#also they have a stack of each other's work so they can hate-read ofc

[chillentertainer]

deeply compelled by the idea of tedesco and bellini being rival authors. like maybe tedesco writes really overwrought historical fiction that's him glazing the "golden era" of the crusades and the ye olde catholic church. his novels feature only one kind of protagonist that is such a clear stand-in for himself, and is written as the Ideal Man. but really they're misogynistic, colonizing blowhards (sound familiar??)

also the protagonists often have many significant relationships with other men but only one relationship with a woman (who often is a love interest that dies a virgin). ofc this results in hilarious speculation as to whether his characters are homos, considering the sheer lack of interest they have in women. tedesco vehemently denies this and goes out of his way to attack his fans who theorize abt this "degenerate faggotry". this does not deter anyone from shipping his most popular character, Michele, and Michele's bald rival, Antonio. why are Michele and Antonio so obsessed with each other? why does Michele care more about Antonio escaping prison than his literal wife almost dying? why does Michele die in Antonio's arms, who then promises Michele that he'd carry on Michele's legacy and build him a giant statue? well according to tedesco that's just "how men are" :|

bellini, on the other hand, writes serious modern literary fiction that features queer main characters who are still really repressed and catholic about their sexualities. they often end up dying and/or being alone for the rest of their lives and then dying. while his novels are brilliant and witty, they tend to be preachy and lose steam by the end. his ideas and messages are strong but fall apart if you examine them too closely.

in many of his works, esp in this short story collection he just published (called Tomorrow's Saints—pretentious, isn't it?), there is an antagonist that pops up by the name of Gioacchino. Giocacchino is annoying and dies in a decidedly undignified manner multiple times. nevertheless, bellini spends many pages throughout his works describing the exact shape and dimension of Gioacchino's dark curls as well as his roman nose and dark eyes and strong jawline and deep voice and his hands. christ he really goes all in on describing the hands. the descriptions get downright erotic.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

THE BIBLE VERSE FORMAT I’m done imagine he makes his own “Bible” of sayings and it’s like “book of aiku, book of Oliver, aikulations, women” LMAOAOA

Actually wait reuniclus does give me nagi hype man vibes now that you mention it like fr just chilling and being Nagi’s cheerleader even if the decision is bad LMAOOO kinda like Shidou energy but like, not to that extent obv

PLEASE I mean if you HAVE the material I will never say no….but PMG WAIT the one from the mini smau you made too right??? Omg guys tullia reader reveal!!! I’m crying THE AUDIO ok who’s gonna hit reader up and say the “YIPPEE” LMAO and I forgot to mention I’m still slowly watching the dub and I just past the “don’t disrespect soccer” scene and I relived the cringe all over again LMAOAOA that scene is forever iconic though also SHIN AH WAIT HES SO CUTE

BAROU YAYOI EXES omg…wait??? Ok but anyways where was all this pokemon info when I was actively breeding stuff….wtf why did I never know some of these things

ORPHANED BABY KANGASKHAN so many potential routes…or post main plot he just ends up being the go to sitter first Tullia sends over her baby pokemon and then Hiori sends over some orphans and then baby pokemon just gravitate to him like he just wakes up one night to that munna at his door or like nibbling on his hair…LMAO real losercore it’s fr either flame or be flamed for him

LMAOO FR chigiri would so be like “wtv I don’t wanna put up with whatever shit they give me later” wait actually I don’t know the meme?? Do enlighten me LOL

“Interesting way of inhaling” has me cackling LMAOO real he would do that BACK ARCH IS ICONIC OFC IK IT hes jumping up chest bump the ball and hioris marking him and we see feathers and stuff how could I forget!! But REALLL LMAO yuki Reo Karasu sleeper build /j but yeah barous just ginormous it’s like putting otoya next to nagi and he looks short as hell then you realize Nagi’s just a skyscraper and otoyas pretty tall still

LMAOO first maid then stripper what’s next for fanon Barou

SHAHSHS “if my parents don’t get to divorce neither do you” HAAHAH the dynamic is fr so funny

Yuki back to being the opp FR but wait fwtkac bestie in the pokemon verse…guys…its all interconnected this truly was our miraverse multiverse

Me I just auto filter it out and enjoy the art LMAO

LMAOOO SELL THE PRINCESS side note but Nagi looks so cute like that HSSVSJSB the audio also has me laughing wait the yuki edit is kinda majestic esp with the eye blink fade to the flower bg???

I was gonna type LMAOO here but I look up and see like three LMAOOs stacked on top of each other so I’ll refrain ig but ok no if you’re just casually reading there’s no way you’d be able to tell (I think I’ve mentioned this before but before I put two and two together and realized you wrote peregrine too I read some of your other works including cherry tree and I fr had no idea I would’ve guessed that you were a Rin enthusiast considering how good it was) so I don’t think you need to worry LOL AHAHAHA the Isagi ones crack me up they were still fire though but considering the context and our convos I still find it funny bfb Karasu is my Roman Empire but anyways back to the point yeah I don’t think anyone would be able to guess because tbh even your works for characters that (I know now) you don’t rlly care for are more thought out than a good number of works I see floating around (no hate ofc but when I read your work I can FEEL that there’s been a lot of consideration put into it)

- Karasu anon

LMAOOO NAH BECAUSE HE WOULD BE THE ONE pls i’m going to have to take a break from the oaeu for a bit just to stop thinking in the aiku mindset before starting pursuit i cannot be writing such an insane plot and be dropping in aikulations midway through

LMAO NO LITERALLY all of nagi’s pokémon gas him up sm except for i think his snorlax (why do i always forget he has one) is lowkey his opp for some reason HAHAAH like it’s giving ash and charizard i feel

YES from the smau!! LMAOAOA PLSSS READER SEARCHING FOR THE “YIPPEE” TO HER FORTNITE UND COLA technically since she only sees kaiser and ness again in NEL and she’s on pxg (technically on their bench but yk) there’s a few options…either charles chimes in to be problematic, shidou does it for the same reason, karasu does it because he’s always matching her vibes, or rin deadpans it because he wants to impress her but he also thinks it’s stupid 😭 DON’T DISRESPECT SOCCER IS INSANE WORK the way nagi and reo were so unamused too it’s truly such an embarrassing scene idk how isagi nation recovered…look ik nagi’s going through it but that panel of his ego leaving him was GORGEOUS so we are always up!!

HAHAAH OFCCC i love making silly two second drawings!! maybe not EVERY ask but i’ll def sprinkle them in w some frequency!! here’s pursuit reader (post written by karasu tbh)

i was a smogon LURKER that’s why i know so much random stuff LMAAOAO anyways barou yayoi exes…barou who knows he’s dying and can’t bear to break her heart when he finally passes so he pushes her away but she doesn’t let him…yayoi who still waits by the door hoping he’ll come back one day and wondering if she did something to push him away but he’s actually just dead…nah because the karasus and the barous (technically reader is an l/n but ykwim) are so intertwined so paralleled it’s just soooooooo ahem anyways okay but then karasu finding reader is even more cute because it’s not just reader thinking “my cousin sent someone to look after me when he no longer could” it’s YAYOI thinking “barou sent his cousin to love my brother because he couldn’t love me” STFUUUUUUU i’m crying sobbing screaming shitting tears (love in this sense is platonic of course…ha ha…)

HELP KARASU JUST ATTRACTING BABY POKÉMON it all started w him accidentally adopting hiori and reader and everything spiraled from there okay wait lowkey instead of being a gym leader (i’m not mega attached to the idea because his goal in the story is proving himself to yayoi and after that he just hangs around to help reader and co out so his ending could be whatever) imagine karasu becomes the pokémon daycare owner 🥹 in an au where the daycare isn’t where pokémon breed it’s just meant for raising younger pokémon while the trainers are out battling or exploring dangerous ideas LOWKEY THIS COOKS IMAGINE HIM AND HIS BIRDS LOOKING AFTER THE EGGS 😭😭😭 or garchomp and lucario teaching the babies how to fight…dare i say an epilogue change is in order…

i don’t even know if there’s an actual meme it’s just whenever someone’s slaying in an unexpected way you just say “this diva” or “these divas” idk it just gives karasu/otoya

ok this is the only example i could find online that fits the vibe LMAOAOAAO i promise i didn’t just have this on hand

BACK ARCH TOP THREE KARASU PANELS AND IT’S NOT TWO OR THREE!! KDFJISJDSJ he’s just such a hater at heart he cannot stop himself…no because i always joke about isagi and otoya being short because compared to nagi karasu barou they ARE but they still are much taller than ME so i need to cool it w the clowning 😭 but agreed yeah barou is just massive bro his HANDS?? his thumb is like the size of isagi’s wrist good lord (lowkey karasu’s hands are also really big like in the panel of him waving to hiori they look magnificent)

MIRAVERSE MULTIVERSE might as well make hiori’s love interest his childhood bff who only ever wanted to take care of pokémon and not battle them and when he runs away he doesn’t tell her so she can’t find him until she realizes he’s at the safari zone waiting for her in the exact house she dreamed of as a kid (white butterfree/beautifly asf) HAHAHA

THE YUKI EDIT ACTUALLY ATE AGREED!! and omg the nagi video had me cackling okay these two videos [1] and [2] aren’t edits they’re from an artist but the sae one had me cackling because that’s exactly how we believe he should be written and the tabieita one is tabieita so ofc it goes hard HAHAHA

IT’S OKAY I’M A LMAO WARRIOR i try to add in a HAHA and a key smash every now and again but when you’re texting there’s only so many things you can add in yk 🤔 ANYWAYS idk why but i read that as you JUST figured out i wrote peregrine and i was like ??? how did you take this long to realize??? HAHAHA please the isagi ones are so lighthearted tbh maybe i just don’t like writing him because nobody is making me make him SUFFER like i’m excited to write him in pursuit because he’s interesting and weird and has odd dynamics w the characters instead of being mega ultra green flag plus (isagi treating reader the way he’d treat barou but she’s not barou and never will be and sometimes that frustrates him because barou was his rival and best friend and he’ll never get him back and reader won’t even TRY [not that she should this is just the mindset] yet at the same time he also treats her very kindly when he can because she’s barou’s most beloved and whenever he upsets her he can feel barou’s disapproval and he wonders why he’ll never be able to live up to his rival’s expectations and questions if maybe the wrong one of them got to live…) LMAOOO okay but yeah bfb karasu is just that guy JFSKDKDS i’ve seen a revival in bfb interactions i’m expecting more people to find it now that s2 is coming out AHHAAH and yeah i always try to put some effort into everything i write!!! i mean i managed to cook for kiyora and i barely knew anything abt him i truly do think my wc is super prompt dependent more than anything!! like i was in the kitchen w white butterfly and i did NOT gaf abt hiori the prompt was just vague enough that i could infuse my own style into it so the wc naturally expanded 🤩 same w the instrument/seabird/cherry tree…not that i mind more specific requests it just means i’m more likely to be able to write less since there’s less avenues for me to explore ig 🤔

anyways uhhh idk if you’ll see it before you read this or not but 1k event post dropping posthaste 😏‼️ i decided to do the pokémon theme after all since soooo many people do food/drink themed ones might as well be #different #miraverse LMAOAOAO

[boysplanetrecaps]

on scheming, popularity, confidence, and skill -- responding to a cool ask!

I got a great ask from someone and I wanted to publish it, but it would be a spoiler to anyone who hasn't seen ep9, or is behind on who has or hasn't been eliminated, so I'm putting it here behind a read more. They're responding to my theory as to why a certain trainees was kicked out of Over Me and make some good points! It's all behind the read more.

fallindomino asked:

heyy just read your ep 9 post and i found what you said abt Keita getting kicked out of over me really interesting, both bc he’s my one pick lol but also bc i both agree and disagree. i think he’s closer with the other trainees than mnet seemingly wants viewers to think, in dance practice behind the scenes vids and other content that not everyone who watches the show probably watches you can see other contestants being more physically affectionate with him and vice versa. this confuses me solely bc he’s the japanese trainee with the best shot at making it into the final line-up, and you’d think mnet wants at least one to keep up the perception of this show producing a “global” boy group. then again, trying to understand what mnet is thinking is a fruitless endeavor in itself.

I see what you mean about Keita certainly having friends among the trainees -- I think that a lot of the trainees feel close to him, especially the Japanese trainees, I'd guess. But remember when Park Gunwook shook Keita's hand at the ep8 ranking ceremony? He shook his hand warmly, with a huge smile on his face, but he didn't HUG him. Now maybe Gunwook just isn't a hugger, but still. I just think Keita isn't quite as "in" with the cool kids clique as he could be. Everyone likes and respects him but I don't sense that bond, that "stay up all night talking, crying on each other's shoulders, telling each other stuff you've never told anyone before" kind of bond. But maybe I'm wrong! I should watch some more of the behind the scenes content -- let me know if there's a specific video that you think I should check out.

And yeah, you'd think for sure they'd want at least one Japanese trainee, but who knows what goes through MNET's single collective brain cell. It's like searching for meaning in a Pauly Shore movie.

buttt abt the threat bit i completely agree. i think the other trainees see him as a threat in a way he doesn’t view anyone else at all. i remember you said smth like “Keita sets a high standard even among the other previously debuted idols on this show” in one of ur posts, and i think this is a contributing factor. Keita simply has less to prove. he knows he’s good enough to be in the group, the judges know, the other trainees know, the viewers know, even people who don’t LIKE him know.

this is why he was so completely unafraid to make a super stacked team for Kill this Love even though he definitely wanted the killing part, and in ep 6 when they chose for the second mission, though they don’t show Keita choosing Zoom, in background shots you can see that Krystian, who he kicked out, was simply standing on the bottom row, closest to the walkway, and that is most likely the reason keita kicked him out.

