

After a beat, he takes it from her. It’s like being handed a hammer so that he can pound the final nail into his own coffin.

God, he’s so fucked.

“When’d did you say the first rehearsal is?”

#hellcheer #cyraclove writes #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #stranger things #eddie munson #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #chrissy cunningham #little shop of horrors #I’ll never write this but it lives in my head

[takenbyheartstrings]

Project Parker | peter parker.

part one: IN YOUR EYES || series masterlist

[ enemies! peter parker x fem!reader || warnings. fluff & swearing, sexual innuendo || wc.  ]

a/n. WELCOME TO MY NEW SERIES <3 i hope you enjoy reading this!!

YOU WERE SAT AT YOUR desk in class as MJ wrote in her notebook. She looked over at you, as you looked over at Peter Parker to which she was having a staring contest with as he walked through the door, he flashed her a smirk, “Y/n! Looking great today, I just love it when people embrace their flaws.” He chuckles before going to sit down, you hold your foot out as the boy trips, looking at you with a slight fire to his gaze.

You chuckled, “Oops,” You pouted your lips giving him a sorry look, but it wasn’t true. You didn’t like Peter and he didn’t like you. You don’t know when you started hating Peter. Maybe it was when he started being better than you at certain things. When you got bumped down to second in the class?

Your teacher coughs trying to get the classes gaze away from you and Peter, “Okay, we’re doing a science project!” She smiles cheerily, “Now, this is going to be different this time, I’m partnering you up,” The whole class groans angrily.

“Don’t expect me to be lenient either, okay,” Miss Grundle claps her hands together, “Uh first up we have Flash Thompson and Ned Leeds.” Ned looks like he could just about shit himself.

“Michelle Jones and Harrison Osborn.” Harry smiles and winks as Michelle rolls her eyes even if she has the slightest of crushes.

The teacher reads through the rest of the names and then you notice that everyone has paired up except for you and one other person your eyes meet Peter’s like they did at the beginning of the class. “NO!” You practically scream, “No! No! NO!”

“Miss Grundle!” MJ speaks up, “It’s really not a good idea, she hates him and he hates her. I don’t know if you’ve picked up on that.”

Peter smirks, “Am I really that repulsive?” he asks nobody in-particular, “But if it’s any consultation, Miss Grundle, I say ‘No! No! NO!’ too.” He mocks your voice.

You roll your eyes, and open your mouth but Miss Grundle interrupts, “No, no’s.” She hisses, “You guys are partners, this is your problem now.”

The two of you had to discuss the project, but you sat there drawing and he sat there staring at the clock waiting for the godawful task to be over. But you couldn’t wait out the awkward silence anymore. The two of you had to discuss something otherwise the you would fail.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you asked Peter suddenly.

His eyes went wide at your choice of words, “Woah! Okay, uh…” You chuckled at the way he was flustered.

“What? Can’t handle the word fuck?” You questioned him getting in close, whispering the word in his ear, “Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.” You spoke as his cheeks went a deep crimson red.

“No, no! I just-” The poor boy cuts himself off, “Let’s just focus on the project. Did you have any ideas?”

You blew a raspberry and you rolled your eyes, “No.”

He grins, his smile full of that sarcasm that you just loved, “Keep rolling your eyes and maybe, just maybe you’ll find a brain back there. I can’t make any promises though,”

You go to roll your eyes once more, but you catch yourself in the act, “Whatever,” You mumbled, “Maybe we could take something simple and put a twist on it. I mean, it is science, we can mix whatever we want and make an explosion.”

Peter looks at you thoughtfully, “I don’t think that’s how it-”

The bell cuts him off and as he goes to continue what he was going to say, so does your voice, “Look, Parker, we’ll go to the library after school,”

The boy sighs, hating himself for what he’s about to offer, “Why don’t you come over?” He asks you, “My place is closer than the library. That’s like a forty minute walk, fifteen minute drive. Mine’s only a five minute walk away.”

You stand up and made your way toward the door, stopping before you could exit, “If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like you’re trying to get me in bed.” And with that you finally left the room, leaving Peter to blush once more.

At the end of the day you met Peter by his locker, you got stares but you waved them off, he opened his locker and you were met with the sight of a little lego man, a whiteboard and a whole load of notebooks and like three backpacks. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything. You just observed. Peter finally shut his locker, and swung his backpack over his shoulder. He started walking and you took that as a signal to follow, your pink and white air max’s pressing onto the floor. The two of you didn’t speak on the way to his house, nor on the way up the stairs or as you walked into his room. It was odd seeing it. He had a bunk bed, you didn’t know what for since he was an only child.

Maybe for when Ned sleeps over? You thought to yourself.

He had multiple Star Wars posters on his walls and a desk covered in papers and notebooks and more backpacks were sat in next to it. How many backpacks does this kid have? What didn’t help you was the fact that they were all the same, same style, same colour. You didn’t speak on it though, if the kid collects backpacks, he collects backpacks.

Peter was sat on his desk chair and noticed you just standing there, doing nothing, but before he could say anything you took a seat on his plaid sheets. Looking around the room you made eye-contact with his things, his trinkets. His LEGO Star Wars figures. You had only ever talked to Peter in class so when you were in his room it made it seem all different and weird, you felt squirmy sitting in here. Like you couldn’t.

“So we should start on the project, right?” Peter questioned you.

“Uh,” Was the only thing that came out of your mouth. You looked over at the door and picked up your black and white backpack and stormed out of his apartment. You didn’t know what was happening you but you couldn’t sit in there anymore. You couldn’t deal with looking at Peters things, the things that make him more than someone you just made snarky and mean remarks to.

Peter followed you down the stairs, “Y/N WHERE ARE YOU GOING WE NEED TO DO THE PROJECT.” By the time he made it down the stairs he saw you sitting next to the stairs in front of his building. Your head in your knees.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, you didn’t know what to say to him and he didn’t know what to do. So he sat down next to you and put his hand on your shoulder, and he expected you to shrug it off - but you didn’t.

“I’m sorry.” You speak, and he looks sort of surprised, he never expected you to ever say it. The girl who had picked on him for so long even when he started picking on her back, “Look, I’ve just- I- I never,” You didn’t know how to speak, “I was always jealous of you. You get good grades, you’re cute, you always know what to say, have the right answers. You’re just perfect.”

“Did you just call me, cute?” Peter laughed, and you whacked him softly.

“Shut up,” You smiled softly.

He returned the soft grin, “I could say the same thing,” Your grin got slightly wider, as you looked down at your hands. “Let’s truce.” Peter speaks up.

“Really?” You questioned him, “Don’t you hate me?”

“Look, Y/N, you’ve never been anything but rude, or mean, or snarky. But, I never actually hated you.” Peter talks, “Everything you said about me, I could say about you - I think the reason we always hated each other was because of everything that we have in common, so let’s think about what we don’t have in common and go from there, maybe we can actually be friends.”

“Okay,” You smiled, “Let’s be friends.” You stood up, “So let’s think of this as our project first and then we can do the actual project. We’ve got weeks.”

“That’s probably cause the project is supposed to take weeks.” Peter retorts.

“Shut up, Parker!” You laughed.

When the two of you got back up to Peter’s room, you took a seat on his bed once more, all of a sudden it wasn’t scary anymore. It didn’t seem like the world was closing in around you as you looked around.

“So let’s start, clearly, your favourite movie is Star Wars - mine is Now You See Me, there’s something about hot magicians that turns me on. Does Leia do the same to you or?” You comment with a smirk.

Peter’s eyes go wide at your comment, “I- uh- I’m-”

“Relax, Parker, I’m kidding.” You lay back on his plaid sheets, smiling up at the ceiling.

You and Peter start brainstorming ideas of what you could do, building off of what you had said earlier, something simple with a twist on it. It seemed like a good plan, but simplicity is often the hardest thing to do. You sighed as you looked up at the wood planks of the bunk bed, you don’t catch it but your eyes start to close, until they do and you doze off, falling asleep. You hadn’t noticed it but night had fallen over New York, and then you woke up, Peter nowhere to be found. You were still in your clothes from the school day, but your hair was fucked up and there was mascara and lipgloss smudged on your face, a blanket was over you though, a blanket that wasn’t there earlier. However, your breath tasted foul.

You stood up feeling slightly lightheaded as you saw the texts from your mother on your phone from not too long ago, 10mins it read next to her name, so you clicked on the contact and called her.

“Hey mum, sorry I’ll be home soon I just fell asleep at MJ’s is all.” You explained, you didn’t want to tell your mum you were at a boy’s place. Especially Peter’s, after you talk your mouth off about how much you hated him.

Your mum lets out a sigh of relief, “Okay good, I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.” You can hear her smile through the phone.

You picked up your black and white backpack for the second time that evening, walking out the door to be met with a lady with large frames on her eyes, “Who are you?” She asks, “I knew Peter told me he had someone over, now I know why he wouldn’t tell me who.”

“My names Y/N,” You told her almost regretting it when her jaw dropped.

“OH MY GOD, no way, you’re the last person I expected to see here, Peter never shuts up about how much he hates you, honestly, I think he has a crush on you. I’m also his aunt May by the way,”

You laugh at her rambling, “Well, I’m the last person I’d expect to see here too, but Miss Grundle put us together for a project.” May nodded, “Speaking of Peter where is he? I wanna say bye before I leave.”

She tenses a little, but then relax’s, “He’s at the store buying us a chicken, because I can’t cook to save my life.” She smiles, “You’re welcome to stay.” She offers but you shake your head.

“My mum is expecting me home, so I’ve gotta go, but thank you.” You smile kindly.

“Well, maybe next time then,” She returns a smile.

“Yeah, next time.” You walk out of the apartment, closing the door behind you, you didn’t know why you felt so happy but you did.

You and Peter Parker were friends and you were happy about it.

#Peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader imagines #peter parker #peter parker x reader imagine #peter parker x reader one shot #peter parker x reader angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker smut

[montanabohemian]

rewatching FOTR on her 20th birthday is going something like this:

-- i don't have the emotional capacity to deal with this shit today

-- but okAY OHMYGOD FOTR LET'S DO IT FUCK YEAH

-- shit i can't watch boromir die again what the fuck

-- ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALRIGHT LET'S DO IT

-- HOLY SHIT THE PROLOGUE FUCKING NEVER FAILS TO SLAP JESUS CHRIST

-- "concerning hobbits" IMMEDIATE EMOTIONAL WRECK

-- "FIREWORKS GANDALF!!!!!" (WHY AM I CRYING)

-- SHIT I JUST LOVE HOBBITS AND HOBBITON AND THE SHIRE AND SHIT FUCK YEAH

-- remember when i decided i wanted to live in bag end? yeah i was six. and then FOTR came out and i was 14 and i saw it on the big screen and i decided then and there that my life goal was to build myself bag end. THAT HASN'T CHANGED. JESUS NOTHING COMPARES TO THIS FUCKING MOVIE.

-- LITERALLY. EVERY. SINGLE. SHOT. OF. THE. NAZGUL. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. this movie should have won an oscar for every shot with the nazgul. [HIGH PITCHED SCREAMING]

-- viggo. yeah. YESSIR. GOD DAMN YES SIR.

-- hello literally the coolest chase sequence literally ever put to film. and it's on horseback. HELLO.

-- MERRY. PIPPIN. MY BELOVED IDIOTS. I WOULD DIE FOR THEM.

-- ➡️watching Extended Edition which is required by law ⬅️ but i am taking a break at the midway point because I AM OLD OKAY

-- not bilbo CRYINGGGGGGG WHAT IS THIS I CAN'T FUCKING DEAL WITH SAD BILBO.

-- THE FULL FELLOWSHIP CUE. FUCK THAT SHIT JUST GOES SO HARD. AHHHHH. FUCK YEAAAAAAHHH

-- SCENIC WIDE SHOTS SCENIC WIDE SHOTS SCENIC WIDE SHOTS THAT SHIT NEVER GETS OLD HOLY FUCK

-- merry and pippin teaming up againd boromir and aragorn. FUCK I AM TOO WEAK FOR THIS SHIT.

-- you know what never gets old? LEGOLAS WALKING ON THE SNOW.

-- BILL THE PONY MY BELOVED 🥺🥺🥺🥺

-- NOT BILBO GIVING FRODO HIS WEDDING GIFT FROM THORIN 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃 EVERYTHING IS FIIIIIIIIIIIINE

-- "i wish the ring had never come to me. i wish none of this had happened."

"so do all who live to see such times. but that is not for them to decide. all we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."

BRB SOBBING AGAIN FUCKITY FUCK WHY IS THIS THE MOST PROFOUND MOVIE OF ALL TIME JESUS.

-- FUCK YEAH MORIA. FUCK YEAH.

-- oh pippin. oh my beloved idiot baby THAT I LOVE WITH EVERY FIBER OF MY BEING.

-- "THEY HAVE A CAVE TROLL."

-- literally every time i watch frodo get skewered by that spear i lose my breath. jeSUS. (but also. side note. i always feel bad for that cave troll. hahaha.)

-- balrog balrog BALROG

-- YOU. SHALL. NOT. PASS. fuck yeah. NEVER gets old. so fucking hardcore. LITERALLY SO FUCKING RAD OKAY.

-- watching gandalf fall makes me lose my shit no matter how many times i watch. but watching everyone else fall apart? 1000 TIMES WORSE. merry and pippin and sam just UGLY SOBBING. LEGOLAS THAT POOR BB. but then frodo. SHIT FUCK. Y'ALL. EVERY TIME. A WHOLE FUCKING MESS.

-- LOTHLORIEN YAAAAAAAAAAAS. remember how i said i wanted to build bag end and live there? WELL HARD GAME WITH LOTHLORIEN.

-- 🤩 G A L A D R I E L 🤩 "all shall love me and despair" YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT BITCH I FUCKING DO. i want to be her and i want her to step on me. it's a whole thing.

-- "you are a ring bearer, frodo. to bear a ring of power is to be alone. this task was appointed to you, and if you do not find a way, no one will."

"then i know what i must do. it's just, i'm afraid to do it."

"EVEN THE SMALLEST PERSON CAN CHANGE THE COURSE OF THE FUTURE."

NOT ME 20 YEARS OBSESSED WITH THIS PROFOUND FUCKING EXHANGE HOLY SHIT BUCKETS. NOTHING EVER GOES THIS HARD. LITERALLY NOTHING.

-- THE ARGONATH YES BITCHES

-- WHY DO I HAVE TO WATCH BOROMIR DIE AGAIN. WHY. WHYYYYYYYYYY. LITERALLY THE WORST DECISION. I HATE YOU TOLKIEN. I HATE YOU SO MUCH. I HATE THIS. I HAVE TO WATCH BOROMIR BE A TOTAL HERO AND THEN DIE AND IT HAPPENS RIGHT IN FRONT OF MERRY AND PIPPIN I HATE THIS YES I'M UGLY CRYING.

-- okay sam chasing after frodo tho into the water. yeah that's when i get REALLY UGLY SNOT BUBBLE TEARS. fuck. those two really are it aren't they. jesus CHRIST.

-- "may it be" sends me over the edge literally EVERY time. OKAY. JUST. LET ME LOUD SOB ABOUT THIS MOVIE AND HOW MUCH I LOVE IT.

conclusion: this movie HAS NEVER FAILED ME. WILL NEVER FAIL ME. IT WILL NEVER BE BEATEN. I LOVE THIS MOVIE SO COMPLETELY. BURY ME WITH IT WHEN I DIE.

#lotr #fotr #fellowship of the ring #lord of the rings #I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S BEEN 20 FUCKING YEARS OKAY

[raveismysublime]

Why the IC needs to grow the fuckity fuck up

The IC “Mor, Feyre, Cassian, Rhysand, Azriel and EXCLUDING AMREN CUZ THIS DOES NOT RELATE TO HER” needs to grow the fuck up. AND I AM HERE TO TELL YOU WHY THE FUCKING WHY.

***If you guys want to read my post about Nesta you can here ***

**** I have a really shitty blog about why I hate Rhysand here if you guys want to read that too haha ****

If you agree, that’s cool, if you disagree, that’s cool too. BUT do not deny facts my dear friends, because facts are facts are facts are facts and I said what I fucking said. 

Before really getting into each character, which I am going to do, I’m gonna start by saying my main problem with the whole IC is that they are all over 500 fifty fucking years old (excluding Feyre) and still act like fucking cunts of a children. One main thing I’m going to repeat is that they all need to grow the fuck up, yes Feyre too, because 500 years on this planet should teach someone fucking something. 

