#we can also say jo went back when he was 'no longer needed' and just let masato live how he wanted to

[todayisafridaynight]

RIGHT YEAH I was also thinking about the scenario of Jo accompanying Masato in relation to this, in the vein of… that'd solidify that the whole lie was always about His Family and not The Family right… because what can Jo even DO for the family while he's away? He's more than a glorified accountant.

Though thinking about it, he probably wouldn't have been away too long, at least compared to a prison sentence for murder. Because Masato only faked his death in 2004 (at the very latest, I guess; it's when the news went public) and Bleach Japan was founded "almost 20 years" prior to 2019, at which point Aoki and Ogasawara had already graduated and returned to Japan.

That and Aoki wasn't in a wheelchair anymore when he met Ogasawara at Harvard, so perhaps Jo would only really /need/ to stay for the procedure and Aoki's physical therapy and all, though of course I can see him staying longer. Still, not too long, all things considered.

So this scenario's kind of the worst of both worlds, because perhaps those first couple of years it's Arakawa's own stubbornness, and then the rest of his family has to go away anyway. And he's so sure in that time what he needs is to be with his family again and he'll at least feel less alone, miss Ichi less.

But then Masato's Aoki now and only really staying in touch to use him and the Arakawa Family's resources for his own gain, and Jo--as you perfectly put it--doesn't know how to emotionally take care of him. So things he should be ecstatic about--seeing his son walk on his own two legs for the first time and having his right hand man back in action--end up bittersweet at best. Aiiieeeeee……

OH YEAH SHINJI I half-remembered there was a visit in 1 but not who actually went to visit Kiryu sorry for doing you like that my boy </3 still counts as part of a pattern to me though… subordinate visiting his aniki…

SPEAKING OF KIRYU. Yeah. Typical Kiryu L. Kazuma Kiryu you have blood on your hands and NOT in the funney Reddit meme way… ABSOLUTELY DERANGED to blame Ichi for anything in the ending whatsoever though like WHAT. He got him immediate medical attention and WE AS THE AUDIENCE don't even have time to react, let alone anyone living the fucking moment good god my blood pressure is spiking

ALSO THE JO POST… YEAH… yeah yeah yeah that's the shit I'm talking about… and like. This is where localization frustrates me so Bear With My Complaints a moment but his very last line is mistranslated in both versions, the sub in terms of what he was actually saying and the dub in terms of giving him this bitchy, flippant tone that doesn't convey his intent. So I'll cut them down the middle and say it's "[The] legit [way]? The word has never crossed my mind, not once."

There's just something to it as a clear thesis for his whole life and his eventual fate. Like of course Adachi means in terms of going through the proper legal processes, but words like proper, legit, decent, these also have clear connotations of adequacy. So for him to literally say NOTHING he's done has been adequate in his eyes perfectly illustrates what you were saying. Like he's always taken it as a matter of fact that nothing he could do would be enough, like that's a truth woven into his existence so tightly he never even thought about it. And now there really is nothing he can do.

i have my own theoretical timeline on masato's stay in america, but even with what we have there's a lot of variables involved with for exactly when certain events happened

under the assumption masato was to enroll at harvard in the fall of 2001 (assuming he was somehow able to be approved for a lung transplant as soon as that year), then jo would- at max- might only have to be abroad for (assuming they leave in january) nine months (to account for the time it took for masato to get approved for surgery and then the surgery itself plus the potential 3-6 month recovery period afterwards)

alternatively, if masato had to wait a year- two max if we're being optimistic so he could graduate on time under an accelerated 2-year academic schedule to get surgery- then jo, similarly, would have to be abroad for a similar amount of time.

the time gone doesn't matter too much i guess: arakawa will still be left alone for a long time, and that really couldnt have been easy either way. the time his family's gone only makes their comeback all the more bittersweet, as you put it (´▽｀;;)

OH BUT YEAH NO THE Y7 BIT THAT SHIT PISSED ME OFF SO MUCH WHEN I READ IT like mates were trying to be smart about it like 'wow ichi way to go showing how much you love aoki and how you'd do anything for him 🙄' like God Forbid a human character acts human and imperfect what the fuck you want him to do he aint got no goddamn spidey sense how the shit was he supposed to know (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)(;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)(;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

but yeah.. speaking of Doing The Right Thing jo's never ending feelings of inadequacy are my favorite </3 cause its like.. it's a reason why i love jo so much if i can be weird to say: what he did wasnt something that you can confidently forgive or try to say 'he's done the most to rectify this' or anything like that because putting a baby in a coin locker's like.. a lot of steps are involved to do that.. not really a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing that would have grounds to forgive yourself for.. so the fact jo knows this and just has that intense guilt- it's my bread and butter to say the least 😔

#long post #snap chats #i didnt mean to ramble about my masato timeline OOPS. i havent mentioned it in months tho.... i do like thinkin a it.... #thats not even to consider the idea of jo staying abroad all four years to make sure masato was getting along fine #and to make sure he made it back to japan alright- but for the sake of giving masato some independence for a bit #we can also say jo went back when he was 'no longer needed' and just let masato live how he wanted to #but again i guess the exact amount of months and years dont matter too much #as for Jo's Suffering though i can't explain why i love it so much #i think its just cause like. its nice that a character acknowledges they did something unforgivable #like even if aoki did get the lung transplant and he's fine- or WAS fine rip- that doesnt negate the 24 some years he had to be miserable #i cant explain it im very bad at explaining things can we tell #its just such a weird situation. because again what jo did isnt something you can excuse or forgive yk #like masato's critical years and his early adulthood were severely impacted by his disability #to say half his life was altered by jo's actions is an understatement- and jo knows that right #even if he made sure everything that could be done for him to make his life better was done #there was probably always that thought of 'this extra work wouldnt be necessary if i didnt do that' yk what i mean #so i guess im just glad he's dedicated to acknowledging that and trying to take responsibility for it now #idk idk i cant explain it but i hope we know what i mean. dear god i hope we do words arent my strong suit #but yeah again.... now he cant do anything to continue righting that wrong in his eyes #now its just guilt with no means of alleviating it and THAT. hurts the soul in a good way. me thinks anyhow

[cuddly-dean-baby]

The Lawyers 2

PART 1 // PART 3

Pairing: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader

Words: 1,216

A/N: here’s the second part that people wanted, and I had some help from @pbeckn26 (thank you, by the way)

A/N 2: also you have the same abilities as Matt but not as blind as him

After unpacking the last box into your new apartment, you flop down onto the couch. Ever since you called things off with Matt, you’ve managed to find a place almost immediately.

You had to sell your last apartment since most of the time, you were at Matt’s.

The past few days, you’ve been cooped up in your new home, never really leaving the place, only going out to get some fast food. 

Foggy and Karen have offered to help you unpack, but you wanted to do it yourself. They’ve also tried to get you to come out to Josie’s, but you had a feeling that they were gonna bring Matt, who you can’t face right now.

Hearing knocks at the door, you groan, not really wanting to deal with people. But concentrating on the heartbeat, you knew it was someone you never thought you’d need right now.

“It’s open,” you say, knowing the man on the other side of the door could hear you.

The door clicks open with taps and footsteps coming in. The door closes with a whack from the tap-maker.

Feeling the tap-maker, knowing it’s his walking guide, pat your leg a few times, you sit up before shuffling over to make room for the old man. He feels you rest your head against his shoulder, having him do the same against your head.

Silence sits there between the both of you two; it’s comfortable. You’ve known Stick longer than Matt has. 

“What’s going on between you and him?”

Looking down, you grab one of his hands to start playing with it. He knew that it was one of your anxious moves; you knew that he trained you to not get close to people. 

‘Cause this was the outcome.

“You were right. I should’ve listened to you. I shouldn’t have gone close to people; ‘cause one way or another, they leave.”

“When was the last time you went out?”

“Last night, doing the night jo-”

“Properly.”

“...the night I knew he was with her; was with Karen and Foggy at Josie’s.”

Feeling his body shift, you knew he was getting up, so that’s what you let him do. “Get ready to go.”

Not even asking on where you were going, you just followed his order.

Sweat beads on your forehead before it steamed down your face. Stick knew taking you to Fogwell’s would help release the tension and anger out of you.

In the corner of your eyes and from your swinging at the punching bag, you saw the old man walk out, yourself thinking that he needed to go to the toilet or get something to eat.

Not focusing on who just walked back in, you got more angry from the voice. “Uh, hi, (Y/N). Can we talk?”

With one final blow to the punching bag, it goes flying towards the owner of the voice, just missing their body. Their eyes meet yours after they watched what just happened with the bag. 

Your chest was calming down from the heaving breathing your body went through. “What is there to talk about, Jennifer?”

Jennifer took a few steps forward as you were grabbing another punching bag and dragging it over, one handedly. 

“Matt hasn’t been doing well. He hardly leaves his apartment; when he does, it’s only for him to go to work. And he hasn’t been going out at night either, and not sleeping enough.”

“Unfortunately, Jennifer,” you lift the bag onto its hook and looking at the She-Hulk past it, “I couldn’t give two shits what’s going on with him. He knew that there are consequences to actions, some stronger than others.”

It was a lie. You cared a lot, but you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it.

“Can you please just come see him?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I- I don’t know.” She watches you move to your back whilst unwrapping your hands. “We haven’t done it since. It was a second time fling. We just wanted to see if there was anything there, but there wasn’t. He still loves you.”

The next morning:

Balancing the holder of coffees in one hand and holding a bag of baked goods in the other, you open the door to the attorneys with your hip. 

Karen squealed at the sight of you. You and Matt cringe a bit at the noise, which Karen immediately noticed. “Sorry! I forgot about the super hearing.” She takes the coffees and baked goods away from you before giving you a hug.

“Karen, it’s only been a few days,” you chuckle out.

“Few days too long.” She presses a kiss to your cheek before separating from the hug. 

When you look at Foggy, he’s already munching on his baked good and sipping away at his coffee. “Foggy! You don’t even know if that was yours.” Karen scolded him.

“They get the same thing for us. And I couldn’t wait! They bring the best stuff.”

Karen rolls her eyes before getting her things. She looks at you and asks, “Would you like to give him his things? He’s in his office.” Nodding, you grab the cup holder and bag from the table and walk to the said office.

Gently tapping the door with the tip of your shoe, you hear a quiet, “Come in.” Doing so, you nudged the door closed.

Looks like Jennifer was right. Matt looks like he hasn’t slept since you left. 

Placing the bag and holder on the desk, you place the baked good on a napkin on the side for him. “Give me your hand,” which he does. You help him wrap his hand around the coffee cup.

He feels your presence close to him as you’re leaning against the desk. Sipping his coffee, he hears you speak up. “Jennifer came to see me yesterday at Fogwell’s, talked about you.” 

He looks at you, his eyes widened. “Jennifer came to see you? Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she did, and she’s okay. I didn’t hurt her if you’re worried about her. I did hurt the punching bag though, made it go flying.”

Furrowing his eyebrows, he places his cup on his desk to grab one of your hands. “Any major injur-”

“Nothing’s broken, only small bruises. Stick checked when I got back home.”

“Stick was with you?”

“He somehow knew I hadn't left the house properly, only to go to the nightly jobs.”

Matt immediately stands up, dropping your hand in the process. He picks you up to sit you on his desk before standing in between your legs. His hands go to your sides, pressing against them. Once he heard you groan in pain, he asks, “What happened?”

“What do you think? I got taken down, thinking I could take on 10 guys at once. I took down eight of them, but one of the last two had a gun and shot me in the side. Bullet gave itself an exit wound, though.”

Nothing is said for the next minute. Matt closes his eyes and gently bumps his head against yours. “I love you.”

“Matt, I- I can’t do this right now.”

That was the last thing you said before you left his office, bidding your goodbyes to Foggy and Karen.

Matt just stands where he is, feeling his heart break again.

MARVEL TAGS

@lilian-maximoff - @spnfanboy777 - @wolf-knights - @blurredx18 - @emmaandkodak - @lvrsath​

#marvel #marvel fluff #marvel angst #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil angst #daredevil x reader #daredevil x male reader #matt murdock #matt murdock fic #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x male reader

[jasmineshaven]

somehow their name sticks out

a short jo + dean fic for jo's joyous birthday! you can also read it on my ao3 :)) @mrcowboydeanwinchester

Jo’s finger tapped against the wood of the table, not really following any discernible rhythm. The dirt underneath her nail beds made her remember how much she would kill to wash off all of the grime that still lingered. Maybe she could have a quick shower at the next motel.

These days, it felt as if hunting had lost its spark. Of course, it never quite had the same spark once the adrenaline from her first hunt had worn off and her experience wasn’t just a half-baked romantic notion that some barfly put in her head, but this was different than before. If hunting burnout was a thing, she was getting a rough time of it.

“Hey, I got your caffeine,” Dean said, sitting down at the chair opposite Jo and nudging the large plastic cup towards her. In his other hand, he held a similarly sized cup of black coffee.

“Double shot of espresso?” 

Jo took the drink from the table and squinted at the printed label on the front. It’s not that she didn’t trust Dean to get her drink right. It’s just that they were both running off of the caffeine boosts and Jo barely even remembers giving Dean her order, let alone saying it correctly.

“Two blonde espresso shots over ice.”

“Huh,” Jo hummed, relaxing when the drink tasted like she remembered. It reminded her of the days when she would spend her mornings hunched over the newspapers in the corner of the Roadhouse and highlight the different news stories that could be a possible case. When she would go off sulking because her mom refused to let her investigate and loiter around different coffee shops until the sun went down and it got too cold for her to stay out any longer.

“I don’t know how you drink those first thing in the morning,” Dean said, chewing on his straw while he scrolled through his phone.

“At least my coffee doesn’t taste like car fuel.”

He sighed, gave her the usual eye roll, and continued. “Speaking of car fuel, we need to stop someplace to fill up the tank on Baby before we head to Illinois.” 

“Are we getting a room in Illinois? I’m not sure how much longer I can sleep in the backseat before I start going insane,” Jo admitted, pressing the heels of her palms to her tired eyes.

“Yeah, I can’t say sleeping upright is the most pleasant either. I’ll get us a room.”

“With two beds, a shower, and room service?”

“With two beds, a shower, and room service,” Dean repeated back to her, swinging his bag over his shoulder and standing up. “C’mon, you can drink the rest in the car.”

“Not scared that I’ll spill it all over your precious seats?”

Jo chuckled as she followed, grabbing her own bag and pulling it up over her shoulder. She wasn’t looking forward to the tedious hours they’ll spend in the car–or Dean’s horrendous singing she’ll be subjected to–but the promise of a bed made it all worth it. Sorta. 

“You do that and you’ll find yourself abandoned on the side of the road.”

“You wouldn’t leave me out here,” she said, getting into the passenger seat and dropping her bag into the footwell. “Here’s to another nine hours in a car. What a way to spend the weekend.”

#had to pull myself out of my writing slump to get this done but i'm so glad that i did because i love jo so much hehe <3 <3 #jo harvelle #dean winchester #spn #josjoyousbday #spn fic

[leonsliga]

Hi! How could you describe leon personality with the people he knows 🤍

Aww hi anon 💜 I think, like all of us, who Leon is depends on who he’s around. So what do you say we talk about some of the Bayern teammates he interacts with the most? I’ll also try to throw in a picture that summarizes his relationship with each one, like a mini picture book of sorts :)

Joshua Kimmich: Leon’s the order to Jo’s chaos, the quiet to his noise (when he hasn’t had his magic potion coffee, anyway). He’s protective with Jo while also giving him the space he needs to feel secure in himself and his role in the team. Leon seems to steady Jo, to ground him in a way no one else can. Their relationship is more than just Leon stabilizing the defense so Jo can surge forward and fuel the attack (or vice versa) though. It’s not reserved only for the midfield; their bond transcends the football world. It’s a partnership forged as much off the pitch as on it—one based in trust, tenderness, and mutual respect. After all, they’re business partners—We Kick Corona’s founding fathers. They even appeared on the German Who Wants to be a Millionaire? as a team. We may not know everything about their relationship, but the snapshots the cameras catch tell us a vivid story—a story of twin anchors taking turns grounding each other.

As is tradition, Leon Goretzka embraces his midfield partner, a gesture of recognition for the way in which they have helped each other thrive. In turn, Joshua Kimmich clings to him; the expectation that Leon will steady him through currents of passion remains unspoken.

Serge Gnabry: I’m almost 100% sure Leon and Serge love to annoy the shit out of each other, but at the end of the day, it’s all love, holding hands, piggyback rides, and strutting around Säbener like the royal couple they are. Serge didn’t call Leon his “kleinen Bruder” (little brother) for nothing after all ❤️ Leon has literally lifted him up before, but he isn’t afraid to knock him down a few pegs when necessary to keep him humble 😂

Leon Goretzka accompanies his best friend and brother, Serge Gnabry, on a stroll around Säbener Straße, Serge’s arm looped through his.

Leroy Sané: I feel like Leroy brings out Leon’s goofy side. They’ve probably known each other longer than Leon’s known anyone else on the Bayern squad, since they went to school together and played for their school’s football team. In other words, he’s not in as much of a “jaha” mood when Leroy’s around 🤣 That hardened shell Leon’s developed to handle the media attention cracks a bit, in the best possible way. That practiced seriousness melts away and leaves a genuine smile behind.

A passionate kiss on the cheek for Bayern’s number 10, the kind reserved for a relationship born in childhood and nurtured under the watchful eyes of millions.

Thomas Müller: I think Leon’s annoyed and amused by Thomas in equal measure. When I think of their interactions, the first thing that comes to mind is, of course, the classic Die Mannschaft video where Thomas says Holland instead of the Netherlands and Leon immediately snaps back with “Das ist auf gar keinen Fall richtig!” (“that is in no way right!”). I think Thomas wore Leon down in the end though, because Leon’s not afraid to tease him right back. If Thomas winds him up, he can expect that Leon won’t let that crime go unpunished!

