#quote from my friend: 'his eye bags are an entire other character'

[kind-of-a-shitty-wizard]

Inspector Palmu's Mistake | 1960

#hi sorry minor obsession incoming. oops #this movie was really good that is all #listen. i just love how he spends the whole movie getting pushed around he can NOT catch a break #this scene would not get out of my head bc why does he suddenly show a little bit of sass. sir you are being questioned for murder #quote from my friend: 'his eye bags are an entire other character' #inspector palmu's mistake

[yellowharrington]

-- (500) days of eddie

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used)

warnings: angst. cursing. drinking and drug use, implied consent while under the influence.

word count: 5.3k+

a/n: veryyyy loosely based on the movie (500) days of summer. mostly just the concept of being friends and having a ton of close calls, but getting the wrong idea. also this is not canonically accurate at all LMAO. tysm to my love @wtfsteveharrington for letting me send her sneak peaks at all hours <3

summary: you and eddie are "just friends", but he wants more.

(1)

The day you joined Hellfire Club was the first day in the entire club’s history that a girl had shown interest in D&D. Eddie was ecstatic, to say the least, but maintained composure while you stood by the end of the lunch table in your pleated black skirt and tank top. 

“Membership comes with protection,” he began, hands splayed out to reveal 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 rings adorning his fingers, as he pulled himself up out of his seat. “In return, you will not miss a night. Should there be an ‘emergency’,” - he added air quotes - “you must provide a substitute in your absence. Upon entry into the club, the dress code on campaign nights include one of these bad boys,” he rolled the cotton fabric of his own black and white tee between his fingers. “Which you will be provided.”

You stood awkwardly, watching the ogling eyes of the other boys as they looked you up and down. You felt uncomfortable suddenly, pulling the hem of your skirt down. “How does that sound?” His voice was sweet, as he extended a hand to you. “You in?”

“Are they gonna stop fuckin’ staring at me like that?” You made a gesture to the rest of the members, who immediately averted their eyes. A smile played on your lips, as Eddie blushed red with embarrassment. “They’re not used to seeing a woman that’s not in a porno mag. I apologize on their behalf.” Eddie had always been nice to you, mostly because you’d let him cheat off of your tests in middle school, for no reason other than being kind of a troublemaker at heart. 

“I’m in,” your hand slapped against his, shaking it once, meeting his excited brown eyes. “First meeting’s on Friday. I’ll bring you a shirt tomorrow, meet us here at lunch.”

You let your eyes rake over his form, pulling your glossy pink bottom lip between your teeth. “Can’t wait.”

(5)

After your first successful campaign with Hellfire, the rain began to pour down just as you were gearing up to leave. Most of the other members filed out of the school’s theatre space, bidding Eddie goodbye and making their way towards the last running busses of the night. Most of the kids were going home to family dinners or nights of homework, but you nor Eddie had anything planned, so you elected to stay behind with him and help clean up the remainder of the game. 

“Good first time?” He asked, his signature smirk once again playing on his lips. “You’re pretty good.” 

You reached up on your tip-toes to pull down some of the candles. “I loved it,” you remarked, looking back at Eddie’s form. “The campaign you came up with was great. And when Dustin rolled that 13?” His long hair began to shake as he nodded his head. 

“Fuckin’ priceless.” You put the candles into the cardboard box where you kept the other club merchandise, meeting eyes with Eddie once again. “You don’t have to, uh… stick around.” He gestured vaguely to the area around him. “I got this.”

“Nowhere I gotta be,” you remarked. “And it’s shitty outside.” Eddie agreed, putting the rest of the character pieces in a small plastic bag before throwing them in the box and stashing it away under a bench. “Can’t argue with that.”

“You want a ride home?” You jingled your keys on your pointer finger. “It’s the least I can do.”

Eddie grabbed his leather jacket from the back of his chair, while you threw your own over your shoulders. “That… would be nice. Yeah.”

Your car wasn’t nice, by any stretch, but it got you from point A to point B. Not only that, but you’d put in an aftermarket stereo system that made all of your cassette tapes sound really fucking good.

“Tapes are in the console,” your car roared to life, as you immediately turned on the windshield wipers. Eddie opened it gingerly, fingering through the selection. You began reversing, turning onto the Main Street. “Metallica?” He asked, holding up one of the tapes quizzically. “Put it in.”

“Little surprising,” he remarked, before sliding the tape into your car’s player. “Didn’t take you as a Metallica fan. Considering you’re still wearing a skirt and knee socks in the fucking rain,” his tone was lighthearted and gentle, much different to his outward appearance. “I am not as I seem,” you said slyly, turning up the radio to an inconceivable volume. He began banging his head to the beat in the seat beside you, revealing his devilish smile once again. You took a hard right down the dirt road ahead, letting the music overtake you both.

(72)

Tendrils of smoke floated into the night air as you and Eddie sat by your basement window. You coughed a few times, looking for some reprieve from Eddie as you handed the joint to him. “S’nice,” You offered in a choked voice. 

“If you’re not chokin’, you’re not smokin’!” He mused, laughing as he took a long drag from his own lips. He was an expert at this, judging by the way he perfectly inhaled the smoke and blew it out smoothly. He waved away some of the extra, trying to mitigate the smell as much as possible. “You’re sure your parents don’t care if we smoke in the house? Can’t have ‘em hate me,” he remarked. You recovered from your small coughing fit and flopped down on the couch. “Outta town.” He seemed happy enough with that answer, taking one more small puff before flipping the rest of the joint out of the window. 

“Now what?” He asked, jumping on your old couch amusedly. “Pillow fight? Tell each other secrets?” 

You rolled your eyes, pushing on his shoulder lightly. “We could watch a movie,” you gestured to the TV that was perched on a small stand across from the couch. “I forced Harrington to rent me Day of the Dead.”

It’s not that your couch was too small, but Eddie had a large and gangly frame that took up most of it. Especially when he was being an asshole, and stretching himself out to his heart’s content. “Sounds good.” His eyes watched your body as you popped the movie in, lifting up his legs and socked feet to position yourself under him. “Fucking move,” you laughed, dropping his legs back on your lap. “Christ. You’re so… long.”

“Fuck off,” his high was beginning to hit him now, making his voice sound raspy. “The fuck you mean long? What does that mean?” The giggles began to wrack through you, your high also beginning to hit you like a freight train. “You’re just… big. Tall.” You made vague gestures with your hands. “Well, thanks, I guess.” He looked bewildered, but also rather enamoured with you. Glossy brown eyes met yours as you let your laugh phase out, offering a small smile and a redirection to the TV.

About halfway through the movie you let your body relax into the couch more, nodding off. Eddie wasn’t too far behind you, but noticed your sleeping form when he turned to made another stupid remark about the movie. “Oh, shit,” he said quietly, looking around the darkness of your unfamiliar basement. He switched the TV off, letting his feet pad on the carpet below him.

Your soft snores filled the basement, as he slowly slid his hands under your knees and upper back. “Up we go,” he said quietly, more to himself, than to anyone else.

He slowly picked your body up, walking at a snail’s pace up the stairs, making extra sure not to hit your feet (or head, more importantly) on the walls. 

By the time he’d made it up to your bedroom, he was embarrassingly a little out of breath. He laid you gently atop your sheets, gingerly removing his hands and lightly pulling a blanket over your body. He thinks that, by some miracle, he’s avoided waking you up despite the two flights of very narrow stairwells in your home. He grabbed his jean jacket off the chair in your bedroom, throwing it over his shoulders before turning to leave.

“Eddie?”

Your voice was soft, sleepy, and slightly strained from the bit of smoking you’d done earlier.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Stay,” you patted the area next to you, pulling the blankets back. “S’fine. Too late to go home.”

Eddie was frozen in time, watching as you slid under the covers yourself and fell back into deep snores just as quickly as you’d awoken. He pulled his jacket off again, ruffling his hair lightly and pushing up his sleeves. “Uh, okay,” he said quietly. “It’s fine, that’s fine.” 

Your bed was fitted with soft, warm sheets and perfectly fluffed pillows. He attempted not to make any contact with your body, not really knowing the etiquette of sharing a bed with you. This was a first.

Just then, you rolled over, slinging an arm against the smallest part of his waist. You pulled yourself into his back, letting his hair tickle your nose a little, breathing in his scent of laundry shampoo. 

“Night,” you said quietly. He softened immediately, letting his eyes droop closed. “Night.”

(191)

“What are we here for again?”

Eddie was pushing the shopping cart with his forearms down the aisle, watching as you inspected the furniture. “I want a new desk,” you sighed again. “You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to.”

“You know I have nothing better to do,” he laughed, picking up a plant pot and inspecting it like a child. “What’s this for?”

“Did you read the sign?” You pointed incredulously to the sign right above his head, reading, very simply, ‘small plant pot’. 

“I never actually passed English, remember?” You laughed, a little too loud. “That doesn’t mean you can’t read, Munson,” your voice was incredulous. “Jesus. I worry about you sometimes.”

“We should test the beds.” He pointed to the freshly made display beds in the store, all with decorative pillows and thick comforters. You wiggled your eyebrows at him, making kiss faces as he realized what he implied. “Not like that, fuckin’ sicko.” He pushed the cart into an empty part of the store. 

“If you wanna fuck me, just say that,” you laughed, with a small brush to his arm and a skip away to the first bed. “Maybe this one?”

He let his body flop down on it, soft sheets engulfing his frame. His hair came to the front of his face as he made spitting noises to get it out of his mouth. “This one’s eating me. I don’t like it.”

You propped yourself up on your elbow, looking down at him. You pushed the dark hair out of his face to reveal his warm smile, as well as his deep brown eyes looking right into yours. You watched him swallow as his eyes searched your face, an endeared smirk playing on the edge of your lip. 

Eddie was at a loss of breath, looking into your eyes and taking in your features. Hair falling in front of your face, thick lashes with coats of mascara making them look long. Your signature pink lipgloss made your lips look impossibly juicy, and kissable. 

“Feeling… suffocated?” You giggled, before jumping off and moving to the next bed. You continued to jump on beds with him until an employee finally starting giving you death glares, to which you responded by taking your cart and running through the remainder of the store with it. 

“Hey! No running! Idiots,” you heard a nasally voice of an employee in the background yelling, but you were too busy chasing Eddie with a shopping cart to give a shit.

(248)

When Steve’s parents went out of town, you knew you had to beg him to host the party of the century. 

“It’s Eddie’s birthday and Halloween!” You pleaded over the counter of the Family Video. “You can invite Robin or Chrissy or Nancy or whoever,” your eyes shone in the light as you fisted the edges of his vest. “Please. I’ll get the booze, I don’t care. Just bring everyone.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Fine. But you owe me, big time.” You began to jump up and down. “Halloween night. My place. Make sure Eddie doesn’t know a thing.”

(262)

You had just finished up the blood-red punch and set out a huge array of snacks, including all of Eddie’s favourites. “Is he on his way?” Steve asked, with a kitchen towel over his shoulder. He was wearing his old Scoops Ahoy uniform, with the buttons left open and fake blood pouring down his chest and from the corners of his mouth. “Should be about five minutes, Dustin said they’d be here at 9:00 sharp.”

You smoothed out the long black dress that hugged your body perfectly, and puffed your black wig in the mirror. The house was bustling with people, all of Eddie’s best friends, excited to spend the evening celebrating the joint celebration. “Shhh! Sh!” You noticed Eddie’s van start to pull into Steve’s driveway, bumping with loud music playing inside. Dustin jumped out first, in a perfectly accurate Ghostbuster’s costume. Eddie followed behind him, in a pair of small circular sunglasses and a long black coat. His usual rings, plus a few new ones, were slid along his long fingers. You’d basically never seen him in anything other than his Hellfire Club tee, and you had to admit, he looked pretty great in all black.

Everyone ducked behind the couch and chairs, lights flickering off just in time. The house was eerily quiet, as Dustin opened the door for Eddie.

“Why the fuck-,” Eddie was caught off guard by the lights suddenly turning on, music beginning to play seemingly from nowhere, and all of his friends jumping out from behind the couches.

His eyes locked on you first, as you ran towards him and wrapped your arms around his neck for a hug. “Surprise!”

Eddie looked sufficiently surprised, to say the least. His friends erupted into claps and cheers as they descended into “party mode”, dancing along to the loud music and beginning to snack on the huge array of food. 

“Dustin, you shit,” he punched him lightly on the arm. “You fuckin’ tricked me. I didn’t know this was a Halloween slash Birthday party,” he looked excited, and a little bit moved by the sheer amount of love and support from his friends. “Thanks,” he said to you earnestly, pulling you into a warm hug. His big hand splayed across the small of your back, as you ruffled his hair lightly. “Love the costume, too,” he spun you around. “Morticia Addams was my sexual awakening.” You erupted into laughter, leading him to the punch table. “That explains a lot. Let’s go, Ozzy.”

As the night went on, people got progressively drunker. Eddie and Mike were arguing about D&D rules on the couch, while you and some of the other club members were chugging punch in Steve’s kitchen.

Speaking of Steve, you hadn’t seen him in a while. You’d imagined the possibility of getting into a steamy make-out session with him tonight, given his general nature to start giving out random compliments and flirtatious gestures when he was wasted. It wasn’t that you were actively crushing on Steve, but he had certainly caught your eye, especially since you’d gotten closer with the entire friend group of his over the past few months. 

Eddie noticed you were looking around, and he was hoping it was for him. After all of this you’d done for him, there was no way that you weren’t crushing on him a little bit. Right?

Right?

He hadn’t had a lot of experience with girls in the past, especially actually getting anywhere with them, but over the last months hanging out and getting to know you, he was almost sure that you were interested in him too. Late nights in your bedroom, spending time smoking outside after Hellfire, countless afternoons skipping class… he was so sure.

When Steve emerged from the hallway, and you grabbed onto the hem of his open shirt, pulling him back into the dimly lit kitchen, his heart fell deep into the pit of his stomach.

The sound of the music tuned out of his ears as he watched what little he could see in the reflection of the window. He watched as Steve backed you against a wall, your body curved into his, displaying the top of your breasts and soft neck. Eddie couldn’t help but stare.

He felt sick. Annoyed, bothered, upset, all at once. Being crossfaded wasn’t helping with his emotional regulation either, his hands balling up into fists as he watched Steve kiss your lips fervently. It was in secret, no one was supposed to see, but he did. And he wasn’t having fun anymore.

He grabbed a small joint from his coat pocket and made his way to Steve’s bathroom. He closed the door and opened the small window, taking in the smell of air freshener and soap. Steve’s bathroom was his only reprieve from this stupid party anyway, as he flicked his lighter on and let the smoke blow out the window.

It’s not that Eddie was like, crazy in love with you, or whatever. But he had, unfortunately, happened to develop a crush that was sort of taking over his life. 

When he’d finally contained himself and come out of the bathroom, you were in the dark hallway just about to go in. “Hey!” You said excitedly, pulling him by the collar of his coat into a darker area. 

“Having fun?” You asked, slurred and sloppy, a little bit of Steve’s fake blood on the corner of your lip. “I know you’re not big on parties. I’m hoping this was the exception.”

His face softened as his eyes wandered over your face, moving from the red pout of your lips to your chest. That black dress really did fit you absolutely perfectly. 

When he looked back up, your face was very close to his. He could barely register what was happening before you pressed your lips to his, soft, and gentle.

He savoured the taste of punch on your lips, as you let a finger curl around the long chains around his neck. He wanted more, needed more, but couldn’t bring himself to touch you. 

When you pulled away, you wiped some of the red lipstick off his chin. “Sorry,” you laughed, drunkenly. “I get excited when I drink.”

“S’fine,” he also slurred, still feeling dizzy. 

“Can we forget that happened?” You asked, letting your hand rest atop his chest. His heart was beating impossibly fast. 

“Sure,” he said quietly. “Forgotten.”

(370)

“Hold still,” you uttered softly. “It hurts more when you move.”

“Fucking christ,” he seethed, holding his arm out to you. “Hurts so fuckin’ bad.”

“I told you motorcycles were dangerous. Yet, here we are,” you dotted a white washcloth onto his bruised and bloody arm. His face had a large gash, a few rocks embedded in the tortured skin. He’d also ripped a sizeable hole in his jeans.

You motioned for him to get up off the side of his bath tub. “Let’s get you rinsed off.” His eyes widened, as you reached over and turned on the shower. 

He put the rag on the side of the sink, letting it drip. It was now stained crimson red. He motioned for you to leave the room, but was met with the vision of you pulling your t-shirt off to reveal a black bra. He felt his pace quicken, memorizing the way your skin looked.

“Uh, what are you…” he started, not being able to avert his gaze. “Get in, loser,” you took off your pants and threw them to the side. His face looked confused, and you took notice. “We’re friends, Eddie. You’ve seen me in worse, I’m sure.”

He began to take off his t-shirt, pushing off his jeans and wincing at the pain of the fabric going over his wound. He was confused, but wasn’t going to pass off the opportunity to take a shower with you. He stripped to his boxers, stepping into the hot water.

The steam rose around you like a halo, your hair wet, plastered to the sides of your face. Your bra and underwear were now soaking, and he felt himself get dizzy with lust.

“Here,” you switched places with him, placing him under the hot water. He winced once again, the shower hitting his wounds and making them feel unbelievably tender. 

You took your hand and placed it on his face, pushing the wet hair out of the way. He turned his face slightly, revealing his jaw and and neck, littered with small freckles and sun spots. The water was pouring down in droplets, as he sucked air through his teeth.

“It hurts, like a lot,” he said quietly. “I know,” you answered, putting your hand up against the wound, making sure to clean it as best as you could. “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.” 

Your hands grazed over his skin, washing away the dried blood and bits of debris. He was watching you intently, eyes following your every movement. “Feel better?” You asked over the sound of the shower slacking against the walls. Eddie had zoned out, watching as you leant down and began to clean out the gash by his knee. 

“Yeah, uh,” he cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Much better.”

“Turn,” you instructed, getting the back of the wound. Water rolled down his shoulders and back, glistening and warm, helping him relax. His shoulders were broad, and gave heaviness to his frame. 

“I think I’m done,” you stood back up to your full height. His wet hair stuck to the sides of his face and you couldn’t help but giggle. “You look like a sad puppy, you poor thing,” he frowned, only for it to be replaced with a bashful smile. “Fuck off, get me outta here.”

(490)

The one bar in Hawkins, where much of the town usually gathered on Friday nights, was unusually quiet as you and Eddie sat in your two favourite spots. An order of fries, and two beers, sat between you and him, as he leaned back in the hightop chair.

“They’re playing in Indianapolis on the 27th. We can drive there in the morning, make the concert, and get home before sunrise. You won’t have to miss a day!” Eddie was so excited about the prospect of a road trip that he was almost yelling, so you quieted him down with a gentle wave of your hand. “I know, in theory, we could,” you started. “But do you really wanna drive all night just to go to work at 9am, on zero sleep?”

Eddie took a crispy hot fry from the basket and bit the end. It immediately burned his tongue, and he winced.

“I don’t give a fuck if I’m tired, I need to see them,” he leaned back, paying attention to the TV above the bar. 

You turned your attention to your drink, before someone slid into the seat next to you. 

“Hey,” an older male voice was heard, and you turned to look at whoever it was that was attempting to speak to you. 

“Don’t see a lotta women drinking beer in this town,” he began. A silver haired man, much older than you, with a plaid shirt and a stench of cigarettes. 

“There’s at least three in this bar right now,” you laughed, taking time to look around the bar in an exaggerated display of annoyance.

Eddie looked over at you, ready to say something, when he noticed that you were talking to this random guy. The hair on the back of his neck immediately stood up.

“Can I get you another one?” the older man motioned to your half empty pint class. 

“Not interested, thanks,” you replied simply, turning your back to curve closer to Eddie. You could tell he was on the defensive. 

The man sitting next to you snorted, pushing back the chair he was sitting in, making a noise that made the bar patrons stare. “Okay, bitch,” he muttered. “Just trying to be nice.”

Eddie immediately stood up, walking right up to the guy with raised brows. “What the fuck did you just say?”

The bartender turned around to watch the scene unfold, as your harasser began to laugh. “I said she’s bein’ a bitch,” he spat, and that was enough for Eddie to cock his fist and punch him, the man easily falling to the ground. 

Your hands flew over your mouth in shock, as Eddie shook out his hand. The man stayed on the ground, bewildered and confused. You could see blood begin to coat Eddie’s knuckles.

“Out!” The bartender pointed to the large wooden double doors.

You grabbed your purse from the back of your chair, pulling Eddie by the arm into the desolate parking lot, the sky painted a dark blue above.

When you made it out to your car and unlocked the door, Eddie stood in place. “Fuck that guy, right?” He sounded incredulous, but seemed immediately confused that you weren’t reciprocating.

“Yeah. Fuck that guy. But fuck you too, man,” you opened the car door to throw your purse in the front seat. “What was that all about? I had it under control.”

He shook his head, becoming more and more confused. “I totally saved your ass back there,” he started, stepping towards you. “That dude was being an asshole.”

“Yeah, and I was dealing with it,” you spat. “I don’t need you to do shit like that for me. I can fight my own battles, thank you very much.”

Eddie’s look softened. He was hurt by your tone. “I never said you couldn’t. You’re badass. I just…” he trailed off. 

“You just what, Eddie? Saw someone hitting on me, and just had to step in? Had to be my saviour like you fucking own me? We’re friends Eddie. Just friends.”

His face began to blush with embarrassment, knowing the word vomit that was about to come out. But he was upset, and he couldn’t help it. Over a year of pent up emotion, sexual tension, and pining. And it was call coming out. Right now.

“Friends?” He asked, stepping towards you again. “Just fucking friends? I wanna know which of your other friends you share a bed with, huh?” His voice was taunting. “I wanna know which friends you kiss when you’re slurring your words and too drunk to stand.” Hot tears brimmed his eyes, and you could see his anger bubbling inside of him.

“I asked you to forget about that.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t! I didn’t forget. I also didn’t forget about mattress shopping and smoke sessions after Hellfire.” He took a heaving breath. “Movie nights and birthday parties and Halloween… and I certainly didn’t forget about that little shower stunt, you think I can’t clean a fuckin’ cut by myself?” He ran his hand over his face. “We’re not just fucking friends. We’re so, so much more than that.”

You were speechless, letting the soft wind blow your hair into the night sky. Eddie stood there, in front of you, his shoulders slumped. He’d obviously exhausted most of his energy with his monologue. 

“I just don’t think about it like that, Eddie. I never thought about us like that. I’m sorry.” Your face was stoic.

Eddie’s hand found his hair, as he stepped back onto the gravel parking lot. “Whatever. I did. So, do with that what you will.”

You let a few tears fall down your cheeks, feeling utterly embarrassed and awkward at Eddie’s confession. You opened the driver’s side door and slid into the seat. Eddie stood in front of the car, hopeless, with a look of bewilderment and sadness. He looked like a puppy that you’d abandoned at the shelter. 

Your car wheels made a soft crackle as you pulled out of the parking spot, starting back on your journey to your house. 

(491)

You picked up the phone and dialled Eddie’s number, waiting patiently for the call to connect. 

“Hello?”

“Dustin! Hey, hey, it’s (Y/N),” you bit your lip. “Is Eddie there?”

There was a silence on the other line.

“No, he’s not.”

“Are you lying?”

Another silence. 

“No.”