Honestly the whole IC needs to communicate with each other, but that’s another post for another time. 

Alrightyyyyy this is gonna be LONG so like, sit back? 

Let’s start with Mor shall we: 

Mor, oh Mor. So I actually enjoyed Mor as a character, I didn’t despise her or love her, but I liked her enough to not skip her scenes. She seemed like a fun, girl who was also deep at heart and I liked that. BUT Mor has problems that she needs to solve. What happened to Mor was traumatizing and I actually cried with what happened because, fuck that’s fucked up. BUT that does not give her an excuse and allows her to trail Azriel along, and use Cassian as a buffer for all the problems she refuses to face. Their needs to come a point where you fucking acknowledge your problems and stop tormenting those around you.

Like what did she expect, for all of eternity to never drop poor Azriel (he is not innocent, I’ll get to him soon) out of his misery AND TELL THE GUY YOU DON’T LIKE HIM. I understand it’s deeper than that, but it’s also not. Mor at surface level is this chill, bitchy (that’s a compliment) bad ass, but inside she’s all shades of fucked up (so am I, no judgment). Mor needs to realize that hiding in her little happy bubble of running around the bush is gonna let up.

For instance, when Cassian starts falling for Nesta, Mor is rude to Nesta, snarky, and in the most convenient times, such as during solstice in ACOFAS when for the two seconds Cassian actually looks at Nesta, she decides to give her his present. Mor knows that what’s happening between Nesta and Cassian isn’t some bullshit and she’s not happy. She knows her times out, and she gotta admit to herself her problems and admit it to everyone around her because they fucking deserve it. 

What happened to Mor when she was 17 was all shades of fucked, but you cannot keep defining yourself by that. Mor is so much more than what happened all those years ago, and she deserves to be happy, and should want that for Azriel as well, and everyone for that matter. Mor coming out to Feyre “which in itself IS SOMETHING ELSE I CAN RANT ABOUT FOR HOURS BUT I WON’T” is, I think, one step towards her to being happy.

Mor needs to grow up, and realize she can’t fuck around and expect no one to speak out on shit. 

Now Feyre: 

I don’t like Feyre. From the beginning of ACOTAR to ACOFAS any likeness I had for her just deterred into a pit full of shit. Feel free to disagree with me, I don’t really care. 

So Feyre to me, is a hypocrite and just a annoying character and narrator. I usually enjoy the main characters in books, but this one wasn’t for me. 

Throughout the books, Feyre prided herself on never being a house wife, to never let a man talk for her, to never sit around while the men did the work. 

Well, guess what. She did just that in the end. 

The whole IC coddles her, even when she is out rightly wrong. What happened to Feyre under the mountain was tragic, pitiful but nothing compared to what the rest of the IC went through. I am not downplaying her PTSD, merley saying the world does not revolve around her and that she needs to grow up and realize that, and shits not always perfect. 

After the war, Feyre’s life went into “perfect fairytale mode”. She shops, she cleans, she has sex, blah blah blah. Whenever anyone disagrees with her or Rhys, she justifies her and Rhy’s actions??? because they are always right???

Feyre is young, yet acts older and more responsible than everyone around her and they just let her. In my opinion, Feyre needs to grow up and understand that it is not always about her and Rhys. She needs to realize that she is not perfect, and that she is not always right and makes mistakes. 

Now Nesta has her own issues and I wrote a blog about that here but the way Feyre treats Nesta to me, is downright pathetic and rude. 

I am not saying Nesta is a angle, she has done fucked up things but Feyre just irks me whenever she tries to make amends with her. For instance in ACOFAS (she pissed me off the most here) she pressures and blackmails Nesta into going to starlight, says to do it for Elaine not for her, to make “Elaine happy”. Then she gets mad at Nesta for taking the money??? like what the fuck did she expect???

With Lucien, Feyre goes “he’s a good male” to Elaine. Like no. It doesn’t matter if he’s the most perfect man ever, not everything is perfect with a man. 

Feyre only likes Elaine because she is easy to deal with, like the flower of a rose while Nesta is the thorne. 

I just feel Feyre needs to be more aware about everything around her. Nesta is hurting and you bribing her to come to your little gathering with your pose of friends that just humiliated her the whole time is not right. 

I could get into every thing I hate about Feyre and why I do, highlighting all of her actions and everything she does that is just so wrong, but I wont in this post. 

YAY now Cassian!!!!!!: 

Okay I love Cassian. Him and Azriel are like my literal children but that does not mean that they don’t got maddd issues. 

Cassian’s issue is that he has insecurities, and those insecurities affect his daily life. For example, when he gets Nesta the present and she won’t accept it and he throws it away, we see that occurence from his POV. But, we can also see his insecurities shine through. Him always still being thought of a bastard no body, thinking that no one will ever want him or love him all of those things still affect him.

Mor chose him over Azriel because she knew the affect of her actions would hit harder if she lost her virginity to a “bastard no body”. The one thing that always hurt Cassian was when someone would comment about him being a Bastard nobody. 

He hides these insecurities behind his humour and lax behaviour (okay same) and I think he needs to find a way to deal with it. 

Another point about Cassian is that he does not respect Nesta’s privacy, and basically a minion for Feyre and Rhys to keep tabs on Nesta. If a girl does not want to talk to you and asks you repeatedly to leave her alone, you fucking leave her alone. It does not matter if you meant well, when someone does not want to talk to you leave them alone. Cassian’s insecurities are shown more when he is alone with Nesta, and that is something he needs to grow up and figure out himself. He can’t keep allowing his insecurities and lack of confidence affect his actions, especially around Nesta. 

To me, Cassian is better without the rest of the IC around him BUT that is also when all his problems are shown. He cannot hide behind Rhysand and make jokes with Azriel, flirt with Feyre or Mor, and he has to be by himself. 

The fact that he doesn’t talk to Nesta when Mor is around, or would be talking to her then immediately stop the second Mor walks in shows he cares more about her validation, and that also sends the wrong messege to Nesta. 

I love Cass, I really do but he has problems that he won’t acknowledge. They ALL DO. 

               If yall still reading all this way through I LOVE YALL!!!! 

Okay Azriel!!!!: 

I actually don’t have a lot of negative things to say about Az cause he is literally the most unproblematic one out of them all, but he, like Cass runs on Mor’s validation. 

I understand that he loves Mor and is still waiting out for her and all of that, but (and I may be wrong) shouldn’t their come a time when you talk about things? When you get tired of 500 years of silence and just talk about what the fuck is happening? 

I just want Az to be happy, and he thinks he deserves all the pain he’s got because of his cruel brothers. I want Az to get the light, not Feyre or Mor. 

I want Az to get over Mor, find love, and be fucking happy. I want him to want it for himself. I do NOT want Mor to tell him, I want him to tell her because its what Mor deserves for toying with him this whole time. 

I want Az to find out who his real father is, and for his mother to get justice as well (ugh, it just hurts me) and to be fucking happy. AND TO FORGET ABOUT MOR BECAUSE SHE DOES NOT DESERVE HIM!!!!!!

Now, last but not least 

Riceman: 

So I actually already wrote a really shitty blog (it is honestly terrible lmfao, I’m just angry the whole time) about why I don’t like Riceman and I go into detail from each book on why I do not like him. If you guys want you can find it here  and leave your opinions!!!!!!!!

But one thing I do want to address is how whenever Rhysand does something absolutely terrible, Feyre justifies it by “its something that you had to do” or “they’ll forgive you and understand” (same to Feyre). 

For example, when he makes Mor work with his abuser, and Feyre’s like “she’ll understand it is what you had to do” does he not know how traumatic that would be for someone? He didn’t even talk to Mor before to warn her, to prepare her. No, he just threw it in front of everyone like what the fuck. 

It’s just, Rhysand is so problematic on many levels, and he was one of my favorite characters but then ACOWAR came out and we all know how that turned out. 

ooookayyyyyy that’s the end!!!!!!! If you read all this way your the best omg love yous!

make sure you check out the Nesta blog and the Riceman one, I go into a lot more depth about them and give actual points and factors 

make sure to tell me what you guys think! Y'all agree? Disagree? did i miss any points?? Lemme know

#nesta archeron #nesta #feyre #high lady Feyre #rhysand #night court #cassian #nessian #azriel #mor #inner circle #sarah j mas #bryce quinlan #acotar #acomaf #acofas #acowar

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Surprises (7)

Ah here is chapter 7, hoping for 8 tomorrow if all goes well:))

Previous Chapter.

Masterlist.

Ask Box.

Warnings: In this chapter there is talks of past violence and death. There will be swearing, mature themes, mentions of alcohol at times, and mentions of sex. I will update warnings as I go if needed.

My beautiful beta @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares was very happy, I’ll leave it at that;)

Chapter 7

—————

Azriel decided to take her to a place he only ever went to alone, not even bringing his brothers out here, the ones that meant something anyway. He’d brought her to his old house, or, at least, what was left of it. The outhouse where his mother spent the majority of her time was still standing, but the main house was no more than cinders, the remaining few parts of its foundation were the only signs that it had existed in the first place. Elain was a quiet presence beside him, her hand linked with his again- he had told her that path was overgrown and didn’t want her to trip, but he just wanted an excuse to do so once more. When they were finally in his mother’s old house, he told her to sit while he got her a glass of water, ignoring her protests that she was fine. She didn’t look fine at all, she looked like she was going to be sick or something and he told her as such.

He took a seat opposite Elain after handing her the glass, the reason they were here coming back to him when she spoke again.

“It’s the morning sickness. Well I should say daytime sickness, because that’s how it feels. That’s why I don’t look too great.”

Azriel’s mouth was moving before he could stop the words, yet he didn’t regret them.

“You look beautiful. You always look beautiful.”

She blushed then, ducking her head said slightly, and the sight made his chest hurt. It wasn’t just that, it was looking at her in the place he grew up, looking as though she belonged. Like she was meant to be there with him. He stopped those thoughts in their tracks when the words ‘morning sickness’ actually clicked something in his mind, and he forced himself to ask about the reason for such a thing. “You know, I meant what I said, about the baby. I really would like to be there for you, for both of you. If you’ll let me, that is. But I’m not asking to jump into some kind of relationship; I thought maybe we could try to be friends? We never had that to begin with and I would like to get to know you. Even if we weren’t in this situation, I’d still want that.”

His heart broke a little bit when she looked back at him with tears in her eyes, just like back at the diner. He had wanted to wipe them away then, but hadn’t been sure whether or not she would let him. Screw it. Moving from his own chair, he got down on his knees in front of her, gently lifting his hands to cup her cheeks and used his thumbs to brush them away.

“Please don’t cry, El. Please, I didn’t mean to upset you. Gods, how do I keep fucking this up?”

Mother above, she was even more stunning up close. There were little freckles scattered over the bridge of her nose, her eyes were so bright with hope he never wanted to look anywhere else. And that mouth. He just wanted to kiss it. All of the time. Elain giggled then, a soft and adorable sound that he wanted engraved into his brain. She smiled when she spoke once more, and he thought he’d died right there and gone to heaven.

“You didn’t upset me, Az. Stupid hormones are making me cry over the littlest things. But did you mean that? Are you sure this is what you want? Because you can walk away, you don’t have to bear this with me, I’d understand.”

If Azriel was any other idiotic, pig–headed teenage boy, he might have taken her up on that offer. Might have walked away from them and never looked back. But that wasn’t what he wanted. He always knew he’d wanted kids, and yes this might be earlier than he had planned, but maybe this is how it was meant to happen. And he knew for certain he was not going to be his father, he wasn’t going to let his child grow up thinking its father didn’t want it. Didn’t love it. So, he nodded and smiled back, and answered with all the determination he could muster.

“Yes, this is what I want. I’m all in, Elain.”

He hadn’t expected it, but she brought him into a bone crushing hug, like she hadn’t expected him to agree with her. Hesitantly, he put his own arms around her shoulders and rested his cheek on the top of her head. She smelt so good, fit so right in his arms that he never wanted to let her go.

Azriel thought he could get used to this and decided to do everything in his power to keep it.

oOoOo

It had been a few weeks since their talk about the baby, and Elain found that she was smiling almost constantly. Azriel had been texting her every day, asking her how she was, and for the first few days her answer was simply just ‘I’m fine’. He seemed to know that she never really meant it, phoning her one evening a few days ago, to call her out on her bullshit while she was lying in bed.

Elain had just been about to put her phone down, telling Lucien goodnight, when it lit up with Azriel’s name on an incoming call. She hesitated for a moment as he’d never called before, but then told herself to stop being stupid because they’d talked in person, there was no difference.

“Hi Az. Are you alright?” Why the hell was he calling?

“I’m going to ask you a question, El, and I want you to be honest with me. How are you feeling?”

“Wha- fine. I feel fine Az, I’ve told you.”

There was a huff of breath on the other end, a frustrated huff, like he was mad at her. But she didn’t know why, didn’t know what she had done to piss him off. Everything was okay when they texted only a few hours ago.

“Feyre and Nesta were talking at lunch today,” fuckity fuck, “they were saying that you were sick this morning with a bad headache, so you didn’t come into school. But when I asked you this morning, you said there was nothing wrong. You said you trusted me Elain, but you’re not telling me things. I don’t ask just to ask, I genuinely want to know, and I know I can’t begin to understand, but I did this to you and I just want you tell me that yeah, sometimes you feel like complete shit.”

What did she do to deserve this boy?

“I’m sorry. It’s just, you already feel terrible about the whole thing, I don’t want to make you feel any worse.”

It was true. Whenever that night was brought up, when they were trying to remember things or tell the other that they had remembered something new, he always got this distant look on his face. And when she asked about it, it was always the same answer. He wished that it hadn’t been like that, wished he could do it all differently, to take care of her how she deserved and be gentler than he had. He was always scared of hurting her, when he’d already hurt her too much. However, he finished every time saying that he’d never regret her or the baby, because now they were all he wanted. Thinking of that made her say how she felt, even though she didn’t want to add to his guilt. But he’d asked.

“Every day, I feel so goddamn awful Az, and it sucks ass.”

He laughed then and gods, she would do whatever she could to make him do it again, again, again.

Elain looked at him now, standing at the kitchen counter, in the house he’d explained was his mother’s. His real mother’s before she died. That story, when he’d told her, had made her cry for what felt like hours. His biological brothers had decided that day that they had wanted to play with fire, using him as a test dummy. They had him pinned and set fire to his hands, not letting him go until he was screaming at the top of his lungs. When they did, the flames were gone although the burning sensation was still there, his flight or fight response kicked in, and he just bolted, running all the way to Rhysand’s house. He was only eight. And by the time Rhys’ mother- a nurse, he had remembered his friend telling him–had cleaned up his hands and he’d gathered the courage to go home, the whole place was ablaze, taking his family with it. She pushed that to the back of her mind and couldn’t help her smile as she watched him make her a sandwich, cutting it into to small squares so she didn’t eat too much and make herself sick, knowing that she couldn’t really keep any food down.

Azriel sat across from her after handing her the plate, just watching her, but after a few minutes, she had noticed a contemplative look become apparent on his face. Lifting a piece of her sandwich, she asked him with a bit of amusement, “Why are you looking at me like that?” He shook his head at that and turned away from her.

“It’s uh, it’s nothing. Eat; you said you’d barely had anything today.”

Not suspicious at all that, was it?

“I thought we agreed to stop lying to each other. You can tell me. What’s wrong?”

“I just... I just really want to kiss you right now.”

Elain was hearing things. She’d finally lost the plot. He couldn’t have possibly just said what she thought he did, there was just no way. The butterflies that were always in her stomach whenever she was near him became ten times worse. He couldn’t want Elain. Yes, they’d spent that one night together, but they were both drunk, he was probably just going for what was closest in his hazy state of arousal. And sure, there were kisses he’d placed on her cheek when they managed to get some time alone but they were just friendly. He’d asked to be friends. All of a sudden, her chair was being dragged around next his, and he lifted one hand to cup her cheek.

“May I kiss you, Elain?”

It was actually happening then. She’d fantasized about this a few times since he’d first brought her here, but she never thought she’d get to experience the real thing. Closing her eyes tightly, she nodded to let him know it was a yes. That it was okay. But for Azriel, that wasn’t enough.