Thomas Müller being his usual self and Leon looking off into the distance in amused disbelief.

Manuel Neuer: describing Leon’s relationship with Manu is a little bit trickier. Like Leon though, I like a challenge! I think Leon enjoys pushing his buttons a lot and tossing little jabs at him, trying to get him to crack. However, Manu’s not just any old Bayern teammate, he’s the captain, and as the overworked team mom, he’s used to dealing with the rambunctious, meddling kids that make up the Bayern squad. Whether Leon’s ever succeeded in winding him up is anyone’s guess, but what we do know is that the two are clearly close. After all, Leon’s addressed several of his selfies to him; not even Jo or Serge can say the same 😂

“Don’t hurt yourself, kid” Manuel Neuer writes to Leon Goretzka, one of the teammates under his charge as captain. If this exchange is any indication, it appears Leon’s attempts to grind the gears of his fearless leader have failed so far.

#anon 💖 #thanks babes…this was so much fun :) #I’m loving the Leon asks!! #sorry it took so long though! life’s been busy 😵 #I’d love to do more teammate relationship write-ups if you want/if there was someone you wanted mentioned that I missed #also holy shit my Kimetzka bias is showing 🤭 #leon goretzka #fc bayern #fc bayern munich #fc bayern münchen #football asks #my asks

[lightleckrereins]

Just imagine

The finale starts the very same way it did. Sam and Dean are happy and domestic and now have a dog.

They go to the pie festival where they start talking about everyone they have lost and everything they sacrificed.

They end up talking about Cas. Dean is avoiding that one final conversation.

They end up going into a hunt. There is no random season 1 vampire. After a really though fight one of the vamps stabs Dean before Sam finishes off.

Dean tries to start his “I’m dying” speech when lights start exploding. I don’t have to explain how this entrance goes.

The barn doors open and Castiel is there.

“Cas?”

“Hello Sam”

Cas starts explaining how he has been helping Jack fix heaven. He heals Dean without touching him or looking at him gay angel is mad but is not about to let Dean die like this. He turns around to leave.

“Cas wait”

Dean goes on about how he can’t just leave again.

“Look man. What you said. We were about to die and I couldn’t think”

He doesn’t confess his love right here, this man needs a while to acknowledge he has feelings but it is heavily implied.

“Just don’t leave again without letting me say something this time”

Castiel just looks at him and goes “Fine”

Cut to the long and happy epilogue montage.

They are all in the bunker, Sam comes out with a bag. Eileen is waiting in the stairs.

Sam and Dean are on a hunt. The monsters blow up. They turn around and Jack is there awkwardly saying hi.

Sam and Eileen do research together.

Dean and Cas go hunting together.

Sam proposes to Eileen. She says yes. Both on sign language.

All their living friends go to the wedding. Dean is the best man. Cas awkwardly marries them. Jack is the flower girl.

Dean Cas and the dog emerge from the impala and look onto a rebuilt Harvelle’s roadhouse only the road says Winchester’s roadhouse. They start setting up. It is Jack’s wedding present.

Eileen is clearly pregnant. She and Sam are decorating a nursery. You can see guarding signs in pastel tones and plushies with meta references.

Dean is running through a hospital, there is blood in his face. He arrives to a room to see Sam and Eileen with their new baby. The idiot ran all the way from a hunt to see his nephew.

Hunters come and go from the roadhouse. Same with Castiel between doing god stuff with Jack.

Jody and Donna go visit Sam and Eileen. The baby is wearing plaid (because what else).

Claire and Kaia are drinking with Dean. Castiel arrives. They have been getting more and more physically intimate every time we see them.

The whole family is celebrating Christmas. Jody, Donna and their girls are there. Same for Charlie and her gf. Bobby is playing with Sam Jr.

There is a knock at the door. It is Rowena bearing gifts. The queen of hell takes Christmas off to see her adopted children.

Dean is playing with a slightly older Sam Jr.

Next time we see him Castiel is at the roadhouse wearing Winchester plaid.

Sam is helping his kid with homework there are both textbooks and lore books on the table.

At some point the dog stops appearing.

A hunter is drinking coffee on Sam and Eileen’s living room while they look through some books. In the background you can see all the FBI cellphones.

Dean plays pool in the roadhouse with Cas by his side.

Sam and Dean visit Jody and Donna who are now retired together.

At some point they go to Donatello’s funeral. The camera goes up implying he went to heaven in the end.

Sam and Dean are bickering in the kitchen. Eileen laughs. Cas questions his life choices. Jack and a tween Sam Jr. are outside talking. Jack might be god but he is also the kid’s older brother.

Bobby’s funeral. Many hunters are there. Dean delivers a speech. Ends up saying he will see him someday.

Dean teaches teenage Sam Jr. how to drive in the impala. It goes as well as you can imagine.

They all have family lunch together.

Castiel heals Dean. Sexual tension has gone away. They are an actual old married couple now.

Sam Jr. graduates college the whole family is there to celebrate. You can see the tattoo in his arm.

This kid is having the best of both worlds plus a loving family.

Hunters arrive in a hurry to the roadhouse. We go into Dean and Cas’s bedroom. Sam is holding his hand. Cas is sitting on the other side with Jack standing beside him.

Now old man Dean gets to give his emotional speech. We all cry like we were supposed to.

After he dies surrounded by his family the camera turns. Cas and Jack are no longer there.

Dean arrives in heaven. He is still in his bedroom. Jack is there to welcome him.

Down on the heaven roadhouse all his loved ones are waiting for Dean.

Mary gives him the longest hug.

Same with original Bobby.

Everyone is there for the reunion. Jo, Ellen, original Charlie (who jokes about them getting another Charlie because they missed her so much), Kevin (In heaven as he deserves), Pamela, Adam, Benny (Somehow). John Winchester doesn’t deserve to be in here but if he is he is in the background.

Dean turns to the door and there is a silhouette in a trench coat.

He runs towards Cas because its been a while since he could run like that.

Now we get the kiss. It is as beautiful and tender as we imagined. And deserved.

Everyone leaves them be. Jack has been updating them on Destiel for the past 30 odd years.

Back on earth we get old man Sam (a believable old man Sam) mourning his brother on the Impala.

Dean and Cas go on a ride in the impala.

Sam dies with his kid by his side. It is implied Eileen passed away at some point. After he is gone Jack puts a hand on Sam Jr’s shoulder reassuring him their dad is happy and went to reunite with both his brother and the love of his life.

Dean parks the Impala. He and Cas get off the car. Castiel stays behind. Dean goes to the bridge railing.

“Hey Sammy”

They embrace. Castiel is there with them. Everyone is happy.

#supernatural #spn #15x20 #spn finale #supernatural finale #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #destiel #we all agree we did deserve a nice ending to this show #I cried myself to sleep while mentally writing this last night #so I decided why not actually write it #if you told me a week ago supernatural would be the thing to pull me out of writing retirement I would have laughed #fix it fic #my writing

[ravenadottir]

Oh gosh, you're back!! Welcome back, missed you and your posts so much ♡♡ I scrolled down and read (and reread) every post you made after your hiatus announcement /cries/ And also, I saw you want more ask, so... How will s2 LI react, if at the last party (The one after MC and LI won), when LI said they love MC, MC replies with something along the line of "You can drop the act now that we won" because MC believe that LI is playing games? Do you think they'll get mad, or try to convince MC?

li's reaction if mc responded "you can drop the act now" when they said 'i love you'...

wow, this took me long enough to answer, i'm sorry anon! and thank you for the love, sending it right back!

i like this because some of them showed us a moment or two of fragility in the relationship, or how they perceived the possibility of having one while in the villa. those will have a longer answer. it's also awesome because it also implies mc could've been skeptical about their feelings towards her, and we love some angsty discussion about feelings. i know i do, so let's jump right into it!

bobby. feeling the whiplash. "you thought i was lying?"

"you were pinned down as a player, weren't you? and you didn't exactly deny it either."

"so you thought i lied about being in love with you?"

"not lying, just... exaggerating."

"well, i'm not! and i wasn't. and i can't believe you would actually think that of me."

"can you blame me? you were parading the player thing as a joke and i asked for reassurance but you never gave me any. i do love you, but you can't blame me for thinking you might not."

"well, i wasn't. i didn't play back then and i'm not playing you now. good to know you think i am."

it would take some days for him to see where mc stands. he was really playful, probably because he didn't think mc actually believed in it, which is kind of sad when he hears that she did. but i don't reckon it would take him more than a few days to knock on her door and talk it out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

carl. sad, and lost, but he gets why. "i get that you would think i'm lying because of how apprehensive i was. but i'm not. i do love you. it's not an act.". he would be so lost he doesn't even know what it means when she says that. the entire time in the villa was an emotional roller coaster to him. he did things, said things that he'd never thought he could in so little time, so he wouldn't be mad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

elisa. determined to make mc believe her. "it's not an act babe. i came here to meet someone and i did. when i told you i wanted to be your girlfriend, i meant it. so unless you want to bail and end things, don't say stuff like that, because by now you should know i'm not faking anything."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

gary. confused and thinking it's a joke. "i might drop trou if you say that one more time. where did that come from? what are you, mental? we went through a guy stealing you, drama, lottie... i wasn't lying then, and i'm not lying now. now stop this rubbish and let's get a glass of bubbly."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

henrik. sensitive. "what? 🥺 how can you say that? please don't ever say that... is that how you feel? do you really think i don't love you? because i do! very much... 😔 why would you say that?"

"i don't know, just thought you might want a way out."

"i don't... never say that again."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ibrahim. offended, confused. "do you really think i would've hurt jo like that if i wasn't in this for real?"

"i just think, things were going so fast with her, maybe being with me wasn't what you wanted."

"it is. i just needed some time to process how i felt... how can you say something like that?"

"well, i had to pick you didn't i? you didn't pick me. i wondered if you still had feelings for her and was just... stirring into the skid."

"i'm not. i regret some decision i made while in the show but... i didn't know you felt that way. i'm sorry if the whole thing made you think i wasn't serious about you. to be honest, i thought you were over me, so i tried to move on. but i don't want you thinking i don't mean it when i say i want you as my girlfriend. because i do."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

kassam. offended. "act? are you playing an act? because i'm not. and i'm kind of offended you would think that of me. i never gave you this impression or did anything that would make you think that. or did i?"

"no..."

"then drop that, because it's not an act. do you really think i would've opened up if i wasn't serious about you? that's crazy."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

lucas. playfully offended. "why, are you playing an act?" he smirks.

"no, i just thought you might want a way out."

"you think you're getting rid of me that easy huh? unless you tell me to leave, i'm not going anywhere. you should know by now i don't lie. i might make terrible mistakes, i fight for the wrong reasons sometimes. i know i can be a knob... but i don't lie."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

marisol. confused. "did i say something to make you think i don't mean it?"

"it took you a solid time to be with me."

"because i wanted to be sure of what i wanted. it didn't take me long to realize it, it took me long to build courage. i told you i'm not as confident with women... but i do love you. and i felt it for a while. unless you want this relationship to end because you don't feel the same, we're rock solid."

#litg #love island the game #litg s2 #litg season 2 #litg bobby #litg carl #litg elisa #litg gary #litg henrik #litg ibrahim #litg kassam #litg lucas #litg marisol #queue #group asks #while in the villa

[jockpoetry]

supernatural sees women as a tool for development and strengthening of narratives/motivation and dean sees his body as a tool. is that anything?

When I saw this ask I really made the 🥴in real life. So, yeah anon, I do think there’s something to this.

Quick Disclaimer before I actually launch into my thoughts™: A lot of my read of Dean stems from my experience as both an oldest daughter and a transman. Being the oldest daughter was an experience I lived for many years, but I am also a man. I wasn’t raised as a man, I wasn’t socialized as a man, and even though once I came out upon reflection my masculinity was obviously there. Like I was a man™ before I knew I was a man. Even when I actively tied my identity to femininity for a long time! A lot of my prideful moments were based around statements like: “I was the only girl who (fill in the blank).” 

So I am just putting that out there before I launch into my spiel about Dean/Gender/Tool because they all interlock for me. 

I am also going to apologize in advance because I know this has fully gone off the rails and I’m not even done writing it yet. If this is incomprehensible ! Well, happens to the best of us.

First off, most importantly I guess before we discuss womanhood and Dean and the way both are utilized on the show I need to say that I personally don’t subscribe the whole Dean is female coded thing. 

It’s a read I can absolutely understand. But for me..he’s not. 

He’s a hypermasculine man to the point that when (and because he is written as a punchline, as the stupid™ brother, as the whore™, as the mother/father™, as daddy’s blunt instrument™, etc) Dean deviates from the pre-accepted definition of hypermasculine it’s Wrong. 

It’s Instantly Feminine. 

I think the internet has made the world very black and white, or blue and pink maybe. This point, I think, colors a lot of these discussions. Dean cooks, he cleans and so therefor he’s female coded. When that really just feeds back into the whole toxic masculinity loop. You can’t be masculine and cook and clean and cry. That’s for feminine people only. 

I get the argument! I do, I just think that Dean’s actions are not inherently feminine, it’s just in the vacuum of Female and in the Absence of Traditional Masculinity it makes sense to assign him female coded and move on.

IN FACT the way that Dean is the action hero of the show, the Masculine™ one on the show - but he cries, and he rages, and he cooks (Again and Again) and cleans (Again and Again). The fact he’s macho and confident but he has so little self esteem. Is frankly insane to me. You have this blaze of glory character who is so depressed that they have him kill himself. Twice. In explicitly “I hate myself, I hate hearing all the things I hate about myself, I want to destroy myself” ways. 

On just a regular ol’ network show that is just ungodly bad at times. They let their Male Hero cry - all the time (if I linked every example of this the essay would be...longer than it already is, but just take my word for it). Dean tears up and grieves and shows more than just Angry Horny Violent™ (he shows plenty of that, don’t get me wrong) but he’s Emotional (Again and Again and Again). In many different ways!

I mean, beyond even just tearing up, they make their Male Hero™ face sexual violence in pretty, uniquely horrifying - and queer! - ways.

Let’s make it clear, they did a lot of this unintentionally. 

Or they do it as a joke. 

Off of dean for a moment to say women are plot devices in this show. I could probably count on one hand female characters who have sincere depth to them that have roles outside of progressing plot, filling a filler episode, and who are still alive. Like even characters such as Charlie who are wholly developed, and interesting, are only remembered/mentioned/utilized to progress plots or fill an episode out - and then she dies. For pain™ for plot™ for no other reason than to traumatize a character. 

Which let’s also make it clear Dean’s trauma is also only used as a plot device (as is Sam’s but in a different way, and Cas’ trauma is a whole other barrel of fish we’re not gonna dive into right now). Like wholesale full stop they don’t actually care about what happened to him. Unless it’s relevant in an episode. 

Oh that boys home he was left at when he was 16 for months? Sure we’ll sprinkle that in in the back half of the series. Oh he was covered in bruises and said it was from a hunt (when it’s clear contextually they were from his father but saying the fantastical but true is easier than saying the uncomfortable but true). As Dean says though the story became the story, he was sixteen. He just went along with what John said.

We only see Dean ever truly rage at John, by the way, when either Dean is dead (when he’s between life and death and he rages at John, right before John “apologizes” for traumatizing him, for putting too much on Dean’s shoulders, and fucking dying) or John is dead (the Djinn episode where Dean is straight™ and John is dead™ and he goes to his grave and just yells and rages like he should have to his father in the real world).

Dean’s trauma from being both tortured and torturer in hell? Yeah, we don’t talk about that after it’s Relevant™. Even though it’s clear - especially in the demon!dean, mark of cain era, all those years later - Alastair still has his hooks inside of Dean. I stopped watching originally after s8 ended. I was fed up with the show, and with this whole renaissance I’ve been doing a rewatch and I’m into season twelve now and it really has never come up again. 

Even when he had the mark of cain and he was tasked with questioning and accused of torturing it was “the mark has changed you” and not “you were victim and victimizer in hell for forty years, which is longer than you’ve been alive on earth” (and, was about as long as he wound up living. Which is desperately sad.

Because we talk about Sam’s desire for a “normal” life but, Dean wanted out too. He was tired in the first few seasons of this show, he never had a chance to taste freedom (we don’t count the boys home, because that was a different kind of regimented life, and it was a false freedom) the way that Sam did in Flagstaff with Bones or at Stanford with Jessica. Love for Dean is sacrificing, it’s putting himself/his happiness/his well-being last.

Because Dean only knows love in the context of violence (like all of these fun examples, for starters) is a phrase that I’ve said a lot both in private chats and on here, and I absolutely think it goes to him being a tool (a blunt instrument, a plot device, so both textually and metatextually) instead of a person. Which Cas sees Dean’s shame/guilt and sees that side of Dean because he touched his soul, and saw more than just the Righteous™ man, more than just the tool, he saw A good man, not a machine. 

On the other side though you have how “bad guys” view Dean: Desperate, Sloppy, Needy, Dean’s hole (Again), which is again so wildly counterintuitive to the story of a Macho Man Hero™. You’re using vocabulary that is both queering him and feminizing (and I know this a meme format, but sincerely it is done in a derogatory way it is feminizing. It’s breaking him down to bare parts, to a sloppy hole). 

My whole rewatch I have been absolutely fascinated by how identity and free will is utilized/conceptualized on this show. Castiel has been my main focus, but Dean and how he is framed by himself and others is...fascinating - and frustrating. The writers inconsistency lends itself not only to this unintentionally queer character, but also one that again is incredibly easily read as a non-traditionally masculine character.

As a feminine character.