“Fine. If you are lying, tell him to call me back, okay?” 

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

(492)

You called Eddie’s number again, only to be met with the dial tone.

(500)

After a while of not speaking to Eddie, you decided just to show up to his trailer instead of waiting for him to answer your numerous phone calls. 

Your car pulled onto the soft grass, looking for any sign of his presence. The van was gone, but you hadn’t spoken to him in a while, and now was the time to finish this, once and for all. 

You walked up the small steps and knocked on his door, hearing only silence on the other side. You knocked again, harder this time, sighing, frustratedly. 

“Coming!”

As Eddie opened the door, he was pulling a loose white t-shirt over his torso. He wore black and white plaid pajamas, with red puffy cheeks and sleepy eyes. You stood, staring for a minute, waiting to be invited. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Silence. 

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

The tensions in the room were high as Eddie moved out of the way, letting you slide past him into the small living room. 

“Look, we don’t have to-,” he went to close the door. 

“Stop. We do. I’m sorry for freaking out on you.” He softened, his shoulders releasing the weight they’d been holding for days. 

“I shouldn’t have punched that guy. I got… defensive and upset.” He stepped towards you. “And my weird love confession, I didn’t mean to… put you on the spot like that. I was thinking it was more than it was.”

You sighed, fidgeting with your fingers. “It wasn’t weird. It was sweet. I just… hadn’t thought about it like that. From your perspective.”

Eddie waved his hands in the air, metaphorically clearing it. 

“We can just forget about it. I’ve been miserable the last week. Dustin gets on my nerves and he knows nothing about girls, so he was zero help.” 

You laughed, arms opening for a hug. Eddie stepped forward, dipping his head to land on your shoulder as you pulled him in close. You could smell his shampoo and cologne, along with his lilac laundry detergent. 

He squeezed you tightly, as your heels came up off the ground to meet his height. 

As you pulled away from him, your arms stayed slung around his shoulders. Your hands came to cup his face, his soft stubble under your fingers as your thumb slid across his jaw. His hands stayed locked at your sides. 

Your eyes searched his, not being able to deny the tension that remained. He looked down at you, wanting, needing you, as you smashed your lips into his.

His lips were softer than you’d expected, plush and pink. He tasted of toothpaste. 

You deepened the kiss, stumbling back onto his couch and letting his body flop onto yours. Your hands moved from his face down his sides, to the warm skin under his t-shirt. He dipped his tongue onto your lip, before you pushed yours against it. It was so much better than you’d imagined, and judging by the soft moans Eddie was making, he thought so too.

When he finally pulled away, he was breathing heavily, a dopey smile on his lips. 

“But we can just be friends, though?”

You rolled your eyes, hitting his chest before balling the collar of his t-shirt in your hand, pulling him closer. 

“Too soon. Shut up and kiss me again.”

#eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic

[figgiforever]

For the ask game:

nutmeg ⇢ how’s your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on?

palm tree ⇢ do you have a fictional villain you shouldn’t like but love regardless?

aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?

chamomile ⇢ what kind of things do you like receiving as gifts?

sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?

cactus ⇢ something you’re currently learning (about)?

nutmeg ⇢ how’s your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on?

Messy. I don't like to tidy up my room. There's no food or dirty dishes there but... there is just lots of stuff everywhere: on the floor, on the desk, in the drawers, on the top of the wardrobe. Sketchbooks, loose sheets of paper and other artistic materials, clothes, boxes, bags with stuff I bought while living in dormitory that I don't know where to put, canvases with my paintings from high school, a guitar, pile of folders with my old drawings, star wars merchandise, books... Just everything!

Besides, few years ago my parents decided to renovate our house and I wanted to have brownish olive walls in my room and bright green accessories. The paint we chose ended being sand yellow and I have exactly two green accesories: a small carpet and a window blind. I don't remember my first reaction but my mom says I was very mad. Though I like it now. But I don't even spend much time there and I've never been interested in arranging my space too much.

palm tree ⇢ do you have a fictional villain you shouldn’t like but love regardless?

Megatron from More Than Meets The Eye comic series. I guess he fits this question.

I'm not sure how much you know about Tranformers but there is not just ONE canon. Almost each series is a different continuity. And the same characters vary more or less in each of them. So I don't love all versions of Megatron but that specific one and his redemption arc. He's both hated and loved in the fandom. And I love him <3 He's my beloved warlord and war criminal :)

Aloe vera ⇢ what’s something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?

Sleeping with a cat on my bed.

chamomile ⇢ what kind of things do you like receiving as gifts?

Something hand-made, nothing expensive but made with heart. Like that notebook with photos, quotes and little drawings I got for 17th birthday from my best friend from that time. She titled it "Seventeen things I want to thank you for". We are not friends anymore but I like to come back and look at it again.

sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?

Films/videos. The combination of the beauty of the image and music can make my soul move to another dimension. It can make me feel strong emotions or as if I'm in a different world. My favourite mediums are music and images (paintings, drawings, graphic, photography, etc.) but when they are put together - it just hits me even stronger.

cactus ⇢ something you’re currently learning (about)?

I'm learning Italian with Duolingo for over a year now. In the meantime I lost motivation to do notes anymore but I have too high streak to give up entirely.

#thanks for the ask <3 #asks and answers

[jackmmbirrell71]

Favourite New Things

I’ve been trying to watch a movie a day and it’s not going to plan however I am trying to intake any kind of movie when I can- call it doing some research. 

I’ve just made a short list of films that I've watched recently that left an impact on me, whether that be for it’s plot, script, directing and just overall enjoyment. 

THE WHALE 

“I need to know that I have done one thing right with my life!” 

Give the man his Oscar. I’ve never experienced getting goosebumps because of someone’s performance however Brendan pulled everything out of the bag for his performance in The Whale. The emotions he conjures and the weight he puts on the heart-wrenching dialogue leaves you sat in the cinema forgetting about the world outside and only focusing on Brendan himself. The movie isn’t for the faint of heart as it breaks you down piece by piece over the course of the film and leaves you to decipher the beauty in life and people.  

BABYLON 

“A child born in fifty years will stumble upon your image flickering upon a screen and feel, he knows you- like a friend. When you’ve breathed your last before he breaths his first. You’ve been given a gift- be grateful. Your time today is through but you’ll spend eternity with angels and ghosts.” 

PERFECT. It’s the perfect film. nothing can top it. It’s beautiful, epic, euphoric, emotional and is precise in what it’s trying to say. The way and care of which this film is crafted with pulls it away from all the other ‘love letter to Hollywood’ films and stands as a masterpiece of modern cinema. The journey and characters that you experience this journey with are acted to perfection and each in the film is given their moment to shine. Damien really loves his cinema and It goes to show In that phenomenal, jaw dropping, spectacle last montage scene that has provided me with a new life and passion for pursuing a life in film. 

AFTERSUN 

“There’s this feeling, once you leave where you grew up, that you don’t totally belong there again.”

I felt this entire film on a personal level and I'd like to sit down with Charlotte and shout at her for creating something so personal. I didn't think I'd like the film but it ended up being a film experience that left me in silence sobbing as I listen to queen and Bowie. The character dynamic was so lovable and caring that you just had to get invested in the story which only made it all the more guts wrenching when these characters are seen struggling. 

FRANCES HA 

“It's that thing when you're with someone, and you love them and they know it, and they love you and you know it... but it's a party... and you're both talking to other people, and you're laughing and shining... and you look across the room and catch each other's eyes... but - but not because you're possessive, or it's precisely sexual... but because... that is your person in this life. And it's funny and sad, but only because this life will end, and it's this secret world that exists right there in public, unnoticed, that no one else knows about. It's sort of like how they say that other dimensions exist all around us, but we don't have the ability to perceive them. That's - That's what I want out of a relationship. Or just life, I guess.”

Need I say more? The quote just goes to show how incredible this film is. The emotion in the words and Greta’s stellar performance left me feeling warm and butterflies in my stomach. The whole thing just felt hopeful and by the end I felt some-what at ease with the coming of my 20s. 

[cockslutpadalecki]

When Daddy’s Not Around

Summary: A cockroach infestation in Y/N’s apartment block forces her and her parents to stay with her dad’s best friend— the wealthy bachelor James Barnes. And when her parents are out of town for the weekend, the sexual tension that has been brewing between the pair finally boils over. 

Characters: DadsBestFriend!Bucky x F!Reader.

Words: 5916.

Warnings: age gap relationship (reader is 18), heavy sexual tension, explicit sexual content, Bucky being a little tease, Bucky being a slut, Bucky in just a towel, female masturbation, finger sucking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), multiple orgasms, definite size kink, cream pie, 18+.

A/N: Written for @sweeterthanthis​ “Quote Me On It” challenge, my prompt was “I thought about what you would look like having an orgasm” from Sex, Lies & Videotape. It is highlighted in bold, however it has been altered slightly. Bucky’s look is entirely inspired by this GIF, and if you’re after a visualisation of the sex position, feast your eyes on this. Beta: @there-must-be-a-lock​ but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. Lou, your detailed feedback and suggestions have literally altered my writing experience completely, thank you so much. I’d like to also thank my pre-reader @ozarkthedog​​ for your wonderful comments, and sending all of my gratitude to @imanuglywombat​, my beautiful wombat queen. Your support has been priceless throughout. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. My work is my own, therefore I do not give consent for this story to be re-posted or translated to any other site. Subscribe to Patreon and get access to fics, just like this one, two weeks before Tumblr for as little as $3.

You’re barely through the front door one dreary Monday evening when your dad accosts you in the tiny hallway, his hands full with two bulging duffel bags.

You shoot him a quizzical look as you drop your backpack to the floor. “What’s going on?”

“Pack as many clothes and essentials as you can,” he instructs. “We’ve gotta move out.”

“Move out?” you repeat incredulously. “Did we miss the last rent cheque or something?”

He tries hard to school his features, almost horrified that you would suggest such a thing, and as soon as the words leave your mouth you regret them. You’re about to apologise as the older man drops the bags to the floor, turning his attention to the bureau to the left of you.

“Entire apartment block has cockroaches. Whole building is getting fumigated,” he explains, eyes trained downward as he rummages inside the small wooden dresser.

You shiver at the thought of thousands of the parasites crawling over your body before questioning, “Where the hell are we gonna live?”

“Bucky says we can stay with him.”

Your stomach feels like lead at the words, even though it makes perfect sense. Nana and Pops live too far out of town, and you still need to be close enough to school without having to catch six buses just to make it in time for the first period.

Bucky. James. Dad’s oldest and closest friend.

His house may be in the opposite direction to your school district, but it’s still the more viable option. You’d only have to get one bus this way, even if it did mean getting up at the crack of dawn to make sure you’re on it. Plus he has more than enough space to accommodate the three of you without feeling like you’re living out of each other’s pockets.

And you can’t argue with logic, despite how much you want to.

So Bucky’s house it is.

-

The next week passes by in a blur of belongings shoved into whatever hold-all’s and suitcases you can find. Desperate to pack as many of your clothes as possible, it doesn’t matter that you haven’t worn half of the garments in what feels like years, you never know when the occasion would call for a cute little flowery two piece and clumpy brown wedges that you can barely walk in.

The bedroom James’ housekeeper Olga has allocated to you is almost the same size as your entire apartment, and that doesn’t include the walk-in closet that leads off to the left of the queen sized bed, which in itself is bigger than your whole room at home. You can’t understand why a man who lives alone needs such a vast living quarters, but as you unpack your possessions into a pathetically small portion of the closet, you are suddenly grateful that he does.

The first night after you settle in as much as you can, James promises to give the three of you the space you need, and to treat the place as if it were your own. Predictably, Dad objects, but James won’t hear of it.

“My home will always be your home,” quotes the playboy as Dad shoots his friend daggers, remembering the same words falling from his own mouth years before. “Every amenity is at your disposal, and my staff are always on hand if you need anything.”

“We can’t ask them to do that, Buck. They don’t work for us,” Dad argues.

James lives a lavish lifestyle, one he always downplays when he comes to visit. It isn’t that he’s ashamed of his wealth, but he knows your parents are modest and never live beyond their means. He has too much respect for them to shove it in their faces.

But you always remember the one and only time your father and his friend disagreed over their financial differences. James had offered to help out when bills began to mount up after your father’s car broke down at the side of the highway, and repairs were costly. Your parents were simply too proud to take his money, and it was never spoken of again.

“But they work for me, and they do what I ask of them, and if that means waiting on hand and foot for my guests then that’s what they’ll do,” James counters quickly.

“Buck—” Dad starts, but his best friend shuts him down with a look and a casual wave of the hand.

“I’m not gonna argue about this. My word’s final.”

After that brief conversation, nothing else is said about it, and you all go about your business as usual, only coming together in the evenings at dinner. James insists you keep your family traditions while residing in his home, and after much persuasion from Dad, he joins you for mealtimes when he isn't off doing… Well, whatever it is that he does.

You can barely eat when he’s there, too distracted by his flawless appearance, even when dressed in a simple white t-shirt and grey jogging pants. And you’re thankful that you have school to take your mind off of him, because even though the house is extensive beyond your wildest dreams, he always seems to be one step behind you at every turn.

Of course you’re flattered by the attention from the older man, but when he’s right under your nose all the time, it becomes virtually impossible to think of anything else but the way you wish he would fuck you six ways from Sunday.

-

Wednesday morning starts off like any other, except for the first time in a week, James is nowhere to be seen as you prepare breakfast for yourself. The peace and quiet is welcoming, the elusive owner of the house absent for once, and you can enjoy the cereal and orange juice you picked out from the selection Olga had left for you.

James has always been a part of your life. A constant that never waivered, no matter how busy he became. He was part of the family. An unofficial godfather-type turned your biggest crush.

You always knew it was inappropriate, and you did your best to avoid him whenever you could. You would start to make excuses to not visit him with your dad when he’d offer. You’d try to make yourself scarce when James would swing by your home, but in the tiny apartment you shared with your parents, it was practically impossible.

He always found you sulking in your room, managing to pry out some made up lie as to why you were in such a foul mood. He usually bought the standard drama that came with teenage girls, and not wanting to pry any further, or get sucked into the politics of high school, he’d leave you alone to whimper into your mattress as you wished the pillow you were rutting against was his painfully attractive face. He would still pop by at least once a week to see your parents, but after waiting in your room for his expected interruption, eventually even those ceased.

Over time, James began to tease you for your sullen attitude. Often, you feared he knew your secret, always holding your gaze for a little too long or smirking when he’d catch you staring. Clearly your discomfort brought him joy, and that only seemed to spur him on even more.

So the thought of having to live under the same roof as him for the foreseeable future terrified but excited you.

Mindlessly, you flip through a magazine Mom had picked up at the store as you eat, not really paying attention to the articles when the vibration of your phone receiving a text against the marble counter plucks you from your daze. The sudden noise causes you to knock over the bowl of coco puffs and milk into your lap.

“Shit, shit, shit!” you curse, trying desperately to pat at the wet patch on your skirt as you hurriedly rush upstairs, well aware of time running away from you. You need to get a move on if you’re going to be ready to catch the bus to school, and in your sopping wet outfit that’s becoming less and less likely.

Barrelling into your temporary room, you manage to pick out something new in a matter of minutes, pulling on the cutesy pinafore dress over your salvaged t-shirt as you rush to the bathroom, the sound of the shower running disrupting your efforts to make it to school on time.

Just perfect.

You knock quickly, hoping to rouse the attention of the person inside, but it fails to distract them from whistling a tune you vaguely recognise.

“Dad? Is that you?” You call out, finally placing the A Team theme song he always ends up humming, “Hurry up, I gotta go, I’m gonna miss the bus,” you add, yelling through the door, hoping that this time he’ll hear you.

Knocking again, you huff loudly in an attempt to convey your frustration, while hastily pulling on the pink knee high socks you picked out to complement your fresh change of clothes.

In the midst of bending over, and dragging the soft material up over your knee, the door finally unlocks and a billow of damp steam hits you in the face before it dissipates entirely. Tanned, muscular legs and a blanket of pure white appears through the cloud of water droplets, and it becomes apparent that your face is at the perfect crotch level.

James is naked, save for the towel that barely covers his modesty, the soft cotton hugging his lithe hips, showing off V lines that could cut fucking glass.

“And here’s me thinkin’ I’d need to work a little harder to get you in this position,” he purrs seductively as you return to standing, unable to tell if the blood rushing to your head is down to the sight in front of you or from rising up too fast.

His chest glistens like he’s smothered himself in baby oil. The moisture from the shower clings to every divot and ridge of his abs, and with his chocolate brown hair still dripping, rogue rivulets of water trickle down over his pecs and down onto his stomach, which only serves to make the image even more delectable.

While your thighs clench and your stomach twists in arousal, you’re rendered temporarily mute as you try to swallow despite the dryness in the back of your throat.

“Sorry,” James apologises, running a hand through his wet hair. “I didn’t realise I was in there for so long.”

“I, um.” You cough, clearing your throat before asking, “What’s wrong with yours?”

“I’m getting it re-modelled,” he tells you.

“Oh.” Your brow furrows a little at his explanation, but you don’t question it. “Why couldn’t you use one of the other six bathrooms in this place?”

“Five actually,” he chuckles lightly. “And I like this one best.”

“You have a favourite bathroom?”

“I wouldn’t say favourite, I just really enjoy the view from here the most.” James’ azure eyes glance over your shoulder, and you find yourself turning your head at the same time to see what he’s looking at.

The open doorway to your bedroom.

Realisation suddenly dawns on you, and the weird 'I feel like I’m being watched’ sensation you’ve been having suddenly makes sense. You should be horrified at his subtle admission, but instead, you feel your pussy clench tightly around nothing. Your entire body feels like a furnace as you glance back at him, his lips painted into a lazy, upturned smile.

“The - the view, huh?” comes your stuttered response as he steps from the doorway, narrowing the gap between you. And even though the entire hall is more than spacious to house both of you comfortably without being in each other’s personal spaces, he’s so close that you can feel the heat oozing from his body permeating yours and it makes your skin prickle in arousal.

“Mm hm,” James nods slowly.

You continue to look up at him, mouth slightly agape as your eyes flicker between his piercing blue stare to his lips— so beautifully pink and thick. Fuck, you just wanna kiss him so damn bad.

“It looks good enough to eat.” His eyes drop to your lips, his own pinched between his teeth. “Bet it’s sweet as a peach.”

A small noise escapes from your throat, knowing you’re completely and irrevocably not talking about the “view” any more. Your mind is whirring as you try to conjure up a response that isn’t just garbled, horny nonsense— something along the lines of wanting him to throw you against the wall and find out, but words fail you.

“Anyway,” James says, clearing his throat. The sound pulls you from your daydream. “Have a good day at school, kid,” he adds with a smirk before striding off down the hall, leaving a trail of damp footprints in his wake.

-

“We’re going away for the weekend,” Dad announces that evening at dinner.

Thank god, you internally sigh. After your encounter with James this morning, and spending the entire day wound up tighter than a bed spring, you need to put as much distance between him and you as possible. You can almost feel your face light up in glee, already babbling excitedly about getting away from these “drab four walls” when your mom intercedes gently.

“Oh no sweetie, it’s just me and your dad.” She flashes you a kind smile. “Bucky’s giving us his cabin.”

“What about me?”

“I doubt you’ll want to join us honey, it’s for our anniversary.” The couple share a loved up look, and the sickening realisation hits you.

“Oh,” you respond, “ew.”

The three adults chuckle lightly, seemingly amused by your distaste at your parents for going to spend their weekend doing it.

“So am I gonna stay at Nana and Pops?” you ask excitedly, eyes darting back and forth between them.

“Why would you when you can stay here and keep our host company,” Dad laughs.

You glance over at the man in question, and James raises his fork and eyebrow in unison, lips curled up into the same teasing grin it was this morning.

“I think he’s more than capable of finding his own company,” you mutter under your breath, but it’s still loud enough for them all to hear.

“Y/N, don’t be so rude,” Mom rebukes you softly, but James merely scoffs at your insult.

“It’s fine Ange, the kid’s right.” He smiles at you, tongue sweeping across his bottom lip as he does so. “But I’ll see to rein it in for the weekend.”

You hate that he still calls you that. And judging by the amused look tugging at his features, he knows you hate it too.

-

James’ attempts to “rein it in” are feeble. Your parents have only been gone a matter of hours, and he’s already preparing himself for another date, regardless of the fact he’s just returned from a “liquid lunch” two hours before.

You aren’t stupid. It’s obvious what he’s really been up to— the lingering smell of the woman’s sickly sweet perfume wafts under your nostrils as he strides past you sitting in the kitchen, hungrily nibbling at a plate of Olga’s freshly made chocolate chip cookies. You glance up through thick lashes, watching as he strides over the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of water.

“She’s got a soft spot for you,” he comments, your gaze immediately drawn to his deft fingers unscrewing the cap before chucking it onto the counter next to you.

“Who?”

“Olga,” he affirms with a light laugh as he brings the plastic to his lips and swallows deeply. “She’s worked for me for six years now, and not once has she ever made me cookies.” He indicates the slowly emptying plate in front of you with a small tilt of his head.

“Clearly she’s fallen for my charms,” you reply nonchalantly.

“She’s not the only one,” he mutters, thinking you don’t hear him. He takes another big gulp of water, and the way his Adam’s apple bobs makes the knot in your stomach tighten. Licking your lips unconsciously, you wish you could drag it up and over his throat instead.

As he finishes drinking, he wipes away a stray droplet of water from the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb, eyes locked onto yours. The action is enough to make your panties flood with arousal.

“You, er, missed a spot.” You tap a finger against your neck, signifying the spot where he needs to rub away the garish crimson lipstick print staining his flawless sun-kissed skin.

He smudges the mark with his fingers, smiling wide as he pulls them away, scarlet now tainting the tips.

You can’t mask your envy, even if you tried.

-

It’s a little after eight thirty when James finds you in the lounge. He’s clad in expensive black Armani when he strides in, his perfectly pressed jacket hanging over his arm. He does a double take when he spots you curled up on the couch, flicking through channels trying to find something decent to watch.

“‘Kay, what’s the deal?” He asks, placing the ebony garment down on the back of the couch before flashing you a teasing smile while he fiddles with his cufflinks.

Fuck. Why is watching him do that so hot?

As you clench your thighs together, you hope he doesn’t notice the way you shift awkwardly in an attempt to create enough friction to ease the ache between your legs.

“Hm?”

James picks up his suit jacket and puts it on, taking the time to smooth down the lapels and collar. “It’s Friday night, how come you don’t have plans?”

“Friend blew me off to hang out with her boyfriend,” you mutter, still a little put out by her cancelling on you at the last minute. You turn your attention back to the television, not wanting to let your gaze linger on just how fuckable he looks.

“And you didn’t feel like spending time with yours?”

“Don’t have one,” you say, stare flickering towards the older man momentarily. “The boys at school are jerks.”

“Boys your age barely know what to do with their dicks anyway.”

You hate to admit that he’s right. Despite the fact the last guy you got to fourth base with oozed charisma and pure sexual energy, it seemed that it was simply a well very put together act. The reality being, he had come within minutes of being inside you, while you laid there wondering if it was even in yet. The premature jizzstain then had the audacity to tell all of his friends that he took your virginity, and worse still, that you were a lousy lay.

To reiterate, boys equal jerks.