“Open your eyes, El. I need to be sure; I’m not taking something that isn’t mine again.”

She did so, and staring into those beautiful hazel eyes, Elain let out a breathy, “Yes.”

He leaned in slowly, so slowly she thought he wasn’t moving at all. But then she felt his breath on her lips and his eyes were flicking between her own and her mouth. She closed them again at the first touch, just a peck. Then another. A few more until his mouth was opening slightly against hers, and she followed his lead, not really having kissed anyone- the ones she didn’t remember not counting. For a minute, it was a clash of teeth and tongue, but he wasn’t put off and stayed slow as not to rush her. Gods, he tasted good, like mint and something she couldn’t quite place. She brought her hand up to tangle in his hair, making him groan against her mouth, causing her to giggle.

Az pulled back slightly then, smiling at her as he asked, “We can go as slow as you’d like, but I want you to know that no matter how this makes me feel,” he brought her hand to his chest and she gasped at the feeling of his racing heart, “the choice will always be yours.”

Nodding enthusiastically, she kissed him this time, with more confidence than before. Only one word pushed to the forefront of her mind.

Yes, yes, yes.

—————

So they finally kissed! Are you happy? Was it good? Let me know your thoughts:)) if you want to be added/removed from tags I’ll be happy to do so😊

Tags: @starlitfangirl @starsauroras @drunken-starz @myfriendscallmeraba @thesirenwashere @empress-sei @elrielllll @stars-falling @cirieael @verifiefangirl @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn @mirainthedark05 @fancyclodpaintercookie @acourtofterrasenandvelaris @azriel-archeronn @queen-of-glass @bamchickawowow @slightly-sane-fangirl @empress-ofbloodshed @sleeping-and-books @b00kworm @kvi-arts @rhysandhlcor @tswaney17 @awkward-avocado-s @judexcardanxgreenbriar

#elain archeron #elain x azriel #azriel #elriel #surprises #omg they kissed #finally #how long will this last #feyre archeron #rhysand #nesta archeron #cassian

[saltfics]

“You’re panicking?! I’m the one who got fucking *insert injury*!”

Blood, Gore & Injury Sentence Starters Thanks for the ask @bibliothesoph !! I made an Ao3 work for this and future sentence prompts here! But the whole fic is posted under the keep reading as well!

If you want to go really hard on the appreciation, you can tip your fellow writer here. Hope you enjoy!!

 Having famous last words is one way to go down in history. It’s not even just the profound ones that get all the credit. Sometimes, the ones remembered are those that were so cocky and topped with just the right amount of irony to be rendered iconic.  Alex has never forgotten John Sedgwick since he learned about him, not because of his great work as a military officer, but because he had the gall to say ‘they couldn’t shoot an elephant from that distance’. And then they did. 

Alex thinks he has a high chance of going down the same way. In fact, his last words might turn out to be, I can run that fast.

The light for the pedestrians switches from green to red just as he steps on the crossing, but the cars are still far away. Henry’s waiting for him outside the university library, and Alex is already twenty minutes late. I can run that fast, he thinks and dashes instead of stepping back. He doesn’t notice the car that’s mid-turn, a turn that’s far closer thanwhat he based his calculations on. I can run that fast. 

Famous last words.

There’s a precise moment when he realizes he’s completely fucked up, and he wastes one whole sixteenth of a second hoping it’s not the last time he ever gets to fuck up like that. He’s in the middle of the street, too far in to back away, too far away to make it to the other side. It’s a two-car lane. If he takes a step back, there’s something coming his way. If he takes a step forward, there’s another car coming his way. If he stays there  … Fucking fuckity fuck.

If he dies, Henry’s going to murder him.

Metal connects to his side and all that crap about your life flashing before your eyes? It’s still crap, but later he’ll swear time does slow down for him to think. Or his mind goes into overdrive. Same difference. He feels the first slam and he thinks, hey that wasn’t that bad.  He can’t see around him, can’t register his surroundings but he still manages one single, impossible thought in the middle of disaster: Brace yourself. You still have to land.

And maybe that’s why when he does fall on the asphalt, a good two feet away from where the car hit the breaks, his hands are out to protect his face. When his vision returns, he’s on his hands and knees in the middle of the street, his palms stinging from the rough slap against the asphalt. His legs are spread behind him and his backpack is too heavy on his back, pulling him to the side.

Alex is breathing hard, trying to take mental stock of his body. He’s afraid to try moving his legs, but he’s still in the middle of the fucking road, one of the lanes paused because of his stupidity. Okay, okay, he has to move.

He searches his body for any extreme aches that should cause him to panic, but the adrenaline must still be pumping through him because he doesn’t feel any pain. Relief spikes through him for a second. He’s fine. He’s actually fine. Henry’s not going to kill him. June is not going to have his head.

Then he actually tries pushing himself to his feet. Shit, nope, he’s wrong. He’s very wrong. Fuck.

Pain strikes, angry and bright like lightning up his leg, the second he considers putting some weight on it. The effect on him is still blurred, his mind reeling too much to properly panic or wonder what that means.

He doesn’t register the people walking towards him until two sets of hands grab his arms, while a third pries his backpack from his shoulders to lessen his load. Together they guide him to the nearest sidewalk. Alex is sure he says something to them. Thank you, or sorry, or an endless stream of both mixed together into a string of mumbled nonsense.

“Dude, are you okay?” one of the guys supporting him says.

“You should have been more careful,” reprimands the lady who’s still holding his bag. “Why did you cross like that?”

They lower him down into a sitting position again now that he’s not obstructing traffic anymore, and Alex’s head is starting to return to him. A small crowd is gathered around him, talking to him, asking him if he needs anything, but mostly just looking on, curious and worried in equal measure. He looks around for his backpack again, just to make sure it’s nearby. His laptop, including his fresh 25-page paper is in there and he has his priorities straight, damn it. 

He catches a glimpse of what he’s pretty certain is the car that slammed into him drive away as soon as the street is free again. Fucker.

“We should call an ambulance!”

“Should we drive you somewhere?”

“Is there anyone I can call for you, honey?”

That’s when his mind actually connects. “Oh, shit! Henry! Where’s my phone? I-I was holding it? Fuck, is it still on the street?” One of the guys who helped him pushes his phone into his hands. Alex is pretty sure he’s in his class. Shit, he needs to learn his name. Why is he such an ass with this stuff? “Thanks, man,” Alex offers him a guilty smile. “I’m—I’m good. I’m good, everyone! Thank you so much! I’ll just call my boyfriend to-to pick me up! It’s—”

“Alex?”

“Or he’ll find me first.”

The crowd parts as Henry pushes his way through, and soon starts to scatter. The lady hands his backpack to Henry as she leaves, and he accepts it, confused. Alex watches as Henry’s eyes roam over him, widening as he takes him in, sitting on the dirty sidewalk, his leg spread out carefully, his clothes rumpled. And he’s grateful there’s a lack of carnage on him, no blood or torn clothes, that he’s just mildly disheveled, because he can’t imagine putting Henry through that.

Well, he’s also grateful he didn’t die, but again, priorities.

“Alex, what happened?” Henry asks, crouching next to him. He pushes a tangled mess of curls away from his face, letting his hand rest on his cheek. “Why are you on the ground? Are you okay?”

Okay, shit, how does he tell his beautiful, barely calm boyfriend that he was stupid enough to get slammed by a car in one of the busiest streets in New York? “Uh, okay, don’t freak out.” Which is the wrong thing to say, and the fastest way to get Henry to do just that.

“What? Why? What’s wrong? Can you get up? Are you hurt?”

“Yes. And yes. Actually, I think. I don’t know.”

“Alex…  what?”

Alex groans. His leg is still throbbing in a steady pulse, but that’s about it. Even his hands have stopped stinging. “Help me up? Please?”

Henry nods, still confused and Alex doesn’t want to exchange the confusion with whatever’s going to come next. He wonders how much he can play the injury off. He can say he tripped, and with his level of injuries it’ll probably be believable but he doesn’t want to lie to Henry. If it was the other way around…

Alex hisses the moment he’s on his feet. Henry fumbles to readjust his grip on his arms, squeezing a bit too tight as if Alex might break if he doesn’t hold on with all he has. “Shit, sorry. I, uh, okay. So, I had a little accident.”

“You—what kind of accident?” The color washes from Henry’s face as he pulls him closer, shifting his arms so one of them is around Alex’s back instead. “What happened?”

“I’m okay, I promise! I was just really stupid. And crossed the street too carelessly and well…” he shrugs, giving a vague gesture towards his left leg.

Henry looks back towards the street for a moment, and when he turns back to Alex he looks like he’s the one who got struck. “That street?” he asks, voice small. “Are you okay? Are you—Okay, we need to go to the hospital. I’ll call Shaan to come pick us up, do you want to sit down again? Does it hurt? I’m sorry, I—”

Alex places both palms on the side of Henry’s face, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. “Hey, hey. Look at me.”

Henry hesitates for a second. When those precious blue eyes turn to meet his own, hints of moisture linger in their corners. He’s much paler than he was when he arrived, and Alex wants so desperately to kiss some color back into those lips, watch a rosy pink dust his too cold cheeks.

“Baby…” he coos. “You’re panicking? I’m the one who got ironed. Breathe.”

Henry flinches, his face inching away from Alex’s hold. “Don’t use that word. That’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he chuckles. “Would it help if I went to the hospital with you?”

“Would it help? Of course, you’re going to the hospital! ‘Would it help’, he says.”

There’s no chance in hell Henry is going to take no for an answer, so Alex waits for him to call Shaan, lets him help him to the car without any protest. On the way there he gets three phone-calls, the level of exasperation increasing with each one. Apparently one of those kind passerbys was also kind enough to post a photo of him on the sidewalk on his Twitter. His dad calls first to make sure he’s okay. Then June, who upon learning the location of the accident just responds with ‘and you’re still alive?’, which is fair but also very rude, though when he complains to Henry about it, he’s sure he must be using all his patience not to glare at him for the nonchalance. He’s definitely glaring when Zahra calls and Alex just hands the phone over to him with the biggest, most pleading eyes he can muster.

Other than that, Henry stays quiet, eyes glued up ahead and staring at nothing. One of his hands is holding Alex’s own and he squeezes it every few minutes like he’s trying to make sure Alex is still there. It’s scaring him a little, but no matter how many times he insists he’s okay, that it barely even hurts, Henry doesn’t relax. He turns to him, gives him a small, tense little smile, then resumes looking at nothing ahead of him.

It’s fine. They’ll go to the hospital, they’ll get some tests done, and Henry will see he’s in perfect health. Then they’ll go home and cuddle until he forgets how much his leg hurts.

Unless he has some internal bleeding. That would be unfortunate.

The hospital visit passes faster than even he could have predicted. After describing his symptoms, Alex is quickly examined by an orthopedist and taken for x-rays to make sure nothing is broken. Everything comes out clear and in an astonishing show of competency, they’re out of there less than two hours later. Hell, the waiting room took twice as long as the tests themselves.

They stop for some painkillers on the way home, and he’s all set. He won’t even have to miss a class.

But Henry doesn’t perk up with the news. His breathing calms and he gets a hint of color to his cheeks as they drive home, but he’s still quiet. Withdrawn. It hurts more than the leg.

David rushes to greet them when they return, all little jumps and wagging tails. Alex feels a pinch of hurt when Henry grabs the puppy before he can jump on him. He doesn’t reprimand him, of course. Henry never yells at David, not even when he chews on pages of his work that he was foolish enough to leave out, but he’s too listless to play with him either, and it’s that apathy that finally breaks Alex’s heart.

“Henry? Baby, talk to me,” he pleads, leaning on his good leg with one hand against the nearest wall. “I’m fine, so what’s wrong?”

Henry doesn’t look at him. “I’m going to take him out for a bit. We won’t take long. Maybe I can bring food on my way back? What do you feel like having?”

“Henry.”

“Is there anything you need before I leave? Water? Tea? Do you want me to help you up the stairs? Maybe we should just fix up the couch for tonight…”

Alex sighs, limping over to where Henry is still looking away from him, bent over to secure the leash on David’s collar. He wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him upright. “Sweetheart…” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck, as he’s still turned the wrong way. “Please.”

It takes a lifetime to hear his voice. “You’re such an idiot,” Henry breathes, too shaky to hold any bite. He lets Alex turn him around and leans forward to press their foreheads together. “You’re such an arse.” He’s not crying, though he’s shaking, and Alex rubs some warmth up and down his arms, along his back. “Do you have any idea how lucky you got? That was a dangerous fucking street, Alex.”

It’s the lack of anger that truly does him in. Henry might be mad at him but it’s not enough to overpower the fear that’s been rooting within him for hours. “I’m sorry. I know. I’m so sorry.” Alex pulls back slightly to give him a soft smile. “Would it help if I said I was rushing because I was so desperate to see you?”

“Alex. ”

“Nope, I made it worse. Got it.” He presses a chaste kiss to his lips. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It was stupid, even for me. It won’t happen again, I promise. I’ll look both ways. Twice. I’ll fucking study physics to calculate the speed of cars versus my chance of running into them if I have to!” A smile trembles at Henry’s lips and Alex grins. “Watch me! Hey,” he says, softer now. He presses another kiss, this one to his cheek, smiling against him when Henry tilts his head towards the touch. “Anything to wipe that look off your face, and never have to see it again.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I worried you.”

“I know.”

David squeezes between their legs, pawing at Henry, nudging him with his nose.

Alex smiles. “It’s okay, buddy. I upset your daddy a little bit, but we’ll be fine. Right?”

Henry nods, bending down to scratch the top of David’s head, before heading for the door. “He doesn’t like it when I’m upset.”

“We have that in common.”

Henry makes sure to wrap him into the biggest hug before he leaves, even though he’s all kinds of dirty from lying on the road, and probably still smells like the hospital. Alex presses his face into the crook of his neck, breathes him in. Guilt churns in his stomach when he really stops to think about it, how stupid it was, how Henry must have felt. He squeezes a bit tighter before letting go.

And because he’s a total hypocrite, but he got himself too worked up not to, he calls out after him before he shuts the door.

“Hey, look both ways before you cross the road!”

Henry loves him, anyway.

#saltfics #rwrb #rwrb fic #red white and royal blue #first prince #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #slight whump! #calm before the storm honestly because i have 9 more of those coming and some of them are uh a pain train #enjoy #leave a comment and/or a reblog #they help more than you think! #Anonymous

[maximumninjavoid]

Mining for Unobtanium ch 24

Twenty four chapters. I must be mad. Mad I tell you ...

and for those of you following along, I love you. I swear THIS weekend I WILL get that damn masterlist done.

The usual warnings about adult themes, BDSM, sex kink 18 + and all that and today for a special treat, how about some angst?