Oh, I love this kind of close analysis! Nice work. I think Krystian was better suited for Limousine anyway so it worked out.

comparing this line of thinking to Ricky, who kicked Jongwoo out of Love Killa because it meant he would be more likely to get the killing part, to Jiwoong who did the exact same thing to ricky two minutes later, and the differences in their thinking become clear.

Aaaannnd we ended up with an underwhelming performance of Love Killa, so thanks, everyone!

this isn’t me hating on any of them ofc, it’s a good strategy. but it’s a strategy that Keita isn’t using, partially because he is literally just that kind, but also because he doesn’t feel that pressure to prove everything he has the way most of the other trainees do.

Totally agree. It's kind of like what I was saying about how Matthew leads from a place of anxiety, while Keita leads from a place of confidence. It doesn't enter Keita's mind to scheme because he knows he has the goods. I think that this might contribute to his comparative lack of super close, emotionally bound friends -- you bond with people who you feel a connection to, and maybe it's hard for people to feel that connection with someone who doesn't seem to experience the same frustrations and difficulties that they do. But again, maybe I'm wrong.

and yeah, considering that there were two yuehuas on over me team as well, it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that they made a plan to vote out the members they felt would be the biggest threats to them, position-wise, and any friendships made on the show def pale in comparison to years spent training tgt. i just thought it was rlly interesting cause all last week i was curious to see how ppl ended on their new teams (i did get spoiled lol) and after watching and thinking it over, it makes tons of sense. your recaps are always interesting reads, and i look forward to the performance specific ones !!

Thanks so much! Back atcha, friendo!

[justthehiddleswrites]

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 4 | You should worry about the people you care about. I mean, I worry about you all the time.

A/N:  Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed).  It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will.  Keep your hate to yourself.  

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt.  Tom has an idea to solve all their problems.  Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts.  Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else.  In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Molly is making friends and life is settling into a routine until Molly gets sick and Tom takes care of her.  

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of:  child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED!  THANK YOU FOR READING!

–

Molly left that afternoon with two new numbers in her phone and a lunch date for next week.

“Can’t believe you are having lunch with my mother and sister without me.” Tom pouted on the way back.

“Once they heard I wasn’t working and didn’t know anyone, they insisted. Was I supposed to say no?” 

“You could have scheduled it when I could come.” 

“But you are so busy. And talented.” She poked his side. 

“I’m driving here, darling.”

“Sorry, but just one question…” They pulled up to a red light.”

“What?”

“Are you ticklish?” she attacked his side and Tom squirmed and giggled.

“You will be the death of me.” He panted as Molly stopped when the light was green.

“Note to self. Tom is very ticklish.” 

“No, no notes to self. That is something you can promptly forget.”

Molly batted her eyelashes. “But real husbands and wives would know these things about each other. We have to pull this off for an entire year, right?”

“Fine, but expect revenge.” Tom wagged a finger at Molly. 

“I’ll sleep with one eye open.” 

-

Over the next several weeks, Tom and Molly fell in a routine. The marriage certificate came in the mail and they applied for a family visa for Molly to stay there.

“I didn’t think you would want to become a citizen.”

Molly smirked. “No, not right now.”

A new debit card came in for Molly. 

“With great power…” Tom handed it over.

“Yeah, yeah, Loki.” she tucked into her wallet. “I am burdened with glorious purpose. To keep you well fed.” 

Molly had a standing date with Emma every two weeks, much to Tom’s consternation. They continued running together in the mornings. Tom, more often than not, ended it with a kiss. 

“This is becoming quite the nasty habit, Mr. Hiddleston.” she commented one morning.

“Then stop me, Mrs. Hiddleston.” He pecked her lips again. 

Molly blushed. “You just love what they are saying about us in the papers.” She pushed Tom away and towards the door. 

“I will admit the good news is definitely a perk. Plus, you are such lovely company.” He went to hug her, but she pushed him away.

“You are all sweaty, Tom. Take a shower and I will make breakfast.”

“French toast?” he asked hopefully.

“You ate the last of the bread yesterday.” 

“Pancakes?”

“I think I can swing pancakes, if…” She held up a finger. “You also eat a side of fruit.”

“Deal.” Tom headed towards his room wearing a huge grin. 

Molly shook her head as she grabbed a mixing bowl out. “Lunatic.”

-

One morning, Molly wasn’t awake when Tom got up to run. She almost always beat Tom up, sipping a cup of tea in the living room, reading a magazine or one of the books from his shelf. There was a small stack building on a side table of the ones she finished reading. But that morning, no half-drunk cup of tea perched precariously on the coffee table. No crossword puzzle half done in pen. 

Tom peaked into Molly’s bedroom. The covers, in colors of navy and grey, just like his, pulled up tight around her. There were a few prints of classic travel posters on the wall. 

“Molly, darling.” He called out. Usually that was all it took to roust Molly from her sleep and get her going for the day. Today, nothing. Tom stepped into the room. He felt like an intruder in his own home. 

“It’s time for our run, love.” He said a bit louder this time. 

Molly rolled over, groaning and coughing. Tom’s brow furrowed. He didn’t like the sound of that cough. Tom sat down on the edge of the bed and rocked Molly gently by the shoulder.

“Are you feeling okay, darling?” He hoped it was just allergies or waking up in the morning. But then she woke up.

“Uggh, Tom?” Molly croaked out before rolling onto her back. She was pale. So much more pale than usual. She coughed again, covering her mouth. 

“It’s me, Molly. Are you feeling alright?” He repeated. “That’s some cough.”

“I’m fine, fine. It’s just,” She waved him off and pushed up to sitting, only to fall back onto the pillows. “oh, that’s not good.” 

Tom placed the back of his hand to her forehead and replaced it with his lips, checking her temperature. She was running hot. 

“You have a fever. I’m making you an appointment to see the doctor.” He stood, but Molly caught his wrist. Her palm clammy against Tom’s skin.

“No! It’s just a cold. Go on your run. I’ll be fine. I just need some sleep.” She insisted.

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble.” 

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

Tom leaned down and kissed her very warm forehead. “I’ll keep it short. Go back to sleep.”

Molly nodded and rolled over. Tom tucked the covers around her and headed out. He barely made it to the end of the street before he returned home. It confirmed his fears when he stepped back inside and heard Molly coughing. Tom grabbed the phone and searched for a number and called it.

“Yes, Urgent Care? Do you have any appointments today? Name? Molly Hiddleston. Thank you.”

-

Tom helped Molly get dressed, averting his eyes when appropriate. Her entire body burned under his fingertips, but Tom noticed her shivering. She stumbled to the car where she slept the entire ride over to urgent care. Tom did his best to fill out the paperwork.

“What do you put for family history?”

“Nothing. Unless there is a place for mental illness, then check that. That’s all I know about. Mom didn’t chat much.” Molly muttered, leaning heavily against Tom. “Meth does that…” Her brow furrowed and she coughed again. 

“Shh, darling.” Tom soothed her. “Only happy thoughts.”

Molly hummed and smiled. “Happy thoughts.” More coughing. 

It took twenty minutes before they called Molly back. They didn’t let Tom back with her. He alternated between sitting with a bouncing knee, pretending to read on his phone and pacing the waiting room, making the other people nervous. After forty-five minutes, before Molly returned with several papers in her hand. She coughed again.

“Upper respiratory infection,” cough. “Along with a sinus infection and a viral infection.”

Tom smiled. “Triple threat. Let’s get you home.”

Molly’s hand, holding the papers, flopped up. “I have prescriptions and they want to see me again in two weeks. To make sure I don’t get pneumonia.”

Tom’s eyes widened. “That’s a possibility?”

Molly nodded. “It’s all in here.”

Tom took all the papers, skimming them, including a script for antibiotics as well as a cough suppressant. It all sounded grim. “Let’s get you to bed and I will take care of getting these filled.”

Molly coughed and nodded. “Thank you.” 

She fell back asleep in the car. Tom carried into the house, not having the heart to wake her up again, and settled her into his bed, which was bigger, more comfortable and the bathroom was right there. Once she was settled and asleep, he headed off to the pharmacy. While waiting in line, Tom dialed Luke. 

“Luke, is there anything absolutely pressing in the schedule for the next three days?” he asked after Luke picked up. 

“Nothing I can’t reschedule, why?”

“Molly’s ill.” He bit his lips and sighed. “The doctors are afraid it might turn into pneumonia. And I…”

“Consider your schedule cleared until Monday. And tell her I hope she feels better soon.”

“Thanks, Luke. I’m worried about her.”

“That’s because you love her, Tom. You should worry about the people you care about. I mean, I worry about you all the time.” Luke chuckled.

Tom paused at Luke’s words but pushed it away. Of course he cared for Molly. That has the tendency to happen when you live with a person for nearly three months. Especially someone as congenial as Molly. Congenial wasn’t the word. Lovely. Molly was lovely. He laughed it off. “I worry about you too, Luke. I got to go.”

“Take care of her. Bye, Tom.” 

After picking you the medicine, Tom popped into the grocery store and picked up some soup, drinks, and Molly’s favorite cookies. When he got back, she was still asleep. And still coughing. He put away the groceries and then checked on her.

“Darling, I’m back with the medicine. Time to take it.” He helped her sit up, Molly groaning the entire time. She swallowed the pill with a sip of water, gagging.

“That’s awful!” she coughed. 

“Now the cough medicine.” Tom poured out the cough syrup and handed it over to Molly. She hesitated, sniffing it first. “Take the medicine and get a biscuit.” He held up a package of cookies.

“They’re cookies. I thought I ate the last of them.” she moaned, downing the cough syrup. Her face contorted. Tom smiled and handed her two cookies. “Good girl. Now rest. I’ll check on you in a few hours.”

“Don’t you have work?” Molly muttered as she laid back down. Tom pulled the covers over her, putting the cookies on the nightstand. “You had… interviews… or something…”

“My schedule is clear through the weekend. I am at your disposal.” Tom rubbed Molly’s back, and she purred. 

“You don’t need to do that.” She half-heartedly complained, dozing off.

“And leave you to fend for yourself? What kind of husband would I be? It was no trouble. Now sleep, darling.”

“Mmm… kay.” 

-

Tom busied himself with absolutely nothing. He flitted from reading a book to watching a TV show to peeking into the bedroom. At one point, when Molly was particularly quiet, he seriously contemplated putting a mirror under her nose to just make sure he was still breathing. He managed to get her to eat half a bowl of soup. 

“You need to eat, love.” he scolded.

Molly coughed and croaked. “Says the man who considers chocolate a food group.” 

“Look at that, some humour.” Tom smiled. “Eat please.”

“Yes, sir.” She slurped the soup off the spoon before falling back asleep. 

Tom, worried, did the unthinkable. He called his mum for advice.

“She’s coughing. A lot. And all she does is sleep.” Tom ran his hands through his hair. 

“Is she eating, love?” Diana asked. Tom could feel the smile across the phone.

“A bit, but not as much as usual. I brought her soup.”

“Soup is good. And she is taking her medicine?”

Tom nodded. “I set a timer.”

“Of course you did. And the fever?”

Tom blinked. “What about her fever?”

“Has it broken?”

“I don’t—”

“Tom!” Molly’s bedraggled voice called out.

“I gotta go. She needs me.” Tom hung up the phone and sprinted to the room. 

“Molly! What is it?” He noted she was shivering.

“I’m cold.” she chattered. Tom grabbed the blanket at the foot of his bed. 

“Is that better?” He tucked it under Molly’s chin. Tom touched her forehead. Hot.

“Much.” 

“I’ll let you rest.” He patted her shoulder and stood. Molly reached out for him.

“Stay.” She coughed. “At least until I fall asleep. Please lie down. Just five minutes.”

Tom’s heart broke in that moment for Molly. That confident woman he grew so fond of seemed so small in that moment.

“Of course, I’ll stay. Anything for you.” Tom crawled on top of the covers next to Molly. He laced his fingers in hers. He heard her exhaled, and he exhaled too. 

“Sleep well, darling.” But Molly had already fallen asleep. Tom soon followed.

-

Molly woke the next morning in sweat soaked pajamas and on top of drenched sheets. She still coughed, but her fever was gone. As she blinked her eyes open, Molly realized she wasn’t in her bed, but Tom’s. And Tom was there too. Asleep next to her, fully dressed, holding her hand. She had vague memories of Tom bringing her soup and her asking him to stay. And some very not safe for work dreams. 

“Fever dreams.” she muttered. “Tom…” Molly rocked his shoulder.

“Huh?” Tom sat up. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“It’s hard to be a nurse. I think your sheets may need washing.” she smiled.

Tom pressed his lips to her forehead. “No fever.” His spirits lifted. 

“It must have broken last night.”

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yes.” 

Tom noticed their hands still laced together. He let go and stood up. He made a poor attempt at smoothing out his sleep wrinkled clothes. “Up to move to the couch? And maybe some movies?”

“I would like that.” She slowly sat up and got out of bed. “But first a shower.”

Tom frowned. “First medicine, then shower.”

“Nurse Ratched.” Tom didn’t smile or budge. Molly sighed. “Fine, medicine, the shower.”

Tom grabbed the bottles and dispensed the medicine, which she took still gagging. “And a biscuit.” He handed her a cookie. 

“Cookie.” She popped it into her mouth and headed off to her room and Tom went to his own bathroom. 

-

Once they were both showered and dressed, Tom popped his sheets into the laundry and made a makeshift bed on the couch for Molly.

“You pick the movie.” she offered. “That way if I fall asleep, you won’t be bored.” 

Tom picked The Jungle Book. “One of my favorites as a child. I still watch it when I feel under the weather.”

“I don’t think I have seen it.”

Tom’s mouth fell open. “That is a travesty.”

Molly shrugged her shoulders. “You know, group homes, foster care…”

Tom stopped. “Well, we are going to watch this right now and you can listen to the vocal genius that is George Sanders as Shere Khan.”