You take the time to look him up and down in scrutiny. “From what I hear, a lot of men don’t either.”

James lightly scoffs. “Oh, I’m not one of those men.”

“And I’m sure the woman who left her lipstick prints all over your neck would no doubt agree,” you reply sarcastically.

“What’s the matter kid, you jealous?” He laughs.

Your jaw tightens as you stare up at him, icy blue eyes daring you to say yes, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. Yet the fact you remain quiet tells James everything he needs to know, and his lips slowly curl up into a mirthful smile.

He gives you a knowing wink as he turns on his heels and confidently strides from the room with a spring to his gait, not before throwing, “Have a good night kid, don’t wait up,” over his shoulder.

Kid.

God, you wanna murder him.

-

It’s not until you hear the sound of the engine of his Ferrari roaring to life from outside that your thoughts are pulled from your salacious fantasies— each one featuring James’ cock, and having it stuffed into any one of your available holes.

You distract yourself with mindless television for a while, until the chill of the A/C blasting across your bare skin is all you can think about. You know you should just go upstairs and put on warmer clothing, the small t-shirt and sleep shorts doing very little to stave off the cold, but the thought of traipsing up all of those stairs suddenly seems like a gargantuan effort. Unable to find a blanket anywhere, you settle for the grey sweater laying over the back of the couch, assuming it belongs to Olga, but it’s not until you pull it over your head that the faint smell of James’ aftershave engulfs your senses.

Of course it would be his.

You debate taking the item of clothing off, however almost as soon as the softness and warmth of the material strokes over your skin, you decide against it. His scent is distracting at first, but eventually it becomes a comfort and you find yourself snuggling into it as you climb back into the seat you had moulded within the leather couch.

Somehow three hours pass, and your stomach loudly gurgles as a pizza commercial starts up, reminding you that you haven’t had anything substantial to eat since the cookies Olga left. For a moment your heart leaps, hoping there are still some left before you remember that you had already eaten them all after catching the leftover lipstick marks on James’ perfect fucking neck.

You wonder where else she’s marked him with that slutty store-bought claret, and as you start to descend back into unwanted envy, you force yourself up from the couch in search of food.

You feel like an intruder in the house, rummaging through the cupboards for any kind of snacks you could nibble on while you pick out a movie to watch. And even though James gave you express permission to help yourself to anything, you still feel like you’re stealing when you manage to get your hands on a box of microwaveable popcorn.

-

As you watch the timer count down, the familiar sugary sweet smell fills the vast kitchen, and your stomach begins to cramp and growl, desperate for sustenance as you hear the front door slam shut.

Olga wasn’t due back until early morning, and James would surely be home even later than her, the heady stench of sex accompanying him. Holy shit, were you being broken into? Should you call the cops?

No, he had a state of the art security system surrounding the entire property. Nobody would be getting within two miles of this place without some kind of silent alarm triggering.

You freeze in place, internally arguing with yourself about whether to call out to the unknown person when James suddenly appears in the doorway, looking only a little dishevelled.

“Ah, so you’re the popcorn thief,” he jests, walking towards you.

“One bag hardly counts,” you retort flippantly.

“Yeah, yeah tell that to the cops.” He smirks, stepping up to the counter, and empties his pockets onto the marble. Cell, wallet, keys, condoms…

Well, you suppose you can’t blame him for always being prepared, but it doesn’t stop the jealousy from bubbling in your chest.

The microwave beeps and you quickly open it to allow the rising steam to escape, waiting a few seconds for it to dissipate before reaching inside for the bulging paper bag.

“So, what happened to your date?” you ask, aloof.

James scrunches up his nose, letting out a small laugh as he reaches over for a handful of popcorn that you’re in the middle of pouring into the bowl in front of you. Just the way his fingers curl around the puffed up kernels makes your skin prickle with heat, wishing they were flexing inside you. You discard the bag, thankful for the moment to look away.

“Paid for her Uber,” he shrugs. “Figured I had someone better waiting for me here.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh. “Who, Olga?”

James slowly rounds the counter, his cobalt eyes never leaving you as he comes to stand in front of you. He’s so close you can easily reach out and touch him, but your hands remain at your sides, waiting for him to react first.

“Baby girl, we both know I don’t wanna fuck my housekeeper.”

He steps forward, finally closing the small gap between you as the noise that escapes you at the new pet name is incoherent. James stares down at you, pupils widening as he sweeps his tongue over his bottom lip.

“That my sweater?” he asks softly. Your cheeks grow hot at his questioning.

“Yeah, sorry, I was cold,” you explain, giving each sleeve a tug as you begin to shimmy out of it, but James’ voice stops you.

“Don’t.” He licks his lips devilishly. “It looks good on you.” You squirm at his compliment, unsure of how to respond. “You’d look better in less though.”

His comment tethers you to the spot, and for a moment you’re both frozen, simply staring at each other.

Is he really saying what you think he’s saying?

It’s almost as if all other sound has been sucked from the room, apart from the steady thump of blood pounding in your ears.

His eyes dart back and forth between yours, like he’s trying to figure out what you’re thinking.

You break the silence first with a shaky, “I should—” as you point towards the lounge, yet you make no attempt to move. James nods like he’s giving you permission to do so, but as you begin to take a step back, he suddenly reaches for the sweater, grabbing the grey material with a tight fist.

In a flash, he’s pulling you towards him and his lips are crashing heavily over yours.

He tastes like expensive champagne and whiskey with hints of sweetness from the popcorn cutting through the bitterness, tongue deliciously wet and hot as it explores yours while low growls emit from his chest. The deep, gravelly vibrations make your lips tingle as they move down your body, settling thickly in your core.

As you relax into the kiss, James’ grip around the sweater loosens, and his hands find their way to the backs of your thighs, giving your bare flesh a small tap. You almost jump into his arms, wrapping your legs tight around his waist.

You can barely breathe through the force of his kisses, each one more desperate and fervid than the last.  His fingers press hard into your skin as he maneuvers you away from the kitchen, the popcorn long forgotten. Your hands are in his hair, tugging softly on the roots as he carries you to the couch, getting off on the sound of James moaning into your mouth.

You’re already pawing at his tie and the buttons on his shirt, stripping the black fabric from his chest when he places you down on the couch. As soon as your ass meets the leather, James is already knelt between your spread thighs, his hands everywhere. Your lips part temporarily as he yanks the sweater off over your head, eyes widening at the sight of your nipples clear through your t-shirt before his mouth captures yours hungrily once more.

It’s all teeth and tongue— messy. A fiery culmination of all the months of tension between you. He kisses you like he’s trying to devour you, and you reciprocate by doing the same in return.

There’s no time to cherish his body, or allow him to worship yours. You need him. Now.

As you work the zipper of his suit pants open, James makes light work of your shorts and panties. He pulls away from the kiss, tugging the fabric quickly down your legs before humming appreciatively at the sight of your bare cunt.

He moves back in to kiss you, but instead of doing so, he lets his lips brush yours delicately, breath hot on your cheek. His hands glide up your thighs, and as he reaches your core, the tips of his fingers smooth through your folds, coating them liberally with slick. The contact makes you whine.

“You sure you’re not jealous, baby girl? Because you’re fuckin’ wet for someone who claims they’re not into me,” he whispers against your lips, letting out a deep, hushed laugh.

“I never said— fuck!” You groan as his finger breaches your heat until he’s knuckle deep, curling it upwards as he does so.

“Yeah? You like that?” he teases softly, pushing in another. “How ‘bout this?”

Your entire body tightens as he holds them still, bright cerulean staring down at you, his lips puffy and swollen from your kisses. All you want him to do is move. Canting your hips slightly as you give him a reluctant nod, James’ lips split into a wide grin.

“There ya go.” 

His fingers retreat slowly before plunging them back inside you. You cry out, grabbing onto his biceps to keep you steady as he begins to fuck you open, a litany of damp praises tumbling from his lips on a loop. You writhe on his fingers, the warmth in your belly coiling tighter with each drive and retreat, feeling your climax teetering in the distance, the threat of it blooming into something explosive.

“Fuck, you should see the mess you're makin’ of my couch, baby girl,” James observes with pride, tongue resting heavy on his lips as he concentrates his stare between your spread thighs. “C’mon, show me that tongue,” he adds in a whisper, the tone of his voice contradictory— all rough and gravelly.

You part your lips slowly and stick it out.

“Good girl.”

As his fingers retreat, leaving you wanting and bereft, you whine at the loss. He shoves them into your mouth, muting your mewls as the sweet tangy arousal lays thickly on your tongue.

“Suck.”

Closing your lips around the intrusion in your mouth, you hollow your cheeks like you’re sucking dick. James stares at you, marvelling at the sight of you licking his fingers clean.

“Get my cock out,” he orders.

Your hands work fast to free him of the confines of his underwear, and when your fingers finally curl around his hard length, you blanch a little at the size. You stroke up his shaft, chest swelling with pride as James growls deeply, his next command causing the heat in the pit of your stomach to twist and tighten.

“Get those fuckin’ knees up. Show me that pretty pussy.”

You fall back against the couch cushions, and curling your arms around your legs as you roll onto your side, you bring your knees to your chest, leaving you vulnerable and exposed to him. James shuffles up behind you, cock poised in his hands as he teases the head through your folds.

Even though there’s no need for prep, a strained whimper still falls from your lips as he edges forward into your wet heat, his hefty girth stretching you wide. When your eyes scrunch closed at the intense pressure, he’s careful to stop and check you’re alright.

“It’s just so…” you gasp, feeling him slide in another inch, “big.”

James laughs softly at the compliment, and retreats a little.

“No no, don’t stop,” you reassure him, grabbing his forearm to coax him closer. He follows your instruction, driving further inside you with a low groan as his hips finally meet your ass. You let go of a strained cry at the impossibly deep angle.

He begins to move back and forth, each drag of his cock hitting every pressure point inside you as his thrusts quicken until the sound of skin slapping skin fills the vast lounge, mixed with your heady moans for James to fuck you harder.

“That’s it baby girl,” he coos, pulling back to stare in awe where you conjoin. “Wish you could see your greedy little cunt swallowing up my cock.”

James reaches between you, his fingers toying with your pussy lips, and parts them a little more, eyes lighting up as he watches himself disappear back inside you.

He slides his fingers up, swapping them out to sweep his thumb over your clit. Immediately you clench around him, feeling heat pooling in your core as he circles your bead with expert precision.

“Fuck, you’re soakin’ me.”

You know. You can feel it coating his cock each time he drives back inside you. Can feel it dripping out of you, and down onto the stupidly expensive leather below you. James continues to praise you throughout, his thumb ceasing to let up its ministrations as he coaxes you closer and closer to euphoria.

“C’mon, come for me baby girl,” he urges, shifting his thumb a millimetre to the right just as his cock brushes over a particular spot inside you. “Come for me.”

“Oh g-god, I’m gonna—”

The words die on your tongue as you explode. Rushes of heat and pleasure fill your veins, and you tense under the weight of your delirium, teeth pulling painfully at your bottom lip as you come harder than you ever thought you possibly could.

It’s not until your vision re-focuses that you notice James staring down at you, a lazy smirk painted across his lips as he fucks you.

“What… are you… so happy about?” you question breathlessly between thrusts.

“Always thought about what you would look like having an orgasm,” he chuckles lightly as he reaches for your ankles and pulls your legs roughly apart.

Rolling over onto your back, you groan at the new depth, eyes rolling as you swear you feel him in your stomach. “Now you don’t have to just think about it.”

“Now I can just remember what it feels like to have you squeezin’ ‘round my dick.”

You clench at his words, pride filling your chest as his eyes flutter closed at the sensation so you do it again. “Hm, like this?”

“Fuck baby girl, you’re gonna make me come if you keep doin’ that,” he breathes.

You tense around his length once more, smirking up at him this time, enjoying the sight of him losing his composure.

“Please James,” you plead, biting down on your lower lip, unsure of what you’re really asking him for.

He grunts. “Love it when you say my name like that.”

“James,” you purr, which only serves to make his hips snap harder. “Oh god, you’re gonna make me come again.”

“Yeah?” he smirks proudly.

“Mm hm,” you squeak. “Want you to come with me. Fill up my pretty little pussy.”

“Shit, you are a dirty girl, aren’t ya?”

You nod, pushing your feet harder down into the couch, angling your hips up so he can drive in even deeper. You’re trembling again before you know it, surrendering entirely to your orgasm as James growls, hissing your name through his teeth as he spills into you, his seed warming you from the inside out.

Once his hips stutter to a stop, he collapses on top of you, leaving a trail of tiny pecks across your collarbone. Eventually, he leans back up on his palms, and gazes down at you in complete adoration.

“Sorry about the mess,” you apologise with a little giggle when he pulls out, feeling his seed dribble down through your folds and onto the couch below you.

“It’s fine.” He places a sloppy kiss on your lips, laughing at the look of horror on your face as he jokes, “I’ll just send your Dad the dry cleanin’ bill.”

***

WDNA: @aquariusbarnes​ @my-divine-death​ @nastybuckybarnes​ @maeve-writes​ @teishalicious​ @dreamlessinparis​ @beautifulrose0809​ @buckysdxll @mollyscoffe45​ @j-j-ehlby-writes​ @lowercasegenius​ @syrenavenger​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @sagechanoafterdark​

Bucky: @andreasworlsboring101​ @adreamemporium​ @cake-writes​ @deanwinchesterswitch​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @hurricanerin​ @sammykb1994​ @smokeandnailz​ @syntheticavenger​ @vicmc624​

ALL SS: @chamberofsloths​ @imanuglywombat​ @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay​ @jensenswinchester​ @la-cey​ @livstilinski​ @otomefromtheheart​ @starlightcrystalline​ @sharp-cheekbones-locked​ @saiyanprincessswanie​@sunwardsss​ @threeminutesoflife​ @xoxonotme​

Forever: @amandamdiehl​ @becs-bunker @buttercandy16​ @crashdevlin​ @daughterofthenight117​ @donnaintx​ @danneelsmain​ @dandywinchesterbras​ @doctor-hp-mcu @deangirl93​ @doozywoozy​ @downanddirtydean​ @foxyjwls007​ @gayasslookinass​ @hoewkeye​ @heyyouwiththeassbutt​ @hoboal87​ @ilovefanfic86​ @jewelswrites-ish​ @joseyrw​ @letsby​ @letsdisneythings​ @mogaruke​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @nik2write​ @obsessivelycapricious​ @pinkshenanigan​ @princessmisery666​ @rattwritesfics​ @sea040561​ @sweeterthanthis​ @slutformarvelmen​ @simpformarvelmenandwoman​ @stoneyggirl​ @that-one-gay-girl​ @warriorqueen1991​ @wonder-cole​ @xoxabs88xox​ @zooaliaa​

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfiction

[immersed-in-mischief]

Something Good- Part 4 (Tom Hiddleston x Reader)

Summary: You deal with the awkward aftermath of your mother’s interrogation and things start to develop between the two you. 

Series Masterlist 

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After taking a minute to process what had just happened, you dug through your bag for the phone charger and made your way back into the living room. Tom had returned to his spot on the couch and smirked at you as you fell into the couch on the other end.

“Here, Babe. You look like you need this…”

You finally uncovered your face to take the bottle from his hand. At least the look on his face was far from annoyed.

“Tom, I am so sorry. That was the most embarrassing moment of my entire life. I don’t know what I expected when I had to tell her that I was staying with a guy I met on the plane. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go crawl into a dark corner and die now!”

He laughed at you again but reached out and took your hand.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m close with my mom, too. I get it. Don’t worry about it. I think it’s sweet that she worries that much. My mother wouldn’t exactly approve of me bringing a woman from the flight back to my hotel room either! I just wish I was there in person when she calls to drill my publicist, Luke, in the morning!”

Now it was your turn to choke on your beer.

“She’s going to do WHAT?!”

Tom smiled at you and rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Apparently she needed a character witness. I should give him a head’s up, but where’s the fun in that?”

The knock at the door gave you a moment to pull yourself back together. You got up to join him in the kitchen as he laid out the food on the island. He noticed you finishing off the now slightly warm beer on your way over and took it from you. He didn’t even have to ask. You just nodded your head.

“One more, coming right up!”

He wasn’t sure if you would want to eat at the dining table off the kitchen or not. Burgers and beers weren’t exactly formal dining. When he handed you the fresh beer, he was pleasantly surprised to watch you return to the living room before sitting down in the floor against the couch to eat off the coffee table. You just looked so relaxed and at home. Somehow you continued to surprise him. It was refreshing from the life had been living the last few years. It was like he was back in college and just a regular person again. He grabbed his food and joined you in the floor next to you. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence while you both ate. He wasn’t kidding. It was the best burger you had ever had in your life. It could have been because it was also your first meal of the day, too. After he finished off his burger, he wiped his mouth and took a swig of his beer.

“Hey Georgia?”

You turned your attention to him while you chewed a bite.

“Why did your mother call me, and I quote, the ‘cute bad guy’?”

You closed your eyes and shook your head.

“Jesus… I’m going to kill that woman…”

Tom chuckled and continued to tease.

“I mean, I’m flattered. I’ve certainly been called worse in my life…”

You playfully punched his arm as you took a swig. He smiled and watched you. How could he unsettle you so quickly with a single look?

“Okay… I can’t believe I’m saying this… “

You turned your body to face him and gathered the courage.

“A few months ago, me and a few friends stayed up until 3am our time to secure tickets for Dark World on opening night. This confused my mother, and she didn’t understand why anyone would do that. When I tried to explain Marvel movies to her, her eyes just glazed over, so over the next week while I was home, she sat down and watched them with me. Of course, instead of calling the characters by their actual names, she gave them her own names. Loki to her became the cute bad guy after watching Avengers…”

Tom just nodded along as you spoke. The grin on his face grew the longer you went on. He was quiet for a moment as he nursed his beer.

“You didn’t just recognize me on the plane, Georgia. You hid your ‘fan girl’ extremely well. I’m quite impressed, actually.”

He caught himself just as you pushed him over.

“Then I guess you didn’t see me try to leave the plane?”

This was news to him and he turned to face you this time with a look of shock.

“Stop! You did not! You must be joking.”

He watched you take a rather large chug off your beer.

“No, I did. The damn flight attendant wouldn’t let me. You were busy on your phone and didn’t see me when I walked up the first time. I was star struck until I double checked my seat again and freaked out. You weren’t the only one who looked like an idiot when we first met. You just didn’t see my moment.”

Luckily, you both laughed as he leaned back against the couch looked up at the ceiling.

“You think you know someone…”

“Oh shut up, Hollywood! I should have never said anything!”

Tom reached down and took your hand again and kissed the back of it.

“Nah Darling, I’m glad you told me. It’s cute. I didn’t take you for the Marvel type. Would you believe me if I told you that I was a huge fan before I was cast in Thor?”

Now it was your turn to be surprised.

“Seriously?”

He nodded his head and turned to look at you with the side of his head still resting against the couch.

“It’s true. I always loved superheroes growing up and I was excited when I went to see Iron Man at the cinema with a few friends. Before I knew it, I got the chance to audition for Thor, got cast as Loki, met Chris, and started on this insane journey. I went from just a fan to being a part of it and getting to join Robert at the premiere for Iron Man 3 earlier this year.”

“Wait… did you say audition for Thor but cast as Loki? You weren’t talking about auditioning for the movie Thor were you? Tom, did you audition for the role of Thor?...”

He covered his eyes and groaned. The embarrassment on his face was sweet.

“Yes Darling, I did in fact audition for Thor. Obviously, Chris is a much better Thor and Loki is more like me anyways.”

You leaned over towards him and gave him a mischievous look. He found it rather attractive.

“If I get a few more beers into you tonight, can I see this audition tape? Pretty please?”

“Absolutely not! I believe I’m ready for that cake now.”

He jumped up from the floor and grabbed the empty bottles from the table as he quickly escaped into the kitchen. You carried both plates in after him.

“Fine, Hollywood. I’m just saying that I have embarrassed myself enough tonight. It’s only fair that you even the score but you can be that way…”

Tom sighed as he opened the box and moved his slice of cake onto a plate before turning around to the microwave.

“What on earth are you doing?”

He turned and winked at you.

“It will change your life. Trust me.”

You watched with curiosity as he set the microwave for 15 seconds and quickly got out a spoon and removed the ice cream just as the timer went off. With a look of pure excitement, he scooped the ice cream onto the warm plate and cut off a bite of the cake along with some of the ice cream and reached the spoon over to you. Tom watched as you cautiously took the bite, letting the spoon slide back out from between your lips. The moan you let out took him by surprise and he found himself wishing he could hear it again under different circumstances.

“Oh my God, Tom. That is incredible! Why did I not know about this?!”

Before he could stop himself, he reached up and wiped the smear of icing from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. In the silence of the kitchen, he was able to hear the gasp you made as he then brought his thumb to his mouth. The few beers in his system were making him slightly bolder than usual. He could still feel your eyes on him as he turned to grab a second spoon from the drawer and handed it to you. Neither of you said a word as you stood in the kitchen and split the cake and ice cream. You had never thought of something being so simple yet so intimate. The memory of his thumb caressing your lip before bringing the thumb to his own lips kept creeping back into your head.

“Go ahead, Darling. You can have the last bite.”

An idea came to mind as you scooped up the last of it with your spoon.

“Nope. It was your treat, Hollywood. The last bite goes to you.”

Before he could protest, you brought the spoon up to him. He hesitated for a moment before leaning down to let you feed him like he had fed you earlier. Just as he opened his mouth a smirk spread across your face. Almost as if he read your mind, his eyes widened as you quickly moved the spoon and caught his upper lip with the now cold dessert before feeding it to him. Tom playfully glared at you as his tongue darted out to lick the icing from his lip as you laughed at him. You watched him as he did a poor job to clean it up.

“You missed a spot, Hollywood.”

As he raised his hand to wipe his mouth, you reached up and grabbed his shirt and pulled him down towards you. The smile on his face matched yours as your lips finally connected with his. The first kiss was sweet and short. Tom let out a low chuckle as he caught on to your game. He pulled back to look at you for a moment before leaning back in for another. This kiss was longer and deeper than the first. When he placed his hands on your waist and leaned in, you found yourself pined back against the island. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you melted into his kiss. Taking control, you deepened the kiss causing him to let out a slight moan when his tongue tangled with yours. He tasted sweet and intoxicating. Tom’s full weight leaned into you as his arms left your waist to wrap around your back and pull you flush against him. Time didn’t seem to exist in that moment. It could have been five minutes or an hour. Neither of you cared. Finally, you pulled away, leaving one final kiss on his swollen lips.

“I need another beer. Do you want one?”

Tom was stunned as you slipped past him towards the fridge. His hand was still hanging in the air where it had been against your cheek. Just when he thought he was beginning to figure you out, you changed things up on him.

You were a mystery to him … and he loved it.

Part 5

Mischief Makers (tagging list) :

@ruiningthe1975

@nms224

@youlightmeupfinn

@salempoe

@lokiprompts

@oasiswithmyg

@saltandapepper

@chwlogy

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@ca-loki

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@thankyouforanonymity

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@tgaylorxoxo

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@ordinarylokix

#loki smut #loki fluff #loki angst #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fandom #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction

[elainsshadows]

I want to talk about Elain today and her role in future books. I will also be talking about other ships at the end of this including: Lucien x Vassa, Lucien x Elain, and Azriel x Gwyn. These are merely my opinions and thoughts, this is not me trying to bash anyone else's opinions. I am open to having discussions as long as you are kind and respectful.