  I sat on the sofa with my head in my hands, smoking like a poorly tuned engine. Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. I knew it, he knew it and neither one of us wanted to actually deal with it. Ok, well, pragmatism. There's a freaking pandemic. Masks, mandatory. That helps. Ball cap, another added layer. Sunglasses? Slightly oversized jacket and jeans? That's pretty effective camouflage, and we might get away with it. It was worth a shot. We could work on my cover story together. I texted him my brilliant plan, in sarcasm font, because, you know, there's a special font for that, and grabbed some more coffee and a muffin and plotted out what I'd like to see. I met my mystery date at the Tower of London and we got in line to see the Crown Jewels. I knew they were replicas, but I still needed to pay homage. I told him the Hope Diamond story and how I made it a point to go visit her when I could, and how they wouldn't let me touch it. " I tried to explain, if they had met my ex husbands, they'd know I was immune to the curse... " "The curse?"  " Oh it's awful.  Everyone who's come in contact with it has come to a terrible end" and I told him the story of the heiress, and the poor postman who delivered it. "They sent that through the  mail?" It was fascinating, seeing the treasures and telling him all the tidbits I knew about the pieces. I think he was surprised. It was delightful, how easy the conversation was. We went to grab a bite to eat, sat next to each other in the booth. So fat, so good. No photographs, no recognition. Maybe there was an upside to the pandemic. I turned to look at him, and he at me. At the same instant we both spoke. "So, about last night..." and then we both laughed. " You first" I said.  There was that disarming smile and he said " Ladies first. " "Oh, I'm no lady" I retorted. " Broad, dame, doll, in fact, I get too hungry for dinner at eight.....but I'm no lady. You first. " "That was mind blowing. Spectacular, really, but I want more. May I have more?"  " You're dangerously close to going Oliver Twist on me... Please ma'am, may I have some more...And I'm delighted you enjoyed yourself, love. But, honesty and transparency, right? Cards on the table. What does more look like in your head? What are you asking for? " He grew pensive and knit his brows together a bit and leaned forward with his fingers steepled before his face. It was a few minutes before he spoke, softly, but intently. For my ears only. " I think you know the depth and breadth of my physical reaction. But the effect it had on me otherwise, I'm rather having difficulties quantifying that. I want to explore that, the serenity, the sense of letting go. I have my family and we are very close, and I have mates I've known for ages, but I trust you in a way that I trust my mates and then again in a completely different way. I'm puzzled but intrigued. I still think it's fae sorcery. " he smiled. I was undone. My eyes teared up a bit and I swiped at them with my hand. I resisted the natural inclination to make light of his admission, jokes are my primary comping mechanism. "Trust is the foundation. If we didn't have that, none of the other things would be possible, and there would be nothing to build upon. You HAVE to know that I've got you, in the same way someone who would be submitting to you would know that you have them. That there isn't anything you'll do to harm them, no matter what, and that if it hurts; it hurts good." " That really is the core of it. That and I adore you. We can talk about all kinds of things, I love your stories, and I'm selfish. I want more of you. " "Oh sure you love my stories now, wait till you're hearing them for the forty third time. How much more of me would you like? You've had my uvula, been past my cervix, may I offer you a lobe of my liver? Twenty seven years clean and sober it's probably perfect again..." He took my hands in his and held them. " Come be with me. I want to see your face in the morning when I get up. I want to fall asleep next to you, inside of you. I want to grab your ass as I pass you in the kitchen. I want to look up from gaming and see you reading a book. "  And then he leaned in very close , his mouth next to my ear, and he whispered " And I want you to torment me with all of your toys. Please, Ma'am. I beg of you". I shuddered. I think I damn near came right there. And he knew it. How could I refuse? I couldn't. And I knew that this had an expiration date like a dairy product left in a hot car, but damned if I wasn't going to enjoy it and make sure he enjoyed it. At the very least, I'd like to be an enigmatic smile that no one really understood. I could live with being a very delightful memory of a bygone time.  We made plans to meet up back at his home later, and I went back to the hotel to pack and check out. The shrew in my head was having a field day as I gathered up my belongings. What DO you think you're doing old girl? This is THE most foolish thing in a long line of foolish things, but this one takes the prize. Are you going to help him pick out his wife? Train her to be the perfect submissive for him? Get this all out of his system before he settles down? And what? Clean up after him and walk his dog while he goes and does what ever?

#henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut

[theoriginalladya]

WIP Whenever - because I can

So I came across this WIP that I must’ve written a couple nights ago when I started to think about Caleb in ME2 era timeline.  If there is one person with whom his relationship actually improves during this time, despite his ties to Cerberus, it’s with Abby Williams.  

Placing under cut for length, language and feels.  Very rough draft, but loving how their conversation flows ...

A soft, persistent beep pulls Abigail from deep, desperately needed sleep.  “Fuck off, Lynn, or ‘m telling Mom!” she mumbles.  Or, thinks she does.  Her lips get tangled around most of the consonants and flat out trip over Mom.  

The beeping continues.  Annoying.  Aching. “Sar!”  Her youngest sibling’s name escapes as a grunt, exacerbated as she rolls over on top of her omni-tool.  Though it mutes the alarm, the vibration factor is more effective in the long run.

With a groan, she pulls her arm free and blindly jabs her thumb at the button.  It takes three stabs before it connects.  “This’d better be good …,” she threatens.

“Abs,” a familiar lilting Irish voice calls softly, patiently, knowingly.  “I need you to wake up for me.”

Another groan escapes followed by a hiss aimed through the omni-tool.  “Shepard, what the ever living fuck?”  Opening her eyes to mere slits, she fights to focus on the chronometer.  “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

His soft chuckle blankets her.  “Aye, darlin’, I do.  But I need you.  Only for a moment, I promise.  Can you help me out?”

The grumble starts deep in her throat, more of a growl really, but she throws the covers back.  Rising slowly, she sets her bare feet on the floor and shivers, cold racing through her body.  “What?” There is nothing amenable in the word.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs.  “Need you to check your encrypted messages.”

Shit.  That means her terminal on the other side of the flat. Running a hand through her short hair, she reaches for her robe and stumbles out of her bedroom.  The hall leads past the kitchen …  She pauses, turns.  Through the kitchen if she adds ten steps, and it’s beginning to sound like coffee might be a necessity, though she can’t explain why.  “I hate you,” she grumbles.

He laughs.  “Love you too, darlin’.”  

The coffee maker starts with a press of a button then she heads out the other doorway.  A few seconds later, she drops heavily into her desk chair.  The terminal wakes a moment later, a hell of a lot perkier than she is at the moment.  Sure enough, flashing at the top of her encrypted messages is one from him. “Yeah, okay,” she mutters.  “Got it.”

“Good.  I need to you hand deliver that for me.”

She frowns.  “Hand deliver?”  She squints as the message opens, and identifies the recipient …  Sleep fades faster than the dawn arrives.  “What the hell is going on, Caleb?” she asks, her voice barely audible.

“Long story, but I need it taken care of.  Can you do that for me, Abs?”

She rubs her eyes and nods forgetting for a moment that their connection isn’t visual.  Isn’t visual …  Frowning at her wrist, she demands, “Where are you?”

“Nowhere you need to worry about.”

“Caleb –!”

“Abs, can’t talk about it right now.  You’ll hear soon enough.”

She thinks back to that night on the Citadel when they got drunk together.  At the time, it appeared to be a random encounter, but now?  Now she can’t help but wonder.  He told her about coming back to life, about how Cerberus had him in a collared, but the mission is ultimately worth it.  The mission …  Her eyes close.  A soft gasp fills the air.  “Wouldn’t be heading to … Omega, would you?”

“Abs …”

“Fine, fine.”  She runs a hand over her face again and hits print.  “I can catch a shuttle to Arcturus in the morning.”  Before she finishes, a second message pops up, again from him.  This she opens as well.  Her eyes glue to the recipient.  She hesitates to say anything, but she knows he’s waiting.  “This one in person too?”

“If you’d be so kind.”

Fuck!  Fuck fuck fuckity fuck!  She’s no genius, but it doesn’t take one to figure out what he’s up to.  The hand returns to her face, covers her mouth and eyes.  It’s a struggle to find her voice.  “Dammit,” she chokes eventually, “you - you’re saying goodbye, aren’t you?”

The channel is completely silent.

Her jaw hurts from gritting her teeth.  “Caleb, don’t leave me hanging this time!  Please!”

His sigh is soft, reluctant as it echoes on her end of the connection.  “Aye.”

A small, unexpected whimper is pulled from her throat.  “When?”

“Can’t say.”

She pounds her fist onto the desk hard enough for the terminal and keyboard to clatter.  “Dammit, Shepard!”

“Let’s just say you’ll know how well I fare within a couple days.”

Her belly rises into her throat faster than it did during her first free-fall training jump.  “Sealgaire …”

The smile creeps back into his voice, but just for a moment.  “I wondered if you paid attention that night.  Abs, darlin’, you are the best friend a person could ask for.”  He goes silent, then, “I’ll be back; I promise. I’ve got some unfinished business to attend.”

She sniffles softly and wipes at a lone tear that trails down the side of her nose.  “I’m going to hold you to that,” she mutters.  “You’re buying the first round of drinks.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“And the second!”

When he laughs, she hears the strain.  “That too.  A Stór, saol fada agus breac-shláinte chugat.”**

The sniffling gets louder.  “Oh, rubbish!” she hisses and ignores his fond chuckle. “Don’t you make me have to come after you!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’,” he promises. “I should go.  And Abs, … go raibh maith agat.”**