“More of a vocal genius than you?” Molly raised an eyebrow while she settled onto the couch. 

Tom blushed. “A man-cub, how delightful.” He purred deep in his chest, sending shivers through Molly.

By the end of the movie, Molly’s head was in Tom’s lap and his hand in hers. They watched Disney movies for the rest of day, alternating picking the title. Tom made sure she took her meds on time and ate more than just cookies.

“I will eat a meal if you do.” Molly chided.

They both ate soup and Tom also ate a sandwich. It was late when they finished up Robin Hood. Molly stretched and sat up.

“I should go to bed.”

“I can put the sheets back on the bed.” Tom moved, but she stopped him, squeezing his hand.

“My bed. But I will keep the door open so you can spy on me.” She smirked. “I can’t take your bed again.”

“It’s fine if you did. I don’t mind sharing.”

“I know but…” She glanced away. “We should keep our own space. To keep things from getting complicated.”

Tom nodded. “Right. No complications here.” he lied to her and to himself.

Molly hugged Tom tight. “Thank you for everything, Tom.”

“My pleasure.”

She coughed a bit as she headed off to her room. Tom turned off the TV and cleaned the dishes before going to bed himself. He spent most of the night tossing and turning.

[theycallmebeccawrites]

Chris & Ellie Series: Episode 25

Happy New Year’s Eve (and yes, I realize some of you are already in 2021, but I’m not.) Nothing like waiting until almost the last minute to get my promised new episode posted before the end of December. But success.

I’m currently on my lunch break, so I have to keep this short and sweet.

Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me as I’ve been writing this series. I truly appreciate each and everyone one of you. And shout out to my betas: @nomadicpixel​ @alievans007​ @heather-lynn​ and @mrs-captain-evans​ - you four are amazing cheerleaders and this story wouldn’t be what it is without you and your help.

♥Becca♥

Pairing: Chris Evans x Ellie Spencer (OFC)

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: n/a

Episode Summary: Chris returns to Los Angeles (and Ellie)... for real this time.

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

This episode can also be read on AO3.

The Chris and Ellie series is primarily chronological. It begins with a flash forward to 2016 and has a few other scenes in the future. However, the majority of their story is told in chronological order starting in 2013 and going through 2017. Each episode starts with a date to help you place it within the story.

The Chris & Ellie Series Masterlist | Chris & Ellie Masterlist

Episode 24.5

Episode 25: Only Fools Rush In

December 5, 2014

Chris's house in Los Angeles was dark when the cab came to a stop in front of it in the early hours of the morning. The driver helped Chris get his luggage out of the trunk and then wished him a 'Merry Christmas' after Chris slipped him a tip.

As the cab drove away, Chris stared up at the big house, trying to block out the memories from that day in July when he'd seen Ellie and Pierre hugging. Now that he knew what had actually happened, he felt like a fool for jumping to conclusions.

He couldn’t bring himself to regret it. That rock bottom moment for him had been a catalyst. He'd finally gotten over the hurdles his mind created and was letting his heart take the lead on the whole Ellie dilemma. He owed it to them both to seek her out. He didn't know how it would go, but he was prepared to apologize and, if she wanted, walk away.

Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the door and carried his suitcases in. His eyes drifted up the stairs and he knew he should take them up to his bedroom, but he wasn't ready to go there yet. Instead, he dropped the suitcases at the bottom of the stairs then walked through the quiet house, taking everything in.

For some reason, Chris had expected everything to be different, but it all looked the same. The only thing that was noticeably different was the smell. The house didn't smell bad by any means, it just didn't smell like the light, fruity scent that he associated with Ellie.

It wasn't until he got to the kitchen that he noticed things missing, specifically Ellie's things. Like her ugly coffee cups that she insisted on keeping next to the coffeemaker so they were within easy reach first thing in the morning. His eyes then slid to the floor by the backdoor where Daisy's things had been. He missed her almost as much as he missed Ellie.

Taking a shaky breath, he started a pot of coffee, knowing it would be the only way he was going to make it through the day after taking a red eye flight from Boston to Los Angeles. While the coffee brewed, he grabbed a mug from the cupboard and then looked back at the coffee maker.

"I don't know why you keep them so far apart," Ellie's voice came back to him from a long-forgotten conversation. "It's silly. The coffee cups should be right above the coffee pot for easy access. Everyone knows that."

"You're right," he admitted out loud in his empty kitchen.

Trying to remember the other things Ellie had said to him over their time together, he opened the doors of all his cupboards and began reorganizing them. At first, it required a lot of thought, but once it got down to just putting things away, his mind started to wander.

It had been ten days since he'd learned the truth about what had happened in the driveway back in July. At first, he had been too overwhelmed by the information and hadn't been able to process it. Opening up to his mom about everything had helped, but that had just been step one.

The next step had been sorting through his feelings. He knew he was in love with Ellie. Months of long, lonely nights of introspection convinced him of that. But he also knew that his feelings weren't what was important right now. Ellie's feelings were all what mattered. Him being in love with her didn't mean a damn thing if she didn't feel the same way. Or worse, if she hated him and never wanted to see him again.

He'd tried to put on a brave face for Thanksgiving, but his heart hadn't really been in it. He'd gone through the motions, but not even a competitive game of Trivial Pursuit had pulled him out of his head.

His mom had given him until Saturday morning before she'd stepped in to help some more. Through a series of questions, like 'what are you thinking' and 'what are you planning to do', she helped him get through the quagmire that was his brain. The outcome of which had been him deciding to go back to Los Angeles to talk to Ellie.

The biggest question that had followed his decision had been when. Scott had gone back to LA Sunday morning, but Chris hadn't been ready yet. He'd wanted to come back with a game plan. Even if it all ended up a complete and utter failure.

"What are you doing?" Scott's voice came through the fog of Chris's brain, bringing him back to the present.

Shaking his head, Chris turned and found his brother standing at the top of the stairs to the basement. Seeing the confused expression on Scott's face, he took a step back and took in the reorganizing disaster that was his kitchen.

"Are you ok?" Scott asked, slowly. He'd known Chris was arriving this morning, but he hadn't expected to find his brother rearranging the kitchen when he came in from the guest house where he was now living.

"I'm fine," Chris assured him. "Just felt like reorganizing, I guess." He shrugged. "Ellie was always commenting on the silly places some things were stored and she was right." Stepping forward, he opened the cupboard over the coffee pot. "The mugs are here now. Above the coffee pot."

"You could have just moved the coffee pot," Scott said with a stifled yawn.

"I could have, but it makes sense for the coffee pot, coffee and coffee cups to all be in one area," Chris explained. "Speaking of which, I made coffee. You want some?"

"Shouldn't you be fighting jet lag or something?" his brother asked.

"I slept on the plane," Chris replied with a shrug. "And I've had two cups of coffee this morning. I'll sleep later."

"In your bedroom or in one of the guestrooms?" Scott asked, cautiously. He knew coming back to the house was a big first step for Chris, but he didn't think his brother was fully prepared for the onslaught of memories that the house would bring. Seeing Chris tense at his question, Scott pressed on. "Have you been upstairs yet?"

"I couldn't go upstairs," Chris admitted, softly. The bedroom held so many memories for himself and Ellie but was also the place that his worst memory with her had happened.

"Want me to go with you?" Scott offered. He'd walked by Ellie's side during the aftermath of the breakup and now that his brother was forced to deal with it himself, he could help him, too.

"Will you help me with the kitchen first?" Chris asked, gesturing to the stuff that was still on the counters to put away.

Knowing his brother needed to mentally prepare himself to go upstairs, Scott helped him finish reorganizing the kitchen. He didn't want to admit it out loud, but some of the changes really did make sense. Others, he knew would drive Ellie crazy. Which made him want to take a picture and send it to her, but he resisted the urge. She didn't know Chris was back in town yet and he didn't want to be the one to tell her.

After the last cabinet door closed, Scott expected Chris to come up with a reason not to go upstairs, but his brother surprised him by leading him out of the kitchen.

"Are you ready for this?" Scott asked as he picked up two of Chris's suitcases.

"Not really, but it's not like I have much choice, is it?" Chris asked as he grabbed his other suitcase.

"It'll be ok, you'll see," Scott assured him. "The cleaning lady was here yesterday and she made the bed for you and cleaned the bathroom."

Leading Chris up the stairs, Scott waited for him at the bedroom door. He knew his brother needed to be the one to open the door to fully cement his current reality. Afterall, the last time Chris had been in the room, Ellie had been peacefully sleeping in the bed and it had been April.

"You got this," Scott encouraged as they stood outside the closed bedroom door.

Turning the handle, Chris pushed the door open and found the room just as it had always been when he came home from a long time away. It was both comforting and depressing.

He forced himself to take a step into the room and then another until he reached the bed. He dropped his suitcase onto it and Scott did the same with the other two.

Turning to survey the room, he saw the two neatly stacked piles of clothes on the dresser by the bedroom door. He recognized some of the sweatshirts that Ellie had borrowed from him, but others were just clothes he had worn during the days leading up to his early departure.

Sucking in a breath, he turned his attention to the closet. Crossing the room, he opened the door and was taken aback at the chaotic state of it. He knew he'd packed in a rush, but he hadn't realized he'd left it in such a state.

"I told the housekeeper not to clean it up," Scott said from behind him. "I thought you needed to see the way you left things."

"I hadn't realized," Chris whispered as he felt pressure building in his chest. He could only imagine how shocked and hurt Ellie had been when she'd seen the room. "I really fucked up."

"You did," Scott agreed. There was no reason to sugar coat things anymore. At the same time, he could feel the anxiety radiating off his brother. Reaching over, he put his hand on Chris's shoulder and squeezed. "You're here now. That's what's important."

Turning to look at his brother, Chris felt the weight of the last eight months on his shoulders. Not only had he lost Ellie, but he'd effectively lost his own brother, too. Both because of his own stupidity.

"I'm sorry for being a jackass," he told Scott.

"I know you are and I forgive you," Scott replied with a smile. "I'll try not to rub it in your face. Too much anyway."

Chris rolled his eyes and pulled his brother in for a hug.

"So what's your plan?" Scott asked, once they'd parted.

"I'm going to go talk to her," Chris told him. 

"You mean call her, right?" Scott responded. The idea of Chris just showing up at Ellie's apartment left him uneasy. Assuming his brother knew where she lived.

"No, I'm going to go find her and talk to her," Chris replied with a shake of his head. "We both know I'm eight months too late to just call her like everything is fine between us."

"You can't just show up, Chris," Scott insisted. "You should give her some sort of warning that you're wanting to fix things. A phone call would be the best way to do that."

"That's assuming she hasn't blocked my number," Chris pointed out. "And on the off chance she hasn't, who says she would even answer the call? Or that she won't hang up when she realizes I'm the one calling?"

"She hasn't and she won't," Scott assured him. He knew Ellie hadn't blocked or deleted Chris's number because he'd looked when he'd seen her the other day. As for the second part, he was certain that she would answer the phone for Chris. If only to make sure that everyone was ok.

"I have to talk to her in person," Chris stated in a tone of finality. "Even if it's just to tell her I'm sorry."

Scott sighed, but nodded his head, as if giving his permission, which meant a lot to Chris. He knew that Scott and Ellie had gotten closer during his absence and Scott had been there for her. Oddly enough, he even appreciated the balancing act his brother was doing to protect Ellie but also help him.

"I don't suppose you'd give me her address," Chris asked, hesitantly. He didn't want to cause problems between his brother and Ellie, especially if things didn't work out for the two of them, but it was worth a try.

"I don't know her address," Scott replied. It wasn't a lie, exactly. He didn't know the address of her apartment or even the address of the bookstore. He could tell Chris where Ellie's apartment was, but he didn't want Chris to catch Ellie off guard. Like his brother, she needed time to process things and having Chris just show up on her doorstep would not be ideal.

"Then I guess I'll start at the bookstore," Chris reasoned. "That's where I was planning to start anyway." He frowned as a thought crossed his mind. "She still works at the bookstore, right?"

"Yes," Scott told him, making a mental note to call the bookstore when he had the chance to give them a heads up. "They have later hours right now because of the holidays. You'll probably want to go on Monday. That tends to be their slow day, though with Christmas right around the corner, that might be different."

"I'm going tonight," Chris stated. "And I knew about the later hours, I saw it on their website. I plan on getting there right before closing time."

"Oh," Scott said, hoping his voice sounded calm despite the panic that Chris's words had caused. Then he remembered that Ellie wasn't working that night. He couldn't remember exactly what she was doing, but he thought it had to do with the afterschool program she'd been helping with. Possibly a Christmas party? Whatever it was didn't matter. All that mattered was that someone else would be at the bookstore and she would get a heads up that Chris was looking for her before they met. He wondered if Ellie would believe him if he sent her a text in the morning saying that Chris had shown up at the house.

"... and that's my plan," Chris's voice trailed off.

Scott blinked and then coughed awkwardly as he realized he'd missed Chris's plans while panicking. "Uh, sounds like you have it all planned out then," he said, hoping his voice didn't give anything away.

"Yeah, I guess," Chris replied, nodding, his mind on his plan. He'd spent hours formulating it and it was almost time to put it into action. He took a deep breath and turned his attention back to the disaster that was his closet. "I suppose I should deal with this."

"Good idea," Scott said, his mind on making the phone call. "I'll let you do that. I need to go make a phone call anyway."

It wasn't until Scott had left that Chris felt the weight of the pressure he'd succumbed to the night he'd walked away. Unlike that night, however, his heart was able to push past his chaotic thoughts. Starting with the overturned hamper, he picked it up, thankful that someone had taken care of the dirty clothes that had been in there.

It took him a couple hours to get everything picked up and the clothes from his suitcases put away. The hardest part of it all had been the sweatshirts that Ellie had borrowed from him. He smelled each one, hoping they'd still smell like her, but they didn't.