This is going to be long as a warning. Let's begin.

Quiet Strength

My friend recently start reading ACOTAR and she came to me one day and said that she had found a quote that she really liked. That quote was:

"She had looked at that cottage with hope; I had looked at it with nothing but hatred. And I knew which one of us had been stronger" ~ ACOTAR, pg. 259

I know that a lot of antis like to bring up the fact that Elain didn't do anything but plant flowers and such while Feyre was out risking her life to put food on the table. Why hadn't Elain planted food instead? As someone who tried to garden vegetables with her dad one year I can tell you it's not as easy as flowers.

Maybe Elain was trying to bring some color into their drab little existence like Feyre had done with the paints. Maybe she wanted one thing to make her happy.

When Feyre comes to see them in ACOMAF, to ask for their help, it was Elain who said that they should help.

"If... if we do not help Feyre, there won't be a wedding." ~ ACOMAF pg. 247

"Feyre gave and gave - for years. Let us help her. Help... others." ~ ACOMAF pg. 248

Elain was risking a lot by saying they should now help their Fae sister. She was going to be married to someone who's family hated the Fae. If they found out what Elain and Nesta were doing it would probably be the end of her engagement to Graysen. They would become Fae sympathizers and like the Children of the Blessed we see mentioned throughout the books.

Would a coward risk all of this? Not to me they wouldn't.

When Rhys, Az, and Cassian arrive once Elain had cleared out the servants. Elain, while scared, still tries to be a good host to the four of them. I want to come back to this scene when I discuss Elriel because this was the moment that I first started thinking that they would make a good pair.

But while Nesta and Feyre are more bold with their actions like wielding swords, bow and arrows, knives, etc., Elain doesn't necessarily back down from a challenge. When given Truth-Teller she simply states that she doesn't know how to use it. She does not shove it back at Azriel and refuse it, she simply informs him she doesn't know how to use it.

Also when they had been captured by Hybern and all that mess was going down. Tamlin had been gunning for Feyre and it was Elain who did this:

"But Elain's cry - a warning. A warning to- To my right, now exposed, Tamlin ran for me. To grab me at last." ACOMAF pg. 602

Elain, despite being scared in this highly stressful situation, saw her sister in danger and tried her hardest to warn her. If it had not been for Elain, Tamlin might have been able to grab Feyre at that moment in all the confusion and chaos. Despite being in her nightgown and terrified she still tried to protect her younger sister.

Once again when people are in danger once the Wall had been taken down it was Elain who spoke up. She knew that Graysen's family's estate could help protect those closest to the Wall and from any Fae that may come to do them harm.

"Glamour me," Elain said - to Rhys. "Make me look human. Just long enough to convince him to open his gates to those seeking sanctuary." ~ ACOWAR pg. 471

"It's already ended badly. Now it's just a matter of deciding how we meet the consequences." ~ ACOWAR pg. 471

She's Fae now. If Graysen or any of his family or those working for them knew this (which we see that they did) then they might kill her on sight. She risked her life to make sure defenseless humans remained as safe as they could with the oncoming war.

When Azriel and Feyre go to Hybern's camp to save Elain they also save another human. They are being pursued and clearly, the human girl is terrified of them, but it is Elain that says this:

"Grab onto him!" Elain ordered to the wide-eyed human girl as Azriel thundered toward her. *skipped ahead* "Elain screamed at her, "If you want to live, do it now!" ~ ACOWAR pg. 577

She also does this when the King of Hybern's beasts are upon them:

"Elain moved. As Azriel battled to keep them airborne, keep his grip on them, my sister sent a fierce kick into the beast's face. Its eye. *Skipped ahead* "Elain slammed her bare, muddy foot into its face again. The blow struck home." ACOWAR pg. 577

Knowing that their lives are in danger and that if this beast does anything to Azriel's wings they are all going to die. She does not hesitate and does not back down as she goes after the beast with her barefoot.

She slays the King of Hybern as well:

"Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the King's neck as she snarled in his ear, "Don't you touch my sister." ~ ACOWAR pg. 652

She has a protective streak in her and she will go down swinging if she has to.

And this I just found interesting. Everyone seems to shy away from Amren, but in ACOFAS this happens when they're all eating together:

"Elain, to my surprise, held Amren's gaze." ~ ACOFAS pg. 108

I just like that she held Amren's gaze.

Being Feminine Isn't Boring

I see a lot of people saying that Elain being feminine is boring, that she isn't an exciting heroine. Yes, Elain isn't one of SJM's typical heroines, but I think that makes her all the more interesting. We've never seen someone who isn't like Aelin, Bryce, Feyre, and Nesta from SJM.

"Elain stood between Nuala and Cerridwen at the long worktable. All three of them covered in flour." ~ ACOWAR pg. 386

"Elain was in the kitchen, helping Nuala and Cerridwen prepare the evening meal." ~ ACOFAS pg. 101

"She'd been toiling in the estate gardens since dawn." ~ ACOSF pg. 28

"Elain had already departed with Feyre, claiming she had to be up with the dawn to tend to an elderly faerie's garden." ~ ACOSF pg. 311

Do I think Elain's entire book will be based on her baking and taking care of gardens? No, I don't. I think she is capable of more than that and that is going to lead into my next point.

Elain Archeron, 007

This is not a new theory and it isn't even one that I came up with. Many lovely Elriels have pointed out comparisons to Azriel and Elain and how he may even teach her how to be a spy. I think it is a perfectly lovely idea. Let me show you some quotes from the book that make me think that this could be a possibility.

"Elain spoke from the doorway, having appeared so silently that they all twisted toward her, "Using me." ~ ACOSF pg. 230

They were talking about looking for the Dread Trove here and scrying. They were debating who should do it when Elain stepped up. She has done this before and with her seer abilities she is a perfect choice for the job. Obviously several characters aren't thrilled with the idea (Nesta and Azriel being two of the ones that don't like the idea).

"Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, "There is an innate darkness to the Drea Trove that Elain should not be exposed to." ~ ACOSF pg. 311

"Elain saw every single thing Nesta had done, and understood why." ~ ACOSF pg. 470

"You came," Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. *skipped ahead* "Wondering if she'd been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends." ~ ACOSF pg. 595

We see that even Nesta is questioning whether or not Elain has been having lessons. She very well could have or this could be a hidden talent that Nesta has never gotten to see or never cared to see because she viewed Elain as someone who is innocent and needing protection.

Nesta mothers Elain throughout the series, we constantly see her coming to Elain's defense, stepping in front of her, talking for her. And while Elain used to let that slide we can see now that she is coming into her own and not letting Nesta walk all over her.

"Elain said, "You can't have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater." ~ ACOSF pg. 232

I think Elain has been denied many things in her life because she has been seen as the most beautiful. Her own mother seeing her as nothing more than a pretty face that would be easy to marry off once she was of age. What will she do now that she has more freedom than she did before? Now that she will not become some lord's wife?

I do not see Elain as a warrior who is ready for battle, but I see her being ready for a different kind of battle.

"It took hours for Elain to work her charm on the staff to swiftly pack their bags and leave, each with a purse of money to hasten the process." ~ ACOMAF pg. 250

You know who else is charming? James Bond.

Being another pretty face has something going for Elain. No one would look at her and think "Yeah she's totally a spy." She can charm people, make them feel more at ease, and get them to open up. Maybe even enough that they think nothing of divulging things in front of her that otherwise shouldn't be overheard.

Maybe she can learn to glamour herself so that she is not recognizable to others. Who knows but I'm sure we'll find out when her book happens.

Welcome To Spring

One of my least favorite theories I've seen is that Elain will leave the Night Court and her family to go to Spring. Even going as far as saying that she will wind up with Tamlin. I don't think Feyre would let her sister wind up with her abuser plain and simple. Nor do I think Elain would fall for her sister's abuser just because he lives in a land of eternal spring and has flowers.

In ACOSF Nesta has this thought:

"Elain would love this place. So many flowers, all in bloom, so much green, *skipped ahead* But Elain... The Spring Court had been made for someone like her." ~ ACOSF pg. 454

While I do believe that Elain would love the Spring Court I do not think she would ever leave her family or friends behind.

"Two half-wraiths she called friends." ~ ACOSF pg. 595

"Cassian kissing Elain's cheek in greeting. *skipped ahead* Amren came next, giving my sister a nod. *skipped ahead* The Mor, with a smacking kiss for either cheek." ~ ACOFAS pg. 105

We also know that the sisters tend to consider one of the brothers friends. Feyre with Cassian, Nesta with Azriel, and I believe Rhys and Elain will also be friends. He seems to like Elain (certainly more than he likes Nesta).

Plus now there is Nyx in the mixture and why would she leave and miss out on her nephew growing up? What about if Nesta becomes pregnant and has a child? So no I do not believe that Elain will leave the Night Court.

Shipping Time

Here is where opinions and feelings may vary and people might not like what I have to say. Just know that these are merely my feelings on a ship. Ship what you want to ship, I am not here to gatekeep. These are merely my feelings on the matter. I'm going to start with the two ships I like: Elain x Azriel and Lucien x Vassa.

Elain Archeron x Azriel

I mentioned this earlier but I've been shipping them since ACOMAF. I saw the potential for them from the moment they began to interact.

"Elain rasped, "Nice to meet you," before hustling after her, the silk skirts of her cobalt dress whispering over the parquet floor." ~ ACOMAF pg. 253

I like the symbolism in this line. Cobalt = Azriel's siphons. Whispering = Azriel's shadows. While it might not be that deep as a writer I like the small things like this in my works. Things that later when you come back to them after something important happens that is a callback to something like this you can go "ooooh that makes sense now, yeah." We also do see other mentions of Elain wearing blue, but this post is long enough and it's only a few more times so I don't think it's worth noting. This part just sticks out to me because it's the first time they're meeting and like I said I love symbolism.

"Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, "Can you truly fly?" ~ ACOMAF pg. 256

Elain who has been taught to fear the Fae is talking to him, also probably leaning around Cassian - who she is seated next to and also has wings - and asking if he can fly.

Azriel responds on the same page saying, "We're born hearing the song of the wind." And her response of, "That's very beautiful." This is the same male who famously said he wouldn't need poetry to woo a woman. Maybe he's not trying to woo her here, but he's trying to impress her.

"Elain, noticing Azriel's ease as proof that things weren't indeed about to go badly offered one (a smile) of her own as well." ~ ACOMAF pg. 258

She seems mighty comfortable with a Fae she just met. Which leads my into my two mate theory that I've had for some time now.

We know the tweet where SJM says that someone can have two mates. This was during a time when one of the TOG novels was about to come out and was probably referencing something in there, but I think it would be interesting to see play out in this situation as well.

We've seen several times people questioning Elain and Lucien's mating bond. Feyre and Azriel both do it. Feyre during ACOWAR and Azriel in his bonus chapter from ACOSF.

We also know that not all mates are happy pairings ie. Rhysand's parents and Tamlin's parents. We also know that sometimes it's based on who would have the strongest offspring. We can see this reflected in both Rhysand and Feyre's mating (he's considered the most powerful High Lord and she has abilities from all seven HLs).

But what if Elain and Lucien aren't true mates? True mates to me is a happily mated pair like Feyre and Rhys as well as Nesta and Cassian. Azriel questions why his brothers were mated to two sisters while the third was mated to another. (Pardon me for not using quotes here, I do not have the bonus chapter so I am going from memory.)

Why indeed? And I think it was because he was on the floor dying at the time. We know that the Cauldron loves Elain, so if her true mate was on the floor dying and there was no guarantee for survival it would make sense for the Cauldron to gift Elain another mating bond.

I will talk more about this in the section where I discuss them as a ship, but I wanted to briefly mention it here.

We also know the scene where Azriel hands over Truth-Teller to her, something that shocks all of them. I think of Truth-Teller like Azriel's security blanket. Something that brings him comfort and he never ever wants to part with it. But he gives it to Elain.

After she was taken by the Cauldron and held captive at Hybern's camp. After she says this:

"She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. "You came for me." The shadowsinger only inclined his head." ~ ACOWAR pg. 573

Why did she look only to Azriel? Why did she seem so surprised that he would come for her? Kind of like how a princess might not believe that her prince has come for her. (Love me some Disney princess movies)

To me these two just fit together. And to me they are more like Hades and Persephone than Feyre and Rhysand are. And hear me out: Elain as Persephone, goddess of spring. Azriel as Hades, god of death. (Feyre once calls him Death when thinking of a painting of him and Elain. Death and the lovely fawn she called it). Some might see Azriel and Elain falling in love as stealing her away from her mother (or mate in this case).

Also if you want another mythology reference. Paris (Azriel), Helen (Elain), Menelaus (Lucien). Helen was considered the most beautiful and was stolen away from her husband Menelaus (though I think she went with Paris willingly so there's that.)

I see so many parallels and signs that point toward an Elriel endgame. We know Elain's book is in the works and I'm pretty sure it's next since Sarah has talked about doing research for her book. We also know that Sarah is excited to work with Azriel as well.

Moving on.

Lucien Vanserra x Vassa

I've been shipping them since ACOWAR. So not as long as Elriel, but since a bit. I think this was the line that did it for me:

"Indeed, Vassa still remained inside, chatting with Lucien animatedly. *skipped ahead* Lucien, surprisingly, was chuckling, his shoulders loose and his head angled while he listened." ~ ACOWAR pg. 690

Unlike with Elain, he seems comfortable around Vassa.

"Even with Elain here, he's become close with Jurian and Vassa. He's voluntarily living with them these days, and not just as an emissary. As their friend." ~ ACOSF pg. 57

I'm a sucker for the friends to lovers trope (it only falls after the enemies to lovers trope). And while we do not have a lot on them I can see the two of them being happy. I can see Lucien trying to find a way to make her immortal if that's what she wants. And I just want the two of them finding their HEA together in the final book.

My theory is that Vassa will be the MC of the last book and will deliver the killing blow to Koschei (as she should). I would love to see their journey together and their time together in the mortal lands especially since the mating bond would be severed at this point if Elriel is the book before this one. I want Lucien to be happy and I think that he could be happy with Vassa.

Elain Archeron x Lucien Vanserra

We know that Elain and Lucien are mates. He announced this on page 608 a little bit after Elain had come out of the Cauldron. But these two do not seem to fit together in my opinion. Now please note I have nothing against Elucien, I even like some of the fanart and the theories I have read are wonderful. I'm just personally not a fan of these two because of how they were thrust together.

When comparing Jesiminda and Elain, Lucien says this:

"Elain had been... thrown at him." ACOWAR pg. 249

I know Lucien wants to be happy and I know mates are special, but I don't necessarily think that Elain will be his happiness. I think that the way they met ruined that for them.

"But Elain blinked slowly, "You were in Hybern." *Skipped ahead* "You betrayed us." ACOWAR pg. 250 - 251

Lucien, however willing or unwillingly, did play some part in Elain being turned Fae. He was one of the reasons she could no longer go home or marry Graysen. I don't know if that's something that could be overcome especially since Elain is still dealing with the events of that day.

We also know that Elain tends to avoid him, shrinking in on herself when he's around. Another reason why I can't ship this is because I've been in a similar situation where people were pressuring me to be with someone I had no interest in. I know what it's like to hear "you two are perfect for each other", "you should give him a chance", "just try".

Their relationship is not evolving naturally like Feyre and Rhys's did or Cassian and Nesta's. I don't think Lucien would ever push the mating bond onto Elain, but I do think since it's something special to Fae he may cling to it more than she will.

Another thing about their bond that doesn't sit with me is how it is described.

"It felt... strange," Elain breathed. "Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib." ACOWAR pg. 301

"There's a bond - it's a real thread," he said, more to himself than us." ACOWAR pg. 301

Other bonds have been described as "so much golden thread" or an "unbreakable chain". But Elain and Lucien's is described as a singular thread that feels as though it were attached to a rib. To me mating bonds are like soulmates, why would that bond be attached to a rib and not the heart or her being?

I believe that once again either the Cauldron created this bond between them or maybe they are not what's considered a "perfect match" like Elain's sisters with their mates are.

I will say this: If Elain and Lucien do wind up together I won't be mad. Sure they are not my preferred ship, but they both deserve happiness and can find it together then good for them. We will just have to wait and see where SJM takes them.

Azriel x Gwyn Berdara

I've lowkey been dreading talking about them because of how toxic this fanwar between Elriels and Gwynriels gets. Once again this is just my opinion and my theories. No hate or shade to any of the shippers. I will not be bashing theories. If you don't want to read my thoughts then please just leave now and pretend you never saw this.

I do not like Azriel and Gwyn as a ship for one very big reason: power imbalance. Azriel saved Gwyn from a highly traumatic experience. Now before I go any further let me say that I brought this up to my mom who also reads the series but isn't a shipper, she just reads them to enjoy them. I asked her what she thought of Az x Gwyn as a pairing and if she would like to see that and she said no that she also felt there would be a power imbalance.

Gwyn is a strong character, but I do not think I could get behind her and Az as a couple because of how they met.

I also do not believe that Gwyn will be the MC of any of the last books there are. We still have Elain's book, possibly a Mor book, or even Vassa. There are too many people from the original trilogy that we need to see books for. While I will not rule out a book in the future I don't see her getting one now.

I know the necklace is a hot button issue, but I also don't believe that Clotho gave it to her. We never hear it mentioned in the main portion of the book and I think Clotho knew how troubled Azriel was and thought that she should hold onto it just in case.

"You're the new ribbon, Az," ~ ACOSF pg. 623

Gwyn is a competitive person, to me this line that Nesta says is here merely telling Az that Gwyn's next challenge would be to prove him wrong about the training course. Nesta knows of Azriel's feelings for her sister by this point, so I don't see this line as her teasing Az about Gwyn possibly having a crush on him.

But again these are just how I interpret things between them.

These are all my thoughts at the moment that I'm going to share. If you would like to have a discussion my ask box is open. Hate will not be tolerated though.

#Elain Archeron #Elriel #Azriel #pro Elain Archeron #pro Azriel #pro Elriel #ACOTAR 5 #ACOTAR 5 predictions #ACOTAR theories

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Mystery Writer (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Spencer finds books at a second hand bookstore that are annotated and he falls the person writing the notes. 

AN: This was part of a fic swap on @imagining-in-the-margins​ server! This is for the marvellous @definitelynotkatesblog​ <3 I really hope you like it! I had to delete the original post because it didn't show up in the tags. This will be staying up regardless of that now.

Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

“If you need anything, just let me know!”

Spencer pressed his lips together at the person behind the till before heading deeper into the rows of second-hand books. Familiar titles, old and new, printed on spines in various states of pristine/decay, they tempted him to select and bring them home with him. The clear sections between biographies and fiction guided him deeper into the forest, deeper into finding his way out. He was hoping to adopt one such book for a day off, when he could revisit it with a fresh eye. It would be like seeing an old friend again, remembering why they were friends in the first place with a hint of that initial read through from years ago, and perhaps he would learn something new in the process.

A dull ache in his chest at the sight of The Sign of Four by Arthur Conan Doyle. But he had long since recovered from that heartbreak and he would be able to read this story without feeling that again.

Still. It had been several years since he read this book.

His nervous fingers plucked it off the shelf and the pages fell open for him. A flattened gum wrapper parted the pages like the Red Sea. Spencer lifted it out tentatively. Its creases were ironed in from its role as a temporary bookmark, an impression of scribbled black ink flattened after it was made.

Spencer’s eyes scanned over the page in search of what this gum wrapper might have been guarding.

“Women are never to be entirely trusted – not the best of them.”

In the margins was scribbled:

Product of the time, but still a prick, rude smartarse role a bit dull

Spencer found himself exhaling in light laughter. That a lack of empathy was considered “dull” by this person, when it was something he dealt with in his job almost every day. The confidence in this commentary too, this brazen critique of a much beloved fictional character was left for someone else to find.

His gaze found Watson’s opinion of Holmes’ casual sexism: “atrocious sentiment”. It was circled twice in the same black biro.

Spencer dug his thumb against the text block and flicked through the book. A waft of that book smell lifted from the paper, accompanied by the bold notes of the previous owner dotted across the text until he finally landed on the reverse of the front cover. Two letters – initials - were scratched onto it.

It was with bridled exhilaration that Spencer approached the till and held up the book with a half-smile. His hands were quick to place it down on the counter so that the shop assistant could type the price into the till. His mood was apparently palpable because they seemed just as happy as Spencer to hand him back the novel in a brown paper bag – the receipt tucked inside.

 --->--->--->--->--->

 “Love is an emotional thing, and whatever emotional is opposed to what is true, cold reason, which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgement.”  

What a lonely existence and also a lie. See: entire relationship w/ Dr. Watson!

Spencer smiled at this comment. Now all the other instances of a double underlining made sense. Each one produced itself in his mind as evidence that Mr Sherlock Holmes did in fact love. Maybe not marry, but it would have been terribly unconventional for him to wed Doctor John Watson. The unknown author seemed to understand this. They never emphasised if this love was platonic or romantic. But the way in which they proved love existed within this character oft portrayed as emotionless, Spencer simply adored. They were a romantic reader, who still enjoyed reading about the cynic

He grew quite aware of his posture in that moment and he straightened his back. A few clicks of complaint emitted as he stretched, his head twisting from side to side. Screwing his eyes open and shut behind his glasses, he revisited your deduction.

On the dot of the “i” in “lie”, there was a sprinkle of graphite around the indent from where a pencil’s lead had snapped from the effort put into topping off this point. A sprinkle of graphite smudged where the pages pressed together.

Spencer moved on to where a sentence in black biro tried to blend in with the printed words. A memory appeared at the front of his mind: when Rossi was bewildered to learn Spencer and Dr. Alex Blake wrote the newspaper crossword in pen.

The pencil markings were like mini brainstorms, something to revisit and make a solid theory with the black biro. But the planning was never rubbed out.

Little quotes were circled. This mystery critic spent half the book roasting the characters and the other half leaving little exclamation marks and circles around phrases and words when they couldn’t think of something to say. Spencer found it sweet, picturing the thrilling unfolding of events for the reader to revisit.

His heart ached in bittersweet memory as he recalled the contents of Dr Alex Blake’s book The Route of Linguistics. It was necessary pain to create a profile of who this mystery critic was. Yes, he was profiling out of work hours. His evenings were now spent trying to picture the voice behind the notes. The sarcasm, the witty blows to the character’s and author’s ego. He almost wished that he couldn’t read so fast because he finished the book, even with its additional notations, all too quickly. But there was one bonus.

Spencer traced the pad of his fingertip over the exclamation marks describing Mary Morstan. What else might a detractor of the great Sherlock Holmes read?

--->--->--->--->---> 

He had returned to the bookshop in favour of adopting another. Yet he could not find one that satisfied his unknown criteria. It was not until he found himself checking the front pages of the fifth book he had selected, that he realised he was looking for a pair of initials.

Sighing, he placed My Dear Bessie, with its empty front page, back on the shelf. The chances of finding another book containing this mystery critic were so minute. He could probably calculate them if he wanted to dedicate himself to such a disheartening statistic. He’d rather not spend his lunch break doing that, as much as he loved statistics. This once, they did not assure his safety and he remained unsupported by the fact that he could not find any other Arthur Conan Doyle books.