Her heart breaks, but she manages a smile and replies the way he taught her, “Go ndéana sé maith duit.”

~~~~

** A Stór = “My treasure” (used to express affectionate friendship)

** Saol fada agus breac-shláinte chugat. = Long life and fair health to you.

** go raibh maith agat = Thank you

** Go ndéana sé maith duit = “May it do you good.” (you’re welcome)

#ladya writes #Caleb Shepard #Abby Williams #ME2 #WIP whenever #mass effect #angsty?

[hobiboo1]

The DUFF- part 10

SHIT GOES DOWN IN THIS CHAPTER

the duff au // college au // future smut // humour // basketball player jungkook // dancer jimin // best friends jin + taehyung                                                                       

Your annoying neighbour and childhood friend, Jungkook, strikes a deal with you to help you get the attention of your crush, Jimin, if you help him pass his philosophy class.

warnings: smut, swearing

Jin’s eyes widen as he snaps his head towards you with such strength and speed that you’re worried he hurt his neck.

“What should we do?” He whispers at a volume that one could consider on par with shouting.

“Tell him to fuckity fuck off,” Taehyung ‘calmly’ adds his opinion.

They wait for you to tell them what to do, but you say nothing. You stare at them blankly. You don’t know what to do.

“I get that you don’t want to see me, Y/N,” Jimin says and now you’re all looking at the speaker, realizing that Jin still has his finger on the button. “But if I could just see you for a few minutes.”

Jin yanks his hand back, holding it at his chest almost as if it is its own entity, and has betrayed him.

“Listen, I will personally march down there and tell him to fuck the fuck off,” Taehyung says, crossing his arms. You can tell that he’s really mad because of his frequent use of the word ‘fuck’.

“Maybe,” You start, softly, and they both look at you expectantly, “Maybe I should just go down there.”

Jin frowns, the lines on his forehead making a dramatic plunge towards his eyebrows. You could have just told him you’re moving to South Africa to be an ostrich farmer based on the reaction.

“Maybe that’s a good idea.” Taehyung breaks the silence, having clearly quickly thought about it.

You and Taehyung look towards Jin. To be honest, you’re not entirely confident with the idea. What if you just burst into tears and babble and can’t even speak? Then what would be the point except to embarrass yourself even more?

Jin purses his lips and then says, “Maybe… Yes. Maybe. Perhaps… Yes. Maybe it’s best. Closure.”

As you walk down you realize he may have just left. It wouldn’t surprise you after he heard your unsure conversation with your friends, never mind the fact that it took you 4 minutes to decide if you would even go down.

But you see him, standing outside the glass door, his back towards you. His hair is glowing under the light and moths flicker and flutter around him intently. It is getting closer and closer to winter and his shoulders look tense. He must be cold.

He’s wearing a light beige shirt, slightly too big on him, and grey jeans. You stop a few steps before you reach the door. You feel this weird feeling. Sort of… a sense of peace. He’s just there. Just a few steps away. You can see him, you can even feel him, but he has no idea you’re there. He can’t turn around and tell you something so hurtful it shakes you to the core, nor can he look at you with those milky yet sharp eyes that make you weak, that make you stay even when you think you’re about to leave.

You nearly sink to the floor to sit in the shadows of the dark hall, so that you can sit here with and without him, for just a little while. But you don’t. You clear your throat, try to garner some courage, then you take two long strides forward, open the door and step out into the cool night.

Jimin jumps back, as if he really didn’t think you’d come down. He’s facing you, looking at you. He stuffs his hands into his jeans’ pockets and dips his head. The wind is strong tonight and your hair is blowing into your face and your nose stings slightly. You realize there’s no need to be out here, in this cold, sharp wind. Realizing that, you speak up.

“It’s 3am and cold. If you have something to say, say it,” You nearly take yourself aback with your own tone, a tone you hardly use, other than with Jungkook… but that was… a while ago now.

He looks up, straightens his back and removes his hands from his pockets.

“I didn’t think you would come down.”

Yet you waited.

“I did,” You say, trying your hardest to keep a flat tone. He needs to know you’re not here to forgive him just because he showed up.

He eventually realizes you’re not here for small talk. “I love you.”

You blink. “W-what?”

“I’m in love with you. I meant it when I said that over the phone. I may have liked Jin. I may have even invited you to that party because I thought it meant he was coming, too. But I love you. I fell for you. And I stayed at it, with you. And I kept falling until I loved you.”

You’re speechless. For perhaps the first time in your life, you cannot for the life of you get yourself to say anything.

“I admit, I could tell you liked me, and tried to get a chance to hang out with your friend through you because I found you less intimidating. I really shouldn’t have done that, especially when I knew you had a crush on me. To be honest, I didn’t think the way you felt for me was strong. I thought it was just an interest. Even then, I know what I did was not ok. So I’m sorry. I’m really sorry that I hurt you. I love you, for fuck’s sake, I don’t want to hurt you!”

He takes a breath.

“But I did. I hurt you. And I can’t fucking…” Another breath, “deal with that.”

You still don’t say anything, so he continues.

“When I was with you, I was really… happy. I wanted to keep being with you. I even thought about just how far our relationship could go, you know? A cute house in the country…” He stops himself and laughs softly, sadly.

“I-” You cut yourself off. You still can’t speak.

“I’m having a dance performance this weekend, Saturday night. At the school’s arts festival. 9pm. If you… want to see me. If you want to talk it out… to try again… I’ll be looking out for you after the performance.”

It looks like he wants to kiss your forehead, but then he hesitates, remembers he shouldn’t. And with that, he leaves.

So you’re left there, alone, on the top step, the bright light hurting your teary eyes, moths bumping into you, irritated that you’re disturbing their desperate mission to reach the light.

You sit down. One would think your mind would be spinning with thoughts. In fact, you’re thinking about nothing at all. You sit on the step for 5 minutes thinking about absolutely nothing at all. You stare out into the distance despite the fact that you can’t see anything in the darkness until you decide you’ve made Taehyung and Jin worry over you enough.

You stand up to leave but Jungkook appears at the bottom of the steps. His forehead is glistening in sweat. Not an acceptable, even alluring amount of sweat, but proper sweat, forming droplets down his cheek and dripping from his chin and the hair that is clumping together over his forehead amount of sweat.

“Were you practicing?” You ask. He’s wearing his uniform so you already know the answer.

“Yeah,” He answers. “What are you doing out here?”

“I just am,” You say.

“I enjoy an occasional rendezvous with the moths myself,” He jokes.

You laugh.

“Is everything ok?” He asks.

You nod. Technically it is. Your house is not burning down and no one died. You’re the same as you were yesterday, except now Jimin has confessed his love.

“Why were you practicing so late?” You ask him.

You realize a conversation at 3am in the cold wind, 10 steps between the two of you, may be a bit strange. Nonetheless, here you are.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Why not?” You ask.

“One of those nights,” He says nonchalantly. Neither of you are being very honest this morning, and both of you are doing a terrible job at hiding it. “You look like you were crying.”

“I wasn’t,” You say. Technically this is true, despite the fact that you were close to it. “Why couldn’t you sleep?” You ask again.

He laughs. He seems frustrated. You realize again that he is much more than an annoying, athletic, snobbish fuckboy. The man has feelings!

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” The classic line, as if you or anyone else who ever gets that response is not trying to find out what is on ‘your mind’.

“Like what?”

He sighs and sits down on the first step, turning his back to you. A sign that he may just be about to tell you.

You hurry down to his level and sit down next to him, sneaking a quick glance at his long eyelashes.

You wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. It is his turn to look out into the darkness.

“You don’t want to talk about it?” You are aware that you may be pestering, but you just want everything to be right between you two. Even though he told you he’s still there for you, things have really been like the legs of a table screeching against the floor ever since the second kiss. He doesn’t respond. “Jungkook?”

“No offense but you’re really the last person I want to talk to about it,” He snaps.

You struggle to hide the offense you have taken. “Why not?”

“Because it’s you! It’s you that’s keeping me up!” He’s practically heaving. “Ok?” He adds, feeling bad for the outburst.

You’re speechless for the second time of your life, and it happens not even 10 minutes after the first time, for a different reason entirely.

“Oh,” You finally whisper, his burning eyes staring you down. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” He asks.

“I clearly did something to upset you if I’m keeping you up-”

“You’re clueless.” He says sharply, standing up and walking into the building before you could say your own name.

-

You’re clueless

It’s you that’s keeping me up

You’ve never had words swirl around your head that are so tangible. Real words that you can still hear, that you can see. If you could just get yourself to move a little further, to dig a little deeper, you could grab them and snap them over your knee.

Clueless.

Indeed you are, because at this point, you don’t know what the fuck is happening anymore.

And you’re sick of the sleeplessness nights, so you don’t bother trudging miserably to your bed. You follow Jungkook right up to his door, probably only missing him by a few seconds.

He opens after the second knock.

His eyes still seem to be burning, his mouth is stiff, his veins are straining as he grips the door.

“So then tell me, if I’m so clueless. Fill me in, won’t you?” You say, pushing past him.

He shuts the door a little too roughly for the hour and spins to face you, crossing his arms.

“Maybe now’s not the best time. I’m upset and you clearly are, too. We’re bound to do or say something we’ll regret when we wake up,” Despite suddenly putting on the ‘mature’ act, which is irritating you to no end, his tone of voice does not match his words. He’s fed up. You’re both fed up. You’re just not entirely sure why.

“You’re the one who brought it up,” You say, now matching his stance, crossing your arms angrily.

“I tried to fucking not bring it up! Remember? You don’t want to talk about it? Jungkook?” He imitates you in an unnecessarily high-pitched voice and flaps his hands about as if that’s how you speak.

He does have a point though.

“You still said something, though! How do you expect me to just go up to bed after that? I’m so sick of these unfinished confrontations. I’m so sick of you being all weird around me.”

“I punched Jimin for you,” He cries.

“And I appreciate the way you handled everything. I do. But you’ve still been… different and that sucks, Jeon.”

“How do you expect me to act, then?”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“What do you mean what do I mean?”

“Stop playing around.”

“I’m not playing around! I just genuinely don’t understand what you don’t understand. Are you really that oblivious, or are you just too cowardly to tell me to my face that you aren’t interested?” His voice is also getting too loud to be acceptable in an apartment block at 4am, but he quickly realizes and then starts to whisper towards the end of his sweeping statement. Not that he needed to fucking whisper he just always needs to be as dramatic as fucking possible.

You’re silent.

His nostrils are flared and his chest is rising and falling dramatically.

“Jungkook.”

“Y/N.”

“After you kissed me at the camp you’ve been acting strange. Colder, angrier and more aloof. That’s all I know, ok? Maybe I am oblivious and I clearly am totally ‘clueless’, but you’re going to have to fill in the blanks. And I know when you’re lying and I’m not going to leave this spot until you’ve told me exactly what the fuck is on your mind.”

“I kissed you, Y/N. What do you think that means?” He waits and when you say nothing he goes, “And I was upset because you stormed off saying something about that fucking Jimin chap.” You still don’t say anything. “And just now I told you that I don’t know if you’re oblivious, or if you’re just too scared to tell me you aren’t interested.” He rolls his eyes when you still don’t say anything. “Is this starting to make sense yet, Y/N?”

He strides up to you, fists clenched by his sides until you can feel his breath, so hot that it burns. You don’t dare look up at him, so he says this next part to the top of your head:

“What I’m saying,” He exhales harshly, “Is that I’ve kissed you twice, and I want to do it again, and I don’t want you to keep fucking running away, and I don’t want you to go off to Jimin or anyone else. I want you to, just for fucking once, kiss me back.”

“Try again.”

“What?”

“Try again,” You say a little louder.

You look up, he doesn’t know exactly what you’re saying, that’s clear from his expression, but he goes ahead anyway, hoping he’s right.

His hands grab your waist, flinging you towards him, closing the small distance between you, and then they abandon their position on your hips in favour of threading themselves into your hair, gripping your head so that he can pull the one part of your body, that should be touching him but isn’t, closer. So that he can finally kiss you. And you can, for fucking once, just kiss him back.

Like his eyes suggested, he is burning. His lips are smolderingly hot, and they’re desperately attaching themselves to yours, clinging on almost painfully, making you yelp and fist his t-shirt. You’re so close to one another that it’s impossible to get any closer, but his left hand still trails down to your lower back and attempts to pull you into him, which causes your groins to, perhaps intentionally on his side, crash into each other.

His teeth graze over your lips nearly every time he changes his mouth’s position, and this makes your knees wobbly, and you find yourself relying on his grip just above your bum to keep you standing. The warmth from your skin has begun to seep through your clothes and mingle with the warmth that seeps through his. Your fingers tug at his strands of hair, still slick with some sweat.

The kiss is getting wetter, and his tongue is finally making its way triumphantly into your mouth, flicking almost angrily at yours, as if it’s saying, “Why the fuck did you make me wait so long?”

He starts edging you backwards, guiding your limp body to the couch, and he falls with you onto it ungracefully, never parting your mouths. His one leg is lying precisely between your thighs, the weight and thickness of it sending you into a nearly disorientated state of bliss.

Your hands grow braver and hook under the waistband of his basketball shorts, caressing his lower back and he enjoys it so much that he parts with you for the first time to let out a throaty, subtle, nearly unnoticed moan.

Holy fuck, you just made Jeon Jungkook moan.

He looks into your eyes for a few seconds before rolling off of you and squeezing his way into lying next to you on his rather small couch. You want to ask him why he has stopped, but you catch a glimpse of the straining in his shorts and know that you both feel the same way. A few moments more and you’d be fucking, and you don’t particularly want to just fuck him. Not right now, not straight away, at least. Once you do that, you’re not sure if there’d be any sanity left, on which you could draw to make any reasonable decisions.

You can say this much, however, you’ve never experienced anything as hard, no pun intended, as restraining yourself from reaching your hand down just a bit, to make him cum in your hand. Oh, how fucking great it would be to feel Jeon Jungkook’s cum in your hands.

“So,” He says, staring at the ceiling as you stare at him, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, then takes a deep breath, then another, before continuing, “that was… something.”

“Something?” You ask.

He tilts his head to look at you and his eyes are sparkling. “I’ve never had a kiss like that. Fuck… I’ve never had anything like that. Not in my entire life.”

“Not even when you made the team in middle school?” You tease.

“That’s a close second,” He retorts, giving you a lazy half-grin that makes your heart swell and spin. “But still nothing like this.”

“Do you think it’s a sign?” You ask, to him and yourself.

“A sign?”

“You know, surely a kiss like that… I mean, what do you think it means?”

“I think it means we should bloody well be together, Y/N. That’s what it fucking means.”

You sit up. Be together? You and Jungkook? Y/N and Jungkook? Jeon Jungkook.

“You mean like… sexually?” You ask, assuming that’s all that he’s hinting at, although knowing deep down that you’re wrong.

“Well, yes, that would be a major plus,” He says.

You get up and run a hand through your hair, silently beginning to freak out. When you look down at him, still lying there, one hand under his head, his one thigh propped up and revealed by his shorts that slip down towards his groin, his pants still slightly tented, you cannot believe you are in this situation. Part of you wants to climb onto him, straddle him and kiss him and rub yourself on him so that he feels so good he won’t ever want to stop. Another part of you, however, wants to run away and pretend this never happened. You’re so scared, and you don’t know why. You’re on high, but you’re also sinking into the ground.

You’re afraid that you’re utterly into him.

In fact, that is exactly what is happening.

That is why you’re so scared, so keen on always running away from him.

You have fallen for him.

-

When you wake up, you feel dazed. Your arm drops off the bed limply and you search the floor for your phone.

11:00 am.

Your head is then instantly filled with images of your encounter with Jungkook just a few hours earlier.

How did you get home? When did you get home? You must have been on such a high that you just floated into bed.

“You OK?” You hear a voice rasp from behind you.

You swing around and feel a flush of relief when you see it’s Taehyung, who still has his eyes closed, his hair sprawled over his features, which sink into the pillow.

“Tae. I didn’t know you slept here,” You say softly.

“You were a bit of a mess when you came home,” He mumbles into the pillow.

“A mess?!”

He chuckles, his eyes still closed. “You kissed Jungkook. It makes sense.”

“Oh fuck,” You say, realization swimming across your eyes, “I remember telling you now. I was pretty high on that.”

He finally opens one eye to get a peek of you and then closes it, breaking out into a heartwarming smile. “High is an understatement. You were soaring.”

“Oh gosh.”

“I wasn’t even mad you made us worry about Jimin abducting you or you running into the night after I saw your face.”

“What will I do, Tae?”

“What do you mean what will you do?”

“I’m really scared.”

“That’s a good sign. That’s what happens when you really, actually, truly like someone.”

“And Jimin?”

“The fact that you even have to ask,” He laughs, now looking at you, “goes to show that… perhaps he’s not the one.”

“I’ve just asked you about Jungkook, too.”

He flicks your forehead. “You really can be daft sometimes.”

“And oblivious,” You mumble under your breath.

“So, you’re going to march over there and have rampant sex, ok?”

You fall back laughing.

“I’m serious. And he’s fucking hot. Honestly surprised you’ve lasted this long.”

“He is kinda good looking, I suppose,” Your cheeks get warm, “but his douchery was a great help in keeping my thoughts under control.”

“Who would’ve thought,” He sighs, “you and Jungkook? After all those years of teasing each other and acting like he had cooties, now neither of you can keep it together when you’re in a 10 mile radius of each other.”

“I still have to talk to him, you know,” You say softly, “I don’t want there to be any space for misunderstanding. I’m struggling to believe any of this is real.”

“Nothing to misunderstand, miss. You like him, he likes you. Remember the whole ‘I think it means we should bloody well be together’ thing?”

You remember clearer and clearer how you rambled off at a speed unheard of to Taehyung when you drifted back home last night.

“What about Jimin?” You ask again.

“What about fucking Jimin?”

“I can’t just skip and dance into Jungkook’s arms when Jimin told me what he told me last night…”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, I can’t.”