This show has so few female characters that of course it had to foist the roles/behaviors/plots that a female character might have onto a male character. Which I think is part of why reading Dean as trans (either transmasc, or transfemme) is so easily done like.   

Half of these are shit posts, but you can find trans allegories/textual evidence in this show again, again, again, again, and again. And this is unintentional, they don’t want you to look at Dean and see woman, former future or present. Like a lot of these I’m sure are punchlines for them, because women/queer folk are punchlines to them. 

Sometimes the only women in an episode are random witnesses who get two sentences of dialogue, and then the main guest character is a man. Who flirts with Dean, and Dean is receptive to it. 

They paint themselves into a corner, there are female Rabbi. So easily could Aaron have been a woman instead of a man, but they made the choice to play up the HaHa Dean & Men card. 

Because, again, Dean has filled the slot of Woman™ of Female Lead™ and the flirting would’ve been straight if Dean was a woman. It’s a plot device, they needed to have the guest character be disarming, be cute, make the main character flustered. 

It’s just the main character is a man, because they’re allergic to women. But they still need those female plots, tools of femininity, to move their show forward. I mean I am a big subscriber to transmasc Jo (no idea if anyone else is with me on this one, but let me explain). Jo is in love with Dean (concept) not Dean (actuality). Which, we’ve all had our eggs cracked by someone like that. We were in love with them until we realized we just wanted to be them.

He loved her like a little sister, she loved him like a lost idol. He’s a golden calf and she dies for him, because she believed in him, she was the original character dashed at the altar of the Winchesters. 

I fully believe if she had lived and if this show had a crumb of actual good writing Jo could have been a deeply compelling transmasc character. But I also think she’s a fascinating inversion of Dean. Dean is a Masculine Character who subverts Toxic Masculinity, Jo is a Tomboy™ she’s not your (if you take it straight, literally and metaphorically) average female love interest. She’s angry, she’s not soft at all, all edges and corners and thorns. She isn’t helpless, she’s stubborn but not in a “you’re going to get punished for this” way. She’s right when she’s stubborn. She’s helpful, she’s a martyr. 

I could do a whole other essay just on Jo (and Ellen, and Ash, what a fucking trio!) but needless to say Jo was one of the first...plot device feminine tools sacrificed to this show. She was a regular, she was unique, she was an engaging character, and she still died (to progress the plot? no. for man pain? yeah, for like three episodes maybe, and then it’s forgotten just like the rest of Dean’s trauma, as we mentioned above). 

Dean and Women and Love is a very interesting tool used too because. Boy they sure try to make Dean love women and it fails in small ways, and in big, meaningless, failed het domesticity (again) ways. Not to mention whatever Lust (in the form of a woman) having no effect upon him, when they could have used that moment to assert his Masculinity and Heterosexuality. He behaved normally? And...also...whatever the fuck the Adios thing was!

Like they have these opportunities to make him Traditionally (toxically) Masculine, but make the choice to...not? To soften him. Because it’s a tool. He’s their female lead, textually he had to take on the role of mother(/father) to Sam, but...I mean this is a million miles long already. I know, but we absolutely can’t not talk about his Paternal/Maternal behaviors. (Which appear again and again again and again, outside of his relationship with Sam even/especially). He’s the mother hen, sage, safety net, beacon, home to so many side characters they meet.

I mean in many ways Jody is also a Dean comparison. Lost her family. Found a new family. She is non-traditionally feminine, but easily flustered and Silly™ (let’s just drop the entire sex talk over family dinner scene with Alex and the boys and looking to them for help, even though she was already a mother, and she’s a cop, and a hunter and this confident no nonsense individual.... She’s not). We are meant to see her as this hard ass, but she makes extra food for the boys to take back to the bunker. She’s deadly in a fight, but also still easily overwhelmed and put into damsel mode, and she cares so much even in the face of adversity.

It’s also fun to see how Jo | Jody are reflections of Dean at different points of his life. Younger, cocky | Older, settled.

Even when the text tries to tell us that he’s not.

When it reminds us that he’s violent. That he is his father, even if he says that Sam is more like John (which was reflexive, which was angry because of Adam and how Sam was behaving like Dean in that episode, and yes there are parallels to be drawn between Sam and John, the show barely dives into them). Instead we’re told that Dean is John (Again and  Again and Again and Again). 

So intensely that a fanfictionalized version of the Winchester Gospels makes it an entire fucking musical number. 

And yet, despite the texts insistence to make Dean Macho Man Father Reborn™ We get this Dean who is silly (and directly compared/contrasted to the female character in this scene), soft, in heels, nagging, and... Sully (you know Sam’s imaginary friend who has the same Haircut Dean has, who is a softer, shorter, friendlier, campier, version of Dean who was a replacement For Dean until the real one let Sam back in? That? Sully?) it’s hard to take them seriously. 

Hell, even when he was A DEMON? What did they do? They had him sing off-key drunken karaoke, they had him doing this ! Like that’s your hero, unhinged, free to be as bad as he could be, and you put him in a cowboy hat in a romance with the king of hell. 

The Female Lead, everyone. Who’s biggest betrayal(s) comes at the hands of his love interest (again, a man even though it was an angel who could’ve taken any vessel! who could’ve been recast, who canonically dies admitting his love to Dean - that one), who he tries so hard to be loyal to. 

The contradictions of his character are laughable. He is so emotional, but if he is engaged about his emotions? He shuts down, or he’s exasperated about being asked about them. It really is Female Lead/Only Here For The Plot disease, because everything is more important than him. How’s he doing? Doesn’t matter outside of the context of how x character is doing or that y character is dead. Or his emotions only matter if they’re done in penance. 

They also really do frame him as Pretty Boy™ in a violent way, or in a derogatory manner. They’ll give us homoerotic shots like this or these and never really acknowledge how these are gay shots. Sorry the gun scene is a a straight up sex scene, the beer sip spilling out over his mouth is oral, the scene where Cas fills up Dean’s glass with whisky is also a sex scene, they do this shit on purpose but accidentally queer it up. If Dean was a woman these scenes wouldn’t even matter. They’d be passing moments, but because he is not just a man but A Man™ they’re insane to see.

Not to mention all of these scenes and all the ones I haven’t linked where Dean dresses up. He performs masculinity, but he performs femininity too. He’s a plot device that is slotted in to whatever role they need. He’s Super Straight Butch Man™ but coaches the lesbian on how to successfully flirt with a man. He’s Action Hero™ who sits through a montage with the same lesbian and yays and nays her outfits, and enjoys himself.

Fuck he loves dressing up, he feels better in these costumes because performing a character is easier than being himself. Because who is Dean? He’s a tool, both textually and metatextually. It is exactly how the women and because of the women on the show that Dean is the way that he is. If there was a more steady female presence Dean would not be half as much of a plot device or half as camp/gay/feminine/non-traditionally masculine/queer coded as he is. 

In conclusion....

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn meta #spn #gender #anon #replies #messages #my writing #ANYWAYS PHEW okay anon i don't know if i even fully got to your point but i woke up at like 3:30 to this ask and i've been fixated on it #HOPE THIS IS EVEN JUST a little bit coherent #the way i meant for this to talk so much more about transness and eldest daughter syndrome and just FORGOT #oops #oh well

[whimsicallyreading]

Eight Second Ride

Part Three-

(Part Two)

“So you are telling me-“ Aedion scowls from the other side of her bed, “you ditched me for a sweaty bull rider and didn’t even last an hour into the date?”

Aelin shoves a spoonful of cookies and cream ice cream into her mouth and sniffles. “That’s all you got from my story?”

He slings an arm over Aelin’s shoulders and she lays her head on his chest gratefully. She’d caught an Uber back to her apartment where Aedion was already camped out waiting for her.

One look at her mascara smeared face, and he’d made a pillow fort on her bed. Complete with ice cream and “Little Women” playing on his phone.

“No, I got the whole chauvinistic asshole, bit.” Aedion stabs his spoon into the container and breaks up a particularly large piece of Oreo. “I just decided to focus on the part that doesn’t make me want to leave you hear and go and kill him right now.”

“I thought cowboys were supposed to be classy.” Aelin watched Jo play with her sisters in their attic on Aedion’s tiny screen. “Take city girls into the country to ride a horse and show them a bigger purpose in life, kind of shit.”

“Hallmark is such a liar.” Aedion huffs and squeezes her shoulder a little tighter. “I’m sorry, Lin. I know going out tonight was a big step for you. It’s a shame he acted the way he did.”

It was rare Aelin acted on a whim these days. Not like she used to do when she was in high school. She felt a pull to go with Rowan, but her gut had led her into a situation that could have gone south very quickly.

It’s a hard thing when you can’t trust yourself.

“No. I shouldn’t have gone. Especially not alone.” Aelin’s feels her thoughts drifting. Creeping towards that iron box of memories she keeps locked tight. “It’s my mistake.”

“No.”

The fervor in Aedion’s voice draws her attention up to his face, and Aelin is jarred by the intensity of his expression. “Aedion-“

“It’s not your fault.” His voice is gravely, and his blue eyes flicker like the heart of a flame. “I don’t give a shit what that bastard thought you accepting his invitation meant. You don’t owe him sex because he buys you a drink.”

“Aedion-“ Aelin tries to interrupt again. A new wave of tears burns her eyes, but Aedion is on a roll and he isn’t going to quite down until he gets out what’s on his mind.

“You don’t deserve to be treated like an object that can be bought.” Aelin can’t look him in the eyes any longer, but a calloused hand guides her face to the crook of his neck.

“His friends are shitty. He should have made them shut up. Ogling you, and making you feel unsafe and uncomfortable aren’t funny jokes.” Aedion goes on as Aelin sniffles into his shirt.

“You deserve respect. It doesn’t matter what you are wearing, what he buys you, or what his expectations are. His behavior isn’t your fault.” Aedion whispers against the top of her head.

Aelin wraps the arm that isn’t squished under her, around his waist. “I love you, Brother Wolf.”

“I love you too, Fireheart.” Aedion kisses her forehead and tugs her closer, the old terms of endearment are exchanged between them with ease.

“I know you are still dealing with everything that happened a couple years ago. I’m happy to remind you how worth it you are whenever you need.”

Aedion was an island of safety in the turbulent ocean of her life. Even when Aelin was small, she’d often go to him before her own parents with her problems. He was steady, and calm. The exact opposite of her own personality.

After the incident, he hadn’t rested until she was safely at his side again. Aedion stood by her faithfully as she picked up the broken pieces of her life and held her hand as she tried to make something new from them.

“How come you already had this movie downloaded onto your phone?” Aelin teased lightly, trying to lighten the mood. “Did you suddenly develop a sense of taste?”

Aedion purses his lips. “Lysandra said this movie is, and I quote, the most accurate depiction of the female experience.” He shakes his head. “I’ve tried to watch it three times, and I still can’t figure out what it’s even about.”

“You are a simple minded creature, cousin.” Aelin grabs her spoon and scoops a melty bite of ice cream into her mouth. “Thank you for coming over.”