His desperation became most apparent when he thought that perhaps fate should just decide for him. If anything, he would come away with a random book to read through in about ten minutes on a flight back home.

He peeked around the corner of the shelves. The shop assistant at the till was busy writing something down, not paying any mind to the shop’s only customer.

“A random shot had no better odds than just picking books off one by one” is what he told himself as he closed his eyes and placed his fingers on the end of the shelf, just over the first book’s spine. In an “S” pattern, his arm moved up and down, over the books and shelves and gaps between units. His feet stepped forwards into the space he knew was clear.

Spencer stopped and opened his eyes, his finger shifting just an inch out of the way of his new book’s title.

Circe. Madeline Miller.

He tapped the top and the book fell forwards, where he caught it. Its shining dust jacket was serving its purpose, a few tears along the edges from where it had protected the hardcover. He checked the front page. A map of Aiaia in orange and brown filled it to the corners. On the next page, his heart stuttered at the sight of two initials in the same handwriting and the same biro. There was also a scribble - invisible to start with then a ball of black.

The first page with the story’s text held a scribble just above its opening line:

the power of the name

“When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.”

He could see that the first was in a blunt pencil, but the addition was a sharpened point carving into the paper. A secondary thought that was provided after completing the novel, they had added it. Spencer lifted it to his face, his eyes crossing to keep the stipple in focus. The scent of the paper and the graphite reached him easily; the note must have been made just before Circe was gifted to him. How lucky he was to find such a treasure.

The shop assistant was cutting out a new sign for “BUY ONE GET ONE HALF PRICE!”. By the time Spencer made it to them, the sign was placed upon the pile besides him. The shop assistant smoothed out a crease on the dust jacket, ineffectively but Spencer admitted the gesture. He was glad that someone who loved books as much as him got to work in a place like this.

--->--->--->--->--->

Spencer’s mind, definitely for worse, echoed the words off the tabloids around his head the split second he made eye contact with the headlines. He paced the shelves to somewhere a little quieter. When he found the chocolate aisle, he pretended to peruse. Ever half a minute or so, his gaze drifted up to the till area where the shop owner was on a phone call and clearly not paying attention to him.

It was not long before Spencer grew bored of looking at KitKats, and he pulled out One Thousand And One Nights. The book’s pages fell again to page 57. This shop’s receipt stood above them, still holding its place from the previous owner. It felt wrong to part the two.

No new people had entered this corner shop for 8 minutes. He’d even given the time at the receipt’s end a fifteen-minute margin either side. Given that this mystery critic took a break from work at the same time on the same day of the week – and that they worked during the day – he should have seen them. Maybe he had, and they were that man in the baggy hoodie who stunk of weed. Probably not. Hopefully not. Not that Spencer was judging him for his… recreational activities. He just wanted the mystery critic to be someone he could realistically spend time with.

Just then, Spencer’s phone trilled annoyingly loud. He received a glare from the shop manager and Spencer sent an awkward apologetic expression his way before answering JJ quickly.

“Spencer, we’ve got a case. We need you here ASAP.”

His response was immediate. “Ok, be there in ten.” Hanging up, Spencer dithered on the spot then grabbed a packet of Cheetos. He’d been there for nearly twenty minutes; he had to get something.

“Three dollars,” the manager said before returning to his call. But not before he rolled his eyes at Spencer. Spencer dropped the bills onto the counter and dashed out before he could be offered a receipt.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  An outlier in the usual length of case work had passed by in five long days. Spencer hardly ever regretted the time he put into this job. Every unsub caught was lives saved. But the absence of his mystery commentator had been niggling at the back of his busy mind and he was glad to finally reunite with them on this long flight back.

From his satchel, he recovered the copy of One Thousand And One Nights and began rereading the notes to ground himself in the story. His focus lingered on the page as if he were reading it at the average 250 words per minute. It allowed him to block out the humming of the engine.

Spencer did not take his eyes off the page as he pulled open his desk drawer and popped a piece of overpriced gum into his mouth. Half-hearted reminders bounced in his head, from when he tried smoking and chewing gum to ease his cravings. The fruit flavour was very clearly artificial and it faded within six minutes. Why his mystery critic would pick such a pathetic packet of gum to chew, he didn’t know. But hopefully the fact of its flavour disappearing fast would mean they get through the packet quicker and buy another soon. Even if today, and the days before, spent in that shop did not lean in favour of that hypothesis.

--->--->--->--->--->

The Five People You Meet In Heaven was in the Recently Donated pile. It was near the top, slid towards the edge of the container after being placed wonkily on a copy of some sports autobiography.

Within the pages was more than Spencer could have ever hoped for. Entire paragraphs were circled, quotes underlined. A squashed mini post-it note tabbed the page and a whole paragraph was scrawled on it, about Tala. An arrow pointing to the underside, Spencer lifted the flap and saw more to read, like an interactive pop-up book that he’d gotten Henry for his second birthday. Spencer closed his eyes quick and snapped the book shut. He wanted to save it for when he was sitting comfortably, not while he was rushing back to work in time for JJ to get to her lunch break on time.

The shop assistant had just clipped the lid back onto a green highlighter when Spencer drew up to their counter. With careful fingers, he placed the book upon it. There was a twitch of the assistant’s mouth; their eyes brightened. They looked like they wanted to say something, but something else held them back from making the first move. Spencer recognised it from his school days.

“It’s a good read.” He spoke after they had typed the price into the till.

“I know,” The assistant replied instantly, a relieved smile on their lips, “What part are you on?”

“I’ve already read it, but I wanted to revisit the passage at the diner.”

“Ahh, that’s a good bit. One of my favourites.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed a fraction of an inch. His gaze dropped to the nametag on the left side of their chest. Y/N, their name’s first initial. It couldn’t be.

“What did you think about the final person, Tala?”

“Oh,” The shop assistant clutched at their heart, “I was an emotional wreck before and it hit me hard just as the rest did. So bittersweet to hear her forgiveness. It took me a few times to finish reading the end, but it was all worth it.”

He couldn’t be this lucky, to get this many books from the same person and to have them standing in front of him. Spencer didn’t believe in luck.

As he reached across for his new book, he turned over the cover, “Was this yours?”

Twisting their head around to read the publication details, the assistant – Y/N - smiled sheepishly at the initials. “Yes, and I’m glad to see it go to a new home.”

Apparently luck believed in him.

“But,” Spencer felt his brows knit automatically as he looked between the book and their previous owner, “You love it. I-I’ve seen your notes.”

A hand clapped over Y/N’s mouth, “Oh God, you must have. I mean, it wasn’t the intention initially, but I thought they might be a little entertaining for anyone who picks it up to leave them in there.”

“Oh, they were! I’d love to read more of your thoughts. Hear, hear them, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Y/N checked the door to the shop, still shut, and back to Spencer. They dropped their elbows onto the countertop with their chin in their palms. “What did you wanna know?”

From his bag, Spencer procured his – their – copy of The Sign of Four and flicked through the pages. So many places to choose, but he wanted to open with what had introduced him to Y/N’s analysis.

The pair put their heads together, leaning on the counter. Spencer could smell the chewing gum on their breath. Y/N never cut him off, and he never wanted to cut them off. There were little pauses at the end of each of their turns to speak before the other picked up where they had left off. Their voices leapt from secretive whispers to passionate orations of their favourite passages, rebounding evidence and analysis off each other like a bouncy ball. Spencer finally had a voice to put to the sarcasm, the one his mind had conjured long forgotten in the wake of Y/N’s enthusiasm.

The shop’s door swung open. Spencer leapt to attention as an older woman swept in, past the two of them towards the non-fiction section. Y/N adjusted their name tag, their back straight too. The clock behind the till announced that it was now twenty minutes after the end of Spencer’s lunch break.

Running on the rush of his hobby meeting a potential friend, Spencer asked, “Can I get your number? So we can talk more, maybe swap some more books, when you’re not working?”

His luck was still by his side as Y/N wrote out their number on his receipt, written in their infamous black biro.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  Spencer leapt over to the door of his apartment, took a deep breath, and unlocked it. Stood behind where it had been was Y/N and they too were still wearing the uniform from work. Their nametag was still on their polo shirt, the same spot that Spencer wore his FBI tag.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked the second they made a step inside his abode.

“Tea would be great. Milk and one sugar please.”

And while he was in the kitchen, Y/N rushed over to the bookshelves, their eyes wide to take in Spencer’s collection. “Oh wow! You weren’t joking!” Their finger indicated to a hard cover copy of Mean Time by Carol Ann Duffy, “That’s one of mine. Well, yours now.”

Plucking it from the shelf, they opened it up. Spencer had written his initials beside theirs.

Spencer stuck his head out in the partition, “Ours. If we’re going to be sharing.” Y/N stood on tiptoes, teeming with delight, their hands cradling the book with all the care Spencer could hope for in a fellow reader. Joint custody of their books and their passion? What a dream.

“I just have to write a little more about the epilogue, and I’ll be with you,” Y/N took their place on his couch. A pencil began scribbling away their thoughts onto the last few pages. Their knees were their desk.

Spencer finished brewing and placed the mug in front of Y/N, who mumbled a quick thank you to him. He joined them in writing his final notes. It slowed him down a considerable amount, but he was glad to take things at a casual pace, especially considering the way that Y/N almost broke their pencil as they scrawled out their thoughts for Spencer to hear later.

“Have you thought about the next one you’d like to try?” Spencer asked tentatively. He wasn’t so sure if Y/N would want to be interrupted.

Luckily for him, Y/N paused their stream of consciousness to look back at his books, “Hmm. So much to choose from.”

Stood up, their book left in Spencer’s care. They took a deep breath, closed their eyes and used their forefinger to draw a zigzag over the spines. Spencer felt that he was almost sick with joy.

Y/N stilled their wandering hand and opened their eyes, already drawing out the selected novel, “This one.”

“And what have you chosen for me next time?”

Y/N handed over The Butterfly Lion from their bag, “Ok, I can’t wait any longer, what do you think?”

They sat back on the couch. Their legs now hung over the arm of the couch, elbows either side and face cupped in their palms. The book rested in their lap. Shifting so that he faced them completely, Spencer returned to the first page and his analysis began.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #my writing

[romanianwilkinson]

MONSTER CAMP QUOTES STARTERS

A collection of sentence starters from the game Monster Camp. Feel free to change words and pronouns as desired. CONTENT WARNING(S) FOR: Monster Prom/Monster Camp spoilers, suggestive, cursing, crude content

“ I just have it here because [NAME] insisted that I offer it, as a marketing stunt. ”

“ And lastly, super-horny-type players no longer get a charm buff against tsundere types! ”

“ War machines don’t turn me on or anything! ”

“ I don’t wanna be weird, but do you mind if I climb inside of you and play around with your main turret? ”

“ A wine to DIE for, you say? Well, darling, don’t threaten me with a good time! ”

“ This one just says ‘ hmu with that reaper dick, daddy ’. ”

“ You on your phone, as always! Probably making blogposts on your Tik Tok page. ”

“ Yeah, you really don’t want to witness a repeat of the last time [NAME]’s diehard fans went without a selfie for fifteen minutes. My tailbone still hasn’t completely healed. ”

“ Now hold still, this will only hurt for a moment --- ”

“ Yay! You found a shenanigan! ”

“ My poems all have two or three emotions in them, AT LEAST. ”

“ CRYING IS OBVIOUSLY A COMPETITION TO SEE WHO CAN SQUEEZE THE MOST WATER OUT OF THEIR EYES! ”

“ No way, really? The way to WIN at poetry is by LOSING at life? ”

“ I dunno, maybe fall in love with someone who’s married and develop an opioid addiction? ”

“ HELL YEAH, SPEEDRUN! ”

“ It’s morbid, but... kind of romantic? ”

“ GASP! Google+? Are you kidding me? The psychopaths behind that global tragedy are here?! ”

“ Prison has changed me, [NAME]. Would you like to trade me some cigarettes in exchange for my fundamental dignity? ”

“ Undermining the laws of reality, subverting life and death, that’s the kind of stuff my followers expect. But CHEATING? No way. ”

“ Though we are imprisoned in chalk jail, we are free in our hearts. But our hearts are also imprisoned in chalk jail. ”

“ Um, no, I am NOT groveling. I am posing a dignified query to [NAME] that just so happens to be performed on my hands and knees. ”

“ I didn’t know you condoned playing the friend card to get free labor, [NAME]. ”

“ Ah, but saving the world doesn’t put avocado toast on the table. We indie seancers and necromancers need to pay our rent too, you know. ”

“ And as you know, I am illustriously Internet-famous, so if you could shower me with adoration and give me the pizza that would be fabulous. ”

“ Do you wanna fuck the pizza or not? ”

“ Are you ready to go swimming? I must admit, darling, I’ve always wondered what you would look like while... wet.”

“ Did you turn this date into an orgy without consulting me? ”

“ Gosh, I love it when you insult me! Please do it more! ”

“ Now who wants to make a baby? ”

“ What if she puts a curse on me that makes me magically forget the location of the clitoris?! ”

“ Hey, don’t knock wacky decisions that endanger us all! That’s how I always manage to stay a step ahead of my nemeses! ”

“ Oh gods, I’ve killed so many monsters, just for being monsters. This is making me question my entire moral foundation. I NEED MORE THERAPY. ”

“ I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: fish give better pedicures than people! ”

“ You’re not tricking me into parenting a stupid egg. I’ve never fucked even ONE chicken! The egg is not my son! ”

“ You came to visit me at camp, Daddy! ”

“ Don’t be ridiculous, I know your brand of horny, [NAME], and this ain’t it. ”

“ I thought we both agreed to be nothing but vague and haughtily aloof about our past dalliances. ”

“ Point EAST, compass! EAAAAAAAAST! You dumb fuckboot!!!! POINT! EAST! ”

“ One time I was told a soul’s worst fear was bugs and I inadvertantly sent The Beatles. It happens to the best of us... And the worst of us. ”

“ SOMEDAY I SHALL DEFEAT YOUR FIVE STRANGE FEET! ”

“ Why do you keep suppressing your monster half? Embrace your true nature! ”

“ Wow. I didn't think this was possible, but I guess I was... wrong? About social media? Oh dear God, is this how grandparents feel?!?! Am I a GRANDPARENT?! ”

“ I don’t know! I was relying on my friends to cover up my bold and idiotic statement! ”

“ ... I ate the oars. ”

“ PSYCHE. The ocean can eat my ass. ”

“ So pucker up, [NAME]! I'm about to declare mouth war on your FACE! ”

“ YOU FOOLISHLY FOOLISH FOOL! You're showing our inexperience! YOUR HONOR, THE ENTIRE LEGAL TEAM PLEADS THE FIFTH! ”

“ That's right. I'm talking about a classic Transylvania Hot Tub, a Seth Brundle, and a REVERSE Reverse Romanian Wilkinson. ”

“ Sorry, I was in your ribcage seeing if I could use it to cut strips of crepe paper into confetti and then I got lost in your kidneys. ”

“ There's nothing sexier than a doomed romance between a dating sim player and a hot fictional character. ”

“ That's right! I secretly replaced one of you with a bear while no one was looking, to teach you a valuable lesson about the art of disguise! ”

“ Enchant my armor. I’m going into the lake. ”

“ For VIOLENCE REASONS! ” 

“ This stupid lake monster called me short the other day, but I was too low level to crush him like he deserved. ”

“ That dumb wet dinkhole won't know what hit him! But it will be me! I will hit him! ”

“ No, YOU'RE a fuckshark! Also, what does that even mean?! ”

“ You seriously didn't notice the enormous needles those interns jabbed into your veins as soon as [NAME] got here? “

“ It all makes sense! The Camp Dome is just an elaborate ploy to distract us from the giant mouth that eats campers! “

“ This is the BEST show I've ever seen in my life, which is now at an end! “

“ Am I high, or did he just tell us EXACTLY how to foil his evil scheme? “

“ What, like a few severed heads and visions of my grandpa screaming in horrendous pain are gonna freak me out? Where I'm from, you can buy that stuff at IKEA. “

“ ERROR: Due to the sixth mass extinction, the slaying of leprechauns is inadvisable. “

“ Then why do I have half-finished scarves, decoupage, pot-holders, friendship bracelets, and a taxidermied rabbit in my skeleton? “

“ The wang elemental. ”

“ I also have an uncle who works at Nintendo as a copy machine! “

“ What flavor of ice cream AM I?! Now I gotta know. HA! You know what I should be? 'Pistachio.' Because my outside is HARD, but I'm full of NUT. “

“ I mean, life is a bit like... this sandwich! No, stay with me, I'm going somewhere good with this. “

“ A survival situation without any sexy fun time isn't worth surviving in the first place. “

“ Rut the RUCK?! ”

“ The ' ambulance of the heart ' is just a regular ambulance! Ambulances treat all organs! ”

“ Yeah, that's why I made sure that my so-called ' emotional armor ' was also ' actual armor '. “

“ And being yourself is the key to living your dreams, which is the key to self actualization, which is the key to being really good at sex! “

“ So hot I'd buy that even without free shipping. 10/10, call me some time. “

“ Hi, quick question: does it count as kidnapping if I'm abducting you so you can help me do a thing you already agreed to help with? “

“ I could be wrong, but are you just upset because you DON'T have a skeleton that's inside your body? “

“ I'm gonna get SO FUCKING RELAXED MY HEAD WILL EXPLODE! “

“ Whoah, whoa, hold up. You're fucking my grandma? “

“ No, [NAME], that is a popcorn bag full of more dynamite. Put it down. “

“ I hear that at least 70% of people on Patreon aren't murderers! “

“ If you want cash, just rob banks like the rest of us! “

“ Did it work? Do you feel any less horny? ”

“ FUCK YEAH, LET'S PUNCH THAT MOUTH IN ITS MOUTH! “

“ Yes... incidentally, we are no longer allowed to enter Italy. “

“ Is anyone else turned on right now? ”

“ Yes! Yes! I know what you're feeling! I suddenly see how marrying a corpse isn't okay! “

“ JUST LET ME IMPROVE YOUR SELF ESTEEM, MORTAL! “

“ Look, choose whatever you want, but I'm not responsible for whatever you put in your mouth. ”

#rp starters #rp sentence starters #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #rp meme #ask meme #rp ask meme #monster prom #monster camp #monster prom rp #monster prom roleplay #monster camp rp #monster camp roleplay #mine

[nevermindirah]

part 3, "Kid": How every character in The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood relates to the main character, Nile Freeman

Stop writing people calling Nile "kid" 2k4ever

Andy calls Nile a baby one time, minutes after first dreaming of her. Andy then calls Nile "kid" three times, all to her face, all in the first few hours of their acquaintance. Booker calls Nile "kid" once, on the porch outside the bar. That's it. The context for these lines is super interesting, and calling Nile "kid" in fic doesn’t make any sense without the original context.

When Andy, Joe, Nicky, and Booker wake up from first dreaming of Nile, Joe and Nicky immediately start sharing facts they noticed, and Joe starts sketching. Booker is in his feelings but he contributes a few things to the saying-facts-out-loud rally.

Andy is 100% in her feelings. She starts the conversation with "No, not another one." Then once the boys have gathered a bunch of facts and Booker says "I felt her die" Andy comes in with this:

Andy: [stares at nothing straight ahead, voice is remote, detached.] She’s a Marine. [Joe and Nicky look up together.] Combat. Or near combat duty. Afghanistan. [Shakes her head slowly, wearily.] It’s been over two hundred years. [Whispers, anguished, buries head in hands.] Why now?

Got it. Joe and Nicky are the competent soldiers, Booker is the semi-competent drunk, Andy is the boss. Andy is the fucking depressed boss. It's in this context that Andy, having analyzed the information her direct reports just gave her, made the determination that Nile is a Marine in Afghanistan, and let her team have a brief back-and-forth about whether to change their plan to go retrieve the new one before announcing the decision that is ultimately hers to make, refers to Nile as a baby.

Andy: Get to France. Use the Charlie safe house. I’ll meet you there. [Joe examines his sketch, blows pencil-dust off it. She stares at Booker.] Find Copley. [Joe tears out the page and hands her the sketch. Andy stares at it.] Jesus. She’s just a baby.

Andy's metric fuckton of I AM BEYOND DONE just leaps off the page/screen. Keep that existential exhaustion in mind as we see her early interactions with Nile.

Nile: [stands, panting, regards Andy suspiciously.] Who are you? Andy: I lead a group of immortals. An army, I guess. Soldiers. Fighters like you. [softer tone.] Look... [Andy steps toward her; Nile steps back.] You’ve got questions, kid. I get it. [tiny smile, small nod.] You want answers? Get back in the car.

Andy: [lightly] And I was the one who cut your throat. Right? [stares at Nile, who stares back, then looks away; she has no answer for that.] Listen, kid. You already believe in... [points upward, follows it with her eyes.] You should just keep following that illogic. [Pulls her jacket over her shoulders as a blanket, turns on her right side, back to Nile, lies on the pile of duffel-bags like a reclining chair.] You’re already on board with the supernatural. [Speaks with eyes already closed; it makes no difference to her.] If I were you, I’d get some sleep.

[Nile stands slowly, glaring at Andy, sets her body as she prepares to continue the fight.] Andy: You really want to do this, kid? [Andy’s eyes are bright, her expression relaxed but anticipating; she looks like she thinks this will be fun.]

Andy is looking at this retrieval mission as something that must be done, but quickly and with as little disruption as possible to her team's ongoing mission to find Copley and protect themselves from exposure. And then here comes Nile Freeman, competent as hell, taking no shit, questioning everything, stabbing her and escaping a moving vehicle and just fucking fighting her at every turn.

"Jfc kid will you just get in the goddamn car" feels pretty reasonable in that context, yeah? At least from Andy's perspective. From Nile's, you're fucking right you're gonna ask some goddamn questions before getting on a drug-smuggling plane with someone who just shot you in the head.

It's worth noting that Andy doesn't precisely say "jfc kid will you just get in the goddamn car" — she says "I need you to get back in the car please." She says "can you please not do that again" when Nile fucking stabs her. She's exhausted and frustrated and just trying to get through this and back to her main mission, and from what we see of her so far she's generally gruff as a person, but she's not an asshole, and she’s really showing Nile some respect here, all things considered. I mean, imagine being this polite when someone stabs you. This is a tired adult trying to get another tired adult on board with a sensible plan.

Andy: Argh! [Andy grabs Nile’s knife hand.] Fuck! [throws it violently aside, forcing Nile back a step. With the knife still in her, Andy sighs deeply and looks at Nile. Nile recovers her balance and stares that Andy is hardly reacting to having a knife in her.] Can you please [grabs the knife with left hand, yanks it out] not do that again? [throws the knife on the ground.]

Once they fight on the plane, Andy never calls her kid again. Andy is already starting to regain some of the energy her long life has worn away from her after just 10 minutes on screen with Nile. Andy went into this retrieval determined to be someone Nile can rely on, and that still stands, but by the time they’re in France she’s realizing she’ll come to be able to rely on Nile too. She introduces her to the boys as Nile and that's that.

The only other time we hear the word "kid" in the entire movie is near the end, outside the bar with Booker.