“So yes, he’s ‘in love with you’, but you clearly aren’t together anymore so you don’t owe him anything in particular. Maybe in another universe what he said to you would be more than enough to reconcile, however, we’re in this universe, and in this universe you’re so clearly and utterly into Jungkook.”

This is it; this is you admitting it out loud for the first time!

“You’re right. I do want Jungkook.”

“Booyah. So, go talk it out with Jimin, end it on good terms, make it clear you’re over, then, go get your fucking man.”

-

You’re walking out your door to meet Jungkook to walk to class together. You expect to see him leaning against the wall of the passage or to have to wait an extra few minutes for him to emerge from his apartment.

What happens, however, is that you’re whisked into the air as soon as you step out of your door. Jungkook has hooked his arm around your waist from his position next to your door and lifts you over to him. You smack his chest but he just responds by kissing you, which makes you smack him again.

“You can’t just do that!” You hiss, having to catch your breath from just the tiniest of kisses.

“Why not?” He pouts, still clinging to your waist and grabbing a bunch of your shirt.

“I… don’t know,” You admit, cracking an amused smile and making him chuckle.

“Exactly. At least you’re starting to be aware of just how difficult you are.”

“Shush,” You giggle and step backwards and out of his grip so that you can walk away.

His hand slithers into yours and you groan loudly, shaking yourself from it. So he wraps his arms around your shoulders and walks with you in a back hug, which makes you elbow him gently. So he slinks his arm around your waist once more. You push him away and against the wall. He laughs darkly and then steps back towards you, pushing you into the opposite wall and trapping you with his arms on either side of you. You focus on suppressing a squeal like giggle and he smiles a lopsided smile and kisses you again. This time you let him.

He grabs your hip and teases you with his tongue.

“Jungkook,” You laugh and he carries on trying to kiss you, “you really are as horny as the rumours say.”

He bites your lip in return. You want to laugh but the breath is sucked out of you, in all honesty.

“I’m being serious,” You try again. “You can’t just kiss me whenever you want now.”

“Why not?” He asks again, kissing along your cheek and ending with a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I-I don’t know but-”

“Well, we’ll figure that out later,” He interrupts you, “but for now just let me kiss you,” he starts to kiss your neck. “I just have to kiss you,” and now your jaw, “I can’t get enough.” And then your lips.

You tango with his lips for another minute or so. You melt into it entirely but manage to catch yourself to pull yourself back in one last attempt to stop the two of you before you just get fucking down in the passage.

“We can’t actually,” You moan at a particularly delicious bite on the jaw, “do this here.”

He finally lets up but still cannot resist to whisper one last thing into your ear, “Whatever the rumours say, I’m much more horny for you.”

-

You were hoping, praying, that Jungkook would be merciful and leave you be during the lecture. You realize now that you were being entirely too optimistic in thinking he would. Ha, Jungkook and taking it easy on you? A preposterous concept indeed.

“Jungkook,” You grit, swatting his hand from your upper thighs for the third time.

“What?” He asks innocently, beginning his trail from your knee again.

“Really? Truly? Must you be so difficult?”

He chuckles, his fingers waltzing towards your inner thigh. “I’m not the difficult one, is what you must realize.”

“Am I trying to get you hard in a place of education? No. I’m sitting here innocently, trying to take notes.”

“You talking about getting me hard is getting me hard,” He growls softly.

You swallow and try to subtly peek down to his crotch without him noticing, but of course he does and from the corner of your, now hazy, line of vision, you see his teeth glisten as he smirks. He takes your hand in his.

“Would you like me to prove it?”

You don’t say anything, nor do you retract your hand as he moves it slowly down to his pants. Sure enough, through his jeans, you can feel his hardness.

You chew on your lip and dare not look at him as you let yourself rub it for a moment. What a fascinating thing- Jungkook’s dick. Something, despite having thought of at some points throughout your life, you never thought you’d get this close to. You can’t help but feel it curiously. Knowing he’s hard for you fills you with flames. A small groan from him snaps you out of your trance and you snap your hand back into your own lap.

“You’re shameless, Jeon Jungkook.”

“And you’re wet, Y/N Y/S.”

-

“Do you always have to run away from me? Like is it a primal need within you?” Jungkook laughs, reaching his hand to your shoulder to pull you back to him.

You spin around and, with a hand on your hip, say, “Well, I’m mad at you.”

“What is it this time?” He chuckles.

“Your behavior in there,” You point to the lecture hall, “was, quite frankly, unacceptable.”

“You’re the one who was practically giving me a-”

“Shh!” You whisper, shoving a finger onto his lips to silence him and peering past his figure.

Shit!

You practically jump 2 steps away from Jungkook.

“Don’t pretend to be embarrassed,” You barely hear him say.

Did he see you? No, you don’t think so. Oh god, he looks so good. Oh fuck, you need to get out of here.

“I’ve really got to go now,” You tell Jungkook, turning and speed walking away.

Fuck it, Park Jimin. Must you always complicate things? And must you always glow like that?

#jungkook scenario #kwritterskollection #bangtanbuds #bangtanwriters-net #jungkook smut #jimin imagine #jimin smut #taehyung imagine #taehyung smut #jungkook imagine #jin scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #yoongi #hoseok #namjoon #the duff

[thebestplltheories]

PLL The Perfectionists - 1x01 Pilot LIVE REACTION

WE ARE BACK!!!!

Ok I’m gonna do what I was doing for PLL where I react as I watch. But before I copy and paste the live reaction, I want to give my quick overview. That was by far a 10/10. That achieved everything a pilot should achieve. It introduced us to the characters, each of their stories, and the relationships each character has with one another. It set the overall tone, that this is a murder mystery with twists and turns to come. It established what the show is about. And it had occasional small shocks (I say small because there’s only so much that can be shocking in a pilot when everything is brand new). This was exponentially darker than the PLL pilot and for that I’m so grateful. We are cutting the high school airy-fairy (is that word used outside of Australia?) drama and going straight to scandals and a murder. I’m scared to see the ratings tomorrow because I want it to do well but hey it was trending worldwide on Twitter so that’s a good sign!? The show looks SO promising. I think I’m already in love with the cast. I just want to know more about everything and everyone and omg we are back!

LIVE THOUGHTS:

Love this intro! It sets the scene very well about the whole theme of perfectionism.

WAIT IS DYLAN PLAYING POKERFACE BY LADY GAGA HAHAHAHAHA

Okay sorry but that song ain’t it (“two can keep a secret if one of them is dead”). Why does it sound like an auto tuned choir? I’m happy for change. I actually don’t want the exact same version as the original series. But this one ain’t it. Is it too late to change it???

Wait, why is Alison walking around her new apartment like she’s walking around Jenna’s school for the blind in 710? If she lived 2 years of happiness and freedom of A, there’s no need to be so sceptical of danger every time you walk into a room. Anyway, doesn’t really matter.

Just the backing music throughout the scene is very PLL-esque! Yes, there is such thing as PLL backing music. And this is it.

Mona making a grand entrance!

I feel like Ali’s reaction to seeing Mona was a bit... underwhelming? If they haven’t seen each other in 2 years I expected a bit more of an “OMG”, and a “how did you get in my apartment”, etc. But they go straight to the point and cut the fluff so I don’t mind overall.

Mona recruited Ali. I knew it. And she works at BHU, we already knew that.

Emison is having trust issues. But she wants to do this for the kids. Ok I expected more detail there to satisfy the Emison shippers but whatever, I won’t cry at night.

Ok so Mary and Alex escaped Mona’s “dungeon”. That’s fine by me. Maybe that’ll be the storyline for a PLL movie later, who knows. It’s quite a vague answer but what did we expect... Mona to ADMIT to Ali that she captured her aunt? No. Mona could never explicitly say to Ali what she did. Hence the subtle pause before “... escaped me”. Only us the audience know the true meaning of that and I love how subtle yet meaningful it is.

Why do I feel like this security system is gonna play a massive toll throughout the entire series?

Loved the little Easter egg of seeing Mona, and Mona in the mirror (2 Mona’s). A subtle symbol/reference to her split personality in PLL.

I LOVED the scene of Ali teaching in the classroom! I got How To Get Away With Murder vibes...

Remember when we all thought Taylor’s death would be the main death of the show because of that memorial with her name on it... lol. Okay I’m calling it now... come back to this in the apparently mind blowing season 1 finale... Taylor isn’t really dead WE HAVENT TECHNICALLY SEEN A BODY

Love the complicated friendships going on between Dylan, Nolan, Ava, Caitlin! There’s a lot going on about faking being friends and faking tasks to uphold the image of being perfect. I love this theme and I feel like it’s super relevant to today’s world. Like especially social media. Everyone’s instagrams are always filled of their highs. And they’re mostly edited. No one ever posts/shares their low moments.

So no one knows of Ali’s past. Hmmm. We’ve had this discussion before, I don’t think it’s realistic that no one knows the name Alison DiLaurentis - surely that was on national news when “dead girl isn’t dead anymore” made headlines. But anyway. If they wanna pretend no one watches the news, it wouldn’t be the most unrealistic thing PLL has done.

Is Dylan the gay male character Marlene said she was going to introduce in PLL season 5B? Lmao about time.

WOW that flashback of Caitlin and Nolan just gave me PLL season 1 Alison flashback vibes! Nolan plays the bad manipulative guy so well just like Ali played the bully so well in flashbacks!

Two moms don’t make a right hahahaha who wrote that

Sofia looks FLAWLESS in the pool scene OH MY GODDD. AND her voice is so soothing what the hell

Love how the first scene of Nolan’s mother shows her standing on top of the staircase and the camera panning up. Great directing there. Showing she’ll be like a supreme leader. And then the camera being over her shoulders looking down on Nolan. Again great camera work which conveys the message that she is the boss of this town. I think she’ll be our new Jessica DiLaurentis lol

“I’d like some time for myself” ... “to do what?” OUCH why is that so iconic

Eli is... doing great. He comes across very confident. A star in the making?

Love the cinematography period. And Portland is beautiful!! Better than the Warner Bros lot.

Omg Nolan’s mother gathering “attractive” people for her photo op. Lol, they really are big on presenting a perfect image.

“You saw somebody else” NO CAITLIN, ALISON SAW YOU wow these kids will adamantly lie to uphold perfectionism. I keep saying that but I just love this theme!!!

“I know a little bit about manipulation” hahahahaha Ali

Omg Ali is so good at learning their lies. Of course she is, she’s had years of practice

The woods, Nolan? Nothing good ever happens in the woods.

Lol when Nolan tells Dylan to “kiss me” and Dylan actually contemplates it (and does it). That’s the type of power Nolan has over people.

I love how Ali is trying to help them! I can see a bond eventually forming here.

This scene where Nolan cheats on Ava isn’t shocking since they unfortunately shared it in the promos but hey a douche is a douche.

WHAT THE FUCKITY FUCKING FUCK IT’S TAYLOR WHAT DID I JUST SAY ABOVE

OK I KNOW I GUESSED ALEX DRAKE BUT THIS IS A NEW RECORD FOR FASTEST THEORY TO COME TRUE

Well it wasn’t really a theory I was just joking that she’s not really dead because we didn’t see a body but still do I get a point? Lmao

Nonetheless that shocked me! I love that they’re trying to take down their own family, that’s so dark and it’s only episode 1!

Yes Alison is already getting suspicious. Solve this one please Ali

Sorry I put my phone down during that scene in the woods. I just knew it would be juicy and I wanted to immerse in it properly. I frickin adore this scene. It’s creepy in tone, set in the woods like classic PLL, they’re referring to Ali like a friend and my PLL heart is content, and this is the first time they’re all bonding over one thing: wanting Nolan dead. This is probably my favourite scene in the whole episode.

So I’m guessing the vibes are that they were being recorded in the woods about how they want Nolan to be killed? But didn’t Nolan turn off the security?

Mona gets in her car and chucks a big bag in the back seat. Where was she and what was in the baggggg

Ok that was a bit dramatic Ali (“why am I really here”)

Lol I had to rewatch that for a sec. I thought Ali said “and his dead sister who I just saw pick him up” and I was like wait what Ali knows Taylor’s alive??? No, “dead sister who I just saw a picture of”.

OH MY GOD WHAT A MISSED OPPORTUNITY!!!! THAT SCENE WHERE THE 3 OF THEM ARE WALKING AWAY FROM EACH OTHER... NOLAN’S BODY SHOULD’VE FALLEN TO THE GROUND IN THE MIDDLE OF THEM RIGHT THERE! That would’ve been iconic. Like “oh well we were just kidding about all that, good night xx” then nope bam dead body. But I guess he had to die with poles through his chest as Caitlin said.

Oh Marlene. That’s a LOT of dialogue for a death scene. I hope you can back up and explain what Nolan is talking about before he died. Don’t you dare tell me that was an interpretative dream. Again that’s a lot of dialogue for a death scene. You better know who that killer is Marlene! Don’t make it up the day you write the finale!

I don’t like how we didn’t see Nolan ACTUALLY be killed. They play it safe because they don’t want to show us the killer in action. they basically copied the format of Mona’s “death”. Just change the scene to a flashing ambulance with a lame transition lol.

Another missed opportunity. Mona should’ve said to Ali “they found a body”! That would’ve been iconic in every way possible. First it was Ali’s body now Ali is finding a body and hearing the news and ugh oh well

My god that’s a violent death. And pretty early in the series for a Noel-Khan-level death. Too bad the photos leaked online and we knew that Nolan would not only die, but die like THAT. Those extras/fillers on set really should get charged for having their phones on them and leaking shit. Isn’t there copyright laws or something???? idk

Ummmmmm what? What kind of sci-fi, dollhouse level bullshit is that? That’s kinda over the top. Ehhhh. We’ll see where that goes.

My brain right now instantly got to thinking if Nolan’s murderer will be the “A” of the series or if the killer will just be the main mystery for season 1? Is “who killed Nolan” going to be the overarching story of the entire show or will they answer that sooner rather than later and then start a new mystery? I wonder what the format of this show will be. That’s where my mind is right now as the credits play.

#PLL #pretty little liars #pll the perfectionists #the perfectionists #pll theories #plltp #tp #alison dilaurentis #pretty little liars theories

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Landing (Loki x OFC)

Requested by Anon on 11/15 to Loki-the-fox: Oh my god!! You’re asexual and you write ace ships! There aren’t words for how happy I am! Could you please do one of Ana with Loki? The setting is that Infinity War didn’t happen, and the Asgardians make it to Norway, where Ana is in hiding. She was Loki’s best friend on Asgard, and she tired to help him when everyone ignored him, but he snubbed her over his obsession with gaining Odin’s approval. They’re meeting again, and he’s realized he loves her and tries to win her back. Thanks so much!

Oh dear. I’m not ace and I’m not Loki-the-fox but I hope I can write something good enough for you, dear Nonny. Here goes nothing.

Want my Masterlist? Seach “Kit’s Masterlist”

Loki x ofc, Rated PG, no warnings. 

Summary: Ana and Loki had been childhood friends. Ana had always saw the best in Loki. They told each other everything until they grew apart. When years passed and she was all but forgotten in Loki’s eyes she left to settle somewhere far away. When she’s placed in charge of helping the Asgardian people settle on Earth she’s forced to come face to face with the life she left behind. For Loki, thinking that he had come so close to losing her forever caused a shocking revelation. 

Landing

“Are you searching for something, Brother?” Thor called out as Loki entered the cockpit of the ship.

“Ana.” Loki reluctantly admitted. “I’ve not seen her on the ship at all… Many were left behind.”

“Ana wouldn’t be on the ship. Were you not aware she left Asgard centuries ago?” Surprise colored Thor’s voice.

Loki and Ana had been close for as long as he could remember. They were an odd pair in truth but she was always willing to see the best in his brother when everyone had given up reaching out to him. She saw the best in Loki when even Thor wasn’t able to.

“No, I suppose not.” The chair puffed a little glitter when Loki sat down heavily in it. What the bloody hell did the Grandmaster do to have glitter in a transport ship’s cockpit? Actually, it was better to not think about that.

“She came to Father to request dismissal and permission to settle elsewhere. I had assumed she’d told you.”

Ana had shared everything with loki as far as Thor was aware. His brother was even open with her. The idea that she’d leave and not speak a word to him was strange.

“To where did she go?” Loki leaned forward, clasping his hands together. At least she was alive. He’d made so many mistakes, so very many of them. Casting her aside was just one thing toward the top of a very long list. At least he still had a chance to fix things.

“Of that I do not know.” Thor watched Loki as he sank deep into thought.

“Come on, let me take you out- Dinner, a show maybe some drinks after?” Mark was annoying as ever. Nearly every week like clockwork he would be at Ana’s desk and asking her out on a Friday afternoon. Every single week she’d turn him down.

“Come on, Annabella?” He whinned and god did she hate that name. No matter how often she was called it, ‘Annabella’ never sounded right. It made for a great cover name for a made up identity.

“It’s just Anna.” She reminded him. “And no, I’ve got dinner with my sister tonight. Sorry?”

It killed her to put up with this sniveling baby of a man. But that was the way of women on Earth. That’s how they were expected to behave. Additionally, she made good money working for the government and if she made waves and talked to HR, handling things the human way she’d likely be out of a job. Sexist pigs.

“Annabella?” Again with the name, this time from Mr. Hage, her direct supervisor.

She sighs and turns to face her supervisor, “Just Anna is fine, really.”

“Walk with me.” The man didn’t stop, rather he kept walking passed her and expected her to keep up. “This is your chance to prove your with. Your resume mentioned extensive knowledge of Norse culture.” Okay it wasn’t concerning at all to have your resume reviewed after being in a position for years. Not at all. Especially when most of it is fake.

“Yes Sir.” Why did she bother answering? He just kept on talking over her.

“This is a whole new world we are living in. Can you believe it? We are welcoming aliens to set up a city on earth. What the hell could go wrong?”

“A lot, sir.”

“Exactly! From what I understand from information provided by the goddamn Avengers- The Avengers! We have superheros now. The world is going to shit. They said these aliens’ culture is similar to Norse and Vikings and all that shit. You’re going to go over and be our feet on the ground as they settle in the chuck of land Norway decided to give them. Let’s just let them make a whole new country- why the hell not? Anyway- Be our eyes and ears. I don’t trust them, the UN doesn’t trust them and dammit if they are going to invade and infiltrate the world’s governments I want to know asap so I can tell those fucks ‘I told you so’.”

Ana nodded dumbly as she tried to follow the conversation. Norway, where the Asgardians would be. Where her people would be. And this idiot was worried about aliens taking over the world.

She couldn’t help but wonder what he would think if he found out that she was Asgardian since she already held a government job. She’d lived in the human world for a few centuries now, moving around and changing identities as needed. The human world was something she knew well now and let’s face it- it’s not all that great.

“You leave tonight.” He said as he opened his office door. “In your inbox you’ll find the details.”