Around two in the afternoon, he gave in to the mental and physical exhaustion he was feeling and laid down for a nap. He slept for a couple of hours and woke up feeling a little groggy, but also recharged.

Hearing his stomach growl, he made his way downstairs and found the house empty. Going into the kitchen, it took him a few minutes to remember where he had moved things to in the kitchen, but eventually he had what he needed to make himself a sandwich.

With hours to kill, he thought about going downstairs to watch tv, but he wasn't sure he was ready for that. At least, not on his own. The basement, even more so than his bedroom, held so many memories for himself and Ellie. It was where they had built their friendship and where it had grown to be more.

Instead, he went back upstairs to take a shower before trying to figure out what to wear. All black seemed too dramatic, but he didn't feel right wearing anything she'd told him she loved seeing him wear. The goal of tonight was for her to see that he was back in town and for him to at least apologize to her. He hoped that she would give him a couple minutes to explain things, but he didn't want to push her to do anything she wasn't comfortable with.

He spent the remaining time going over every aspect of his plan. He purposely hadn't written down what he wanted to say, because he didn't want it to sound rehearsed, but he had a general idea. If all went well, Ellie would be at the shop when he got there and then he'd either talk to her or make plans to talk to her another time.

He felt nervous, but oddly calm at the same time. He was as ready as he'd ever be.

With two hours until closing time, he left the house and made his way to the Los Angeles neighborhood that the bookstore was in. He gave himself more than enough time to get there, not wanting to risk getting stuck in traffic and getting there after they closed for the night.

As it was, he got there a good forty-five minutes before closing time and stopped for coffee before finding a parking spot in front of the shop. He sipped his coffee as he waited, mentally going over everything he wanted to say to Ellie. Assuming she let him talk and didn't run him out of the shop.

With five minutes left until closing time, Chris got out of the car and made his way to the shop. The bells jingled above his head as he came inside.

"We're closing in -" A friendly voice started to say before switching to a less friendly one when he came into sight. "Oh. It's you."

Even though he'd never met Veronica, the shop owner, he knew that was exactly who the middle aged woman was. "You know who I am?" he asked, hesitantly.

"You're Ellie's actor," the woman replied, pursing her lips. "I'd heard you were in town."

"Scott," Chris said, suddenly feeling annoyed with his brother. Obviously that had been the mysterious phone call he'd had to make. "Look, I'm just -"

"I know you're trying to find Ellie," Veronica interrupted him. "Go sit in the break room. I'll be with you in a minute."

Confused, Chris followed her directions and made his way into the break room. It was as he stepped into the back room that he picked up on a familiar scent that rocked him to his core. Ellie had been here or maybe her scent was just imprinted on the place since she worked here. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed the smell until now.

"I dated an actor once," Veronica's voice said from behind him.

Chris turned to face her, waiting for a clue as to how it applied to himself and Ellie.

"It was the worst experience of my life," Veronica continued. "He was the vainest man I'd ever met, in the end. At first, he treated me like a queen. Taking me to parties and events with other famous people. Then something changed and it became hell for me. It's been thirty years and I still can't say one nice thing about him."

"I'm sorry you went through that," he said, still confused. "But you're right, Hollywood is filled with some pompous assholes."

"And are you one of them?" she asked pointedly.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I will admit that I let Hollywood and fame in general get to my head when I was in my twenties, but that's not who I am anymore or who I want to be."

"Ellie and your brother would agree to that, I know," Veronica told him. "Which is the only reason you are in the break room right now and not standing outside."

As she crossed her arms and leveled a protective look at him, Chris realized what was happening. His brother had obviously clued her into the fact that he was back to talk to Ellie, but Veronica had taken it a step farther, wanting to protect Ellie from anymore heartache if she could.

"I fucked up," he said, simply. Obviously, he had mentally prepared to talk to Ellie, not her boss, but if he had to play hardball to get the chance to talk to her, he'd do it. "And I hurt her in the process and I regret that."

"Now you're back," Veronica stated, visually unswayed by his words.

"Now I'm back," he confirmed. "I don't know if I can fix things, but I want to try. If she'll let me."

"And if she won't?" Veronica pressed.

"Then I walk away. Forever," Chris promised. Squaring his shoulders, he added, "I'm not here to tell her I love her. I'm not saying I don't, but I know that my words aren't worth shit to her, to you, to anyone who knew about our relationship."

Veronica's eyebrows rose at his confession, but she didn't interrupt.

"I just need a chance to talk to her," he continued. "My brother wanted me to call her, but I know this conversation has to happen in person. It's been too long for it to happen any other way."

As if triggered by the word 'call', Veronica's phone started to ring. He saw her take it out of her pocket and saw the look of surprise that crossed her face.

"Excuse me for a minute," she said before disappearing into a private office and closing the door.

Sighing, Chris sank down into a chair at the table. Dealing with an overprotective boss was not something he had planned. Let alone his brother tipping off said boss. That said, he was happy that Ellie had people looking out for her.

Hearing the door open, he saw Veronica putting on a coat.

"Mr. Evans, you are lucky that I believe in fate," she told him as she turned off the lights in the office. "I assume you brought your car?"

"Uh, yes," he replied, more confused than ever, as he stood up.

"Good, Ellie needs us," she told him. "I'll let you drive."

"Is she ok?" he asked as he followed Veronica out of the building via the door in the alley.

"She's fine, but Santa just called saying he was going to the ER for appendicitis," Veronica explained as she locked up. 

"Santa?" Chris repeated. What the hell was she even talking about?

"The costume should fit you," Veronica continued as if not hearing him. She led him down the alley and to the street.

"Wait? You want me to dress up as Santa?" Chris said, finally catching up. Sort of.

"Yes," Veronica replied, turning to look at him. "Unless everything you said in the break room was a lie."

"It wasn't," he said firmly, finally knowing something for certain.

"Good." Veronica nodded as they reached his car, the only one parked in front of the bookstore. "The community center is a ten minute drive from here. We'll need to hurry though. The kids are expecting Santa and Mrs. Claus to hand out presents."

Head still spinning in confusion, Chris followed her directions to the community center. Then found himself ushered down a dark hallway to an office.

"Your costume is in there," Veronica told him. She opened a door and all but pushed him inside.

Mind still trying to catch up with what was going on, it took Chris a minute to see the Santa costume hanging on a coat hook. Still not sure what this all had to do with Ellie, he grabbed the red, fake velvet pants and was in the process of pulling them on over his jeans when the door suddenly opened.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a woman dressed as Mrs. Claus come into the room. Her costume consisted of a red velour dress that matched Santa’s costume, a white curly wig and a pair of fake glasses.

Glasses that circled eyes he knew very well.

Eyes that widened when they saw him standing there. 

"Chris," Ellie said in a tone of disbelief.

Episode 26

Want to find me off tumblr? I'm @beccatheycallme on twitter. I also post my stories on AO3.

Tag List: @nomadicpixel​, @heather-lynn​, @alievans007​, @mrs-captain-evans​, @stopjustlovethemcu​, @thewannabewriter​, @guera31​, @badassbaker​, @chezdricks​, @patzammit​, @katiew1973​, @zoeloveschrisevans​, @marvelouspottering​, @pegasusdragontiger​, @smoothdogsgirl​, @peaceinourtime82​, @ek823​, @anionthewrite​, @mizzzpink​, @giftofdreams, @janeyboo​, @princess-evans-addict​, @jesseswartzwelder​, @avenger-nerd-mom​, @furrywerewolfcollector​, @ladyamandapanda12​, @gigglegirl77​, @poisonedyouth-americanbeauty​, @jennmurawski13​, @theladybiers​, @rapunzel-flynnrider, @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss, @animnerd​, @tvjunkie08​, @coldmuffinbanditshoe​

My tag list is always open, just let me know if you’d like to be added!

[gotham-rat]

pandemic headcanon time!

dick

by the sixth day, dick was starting to lose his mind in his apartment, and thought, “fuck it, I’m quarantining at the manor” so he showed up, in the same ratty t shirt and board shorts he’d been wearing for a week. alfred just sighed and opened the door for him to come in. he managed to dig up his robin themed fidget spinner he’d bought years ago, and constantly flicks it around. he’ll do anything to avoid the slightest boredom: walks on his hands, flips over anything he can, the smaller the space the better. he hasn’t had a vacation or break in years. he’s not used to do doing nothing. he hates it. every fiber of his being wants to punch someone in the face just to feel something. he decides the best way to quell the boredom is to pester his siblings. it’s gotten so bad that now, if he enters a room full of them, they’ll all scatter faster than he can blink.

damian

he’s an animal crossing quarantiner. you can fight me on this. and he has a weird obsession with red’s fake art. in fact, he’s picked up painting as something to fill time and will replicate the fake famous paintings. bruce thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world, and when damian throws his paintings away after finishing (he doesn’t care about them that much) bruce always swipes them and hangs them up and tweets about it. damian also is a little bit on the germ-freak side. not a lot, but the situation makes him uncomfortable. if anyone has to go outside he insists on masks and bringing hand sanitizer and staying at least seven feet apart. otherwise he’s been pretty chill.

bruce

bruce, like dick, doesn’t like being cooped up but can at least function. his kids have noticed that he spends just a little too much time on twitter nowadays though. he likes playing games at dinner like “would you rather”, but always takes it so seriously that no one else can really enjoy them. he’s slowly falling out of his work out routine. he ate cheese puffs for the first time because of jason. he hasn’t had time to read a book for fun in years, and now he’s going through stacks of them. he takes them out of tim’s room or orders them online. he’ll sit outside or in his office and read for hours. the cutest thing is when tim and bruce have both read the same one and they talk about. they’ll have full discourse about characters and plot points and arcs and sometimes even get into arguments. it’s pretty entertaining to watch.

tim

tim is, well, he’s definitely found a way to spend his time. if you walk into his room you’ll find three different boards tacked up on the walls. newpaper cutouts and prints and pictures pinned with red string on each of them. he hacked into the gcpd database and is pulling out a whole bunch of cold cases. he’s literally already solved one and called the victim’s family about it. out of all of them he’s probably broken the lockdown rules the most because his cases have required him to sometimes go out and look for people, places, etc. but he does most of it remotely. he stays in his room when he’s not working on a case, only emerging for coffee or a seriously needed melatonin. he’s trying to fix up his sleep schedule a little bit, but it’s not really working. he’s resolved to having at least one randomly placed nap in the day, which is better than constantly staying up.

steph

steph got the fuck out of gotham. as soon as word was spreading about a possible lockdown, she hugged them all goodbye and booked a cheap flight to california. she knows some people there and is currently quarantining with them. they have a beach house and everyday she’s outside: swimming, tanning, surfing, snorkeling. she’s embraced it fully as a well deserved break. and lord knows she needed it. she’s constantly facetiming the others, and making fun of them for being stuck in bleary gotham.

cassie

no one sees her, except when she comes out to swipe some snacks. at this point bruce isn’t really sure if she’s actually staying at manor. in reality, she is, she just sleeps a lot, or climbs out the window and onto the roof to chill. she sketches and sketches, having already filled up three notebooks since quarantine started. alfred is the only one who knows she sneaks out onto the roof. he doesn’t say anything. sometimes she’ll sleep up there and take pictures of the moon and stars and sunrise cause she likes something pretty to look at when she’s sad. her current thing is binge watching shows. she’s pretty obsessed with a few ones on netflix. she tends to hyperfixate on a few characters for a while before moving to others.

barbara

barbara is not at the manor. she’s staying in her own apartment but is rarely there. she volunteers anywhere she can. she sets up signs at the gotham hospital to thank workers, she lends a hand to the gcpd a lot when they’re short on staff and need help. she shuts lockdown protests tf down on social media. because of how big her platform is on twitter, she uses it to post updates and information and just keep everyone well informed. she’s the only batfam member who contracted corona with serious symptoms, but that was in march and she’s tested negative for it now. recently she ordered specific masks for everyone in the family, including alfred ofc, and sent it to them as gifts. when she’s not out volunteering or helping, she stress bakes. a lot. it’s all recipes she actually learned from bruce and she safely hands out her sweets to essential workers.

alfred

he has abandoned all responsibilities. the waynes can clean up their own damn messes. he literally just chills, checks on cassie, plays the occasional board game with dick. sometimes he does leave just to drive around fairly empty gotham. he doesn’t get out of the car and still wears a mask so it’s all safe but it’s just to relax for a bit. he’s also invested pretty heavily into some podcasts.

jason

jason is having a breakdown. he keeps spray sunscreen by his bedside, so when he’s sad he can spray it into the air and get a whiff of it for seratonin, softly whispering “beach” to himself when he does. he has stubble climbing over his face, mismatched socks, and is in the most need of a haircut. he’s always falling asleep on the couch, the kitchen floor, by the pool. he keeps trying to make food (and he sucks at cooking) and has almost cut off his fingers everytime. now he has three bandaids on his right hand and two on his left. one’s normal, another is pokémon, there’s a lightning mcqueen one, a bright pink one, and another is batman themed. now he just tosses something, anything into the microwave and consumes it mindlessly. he doesn’t know the time, or what day it is. he likes to float face down in the pool until someone comes out and says “jason, it’s time to get out before you die” and he grudgingly does so, only to go and lie face down in the living room for a while.

[strawberriestyles]

Chapter 1

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles​)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read the prologue here.

Author’s note: YAYAY HERE WE GO IT ONLY TOOK ME HALF MY LIFETIME TO GET ENOUGH CHAPTERS STACKED UP!!! Please let me know what you think, and reblog!!!

The weather had warmed almost back to its usual summer temperatures. Melody felt like it was a sign. Harry was improving. Every day, even every minute, he was gaining something back. Just days ago he had cleared his throat and whispered something that Melody hadn’t been able to make out. It was a start.