“Anytime, Lin.” He leans his cheek on her head as the scene on his phone shifts from the cooler grey tones of the present, back to the warm colors that represented better days. “Anytime.”

~~~

The day started off better than she expected.

Aedion was gone when she woke up- he had to rise at an ungodly hour to make it to the fire station on time.

Yet, he set her alarm clock for her so Aelin woke up in time to get ready for work. He’d also set a glass of water and an Advil tablet on her bedside table to curb the headache she was sure to have from crying.

Aelin made it out the door with enough time to stop and get coffee on the way. She even splurged and got a chocolate hazelnut Frappuccino with enough sugar to smooth her wounded feelings.

It was going so well, Aelin should have known it was the universe winding up to screw her.

It was only a couple hours before she closed shop when Lorcan Salvaterre stepped through her front door.

“Holy shit, it’s you.” Were the first words from his mouth. His dark eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Rowan is going to flip when I tell him I actually found you.”

“What are you doing here?” Aelin’s slammed a stack of books on the counter.

Lorcan looked pensive. “Rowan said you mentioned owning a book store-“ he drags a hand through his dark hair. “I felt like I ruined his chance with you, so I thought I maybe if I apologized-“

“Let me stop you there,” Aelin didn’t bother looking at him as she labeled books and organized them into stacks. “You didn’t ruin anything, you didn’t help, but he screwed up all by himself.”’

“He realizes that,” Lorcan quickly defends, his voice gruff with irritation. “If I can give him your number I’m sure he will grovel for himself.”

Aelin rolls her eyes and slides another stack to the end of the counter. “You don’t get it.”

“Get what?” She can tell he’s losing his patience with her. Lorcan’s remorse only went so far, apparently.

Aedion’s words from earlier rang in her ears as she repeated them back to the man. “He was overbearing the entire time. Had double standard opinions about my life, and disrespected my boundaries.”

Aelin watched as Lorcan shifted on his feet, itching to say something but obviously refraining. Measuring his words carefully he looked her dead in the eye. “Look. He was just trying to impress you. Rowan doesn’t go out often. Don’t you think you are blowing this a little out of proportion?”

Red. Aelin saw red. Tasted it. Like iron in her mouth. Or maybe that was just the blood from biting her tongue so hard. “I’m working right now. You don’t strike me as extremely literate, but I have to ask for you to either buy something or leave.”

Lorcan glowered at her. “Fine.” He turns to walk out, but Aelin hears him call her a bitch under his breath.

Just then, Elide walks inside the shop doors. A backpack slung over her shoulder, finished with her classes at Rifthold U and prepared to work the evening shift with her.

Aelin is relieved for the interruption and about to take full advantage of it, when the small, brown-haired girl catches sight of Lorcan and beams like a rutting lighthouse.

“Lorcan! I didn’t know you were coming into my work, what a surprise.”

Elide. One of her best friends, runs up to the six-two tower of misogynistic cow boys and flings her arms around him. Hugs him.

Ellie she recalls the name being thrown out last night. She hadn’t put two and two together. Ellie was a common name. Of all the people in this city it had to be Elide, Aelin mentally bemoans.

She wonders if Elide knew how her cowboy behaved when she wasn’t around.

It doesn’t matter. Lorcan is all too aware of Aelin’s eyes boring into his skin, and knows he needs to make a quick get away.

“Ellie,” Lorcan pulls away from her. “I just had to see this book shop you are always talking about.”

He kisses her head, and looks at her with feigned remorsefulness. “I must have gotten your shifts mixed up in my head, though. I’m afraid I have to go. We booked a training time for six and I need to brush down Nettie before we start.”

“Oh,” Elide says, a look of genuine disappointment on her face. “That’s fine. Are we still on for a movie tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he promises. He pecks her one more time on the lips and tips his chin towards Aelin. Anger still bubbling in his eyes. “Good day, ma’am.”

Aelin releases a breath when the doors close behind him.

“I’m so sad I missed him.” Elide frowns, tossing her back pack behind the counter. “At least you got to meet him. What did you think? He’s absolutely dreamy, right?”

Aelin chokes back a gag. “Yeah. He was really charming.”

“And get this,” Elide smiles. “He’s a cowboy. Like an actual, real life cowboy. He rides pulls and does team roping. It’s sexy.”

Aelin can’t hide the grimace this time. “You are like my baby sister. I never want to hear the words sexy from your mouth again.”

At least, never in the context of Lorcan. They’d had plenty of boy talk before.

“He even carries a rope.” Elide wags an eyebrow. “Better to tie me up when we-“

Aelin holds a book over her face. “I’m not listening to this! I will file a report with HR.”

Elide laughs. “You are the boss, Lin. You know we don’t have an HR.”

“I need to get one now,” Aelin grumbles. “I don’t need an image of yours and Lorcan’s naked asses in my head.”

She wanted Lorcan out of her head entirely. Along with Rowan and the rest of their cadre.

“Fine,” Elide sighs wistfully. “One day you will be in love and I won’t hold it against you when you want to talk about whatever babe you wind up with.”

Her eyes get a mischievous glint. “Actually- Lorcan has some really cute friends. I could set you up with?”

Aelin’s brain banks. “No. No thank you. I like being alone. I’m more than enough company for myself.”

“Come on, a double date would be fun!” Elide whines and tugs on her arm. “You never go out any more. We could have a great night out.”

An image of the twins cutting lines on the bar flash across her mind and make her shudder.

“I said no, Elide.” Aelin says a bit more harshly then she intends, but Elide gets the point and backs off.

“Sorry. I won’t mention it again.” Instead of anger she looks at Aelin worriedly.

She kind of hates that more.

“Thanks.” She shakes her head and tries to clear the residual stress from her head. “I have to set up a new shelf display. Want to help?”

Elide lights back up at the prospect. She loved designing and organizing. They have a great time setting displays up together and Aelin knew it would take her mind away from the tension she’d created.

She just really hoped that Elide dating Lorcan wouldn’t drag any drama into her own life. Aelin didn’t care what half asses excuses Lorcan made, she wasn’t interested in seeing Rowan again.

Hello! I’m so glad I got this posted today. 😂 I’m hoping to get the next chapter of DRNS out tomorrow. After that, my birthday is next Tuesday and I reaaallly want to do a mass update of all my fics then as a hooray to 21. (Yes. That is what I’m doing for my 21st 🤣) Hope you enjoyed it!

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@rowaelinismyotp

[triptuckers]

Drained - Anakin Skywalker

Request: nope Pairing:  Anakin Skywalker x reader Summary:  The war is taking a toll on everyone, and you’re tired of it. Warnings: mentions of minor injuries (not reader) Word count:  1.3K A/N: I’m 2 followers away from 600 🥺 have this Anakin x reader because I love him so much, enjoy reading! 

Weeks. Months. Years. Time didn’t even feel real anymore. The war is still raging on, despite the Jedi’s best efforts to end it. You can tell everyone is growing tired of it. Though no one’s said it out loud, you can tell at least half of the smiles people give you are fake. 

You can’t help but to think it must be easy for the clones. Most of the times, you can’t even see their faces because of their helmets. They don’t have to smile reassuringly at everyone they see. 

But you’re a Jedi. You’ve got a handful of clones under your command. And they need to see there’s an end to this war, that they can win it, that there’s still hope. You can’t show the signs that are so obviously there. 

The only one who ever sees them is Anakin, and you even try to hide them from him. He has enough to worry about. The last thing you’d want, is for him to worry about you as well. You’re a grown woman, you can handle yourself.

You stretch your arms above your head as you walk through the halls of the Temple. Most Jedi used their time at the Temple to get some rest in between missions. You tried to do the same, but most of the times you were at the Temple, either Obi-Wan or Anakin and Ahsoka were on a mission. Resting was not easy when you are worrying about them.

Right now, you’re merely waiting for Master Yoda to tell you he’s got another mission for you. Anakin and Ahsoka are on their way back from a mission, and Obi-Wan got a nasty blaster hit on his last mission, so it was only logical you would be assigned to the next mission.

You’re on your way to the gardens. Your mind is often restless, and meditation is the best solution to it. Though you like your quarters, there’s something about the gardens that you can’t find anywhere else. 

You’ve almost reached the gardens, when you see a familiar figure in the distance, also heading for the gardens. You jog to catch up with them.

‘Ahsoka!’ you say, and she turns around. ‘When did you come back?’

‘Hello Master Y/L/N- I mean, hello Y/N.’ she says, correcting herself. You didn’t like to be called “Master Y/L/N” by your friends. ‘We only just got here.’ she looks at you, and answers your question before you’ve asked it. ‘Anakin is in his quarters. His robes got ripped he needed to change.’ 

‘Thanks!’ you say, and you turn and walk the other way, leaving the gardens behind you. 

You and Anakin had developed a habit of checking up on each other when one of you came back from a mission. It had started years ago, back when you were still Padawans. Somehow, it became a second nature to you. 

Everyone knew you and Anakin were close. Always checking up on each other, inside jokes, being able to communicate without words. Everyone also had the very strong feeling you and Anakin are a lot more than close friends, but because they couldn’t prove any of it, and nothing ever went wrong, no one would act on their suspicions.

You knock on the door of Anakin’s quarters and wait. A few moments later, it opens, revealing a very tired looking Anakin. He smiles at you and steps aside so you can enter. 

‘You look like hell.’ you say. ‘Good to see you too, Y/N/N.’ he says.

You walk up to him and raise your hand to his cheek, where a cut stretches from his temple almost to the corner of his lips. 

‘I’m fine.’ he says. ‘It’s nothing, just a little cut.’ ‘Hmm.’ you hum, and Anakin slightly rolls his eyes. ‘I know what hmm means.’ he says. ‘I was careful. No unnecessary risks. Sometimes stuff like this happens, you know that.’ ‘Yeah, I know it does.’ you say, dropping your hand from his cheek.

‘Thought you’d be on a mission when we got back.’ he says, moving to sit on his bed. ‘That makes two of us.’ you say. ‘I’m only waiting for Master Yoda to tell me where I’m going. I was on my way to the gardens to meditate, actually. But then I ran into Ahsoka who told me you were here.’

‘I think a nap would suit you more than meditation right now.’ chuckles Anakin. His eyes travel over your tired eyes and the heavy bags under them. ‘No offence, but you also look like hell.’ he says.

‘I’m fine.’ you say. Anakin raises his eyebrows in doubt. ‘Really.’ you say with a smile. 

Anakin looks at you. ‘I can see you’re smiling, but I can sense you’re not fine.’ he says. ‘How can I help?’

You look at him for a while. He’s waiting for your answer as you look at him. And then it’s like everything hits you at once, like a huge wave. Tears fall from your eyes and you feel your knees give out. Anakin catches you before you can hit the ground.

‘Hey, hey, hey, what are all those tears about?’ he says as he pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. You try to say something, but only sobs escape your lips. 

‘Shh.’ says Anakin softly. ‘It’s alright, I’m here, I’ve got you. Let it all out.’ 

You don’t know how long you sat there, until you finally pull back a bit from Anakin’s embrace to wipe the tears off your cheeks. You move to stand up, but Anakin doesn’t let go of you. You look at him and he smiles at you.

‘Let’s stay like this for a while.’ he says. ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’

You sigh and let your head fall to his chest. ‘I’m just so tired.’ you say. ‘Of this war, of fighting, all of it. I just want it to be over. I want to walk around the temple and annoy Obi-Wan like we used to do when we were younger. Use my free time to improve my lightsaber skills or just walk around Coruscant and go for a drink. Feels like all I know is war. It used to be different.’

‘I understand.’ says Anakin. ‘These days it feels like this war might never end. But it will. We’ll just have to hold on a little longer. At least we’ve got each other. And it’s alright if it gets too much sometimes. We’re all tired, you’re certainly not alone in this, Y/N.’ says Anakin. 

You sigh and lift your head from his chest. ‘How do you do it, Anakin? How do you hold on?’ you say.

‘Well, mostly because of you. I hold on for you.’ says Anakin. ‘Artoo!’

You look up when you hear Artoo approaching you, beeping happily.

‘Show her, buddy.’ says Anakin. 

Artoo beeps again before showing a holo. It’s an old picture of you and Anakin that Ahsoka took years ago. You look at it and smile. It was taken before the war, and both you and Anakin are smiling brightly. You two look so young. Unaware of the war that would start, sending you all across the galaxy.

‘They once reset Artoo’s memory, and I was scared to death that had gotten erased as well.’ says Anakin. ‘Thanks Artoo.’ The blue and white droid beeps once and takes off. 

You turn back to look at Anakin and smile. 

‘Now, that’s a real smile.’ says Anakin and he stands up, pulling you up with him. ‘You didn’t have to show me that, you know.’ you say. ‘Hey, you asked me how I hold on, that’s how.’ says Anakin. ‘Remember years ago, you made me promise to come back to you? I care about you, Y/N, and if it’s up to me, I’m never going to break that promise.’

‘You’re really amazing, you know that right?’ you say. ‘Eh, I try to be.’ says Anakin, making you chuckle. You move closer and wrap your arms around his torso. Anakin rests his chin on your head.

‘Can I stay here tonight?’ you ask. ‘I’ll leave early in the morning. It’s just that your presence is soothing.’ ‘Of course.’ says Anakin. ‘We could both use a good night’s sleep.’

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Jo

#triptuckers #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfic #Anakin Skywalker fic #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker imagines #Anakin Skywalker x reader #Anakin Skywalker x you #Anakin Skywalker oneshot #star wars #Star Wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #Star Wars fanfics #Star Wars fics #Star Wars imagine #Star Wars imagines #Star Wars oneshot #star wars oneshots #Anakin Skywalker oneshots

[timextoxhajima]

Love Me A Little Less: Chapter 9 - Obligation

LOVE ME A LITTLE LESS CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Member: (3rd person pov) arranged marriage au with Lee Juyeon

Genre: angsty wangsty

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @sunwoowuvbot​ @suzy-rainbow​ @miingxuxi​ ​​

“It was like Se Kyung’s eyes had been surgically transferred into another body. ”

Hesitation stops Kim Jo-Pil for a few seconds. He parts his quivering lips and takes a deep breath, then says, just loud enough for Juyeon to hear, “I made a mistake. One too big for me to dig a hole and throw it in.”

Juyeon’s frown deepens, and he hears the sheets shuffling in the bedroom. He reaches forward, pulling Jang Won’s door shut.

It is only in Kim Jo-Pil’s home-made office (also known as Jang Won’s second guest room) that Juyeon is surprised by the number of mini and portrait-sized canvasses painted by his wife. Just for a split second, Juyeon buys it. Maybe Kim Jo-Pil isn’t as horrid of a person Kim Jang Won thinks he is.

But it’s the picture of their family sitting on his desk that ironically turns Juyeon’s head around.

“What is all this? For show? For when Jang Won storms in and you’ll think she’ll go soft, seeing all this?”

Kim Jo-Pil lands himself in the sofa seat next to the bed, piled with files and documents and boxes, leaving Juyeon to stand awkwardly by the end of the bed, eyes scanning the mess in the room.

“You sound like her... after her mother passed and before I did.”

Juyeon’s nostrils flare. “If you don’t want to tell me why you decided to come back and ruin her life, so be it. I don’t need to stand here and listen to all your-”

“Younghoon wasn’t Se Kyung’s first child.”

Silence.

Juyeon’s heart halts in his chest. 

Kim Jo-Pil looks out the window, eyes looking in the distance where the city’s skyscrapers were kissing the sun. “Se Kyung had a child born out of wedlock before she married me. But they made her choose. The child’s life or her freedom.”

“Back then, The Board already had administrations favouring arranged marriages between families under the conglomerate. It was an easy system to keep the number of royalties under control. The cycle repeats itself. Two families become one, and a new family joins. Superpowers are reduced from two to one overnight, and The Board would never have to be worried about being overthrown because the supers would simply be too busy outdoing each other and seeking validation from the administration.”

“Did you know?” Juyeon whispers. “That she already had a child?”

“I knew... not because I was meant to, but because I wanted to. It was The Board’s annual Christmas Charity Event in the early 1990s and Se Kyung had gone with her parents, and I had gone with mine. She was sweeter than a daisy in a meadow full of flowers. She was polite, kind, and had a reputation for being the most stubborn creature on the planet, even then. It was one of the many things that Jang Won had inherited from her.”

“She spent her early twenties away from home, supposedly in another country working her way through foreign industries and making a name for herself. I didn’t know she had returned until my father told me that the Yoo family had chosen to merge with another - mine - I couldn’t be happier. One night, I decided to sneak to into their property and propose to her formally, way before the arrangements were to be made public. And... I heard it. The crying. Fighting.”

Kim Jo-Pil’s eyes fall. “She had returned with a child in hopes to bond her to the Yoo family. The father was a coward and ran once he had heard she was from a reputable family. Too much politics, too much money.”

“But the baby. Oh, the baby. Sweetest little thing I’ve ever seen in my life. My poor, poor Se Kyung... She was given the options: Marry into the Kim family and give the baby away, or her parents will have it dispensed like it had never been born.”

By now, Kim Jo-Pil has tears in his eyes.

“After we had Younghoon, something in Se Kyung clicked back to life. I remember the night she delivered him. The sparkle in her eyes that I fell in love with the day I met her had returned... but I knew for a fact that I needed to find her first-born, no matter the implications. It was the least I could do for her. By then, the child had to be a few years older than Younghoon and so, I spent the time that I should’ve spent with Se Kyung and my own children looking for her - the baby.”

“Se Kyung lost her parents in an accident the night Jang Won was born. She lost the worst nightmares of her life in exchange for a beautiful baby girl... so, what more could she ask for?”

Kim Jo-Pil sucks a deep breath. “I couldn’t find the child. I went to all the orphanages and the foster homes and by then Se Kyung had already fallen ill. Brain cancer - inherited. All I wanted was to return Se Kyung was her first-born and yet I did not deliver. When Jang Won was 16, Se Kyung passed. The last foster home that had taken care of the child said that she had reached a legal age to take care of herself. She could’ve gone under the radar if she wanted, changed her name if she wanted, and I’ll never be able to find her. Little did I know that she had grown to become much more of a person than I ever expected her to be, and she had been practicing advanced medicine throughout her college life.”

Juyeon is giddy from the influx of information, and so he braces himself when his own neurons piece the puzzle together.

“She was the one who revived you. The child.”

The elder shuts his eyes and lets the tears dribble over his lids.

It felt like a dream. The ache in his chest. The rough texture of gravel under his cheek when he collapsed. But Kim Jo-Pil opens his eyes, in thorough shock, when he realises he’s not in the hospital, but in some worn-down warehouse with a bunch of illegal medication that shouldn’t even be legally available outside of the hospital.

He had remembered the lights in the operating theatre, and even the sound of his slowing heartbeat in the drums of his ears.

So how is it possible that he’s-

“Ah, you’re awake! I was starting to worry that it didn’t work, Goddamn Narcan.”

Kim Jo-Pil tries to move, but he can’t. He couldn’t move a single muscle in his body besides his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The lights above him had been preventing him from seeing her face, and when he did, he swore he could’ve been snapped into two when he recognised her eyes.

She pushes away the lights and turns to remove her surgical equipment, the sound of latex snapping away from her fingers echo through the dismay of the room. She returns her attention to Kim Jo-Pil.

It was like Se Kyung’s eyes had been surgically transferred into another body.

“I’m Yoo Hye In, and I heard you’ve been searching for me.”

Exasperated and in disbelief, Juyeon runs his hands through his hair, turning to make sure the door of the room was shut. 

“Why are you even telling me this? How do I know I can trust you to tell me the truth?”

“Yes, because I have all the damn time in the world to be cooking up this story!” He gets up and pulls up his shirt, revealing a stitched scar right over where his heart was. “I trust you because you have no reason to backstab her.” 