“I’m leaving when?!” The door closed in Ana’s face as she gaped at it. “Guess I’ll see him again after all.”

As much as she didn’t want to seek him out, Ana couldn’t help but look for him as Thor stepped off the first ship. A stream of people followed him but she didn’t see Loki by his bother’s side. He should have been there. He was too arrogant to not be by his brother’s side and in the spotlight as much as Ana wanted to tell herself otherwise.

And where was Odin? He should have been the first off the ship, not a prince. How the hell had Asgard been destroyed anyway? Intergalactic news was hard to get living on Earth and while she normally didn’t care for it, right now she had so many questions. Maybe Thor could answer some for her- she’d have to meet with him anyway.

The doors of the second and third ship open and ramps roll down. A stream of people flow out and she knows it’s not nearly the whole population of Asagrd. Either more ships were coming or this was everyone that managed to make it to safety. Many were likely lost. It would explain why a small portion of Norway was big enough to become home to all their people.

Finally, she spots him. Loki was the last one off the first ship and her breath catches in her lungs when she catches sight of him. She didn’t expect to be so damn worried about him but it took a weight off her to see him alive and well.

Somehow he looked taller but surely that was a trick of the clinging leather. His hair had gotten long and it oddly suited him. Some of the curls were as wild as he was, though most seemed tamed. Just like him.

Finding her feet she pushed forward through the crowd of reporters and officials to welcome them. She had a job to do. She was appointed by the goddamn UN. Hopefully no one would recognize her.

“Get the food out and prepared. These people need food and water- they’ve had a long trip without proper supplies. Children, elderly and ill get priority.”

Loki knew that voice anywhere. Looking out over the sea of people, human and Asgardian both beginning to mingle, and looked for her. There were large white tents set up with tables and chairs. Platters full of food but none of that caught his attention for more than a passing moment. She was here somewhere.

“Thor?” There was that voice again. “My name is Annabella- You can just call me Anna. I am your liaison to coordinate with the UN the settling of the Asgardian people-”

“King Thor, it is as you said. You’ve delivered us to safety!” A woman shouted over the crowd to him as she guided her small children toward the food.

‘King Thor’? Ana wondered when that happened. It did explain however why Odin was absent. It also settled who she would be working with to settle the people.

Thor laughed and clapped a man on the back as he offered praise to the King before turning back to her. Please don’t recognize me. Please don’t recognize me.

“Ana?” Loki’s voice cut through her like a blade. Fuck. Fuckity fuck.

“I knew you looked familiar!” Thor bellowed, wrapping her up in his arms. “It’s been far too long! So this is where you settled? Have the humans embraced you well? One Asgardian here already gives us hope to find our place!” Ana’s feet dangled off the ground.

“Brother, put her down before you break her.”

“Loki was just asking after you not even a few day’s time ago!” That was interesting, Ana thought as her feet settled on the ground. She’d not expected her old friend to even spare her a thought.

“Ah- yes well.” Clearing her throat she put business first again. “They believe me as human as they.”

“Why?” Loki scoffed.

“The people here where not ready for such knowledge when I settled. It doesn’t matter anyway. Not everyone is pleased that you’ve come to settle but it’s my job to make it as seamless as possible for everyone. You’re people will have food and water for the first month or so without question but we must settle a plan for them to become self sufficient.” Ana tried not to give Loki too much of her attention.

“Ana?” Loki called out when she turned away. She didn’t even look back as she walked away.

“Did you and her have a falling out?” Thor questioned as Loki dumbly watched her walk away.

“None that I’m aware of.” Loki couldn’t think of why she left, why she was being so cold now. It wasn’t like her. She always gave him the benefit of doubt. It was her that always saw the best in him no matter how low he had fallen.

“Annabella, I’m calling it a night if that’s okay?” Sarah called into the tent that Ana had claimed her home for the time being.

“Sounds good.” Anna glanced but the tent flap was already closing behind Sarah as she retreated to her on tent. “And it’s just Anna!”

She wasn’t aware of Loki lounging against the file cabinet behind her. He took in her appearance. She’d changed some over the many years. Yet her long brown hair was just as smooth as he remembered, holding just the slightest wave that would remind him of the sea. She had such piercing green eyes that always commanded the full attention of whoever she turned them on. In short- she was just as beautiful as he had remembered and it caused Loki’s heart to clench in his chest. When he feared she’d been left behind, that she was one of the dead he had realized something he hadn’t gave thought to before.

At some point he’d grown to love the woman who had been his oldest friend. Yet he hadn’t even noticed when she left him. He was too caught up in his own ambitions. It took thinking she’d been left for dead, that she’d been lost for him to realize. Now he had to get her back, win her heart. He could manage that much, couldn’t he?

“I’m rather fond of Annabella myself.” Loki’s voice came from behind her and she hated how she jumped.

“Just Anna is fine.” It was a goddamn automatic response at this point and Loki laughed before sobering as she turned to him. “Why did you leave? Why did you not tell me?”

“Why do you care?” She shot back.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Just leave me alone Loki, that’s what you do.”

Loki was befuddled. “Is that what you think? You’re the one that left.”

“When did you notice?” That shut him right up. “Well?”

“Ana-”

“No. We used to be close. You used to tell me everything and I used to tell you everything. Then you came less and less. Then you only came when you needed me. Then you stopped coming at all. Why?”

“Ana, let me-” She was on a roll now. Centuries of hurt that had been bottled up came rushing forward and she hated the sting of tears in her eyes.

“All because you wanted to be good enough to someone who never gave a damn about you. Yeah, you were his son. Yeah, you are a prince. But to me you were a friend and I loved you.” Her breath caught as he looked down in shame.

“Loved?” How soft his voice was.

“Go away Loki.”

“Perhaps you can love me again?” Ana was lost for words as he gave her one last glance before leaving her be.

The next morning when she awoke there was a package on her table. Looking around she couldn’t spot anyone in her tent or a sign of who may have left it. Simple brown paper wrapped the item and a simple black cord held the paper closed.

Unwrapping it slowly she found a book. It wasn’t any book. She’d not seen it since they were young. It was a dumb book she made when they were children. In it she had recorded their adventures- or what she called their adventures when she was young.

Where she had left it so very many years ago she couldn’t say. Discarded somewhere when she gave up hope on Loki. When they drifted away she stopped recording events in it, there was nothing new to record. But still, a smile spread across her face as she flipped through the pages filled with stories written by hand and a few keepsakes.

As she looked, an envelope fell out. Picking it up she could see the familiar sweeping letters that were so unique to Loki. “read me” he simply wrote, answering the question of where the book came from.

“I found this left on a bench forever ago. It was my intention to return it to you but- as you said, I left you alone. For that I’m terribly sorry. Might you consider allowing me to make it up to you?”

“Fine.” Ana sighed as the sound of Loki’s chuckle filled the tent. Of course he was hiding there. He never was one for personal boundaries. “But don’t blow my cover at least. My boss isn’t too fond of this whole set up.”

“As you wish.”

That day, Loki began attempting to court the Lady Ana, whom he would sometimes call Annabella just to see what she would throw at him in the moment. He’d give gifts and they’d spend hours talking just as they had as children.

It took months before one night as they sat looking at the stars, Ana rested her head on Loki’s shoulder. Looking down at her, he smiled. While he never expected it, he knew that she was the one that was always there for him. She was always for him. Yet he doubted if she thought the same.

“What?” She didn’t even look up at him.

“Ana?” That drew her eyes to him. “I have something to confess. It doesn’t change anything but I must speak it.”

“Okay?”

“I love you. I’ve probably always loved you. You needed to know. I needed you to know.” He was babbling almost, regretting saying anything because they were friends. She’d never shown any interest in him as a lover or mate.

“I love you too.” Well that was unexpected.

“You do? Ana, I mean I love you as a more then a friend. Nothing has to change...”

“I know.” Looking down at her hands, she continued. “I do love you. I know I’ve never felt this way.”

“We’ll find our way.” Loki’s arm draped around her shoulder and he pulled her close, allowing her to better rest against him. “I’ll never leave you again.”

Tag List: @winterisakiller, @bambamwolf87, @dangertoozmanykids101, @alexakeyloveloki, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @missaphrodite23, @theoneanna, @j-u-s-t-4

Want in on the everything tag list? Just ask <3

#loki x ofc #loki x oc #loki x original female character #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction

[heck-yeck-deck-tech]

Hey! I'm a high school tech person, asm/build crew/run crew, and im one of the most dedicated people in our tech class (there s a group of like 5 of us who pour our heart and soul into this) point is I really love tech, want to go into it as a field, and recently just majorly fucked up on my current build, meaning that we have to rip the luon off the platform and recut it, wasting both time and luon. I'm feeling really guilty about this because i know its a mistake we can't afford 1/2

2/2 (the mistake was the luon wasnt square to the frame because its hard to cut straight for 8ft using a circle saw). Anyway I’m feeling hella guilty about it, feel like it’s a mistake that wouldn’t fly in a professional setting, and obviously im gonna work my ass off to correct it but I guess what I’m getting at is how do you deal with build/before opening mistakes? What mistakes are unforgivable? How do you apologize to your SM/designer for fucking up?

–

Hello, dear anon -

First off, no mistakes are unforgivable. (That it’s difficult to cut 8′ in a straight line with a circle saw is one of the biggest moods, I gotta say.)

Some mistakes are what we in the industry might colloquially call “really fucking inconvenient” but nothing is unfixable. Sure, you mis-cutting a sheet of luan costs your theatre time and money, but it’s not likely to be the end of the world, even if in the moment it may well feel like it, because of the time and budgetary constraints you’re under. 

But here is a secret: no theatre has enough money, and no theatre has enough time. That is why they hire technicians like you and everybody else you work with now or will ever work with in the future, to make the best use of the time and material the theatre does have. 

The fact that you are there, dedicating time and energy and attention to detail to your work means that your theatre is already much better off than they would otherwise be. Your guilt will make you careful in the future and means that you have high standards now, and to that end it’s useful. But beyond that, if it’s keeping you from trusting in your own ability the way you used to, or affecting the way you talk to your boss, then it is no longer helpful to carry it around with you. 

And yes, perhaps a mistake like this is less likely to occur in a professional setting. It is likely though, that this is only because they have had decades of experience doing the thing you’re doing now. And, I have to say, I’ve worked with professionals (for this, I’m defining it as someone who makes money doing theatre) and they have made mistakes. They have attached things upside down, painted things the wrong color, loaded in bits of the set in a really stupid order, and they have yelled at their underling technicians. There have been some weird, weird fixes that really didn’t look like the set model we were given. And that’s just how theatre is: we (or our bosses) plan as much as possible, and try to solve problems in advance as much as possible, but sometimes it comes down to solving problems in the moment, and that is not worse.

You will never not make mistakes. A million times in your career, you will do something that will cause you grief and cost your theatre something. A million times in my theatrical career (such as it is), I have made mistakes that have cost my theatre time and money. That is, unfortunately, just how it be sometimes. We are people and there are some things we do better than machines, and some things machines do better than us. Of course, just because it will happen doesn’t mean it’s something we as technicians have to be okay with, and the attitude I’m finding that helps me handle mistakes, anywhere in the production process, goes something like this:

Yes, I made a mistake, and yes it seems like a very large mistake right now. But I will work to fix this mistake as cleverly as I can, to the best of my ability. And hopefully I will fix it so excellently the audience thinks it’s an artistic choice (because in fact, this is something audiences do, and go home to talk to their friends about). And then I will do my best to remember or find out why this happened, and endeavor not to make this same mistake again.

It is long and full of commas. Sometimes I paraphrase for efficiency: Fuckity fuck, I done fucked up. Let me not fuck up this specific thing again, fuck!

In regards to apologizing to your designer or stage manager for fucking up, I think that is a fine thing to do. I find that it is helpful not to beat oneself up during the apology, even if that feels necessary, because then it puts the other person in the often uncomfortable position of having to put their own emotions on hold to handle those of the person apologizing, and that isn’t necessarily fair. 

The most recent time I messed up a cut, I was cutting facing for the side of a staircase with a jig saw the Friday before tech. I was very nervous the whole time, and as careful as I was capable of being at the time. When I finished, a couple of the stair sides weren’t straight lines, and I was quite devastated. I went to my TD and said something like this, “Hello. I have cut some of the edges on this stair facing not as well as I would have liked, and I apologize. What is it that I could do to fix this?”

I have gotten quite good at apologizing for things like this, and I tend to do it the above way because the person you’re reporting to will likely have a better understanding of the big picture than you will, and will be able to prioritize the things most correct for the production when making choices about how to fix this. In your case, it is in fact possible to re-cut the luan and reattach it. This is very good. While the other 8′ piece won’t work for this build, it’s definitely large enough to save and be used in other shows. 

You also mention that you’re in high school; this is also very good. This means that the people you are working under know that you’re still studying this craft, and framing part of the apology as wanting to learn how to solve the problem helps your designer or SM approach the situation (because almost certainly your instructor has, over the course of their career, encountered a mistake like this before. And if they haven’t, then it becomes what I consider the essence of technical theatre - problem-solving under pressure.)

In the end, a clever solution is almost better than not messing up to begin with. Your theatre might lose time or money or a seamless join in a wall, but you working for them and making mistakes while doing that is a side effect of them investing in you. They might lose money and time now, but they now have you, Smarter and Improved from this whole endeavor.  

I hope this was useful. As always, if any other theatre folks have something to add, by all means, please do it.

With much affection, Ky

P.S. I hope this is not too much to ask, but it would be helpful if you let me know if this was useful to you (if you’re comfortable), mostly because I’m winging this whole advice thing and I really hope I’m not leading folks astray.

#ky answers asks #ky gives questionable life advice #theater #theatre #tech theater #tech theatre #techblr #sceneblr #anonymous ask #luan anon #ky speaks #hydt originals

[emilyjunk]

baby

lobstersweettarts asked:  Can you do one about Beca going into labor with baby from chapter 15 please? It would be cute with her feeling huge and achy and sick, trying not to panic and trying to breathe thru contractions as they get ready for the hospital, while Emily goes around, being as stoic as she can for her sake, helping her to feel better rubbing her back and squeezing her hips, but also so excited. That would be cute

read on AO3 or below

Emily’s prepared for this. She’s read all the books, talked to all the right people, blogged on all the right blogs.

“Fuck fuck fuckity fuck!!”

She guesses nothing really prepares you for having a baby, though. And she’s not the one even giving birth!

“Okay, Beca, baby, just… just breathe, honey okay?”

Beca glares at her in the way only pregnant-Beca has ever glared at her, but Emily’s like, totally used to it by now. It’s been about six months since the glares started and she never really even thought they were scary, she just found them cute.

It’s a little scary now, though.

“Okay, right, yeah, you’re doing that. Mhmm.”

Beca groans, both her hands splayed against her lower back as she paces the hospital room. “This has been happening for hours. When will it be over?”

Emily’s a bit at a loss here. Beca won’t sit still long enough for Emily to do any of the things she prepared for, like giving Beca a hot compress or feeding her ice chips or those massages they learned in the LGBT-parent birthing classes they attended.

She pouts at her wife.

“Do you want me to get the midwife?”

Beca moans, looking at Emily pleadingly. “I want those drugs.”

Emily hesitates. “You wanted to try without the drugs, sweetheart, remember? And she said you were at the 6 centimeter mark last time she checked, that means we might be too close to birth for our backup drug plan.”

Beca groans again as another contraction comes on. “Motherfuckerrrrrrrrrrrr.”

Emily hurries to her side, her hands hovering helplessly around Beca’s same-size-as-Beca stomach.

“Oh my God,” Beca gasps as it ends. “Birth fucking blows.”

Emily likes to think she’s been a champ through everything. Beca is the best thing in her life, and having a baby with Beca was like, her number one wish in this whole world, so when Beca got pregnant, Emily had been determined to be the perfect partner and give Beca everything she needed.

She’d gone to the store at 2am for Beca’s sauerkraut craving. She’d rubbed Beca’s feet endlessly. She’d accompanied Beca to every doctor’s appointment, stopped drinking coffee so Beca wasn’t left out. She’d befriended all the hospital nurses and the midwife by baking them cookies so they’d be extra good to her inevitable-monster-of-a-wife when the time finally came.

(Beca had teased her about that one, joking that the nurses were going to fall in love with Emily despite her clearly pregnant wife.)

She’d been stoic through the morning sickness, calm and collected through the cravings. She’d been the supportive voice of reason whenever Beca questioned her own ability as a mom, when her emotions got the best of her and she doubted everything about herself she’d ever known for certain.

Emily was meant to play this role, to fill the slot of the perfect-pregnancy-partner.

That’s all going out the window now. As tears fill Beca’s eyes, her wife sweaty and red and in clear pain, Emily’s on the verge of a panic attack.

She’s helpless to do anything and seeing Beca hurting with such an intensity terrifies her.

She’s trying not to cry, to keep it together for Beca’s sake, but it’s so freaking hard. It takes only one more contraction with Beca contorting in pain for Emily to break.

“I’m gonna get the midwife babe, okay? I’ll be right back, I swear.”

She practically sprints out the door, intent on finding the midwife, and runs right into the woman in the hallway.

“Oh. Emily.” The midwife - Molly - smiles at her. “How’s it going in there? How’s Beca?”

“Horrible,” Emily gasps. “She wants the drugs.”

Molly looks at her knowingly, like she gets this all the time. “Emily, we discussed this, remember? You guys wanted to try it without first. We have the Demerol on hand and as a backup we have --”