She ran her thumb along the petal of a lily on the windowsill. Bea had sent them with her the day before. A sort of apology to Harry, she supposed, for her lack of kindness. But Bea hadn’t felt that it was appropriate for her to visit Harry, not yet. Not after the way she’d treated him since they met. And Melody couldn’t wait for them to right those wrongs, to see each other in the same light that she saw them.

“It’s beautiful out today,” Melody said as she turned toward Harry. “I wish it would stay.” She settled into her chair and wrapped her hand around Harry’s. “Do you want me to read?”

Harry squeezed a ‘yes' into her fingers, so she curled her legs up beneath her and pulled the book she’d been reading aloud from the table beside her. She’d started over the day after Harry had woken up, because despite what she’d wanted to believe, he hadn’t been able to hear her reading to him while he was unconscious. Or if he did hear her, he couldn’t remember it.

Melody flipped to her bookmarked page and licked her lips to begin the new chapter.

“Yeh changed your hair.”

Her arms jerked the book from her hands. It fell to the floor in front of her chair, cover bent back, as she sat forward again. Her eyes searched Harry’s face and settled on the sharp curve of his pleased smile. “You’re talking? You just talked.”

“I like it.”

Melody shook her head. Bea had dyed her hair for her, and had even re-dyed it since that first time. A shade darker than strawberry blonde, almost red, coppery.

“The first thing you wanna talk about is my hair?” she asked. Her voice was gentle. She didn’t really care what he wanted to talk about, she was just grateful that he was speaking at all. Even if it sounded like his vocal cords had spent years collecting dust in some abandoned attic. Like the air was being dragged over rough gravel.

“Well, it looks good.”

Melody pressed her palms to her face and took a shuddering breath. Harry’s face fell.

“Are yeh cryin’?”

Melody shook her head again and folded her hands in her lap. She let out a weak laugh. “No, I’m not crying. I could.” She stared at his curious face, now open and expectant like a child’s.

“Oh, God,” she muttered as realization dawned, finally climbing to her feet. “I need to get Dr. Florin.”

“No, she knows,” Harry said.

Melody paused, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“They’ve had some fancy speech doctor in here whenever yeh’re gone.”

She dropped back down into her chair and scratched at the cotton of Harry’s bedsheets. The only type of rehabilitation she had seen was the physician who came in once a day to test Harry’s movements, help him stretch out his limbs, begin rebuilding his weakened muscles. But they had been doing that stretching even when he wasn’t awake. It was nothing new to her.

“I don’t know whether I’m upset that no one informed me or if I’m just glad that you can talk back to me, now.”

“Can finally tell yeh to fuck off, right?”

Melody whipped her head upward, but Harry’s eyes were dancing, his lips twitching.

“That was a joke, Mel.”

She felt all of the muscles in her body coil and then relax. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed hearing her name on his lips, especially the shortened version.

“Mentioned your hair ‘cause it was the first thing I noticed,” Harry continued when she didn’t seem like she was amused by his attempt at a joke. “Have yeh also been…workin’ out?”

Melody did laugh at this. And to Harry’s horror, she also let out a stuttered sob. Tears dripped down her cheeks. She wiped at them quickly.

“Why’re yeh doin’ that?” he asked frantically. "What did I say?”

“No, no,” Melody rushed. “I just—” She slipped her fingers into her hair and rubbed at her overwhelmed head. “It’s been a while. For me. You’ve missed a lot. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Harry had taken the news of his coma surprisingly well. And he seemed to have no trouble believing that Colton had caused it. He didn’t even seem fazed when he heard that Colton still hadn’t been found, even seen. It was the time gap that seemed to cause him some trouble. Melody had watched the pulse on his monitor spike when he’d learned that nearly five months had passed. Five months. And Melody had yet to fill him in on what had happened in the meantime. Now that he could ask questions, she supposed it was time for those conversations.

Harry blinked lazily and then turned his eyes away from her. “Far as I knew, I went to sleep that Tuesday yeh saw me after trainin' and woke up here the next mornin’.”

“Jesus Christ,” Melody muttered. “Harry I could tell you I’m sorry a billion times over but I—”

“I don’ wanna talk about that. Let’s just say I forgave yeh, okay? Since Sean told me yeh basically moved in here.”

“Wait, did he know you were talking?”

“Yeah.”

“That dick.”

Harry chuckled, that deep rumble in his chest, and Melody thought she might cry again, so she worked herself through deep breaths.

“Yeh didn’ answer my question,” Harry said, perhaps to distract her. He didn’t want any more of the crying. He’d seen enough tears in the past couple of weeks, even if she tried to hide them, to blink them back. “Yeh’ve been workin’ out?”

“Yes,” Melody answered with a thin smile. “I can’t really see the difference.”

“There’s a difference,” Harry assured her. “Yeh look good.”

Melody felt herself blush like she was back in high school, like she hadn’t been in a relationship with Harry, like he hadn’t seen her completely naked on countless occasions. She pressed her fingers back to her heated cheeks. She wished that she could say the same about him, but Harry had grown thinner, paler. And even months of uninterrupted sleep couldn’t help how tired he looked. The skin around his eyes was sunken and bruised.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “You keep complimenting me.”

Harry chewed at his lower lip. He didn’t tell her that it was because he felt bad for her, like he’d put her through the ringer. She wouldn’t appreciate his pity. In fact, it didn’t even make sense in his own mind. He was the one who’d been shot in the head. By someone he shared blood with, at that. He’d missed five months of his own life and of hers. But he kept thinking about if the roles had been reversed, if Melody had been the one in this bed, if he was the one sitting there waiting for her to wake up. It didn’t matter what kind of arguments they'd had, the idea was still painful. And he didn’t want that thought running through his head. So he was trying to alleviate some of the trouble she’d probably been going through, to sop up some of the pain and fear that seemed to have spilled.

“Can yeh show me your workouts, then? What is it? Hot yoga?”

“Shut up,” Melody laughed.

“No, ‘m serious. I’d love to see that. Probably have to strip down to just your—”

“Harry, shut up!” she shouted, leaning forward to clap a hand over his mouth. It was amazing to her, how quickly they could just fall back into step. Five months of worrying whether she’d ever get the chance to fix things between them, and it all seemed like a thing of the past in a single day.

“Yeh know,” Harry said as she peeled her hand away, “just started talkin’ to yeh today and yeh’re already tellin’ me to shut up. Tha’s not a good sign.”

“Yeah, well maybe if you weren’t trying to be cheeky.”

Harry let his eyes fall closed as Melody’s fingers brushed back hair from his forehead. Her touch was gentle and he felt her skim the shell of his ear, the side of his head where his hair was shorter than the rest, where they’d shaved it down to the scalp five months earlier so Dr. Florin could assess the damage the bullet had caused and try to patch it up as best she could. He wondered how terrible the scars there looked, if they were hideous or impressive. He hadn’t been able to get himself to look in a mirror.

“Thought yeh liked when I’m cheeky."

“Oh, thank God.” Melody and Harry both turned their heads toward the open door when they heard Vanessa’s voice. “I’ve been blowing up like a balloon about to pop not telling you, Melody.”

“Are you joking?” Melody demanded, sitting back. "Did everyone know? Why are we keeping me out of the loop?”

“Doc thought it’d be better if you didn’t have to watch him struggle with his speech. And that was the skill that she thought he’d recover fastest, so surprise!”

“I hate surprises,” Melody muttered.

“Well, I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Vanessa continued as though nothing had happened. “It’s that time again, Harry.”

He hummed, not pleasantly, Melody noticed. Vanessa didn’t seem to care whether he was annoyed or not. She went about her business all the same, checking his vitals, asking him innocent questions about how he was feeling. He replied only in grunts and short words.

“You know, Doc also said Melody might be able to take you for a walk out in the garden if you’re feeling up for it today. It’s very nice out.”

Harry perked up almost immediately. His entire demeanor toward Vanessa shifted. It was visible in his face, in the way that his fingers curled at his sides.

“Okay.” She chuckled and finished scribbling stats onto the clipboard she held. “Well, your vitals are good, too. I’ll get a chair and a couple of nurses in here.”

Vanessa didn’t notice as she left the room with a smile of her own, but Melody watched the way that Harry seemed to deflate. He stared blankly across the room, his lips set stonily. He had been out of bed a few times, had even tried standing with assistance, but no one could keep him on his feet for long. She knew how much it frustrated him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked gently. “Did you change your mind?”

“No.” Harry shook his head. Melody waited for him to speak again but he didn’t, and she didn’t press. Everything about this felt eerily familiar.

They waited for the nurses to bring Harry a wheelchair, him patiently and her not so much. She’d wanted to get him outdoors for days, had been begging Dr. Florin. She thought it would do him some good and she was grateful for the opportunity that the nice weather and Harry’s surprisingly good condition had provided. Anything that might lift his mood and make his recovery less dismal.

The nurses arrived. Stocky, broad men. Despite the physical withering that had eaten away at him, Harry still had a good amount of muscle. It just needed to get used to constant movement again. But he wasn’t light and Melody couldn’t move him, no matter how much working out she’d been doing.

The men waited while Melody slid a pair of stretchy hospital pants onto Harry’s limp legs. He didn’t want these strangers touching him. In fact, he didn’t seem to like many of the medical workers very much at all. Not even Dr. Florin. He did like his physical therapist, though—a short but fit man who reminded Melody a lot of Sean in the way he spoke and joked.

Melody waited then while the nurses unhooked Harry from his monitor and scooped him out of the bed, one on each side, arms under his thighs and around his back. They lowered him slowly into the wheelchair that they'd brought, arranging his legs for him, and then they left the room.

Melody watched Harry’s eyes avoid her throughout the entirety of the process. She didn’t mention it. She could only guess how he felt, having to be moved around and carried. She hoped that when he wanted to discuss it, if he wanted to discuss it, she wouldn’t need to pry. Maybe this new dynamic that they were discovering would make opening up easier for him. She hoped for the best.

Melody kicked the chair’s lock out of place and wheeled Harry straight out into the hall without another word.

***

Outside in the garden, it was even nicer than Melody had expected from looking out the window. She and Harry had walked around in circles for almost a half hour before he’d asked her to stop.

“Just wanna sit in the sun,” he’d said.

Now they were just sitting. Melody, actually, was sprawled out on the grass before him, her eyes closed against the light. Harry was watching her, the way her hair shone differently than it did when it was blonde, with an almost pinkish hue. Even her eyebrows were this new shade. He noticed a scar at the edge of her left brow where no hair was growing. He didn’t think he’d ever seen it before, but he wasn’t sure if it was just a glitch in his memory. Everything was so different and strange. He didn’t ask her about the scar. He just let her lay there and relax, even if he couldn’t. Watching her relax calmed him.

“Are you staring at me?” Melody asked. She cracked an eye open, fanning her fingers out over the dewy grass beneath her.

Another wheelchair rolled past them. It was a middle-aged woman pushing a younger child who might’ve been about eight years old. The boy was hooked up to an oxygen tank and he was hairless and pale, and Harry had never wanted to be somewhere else so badly in his entire life.

“When do I get the fuck outta here?” he asked when the boy was out of hearing range.

Melody pushed herself up into a sitting position and tilted her head at him. She took a deep breath. The air smelled sweetly of the flowers that had survived the city’s brutal and dry August. The summer was Melody’s favorite time of the year and she was disappointed that Harry had missed so much of it—all of it, really. It would be seven or eight months until the weather started to warm again, now that fall was beginning to arrive.

“It’s probably gonna be a couple more weeks.” Melody lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the afternoon sunlight. "They just wanna make sure you’re really okay. And I’m sure they’re gonna start working you back on your feet pretty soon, okay?”

“This shit sucks.”

Melody let out a breathy laugh and rose onto her knees in front of him, nodding. “That’s why I thought you’d like being out here.”

Harry glanced around again. He would have liked it a whole lot better if he could have walked himself around the winding paths instead of having Melody pushing him around. It was beautiful, though. All of the bushes were well pruned and the flowers were arranged into bright beds of color. He wanted to be laying in the grass with Melody.

“Are you hungry?” she asked him. “We could go back in and get some food from the cafeteria. It’ll be like a date.”

“A date?” he asked. “In a hospital? Tha’s a bit of a downgrade from an art exhibit, yeah?”

“The food’s better,” she said, and when she leaned forward to kiss him, Harry was caught too off-guard to do anything but sit there. But he felt the familiarity of her lips and smelled her perfume, a scent that he had memorized long ago, and it finally felt like there was something that he could hold onto from before everything that he was missing.

He blinked at her when she rose to her feet. She blinked back and mumbled a quiet “sorry” before rounding his chair to lead him inside. They didn’t talk about the kiss or what it might mean while they ate stir-fry and chocolate cake together, and Melody left with just a quick squeeze of Harry’s hand late that evening.

Chapter 2

[lilas]

rules: answer 30 questions and tag blogs you are contractually obligated to know better

tagged by: thank you for tagging me @narrativefoiltrope you are a star 🌟

tagging: @admdmrtn​ @masonscig​ @agentnatesewell​ @silverletters​ @mepheesto​ @agentsunshine​ @masonsfangs @moociferdoomcifer​ I love you all please give me facts for my brain (but also i understand if you don’t want to 💕)

(i’m changing a few of these questions, and you can too! i deleted some from the format, and any questions i added are marked with *)

name/nickname: Megan/Meg or Megs

gender: she/her

star sign: ✨ SAGITTARIUS BABY ✨ (cancer rising, and sagittarius moon)

height: 5′6″

birthday: November 25th

lucky number: 9

when did you create this blog: probably 2011 or 2012, but I didn’t actually become active until 2020 when I got involved with Wayhaven

what do I post: Mostly art, sometimes writing. Mostly Wayhaven, but also other interactive fictions and some video games. Hunter x Hunter is thrown in occassionally

last thing googled: the name MacTavish and photos of girls braiding each other’s hair

do I get asks: I do! :D Mostly from friends, but I’ve been getting more anons recently and I love every last one. I have a stack of prompts and requests living in the inbox right now.

why I chose my url: lilas (I pronounce it ly-lus) is a ship name for two characters in this story I have with one of my best friends; their names are Lilac and Silas. Afterwards I found out that “lilas” (pronounced lee-la) is also the french word for lilac, so that was a fun moment for me.