He releases his shirt. 

“Other than Younghoon, I don’t know if anybody else in this system can offer her any kind of security.”

“How do you know I’m not gonna run off after getting half of HERA & ARTEMIS?”

“Because if you wanted to, you wouldn’t have been such a jerk to her over your wedding.”

Juyeon presses his fingers over his closed lids. His vision is blurred when he opens them. 

“Why don’t you just tell Jang Won about this? She can protect you. She can sieve out this... Yoo Hye In, give her what she wants-”

“Jang Won will never give Hye In what she wants.”

Juyeon can feel the edges of his lips curl downwards and his lids getting heavier from mental exhaustion. “...Hye In wants HERA & ARTEMIS?”

Kim Jo-Pil’s eyes can’t seem to leave the floor. He can’t help the dreaded feeling of failure drowning his conscience as a father, as someone who was rightfully supposed to protect her. 

“So, what’s your plan? Hye In wants HERA & ARTEMIS, and you know for a fact that Jang Won won’t give that up... like, ever. What happens if Hye In doesn’t get HERA & ARTEMIS?”

“Hye In will go to the press. Her existence being Yoo Se Kyung’s first-born out of wedlock will destroy everything this family has built. Hera’s Manor, HERA & ARTEMIS, Artemis...” He shakes his head. “Either gone or hers. She’s playing saint by not doing that directly.”

“But what does Yoo Se Kyung’s mistake have anything to do with Jang Won?” Juyeon seethes, inhaling such a deep breath that his chest hurt. “This is unfair. She should not have to go through this-”

“And you think I don’t know that?” Kim Jo-Pil’s lower lip trembles, a hardening gaze plastered to Juyeon. 

Heaviness blankets the room. Juyeon’s frown feels cemented into his forehead as he sits at the edge of the crowded bed, fingers on his temple. 

“Juyeon.”

The younger side-eyes the elder, cautious. 

“Once you’ve acquired Apple-Korea, I want you to buy all of HERA & ARTEMIS, then acquire Artemis Entertainment as well.”

“You know Jang Won won’t allow that.”

“Try. You’ll have the power to and she can’t exactly stop you,” He huffs, chest rising. “She doesn’t need to know yet. I will tell her the truth when it blows over.”

“’Blows over’? How is this going to ‘blow over’? You just said Hye In won’t give in until she gets HERA & ARTEMIS.”

“But she can’t fight for ownership if it’s the owner is not of Yoo’s descent. Which means once you acquire all of HERA & ARTEMIS-”

“Then she’s no longer a threat.”

Kim Jo-Pil nods. “But you will need Jang Won’s trust to acquire all of HERA & ARTEMIS, and she cannot know about Hye In before that happens. Once the order is out of place, Jang Won will stop at nothing to fight for HERA & ARTEMIS, not knowing that she’ll be fighting a lost war.”

“Jang Won doesn’t even trust Younghoon. How do you expect her to trust me?”

“Look at where you’re standing,” Her father turns, but doesn’t look at Juyeon directly. The sun kisses a single side of his face as his eyes scan the room. “You’re standing in Hera’s Manor, and you’re her first overnight guest in five years. I’d say you have a pretty good chance at earning the rest of her trust.”

Juyeon winces slightly, shutting his lids to process the information. There’s a grave sense of responsibility perched on his shoulders now, and the dread that lingers in the back of his skull when he thinks of Yoo Hye In strutting around in public makes him uneasy. 

Juyeon finds himself mindlessly heading for the dining hall, where Mr Ro was finishing up the preparation of the wide array of food on the side table. The butler bows, but it goes unnoticed. He pulls the chair back for Juyeon to sit, and eventually calls him a cup of coffee when he notices Juyeon’s lack of attention. 

“Mr Ro.”

“Hmm?” The chocolate-brown shade of coffee glitters under the light from outside. 

“How long do you think it’ll take Jang Won to trust me?”

Mr Ro pulls away, handing the pot of coffee to another staff. “Well, Mr Lee... that depends on what circumstance we’re envisioning.”

“Her life. Maybe something she loves, something she can’t live without.”

“So, a prized possession.”

“Mm.”

Mr Ro pauses for a thought. 

“Long, but play your cards right, and she will eventually trust you.”

Juyeon offers a strained curve of his lips when Mr Ro bows and returns to the kitchen, leaving him with a bunch of pastries that should be sold in some five-star hotel instead.

Jang Won strolls into the dining hall dawned in a gorgeous full-fitted set, make-up and hair done like she was going for her own press conference. Juyeon remains quiet at the table, only looking up once when she first enters, then he returns to spreading Nutella on his croissant.

“Jesus, do we not have anything from Younghoon or my father to let him wear besides those pajamas?”

“You lent me these pajamas, don’t make it sound like it was my bad choice to make. Besides, they are comfortable and cute,” Juyeon looks down at himself.

Jang Won gruffly scoffs. “Of course it’s comfortable. It’s made from Supima cotton. What do you think we are, savages?”

“Mrs Lee, I-”

“Call me that again and I will fire you,” She abruptly instructs, glaring at her butler.

“Ms Kim,” He corrects himself. “We have already called Younghoon’s fitters to bring by some wardrobe for Mr Lee before he joins you for the itinerary meeting.”

“Itinerary meeting?” She whips her head from Mr Ro to Juyeon, who was busy licking the Nutella off the knife he was using. “Don’t you have to be in the office or something?”

“And do what? Put myself in a situation where my parents can come to kidnap me home? No thanks.”

Jang Won leans back in her seat as the staff places a cup of tea in front of her, surprised at Juyeon’s enthusiasm with something that he didn’t need to worry about.

“Well, I have a doctor’s appointment after, so, you can come back home after unless you want to hang around old, dying people.”

“What?” Juyeon sneers. “What for? You look perfectly fine to me.”

“That’s because I have been going for these medical checkups, dumbass. I’m not gonna stand around and then what if I magically die of a heart attack- then what? Give you all of HERA & ARTEMIS and Artemis Entertainment? Pshht!”

Juyeon purses his lips - a terrible attempt at hiding his smile. 

Young Jin Seol [12.13pm]: Your father just dropped by this morning. He knows you’re at Hera’s Manor. 

Young Jin Seol [12.14pm]: He’s requesting for a meal, for him and Mrs Lee as well as you and Kim Jang Won after you return from your honeymoon.

He quietly locks the device, attention drifting from the messages to Jang Won, who was busy strolling about the office. The ride here had been quiet, for Juyeon had chosen to drive and Jang Won sent two guards to Kim Sunwoo’s residence to get her Mercedes back. 

Heavy and thoughtful, Juyeon thought. The atmosphere in the car was strange, and he can’t help but to wonder of Jang Won was even aware she had a nightmare (or a trauma relapse, or whatever you called one of those) earlier in the morning. Maybe it was the accustomed sight of Jang Won being as cold and rigid as a statue that makes it harder to bear. Juyeon fails, when he tries to restrain the ache that devours his chest, unable to remove the image of her crying and holding on to that mini canvas like it were her life. 

The door of the office clicks open and it steals both his and her attention, the tour agency officer bowing to the two tycoons with files in her arms. Juyeon stands, patting down his pants. 

“Mr Lee!” She holds out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you. Mrs Lee didn’t make your attendance known.”

Juyeon smiles politely at her, shaking her hand whilst admiring the distasteful grimace on Jang Won’s face at the address. 

“Please, just call me Juyeon, and my wife, Jang Won. We’re still not used to the new... salutations.”

The officer offers a low chuckle, turning to Jang Won and raising a cheeky brow. Juyeon’s left brow twitches when Jang Won’s grimace remains cemented into her lips, and yet the officer was still grinning like an idiot. 

“Do you two know each other?”

“Call me ‘Mrs Lee’ one more time, and I will murder you,” Jang Won seethes, opening her arms and pulling her into a tight hug. An exhale gets punched out of Juyeon, feeling somewhat at ease with the change in atmosphere. 

“I knew that would totally get you on edge,” The officer laughs, patting Jang Won on her back between her shoulder blades. Pulling away, she turns to Juyeon and bows, this time more candidly. “I’m Ki Hae Ri, your tour officer for your honeymoon next week.”

Watching Jang Won talk to Hae Ri was almost like watching her get possessed by a 13-year-old teenager. More than amused, Juyeon wasn’t even paying attention to the actual content Hae Ri was talking about regarding the itinerary - all he could see was the bright smile on Jang Won’s face. 

And for once, since the day he first met her, this smile was genuine. Her eyes are folded into crescents when she laughs and chortles and berates Hae Ri for every little detail she puts in the conversation to tease Jang Won. 

“And for you, Mr Lee,” Hae Ri’s voice snaps him out of his mindless admiration. “Jang Won here has told me that you like diving and so I must tell you that she suggested of doing Belize.”

The folder slides across the table, and Jang Won shoots Hae Ri a look of betrayal. Automatically darting his attention to Jang Won, Juyeon’s fingers trail the edges of the folder, a picture of the Belize Blue Hole printed on the cover page.

Clearing her throat, Jang Won looks afar, refusing to even face him. “So it’s an 8-hour drive, or a 1.5 hour flight from Guatemala to Belize. It was a suggestion in one of the itinerary sets anyway.”

Juyeon looks up from the 3-day Belize stay itinerary, noticing Hae Ri’s prideful, cheeky grin stretched up her lips. 

Back in the car, Juyeon’s hands are on the steering wheel, engine already churning and the air-conditioner blasting the coolness into their faces. Jang Won waits for some moments, before realising the amount of movement in the car - or rather, the lack thereof.

“Hello? Doctor’s appointment?” The edge in her voice is back and Juyeon can’t help but wonder just how she does it - being so cold and caring at the same time. “If you’re not interested, then you can just get the fuck out and I’ll call Mr Ro to come pick you up.”

Juyeon pauses for a moment, collecting the vocabulary in his head.

“My parents want to meet us for a meal after we return from our honeymoon.”

The whir of the air-conditioner suddenly sounds a little louder. 

“What for?” Jang Won snorts. “Is your mom planning on baking cupcakes and apologising for making this the worst decision of your life, even though it wasn’t even yours to make?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll have to go. They are still my parents.”

“What?” She criticises, her upper lip hooked upwards. “You ran away! From home! And now you want to just... bring a basket of fruits to a picnic with them just ‘cause they’re your parents? Ha!”

“Look, I don’t like it either, but if we don’t do this then they’ll just be bugging me forever and if that happens then I can’t do what you want me to do with HERA & ARTEMIS peacefully. If anything, they might just fuck shit up if they don’t have this meal with us.”

“‘Fuck shit up’? I’ll fuck them up-”

“We’ll go, and that’ll be the end of it, okay? Trust me, you don’t want them dipping their noses into our shit once we start with all the ownership administration.”

“’Dipping their noses’? Just who the Hell do your parents think they are? They don’t even own any of the companies related to the-”

“I know, God damn it,” Juyeon finally rebuts, patience running thin. “But they have power. According to The Board’s conglomerate, my family is on the same tier as yours.”

Jang Won huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and looking out the window. 

“Just... just this once, and they’ll go easy. It’s not worth picking a fight with them, I promise you. Okay?”

Jang Won struggles to remove the frown off her forehead. She knows it’s not his fault. She knows his parents are shitty people.

And yet, for some reason, she’s jealous that Juyeon even has parents to feel obligated towards. 

Destiny, prophecy, fate. You name it. Just what is it that makes things so complicated in life? Circumstances can be created, changed, altered. Jang Won can question God about how she ended up right in this very spot every day, but she won’t get an answer, ever. Juyeon can wonder why she had to be the one responsible for her mother’s mistake, and he’ll never know why either. 

Juyeon trails carefully behind Jang Won, slightly surprised that she wasn’t visiting the area’s best hospital for her medical checkups. Not that this was one was bad, but it was... affordable. Taking in the sights and sounds as he enters the main hall, Jang Won advances towards the registration counter and pulls off her sunglasses.

“Here,” She slides a clipboard to the side. “Fill this visitor registration form up.” 

Juyeon picks up the pen, watching her pull out her wallet and hand it over to the administration staff. 

“Hi, I have an appointment with Ms Yoo Hye In.”

Juyeon’s eyes dart upwards from the visitor registration sheet, pupils flitting between the administrator and Jang Won, who was calmly signing into some check in registry. He can feel his breath grow shaky and unstable and all of a sudden, Jang Won’s looking at him like he was the crazy person in the room.

“What? Are you okay?” 

He parts his lips to deny the question, wishing to brush it off and simultaneously, maybe convince himself that it was just someone with the same name. 

“Jang Won! I was wondering if you were going MIA today again.”

Ironically, his heart stops. Jang Won puts on her service smile and provides her doctor a subtle wave as the two close the distance between them. 

“Of course not. Gotta make my check-up down-payment worth it. I can’t run around the city working my work if I’m unwell, can I?” 

“Well, I see you brought the future director of Apple-Korea with you,” Yoo Hye In turns to Juyeon, eyes bright and her smile convincingly kind. Her hair was short, well trimmed, and Juyeon was almost in shock that he could see the similarities between her and Jang Won. 

The tycoon whips her head upon the silence, almost shifting to nudge him. “Juyeon.”

“No, no, it’s okay! No need to rush him,” Yoo Hye In grins widely, offering a hand to him. “I’m Jang Won’s personal doctor, Yoo Hye In. You can call me Hye In.”

#multifandomnet #destinyverse #ficscafe #juyeon scenarios #juyeon imagines #juyeon fic #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #the boyz fanfic #tbz scenarios #tbz fanfic #tbz imagines #lee juyeon scenario #juyeon fanfic #the boyz #the boyz juyeon #tbz #tbz juyeon #love me a little less

[layniapetrovnaaa]

DOFP Logan X Reader Smut

Summary: Logan travels back to the past and sees you, the reunion was not what he was expecting considering your history; but when you fail to stop Raven, you find yourself scared for the future and you feel the need for his love again.

Warnings: Smut, choking kink, swearing, mentions of drug use (just weed), mentions of alcoholism. The beginning is kinda shit, but I think I did good with the smut lmao.

"Laurie was a young lover, but he was in earnest, and meant to 'have it out', if he died in the attempt, so he plunged into the subject with characteristic impetuousity, saying in a voice that would get choky now and then, in spite of manful efforts to keep it steady...

"I've loved you ever since I've known you, Jo, couldn't help it, you've been so good to me. I've tried to show it, but you wouldn't let me. Now I'm going to make you hear, and give me an answer, for I can't go on so any longer."

"I wanted to save you this. I thought you'd understand..." began Jo, finding it a great deal harder than she expected."—the book slammed shut.

The noise wracking the school made it hard for you to focus on your book–one that you were thoroughly enjoying–so you got up an went to go investigate.

As you exited your room and walked into the hallway, you met Charles.

"What the hell is that noise?" you asked him, agitation lacing your voice.

"I have no clue." he sighs and the two of you trudge down the stairs.

You couldn't help but snort at the sight in front of you. Hank hung from the chandelier, while his victim lay on the table below him.

"Get off the bloody chandelier Hank." the professor, who stood beside you at the top of the staircase, spoke.

You had to cover your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from laughing.

Hank jumped down and as you walked down the stairs you recognized the man.

"[Y/N]?" Logan spoke, surprised to see you again.

"What? You know him?" Hank asks, slightly out of breath.

You ignore both of them and continue to walk toward Logan until you are standing in front of him.

SMACK!

"What the hell was that for?!" he groans, bringing his hand up to is cheek, replacing where your had just briefly been. You laugh bitterly.

"What do you mean 'What the hell was that for?' You left me!" your tone was raised and angered but not quite yelling.

Charles and Hank stood there awkwardly, while Logan stood there bewildered.

"I left you?" he asks, is tone completely serious as his hand slips from his cheek.

Your laugh was sarcastic, as was your response.

"What'd you just lose your memories all of a sudden?"

Logan flinched at your words, but didn't answer.

All you could do was shake your head and grumble to yourself as you walked back up to your room, not even inquiring what he was there for.

Truth be told he didn't remember leaving you. After what happen with Stryker and losing his memories, the professor helped him to get some back, but he could only remember bits and pieces of really important events or people, and you were one of them. But he still couldn't remember much, only parts of your time together, the best parts.

***

Hank sat at the edge of the bed, you were laying on your side, your back facing him as you fiddled with the loose strands of the blanket you laid atop of.

"We talked to Logan." he states blankly, and you don't respond.

"He needs our help [Y/N]."

You scoff at that.

"Oh please.” You murmur. "What does the oh-so-great Wolverine need our help with?"

"[Y/N]" he sighs "what I'm about to say may be hard to believe, but your just going to have to trust us." he pauses, then continues "Logan was sent from the future, he needs our help to stop Raven."

At this you roll onto your back and burst into laughter. Wiping a stray tear from your right eye as your laughter starts to calm down.

"Well, I was not expecting that." you state, sitting up and slapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks for cheering me up Hank." You smile before getting up off the bed and going over to your dresser to find a joint. As you are rummaging through your drawer he speaks again.

"I'm-I'm serious [Y/N]. Even the professor believes him."

You slam the drawer shut and start to search through your jewelry box that sat on top of the dresser.

"Well the professor is also an alcoholic." you state rather harshly.

"Please [Y/N], we need all the help we can get."

You let out an agitated sigh and turn around to face him.

"Fine." you point a finger at him "But if I find out that this is just some silly ass shit, I'll beat your ass.

"Yes ma'am." he smiles, his tone playful yet serious.

***

After coming back from Paris that night and watching the news saying that they had already gotten Ravens blood sample, you couldn't help but feel completely defeated. You were sure everyone else felt the same way as well.

You were so lost in your own thoughts, that when you stopped at the door in front of you, you only then realized it was not yours, it was Logan's. The door was cracked open just enough for you to peak into his room and see him smoking a cigar on his bed. After staring at the door for a few moments you decided to knock, then enter the room. He turns his head to face the door as he blows out a puff of smoke. You close the door behind you softly and he raises an eyebrow.

"Shut up." you scoff, and he cant help but chuckle as he turns his head back to face the wall in front of him and take another puff.

"I always loved the smell of those." you said softly as you walked over to the bed and sat down.

"I know." he hums as he removes his hand from from under his head to sit up against the headboard.

Your hand slides back and forth over the sheets as you stare into his eyes intently.

"Logan?..." you whisper

He puts the cigar out in the tray that rests on his bedside table. He moves to sit next to you and puts his hand atop of yours, which had stopped moving as soon as you felt his touch. The face he gives you is so sincere, almost as if he was trying to say: tell me anything and everything.

"In the future do I-" you lean into him closer.

"Don't. Don't do that to yourself kid." he says softly, but firm.

You eye his lips, and then they are crushing your own.

The kiss is passionate, so passionate, and warm. You had kissed Logan many times before, but none felt like this as he grabbed your waist, pulling you to him as close as he could given the position you were in. Your hands fly up to grip his face and push his lips harder onto yours. He balances himself on his left hand which rests behind you on the bed. Deep breathes and the smacking of lips can be heard as your mouths dance together in a sensual and loving way.

He pulls back and your foreheads rest against each other, your noses nuzzling gently.

"I'm sorry for leaving." he whispers and you can feel his breath on your lips. You pull back slightly to look into his eyes.

"I forgive you." you just couldn't stay mad at him.

The green in his hazel orbs shines bright and you wonder how you were able to live without him for so many years.

"Make love to me." you let out in a breathy whisper.

All he does in response is kiss you hard and lay you on the bed gently.

His hands travel all over your clothed body, stopping to squeeze and caress certain areas.