Nile: Yeah. [takes a breath.] Talked to Copley. Said he could fix it. Make it look like I was killed in action. [nods gently to herself] My family will mourn, but, uh... [tiny shrug, head-shake.] ...they’ll be able to move on. It’s just like what we did with my dad. [sighs. Turns to look out over the water. Voice wavers.] I just really want to hear my mom’s voice one more time. Booker: [looks down, pauses, turns to lean next to Nile.] You’re a good kid, Nile. [looks at her, speaks earnestly.] You’re gonna be great for the team.

Sébastien le Livre, whose greatest tragedy is that his children disbelieved and rejected his love for them, would be very moved by Nile's concern and love for her mother. "You're a good kid, Nile," in the sense that she's honoring her parent in a way he, a bereaved parent, appreciates.

There's also the fun shippy reading that he's preemptively friend-zoning her because there's about to be several lifetimes between him and spending any more time with this woman he was having an obvious "oh no she's hot" reaction to over dinner in Goussainville, but I, a feral BoN shipper, like the first reading even better.

But the point is, calling Nile "kid" is an element of the movie that says a lot about the characters using that word. When it gets repeated in fanfiction, it says something about the author.

If you're reading this and reflecting "oh shit I wrote the team calling Nile kid without thinking about it at all beneath the surface" I have a really cool suggestion for you: just edit it. Or at least consider not doing it again. We all make mistakes. We all run with things that we pick up in canon or see in other people's fic that seem funny and harmless, and once we think about those things more deeply we might find that actually it's kinda fucked up, or not what canon was trying to say, or fine on the surface but not fine if it becomes The One True Fanon. Having characters who are either white, men, or both call the adult protagonist who's a young Black woman "kid" all the time carries a weight to it. Please let's let that weight fall off Nile's fully-grown shoulders.

Next up, orders, suggestions, assistance, and other flavors of mentoring Nile and/or telling her what to do. Credit and appreciation to StarWatcher for transcribing the movie here on AO3, all my line quotes are pulled from there.

#nile freeman #andromache the scythian #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #sebastien le livre #book of nile #dirah discusses tog team dynamics #tog meta #tog #mine #userhayls

[amuelia]

How do you think Roose will meet his demise? Or will he survive? What's your best Roose end game predictions?

Thank you for the question! This will be a long post under the readmore, going into my thoughts on the show ending and exploring what the books may have set up in regards to themes and characterization, as well as a bit of general analysis of Roose' story arc in a Dance with Dragons (and some speculation about Ramsay as well).

If you click on the readmore i will have divided the post into sections with bolded Headers, if you want to only read my specific endgame ideas you can skip ahead to the "His Endgame?" section.

In The Show

The show had him get killed by Ramsay in s6, which informs a lot of the fandom speculation about this storyline.

I am not a fan of the show's scenario as it was both similar to tywin and tyrion as well as a mirror of robb's death; it would also be offscreen in the books since neither of the characters are PoVs and Ramsay would need to do the act in secret. This would ultimately undercut Roose' role and impact, being a death scene that is not very unique and also isn't shown to the reader directly. Since no PoV is even in Winterfell currently, we would just hear of it from afar and not witness the consequences.

The show also has a different dynamic in the Bolton storyline, emphasizing Ramsay as the "main character" of this arc, and elevating him to the main villain for s5-6 to fill Joffrey's shoes as an evil character played by a very charismatic actor. Ramsay's show writing is informed by the needs of a TV setting that wants shocking moments and capitalizes on "fan favourite" actors; his rising importance in the show thus is not necessarily an indicator of his book importance. The show was also missing many central characters like the northern lords and the Frey men in Winterfell.

The show had a tendency to kill off characters early when they wanted to cull storylines or had no plans to adapt more of the character's story (like Stannis, Barristan, possibly the Tyrells...); In Mance Rayder we have the most obvious example, where they killed him off for real in a scene that in the book was a misdirection. We also have characters like Jorah where it appears the showrunners had their own choice of how they want his storyline to end, even if Grrm has his own ending in mind.

"For a long time we wanted Ser Jorah to be there at The Wall in the end," writer Dave Hill says. "The three coming out of the tunnel would be Jon and Jorah and Tormund. But [...] Jorah should have the noble death he craves defending the woman he loves." - Dave Hill for Entertainment Weekly

So a death in the show does not need to be an indicator that the books will feature an equivalent scene, even if it gives a hint as to what may happen. By s5 the show has become its own beast, and the butterfly effects from radical changes they made as well as the different characterizations results in the show having to cater to its own needs in many cases when it gets to resolving a plotline.

"We reconceived the role to make it worthy of the actor's talents." - Benioff and Weiss for the s5 DVD commentary, on Indira Varma's casting as Ellaria

In The Books

(Since this post was getting out of hand in length a lot of these arguments are a little shortened/not as in-depth as i'd like! Feel free to inquire more via ask if something is unclear or you disagree)

In the books i find it hard to make a concrete guess as to how it will end. Occam's razor would be to assume the show sort of got it right and that it will vaguely end the same, which could very well happen and i will not discount the possibility; Ramsay is cruel, desires the Dreadfort rule, and is a suspected kinslayer and has no qualms to commit immoral violence.

"Ramsay killed [his brother]. A sickness of the bowels, Maester Uthor says, but I say poison." - Reek III, aDwD

Reek saw the way Ramsay's mouth twisted, the spittle glistening between his lips. He feared he might leap the table with his dagger in his hand [to attack his father]. - Reek III, aDwD

Arguments against this or for a different endgame come down to interpretations of the themes in the story arc and opinions on dramatic structure/grrm's writing, and are thus very subjective.

The way the story currently is going, Ramsay killing Roose treats Roose almost as a plot device; his death brings no change or development to Ramsay's character as we already know his motivations and cruelty align with such an act, and we can assume that he would feel no remorse about it either. The results of such a scene would be firmly on a story level, as it brings political changes and moves the plot along into a specific direction. Roose himself cannot have any relevant character development about it as he does not have a PoV and we would not be able to witness his reaction from the outside.

“The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself.” - William Faulkner, often quoted by Grrm

Further, killing his father is very difficult to pull off in secret (Roose is frequently described as very cautious, and employs many guardsmen). And even if Ramsay pulls it off (people often interpret Ramsay as Roose' blind spot, assuming he might be caught by surprise, not expecting Ramsay would bite the hand that feeds him), Roose is the one that holds his entire alliance together; The Freys would be alienated by Ramsay who would antagonize Walda and her son as his rivals, The Ryswell bloc appears to dislike Ramsay (especially Barbrey), and the other northmen are implied to not even like Roose himself. Killing Roose would quickly combust the entire northern faction, and hinder Ramsay's further plans (another reason why I am not convinced of a book version of the "Battle of Bastards"). Though this might of course, if we look at it from the other side, be grrm's plan to quickly dissolve this plot and move the northern story forwards.

"Ramsay will kill [Walda's children], of course. [...] [She] will grieve to see them die, though." - Reek III, aDwD

"How many of our grudging friends do you imagine we'd retain if the truth were known? Only Lady Barbrey, whom you would turn into a pair of boots … inferior boots." - Reek III, aDwD

"Fear is what keeps a man alive in this world of treachery and deceit. Even here in Barrowton the crows are circling, waiting to feast upon our flesh. The Cerwyns and the Tallharts are not to be relied on, my fat friend Lord Wyman plots betrayal, and Whoresbane … the Umbers may seem simple, but they are not without a certain low cunning. Ramsay should fear them all, as I do." - Reek III, aDwD

Roose' death at Ramsay's hand also removes him thematically from the Red Wedding, as we can assume such a death might have happened regardless of his participation in the event (seeing as Ramsay is getting provoked by Roose constantly in normal dialogue, and has a general violent disposition). Roose already took Ramsay in before aGoT started, and married Walda very early in the war, which is already most of the buildup that the show's scenario had. It also has little to do with the The North Remembers plot except set dressing, since the northmen are presumably neither collaborating with/egging on Ramsay nor would they appreciate the development.

Themes: Ned Stark and the rule over the North

Roose is treated as a foil to Eddard; They are often contrasted in morals and ruling styles, while also having many superficial similarities that further connect them (they are seen as cold by people, grey eyed, patriarchs of rivalling northern houses, etc...).

Pale as morning mist, his eyes concealed more than they told. Jaime misliked those eyes. They reminded him of the day at King's Landing when Ned Stark had found him seated on the Iron Throne. - Jaime IV, aSoS

They both have a "bastard son" that they handle very differently; Roose treating Ramsay in the way that is seen as common in their society. Ramsay and Jon as a comparison are meant to show that Catelyn had a reason to see a bastard as a threat (since Domeric was antagonized by his bastard brother), but also shows that her suggested plan for Jon would not have stopped any danger either (as Ramsay being raised away from the castle didn't help).

And if his seed quickened, she expected he would see to the child's needs. He did more than that. The Starks were not like other men. Ned brought his bastard home with him, and called him "son" for all the north to see. - Catelyn II, aGoT

"Each year I sent the woman some piglets and chickens and a bag of stars, on the understanding that she was never to tell the boy who had fathered him. A peaceful land, a quiet people, that has always been my rule." - Reek III, aDwD

It appears to me that Roose' story functions in some ways as an inversion to Ned. He makes an attempt to grab a power he was not destined to (becoming warden of the north), where Ned did not want the responsiblity thrust upon him ("It was all meant for Brandon. [...] I never asked for this cup to pass to me." - Cat II, aGoT). Where Ned rules successfully and his northmen honor his legacy ("What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl." - The Turncloak, aDwD), the Boltons are largely hated and there are several plots conspiring against them ("Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die." - The King's Prize, aDwD).

It seems possible to me that in terms of their family and legacy, Roose might also live through an inverted version of Ned's story; where Ned died first, leaving his family behind, Roose already lived to see the death of his wives and trueborn heir, and might thus also live to see Ramsay's death. Ned leaves behind well raised children and a North who still respects his name, and even though he dies it will presumably all be "in good hands" in the end (in broad strokes, obviously this is all much more morally complex). Roose however built up a bad and toxic legacy, and also built his way of life around evading consequences; it makes sense to me that he would be forced by the story to finally endure all the consequences of his actions and witness the fall of his house firsthand. After all we already have Tywin who fulfils the purpose of dying before his children while his legacy falls to ruins, and a Feast for Crows explores this aspect thoroughly.

Roose' arc in A Dance With Dragons

The story repeatedly builds up the situation unravelling around Roose, and him slowly losing a grip on it and becoming more stressed and anxious.

Reek wondered if Roose Bolton ever cried. If so, do the tears feel cold upon his cheeks? - Reek II, aDwD

Roose Bolton said nothing at all. But Theon Greyjoy saw a look in his pale eyes that he had never seen before—an uneasiness, even a hint of fear. [...] That night the new stable collapsed beneath the weight of the snow that had buried it. - a Ghost in Winterfell, aDwD

Lady Walda gave a shriek and clutched at her lord husband's arm. "Stop," Roose Bolton shouted. "Stop this madness." His own men rushed forward as the Manderlys vaulted over the benches to get at the Freys. - Theon I, aDwD

It also directly presents him as a parallel to Theon's rule in aCoK, who similarly experienced a very unpopular rule and his subjects slowly turning against him. Presumably, the point of this comparison will not just be "Ramsay comes in at the end and unexpectedly whacks them on the head". Both Theon and Roose invited Ramsay into their lives, giving him more power than he deserves, and causing Ramsay to make choices that increasingly alienate others from them (the death of the miller's boys for example has repercussions for both Theon and Roose). Grrm is likely steering this towards a difference in how they will deal with this situation.

It all seemed so familiar, like a mummer show that he had seen before. Only the mummers had changed. Roose Bolton was playing the part that Theon had played the last time round, and the dead men were playing the parts of Aggar, Gynir Rednose, and Gelmarr the Grim. Reek was there too, he remembered, but he was a different Reek, a Reek with bloody hands and lies dripping from his lips, sweet as honey. - a Ghost in Winterfell, aDwD

"Stark's little wolflings are dead," said Ramsay, sloshing some more ale into his cup, "and they'll stay dead. Let them show their ugly faces, and my girls will rip those wolves of theirs to pieces. The sooner they turn up, the sooner I kill them again." - The elder Bolton sighed. "Again? Surely you misspeak. You never slew Lord Eddard's sons, those two sweet boys we loved so well. That was Theon Turncloak's work, remember? How many of our grudging friends do you imagine we'd retain if the truth were known?" - Reek III, aDwD

Roose' arc is deeply connected to the relations he shares to the other northern lords, which has been heavily impacted by the Red Wedding. It stands to reason that they are going to be an important part of his downfall, and we see many hints of them plotting to betray him.

The north remembers, Lord Davos. The north remembers, and the mummer's farce is almost done. My son is home." - Davos IV, aDwD

Themes: Stannis and kinslaying

The books set up Roose and Stannis as foils as well; Both lack charisma and have trouble winnning the people's support, Stannis and Roose both parallel and contrast Ned, Stannis appears as a "lesser Robert" where Roose is a "lesser Ned", Stannis represents the fire where Roose represents the ice, both struggle over dominion in a land that doesnt particularly want either of them, etc... What i find interesting is how they are contrasted over kinslaying:

"Only Renly could vex me so with a piece of fruit. He brought his doom on himself with his treason, but I did love him, Davos. I know that now. I swear, I will go to my grave thinking of my brother's peach." - Davos II, aCoK

"I should've had the mother whipped and thrown her child down a well … but the babe did have my eyes." [...] "Now [Domeric's] bones lie beneath the Dreadfort with the bones of his brothers, who died still in the cradle, and I am left with Ramsay. Tell me, my lord … if the kinslayer is accursed, what is a father to do when one son slays another?" - Reek III, aCoK

Stannis is set up as someone who is very thorough and strict in following his own code and his "duty", even if he does not like what it forces him to do.

Stannis ground his teeth again. "I never asked for this crown. Gold is cold and heavy on the head, but so long as I am the king, I have a duty . . . If I must sacrifice one child to the flames to save a million from the dark . . . Sacrifice . . . is never easy, Davos. Or it is no true sacrifice. Tell him, my lady." - Davos IV, aSoS

The armorer considered that a moment. "Robert was the true steel. Stannis is pure iron, black and hard and strong, yes, but brittle, the way iron gets. He'll break before he bends." - Jon I, aCoK

Roose however is frequently characterized as someone who tries to get as much as he can while avoiding negative consequences, and who does not have a consistent moral code and instead bends rules to his benefit to be the most comfortable to him.

It is often theorized that Stannis will end up burning his daughter Shireen; the Ramsay issue might then serve to contrast the two men. If Grrm intends it to be compared by the reader, I can see it going two ways: Either Roose will be forced to finally act in a drastic way after avoiding his responsibility in regards to Ramsay and he will be forced to get rid of his son, making him break the only moral hurdle he has presented adhering to during the story (though analyzing his character, the kinslaying taboo is probably less a sign of moral fortitude and more him using the guise of morals to explain a selfish motivation). Or he might not act against Ramsay and suffer the consequences, presenting an interesting moral situation where some readers might consider his action "better" or more relatable than Stannis', breaking up the otherwise very black and white moral comparison between the two men. It serves as an interesting conflict of the morality of kinslaying compared to what readers might see as a moral obligation of getting rid of a monster such as Ramsay; contrasting Shireen whose death would not be seen as worth it by most. Ramsay as a bastard (who was almost killed at birth if he hadnt been able to prove his paternity) also makes for an interesting verbal parallel with the bastard Edric Storm, and might be used for a look at the utilitarian principle of killing a child (baby ramsay/edric) to save countless people from suffering that underpinned Edric's story.

"As Faulkner says, all of us have the capacity in us for great good and for great evil, for love but also for hate. I wanted to write those kinds of complex character in a fantasy, and not just have all the good people get together to fight the bad guy." - Grrm

"Robert, I ask you, what did we rise against Aerys Targaryen for, if not to put an end to the murder of children?" - Eddard VIII, aGoT

"If Joffrey should die . . . what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?" - "Everything," said Davos, softly. - Davos V, aSoS

However Grrm decides to present these conflicts or which actions the characters will take in the end, it will result in interesting discussion and analysis for the readers.

His Endgame?

Looking at the trends of the past books, it is probably going to be hard to predict any specific outcome; every book introduces new characters and plot elements that were impossible to predict from the last book even if their thematic importance or setup was aptly foreshadowed.

Roose has a lot of plot importance and characterization that has, in my opinion, not yet been properly resolved in a way that would be unique and poignant to the specific purpose his character appears to fulfil. However I also have a bias in that i did not like the show's writing of that scene which makes me averse to see a version of it in the books, and i really like Roose as a character and want to see him have more scenes in the next book(s). This leads me to discount plot speculation that cuts his character arc short offscreen early. Roose is only a side character; however, i have trust in grrm's writing abilities and that he would give him a proper sendoff that feels satisfying to a fan of the character.

"…even the [characters] who are complete bastards, nasty, twisted, deeply flawed human beings with serious psychological problems… When I get inside their skin and look out through their eyes, I have to feel a certain — if not sympathy, certainly empathy for them. I have to try to perceive the world as they do, and that creates a certain amount of affection." — George Martin

Considering my earlier analyis, there is a case to be made for Roose killing Ramsay; however it appears grrm might have a different endgame in mind for Ramsay, foreshadowed in Chett's prologue:

There'd be no lord's life for the leechman's son, no keep to call his own, no wives nor crowns. Only a wildling's sword in his belly, and then an unmarked grave. The snow's taken it all from me . . . the bloody snow . . . - Chett, aSoS

I tend to think something might happen to Roose/the Bolton bloc later in the book that would cause Ramsay to attempt to flee the scene again like he did back in aCoK fleeing Rodrik's justice; perhaps Ramsay is sent out to battle but then flees it like a coward, or he sees his cause as lost. This time, the fleeing and potentially disguised Ramsay would not make it out to safety though, and get killed without being recognized as Ramsay, dying forgotten. This would serve as dramatic irony since Ramsay so strongly desired to be recognized and respected as a Lord of Bolton, without being too on the nose.

As for Roose, i could see him getting captured and somehow brought to justice (either when someone takes Winterfell or in some sort of battle). I see it unlikely that he will be backstabbed like Robb was, because it seems very "eye for an eye" and ultimately doesn't teach much of a lesson except "he had it coming"; But the various people conspiring against him could lead to his capture by betraying him (giving a payoff to the northern conspiracies and the red wedding). I would find a scene of him standing trial interesting since i believe we didn't have one of these for a true non-pov villain yet, and it would be an interesting confrontation that he cannot escape from (he also loves to talk so it would be a good read to see him make a case for himself).

I assume Roose will be out of the picture when the Other plot finally properly kicks into gear (whether dead or "in prison"). With Stannis as a false Azor Ahai and Roose as a false Other (with his pale, cold features), their struggle in the north seems to be a representation of the false "Game of Thrones" that distracts people from the "real threat" of the Others.

As always this is just my opinion, and it could all go very differently in the books! There could always be something that completely uproots my analysis and goes into a direction i did not expect from the material we had; But i have fate that Grrm as a writer will deliver and give me something i can be satisfied with.

#asks #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #roose bolton #valyrianscrolls #a song of ice and fire #not art #anonymous

[rosemary-writes]

I can’t, I’m so sorry

(David x Female!Reader)

AN: this story is basically me just ranting about my experience over the past two weeks. It’s very hard going through the grief process and I wanted to share my experience through my writing. This story is kind of a self insert but I still like it

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, losing a loved one, grief, mourning, crying, unhealthy habits, recollection of memories, soft!David, maybe out of character David, general sadness, mentions of a cemetery, vampire powers.

Word count: 3.8k

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO ANY OF THE ABOVE WARNINGS

“I like to pretend that you ran away, that you’re living on an island and have a garden and a dog and that your brothers drop by to bring you groceries and books and that you are very happy and free.” - S.C. Pacheco

It happened so quickly. No one saw it coming, but then again, does anyone ever really see death coming?

You were preparing for finals. It was the last two weeks of your first year at college and you had been studying non stop. You were going to end this year with a bang and have a great extended summer without worry in your head.

Then, the phone call happened. It was so unexpected. Dad called and asked if you were alone. Thankfully, your psychology class was on a five minute break and you were out in the hallway. Dad immediately said that he didn’t know how to break it to you gently so he was just going to say it. Following his statement, he told you how your great grandmother had a stroke and she had about a day to a month to live. The hallway stood still and the chatter of classrooms ceased into nothing.

Tears had welled up in your eyes and began to flow down your face. Nothing stopped them as your dad kept telling you about everything that happened. Your grandparents, uncles, aunts, and even your mom went to the hospital to see her. It was a two hour drive. Your dad had said that your mother was going to bring you home when all of your classes were done, for the day, so you could be in an area of comfort. The only reason he said that was because the history of your mental health wasn't the best at all. The previous two weeks were spent being in bed because the stress of school began to weigh heavily in your chest.

The weight in your chest had lessened over the past few days but the news of your great grandmother brought it back. Your face was red as the tears kept flowing from your eyes. Dad said he loved you before letting you hang up. Your whimpers and scattered breathing echoed in the hallway. Hot tears dripped from your chin and onto your sweater as you ran into the bathroom. Thankfully it was empty and you were able to let out your cries. The yellow lights flickered as you fell to your knees. She was your only great grandmother and she loved you greatly. Everyone told you that you were special because you were her eldest great granddaughter. The passing quote in your head practically made you scream out in confusion and upset.

Many minutes passed before your psychology teacher burst into the bathroom. She found you on the floor, face wet with tears. Immediately she came to your side and began shushing you while wrapping her arms around you. The only words you could cry out were “She’s dying and I’m not there.” After that, the day fuzzed into nothing. Your close friend had to come and get you for your other classes. She told your teachers how you were leaving early in the week because your great grandmother was dying. Thankfully, your teachers understood and gave you extensions on every assignment that was late.

Later in the evening, your mother came to get you. The car ride was very quiet and so was the weekend. It was spent with you occasionally crying while listening to your family plan her funeral. It was also spent with you remembering your childhood in her house.

The smells and sounds lingered in your mind constantly. Sometimes you’d hear the ghost of her grandfather clock when you couldn’t sleep.

Sadly, you couldn’t sleep most days. A week came and went and you were in the start of your finals week. It was three days filled with exams. Tuesday was the first day of exams. Thankfully, there was only one exam. When class was over, your teacher asked to speak with you. She gave you an enormous hug and told you that you passed her class. With tears forming in your eyes she told you that your great grandmother would be very proud. After that, she wished you the best in life and you went back to your dorm with your close friend.

As if on cue, your phone rang. When you picked it up you immediately could tell it was your dad. He told you that your great grandmother passed in her sleep early that morning. You knew this news was coming but no amount of preparation could prepare you to hear that. Tears fell from your eyes as he told you to get through the next few days before moving out and coming home. You both said, “I love you.” before hanging up.

Later that night, you cried until the sun gently arose over the tall evergreen trees. The next few days were spent in a daze. Your friends comforted you and told you that they’d always be there for you as you cried and wanted to go home. You took your exams and packed up your room and left the college. You were so happy to leave with your mother and go home for the summer. However, the shadow of grief clung to your skirt the entire time, even as the evening turned into night and then stretched into morning.

With sad eyes, you had looked into the mirror as you applied your makeup and got dressed for her funeral. The dress you wore was long sleeved and it just about touched the ground. You sighed. It was going to be a long drive through the flat farmland to get to the town of your childhood. When your family got to the old cemetery, your father told you that it was a beautiful day for her to be laid to rest.