*my current projects/wips: an illustration of Nat Sewell before she washes up on shore after her transformation, Love in Wayhaven, and planning a series for May. Also a few writing WIPs.

favorite bands: Muse, The Family Crest, and San Fermin

favorite solo artists: FKA Twigs, Janelle Monáe, Tessa Violet, Florence + The Machine, and probably some others idk

song stuck in my head: It Keeps Us Dancing by The Family Crest

favorite song: I LITERALLY CAN’T DECIDE DON’T ASK THIS OF ME (but if I was held at gunpoint, probably Jackrabbit by San Fermin)

last movie: that I remember paying attention to? Knives Out (ONE OF MY FAVS GO WATCH IT NOW)

last show: The Haunting of Hill House

favorite food: This I literally can’t decide, I love so many different kinds of food! My favorite restaurant of all time though is a Thai street food restaurant. Might go get some today.....

*food I hate: Cilantro. I know most people think it’s the best ever, but it’s GROSS and I hate it.

*favorite color: orange, but like... a blood orange

*favorite animal: sloths. They’re so cute!! Just!! AH!!

what I’m currently wearing: yoga leggings, and a t-shirt from work

dream job: art director or a director of photography 🤩

dream trip: i want to go everywhere! I can’t decide just one place! I guess currently though, I just want to go to a nice warm beach and bask in the sun and swim and drink margaritas

*currently reading: This is How You Lose the Time War

*currently thinking about: work shenanigans, the update+ Mishka posted on Patreon today with an intimidating detective, and laundry

nationality: USA! but I was also born in the Netherlands and had dutch citizenship for a while :D

*fun fact: Both of my pinkies are crooked (like at the joint closest to the fingertip, it bends at an angle instead of just going straight). It’s a hereditary trait from my dad’s side of the family.

top three fictional universes: ofc Wayhaven, Hunter x Hunter, and I guess Mass Effect.

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

The Smile - Chapter 2/7

A Pairing: Loki x OFC

Summary of the story: She was a mutant with healing powers. Avengers were her family and she did all she could to protect them. She always tried to see the good in others. The smile. Beautiful and unique one was something she noticed in Loki and fell in love with. But not every love story ends the same way, and not every prince comes on his white horse and the story ends with a happy ending… Or maybe?

Story Warnings: Angst, a bit of violence, psychological issues like low self-esteem, depression, anxiety; swearing, eventual fluff and smut - maybe.

A/N: This is my first Loki story I have written, so I am quite excited. I planned to post it as a two-chapter story, each with around 10 000 words but assumed it was too much, so I will divide into 7 parts. I portray Loki as a bit of a dick here, so I hope you will bear with me and despite all this will enjoy reading this story, as much as I do writing it :)

If you want to be tagged to this or any other of my stories, please send me an ask <3

Words: 2851

"I have not seen her outside of work for two weeks!" Bucky said, eating one of the curry dishes she had left for the team. "We had a quick small talk when I took Wilson to the med bay, and that was it!" Everyone knew what he was truly feeling. She has always enjoyed being a part of the team. She always tried to find some free time to meet at the Stark dinner. They always saw her around the kitchen smiling or making awful jokes. But not anymore.

"She's working more than I do" Tony sighed, taking a sip from his water bottle. He looked and sighed happily not to see this one person in here. "You know... I thought she would stick more often due to the Reindeer Games..." Everyone knew about her little crush on the Prince of Asgard. And everyone also knew how her feelings were one-way. "She sent me details about the birthday party for the little bastard. She still remembered and was planning on it."

"I have a weird feeling her acting like that has a lot to do with this son of a bitch!" Clint chimed in. Well – let's just say he has still not condoned Loki for what he did to him. "And throwing him a birthday party is the last damn thing I wanna do. But" He took a long sip of the beer and smiled. "It's a good occasion to see her, right?"

"She has not put herself on the guests' list." Everyone turned to Tony with a mix of surprise and anger.

"So, she has planned all this, and she is not even coming?" Steve asked in a complete shock. He was never good with understanding women. And doing it in the 21st century was not better at all. Liz was always friendly to him. The first friend he encountered. The first person who noticed him, Steve Rogers, and not the Captain. She has become a close friend, and he did not want to see her hurt. Not after what she has done for him and for Bucky.

"Well, that can be rearranged", Natasha smirked evilly. No one asked. If Black Widow had a plan it meant that it will work. No matter the cost. And sometimes it was better not to ask.

**

There were a lot of the Avengers that she expected to see in her office, but Natasha Romanoff was not one. She frowned when she walked in with her everyday clothes on and a smirk on her lips.

"We're going shopping", she exclaimed, leaning on the wall next to the doors. Elizabeth raised her brow and sighed.

"Have fun", she answered taking another paper from the stack on her desk. The agent was taken by surprise with her witty come back, but smiled and shook her head.

"You and me. Knowing you, there is nothing in your closet fo the whole God's birthday party thing." Liza looked up and shook her head sadly.

"No need. Am not coming." She declared. The pathetic side of her still wanted to make this party happen. For the person who actually hated her. She was that sad.

"You prepared this party, so you are coming, even if I will need to drag you there with force." The Russian smiled victorious, seeing the girl sigh deeply. She shook her head in defeat and stood up, closing up the papers and taking her purse with her.

"You won't give up right?" The redhead shook her head grinning like a child of a devil itself. So Liz gave up. There was no way in hell that she would be able to make Natasha Romanoff give up on her plan.

**

She looked at herself in the mirror while Wanda was finishing her make-up and Natasha was doing the last touches with her hair. The Sokovian did an incredible job hiding all the black bags under her eyes. And despite the makeup, hair and the beautiful dark-green long dress, she did not believe a word they said, about how beautiful she looked. She did not see herself like that, and deep down, she knew that Loki would not even glance at her.

She did make the Avengers promise that none of them let him know, that it was her tjat prepared the party. She didn't want him to look at her differently only because he felt a bit grateful. She wasn't even sure if he would actually enjoy it. She made sure it was only Avengers and some of the new agents working with the team occasionally coming. Not too many people, not a big party, but enough to make him feel welcomed.

"Look at you. If Loki doesn't ask you for a dance, I declare him gay!" She couldn't help but chuckle at Maximoff, who straightened and looked at the girl happily. "I have to say you look stunning! All the work-out paid off", she bit her lip, realising what she said.

"You... You knew?" Liza asked looking at both of the women, who nodded their heads.

"Sweetheart, you really think that a team of assassins and agents would not notice one of their leaving the compound at the unholy hour? I asked Steve to leave for his jog a bit later. I felt like you did not want us to know... Not like I understand." Nat said, smiling at the girl in the softest way she could manage.

"Let's go... I don't want to be late..." She finally said, hoping to change the topic. The other two nodded letting it go. She looked at them and felt a bit jealous. Wanda was wearing a beautiful semi-long black dress, while Natasha had a long red one, that made them both look amazing.

"Smile, you have a beautiful smile", Maximoff winked at the girl and took her under her elbow, pushing her towards the elevators.

**

The party wasn't big. Just the Avengers and agents who were associated with the Avengers somehow. Not many but for her, it was still too many. She was sitting at a bar, looking around all the people who were talking, laughing and occasionally flirting. She took a sip of her diet coke and sighed deeply, hearing some people joking loudly.

"What does a girl like you do in a place like this?" She looked to the right, smiling, to see a familiar face near her. "Damn you look beautiful, doll", she couldn't help but blush at the very forward flirting from Bucky. She knew it was innocent but it was nice to hear it from a man.

"You're not looking bad either, soldier" she teased back. And that was not a joke. He looked incredibly handsome in his black suit and hair done to the back. He flashed her one of his smiles and order one more whisky. Checking her own drink before showing the waiter for another whatever you were drinking.

"Diet coke? Really?" He joked, taking a sip of his own alcohol. She smiled and nodded. "I missed you", she widened her eyes looking at him in a surprise. "We haven't really talked. I saw you at med bay but that's it... You missed all of our dinners... I know you are at the compound because there are always cookies waiting for us."

She bit her lip ashamed and looked down at her glass. She wasn't sure what to say. They all knew about the stupid feeling she had for God but it was too embarrassing for her to say it out loud. Even to Bucky.

She became good friends with him. Really quickly. He understood her, the same way she understood him. It wasn't hard to talk to him. He listened and didn't expect anything in return. But this she couldn't tell him, even though he already knew.

"I'm sorry. I had a lot of paperwork to do", she lied, having a quick glance at the long-haired demigod who was currently talking to a long-legged redhead. She bit her lip and downed her drink.

"You were always an awful liar, Liz!" She smiled sadly at his soft eyes. His metal hand landed on hers. It was thanks to the woman, that he was starting to be ok with the HYDRA addition to his body. It was thanks to her he started to accept himself. "And he is an idiot. The biggest idiot." The girl bit her lip once again and got up, but frowned when he stopped her with a hand on her wrist. "Let's dance." Her eyes widened at his statement. It wasn't a question. He just got up, downed his whisky and pulled her to the dance floor.

"I can't dance, Bucky", she panicked, clenching onto his suite, when he pulled her close. She hid her head in embarrassment at his chest and let him take control. The song was slow and smooth. His metal hand was gently gripping her waist, while the other one was on her shoulder. She swallowed hard and mimicked his movements.

"You did an amazing job, kid. If he will ever make you cry I will kill him!" She looked up and smiled softly.

"Careful Buck, if Nat would hear that she may get jealous!" He snorted amused and turned you around. It was not a secret that he and Romanoff were slowly going back to what they reportedly had in the red room. It was cute to watch them shyly approaching each other. She was happy for them, very deep down inside jealous, that she does not have what they have.

"You're still alive despite all the nights spent in my room. I think you're fine." He joked, making you giggle. This made him smile. You had a beautiful smile. The one that always reached your eyes. He hasn't seen it for a while, so it made him proud to have that effect on the woman.

"I'm happy for him", she put her cheek on his shoulder and looked in Loki's direction. She was sure he glanced at her, but she quickly acknowledged that it must have only been her imagination. He was too absorbed at the now openly flirting woman, with whom he will probably spent the night. Because who was she kidding. Loki was a handsome man, that was very open to women's attraction. "I just wished he didn't hate me", there she said it. She didn't want to pull off Barnes, not to see the disappointment or sadness in his eyes. She can handle it. After all her whole life has been a huge disappointment.

"Come on doll! He doesn't hate you" she couldn't help but snort at the answer. "He's just really... well..."

"It's ok, James" he flinched, as she only called him by his first name when she was really done with him. "I'll head back into my room."

"Its your party!" He hissed, not happy to see her leave.

"Its his party. His birthday. I was just an organiser. He doesn't even know that anyways." She pulled her hand away from him and turned around to just leave the room, when she bumped into something. The curse from a redhead has made everyone stop and look at the  scene. "Oh God, I'm so sorry!"

"You should be!" The redhead raised her voice. All her drink was all over her black dress. She looked pissed. "Damn you should watch where you're going!"

"I'm... I'm sorry, let me pay you back for cleaning it up."

"It was an accident, agent Smith!" A booming voice of Captain America came from behind. The woman squinted her eyes at the man and hissed.

"Do you know how much money I spent on that dress, doc!" She spilled the last words at the girl. She flinched and took a step back. She wasn't good with arguments. Not to mention everyone was staring at her.

"I'll pay you back, I'm sorry" the girl whispered, looking down at her shoes, when she noticed Loki approaching the scene.

"What's happening here?"

"Why dont you control your little partner, Loki? I think she's forgetting who she's talking to!" Rogers made a dangerous walk towars the agent, who must just realised that she was in presence of one and only Captain America. The demigod looked at the redheads dress and the girl, who had her head down.

"Steve, please. It's ok..." she whispered, holding him by his forearm. "It was my fault. Agent Smith has a right to be angry." He looked down and his look soften when he noticed the tears in his friend's eyes.

"From what I gathered, agent Smith was talking to Doctor Call and not you, Captain?" Loki interjected with a smirk, which made the redhead woman happily clench into his arm. It wasn't as he enjoyed the woman's company that much, but he did miss the touch of a beautiful woman for a while now. And for a midgardian she was a pretty picture to look at.

"Liz is a part of the team. She is an Avenger,  Loki!"

"An avenger?! Her!" The agent laughed looking at the fragile girl. "The only reason director Fury got eyes on her was of her petty abilities. A freak that's all she is!" The redhead then turned around and taking Loki with her, she left the room, making everyone gasp at the scene.

"I'll make sure she will pay for that" they heard Tony's voice from beside. "Her and Loki."

"No please," Liz whispered and let go of Cap's arm. "It was my fault, really!" They froze seeing her tears. She never cried in front of them. She never let them see her weak. Not until one. "I'm gonna go!" And without a word left to say, she left the room, making the atmosphere change completely.

**

He looked at the naked women next to him and frowned, not able to take her words out of his head. 'FREAK'. if this is what she thought of Call than what the hell was he?

He sighed and got up. He felt dissapointed. As much as his primary needs were satisfied it was not what he expected from a fierce, mouthy woman like her. It was boring he would say.

He looked at the clock and sighed. Pathetic. It didn't even last long enough for him to truly enjoy it. He got up to leave the room for some walk to the roof, hoping to nkt see her in his bed, when he will be back.