As his lips kiss your neck you are reminded of the first night you two had been physically intimate. It was 1953, you had gone to see the movie "Roman Holiday", it was cute. You especially liked Gregory Peck, and even though he still wouldn’t admit it, Logan was a little jealous. And so you two kinda just ended up just making-out the whole time. That's when he took you home and professed his love to you physically, and promised he would love you forever.

He sits back and pulls the dingy white tank top he was wearing off. You bit your lip as you took in the sight in front of you—Jesus—its like he was hand crafted by god himself. He leans back down over you, and fits himself nicely between your legs. Grabbing your wrists to raise them above your head as you continue to make-out.

God, could this feeling just last forever? The weight of him on top of you, consumed by his musk, and the way his lips made you feel as if you were as high as a bird, as if gravity didn't exist. 

You two sat up and you took your shirt off, having not worn a bra, you were completely exposed to him as he took off his belt and unbuttoned his pants. 

"Jesus Christ" he breathes, both his hands being immediately drawn to your breasts, he starts to fondle them and you cant help but giggle slightly at the enamored look in his face before he sits back and you straddle his lap. 

His hands caress your waist, up to your back, then down to your hips a couple of times as you starts to embrace his neck with your lips. Your hips start to move back and forth slowly, the friction almost killing you as you both let out soft moans and he grips your hips tightly.

“F-fuck” he stutters as you continue the sinful swishing of your hips. You pant softly at the feeling of your sweet spot getting some stimulation.

Logan grabs you and rolls you two over before getting up and taking his pants and underwear off, you do the same. He sits back on his knees in between your legs, admiring the sight in front of him.

“Look at this pretty pussy.” His thumb rubs up and down your thigh slowly.

You smile and bite your lip, captivated by the looks on his face, his eyes never leaving your core as he hums in satisfaction.

He leans back over you kissing your chest and flicking his tongue over your nipples. His hand slowly travels down and he starts rubbing your clit slowly.

“Aghh Logan” you moan, his middle finger dipping down to trace your hole, feeling the natural lubricant that excreted from it.

Slowly he starts to enter you with his longest finger, starting to move it inside of you. Feeling the influx of wetness he adds his ring finger.

Sighing and moaning softly into his mouth as you kissed. He always seemed to know exactly what to do to make you feel so good.

Once satisfied with how wet you had become he removes his fingers and you suck them into your mouth, remembering how that would always set him off.

His mouth hangs open as you look him in the eyes while your tongue flicks over his fingers.

Slowly he pulls them out and they release with a small wet popping noise.

“You always know how to make me fuckin’ crazy.” he groans.

His hands slide from your collarbones to your breasts, groping, jiggling, and smushing them together.

“I would die for these tits.” You laugh lightly at his statement before you bite your lip and reach out to grab his cock.

“I wanna taste you.” You hum, slowly stroking his member, maintaining eye contact as you knew that was something he loved.

“Another time baby, right now I wanna be in this tight and wet little pussy.” You release him, and sit back on your elbows.

Sighing erotically at his words you spread your legs further and he lines himself up at your entrance. He starts to slide in slowly, only going about halfway at first due to his size.

“You good baby?”

“Mhmm”

He starts to enter you fully, groaning as he does.

“Jesus fuckin Christ” he breaths, and you moan slightly, throbbing around him. You had to admit it was a bit uncomfortable due to his girth, length, and your size. But, it still felt really good having him inside of you.

He stilled for a moment after he had entered you to the hilt, feeling like it would kill him (in the best of ways) if he started to move.

Yet, he prevailed and started to set a relatively fast pace, one that made your breasts jump withe every thrust, and felt like goddamn heaven.

One of his hands took a hold of your wrist, lifting it above your head, his elbow digging into the mattress. His other hand flew to your throat and you let out and obnoxiously loud moan. Your free hand reaching down to stimulate your clitoris.

His breathing was heavy as his hips continued to buck into yours. Groaning and growling as well.

His pace slowed down for a moment and he gave you several deep, hard, and fast thrust, ones that made you grab his wrist (the one connected to the hand that was wrapped around your neck) as you squirm, moan obscenely, and dig your toes into the mattress sharply.

He starts to thrust into you faster again and he releases your neck and wrist. Running your hand down his toned abdomen, you feel the muscles tense lightly at each swish of his hips. Your arms wrap around to his back, your fingertips digging into the hard flexing muscles. Your mouth hanging open, moans escaping it every second, staring into his eyes as he fucked you.

He looks down and watches where the two of you connect and you squeeze him slightly, feeling his hips stutter when you do.

“Ohh shit baby, do that again.” You comply and he groans.

Its not long before you hear that saying you love so much.

“I’m gunna cum.” he moans out and you throb at his words. 

“Oouu fuck” you moan as his pace picks up ever so slightly, running your hands up to his neck, pulling him down to kiss you. 

You two separate and you can tell hes at his tipping point as he lets out a shaky breath.

A string of slightly high pitched, but throaty and guttural groans fall from his mouth and echo in the crook of your neck. Fuck, if that wasn't one of the most amazing noises you had ever heard...you didn't know what was. 

He stills as deep inside you as he can get while his high takes over. You moan at the noises he makes and the feeling of his load inside of you, just being completely stuffed full of him, and you squeeze him as he orgasms. 

Once he starts to come back to reality he kisses you in a dirty and sloppy manor, and pulls out of you. Your cunt clenching around nothing at the loss. 

He runs his hands down your torso before kissing your left rib, then putting his face right between your legs.

He takes a deep breath in and hums, savoring the delicious smell of your sweet wet cunt. You squirm and shutter in anticipation, remembering that this was one of Logan's favorite activities to do while you were together. 

He caresses your thighs a few times before finally giving you what you had been longing for so long.

His tongue circled your hole, dipping in a few times before flicking your clit.

He knew all of the tricks to make you absolutely melt.

He continued pleasuring you-- like no one else ever had before-- with his very skilled tongue.

“Auhh” you moan harshly as he inserts a finger into your sensitive core.

He never lets up, not even for a second. 

You never wanted the moment to end as you felt that feeling in your stomach build faster than you anticipated. 

“Oh fuck I’m close” you moan out, hips bucking up and down uncontrollably. 

“That’s it baby.” he growls, and holds your hips down so he can keep his mouth on that divine pussy. 

Finally releasing all of the wonderfully built up tension, you orgasm, and you orgasm hard. 

Everything goes white as you stay in your high for a solid 15 seconds. Your toes dug into the bed sharply as your back arched and you pulled on Logan’s hair. 

You become sensible again, and watch as he slides his finger out of you, licking it clean before doing the same to your overworked cunt. Flinching slightly as his tongue makes contact again. 

He gets up, and your immediate reaction is to tell him to stay. 

“You do realize this is my room, right?” 

You bite your lip and giggle slightly as he climbs into the bed and under the sheets. 

You snuggle into his hairy chest and let out a content sigh. 

Little did you know only a short while later he would be leaving just as before, never to see him again, until about 30 years later...

#hugh jackman #wolverine imagine #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader #smut #dofp #xmen dofp #xmen days of future past

[the-other-art-blog]

Did Amy really wanted to marry rich?

Amy receives a lot of hate for wanting to marry a rich man as if she were a gold-digger. And I get it, it’s wrong, even if she’s doing it to help her family. But it’s not like she wants to do it since she were a child or even as a grown up woman.

1994 adaptation has 12 year-old Kristen Dunst saying that she already knows she will marry rich. And 2019 movie has Aunt March placing this big responsibility on Amy since she’s just a child.

The book is quite different:

In Chapter 13 Castles in the air, all Amy says is that she wants to be a famous painter.

‘I have ever so many wishes, but the pet one is to be an artist, and go to Rome, and do fine pictures, and be the best artist in the whole world,’ was Amy’s modest desire.

She never says she plans on marrying rich or anyone for that matter.

Then in Chapter 15, she says this,

‘Jo and I are going to make fortunes for you all. Just wait ten years, and see if we don’t,’ said Amy...

These aren’t the words of someone who plans on living off her husband’s money. It rather sounds like a girl who plans on working to bring money into the house. She is the one who would make a fortune, not her husband. She’s going to earn it, just like Jo wants and just as Louisa and May did in real life.

Then, everyone thinks Amy went to Europe to catch a rich guy. Really, her sole purpose is to see if she has genius or not to make art. And even if she doesn’t have it, she plans on working. Like May, she wants to be an art teacher.

‘It isn’t a mere pleasure trip to me, girls,’ she said impressively, as she scraped her best palette. ‘It will decide my career, for if I have any genius, I shall find it out in Rome, and will do something to prove it.’

‘Suppose you haven’t?’ said Jo, sewing away, with red eyes, at the new collars which were to be handed over to Amy.

‘Then I shall come home and teach drawing for my living,’ replied the aspirant for fame, with philosophic composure. But she made a wry face at the prospect, and scratched away at her palette as if bent on vigorous measures before she gave up her hopes.

She doesn’t jump excitedly at the prospect of being a teacher not because she doesn’t want to work, but because it would mean she didn’t have genius to WORK as a painter. Cause yeah, painters are also hard working people! It takes a lot of effort to compose a canvas, A LOT of training. Furthermore, she would need to earn her place in expositions like the Salon and be a good businesswoman to sell her works.

The reason why everyone believes Amy planned on marrying rich is because of Jo.

Jo had just lost the Europe trip due to her own lack of self control. She bought it on herself. But it’s normal she is angry and bitter at Amy, so she says this,

‘No, you won’t. You hate hard work, and you’ll marry some rich man, and come home to sit in the lap of luxury all your days,’ said Jo.

I don’t even think Jo believes this completely. She’s angry, more with herself than with Amy. We all say hurtful things when we are in a similar situation, things that we end up regretting. Even if Amy has had luck, Jo has seen her working. Actually just before she learns that Amy got the trip, she acknowledges her virtues and apologizes to her,

‘I understand now what you mean, and I’ll never laugh at you again. You are getting on faster than you think, and I’ll take lessons of you in true politeness, for you’ve learned the secret, I believe. Try away, deary, you’ll get your reward some day, and no one will be more delighted than I shall.’

But Amy keeps defending her plan on being an artist or a teacher and even a patron!

‘Your predictions sometimes come to pass, but I don’t believe that one will. I’m sure I wish it would, for if I can’t be an artist myself, I should like to be able to help those who are,’ said Amy, smiling, as if the part of Lady Bountiful would suit her better than that of a poor drawing teacher.

Just as Jo always dreamed of opening a school for boys, Amy always dreamed of being a patron of the arts.

Back in the XIX century the image of the American girl traveling to Europe to get a rich bachelor was very common. Both Louisa and May traveled a few times, never with that intention in mind (even thought May did ended up finding love in Europe and Louisa had a quick rendez vous with Ladislaw). They were there to work and learn. And they both rejected that negative stereotype. May even wrote a guide for women who wanted to pursue an art education for real. So no way Louisa would have portrayed Amy as one of those women.

Ok, so in Europe Amy meets Fred Vaughn. Again, her thoughts never go to marriage until he brings her serenade! Honestly, she didn’t think of him as anything more than a friend before that. Was she a bit naive? Sure. But it shows that Amy didn’t go around Europe flirting with every bachelor on purpose. She knows how to flirt, she did it pretty well with Laurie’s friends and Laurie himself! So if she wanted to flirt with Fred, she would have done it consciously.

It’s until then that Amy realizes Fred has other intentions. Then she starts considering the implications of the courtship and eventual marriage.

It breaks my heart that Amy knows her family thinks of her as a cold person.

Jo says I haven’t got any heart. Now I know Mother will shake her head, and the girls say, ‘Oh, the mercenary little wretch!’,

And it’s when she writes those words that will condemn her forever by public opinion and by JoxLaurie shippers,

I may be mercenary, but I hate poverty, and don’t mean to bear it a minute longer than I can help. One of us must marry well. Meg didn’t, Jo won’t, Beth can’t yet, so I shall, and make everything okay all round. I wouldn’t marry a man I hated or despised.

Even then, she sees it as a duty. Her three older sisters failed to provide enough money for her family. Jo is in New York and she’s trying, but she sells her stories (which she doesn’t even like and cause her psychological distress) for only $20 each! No one else is willing to do this, so she must.

She sets firm on her resolution until Laurie reminds her of her family values. And later when they get married, she is ashamed that she ever thought of marrying for money!

So people thinking Amy is a gold digger who only cares for luxury and comfort, they need to stop looking at the story from the POV of a petty Jo. The story is not even told from Jo’s perspective, it’s an omnipresent narrator.

For god’s sake, would you like people to just hear the things others say about yourself, or would you want people to know you? Well, Amy deserves the same.

#i didn't think this post would be so long #i'll die defending Amy #amy march defense squad #amy march #little women #louisa may alcott #it sucks that Amy wants to marry Fred #but Jo and Laurie shippers go crazy because Jo rejected her rich neighbor #the hipocrisy! #the nerve! #fred vaughn was an pretty decent guy #he brought her serenade!!!

[scorsoneamelia]

HIIII!! i wrote something fun and cute about amelia bringing scout to work with her :))) 

           It was only two days, three nights without Link but according to Scout he has been gone foooorever. Scout says it’s been years since he’s seen his father, even though it has been two days and he even saw Link over Facetime the day before. He had to fly out of Seattle for a surgery because the patient wasn’t stable enough to travel to the orthopaedic surgeon, so Link had to go to them. Scout was upset, saying he hadn’t seen daddy in a very long time and that he missed him, so Amelia let Scout share the bed with her that night.

           She was woken up from the morning sunrise rays creeping through a space in the closed curtains, the little bit of sunlight managing to light up the bedroom. There was a soft breathing beside her and it was Scout, in the middle of the bed and curled into her side as if he didn’t have any room on the other side of the bed. The corner of the blanket was only covering his legs, the rest of his body uncovered and he was laying on his back. One of his arms was laid across his belly, and the other was laying flat above his head and his shirt was slightly bunched up, revealing his belly button.

             He looked so calm and peaceful, and his sandy brown hair was messy, pieces of it falling in front of his closed eyes. The day before, Scout refused to go to school because he didn’t want to, and his excuse would be because daddy wasn’t here, and that was all he would say when Amelia would ask why. It took her to promise him that he could join her at work for the day if it meant he would go to school, so today, as she promised, it was bring your kid to work day.

              “Angel,” Amelia whispered softly, sitting up from the bed and sitting up, her back against the head board. “Scout.” She said a bit louder this time, a free hand brushing through his hair.

               His long eyes lashes revealed his deep blue eyes, matching Amelia’s, (she likes to think he has her eye color, even though Link would disagree saying they both had blue eyes) and he was letting out a huff, before stretching his body out. “Good morning, angel.” She saw Link in him so much, and no matter how many people said they saw her in him as well, all she could see was a mini Link and it made her heart flutter everytime.

                “As I promised, you’ll be coming to work with me today,” she said, the corners of her lips curling into a soft smile. “But we have to get ready.”

                 There was excitement all of his face and it was like he forgot why he was so sad the previous night, because he was already jumping—-literally jumping out of bed. He squealed out a yay and was already running to his bedroom to try and find himself some clothes, even though Amelia knew she’d soon have to go and help him because the clothes he’d be pick would be awful.

                After the two of them finished getting ready for their day, they both stood facing the mirror and Scout was standing on a stool because otherwise he would have barely reached the sink. (His height is definitely from her.) Scout pulled out his own toothbrush and mirrored his mom, the two of them brushing their teeth and Scout was messy, but at least he was doing it. There was toothpaste all over his face and it was running down his hands and he wasn’t exactly clean when he was spitting it into the sink. He made sure to match his mom, brushing his teeth for the same amount of time as she did before they had to leave.

               She gave him the run down on the way to work, saying he had to be on his best behaviour because she was working and that sometimes her job can be busy. She’s never had an issue with Scout misbehaving but sometimes, his energy, especially when he’s excited, can be high and around patients she needed him to know that he had to be good.

               She didn’t have any surgeries scheduled today, she made sure that her day was light, a couple consults and follow-up on post-ops. Scout was going to be her lefthand, assisting her whenever she needed, or at least she was going to let him think he was helping her.

              He wore a white coat, Link’s to be specific, and he was drowning in it. It came down past his knees and the sleeves were longer than his own arms but Scout insisted he continued to wear it because it was his dad’s.

              He came with her on rounds, and she allowed him to carry around the tablet, it being too big for him to carry with one hand. They were stopped in between patients because nurses and other doctors would stop them, introducing themselves and because some would just squeal and talk about how cute he was.

              There was a consult in the pit that she got paged to, and she brought him along. He was no longer carrying the tablet, instead he put both hands in the front coat (very large) pockets because his mom had her hands in her coat pockets and he wanted to be like her.

             “What do we got?” Amelia asked, pulling the curtain open to reveal a patient on the table, a few scratches and bruises covering his body and Meredith was there, giving a consult as well.

             “MVC,” Meredith started, pulling her blue gloves off of her hands. “Has a head lac.” Turning around, she bent down to get eye level with Scout before he was giggling and throwing his arms around her neck.

             “Auntie Mer!” He was yelling now, excitement flooding his face. Amelia was examining the patient, using her flashlight to check his pupils.

             “It just looks like a mild concussion, but order a head CT to rule out any bleeding, just in case.” She told the nurse, her hand was put back into her pocket along with her small flashlight.

             “Dr. Shepherd-Lincoln,” Meredith nodded, a smile pulling at her face because the look of her nephew in an oversized white coat was too cute. Meredith could see Link in him, as well, but he had some of Amelia’s qualities.

             “He looks so much like Link,” Meredith commented before she stood up, facing Amelia. “He’s got your smile though.”

             Scout went to stand next to his mom, matching her posture, (trying to) with arms crossed over his chest, just like she was. Amelia looked down at him while Scout was looking between the two, happiness radiating from him. “He’s definitely going to be a heartbreaker.” Amelia joked, causing a chuckle to come from Meredith.

            “Mommy let me come to work with her today, instead of school!” He was cheering, his smile reaching his eyes.

             “Well, I think you’re going to have a lot of fun here!” Meredith replied, her smile was warm and her eyes met Amelia’s. They were both thinking the same thing; if only Derek were here to see this.

             After they shared their goodbyes, they were leaving the emergency room and making their way to the attendings lounge, because she needed a coffee. Upon entering, Scout was talking about her job as if he was a doctor, saying that he was the best worker in the whole building, better than her, too. In the attendings lounge they were met up with Bailey, Webber and Jo, who squealed and immediately stood from her seat.