And it was. It really was. The sun was shining, there were no clouds, and the gentle breeze turned your warm tears cold. Birds and butterflies fluttered around the graves and danced with each other. Even as the priest recited the carefully picked words, you thought of how it was a beautiful day. When he was done speaking, your mother held you as you cried. She let go when she began to cry uncontrollably. Your younger cousins came to your side and wept with you as you walked amongst your sleeping ancestors and extended family.

At the end of the funeral, you tearfully kissed her headstone goodbye and whispered to your great grandfather that you know they're happy now, laying side by side. When you got into the car to go back to Santa Carla, you cried until you dozed off under the warm afternoon sun.

Before you had left for the whole ordeal, you called David and told him about everything that had happened. He knew that your great grandmother had a stroke and that your whole family was stricken with grief. He also knew that you had never experienced grief or the process of mourning. So, he made a promise that when you came back he would stay by your side. You gave a huff into the payphone as he told you that he would do anything to ease the process. Before hanging up, you asked if it would be okay if you could stay at the cave for a couple of days. He told you yes and that he loved you before hanging up.

When your family finally got back to the house, you immediately fled to your room. Your parents didn’t want to bother you so they left you alone. They didn’t know that you were going to spend a few days at the cave. Infact, they didn’t know you were dating David. Your parents just thought he was a college friend.

Grabbing a bag, you began shoving clothes into it. You grabbed a few necessities and put those in there as well. When you figured you had everything, you heard David's bike outside. However, before you left, you noticed your great grandmother's ring on your dresser. It was given to you on your sixteenth birthday. It was an heirloom that was passed down from your great grandmother. When she first saw you wearing it, she had complimented how you reminded her of her younger self. While looking at the ring, your hand flew to the pearl choker that was resting around your neck. They were hers as well.

You grabbed the ring and slipped it on your ring finger before leaving. Your parents must’ve gone to bed because the house was dark and their bedroom door was shut. In the kitchen, you pulled out a notepad and wrote down that you were going to be with friends for a few days.

You left your house and noticed David was at the end of your driveway. He had a cigarette in his mouth and he was looking at your neighbors house.

“David.” you called gently. His head whipped towards you and a smirk appeared on his lips. His fingers came up and took the cigarette from his lips. When you walked to him, he gently pulled you close and gave you a quick kiss. When you pulled away, his hand came up to your cheek. You looked up at him in the moonlight and could see that his face was laced with concern as his eyes studied your face.

“Hop on kitten, let’s go to the cave.” he said, as his hand fell from your face. You got on behind him and when you wrapped your arms around him he began to drive through the night. Usually, you would be happy and laughing with David as he drove erratically to get you excited. He loved hearing you shout as he would go over hills but tonight was quiet. Of course he knew why. You were grieving and he wasn’t expecting you to do any of that. When you asked to stay at the cave, he was honestly surprised.

However, part of you felt like you needed to shout and laugh. You had mentally prepared for her death for a week and now it was hours after the funeral. Part of you begged to be left alone with your ever changing mind and the other part wanted to be with David in his arms as you two laughed and talked trash about the people of Santa Carla.

Instead, your face was resting against his back as he drove to the cave. The night was clear and the moon was bright. In the serenity of the night you closed your eyes. Your eyes were irritated at how much you had been crying and you hoped that tonight David wouldn’t see you cry. He had never seen you cry and you wanted to keep it that way. You always stayed happy and energetic around him. Sometimes you could hear David whisper that he loved your spark when he thought you were asleep. He didn’t know that your great grandmother repeated the same thing many years ago.

You sighed as you felt David’s bike slow to a stop. Opening your eyes, you saw that the both of you were at one of the entrances to the cave. He parked his bike next to the three others and turned it off. Carefully, you unwrapped your arms from him as he got off. As you got off, David offered his hand and you took it. When you stood next to him, hand in hand, he kissed your forehead. You smiled at the affection and he led you down into the cave.

“I know you won’t mind but, me and the guys are going to go feed when you get inside. I’ll change my clothes before coming back” David said, as he led you through the tunnel. You hummed and looked ahead at the gentle glowing light ahead. In the main area of the cave you could hear the noises of the other boys. David’s grip on your hand tightened as you came to the steep slope that led to the main area. The first time he brought you here, you slipped going down. You smiled at the cherished memory as you carefully walked down. Thankfully, this time you made it to the bottom.

“Hey David, hey Scoob” Marko said, looking up as you and David walked into the main area of the cave. You scoffed as David let go of your hand.

“How many times do I have to tell you to not call me that?” you asked, as David walked over towards the others. Marko gave you a teasing smile as Paul came from god knows where. Dwayne followed after him and the two joined the others.

“Anyways, I think you guys should get a move on. I can tell you’re antsy.” you said. David was breathing a bit more heavily than usual and you knew that was his body telling him to eat. Without word, the boys turned and walked away to one of the many exits. As the others ascended into the night, David turned to look at you. It was his way of saying goodbye but you also knew he was asking a question.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” you said, grabbing your bag. Without speaking, he too turned away and followed the others.

You sighed as you watched him leave. It wasn’t your first time alone in the cave. Sometimes, they would go out and feed while you slept and you’d wake up in an empty nest. But, right now, you needed to be alone to just breathe. So, you went down one of the hallways to your little sanctuary. Months ago, you found a little safe haven in the depths of the cave. It was your little room and it was filled with things you found and liked. As you walked down the dim path, you could see the curtains in the doorway. Carefully, when you stood in front of them, you pushed them aside and stepped into the little safe haven. It was dark, but thankfully you had candles in different places around the room. Setting your stuff down on the bed, you grabbed your lighter from your dress pocket. You carefully lit the candles and adjusted them to keep from scorching other objects.

When you were finished you plopped down onto the mattress that was covered in blankets and pillows. You didn’t know how long it had been since you last slept. The nights were spent with you crying until you couldn’t but by morning, you were ready to repeat the whole cycle.

It sucked. Grief wasn’t supposed to be like this. Many people told you that after a few days, everything would go back to normal. Well, you wanted the feeling to go away immediately. You hated this neverending feeling of sadness. It was like a child clinging to their mother’s skirt.

One of the worst parts of it all was the day going through your head. You couldn’t stop thinking about her funeral. Was this normal? To constantly think of the funeral? Was it also normal to cry so much? You just couldn’t understand the whole grief process at all.

Gently, you got up from the mattress and walked over to the old mirror that David found for you. The candles in the room gave your features a warm glow in the mirror. You looked at your face and how it changed. You looked different. The shadows under your eyes had darkened and your eyes looked irritated. Glancing down to the pearl choker, you felt your throat tighten. The words of the past week began to echo loudly in your head.

She wouldn’t want you to fuss over her.

Even the brightest stars have to dim.

She loved you. She loved you greatly.

Then the tears came. They came so fast that you were honestly scared by them. They fell down your face as a sob escaped your mouth.

It wasn’t fair. None of it was. The pain in your body felt amplified as you sank to the floor. The worst part of it all was you couldn’t stop thinking of her. The way she kissed your cheeks when she saw you and when you left. The way her hands gently ran through your hair as you slept in her lap as a child. How she would sneakily give you chocolates after Christmas dinner and not tell anyone. Her mischievous smile flashed in your mind and it only made you cry harder. Why, why, why? Why did she have to die?

______

From the entrance of the cave, David stood still. Your sadness had reverberated through the cave like a loud radio. He couldn’t hear you but he felt the grief. Slowly, he walked to your room. He had forgotten how grief felt. It was a horrible feeling that he never wanted to experience again. However, he wanted to comfort you the best he could. As he got closer to your room, he could hear you. He heard the rapid beating of your heart as you let your emotions out. When he stood in front of the curtain, he hesitated. Would you want him in there?

David brushed the thought aside as he remembered that it was your first time with grief. He could practically smell the confusion and anger from your tears. Quickly, he opened the curtains and stepped into your room. On the farthest side of the room, you were leaning against the wall as you were trying to catch your breath. Your face was red and wet with tears. The eyeliner you wore was smudged around your eyes and David could see where it had trailed.

When you had calmed down just a little, David cleared his throat. Immediately, you turned around and met his still face. He held no emotion as he looked at your tragic form.

“Get out.” you said, quickly wiping your face. David did not move from his spot. Instead, he walked towards you.

“David, get out! I don’t want you to see me like this!” You yelled, as you turned away to shield yourself from him. He said nothing as he came behind you and wrapped his arms around you. It was so gentle that it almost didn’t seem like David. Again, you tried to say something else but it died on your lips. Instead a whimper came out as you fell to the floor and David gently fell with you. He kept your back pressed against his chest as you kept crying.

“I-I’m sorry.” you mumbled through your tears. David’s face nuzzled your neck as you wept uncontrollably.

“It’s okay. I’m right here.” he quietly said against your skin as you kept trying to steady your breathing. After a few minutes, you had calmed down enough but tears still kept falling down your face.

David listened as your heartbeat kept getting calmer by the minute. It was a soothing sound to him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking at your face. You scoffed, “No, but I’ll live.” you mumbled quietly. David hummed at your response.

“David, I hate this.” you stated with a sniffle. He perked up at your words and listened carefully.

“I hate everything about grief, I hate the confusion, I hate the sleepless nights, I hate the crying and I-” you cut off the sentence as you tried to not go into another crying fit. Taking in a shaky breath, you continued, “And I hate that I don’t know what to do. This whole process fucking sucks.”

David sighed and kissed your cheek. “You’re still in the early stages of grief. It’s confusing and it’s scary to go through. Especially by yourself.” he explained calmly, “One of the best things you can do is try to think of all of the good things that happened in her life. I detest seeing you this way, but I know it’s something you have to go through.” he finished.

You sighed and wiped your face, “But, why does it have to hurt so damn bad?” you asked, turning to try and look at his face. David moved back so he could look you in the eye.

“It hurts because you lost someone you loved. Your mind can’t understand how life will be different without her. Eventually, you’ll understand how to live life like before and carry on again.” he replied, calmly.

His eyes fell to the pearl choker around your neck and his hands moved to take it off. You didn’t object to the feeling of his cold hands as they fumbled with the clasp. Carefully, he took it off and moved to set it somewhere else. “Lets move to the mattress, hm?” David suggested. You nodded and the two of you got up and went to lay down together on the mattress. Instead of laying next to you, David was sitting next to you.

You closed your eyes when your back hit the soft blankets. It was comforting but you didn’t want to sleep even though your body was begging for it. You were just scared of what you would dream of.

“Would you like me to take off your ring?” David asked, holding your hand up to his face. You quirked your eyebrow at him. “Why would I need to take off her ring?” you asked sitting up. David rolled his eyes, “You don’t want it to fall off while you sleep. It might get lost.” he said, meeting your gaze.

“Uh, it won’t get lost while I sleep because I’m not going to sleep.” you replied, moving your hand away from his.

David scoffed at your words, “Kitten, this isn’t up for debate. I know you haven’t slept in days and it’s not healthy for you.” he argued, moving his hands to your face.

“David, I don’t need you to tell me what to do.” You declared. He looked down at you. His eyes were serious and you could tell that he was getting annoyed with this conversation.

“You are going to sleep and I don’t care if you refuse. I’m going to do this anyways” he said, finally. Before you could answer, you slipped into a deep sleep. Your body fell back onto the mattress and David was satisfied. He didn’t like using his vampire powers on you but, he felt like this was necessary. He looked down at your hand and carefully pulled the ring off. David got up from the mattress and set the ring down next to the pearl choker. He looked down at your sleeping form and smirked before laying down next to you. Tonight, all would be well for a while.

#marko the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #david the lost boys #paul the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys 1987 #David the lost boys x reader #david lost boys #rosemary writes

[ricksroaches]

Jungkook - Dysphoria ch. 1

pairing: Yoongi x Reader, OT7 x Reader (platonic)

summary: Jungkook, a burnt out gifted student, comes home from summer camp not ready to start his sophomore year of highschool, but his friends are there to help him feel better. Although not in the best of ways.

notes: This is a Euphoria-ish au but mostly it's just heavily inspired by the show (I use a few quotes), and each chapter is based on a character. There's a few parts where I cue a song title that's because I made a soundtrack to listen to while reading but I deleted it a while ago so :( if you feel like it listen to the ones I did write down. I'm apologizing now bc my writing can be a bit choppy/rushed its just cuz i have a more drabble-like style and don't know how to write between big scenes. THIS IS A DARK FIC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Hope you enjoy and sorry for this big ass paragraph.

word count: 3.9k

warnings: ass-load of angst, mental illness (depression, anxiety, bipolar, OCD, and probably more), drugs (all of them. just all of them), underage drinking, cursing, mentions of self-harm

Next chapter

[Slideshow - Labrinth]

When Jungkook was 5, he wanted to be an astronaut. He wanted to fly into the sky and zip around space exploring things never before seen. His little mind was so strong, wanting to learn anything and everything. When he first learned how to read, he would read every sign he passed in the car and play games with the letters he’d find. It wasn’t long before he was placed in advanced classes with kids he'd never seen before and for the first time in his academic career, he was challenged.

When Jungkook was 10, he wanted to be a doctor. He wanted to wear a white coat and glasses and race around a hospital busy saving lives everyday. He wanted people to look to him for advice and treat him with respect. He wanted to feel needed.

When Jungkook was 14, he wanted to be a paramedic. He didn’t think he’d be smart enough to become a doctor so an EMT would have to do. His classes had begun to pile up in work to the point where he didn’t have the time to think about anything but school. He ate, slept, and breathed homework, projects, and term papers.

When Jungkook was 16, all he wanted to do was graduate. He no longer had any desire to pursue his childhood dreams. When he was asked what he wanted to do when he was older, his mind was a void. He couldn’t see any future for himself past high school. He went day to day not bothering to care about what might happen the next day. He coasted through all of his classes and dropped out of the advanced programs that his parents put him in.

His potential was like a flame. It was small at first, but still had loads of potential, so more kindling was thrown on top. The flame received it well, quickly spreading over the new material. But they kept stacking kindling. Stacking and stacking and stacking putting more and more pressure until finally….the flame died. All because he liked to read.

[Forever - Labrinth]

The clouds inched across the sky and rows of crops and fencing whipped by the car window. A stark contrast between the two. Jungkook rested his head against the glass and watched as the car began to pass more and more houses. The familiar area told him he was almost home. He should’ve been glad, elated even. He would finally get to see his friends again, but after three weeks of summer school to catch up on the class he skipped last year he’d lost the ability to smile or show any form of positivity. To say he felt like a zombie would be an insulting understatement.

The car pulled into the ever so familiar driveway and the rest of his family piled out of the car. He didn’t move. He heaved a long, anguished sigh before snatching his duffel bag from the other seat and throwing open the door.

He was out the front door again before his mom could even ask him where he was going. Speeding his bike down the empty road that he’d ridden countless times before. He could make this route with his eyes closed. The house in question came into view and Jungkook pedaled harder to close the distance. He swung one leg to the opposite pedal and straddled it until he swerved to a stop in the driveway. The house was old, hadn’t been lived in for years, wasn’t on the market, yet wasn’t scheduled to be torn down. It was the perfect place for a group of teenagers to tear apart and put back together. Without knocking, he stepped inside and was hit with the welcoming scent of booze, pizza, and weed with notes of cigarettes and coffee. Music blasting from a distant room in the house led him to the living room where he counted one, two, three, four, five people sprawled about the room. Upon noticing him standing in the doorway, they jumped up and raced to pull him into the room.

“Kook! How you been man? How’d surviving summer school go?” Taehyung was Jungkook’s best friend and unsolicited wingman. He was always trying to set him up with girls so he could get his v card punched. Taehyung was ever the ladies man. Never had trouble finding a date or a hookup. No one could blame him though. If they had that flawless, arrogant face they’d use it too. Despite his fuckboy nature, he was the best friend Jungkook ever had. They’d gone to the same school since they were 7 and Taehyung’s untamable charisma sniffed out Jungkook’s shyness rather quickly. They were inseparable and the rest is history.

“Fine I guess.”

“Kookie, come sit down! I’ve been saving your spot on the couch for you!” Jimin pulled Jungkook to the left corner of the C shaped couch. Jimin was like Taehyung in the sense that he also had no issues with finding partners. He wasn’t near as promiscuous as Taehyung, but he made up for it with his bisexuality. He had an entire other gender to choose from. Jimin was probably the nicest of the group. He always gave the best hugs and was their personal therapist. His aura seemed to coax you into opening up to him even if you hadn’t originally planned on it. He had a way of saying all the right words to make you feel better, even if it was just for a moment. On the other side of him, he was the biggest party animal the group had ever seen. Anywhere else, he was the purest angel that everyone believed could do no wrong. But at a party? Park Jimin was a demon. Seductively dancing in a stylish jacket, pants low enough to show his v-line, sweaty hair flipped back pounding shot after shot until he was the last man standing. That guy could party from sun down to sun up like it was a baby shower.

“Did you at least learn anything you missed last year?” Namjoon. Ever the parent. He was surprisingly humble given his father’s status and money. He easily had the best grades among the friends. School always came easy to him, no matter what it was. However, if you saw him outside of school, you’d never be able to guess he was one of the school’s top students. He carried an energy with him that dared anyone to mess with him or his friends. Although you didn’t see it often, he could make himself scary if he wanted to. All in all, he’s just a gentle giant that made sure everyone turned in their work.

“Absolutely nothing. I don’t know why they keep wasting their time on me.” Jungkook sighed. Hoseok threw a pillow from across the couch, smacking him in the face.

“Yah! Don’t talk about yourself like that!” Hoseok was the human charger. It didn’t matter if someone’s mama died if Hoseok was in the room there would be shenanigans. He was always the one to make some crazy dare that would end up getting them in trouble but they wouldn’t be mad because it was totally worth it. He also had great music taste and almost always was on aux. Hoseok’s vice was coke. Often the driving force behind his hyper nature, it started out as just a thing he did at parties, but slowly creeped into his everyday habits. It hadn’t become a problem yet, he vowed that as soon as he started getting nosebleeds he’d stop, although Jungkook was wary of how difficult that was going to be.

“Where’s Y/N and Yoongi?” Jungkook asked after noticing their usual spots empty.

“They left to get food. They should be coming back soon.” Jin assured him, giving him a comical slap on the thigh. Jin was the eldest, but rarely acted like it. Whenever he wasn’t making stupid dad jokes or eating he spent his time at the classical theater where he worked and sometimes acted. He planned on pursuing acting given his “world wide handsome face.” “It just has to be seen! People around the world need to swoon at my beauty” as he would put it.

No one heard the front door open and shut or noticed Y/N and Yoongi standing in the doorway of the living room.

“Food’s here.” Yoongi finally croaked. Hoseok and Jin yelped and sprung up.

“JESUS! Ever heard of announcing yourselves?! I swear you guys are the exact same person!” Y/N just gave a shrug and plopped onto the large bean bag that she’d claimed.

“Hey, Kooker.” She dragged out.

“Hi Y/N..” His unusual bland reply didn’t go unnoticed by her, but she brushed it off.

“You ready to get shit faced?” A playful grin plastered her otherwise tranquil face. A small smile poked at Jungkooks pursed lips. There was something about her character that always put him in a better mood. She was the one who invited him and Tae into the friend group in the first place, and because of that, he couldn’t be more grateful.

Yoongi tossed him a beer can and his car keys. “Start us off Jungkook.” Yoongi was by far the most terrifying one. It took some time to get to know his true person but there were still times when he still scared the shit out of him. Jungkook remembered when he first met Yoongi. He looked like he’d served time with the seasoned look in his eye that said he’d seen some shit in his day. He hadn’t spoken the entire time the group was talking and Jungkook was beginning to worry that he didn’t like him. It wasn’t til he finally spoke that Jungkook could release the breath he was holding. For someone so stoic and cold looking, he never expected him to have such a low, soft voice. He realized, Yoongi wasn’t scary, he was just quiet like him.

Jungkook took the keys and poked a hole in the bottom of the can. He pressed his lips to it and pulled the tab, sending the amber liquor shooting down his throat. He finished it with ease and crushed the can in his palm while the room cheered and chanted.

The loud music, laughing, and drugs drowned out everything in the outside world. It felt like the world ended and they were the last people left on Earth. Nothing mattered but what was right in front of them. The hours flew by until it came time for everyone to crash. Most of them were still raging drunk or high which only made them fall asleep faster. Jungkook didn’t drink much and he barely smoked. He just couldn’t get in the right headspace to enjoy any of it. So there he was, laying awake among a pile of snoring boys at some ungodly hour of the night. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out to read the text in his notifications.

[We All Knew - Labrinth]

Y/N💜: come to my office

He shimmied out from under Taehyung and Jimin and tiptoed out of the room. He followed the smell of weed through the house because where there was weed, there was Y/N. He stepped into the backyard and found her leaning against the wall, blunt between her fingers. The tip of the dark stick swelled into a bright orange when she took a drag. Smoke rolling out of her nose, she held it out for him. He hesitated.

“You're upset. Take it.” Which was a dead-on observation for Y/N, who’s not normally revolving in the same direction as planet Earth. He hesitantly took a puff from it before handing it back. She spread her arms lazily and looked at him with a beckoning stare. He sighed and walked right into her arms that wrapped around his back. She was only older than him by a year, but her old soul and almost motherly demeanor made him look up to her like she was his idol. Sometimes, he forgot he was a whole head taller than her. “Welcome home, Kookie.”

Hers was the only welcome he got that day that brought a genuine smile to his face. She had a way of making him feel welcome and wanted even if she was in a bad mood. She broke the embrace and without a word headed to the old couch by the empty swimming pool. He eventually followed her and flopped down next to her. Another gush of smoke entered the chilly air and it was handed back to him. Feeling better, he took a healthy drag and sighed out the smoke as he sunk further into the couch.

“Was it that obvious?”

“Was what obvious?”

“Me being upset.”

“Not really.” She flicked the ash off the tip of the brown stick, her gaze not breaking from its spacey stare.

“Then how’d you know?”

“Pain recognizes pain.” Y/N wasn’t one for her genius epiphanies, given that nine times out of ten on any given day she was stoned out of her mind. She wasn’t dumb, god no. He wouldn’t doubt that she was smarter than him, but she rarely exercised her ability. As great of a gift that her mind was, it was an even worse curse. An inescapable tomb of her worst fears, thoughts, and intentions, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. So naturally, she tried anything and everything to silence her mind; alcohol, weed, acid, coke, molly, you name it, she’s done it.

Jungkook wasn’t angry or disappointed by the lengths she went. He knew she was just trying to feel better, and to him, that’s all that mattered. He’d take high Y/N over no Y/N at all.

“Y/N?”

“Yep.” There was a silence while he worked up the nerve to speak.

“How…uh….how long have you felt…the way you feel?” She chuckled and let her head fall back against the couch.

“Well I smoked a blunt with Yoongi in the car this morning and then-”

“No, I mean like…w-without drugs.” Her lazy smile didn’t change, but her eyes unfocused and she grew quiet as if lost in a flashback.

“How long do you think I’ve felt this way?” He didn’t anticipate this question.

“Uh…I don’t know…you hide it really well.”

“I couldn’t tell you when it started. I don’t remember much before 7. I’m told I was a happy kid, but it didn’t feel like it at all. All my life I’ve looked around and seen that everyone was so much happier than me, and I’d ask myself, ‘Why can’t I feel like that?’ It wasn’t until I was older that I learned…I was born to suffer. That’s just my place in the world.”