He was halfway through when the doors of the elevator opened and a freezing woman walked in. She froze in place and looked away automatically. He frowned. It was 17th of December. It must be freezing outside for a mere human and yet here she was in her dress and heels on. Not to mention that this was not her floor.

"What are you doing here?" He asked in a low voice. She swallowed hard and took a step closer. It was just now he noticed her red, puffy from crying eyes. She took the money out of her bag and handed them to him.

"Can you please give them to Agent Smith? I... I hope that's enough for cleaning" he gasped, taken by surprise. She went outside in that weather to take money from the machine only to pay the woman back.

"I'm not a money handler" he hissed, but still accepting the cash.

"I know... I'm sorry." She sniffed quietly. He wasn't sure whether because of the weather or the crying. "By the way. Happy Birthday!" She smiled to him. But it was different than the normal one. It never met her eyes and sen thin a sad vibrations. "I hope you enjoyed the cake..."

"I told you I don't like sweets" despite the cold respond his voice seemed to be a bit nicer. But it could only be her imagination.

"Thor... Thor told me you had that one when you were kids... I'm sorry. I just wanted to make you something special." He couldn't help but think that the blush on her cheeks was quite cute and adorable.

"Why?" He took a step towards her, making her take a step away. He frowned. She wasn't afraid of him, so he could not understand why she did this.

She bit her lip and smiled sadly, turning around towards the elevators. She pressed the bottom and waited. When the doors opened she walked in and turned towards him.

"Because I wanted to see you smile. Even if it was only once." He widened his eyes but couldn't say a word as the doors closed.

This night he found himself abandoning the roof trip and waited for the party to finish. He put the money and a little letter to the redhead on his nightstand and walked to the kitchen when no one was there to be found. He found a cake and took a bit, feeling like memories were slowly coming back. It tasted almost the same as Frigga made. He smiled and took another piece, finishing what was left of the cake by himself.

MasterList

[ashtray-girl]

I was reading a W.H. Auden poetry collection and among the poems there’s the opening from The Mirror and the Sea (Prospero to Ariel), which is basically Auden’s reinterpretation of Shakespeare’s The Tempest. I found it mesmerizing in general, but this specific part made me think:

Tell then of witty angels who Come only to the beasts, Of Heirs Apparent who prefer Low dives to formal feasts; For shameless Insecurity Prays for a boot to lick, And many a sore bottom finds A sorer one to kick.

Morrissey wrote a song called Heir Apparent which, according to Mozipedia, is about him “returning home to Manchester only to spot an idealistic younger version of himself about to follow his footsteps to London with ‘wide-eyed’ dreams of success. The singer is unnerved by his heir’s seeming naiveté, warning him of the perils of an industry destined to ‘seduce your heart then smack your arse’. Yet beneath his sage cautioning, there’s the implicit jealousy of a corrupted veteran longing to relive his own lost youth, as if irritated by his handsome young successor’s ‘winning smile’.”

While I mostly agree with this interpretation, there are some other parts of this poem that make me think there’s more than meets the eye (especially if we consider that: a) Auden was gay; b) this was around the time of the Joyce trial, when Morrissey was reunited with the rest of The Smiths after a long time).

Specifically:

Inform my hot heart straight away Its treasure loves another, But turn to neutral topics then, Such as the pictures in this room, Religion or the Weather; Pure scholarship in Where and When, How Often and With Whom, Is not for Passion that must play The Jolly Elder Brother.

(according to the book’s footnotes: The Jolly Elder Brother = a platonic love)

and also:

Are you malicious by nature? I don’t know. Perhaps only incapable of doing nothing or of Being by yourself, and, for all your wry faces, May secretly be anxious and miserable without A master to need you for the work you need. Are all your tricks a test? If so, I hope you find, next time, Someone in whom you cannot spot the weakness Through which you will corrupt him with your charm. Mine you did And me you have: thanks to us both, I have broken Both of the promises I made as an apprentice; - To hate nothing and to ask nothing for its love.

Ofc this is nothing but pure speculation, but let’s say Morrissey = Prospero and Johnny = Ariel. This looks to me as if Prospero is worried about Ariel not needing him anymore, but he’s also reproaching him for tricking him with his charm and taking advantage of him.

(And here I can’t help but think of how recurring the word charm was in The Smiths’ work... This Charming Man... That part in Hand In Glove: “For the good life is out there somewhere / So stay on my arm, you little charmer.” That part in I Know It’s Over: “With your triumphs and your charms / While they’re in each other’s arms.” And also in Morrissey’s solo years, in Seasick Yet Still Docked: “Wish I had the charm to attract the one I love / But you see, I’ve got not charm”.)

Bear in mind I haven’t read The Tempest, so I’m only vaguely familiar with the original plot, but this reads to me like blatant homoerotic subtext. It’s like Prospero and Ariel were lovers, but Prospero now regrets their relationship because he feels like Ariel played him and left him with nothing.

Then there’s this part:

I am very glad I shall never Be twenty and have to go through that business again, The hours of fuss and fury, the conceit, the expense.

If we go back to Heir Apparent, that’s basically what the song’s about, even though there’s also an underlying current of nostalgia. (”You think it’s so easy, I tell you - it isn’t.”)

And then... there’s this:

Now our partnership is dissolved, I feel so peculiar: As if I had been on a drunk since I was born And suddenly now, and for the first time, am cold sober, With all my unanswered wishes and unwashed days Stacked up all round my life; as if through the ages I had dreamed About some tremendous journey I was taking, Sketching imaginary landscapes, chasms and cities, Cold walls, hot spaces, wild mouths, defeated backs, Jotting down fictional notes on secrets overheard In theatres and privies, banks and mountain inns.

If you’ve read Morrissey’s Autobiography, you will surely remember how LONG and excruciatingly detailed the part about the Joyce trial is. Like, I’m pretty sure he wrote it that way as a form of therapy for himself. Also, he was very disappointed in Johnny’s behaviour and in what he perceived was a lack of loyalty towards him but I feel like that experience, as bad as it was, must have been freeing as well. Like, imagine: you stand by your best friend no matter what but, when you’re the one struggling, they leave you to fend for yourself in order to save their own skin. As heartbreaking as that is, after a while you may start feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You don’t need to cover for them anymore, you can go and live your own life without worrying about them, much in the same way they have. To be clear, I don’t think that the trial’s result was as unfair as Morrissey depicted it (that entire situation was a huge mess from start to finish), but it clearly affected him in a deep way, so much so that he moved to the US shortly after the final sentence was announced. (It’s interesting to note that in the poem, Prospero is also about to leave the island he shared with Ariel.)

Then there’s this part, which might be my favourite:

Can I learn to suffer Without saying something ironic or funny on suffering? I never suspected the way of truth Was a way of silence where affectionate chat Is but a robbers’ ambush and even good music In shocking taste; and you, of course, never told me. [...]

I see you starting to fidget. I forgot. To you, that doesn’t matter.

Considering the fact that Morrissey made an entire career out of writing ironic songs about his suffering, I think he would find those first two lines way too relatable. As for the rest, it feels like Prospero learned the hard way that being too frank with your own feelings can cause more trouble than relief and he resents Ariel for not warning him of this beforehand, but at the end that doesn’t matter, because Ariel has his own life to take care of and he will be fine even without Prospero. (Here, I can’t help but think of I Keep Mine Hidden: “Hate, Love and War / Force emotions to the fore / But not for me of course, of course / I keep mine hidden / But it’s so easy for you / Because you let yours flail into public view.”)

The poem ends like this:

Sing, Ariel, sing, Sweetly, dangerously Out of the sour And shiftless water, Lucidly out Of the dozing tree, Entrancing, rebuking, The raging heart With a smoother song Than this rough world, Unfeeling god.

O brilliantly, lightly, Of separation, Of bodies and death, Unanxious one, sing, To man, meaning me, As now, meaning always, In love or out, Whatever that mean, Trembling he takes The silent passage Into discomfort

It’s time for Prospero to leave his island, and for Morrissey to leave his past behind.

[thecreatiivecorner]

A Little Fun

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC

Summary: Cara decides that the gang needs to have a little fun. Turns out that’s not such a good idea.

Word Count: 3143

Warnings: Angst, choking, a kiss, season 14 spoilers!!.

A/N: I should not have written this because I do not have the time but... here we are. Dean Winchester would not get out of my head and I couldn’t focus on anything else. 

Feedback is much appreciated! This may have a second part... someday.

This takes place around the time of S14 E12 of Supernatural. Please don’t read this if you don’t want spoilers. 

Cara is struck with an overwhelming sense of anxiety and depression as she enters the bunker. It hangs in the air like a thick smog, closing in around her as the door slams, alerting everyone to her presence. She had just made a grocery run since the boys have been too busy lately and she was sick of eating crackers and beer for every meal. Mary meets her at the bottom of staircase, smiling brightly and grabbing a few of the bags from her hands.

“Is there more in the car?” She questions.

“Yea. Jack, do you mind?” Cara asks, holding out the remaining bags in her hand. Jack jumps up from his seat at the map table, grabbing the bags and giving her a polite smile. “I’ll grab the rest.” She announces as she turn and retreats back up the stairs.

Over the balcony, she can see that Castiel and the boys are still focused on the books and screens in front of them. She wouldn’t be surprised if they hadn’t even heard her come in. That is if they even noticed her absence in the first place. They’ve been working nonstop for the last week, trying to find a way to get Michael out of Dean’s head. Their slumped postures and heavy bags under their eyes are a clear display of their lack of sleep. It hurts her heart to see them like this. Even though she knows it is necessary, she wishes they didn’t have to push themselves so hard.

When Hannah returned with the last of the bags, Cas was now waiting for her with a meek smile. He grabs some of the bags and escorts her to the kitchen. Mary is already sorting through the other bags when she enters. Setting the bags down, Cara decides they can handle it themselves. Only one item matters to her. Searching the bags, she spots the pre-cooked apple pie and pulls it out, grabbing two plates and plopping a piece on each one. It’s not much but it should at least bring a smile to Dean’s face.

After both pieces were heated up in the microwave, she grabs two forks and makes her way into the library. Neither Winchester has moved an inch in the last 10 minutes. Cara sets the plates in front of them. Almost as if she startled him, Sam looks up at her with a polite smile.

“Thank you, Cara” She returns the smile with a nod and nudges the other plate towards Dean.

“Dean? There’s pie. Freshly re-heated, just like you like it.” She says when he doesn’t acknowledge the pie, or her for that matter.

“What about this? It’s a spell that transfers magic from one object to another. There must be some juju left in the spear. We could transfer it to a different object like a knife or, even better, a bullet.” Dean completely ignores Cara, speaking to Sam as he reads from the old book in his hands.

“No. Rowena already tried that. “Nearly lost my bloody eyebrows tryin’ that one.” I think is how she put it.” Sam does a dramatic impression of Rowena. Dean rolls his eyes and turns the page with a frustrated grunt as Sam glances between Cara and his brother, clearly seeing her saddened expression. Flashing her an apologetic smile, he returns his attention to the screen in front of him.

Later that night, the boys still haven’t moved apart from occasionally searching the bookshelves only to return to the exact same position with a different book in hand. Cas has returned to his spot next to Sam, studying every word on the pages of his own text. Mary and Jack are in the map room, searching through boxes of old Men of Letters files. Cara is sitting cross-legged on top of the second table in the library. Her own stack of books spread out in front of her. That unnerving air has settled in the room once again, making her shift uncomfortably.

“This is ridiculous.” she mumble under her breath, shaking her head. No one could hear her even if they weren’t so focused on their research. Looking around the room she notices Sam is clutching his hair at the roots as he rests his head in his hand. Cas is gripping the old text so hard she wonders how he hasn’t ruined the book. Then her eyes land on Dean. Her Dean. The poor man is visibly shaking. Sweat drips down his temples and his brow is so furrowed, she swears the wrinkles will never go away. All she wants to do is comfort him and tell him that she will alway be there for him. Tell him that it’s going to be ok. He’s going to get through this just like he has gotten through everything else in his life. But she can’t. One, because she’s not even sure herself, if that’s true. And two, because he doesn’t feel the same way she does. He made that clear only a few weeks ago when he told her to leave. The only reason she’s still here is because Sam convinced him that they need all the help they can get right now. Sam has always been so sweet to her. He treats her like a little sister and she loves him for it, but Dean is different.

When she met the Winchesters, they were in the midst of dealing with the British Men of Letters. Cara has familial ties to the group but that’s where her relations end. She hates her family and everything they believe in. So she moved to the States, or more like fled, and became a hunter. When she met Sam and Dean, she took it as an opportunity to get some revenge on her family. That and the fact that she didn’t want them invading the states anymore then the brothers did. She had made a new life for herself here and she wasn’t about to let them ruin it again. She had told herself she would only stick around until the Brits backed off and then she would cut ties. That, of course, is easier said than done. At first she told herself she was only staying in case Ketch caused any problems. Then there was another excuse and another. After a long talk with Sam, she finally admitted that she stayed because she didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to be alone anymore. What she didn’t tell Sam was that she was also staying because she had began to fall for his big brother.

It didn’t take long for Sam to trust her but Dean questioned her motives every second he could. Sometimes she thinks he still does. She can never put her finger on it but he always acts so cold towards her. At first she thought maybe she reminded him of someone. She’s heard the stories and knows they’ve lost a lot of people in their lives. Sam always tried to reassure her that it was nothing she was doing wrong but that didn’t make it any easier. Her feelings for the man who seemingly hates her are completely irrational but she can’t seem to care. There’s just something about the way he’s so selfless and caring, even if it isn’t towards her. And of course he’s the literal personification of sex appeal.

She slowly shakes her head again, appraising the gloomy atmosphere of the room.

“This is ridiculous!” She shouts, finally getting the attention of everyone. Mary, Sam and Cas look up in surprise, Jack looks surprised but confused, but Dean is just glaring at her. “Ridiculous.” she mutters again, hopping off the table.