“I know what we decided,” Emily interrupts. “But she’s hurting.”

“Of course.” Molly rubs her arm reassuringly. It’s just not reassuring, like, at all. “Most women who decide against the drugs start asking for them once labor begins. That’s why we decide beforehand, when the mother is in a better frame of mind.”

Emily nods. “Right, yeah I know that. But I think Beca knows now what she wants. Like she knows, okay? She knows. She knows.”

Molly gives her a placating smile. “Okay, well let’s check on her and see, okay?”

She leads Emily back into the room where Beca’s looking like the opposite of million bucks, her arms wrapped around herself tightly. Emily barely stops herself from bursting into tears.

“Hey, Beca,” Molly says. Beca just grunts,. “How you doing? I’m gonna measure you, alright?”

Molly does her thing between Beca’s legs and Emily grabs Beca’s hand (honestly more for herself than for Beca, but she’ll probably never admit that because she was supposed to be good at this, not the emotional wreck she’s currently trying to repress).

Beca squeezes her tightly when another contraction comes through, intense and violent. Emily’s fingers might have fallen off but she can’t feel them anymore so she doesn’t know either way. A sob wrenches through Beca and Emily trembles.

Stay calm, Emily. Your job is to stay calm.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu --” Beca gasps, trying to curl into herself. There are tears on her cheeks and her eyes are clenched shut.

“Um,” Emily squeaks. “See, let’s do the drugs. She wants them. Can’t you give her something?”

Molly’s shaking her head, moving to the nurse call button. “No, Emily, we --”

“Listen, I know what we planned. But I think that ship has sailed here.”

Beca’s crying harder now -- yeah, her wife, the strong, brave, stoic Beca Mitchell, is openly sobbing in front of random people -- and Emily’s about had it.

Stay calm, Emily. Stay calm!!!!!!

“Emily,” Molly says seriously. “Okay, it’s too late for that. Beca’s --”

“CAN WE PLEASE JUST GET MY WIFE THE FUCKING DRUGS?”

Everyone freezes, even the distraught Beca, staring at her. Emily’s never been anything but polite to these people, has probably hardly been anything but polite to her wife of five years, but she’s losing it here. She can’t take this.

She squares up, waiting for Molly to rip her a new one, but Molly just laughs. “That’s the spirit, Emily. But as I was saying, it’s go-time. We’re at ten centimeters. That means it’s time to push.”

Emily stares. “P-push?”

“The baby’s coming.” Molly grins as the other nurse comes in, handing her some latex gloves. “Hear that, Beca? Time to push.” Molly gives Emily a meaningful look and Emily jumps into action.

“Oh. Right. Yeah.” She leans toward Beca, her heart aching, fear and excitement and mostly fear did she say fear buzzing through her. “The baby’s coming.”

“Is it a baby or a --” Beca gasps, her face contorting “-- or a fucking bowling ball?”

Emily hears some kind of hysterical laughter that doesn’t sound like her own coming from her mouth. “I’ll make sure to check.” She brings Beca’s hand to her lips. “You got this okay, I know it’s horrible, but you can say fuck as many times as you want even if it’s in front of the baby. This totally is an exception, you get a giant free pass, okay? I love you. I love this baby already. Do you think it’s a boy or a girl. I can’t wait to find out. I don’t care either way. It could even not be one of those things and I’m still not gonna mind. It could be a robot and I won’t mind. It’s our baby, wow you made it like, inside you. Isn’t that crazy, Bec?”

She thinks Beca laughs but she’s totally pushing and it doesn’t seem like a laugh as much as a scream. “Rambl...ing.”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m so good at rambling. It’s really distracting, isn’t it? You can totally barely feel the pain right?”

“N - no.”

Beca pants desperately. Molly and the nurse are saying something, to each other, to Beca, Emily has no freaking clue. She’s just trying to get them both through this experience without either of them fainting.

“Squeeze my hand if it hurts. I don’t even care if my fingers fall off. Who needs fingers when you have a baby?”

Beca’s ignoring her, but that’s okay. She’s squeezing tighter. Emily couldn’t move from her side if she wanted to.

They somehow manage to make it through, Beca pushing and screaming and crying, and Emily trying not to scream or cry. One second Molly’s yelling “keep going almost there you’re doing great Beca!” and the next second, the shrill cry of a newborn infant pierces the room.

“Baby!” Molly yells triumphantly, holding up a raisin thing in her arms.

Beca finally releases Emily’s hand, slumping against the bed. Emily’s staring at the raisin thing. “Baby,” she murmurs, dumbfounded.

“He’s a boy!” Molly beams. Then she’s sweeping him away to do her midwife stuff. Emily leans over, putting her hands on Beca’s cheeks.

“Bec?” Beca grunts, exhausted. Emily wipes away the tears and smiles. “Bec, we have a boy.”

Beca smiles, her hand tiredly reaching up to grab Emily’s face. “Yeah.”

“You’re so amazing, I’m so in awe of you.” Emily finally does cry. She made it through but she can’t make it any longer. The tears come pouring out. “I love you so much, you’re so awesome.”

Beca snorts.

“MY WIFE IS AWESOME!” Emily screams, kind of at the midwife, kind of at nobody in particular. “She’s a fucking superhero.”

“She is,” Molly agrees, finally appearing back in front of them. Their boy is cleaner and - and - and perfect. He’s perfect.

“Oh.” Emily says, her tears renewing with an unmatched fervor. Molly places him in her arms and Emily stares.

He’s pinched and wrinkly and crying, but he has Beca’s eyes, a beautiful, vibrant blue.

Emily’s never loved something - someone - so much in her life.

She looks back at Beca in awe. Her wife made this person. He’s theirs. They have a family.

She gently lowers him down to Beca’s chest, watching Beca meet him for the first time. Beca’s eyes go wide, exhaustion forgotten. Her face is open in amazed wonder, staring at their tiny son. Emily’s breath catchers in her throat.

She thinks she falls in love all over again.

“Hi,” Beca whispers, her voice raspy and thick. She looks back at Emily. “He’s so small.”

Emily nods, overwhelmed into silence. They stare at their boy together, holding hands and watching his tiny chest move up and down, his baby fingers reaching for nothing.

“I love you,” Emily repeats for the hundredth time that night (she thinks it’s still night. She kind of lost track). She presses a kiss to Beca’s palm. “I just really love you.”

Beca’s smile is tired but true. “I love you, too. He’s pretty dope, isn’t he?”

Emily chuckles. “He’s the dopest.” She squeezes Beca’s hand, vibrating with happiness. “Let’s have another.”

Beca glares daggers at her. “Too soon, Emily. Too soon.”

“Well we can adopt this time?”

Beca grunts, her eyes shutting. “Wake me when he’s ten.”

Emily swats at Beca’s shoulder playfully, but Beca’s already dozing. She lifts their son off her lap and holds him close to her chest.

“Hi,” she coos at him, careful not to wake Beca. “You probably already know this, but you have the bravest, most awesome mom in the whole world. You’re gonna be so loved, baby.”

He doesn’t even have a name yet, but he already occupies every bit of space in Emily’s heart.

Nothing could have prepared her for this, but staring down at her sleeping wife and newborn son, she thinks that’s okay. They have each other and that’s all she needs.

#bemily #beca mitchell #emily junk #pp fic #minifics #minific #my writing #BABY #smol #beca cry??? emily attac???? who woulda thot

[x-purpose]

I have finished a blast-through play on beginner mode.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

The good thing is very little has changed for my muses, beyond them being... probably defunct but this series cannot keep its sticky paws off ressurecting people and there’s always past set threads and AUs.

A dose of random, highly spoileriffic stuff under the cut just as my brain screams it

I was honestly surprised how much Xemnas came out with things that only confirmed my headcanons, especially about his attitude to the heart.

Ansem is... holy FUCK, Ansem is closer to my deeper developed stuff that only tends to come out in AUs and has rarely ever come out at all because I've never RP'd with anyone who can drag it out of him because canon Ansem must maintain an aura of superior assholery at all times.  I did *not* expect that.  

Absolutely zero about the apprentice years, but Ansem, Xemnas AND TERRANORT as three seperate people confirmed.

Only real big thing I’m going to have to get my head around is Guardian, because the popular theory that I was not overly keen on went and fucking called it: Guardian is/was Terra’s Heartless.

There are VERY few big answers in the game.  It’s... all a bit of a mess, sadly.  Everyone’s Fave Trios(TM) get semi-wrapped up endings in that they are alive and together, and as for the others... either cameo appearances, nada, and one FUCKITY SHIT WHAAAAAAT.

Make up your goddamn mind is it Axel or Lea what do we call this idiot.

There is so much stuff that gets glossed over because the game is 99% from Sora's pov.  But I would have liked a LOT more to clear up what the apprentices were up to, and how Roxas got back.  

THE BIG, INCOMPLETE LIST OF SHIT THAT SEEMS TO GO NOWHERE (in no particular order): - Ienzo implying Aeleus having something against Roxas early on?   - Ansem the Wise returning, and Ienzo, Even, Aeleus and Dilan's stories - Ansem the Wise's data.  Just gets totally dropped though it’s decypherment/use implied in Roxas coming back.   - the Book of Prophecies - Kairi's memories, and the fact that she was Xehanort's lab rat - Who "she" is that Lea and Isa were trying to rescue, (though the clear implication is Kairi) - Which one of "the chosen" was Vexen talking about?  Whose "idea this whole thing was"?  I have a couple of theories but it’s not clear and not brought up again - Vanitas.  He just ups and disappears with no real conclusion at all.  Could have been much better. - Demyx, Luxord, Marluxia and Larxene.  Everything about them, why they joined the new org, HOW they had enough conenction to Xehanort (OR LUXU??????), their apparent (shared?!?) keyblade heritage (presumably coming in KHUX), and what happened to them.   - KAIRI FUCKING BEING THERE AT THE END AND SORA DISAPPEARING, WHAT?  WHAT!?!? - THE BOX PLOTLINE NEVER GOES ANYWHERE UNTIL THE EPILOGUE AND THAT IS A SEQUEL HOOK WITH THE THINGS STILL NOT OPEN AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I FUCKING KNEW BRAIG/XIGBAR WAS IN IT FOR A LONGER GAME THAN XEHANORT... but yeah, while what actually happened was a possibility it was an outside one in my mind.  Obviously this is a huge deal, and on a strictly personal, not-overly-involved-with-the-character-but-fucking-love-him level, I am thrilled that he’s set up to be a major player in... whatever the fuck happens next, and will hopefully continue to be his glorious asshole troll self.

I am a lot less thrilled about the need to have less of a sequel hook and more of a “let’s answer nothing important and blow the ending wide open”.  Square Enix has BADLY lost its way on good, disciplined storytelling in recent years.  Though I gues it gives us fans/RPers a lot to do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#kh3 spoilers #KH3 SCREAMING #kh3

[sadlittlenerdking]

Take Me Away

OPERATION KICK DEPRESSION AND NANOWRIMOS ASS 12 OF 50

Word count: 1,570 (hahahah oops)

Summary: Quentin and Eliot wipe their memories and knowledge of magic for a chance at happiness.

Anon prompted: Queliot -- mind wipe?

They meet in a little coffee shop. It feels set up, when a tall man with curly hair bumps into Quentin, and spills his both of their coffees all over them. Quentin can’t even freak out, beyond staring at the stain seeping through the mans white shirt, and the soft, billowing curls of his hair.

There’s somebody about him that seems familiar. But it doesn’t matter, because the man is freaking out.

“Fuckity fuck fuck!” He spreads his arms--his long, long arms--wide, and shakes off the coffee clinging to his fingertips.

It flies through the air and lands on Quentin’s nose. Quentin stumbles back a step, blinking, but before he can trip over his own feet, because that’s exactly who he is--the man reaches out with those long, lithe arms, and catches him by the wrist with sticky, warm fingers. Quentin blinks up at him blankly.

“Thank you,” He says, somewhat awed.

The man just smirks down at him. “You’re a mess.”

Quentin huffs a laugh out through his nose and nods, shaking his hair from it’s precarious palce tucked behind his ear. “You have no idea,” He says, before kneeling down to pick up their cups. It takes a moment to register that he’s just gotten down on his knees in front of quite possibly the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen, but when he it does, he’s pretty sure they can see how red his cheeks are from space.

But the man leans down with napkins he’d probably nicked from the counter, and helps Quentin clean up their mess. He pauses mid sweep of expensive coffee, and looks through the curly bangs of his hair, to quirk the corner of his mouth up and say, “I’m Eliot.” Quentin looks up through his own hair; though he imagines he looks much more manic than dreamy like his counterpart. He blinks up at him, and Eliot shrugs a shoulder. “I thought we should introduce ourselves considering.”

“Considering?”

“We’re going to be taking each others clothes off.”

Quentin chokes on his own spit and sits up to stare at him, wide eyed.

The man--Eliot, god even the name is pretty--tilts his head, and appears to be holding back a laugh. A little chuckle bubbles out when he says, “Dry cleaning. I’ll clean yours, you clean mine.” He sits up on his haunches, resting his hands on his thighs, to examine him. “And if we’re doing that, we may as well just exchange numbers. You know. In case the dry cleaning doesn’t get the coffee out.” He shrugs his shoulder, “Or, in case it does. We could always get coffee--and not spill it all over each other.”

Quentin blanches.

Is the hottest guy in the world, in all worlds probably, flirting with him?

“Are you--”

“Asking you out?” Eliot quirks an eyebrow, “I am. It’d be easier if I knew your name. I doubt I can keep calling you a sexy tornado, like i am in my head.”

“Sexy . . . tornado?”

“You’re a mess. But you’re--”

“Ah.” Quentin clears his throat and nods. “I’m uh, I’m Quentin. Coldwater.”

“A last name? We’re really going places here,” Eliot teases, before leaning forward to swipe up the last of the coffee and stand up. “Like, back to the counter.” He holds his hand out for him, “I need my daily coffee. From the look of it, so do you?”

Quentin swallows thickly and reaches up to take his hand.

He’s pretty sure he imagines the electric shock that stretches between their skin when they touch, but Eliot looks like he’s felt it too. But he doesn’t have a lot of time to think on it, because Eliot pulls him to his feet, and leads him to the counter, barely taking the time to toss their garbage in the trash on the way.

*

Two months later, a short, brunette woman approaches their usual table at the coffee shop, pulls a chair up and sits down with them.

Eliot blinks at her, then looks at Quentin with a matching look of confusion. He must realize that Quentin has no idea who this woman is, because he turns back to her, and says, “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” She says, reaching across the table and grabbing a packet of sugar.

“No,” Eliot says, much slower this time, “We’re sitting here.”

She rolls her eyes, “And now I’m sitting with you.” Neither of them respond so she sighs, squaring her shoulders. “Look here, you fucks; I gave up magic to be here with you, because somehow a life of magic isn’t the same without my two favorite idiots. So, be nice or you get all your bad memories back.” She sneers, though it seems mostly to herself. “If I can convince someone else to cast the spell since I made them erase all knowledge of spells I knew from my mind, like a fucking idiot.”

Eliot looks across the table at Quentin, quirking an eyebrow. He shrugs a shoulder, and Quentin already know to take that as him embracing the insanity.

Which is one of those Eliot traits Quentin’s not sure is one of his best. But without it, he doubts he’d be sitting at this table with him. So he opts to ride the crazy train, too.

“All right,” Eliot says, smiling politely at the woman. “You realize you sound like a lunatic right?”

Which is not . . . where Quentin expected him to take this.

The woman, to her credit, merely grins. Then, ridiculously, she reaches up and pats Eliot’s cheek fondly, like she’s known him all her life, and goes back to pouring sugar in her coffee. “El,” She says, without looking up at him, “You may have given up on magic and all the danger that comes with it, including your memories, but if you try to sit there and pretend you don’t feel like you know me, I might actually risk the internal fire just to try and force a spell back to the surface,” She glances up at him through her eyelashes, “So I can turn you into a fucking frog.” Her eyes dart over to Quentin. “Then we’ll see if True Loves kiss is all it’s cracked out to be.”

Quentin blinks. “Wait--whoa--we, uh, we just--” He breaks off, looking at Eliot, expecting him to join him in telling her that they’ve only been dating for two months, but he’s watching the woman like she’s the most interesting thing in the room.

Which, fair.

But then the corners of his mouth turn upwards. “I don’t know you,” He says, leaning back in his chair, “But I like you.”

She breathes deep through her nose, shaking her head. “I knew i shouldve just come with you two idiots.” She looks over her coffee at Quentin again. “Q, come on. You’ve got to--”

“How do you know our names?”

“Because I’m the one who wiped your minds and helped you set up new lives, nitwit.”

“Hey, don’t talk to him like--”

“Seriously. Neither of you have even the slightest feeling of knowing who I am?” They shake their heads. “Margo. I literally--”

That catches Quentin off guard, and he snaps his neck towards her from where he’d been turning to look at Eliot incredulously. “Margo?” He interrupts, “The letter? That Margo?”

She tilts her head, for once seeming to be the confused one. “Letter?”

Eliot seems just as confused, turning to look at him. “You got a letter from a Margo, too?”

“Not from,” Quentin replies without looking away from her, “About.”

Margo falls back in her chair. “Well now I’m confused,” She says, clapping her hands together and then dropping them in her lap. It triggers a bit of deja vu from something--something Quentin can’t quite catch. “I didn’t write any letters.”

“My friend--my old friend, I guess. Julia,” he furrows his brow with a shake of his head, “She said I can’t forget Margo, because ‘she can only be stubborn for so long’ or something. I had no idea what it meant.”

“I’ll be,” Margo mutters, shaking her head. “Cheeky bitch.”

“Uhm, what?”

“Nothing,” She waves a hand and leans in, nodding at Eliot. “What’d your letter say?”

“Pretty much the same thing, but it said it came from a Margo. Just, ‘I won’t always be a stubborn bitch, don’t worry El. You’ll get your Bambi back soon. Love, Margo.’”

She smirks. “Hm,” Then she leans back again, shaking her head with a knowing smile on her lip. “I shouldve known she wouldn’t let me remember.”

“What are you talking about?”

She waves her hand nonchantalantly as she reaches for her coffee. “I’m not sure when, but I’m pretty sure we’re going to forget this whole conversation. And then we’re going to go on and live the lives our friends think we deserve.”

“Which is?”

She swallows, shrugging her shoulder, and staring into her coffee cup. “Happy, I guess.” She finally looks up at them after a few beats. “And annoyingly, they were right when they said I couldn’t do that without you two idiots. So, here I am. Giving up my throne so Fen--of all people--can rule Fillory, and so I can live a boring, meager little life as a normal person.” She looks just as surprised and confused as Quentin feels. “All because you two wanted a chance to grow old together again.” She mimes gagging, but there’s a little smile curling the corner of her mouth.

Eliot inhales slowly, before reaching for his own coffee and bringing it to his lips. “Fuck it,” He says, looking over the lid at Quentin. “I like her. Let’s play along.”

Quentin shrugs too. Why not?

Even if she does kind of scare him.

**

A year later three more people join them at their coffee table, and two more a few weeks after that. They never remember the conversations long after they leave the table. But they never leave any of them behind.

And before long, none of them remember a life before coffees on Tuesday, and vodka on Friday’s. There are no monsters or nightmares or deaths. Unless the looks Penny shoots Quentin on occassion eventually kill him.

But, they’re happy. And they don’t even know that there was a time where they weren’t.

Jane smiles from her place in her time bubble, smiling to herself.

They had to suffer, but it never had to permanent.

#the magicians #queliot #queliot and co #oops everyone ahs to be happy together woooooops #12 of 50