“When did you finally tell anyone?”

“I didn’t. My parents found my razors.” Jungkook always thought he saw scars on her arms and legs, but her milky skin made it hard to tell. It hurt his heart to know that it was true, and that every one of those once caused her pain. The image of her forearms and thighs slick with her blood brewed tears in his eyes.

“They determined they didn’t have the knowledge to help me, so they asked me to take a tour of this mental hospital and think about their suggestion….” She paused to keep her voice from cracking. “I didn’t make it home that day. Never really forgave them after that.”

There was a long silence after that. Jungkook didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. Besides, he knew she hated condolences. “What made you start using drugs?” She took a drag of the blunt and thought about it.

“I was 13.” Really? “I found my brothers stash of weed in one of his shoes. I already knew what weed was and what it was used for, so I took about a gram and a rolling paper and taught myself how to roll a joint on my bathroom floor. I was shaking like a dog shitting peach seeds but when that joint hit, I thought…” She tilted her head to peak at him with an epiphanic smile, “This is it…This is the feeling that I’ve been waiting to feel my entire life. I thought I was sure to get caught and sent to juvie, but I wasn’t. The world went on, and I found a way to live. Now could my lifestyle kill me? Will it kill me? Yeah probably I don’t know, but at least I could’ve had a few years where I wasn’t begging the universe to put me out of my misery.” She paused to take another hit. “People often ask me, ‘Y/N why don’t you try therapy? Drugs aren’t the answer.’ Yeah well, drugs work. Therapy’s a guessing game; you never know if it’s gonna actually help or not and end up wasting your time and money. But when I take that hit, that line, that tab, the world starts to slow…and everything goes quiet…and I feel safe. In my own head. And I can see the world in color again.”

Jungkook watched her blissful face while she was lost in thought. She must’ve been pretty high because this is the most personal she’d ever gotten with him or possibly anyone that wasn’t Yoongi. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“W-what if I don’t feel what everyone else feels either..?” He pinched the skin between his fingers to keep his tears at bay, a nervous habit he’d picked up from her. She reached over and took his hand in hers, the webbing between her fingers had white and pink stripes from years of fingernails digging into the flesh.

“Jungkook,” she didn’t use his nickname, “I know how hard it was for you to say that. I want you to know how much I appreciate you telling me, because if anyone knows how you feel, it’s me. You can talk to me whenever, wherever. Even when you think it’s a bad time it’s not, because nothing in that moment is more important to me than you. I don’t want you to go through the same thing I did, so please, even if you don’t want to talk, maybe I can at least keep you company.”

For the rest of the night, Jungkook told her everything. About the pressure, the stress, the desire to collapse and let the world go on without him, his inability to see a future where he was fulfilled. The words often caught in his throat, having never said them out loud before. Y/N didn’t say much, she just wrapped them in a blanket and stroked his hair while she just let him talk. Sometimes, he’d have to stop to cry and she’d hold him a little tighter, wipe his tears away with her thumbs, and wait til he was ready again.

Eventually, he had nothing else to say, his tears dried, and his body stilled.

Babies didn’t sleep that good.

Y/N nodded off a little later but was woken up by a raccoon tipping a trash can. She rested her cheek on his head and tried to go back to sleep, but it never came. She just continued to rest her eyes while playing with Jungkook’s hair and tracing lines along his features.

She didn’t know how long she laid there but soon the birds began their routine morning songs and she was sure she wouldn’t get back to sleep now. The faint tap of shoes on the concrete perked her ears, but she kept her eyes closed. The footsteps stopped behind the couch where she sat. It was quiet before the person chuckled quietly. A warm hand smoothed back the hair in her face and a little kiss was planted on her forehead. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.

“Yoongi, I’m awake you creep.” She cracked her eyes open to see her boyfriend laid over the back of the couch hovering above her, his dark hair tickling her nose. He smirked.

“Well in that case,” he grabbed her chin and tilted her head up before capturing her lips in a playful kiss. When they parted, he glanced down at Jungkooks still sleeping figure. “You guys stay out here all night?”

“Yeah,” she looked down at him and smoothed his hair back, “he just had a few things to get off his chest.” Yoongi almost asked what it was about but her face gave him an idea.

“It’s cold, you want me to take him inside?”

“It won’t wake him up will it?”

“If he’s as out as as he looks, he won’t.” She nodded and Yoongi circled around and slipped his hands under the sleeping boy’s body. Much to Y/N’s pleasant surprise, he lifted him bridal style with ease and she followed him into the house where he placed him next to the other slumbering boys.

When he straightened back up he saw her in the sliding glass door, gazing at the now dusty blue sky. She could feel his body heat on her back against the nippy outside air.

“I always loved the time just before dawn.”

“Why is that?” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his cheek to hers.

“It’s so calm and peaceful. And incredibly quiet besides the birds. It’s the only time I feel truly left alone.”

“You want me to show you my favorite time of day?” She turned to him with a curious look. “Follow me.” Not long after, the two were perched on the flat portion of the roof with Yoongi’s bong sitting between them. His angular fingers effortlessly packed the bowl and held it out to her. “All yours.” She took it with a smile.

“What a gentleman~”

Soon, the sky went from a pale blue to pastel shades of orange and pink. He looked over to see her fiddling with a thread on his hoodie she was wearing. “This,” he took her jaw and guided her eyes up for her to see the sunrise, “is my favorite time of day.”

“Why?”

“It gives me hope. Kinda like you.” He was glad she didn’t say anything. She was lost in the color palette of the scene before her, the weed making everything so much more vibrant and striking. He could see the sky reflected in her eyes, making the view ten times better. More time went by and she rested her head on his broad shoulder while they watched the rest of the sunrise.

Back on the ground, Yoongi cleared the bowl and poured out the bong water before setting it on a table by the couch. Y/N was on her back in the center of the empty pool, slowly tearing a leaf above her face and analyzing how it separated cell by cell. He stood on the edge above and watched her do this another four times much to his amusement. “You wanna get breakfast?”

She was out of the pool and in his face before he could finish his sentence. “Like you have to ask.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes before turning and walking to his car. “Hey, Yoongi.”

He turned back.

“Carry me to the car like Jungkook.” He broke into a smirk and walked back to her.

“Yes ma’am.” She let out a yelp when he scooped her off her feet and marched the two of them to his car waiting on the street.

Cover photo: @BIGHITTED on Twitter

#bts #bts fanfic #bts x reader #fanfic #yoongi #yoongi x reader #ot7 x reader #bts fic #yoongi fic #bts angst

[w00wzerz]

🚃Ticket back to Life🚃

(All that matters in Titans s3 ep 9)

There is so much to talk about, so without further ado, lets get into it!

The episode begins with a seemingly defeated Bruce scanning over his will for a few seconds - hinting at the fact that he will harm himself or is planning to soon move on to the “other side.”

At this moment I had crinkled my bag of Doritos, placed them in the crack of my lap and sat in silence for a few seconds. My mind was working overtime to try and piece together just what the hell was going on. These were my initial thoughts: I would like to sincerely apologize to Dick Grayson and Jason Todd for ever having to put up with Bruce Wayne’s crazy ass. The man is coo coo, he’s unhinged! He’s deranged!

However, upon further evaluation of the scene, I came to the realization that this was simply Bruce’s call for help. He had lived his entire life by attempting to mask his pain, using anything in the book to deter his emotions. Until one day, he ultimately settled on taking in kids who he presumed had developed under similar circumstances.

What Bruce failed to realize is that playing the role of a parent is an upmost emotionally draining task - just ask my mother… By raising his own kids with a shit ton of baggage he would also be signing up to mountain theirs atop his own, crafting an incredibly unstable terrain that would inevitably come crashing down.

Now we know where Dick and Jason get their compartmentalism from.

Moving on to my girl Rachel in Themiscyra! You know things are pretty bad when Rachel starts to complain about training too much, seeing as that was all she ever did over at Titans tower.

However, it seems that her hard work has paid off as she has awakened a heightened sense of urgency in her movements - her coordination skills have also improved significantly, as shown below.

Such a badass scene! ☀️

Upon their very first introduction, it is safe to say that Donna establishes an instant connection with the terrified kid who jumped from the train - Tim Drake. It could be the gravitational pull and familiarity with his fear that peaked her interest because of how similar it was to her own, or she could’ve just wanted to make sure that he was okay. And I am willing to bet on ALL OF IT.

Secondly can we all just take a minute to celebrate Donna’s long awaited return! I have never been more excited for the revival of a character. Now Kory can finally have some grown up friends 🥂

After Tim and Donna linger for a-bit in the woods, they meet up with none other than Hank himself. Of course he would be the one to appear out in the middle of nowhere, in an old fashioned car after his death. I wouldn’t have accepted it any other way.

I also have to admit that I was pretty psyched to see Hank again. Do not quote me on this, but a tiny piece of me had missed his annoyingly snarky ass.

Was anyone else feeling some serious 21 jump street vibes from this lttle road trip scene? No… just me? Okay.

Once they’re all familiar with one another Hank begins to take a subtle interest in Tim. As my senses began tingling once more, the pieces had somehow found their way together. Despite the tough ass persona he displayed for the other members of the Titans, Hank has always had a soft spot for kids. Which would also explain why he was killed by Jason in the first place - because he thought he could save Jason from himself. A part of him still feels like an idiot for falling for the false vulnerability that was expressed by Jason on the phone that day.

And no I wasn’t crying at Hank’s farewell, you were 🥲

I was disappointed at first after treading on the idea that they would all return back together. But after viewing Hank’s reunion with his brother, I think it’s safe to say that I’m pretty glad that he decided not to miss out on that drastic part in his journey. Plus who knows, maybe another portal will open again after a few years and they’ll both be back to kick some ass. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Below is another example of Donna’s rocky, yet emotional connection between herself and Tim. And I say rocky because it doesn’t seem that she even realizes it herself, but she loves my little Tim baby!

Tim just has a way of interacting with folks that evokes a sense of urgency to protect him. I also believe that it must be fate that is drawing them all towards each other, especially when taking into account that Tim has practically met almost every member of the Titans dead or alive - by accident.

As you can see below, a teary eyed Donna watches as young Tim fades away into obscurity from her very own finger tips.

And as his body slowly disintegrates she makes it her mission to assure him that he is fact not a coward and that above everything else, he is a hero in her eyes. Now if that doesn’t get the waterworks flowing, I don’t know what will.

————————————

A recurring theme that I’ve noticed throughout the past three episodes is the current writers obsession with fire.

Fire = destruction. 🔥

Even as Bruce set a flame to Wayne’s manor he intended to destroy not only his home, but as well as himself along with it. Could fire represent what is to come in the near future for the Titans? Or am I sipping too much gatorade? I guess we’ll have to wait and see folks. Until next time! ✨😙💜

#titans spoilers #long post #titans season 3 #titans #tv: titans #dc titans #titans hbo #titanssource #titansedit #dick grayson #koryand'r #kory anders #tim drake #donna troy #hank and dove #titansdaily #titans show #dcu titans #anna diop #brenton thwaites #koriand’r

[mehphoobia]

Perseus: Chapter 5- Meant to be

Pairing- Shawn (alpha) x Reader (alpha)Warnings- non character death, violence, blood, death, abuse, fluff, eventual smut, romance.

Summary- The night sky held more than just stars for you, it held your story that guided you towards your Perseus

PREVIEW|PART1|PART2|PART3|PART4|PART5|PART6

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | REQUEST OPEN

___________________________🤍_____________________________

Your heart felt at ease but you found yourself in a difficult position at the same time. Janice was definitely a person you could trust but also telling someone your secret which has been a burden ever since you realized it somehow didn't feel right. Mel never asked you why you would always back away from the topics of mates, little did she know, that blessing was taken away from you.

"Y/N, Ali and Anna in that car. Brian and me will be in this one and Shawn will be behind us." Rhea spoke pointing towards the three cars that were now standing in front of your door. The sun was going to set in a few of hours and you had to start before that. You were picking up your bag and heading towards the car but, "Y/N will be with me. All four of you can fit in the other car. Two cars would be just fine." said Shawn.

"Four of us in one car?" whined Brian. Rhea could definitely sense it and said, "He is right and hey suck up that big fat ass of yours" scolded Rhea and Brian continued to whine. "Children, I have children in my pack" said Shawn helping you with your bags and the small diversion paved a way for a smile on your face.

Janice and Paul were going to stay with Mel and Dave as Dave would need time to heal. Wolfsbane had its own effects. "Hey" Paul came and stood near you. "Hi" you said. "I know this must be too much for you and we are kinda sorr-" "I don't think its your fault. The man said he wanted me so all this ruckus is my fault so please don't blame yourself" you explained.

"I should be the one leaving" you continued. "No all of us are together in this" Janice said over-hearing the conversation. "Yeah and also take care of Shawn he has been too calm about all of this" warned Paul. He left after offering you with a reassuring smile but Janice stayed. "Y/N about the thing you told me earlier, its safe with me so don't worry" Janice calmed the insecurity in you. "Thank you" your voice was soft. "You know what the Moon Goddess has plans for all of us and I am sure she has one for you too" reassured Janice. You smiled through your pain but then "Y/N" Shawn slowly called out your name. You nodded your head and bid goodbye to Paul and Janice.

The car ride was silent but Shawn kept stealing glances and you noticed, way too many times. He pursed his lips at his embarrassment and soon you heart felt at ease at his endearing self. "Aren't you angry?" he asked. "For what?" you questioned back. "Your pizza treat got cancelled" he joked. "Yeah very" you chuckled.

"But shouldn't you be the one who is angry because of me. I mean that ma-" you trailed off when Shawn put his fingers around your hands. "I am not, trust me. Its not your fault. Do you want me to quote Paul now and hey you are supposed to take care of me you know my mood swings" he tried his level best to compress your agony. "You heard?" your eyes widened. He couldn't have had heard you speaking to Janice or did he?

"Yeah and he is right you know" he looked at you briefly before turning his attention back to the road. How does he do that? When ever he is around all of your tension just runs away as if..no that couldn't be. He could not be your mate. For goodness sake you didn't even know if you had one for that matter.

Anger and revenge corrupted his blood. Those hunters had already gotten away with killing his only best friend and now you were threatened too. Rhea who was mentally strong was taken aback. Brian who always seemed like the happy-in-all-times kid seemed scared. He had seen how worried Paul and Janice were for each other and the entire pack. Anna and Ali were completely broken too. He had to stay calm for the sake of his pack, for you.

"Hey I might know a way to make up for the pizza treat" suddenly Shawn jumped in his seat. You were shocked as you said, "Yeah and how is that?" "Our pack used to come around here for our run during the full moon. Do you want to um--uh--twjhuiewe?" his muffling words caused you to have frown on your forehead. "What?" you started laughing at his vulnerability. "COME FOR A RUN WITH ME" he finally blurted out after preparing himself. "Now?" you were surprised at the sudden suggestion or a request perhaps. "Yeah the farmhouse is nearby too and I will convince Rhea about it" he finished his sentence faster than the bees buzzing.

"Okay" Shawn whipped his head at you as if someone had granted his childhood wish. Soon you fetched your pack robe and headed towards the woods after looking at Shawn talking excitedly on the phone. "And he calls me a kid" you murmured.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes as you woke your wolf. Your eyes snapped open and the rose gold color of your eyes worshipped the moon goddess as they glowed in the moonlight. Beautiful white fur was stirred by the soft breeze and the pack robe was around your neck. Now in your wolf form you took a deep breath in and found the familiar earthy scent. Shawn was waiting for you.

"Y/N" Your ears twitched when you heard Shawn's voice. You followed it and found a jet black wolf, bigger than you was standing majestically in the moonlight. Shawn couldn't take his golden eyes off of you. You just looked so beautiful in your wolf form. Slowly, gracefully you walked towards him. The stars in the night sky made you shine and that's when Shawn knew that he was in love.

You nudged his nose and he nestled against your neck, reminding you of his lips when he kissed you in the kitchen. "Follow me" you heard his voice as you both started running in the woods. It was magical. The cool night breeze, the moon glowing in the sky and the stars lighting up the very path was too good to be true. You didn't want the night to end. Little did you know so did Shawn.

After sometime, the both of you stopped near a tree. Shawn looked at it with remorse in his eyes. His head hung low as he watched the roots. "Connor" a plate that hung on a branch read.

Then you realized. The best friend Rhea was talking about was Connor. He was the one who was killed by the hunters. Your heart broke when you looked at Shawn. What must he have gone through? Seeing Dave lying on the floor and Mel crying was such a painful picture for you, but him? Shawn had to watch his best friend die.

You walked towards him and put your head on his neck. He curled himself in your embrace and then looked at you. No words were exchanged but your emotions said it all.

A familiar but an unfamiliar scent grabbed your attention. Shawn realized it too. "Get behind me" you heard as he growled. As your turned and looked at the wolf, you knew those eyes.

"Mom!" Shawn was surprised as he heard you.

_____________________________🤍_____________________________

A/N: Hello guys Chapter 5 is here and its quite a mixed bag. The next chapter will unfold the real mystery so stay tunes for chp 6

My requests are open so go ahead drop in your plots or your feedbacks.

REQUEST OPEN

Also I was thinking about starting an Instagram page where I could let you know about the status for all my fanfics and you could also talk to me personally so let me know what you think about this idea. I mean I am sure asking about when the next part comes out or update on your requests can be easier this way...what do you think?

Love yourself...you are worth it ❣❣

#werewolf shawn #shawn x reader #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes smut #alpha shawn #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction #imagine shawn mendes #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes army #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes series #shawn mendes headers #shawn mendes instagram #shawn mendes wonder #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes feet #shawn mendes layouts #mendes army #alpha reader #reader smut #werewolf fic #werewolf shawn mendes #werewolf series #werewolf violence #werewolf angst

[blushnik]

I love love your works and posts. Always looking forward to more content from you. Anyways my question is that in Punisher season 2 really trashed billy. What do you think about it. Personally I Hate Krista and Madani. Do you think billy and frank would have eventually started a relationship if billy hadn't been outed for betrayal.

*SOBBING HAPPY NOISES* Lemme just- uh, lemme calm down, this was so much praise I didn't expect to see when opening the inbox 😭🙏💙💙💙💙💙💙

Okay, now to your question *breathing exercises initiated*

First, I just wanna say that I kinda pushed the entire season 2 out of my mind, especially THAT part (y'all know what I'm talking about, I ain't gonna say it out loud) cause it just really hurts but xD I think I can handle it for this one occasion.

Season 2 really went ahead and said: Let's just punish Billy Russo for 13 episodes straight, yeah? Cause the show's name is PUNISHER. And he's PUNISHER's nemesis, right? So we PUNISH him, that makes sense, right? *clown mask here* And people will totally cheer when we finally get rid of him cause he's BAD and deserved to be PUNISHED, RIGHT? *clown levels intensify*

Lemme just point out that Billy Russo DID get his punishment when Frank introduced him, quite intimately, to a mirror. He suffered consequences of it during his coma in his dreams and after with memory loss and all conditions that came with it. And that'd be okay to have at the start but NOT FOR THIRTEEN FKING EPISODES.

You can't beat up a character that much, for that long, and then expect us to be cheering when he meets the shittiest end you could possibly think of. Not to even mention the monumental waste of potential in that story.

Remembering what he did and being told what he did are two VERY different things. If he doesn't remember shit then ofc it doesn't make sense to him how could he ever betray Frank like that. For all he knows, everyone just turned against HIM and made up this lie, his best friends and people he cared about going after him for – in Billy's eyes – no reason. Forget Maria and kids and Rawlins, just the fact my best friend, the only person I ever truly felt connected to and trusted and cared about ground my face against a broken mirror would be A LOT to process.

I seriously expected Billy to remember what he's done somewhere in the middle but somehow the writers thought new characters nobody cares about and an overly complex plot is a better way to go? That letting Billy be just a confused screaming crying mess for the entirety of season 2 while ten meaningless subplots get resolved so he can die right after will somehow work?

Look, I get he was supposed to lose everything he had in season 1, that being not only his wealth and company and good looks (he's still hot shut up and those feeble scars, bitch, what was that, Shadow and Bone did a better job at doing accurate scars) but also his self-control, his control over his emotions, composure, his ability to keep his cool, smooth-talking, etc.

But you can't let him be the victim and then expect the audience to not empathize with him or feel sorry for him and to NOT be okay when he dies right after it seems he finally found some peace, happiness, and love (I hate Krista too but shit, he was so happy with those stupid flowers, Ben sure knew what he was doing when he gave those blue flowers to Alina right before everything turned to shit).

Granted, he did shitty things in season 1 and season 2 too but the difference is this;

In season 1, those were his conscious choices. He never was a victim even in his own story. He knew he stepped on other people in order to get himself higher, he decided when it comes down to it, better someone else than him. He decided that after building himself up, no price was too great to pay just to make sure he was never hitting the bottom again and he had no problem with doing it because he's incapable of compassion and 'even though he loves Frank more than anything or anyone, Billy loves himself just a bit more' – Ben Barnes' words, not mine.

But in season 2, he doesn't know about any of that. He does feel like a victim because from his POV, everyone is simply attacking and somebody close to him hurt him for things he can't believe he did because at that point, he believed he would NEVER be capable of doing such things. And when he does something shitty – it's because he feels attacked, he feels like he needs to protect himself and that he's pushed towards it.

Pretty fking hard to see him as a villain, at least for me -.-

It's almost like the writers were too scared to explore that emotional turmoil and impact it would have on him and how it'd change his character if he remembered. Which is SUCH a shame it hurts. Ben Barnes has put so much nuance and depth into Billy's character, he had dimensions and so many layers so just imagine what it would be to have all of that go through some serious angst and explore his relationship with Frank further.

But no.

Instead, we get this imitation of angst where Billy Russo becomes a punching bag and we're supposed to go OOOH HE STILL EVIL BITCH when he darest to punch back.

And don't get me started on the worst character kill-off I've ever seen. Just no. I am not even sharing my opinions on this cause it's too much to think about.

So there you have it, season 2 is trash in my opinion, they really did Billy so dirty while throwing in subplots and characters that were absolutely unnecessary to have. It could totally be just about Frank and Billy trying to come to some closure (violent or not) and maybe Dinah sprinkled in cause she got a lot of beef with Billy too.

Now just to quickly answer the other question, would they have started the relationship eventually if Billy wasn't outed for betrayal?

Marvel and the Mouse are cowards so ofc not in the canon, but in my humble hcs opinion, ofc YES. Frank's the only one Billy feels a connection with and vice versa. And while it's easier for Frank to care for other people than it is for Billy (since, unlike Billy, Frank is capable of compassion), nobody gets him and accepts him the way Billy does. I like to think of that quote from the Darkling for this:

"I've seen what you truly are and I've never turned away."

That's Billy @ Frank. Together with the reasons, I listed in the previous ask where I pointed out how they complement each other ^^

PS: I just wanna say I actually love Dinah but it may be because of my hcs. She was really getting on my nerves at the beginning and then I just made up stuff in my head that made me really fond of her, like Dinah dating Karen Page and being the good bro for Frank and Billy.

Thank you for the reading if you made it this far, THANK YOU for the kind words and keep invading my inbox if you like 🥰💙💙

#asks #brank #frankenbilly #billy russo x frank castle #frank x billy #more brank rant #i love you anon 💙