             “Oh ..my ...god,” Jo said, pulling out her phone to take a picture. “He’s a mini Link!” Bailey and Webber adverted their eyes from each other, to look over at Scout who was smiling for the camera, the smile taking over his face and one arm of the jacket falling off of his shoulder.

              Pouring herself a coffee, she also grabbed one of the doughnuts that were provided and handed it to Scout, who looked like he had just won the lottery. “Someone is one lucky guy.” Bailey spoke up, walking over to the three of them. “I’m Miranda—Dr. Bailey.” She held her hand out as a casual greeting, as Scout’s small hand grabbed her and they were shaking hands.

               “I’m Scout!” He introduced himself, as if nobody in the building knew him. “Dr. Shepherd-Lincoln!!”

               “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Dr. Shepherd-Lincoln.” Bailey was laughing, Scout gently shaking her hand. He was making his way around the room, going up to each person to show them the flashlight he borrowed from Amelia, and showing off his jacket.

                She was watching him in awe, he was perfect. She never imagined her life with kids, but now she can’t imagine her life without him. It was crazy to her that it was possible for her— anyone, to love someone this much. Sometimes she could feel all of her love in her entire body, she just wanted to hug him so tightly and never let him go. He is her entire world.

               “Alright, well,” Amelia was heading towards the door. “We’ve got work to do.”

_____

                It was her lunch break, Link made sure to call at least twice today because he wanted to talk to Scout and he wanted to remind Amelia that he loved her. The two of them had rounded on her post-up patients, Scout putting a smile on all of her patients faces. For most of her patients, Scout would try and repeat whatever his mom was telling them although he failed because he couldn’t pronounce half of the words; nor did he understand. Amelia ended up finding a second flashlight and she let Scout hold onto it, shining it into peoples eyes at the same time she did it, pretending he knew what he was looking for. 

              At the table sat her and Scout, as well as Meredith and Maggie. Scout was telling Maggie about her day, and the sleeve of the jacket was getting into the ketchup and fries that was on his plate, and she’ll made a mental note to wash it before Link saw it. “Baby, let’s take Daddy’s jacket off before it gets dirty.” She was reaching over now, pulling the jacket off of both of his arms and placed it in her lap where it will be safe.

              Link called just before he had gone into surgery, mentioning that Jo had sent him the photos of Scout earlier and he made sure to tell Scout that the jacket looked better on him than it did on himself. So now, Scout was telling everyone that the jacket was no longer Link’s but that it was his. He told Maggie about how he looked into everyone’s eyes and how he helped her treat a patient (even though he didn’t), and he also told her that he was the best doctor in the whole entire world. 

             Before she had a chance to finish her lunch, her pager was going off and she was being paged to a surgery, her now light day not being so light. “I’m being paged to OR 3,” she was standing from her chair. “Okay, Scout, you’re going to have to stay with Aunt Maggie just for a bit because I’m needed somewhere and you can’t come with me.” She was glancing over at Maggie now. “That’s okay, right?

“Perfectly fine.” Maggie nodded and she was kissing Scout before she left, making her way to the OR. Scout continued talking about his day with Meredith and Maggie, completely forgetting about the french fries and hot dog that he begged Amelia for. 

#amelink #ameliashepherd #link and amelia #atticus link #amelinkfics #ameliafics #amelia #link x amelia #amelia x link #greysanatomyfics #greys anatomy #stories

[thelastraigeki]

Thoughts on Aging

I never thought that I would actually be making a post like this but I suppose this is something which I can say might help me with something we’re all going to confront in order to come to terms with or are trying to come to terms with it now. And this is something everyone goes through, and some embrace the idea of getting older and some are shy from it.

I am definitely in the latter group. When I created this Tumblr account, I was in my early to mid twenties. Definitely the age range where most millennials were getting Tumblr accounts and shitposting or sharing whatever interests them. As of January 18th.. I will be turning thirty four years old. The tail end of my early thirties and the beginning of my mid thirties.

I am not going to lie when I say this but I dread getting older. Why? Because I really didn't grow up per se. I still enjoy reading comic books and watching movies, I still love video games, I do enjoy Martial Arts and I still enjoy roleplaying. I don't believe there's an age requirement which says I have to stop enjoying these things but... there's this lingering feeling like I am no longer part of that demographic those things were aimed for.

I am driving myself crazy, Googling for answers to questions like "Is thirty considered old?" or "What age do gray hairs appear?" and I am having a hard time coping. I find myself looking in the mirror and comparing myself to how I was five, six, ten years ago and looking for noticeable changes. And they're quite a few.

Also, there's this sense of feeling that nothing was accomplished. If you're a millennial like me, then you know how difficult it was to find a job. Maybe it still is. I didn't exactly get a steady job until I was twenty six, working for Toys R Us but I made no money at that job from the second to third year. It wasn't until I got my job at Jo-Ann's that I started to make money in an effort to have enough funds to make a life for myself. But... working retail doesn't exactly pay what a person needs to survive on account that it's primarily part time, and only managers and supervisors work full time. And I had to scrounge up my paychecks as well as whatever stimulus packages just to a five digit number to put in the bank.

And then there's family.

I feel like I should have established my own family years ago. I see all my friends from childhood that already have kids who are either very little or are just entertaining into high school. I don't have that and... I want a family of my own but I haven't had a significant other since I was nineteen and chose to stay single. There have been attempts to start a relationship but ultimately went nowhere. I feel as I get older, I become increasingly unworthy. That no one will want me and I won't have any family of my own.

And then there's the immediate family I have, the only remaining family I have left being my mother as my father bailed out of our lives when I was thirteen because he started another family with another woman behind my Mom's back. Then there's my Mom's side of the family who more or less we are disconnected from. I won't get into that story...

Point is my Mom is the only family I have left. And just recently I noticed age spots on her hands. And that hurt me as her son because it's a reminder that she had at the most, if she's lucky, another thirty years in her left. And whatever remaining youthfulness she has is fading... She's in her 60's but looks as if she can pass for her mid to late 40's. But... seeing her getting older hurts because I know she's not going to be around forever.

And we get to the finality of it.

Death.

I see aging as getting closer to that inevitable and unpleasant end that we've all got to come to terms with. I am terrified. Why? Well... the issue with that is I don't know if there's anything after. I like existing, I like being who I am. I would hate to know and realize that after the body dies, there's nothing. We just cease to be. That there's nothing but blackness. That there's no afterlife. That there's no comfort of continuing in a higher plane where all our friends and family are waiting for us. That absolutely TERRIFIES me.

I've become a bit frustrated with this and often recall on things like Ghost Hunters where people record EVPs and footage of the paranormal or Celebrity Ghost Stories where celebrities often recall their own experiences with spirits and ghosts. I also recall documentations of reincarnation, on how there was a little boy named Ryan Hammons who claimed that he had the memories of Marty Martin, a Hollywood actor and extra and was mostly spot on with the details of this individual whom he claimed had the memories of. Now, whether or not the afterlife, ghosts or reincarnation are things which exist and is real... I don’t know, but I absolutely would hate it if there was nothing to us when our physical selves die.

I’ve also been thinking about the concept of immortality, and while I know it’s biologically impossible for human beings-- I often ask myself if living forever is a blessing or a curse, and to my surprise a lot of people tell me that they don’t want to live forever. I would only accept Immortality if it was under the Highlander rules because at least there would be a way out, even if it is gruesome.

I’ve rambled enough. I’ve been meaning to put this up for a long time, and I think this has been in my drafts for a few months to maybe even a year because I wanted to put my thoughts in order and down somewhere.

I suppose... I’m upset and angry that this is the way things HAVE to be. I love existing, I love being alive and young... These changes I face just terrify me, I suppose.

#Aging #Mortality #Afterlife #Ramblings #Personal

[ollieofthebeholder]

For We Are Afar With the Dawning: A RQG Fic

Also on AO3. Contains spoilers for Episode 207.

Augusta is floating. Both literally and metaphorically.

Mentally, she’s floating on a peachy-pink cloud of euphoria and warmth and happiness and contentment. It’s an absolutely perfect day, the kind of day she never gets to experience anymore. The sky is a clear blue dotted with puffy white clouds, the sun bright enough to illuminate the scene but not so bright to hurt the eyes, and it’s pleasantly warm without being oppressively hot. The gentle, cooling breeze brings with it the faint scents of something floral; Augusta’s never been all that great with scents per se, but she thinks it might be roses or something.

Physically, she’s in a rowboat in the middle of a glassy lake, lying on her back with her arms folded contentedly over her chest and her head resting on a lap that seems to mostly comprise of white illusion. Augusta herself is wearing a loose-fitting lawn shirt and a pair of trousers, her feet bare. A pair of oars rest in the locks on either side, but nobody is using them.

“You know, Gus, I think you’re going to have a curly crop when this grows out a bit.” Delicate fingers run through Augusta’s delightfully short hair. “You’re going to look quite rakish.”

“Just so you don’t try to get me to wear one of those dreadful outfits you were talking about that boy wearing in your book.” Augusta smiles. “Really, Lou, where’d you come up with that? Nobody actually dresses like that.”

Louisa laughs. “I wanted it to be really clear that there was no way Jo would ever fall in love with him. Why would she love someone who dresses like that?”

“You should have given one of the girls who came to the Christmas play a name,” Augusta says. “And a personality. And a reason to come back.”

“Are you suggesting I should have put you in the book after all? I thought you didn’t like publicity, O Best Beloved.”

“I don’t like being tied to my brother. Being tied to you is different.” Augusta punctuates this by reaching up and twirling a strand of Louisa’s dark hair around a finger.

Louisa swats her hand away, but she’s laughing again. “Are you going to row us back to shore at any point? Mary and Emma should be here soon. Your Sasha was going to take the carriage and go get them.”

“She’s not my Sasha,” Augusta protests.

“She could be, if you asked, I’m sure. You know we’re all just yours for the asking.”

“Oh, stop it. That’s not how this works.”

“You can’t tell me the idea doesn’t appeal to you,” Louisa says relentlessly. “Having your own personal harem of beautiful and brilliant women. Mary for those delightful scientific discussions and Emmuska for solving puzzles and mysteries and Sasha for going on daring adventures and robbing tombs with and me for...well, when you want to be lazy and bored, I suppose.”

“Louisa May Alcott.” Augusta sits up and takes both of Louisa’s hands in hers. “You have no idea how happy I am. Right here. With you. I don’t need anyone else. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Sasha and Mary and Emmuska and I love having them around...and you’re right, Sasha’s so much fun to go poking around places we aren’t wanted with. But if none of them were here, I’d be happy just the same. Maybe more so. Being with you?” She brings Louisa’s hands up and kisses them tenderly. “This is perfect.”

Louisa blushes beautifully, but there’s a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to row back to shore.”

Augusta laughs. “You wound me. Right here.” She places one hand over her heart.

She’s joking, but suddenly, it feels like Louisa—or someone—has wounded her. There’s a sudden, sharp, stabbing pain in her heart, and the last thing she sees is Louisa’s sparkling eyes and sweet smile before the world goes white.

It resolves after a moment. Now instead of sitting in a boat, Augusta is sitting on a rock in a clearing in a verdant  forest. Looking up, she can see the night sky and the stars, so many stars, more than she’s ever seen, and the sweep of the Milky Way looks almost green. The moon shines down on the clearing and illuminates her.

Augusta looks down at herself. She’s wearing more practical clothes now—boots, trousers, tunic, leather jacket—actually, it’s a lot like what Sasha Rackett wore when Augusta first met her, nearly two years ago now, except newer and neater. Across her lap is a well-made crossbow.

A big beast swoops overhead, one Augusta can’t identify (she grew up in a city and the only kind of hunting really considered proper for young ladies of her station was foxhunting). A moment later, there’s a rustle in the undergrowth, and a figure pops out into the clearing, a short figure with outsize ears and a drawn bow.

“Wotcher,” the figure says. “Seen a big beastie go by here?”

“It went that way,” Augusta says, pointing the direction she saw the beast fly. “What is it?”

The hunter—she presumes—shrugs. “Dunno. Still haven’t figured it out. Haven’t caught it yet. Maybe once I do, I’ll know. For now I just call it The Beast.”

He doesn’t seem particularly put out by this. He has a hunt, and what exactly he’s hunting doesn’t seem to matter much; he’ll find the answers when he finds the beast. It’s something Augusta feels an odd kinship towards. “How long have you been hunting it?”

The hunter shrugs again. “Dunno. What year is it?”

Augusta tells him. The hunter draws in a breath, then nods. “Well, then...two thousand years, give or take a couple hundred.”

“Ah.” Augusta looks around her. “We’re dead, then.”

“Probably, yeah. Well, I know I am. You probably are too. What were you doing?”

Augusta thinks for a moment. “Dreaming.”

The hunter snorts. “Not the best way to go out.”

“It’s not like I chose to go out that way. I’d rather have gone down fighting.”  Augusta sighs. “At least it was a pleasant dream, though.”

She touches her chest, out of habit, and has a moment of panic when she can’t find what she’s looking for. Frantically, she scrambles at her neck until she finds the fine chain, then pulls it out and breathes a sigh of relief when the heavy silver locket lands in her palm. Just to be sure, she pops it open, and Louisa’s eyes stare back at her.

Augusta smiles back at the picture, then looks up to see the hunter staring at her inscrutably. She coughs and closes the locket. “Sorry. Just...checking.”

The hunter reaches into his own clothing and pulls out a photograph, but doesn’t show it to her—which startles Augusta, as she didn’t think photographs were that old—before putting it back. “It’s important to hold onto these things. Until you find them. Everything dies, after all.”

“That...probably shouldn’t be comforting, and yet…” Augusta takes a deep breath. “Everything does die, doesn’t it? I don’t know that this is exactly her idea of paradise, though.” Then again, she hadn’t realized it was hers, either.

The hunter shrugs. “Probably not theirs, either. But they all connect. I’ve got a camp set up.” He gestures off to one side. “Check in there every few...decades, maybe. Just to see if they’re there yet. It’ll be nice to have a home to come back to, someday, but for now...there’s the hunt.”

Augusta considers that as she tucks the locket back into her shirt, then looks down at the crossbow on her lap. “I’ve never really hunted in forests before, but I’m not bad at hunting in general.”

“I’d be willing to teach you some tactics. If you’re interested. Just until we both find what we’re looking for.”

Augusta stands up, shoulders the crossbow, and holds out her other hand. “My friends call me Gus.”

The hunter grins, red eyes sparkling, as he accepts her handshake. “Grizzop.”

~*~*~*~

Sumutnyerl soars, buoyed up by a thermal, then banks to one side and swoops low, skimming over the grass. This is their favorite form; they love to fly, and it’s a perfect day for it.

Beside them, another eagle tacks and swoops playfully, then sheers off. Sumutnyerl beats her wings to gain a bit of altitude and follows. For a moment, they race one another straight up into the air. Then the other eagle dips backwards into a loop. Sumutnyerl screeches in delight and goes into a spiraling dive, weaving around the other.

They continue this sky-dance for several minutes before the other leads up to the branches of a tree; Sumutnyerl follows and lands on a branch, then transforms back. They’re already laughing with delight. “I never get tired of that.”

“Nor should you.” Oblaitko smiles warmly, their eyes soft and kind. “The day one grows accustomed to the gifts that have been given is the day one ceases to live and begins to only exist.”

“I mean doing it with you.” Sumutnyerl looks out over the rolling meadow. “I would that we could do this forever.”

“We can,” Oblaitko answers. “Our duties are...light. And not incompatible. We needn’t go back to the town at all. You can attend to the Garden, I to the River, and we can spend the rest of our time here.”

Sumutnyerl considers. The idea is...not unwelcome. She feels an utter sense of peace here, with Oblaitko by their side. More than that, they feel like herself, like an individual and not just part of a collective.

“I would like that,” they say at last. “Very much.”

Oblaitko tucks a strand of Sumutnyerl’s hair behind their ear. “As would I.”

“A bargain, then.”

“A bargain,” Oblaitko agrees. “We can ask permission in the morning, but I hardly think the Council will object. It will save resources, after all.”

Sumutnyerl sighs and leans their head on Oblaitko’s shoulder. They place their arm around her shoulders and pull them close, one hand idly resting over their heart.

For just a second, Sumutnyerl wonders if Oblaitko is concealing a blade, because they suddenly feel a sharp, stabbing pain in their chest. They look up in shock, but there’s nothing on Oblaitko’s face to indicate they’re doing anything...and then the world goes white.

When Sumutnyerl’s vision clears, they are no longer in the branches of a tree, but somewhere else, somewhere far too familiar. Awareness settles on Sumutnyerl’s shoulders as they look around the Garden of Yerlick, but not as it is in life—currently or under ordinary circumstances. The flowers bloom as they past, trees put out their hands like old friends, and the spirits of the dead are instantly visible, smiling and calling to them.

Ah. This again.

“Sumutnyerl?”

Sumutnyerl turns and smiles again. Oblaitko stands before them once more, not in the same form as a moment ago—no longer young, their hair white, their back bent with age and the weight of their position—but their eyes are the same warm, kind brown they have always been .Right now, they are wide with shock and not a little sorrow.

“Hello, my dear friend,” Sumutnyerl says.

“Sumutnyerl,” Oblaitko says again. “Why...how are you here? Like this? You—you mustn’t. It isn’t your time.”

“Perhaps not,” Sumutnyerl agrees. They touch their heart, where the phantom pain is fading fast. “I—I believe I may have been stabbed in my sleep.” Like Nik, they think, with a mingling of regret and anger.

“You will be given another chance.” Oblaitko states this quite calmly, as if it is a given fact rather than an opinion...or a hope. “The Garden needs you. Our people need you.”

“Perhaps I shall be given the offer,” Sumutnyerl replies. “And...perhaps I will accept. But...well. There is much that has happened. Perhaps if I am not needed...perhaps if my last great task has been fulfilled after all…” They hold out their hands. “Would you allow me to stay?”

Oblaitko takes Sumutnyerl’s hands, and stares into their eyes, and no other words are necessary.

~*~*~*~

Hamid knows, on some level, that he’s dreaming, if only because Zolf isn’t really one for parties. That doesn’t stop him from being happy, though. Hamid’s sleep for the past few months has been dreamless at best, teeming with nightmares more commonly, and occasionally non-existent at worst. A part of him has started to believe he’ll never have beautiful dreams again, so the fact that this is a good dream means he’s going to enjoy it for all it’s worth.

And the others all look happy, too. Aziza sings beautifully, her eyes sparkling and face expressive, and her husband gazes on her with a proud, adoring smile. Saleh, his wife, and Hamid’s mother are listening to Oscar tell some story, gesturing dramatically with his drink, his other hand being occupied holding Zolf’s. Zolf has a faint smile on his face as he listens to a story he’s probably heard a hundred times—hell, it’s probably one he was there for, those are Oscar’s favorite stories after all—but that he never gets tired of hearing Oscar tell. Hamid’s father looks more relaxed and content than Hamid has seen him...well, ever since he started paying attention anyway, deep in conversation with Saira and Apophis. Azu, wearing the gown she and Hamid designed together for the opening of the so-called Bow Bar, is making a valiant effort at letting Ismail teach her one of the fancy dances he’s learned, while Ishaq enthusiastically does the same with Cel. Skraak and Grizzop have become fast friends, which Hamid isn’t surprised by, and he wonders what they’re talking about and if he’s going to have to help Zolf clean it up later.

Hamid dances. He loves to dance, almost as much as he loves to fly, and he doesn’t really mind that he doesn’t have a partner at the moment. As he spins, putting in one of the fanciest twirls he knows, he catches Sasha’s eye across the room and grins; she grins back and shoots him a double thumbs-up.

Hamid starts in Sasha’s direction. She’s so good on her feet, he thinks, she’ll be really good at dancing, and she’ll love it. Aziza’s just wrapping up the song she’s currently working on, and Hamid’s pretty sure she’s going to go into the aria from Act I of Carmen, which was her first leading role and one she’s quite proud of. Hamid knows with absolute certainty that Sasha will kill it at a tango.

Before he gets to her, he passes his mother and gets a kiss on the cheek. Saleh gives him a friendly poke in the chest as he passes, which actually hurts a lot more than Hamid is expecting, but he tries to laugh it off, especially as Saleh is laughing, too.

Zolf turns to face him. Letting go of Oscar’s hand, he reaches over and touches Hamid’s forehead with one thumb. He’s still smiling a little, and the look in his eyes is one he hasn’t given Hamid in a long time—not since the beach south of Calais, after they survived the storm sailing from Dover. It warms Hamid all the way to his toes.

“It won’t end this way,” he says, and while he sounds like he’s talking at an ordinary volume, Hamid somehow gets the feeling that nobody can hear Zolf’s words but him. “I won’t let it. Your heart’s too big to be destroyed by something like this.”

Hamid feels simultaneously stronger than he has in ages and like something’s being sucked out of his lungs. His wings unfurl from his back before he completely registers that the music is gone.

He blinks. Someone is holding him—it feels like Cel—and it’s dark. The memory of the lights dimming and then going out comes to him...and they’d been heading to the lab, he remembers, because of the tunnel, but what—?

Zolf’s voice comes from not very far in front of him. “Get in in the door, and get safe.”

Hamid blinks again. That’s an order, they’re in the field—he promised he would follow Zolf’s orders in the field, so even if he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, he’s going to do what he’s just been told and he can ask questions once they’re all safe. Surely Zolf will be right behind him.

He takes in a breath to acknowledge his instructions—and sucks in a lungful of sweet-smelling gas. Instantly, he drops unconscious back into Cel’s arms.

He blinks and he’s at the party again. Zolf is still standing in front of him, smiling as he turns back to the conversation—did he leave for a minute? No, surely not, Hamid’s been here the whole time, he thinks fuzzily.

The song wraps up on a triumphant sting, and there’s a smattering of polite applause, and then just as Hamid suspected, the music starts up and it’s “L’amour est un oiseau rebelle” from Carmen. He hurries over to Sasha and holds out a hand. “Sasha, come on, you’ll love this!” he cries.

Laughing, Sasha takes his hand and lets him pull her onto the ballroom floor. She’s a natural at the tango. Hamid would never have dared ask anyone else to do this dance with him; it’s a fiery dance of passion, usually, but this is Sasha and she’s just his favorite sister, as far as he’s concerned, even if she’s not his sister by blood. There’s no romance behind what they’re doing here, no heat. They’re just two kids having fun, really, laughing and taking increasingly flamboyant chances with the flashier moves.

He ends the dance by dipping her, somehow, despite the fact that she’s two feet taller than he is, but they’re both flushed and laughing and having a great time. It doesn’t even matter that they overbalance and fall onto the dance floor. Nobody’s really watching them anyway, which is just the way Hamid wants it right now. He doesn’t have to be the center of attention all the time. Not even most of the time.

“I like your wings,” Sasha says, poking one of them, and when did they come out? Hamid genuinely can’t remember. “This ‘cause you’re a Meritocrat?”

“I’m descended from a dragon,” Hamid corrects her. “I’m not a Meritocrat.”

“Good. But the wings are cool anyway. Do they work?”

“Oh! Yes. Want to see?” Hamid gets to his feet and manages—somehow—to pull Sasha up too. “I can cast fly on you and we can—”

“No,” Sasha interrupts, surprising him. She pulls him into a tight hug, and, oh, Sasha gives the best hugs. Hamid’s always suspected she would, but she’s always been iffy about being touched. If his wings hadn’t already popped out with joy—apparently—they would be bursting out now. He hugs her back just as tightly as she lifts him off the ground with the force of her embrace..

“Don’t you give up, Hamid,” she says in his ear. “Don’t you do it. There’s no dream so good it’s worth losing the whole world for. You get back out there and you fight to make the world this good. Because this right here? This is worth fighting for.”

Just a little of the euphoria peels back from the edges of Hamid’s mind, and he clings to Sasha a little tighter. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

“’M always with you, mate. Just like you were always with me. We’ll meet again. But right now, you’ve got to go save the world for me.” Sasha pulls back enough to smile at him, and her eyes are wet. “Make it a good one.”

Hamid’s eyes snap open.

~*~*~*~

If you had asked Oscar even a year ago, he would never have described this as the most perfect moment of his life. He would have said that the most perfect moment he could imagine is a gala celebrating the opening of his greatest work, a play that will be talked about through the ages and mean his name lives on long after he does, resplendent in his finest clothes, a rapt audience listening to him declaim his opinions—finally being the center of attention for art instead of admin.

But no. He enjoyed that, yes, and he’s looking forward to reading the description of it in the newspapers. But the truly perfect moment is this one. Just a simple, quiet family breakfast the morning after.

Azu is at more or less the opposite side of the round kitchen table they’re using instead of the formal dining table, nursing a hangover bigger than she is; she’s got a glass of tomato juice and a cup of strong black coffee and isn’t really talking to anyone. Cel is scribbling on a piece of paper and muttering under their breath, probably trying to improve or refine the special effects they and the kobolds designed and built for the production. Zolf presides over the stove as usual, his beard done up in one of the intricate braids he only does when he’s in an especially good mood and his shirtsleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. Sasha stands a little way down the counter, beaming as she slices and chops meat and vegetables for him; she’s the only one Zolf allows to help him in the kitchen, and even then only on special occasions. Hamid sits to Oscar’s left, a pile of newspapers between them, his pre-breakfast snack actually half-forgotten at his elbow.

“The reviews look really good, Oscar,” he says, sounding almost as delighted as Oscar feels as he hands over the Times, folded back to the Arts page. “All the criticisms I’ve seen so far have been about the acting, not the play itself.”

“I told you to cast Barnes in the lead instead,” Zolf calls from the stove.

“Not my call, darling. I’m not the casting director.” Oscar reads the article Hamid is handing him, a broad smile blooming across his face as he reads. Hamid’s right, the reviews are glowing, and this is from a critic who’s notoriously hard to please. A particular phrase about halfway down the column catches his eye: Wilde’s masterful words and turn of phrase makes even Johnson’s leaden performance turn to the purest gold.

Turning a few pages on, Oscar opens the society page and is delighted to see that most of it has been given over to a description of the party celebrating the opening. There are even a couple of pictures accompanying the article, and Oscar very carefully folds the paper back so that one of them is more fully visible—Oscar at the center, smiling broadly and holding a drink in one hand, his other arm draped around Zolf’s shoulders, the others arrayed around him looking pleased and proud.

“Have you thought about your next project?” Cel asks, looking up from their notes.

Oscar shakes his head before Cel can launch into an elaboration of the question. “No, not yet. I think I’ll take some time to see how this one does first. It may have opened well, but that doesn’t mean it will end well.” He sighs, a bit dramatically but not entirely put-0n. “Things so rarely do.”

“Things rarely stay good the whole time they’re happening, but that doesn’t mean they won’t end well,” Azu points out. “We got here, didn’t we?”

“And you’ve earned it,” Hamid adds encouragingly. “Happy endings feel a lot better when you have to work for them.”

“Cheers to that.” Sasha tosses her knife into the air; it flips four times and then returns to her hand without her even looking at it, and she goes back to her chopping.

“Have a bit of faith, Wilde,” Zolf chides him.

Oscar smiles fondly at his dwarf as he sets aside the paper. Azu’s faith in Aphrodite is a certainty you can cut your teeth on, but Zolf’s faith in Hope is nearly contagious. Like their happy ending, Zolf has worked for his faith, he’s earned it, and it’s never betrayed him. It’s the only reason any of them are still here, really. It’s the anchor that kept Cel from spiraling with guilt, it’s the keel that steadied Azu when she doubted herself (not her god, never her god), it’s the beacon that led Sasha back to them. And it’s the only reason Oscar and Hamid are still alive, albeit with matching scars—

Wait. Where did that come from?

Shaking his head slightly, Oscar pushes away from the table and passes behind Zolf, touching him first on the shoulder, then the cheek. “I have plenty of faith, dearest. In you if nothing else.”

“Get away from my workspace,” Zolf grumbles, though without any heat.

Oscar smirks and moves down the counter towards the cutting board, ostentatiously reaching for one of the ingredients waiting to be added to whatever Zolf is preparing. Sasha jabs playfully at his chest to make him back off.

She’s too good at what she does to accidentally stab someone when she’s only pretending to, and she wouldn’t stab him, especially not with Zolf’s good tomato knife; she has too much respect for both Zolf and blades to do that. And yet, pain suddenly erupts in Oscar’s heart, as though she’s driven a blade far bigger than the serrated one she’s holding into his chest. He inhales sharply, and the world goes white.

For just a moment, it resolves itself into his flat in Paris from when he was in university, or something similar anyway, but then it swirls into a pink mist. He feels something solid holding onto him, something anchoring him firmly in reality, and warmth floods his entire being. He feels safe and protected and cherished, and it gives him strength.

His eyes open, and he finds himself lying more or less on his back. Zolf kneels next to him, one hand tenderly cradling his jaw, the other pressed to his heart, which hurts like anything.

“Wh—huh—?” Oscar tries to sit up, his mind scrambling to fit this dark and rather crowded antechamber or wherever it is they are in with the light and airy kitchen-slash-breakfast nook he remembers from just a few...moments ago? What’s going on?

Zolf’s face is pale, his blue eyes intent, and there’s a trickle of blood near his hairline that worries Oscar in a vague and distant way. But he doesn’t have time to ask about it before Zolf looks into Oscar’s eyes and says in a voice that crackles faintly with an emotion he can’t place, “Get the others out, and get safe.”

Before Oscar can question it, or protest, or even figure out what it is they’re supposed to be safe from, Zolf half-shoves, half-throws him through a door that’s barely open wide enough for him to get through. He slides a few feet until he’s able to at least drag himself on his hands and feet a little further into the room. Someone runs past him and takes hold of the door, but doesn’t close it.

Oscar blinks hard, shaking his head to clear it. There’s a sweet smell in the air and he almost sniffs at it, almost tries to see what it is, but then his eyes fall on the crumpled figure not far from where he is and it acts like a dash of cold water across his brain. Hamid. Hamid is flopped in a pitiful heap, his new wings draped across the floor, his eyes closed.

He was dreaming. Oscar realizes that in the same moment that he takes in Hamid’s unconscious (oh, gods, please let him only be unconscious, Oscar cannot have failed him a second time) form and the sounds of something that is definitely not making breakfast in the other room. He pushes himself to a standing position and looks around the room. It doesn’t take long to spot the tunnel Hamid spoke of, at the back of the lab. That must be both out and safe.

“Tell the others to follow us,” he calls over his shoulder to the person he now recognizes as Ada, hurrying over to Hamid’s side and hefting him into his arms. The wings make it awkward, but Hamid sort of nestles into Oscar’s arms. Thank the gods, he’s alive.

Oscar runs. He heads down the tunnel, the light fading behind him, but he can’t spare a hand to cast any sort of spell to help him, so he just gets as far as he can. There’s just enough light left for him to see the gate before he runs headlong into it, and he checks, then looks over his shoulder. The others will be coming any moment now, he tells himself. They just have to wait a moment.

He sets Hamid down on the ground and looks him over quickly. He looks...fine, really. A bit disheveled, but fine. Then Oscar notices the bloodied tear in his shirt. Underneath the rend is a scar so new its edges are still shiny, directly over Hamid’s warm and generous heart.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess what happened. And, touching his own chest briefly, Oscar feels the same thing.

He checks Hamid over quickly, and even though he’s a bit rattled, he realizes that the sweet smell he noticed earlier is probably what knocked Hamid out; other than that, he looks fine. Oscar sniffs the air experimentally. It’s a bit fresher down here, so he should be able to…

“Hamid,” he says urgently, shaking the halfling, then slapping his face as gently as possible. “Wake up!”

Hamid’s eyes snap open. There’s a moment of disorientation before his eyes clear. “Oscar?” he says, his voice a bit higher-pitched than normal as he sits up. “What’s—what happened?”

Oscar still has no idea, actually, except for one absolute certainty so strong he sensed it even in his dreams, maybe even before it happened. “Zolf saved us.”

The confusion on Hamid’s face melts into fierce determination. “Then let’s go return the favor.”

#ollie writes fanfic #rusty quill gaming #rqg 207 #207 spoilers #minor character death #grief mention #violence mention #augusta leigh (rqg) #sumutnyerl #hamid saleh haroun al tahan #oscar wilde (rqg)

[jazy3]

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 18X03

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

I liked this episode overall, but I didn’t love it. The writing this season is slowly improving after a complete disaster of a Premiere so that’s good, but I still feel like the episodes this season lack punch. They lack suspense and drama and action. The pacing is just really slow and it’s getting on my nerves. I enjoyed Addison’s return, but I wish they’d done more with it. I loved seeing Addison back and Kate Walsh did an amazing job, but I felt like they could have gone further with her scenes and made them a bit deeper. I felt like they skimmed the surface of what they had to work with and that they could have gone a lot farther with it. 

My favourite Addison scenes of the episode were when her and Meredith were on the elevator and the scene at the end with Zola, Bailey, and Amelia. I thought Kate Walsh and Ellen Pompeo gave a great performance in the elevator scene. It felt genuine and real to me. That being said, the scene didn't have the emotional impact for me that I hoped it would. I felt emotional, but it didn't hit me in the gut as I was expecting it to. I think part of that was the music choice, how short the scene was, and the lack of build-up beforehand. I also loved the scene with Meredith and Derek's kids at the end of the episode. I thought that was really lovely. Especially when she told them that Derek called her Addie. I also really enjoyed the OR scenes with Meredith and Addison and watching them teach Levi. 

Speaking of Levi, while I liked his scenes and moments in this episode, the other residents, minus Jo, just got on my nerves. Their comments were so cringeworthy and disrespectful. Levi was literally the only person to tell them to shut up and show some respect to their attendings. Their speculation about Addison and Meredith was so childish and gossipy I just can't take any of them seriously as future doctors. It was awful. I liked that we got more medical cases this episode, but I can’t say any of them really grabbed me. It felt like this script needed another draft before it went to air. 

If I had to pick, I'd say that Rashida's case was my favourite. I don't feel that we got to know Addison's clinical trial patient well enough for there to be an emotional impact for me. I did like that Winston continued to advocate for Rashida and got her the kidney she needed. I loved seeing Ben back in action and the surgery truck scene between Ben, Owen, and Winston. While I thought Owen went overboard going to Noah’s house, I am excited for Owen to have a non-romantic storyline. Kevin McKidd is a great actor and deserves plotlines outside of his messy love life. 

The storyline with Teddy and Link trying to fix the broken HVAC Unit was just stupid and I still don’t get why Link is so suddenly dead set on marriage that he’s willing to throw away an otherwise healthy relationship with Amelia and put Scout in a split custody situation especially since that's what he had growing up and he tells Teddy that is exactly what he didn't want for Scout. Why is being married so important to him? And why doesn't Amelia seem to care about Link or Scout anymore? Is her tumour back? I know some people out there are rooting for Amelia and Dr. Bartley and I do feel like Amelia and Bartley could have good chemistry if it wasn't for the fact that Amelia has a whole ass family in Seattle that no one wants to see her leave which put her scenes with Bartley in a weird position. 

The HVAC plot was absurd. HVAC systems have been computerized for at least the past five years now if not longer. The ignorance on Teddy and Link's part was ridiculous. To me, storylines like that really devalue the important work that tradespeople do and since I come from a family of tradespeople it really bothers me. It’s just so ignorant and upsetting. You can be funny without spreading ignorant stereotypes about hard working people who basically have had to retrain as both maintenance and IT which is very impressive. 

That being said, I did enjoy Teddy’s turn as Ambassador of Fun! It was silly and hilarious and I loved it! I especially enjoyed the hats! The sequined biker hat Teddy put on Owen? LOL! My favourite scene of the episode was the one between Meredith and Hayes when he brings her coffee and they talk about her new project in Minnesota, the weather in Ireland, and how Austin is doing. I just love their chemistry together and I love seeing Hayes talk about Ireland. I also love that Meredith is confiding in Hayes about Minnesota and her plans to give up the Residency Program to Richard, but I’m confused as to why she hasn’t told him about Nick yet or why she would bother going out with him when she has Hayes back in Seattle whose clearly still interested in her. 

He literally tells her he’s unhappy about adjusting to the idea of her being gone part of each week and the only reason they aren’t together is because Austin is having a hard time right now so why is Nick even on this show? It doesn't make any sense. I feel like they are wasting Richard Flood's talent so far this season. He's a great actor, he brings so much depth to Hayes, and they are so underutilizing him it's maddening. Get rid of Nick and focus on the characters you have people! It’s not hard. Oh, and also pick up the pace while you’re at it. We’re only three episodes in and this season is already dragging. While I enjoyed this episode and I feel like the writing is slowly improving I'm really not digging this season. 

They had such a great set up coming off of the last two seasons and I thought with jumping ahead to a post-COVID world we would finally see the culmination of so many storylines that we've all been waiting for. But apart from Teddy and Owen's wedding we literally haven't gotten anything fans have been waiting for based on what they set up previously. So far, I'm super disappointed. Making Meredith Chief of the Residency Program at the end of last season just to have her give the program back to Richard so quickly is a super bizarre move. As I’ve pointed out in the past it’s also really weird that they've spent so much time talking about Jo switching to OB but so little time actually showing it. The promo for next week shows more Addison and her talking to Amelia so hopefully that’s good. 

Until next time!

#grey's anatomy #meredith grey #18X03 #hotter than hell #addison montgomery #cormac hayes #MerHayes #richard webber #richard flood #kate walsh #ellen pompeo #teddy altman #owen hunt #tradespeople #HVAC #ben warren #winston ndugu #amelia shepherd #derek shepherd #zola grey shepherd #bailey shepherd #derek bailey shepherd #levi schmitt #review #critique #Thoughts