“Caroline, are you ok?” Cas stands slowly, looking genuinely concerned now.

“First, I told you never to call me that.” She points an accusing finger at him. “Second, no! I’m not ok. None of us are ok!” She slowly walks around the table like she’s giving a motivational speech. “I mean come on! Look at us! Seriously. When’s the last time any of us had fun?” Dean rolls his eyes and huffs, returning his attention to the book in his hand.

“Cara, I think we have more important things to be doing right now.” Sam’s soft, caring tone is a harsh contrast to the exhausted look on his face.

“I know this is important. Believe me, I do! But what’s the point if we all run ourselves into the ground in the process.” The pitiful faces around her make her realize her point is not being made properly. Thinking for a moment, she moves back to the table she was working on and grabs her phone. Fiddling with it, she looks up and smiles.

“We need to have a little fun. It could be good to take a break for a minute.” She taps the screen and suddenly AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” starts blaring through the bunker. Everyone looks around in surprise. When the beat drops, Cara begins bouncing to the rhythm. She walks up to Cas, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the table, dancing to the music despite his lack of enthusiasm. He looks back to Sam and the others, almost asking for help. Mary and Jack are clearly trying to avoid laughing. When he turns back to her she’s animatedly lip syncing along to the words “knocking me out with those American thighs.” Cas’ expression breaks and a bright smile forms on his face. He turns to the others and shrugs his shoulders. Mary and Jack have begun to bounce to the music. Sam stands and joins Cas and Cara, lip synching to the words, hesitant to dance along but slowly his resolve is breaking too.

The songs ends and “Back in Black” begins to play. Out of the corner of her eye, Cara catches Dean standing to leave the room. Quickly, she chases after him and grabs his arm making him spin around. His cold expression doesn’t stop her from bouncing to the beat and dramatically lips syncing along. She grabs his wrists, flailing them around in the air, just trying to be silly and make him, at least smile. He hasn’t pulled away so she takes that as her cue to keep going. Grabbing a water bottle from where the boys were working, she jumps on the table and starts performing like she’s singing into a microphone. She can see Deans expression softening as she drops to her knees, really getting into her performance. When the song ends she takes a mock bow and blows kisses to her fictional audience, mouthing ‘thank you’ and dramatically faking getting emotional. “Old Time Rock & Roll” by Bob Seger starts and she returns her gaze to Dean who, to her excitement, is finally smiling. She smiles brightly as he motions her to get down, grabbing her hips to help her jump off the table.

“Hey guys!” Sam shouts from the other side of the room. They all turn just in time to see him slide on his socks, into the middle of the room, lip syncing to the iconic lyrics. Everyone bursts into laughter. Cara notices that Dean’s hands are still on her hips and he’s pulled her against his chest. His laughter sends vibrations through her body and she makes a mental note to never, ever forget that feeling or the look on his face. She doesn’t realize she’s staring until he looks back to her. His smile is bright and honest but she can still see the pain behind his beautiful green eyes. His smile turns to a sly smirk when the music turns instrumental and suddenly she's spun around, ballerina style, only to be pulled back towards him and dipped upside down. She’s shocked when he pulls her back up. His laugh is pure and genuine and she can’t help the ridiculous smile on her own face.

The songs comes to an ends followed by “Paranoid” by Black Sabbath. Cara looks around at everyone dancing and laughing and it makes her heart swell. She’s become attached to these people and she’s beginning to feel like a part of their family. She looks back to the man who secretly owns her heart only to burst into laughter at the sight of him air guitaring very animatedly to the song. He catches her watching him and pulls her towards him, flailing her arms much like she did to him only a few minutes earlier. He starts to calm his movements as he looks into her eyes. She swears his eyes drop to her lips for a second. He’s swaying his hips, completely out of tune with the music. His hands, now on her hips, encourage her to match his off beat rhythm. The song is dying down when he leans his head down, his lips ghosting over hers almost as if he’s contemplating his next move. On the last few notes of the song, he crashes his lips with hers and everything comes to a stop as she melts into him. Time seems to stop. She feels his hands snake around her body, one resting between her shoulder blades and the other on the small of her back. She senses him pulling away and the she thinks it’s the worst feeling but she has no idea how wrong she is. She looks up at him with a small smile but Dean keeps his eyes down.

Like some sick and twisted theme song, Dean’s eyes snap to meet hers but they flash with an electric blue glow just as the eerie gong of “Hells Bells” by AC/DC enunciates Michael’s presence. Cara screams and tries to push away but she’s trapped in the vice-like grip of Michael’s hands on her hips. Sam frantically tries to stop the music as everyone suddenly becomes defensive. Michael smirks and tilts his head as he eyes her like she’s a meal ready to be devoured.

“Dean!” Cara screams as Michael tightens his grip on her hips, surely leaving bruises. Suddenly her airway is blocked by a strong hand around her neck. Anger flashes on Dean’s face as she clearly pissed off Michael.

“Dean!” Sam growls as Cara begins feeling light headed. She claws at the hand around her neck, knowing it’s no use.

“Dean, please.” She croaks. “Please come back to me.” Her voice is fading as consciousness evades her. Dean’s face contorts and suddenly the blue glow flickers and fades. She sees the moment Michael becomes Dean again. Realizing what he’s doing, he immediately releases Cara, stumbling back as she falls to the floor, gasping for air. Sam and Cas are by her side in a second. Mary tries to check on Dean but he shoves her away, rage quickly forming on his face. He stomps towards Cara causing Sam to reflexively move between her and his brother.

“This is your fault!” Dean aggressively jabs his finger towards her, clearly fuming about what just happened. She goes to speak but Dean stomps out of the room before she can.

Mary and Jack rush to check on Cara but she just stares at where Dean left. Sam stands to go after him but Cara stops him.

“I’ll go.” She nods to Sam as Cas and Jack help her to her feet.

Cara searches the bunker, eventually getting to the garage. She checks around each car, finally finding Dean sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall next to the Impala. His elbows rest against his knees and he has his head in his hands.

“Dean?” Cara meekly speaks, knowing he’s going to explode on her. She dreads it but she knows she deserves it. After what feels like forever, he finally lifts his head. Her heart breaks when the tears in his eyes glisten in the low lighting. She can tell he’s doing everything he can to maintain that strong exterior and hold them back but she sees them. She takes a step towards him but he puts his hand up.

“No! Stay away from me.” The way his voice cracks breaks her heart all over again. Tears begin to well in her own eyes.

“You won’t hurt me, Dean.” She speaks softly, trying to keep her own voice from cracking.

“Are you kidding me.” He gawks at her. That anger she was fearing comes to the surface a little more. “Cara, I just did! Look at your neck. The bruises are already showing!” Cara brings her hand up, covering the welts on her skin and shaking her head.

“That wasn’t…”

“Don’t give me that ‘it wasn’t me’ shit! It was me! This is my fault! I made this choice and now I’ve…” He cuts himself off to avoid more tears forming.

“Dean. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Suddenly he stands up, startling her a bit.

“You’re right. You weren’t.” He states calmly but she can see the anger fuming in his eyes. “I want you gone by morning.” He steps past her, quickly walking toward the door.

“Dean!” He turns, angrily taking a step back towards her.

“And don’t come back!” He points an aggressive finger at her before spinning and exiting the garage, leaving Cara stunned in place. Tears now flow down her cheeks.

Later, Cara is in her room, packing what little she owns into a bag when she hears a knock on the door.

“Yea?” She shouts, quickly wiping the tears from her face. When the door opens, she looks up to see Sam, meekly entering the room with an apologetic look on his face.

“Cara.” He can clearly see the redness and puffiness of her eyes.

“It’s ok Sam. I talked to Jodi. I’m going to stay with her for a while until I can figure out my next move.”

“Let me talk to Dean. He’s just upset right now.”

“No Sam. I have to go. If I don’t, he will. I don’t know about you but I certainly don’t want him out there by himself with Michael in his head.” Sam doesn’t say anything. He knows she’s right even if he hates it. “I’m not going to stop helping you guys. I just won’t be here doing it. I will do anything for him. If that means leaving, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“Please call me when you get to Sioux Falls.” Sam steps forward, pulling her into a tight hug. “And if you get tired, stop at a motel.” He pulls away, keeping his hands on her shoulders

“Yes mother.” Cara playfully pinches his side making them both smile but sadness returns to both their faces quickly.

Not being a fan of goodbyes, Cara leaves before Mary, Jack or Cas can find her. As she pulls away from the bunker, she watches her family disappear in the rear view mirror.

Tags: @wonderlandmind4

[ohprettyweeper-moved]

Open Your Eyes (Part 3)

Chapter Summary: Everyone heads home for the holidays.  Pairing: Tyler Joseph x OFC, Frank Iero x OFC Word Count: 2020 Warnings: None? A/N: I needed something fun and cute to write with low pressure so that I could stop worrying about a more serious piece I’m working on for a bit. This five-part crossover series was the result! It’s cheesy and fluffy and is probably akin to something you’d see on the Hallmark Channel, but that’s how I intended it to be. Thanks to @razor-tothe-rosary for your help and encouragement! Enjoy reading, everyone!

Wanna be tagged?

Masterlist

Emerson normally hated flying, but today she didn’t mind the airplane ride. She was heading home to Jersey to celebrate Christmas with her family and help her mother execute the perfect wedding. Not only was she reuniting with her family for a less hectic schedule over the next few weeks, but Jeff had agreed to come for Christmas. They had resolved their differences, and he was going to meet her in Jersey after his trip to Orlando.

She stepped off the plane and headed right for baggage claim. There was no reason to dawdle when Jeff should be waiting for her. After two phone calls, though, he didn’t answer.

Emerson told herself not to panic; he was on a business call or waiting to see her, or had forgotten to take his phone from airplane mode. She walked confidently through the crowd until she got to the carousels dealing out suitcases as they were unloaded from the airplanes.

When she had her bags and had moved on to the sidewalk, she still hadn’t spotted Jeff. Sighing, she found her phone and called him again.

“Em, listen, I can’t talk long. I’m in a meeting.”

“A meeting? Jeff, you’re supposed to be in Jersey. Remember? Christmas? With your girlfriend?”

He sighed. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m going to make it. Listen, I just -- maybe this is better. We’ve been fighting and our lives are going different ways. Maybe we need some time apart.”

Emerson choked back tears and swallowed down the lump in her throat. “So you don’t think you’re going to make it, or you knew all along you weren’t going to make it? I mean -- did you even buy a plane ticket?”

Jeff sighed. “I’m sorry. I’ve really got to go.”

Emerson held the phone up to her ear for another few seconds, even after the call disconnected. She didn’t know what to do. If she called her mother, Tanya would be upset and dramatic, and Emerson couldn’t handle that right now. Who else was she going to call?

Frank had told her he would be in Jersey for Christmas, too, maybe he was available. She bit her lip, trying to decide if it was too early in their acquaintance for a cry for help. Finally, after a few minutes of looking at her phone and dropping it back into her pocket, she exited out of her Uber app and dialed Frank’s number.

“Emmy,” he greeted, smile evident in his tone. “You back in Jersey?”

She swallowed hard. “Um, yeah, I am. I don’t want to bother you -- if you’re busy, I totally get it. It’s just -- I’m stuck at the airport, and I can’t get a hold of my mom. Are you available?”

“Yeah, of course. Give me about thirty minutes, okay? Be there in a flash.”

“Thank you,” Emerson said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I’m on the sidewalk outside of baggage claim.”

Frank described his car so she would know who to look for, and also promised to call when he got close.

Emerson sat down on a bench and finally let the tears fall. Her career was at a great point, but she was homesick, even being on Jersey ground. And her love life … she had known for a while that Jeff was pulling away, that things weren’t good, but she had thought it was just a rut. She never expected for him to leave at all, let alone like this.

She hadn’t heard Frank call her, she was crying so hard. Next thing she knew, an arm was around her shoulders. She looked up to see Frank sitting next to her, so she quickly swiped the tears away.

“I’m sorry, my phone was in my bag, and I --”

Frank interrupted her apology. “Don’t worry about it. Wanna tell me what’s got you so upset?”

She pursed her lips together. “Jeff’s not coming. He was supposed to meet me here at the airport, but when I called him, he told me he wasn’t coming. I think it’s over.”

Frank’s arm tightened around her shoulders. “He wasn’t really nice to you, from what I know. Not that we know each other well enough for me to be saying this, but maybe you’re better off.”

“You may be right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“Fair enough. C’mon, we’ll hang out before you go home. Then your mom won’t freak out -- which I’m guessing is really why you didn’t call her?”

“Busted.”

Frank took her hand in his left and pulled her suitcase with his right. “Stick with me, Emmy. We’ll get you through this, together.”

Through her lingering tears, Emmy smiled. Together didn’t sound so bad coming from Frank.

Vanessa, Americus’s agent followed Americus around her room while she packed to leave for Ohio.

“I told you. I haven’t felt grounded in months. I need to go back to Columbus. Need, emphasis on need.”

The other woman groaned, leaning against an open space on the wall. “But you have two shoots before Christmas, and one before New Year’s.”

Americus sighed. “It can’t be about shoots anymore, Ness. It can’t be about shoots and parties and meetings and appearances. I don’t know who I am anymore, but it’s not this -- this person who plays the part of the elite crowd.”

“How much of this has to do with you running into that guy you know from when you were a kid?” Vanessa asked, frowning as though she might have been on to something.

“None of it,” Americus answered. She rolled her eyes. “Not all of it. I’ve been feeling this way for a while and seeing Tyler just cemented that I need to do this. Tell them I’m sick, tell them I quit -- whatever you have to do. But I’m not going to be there for those shoots, and I’m not doing anymore appearances and interviews until I figure some things out.”

She zipped her bag and shouldered it, grabbed her camera bag and her backpack, then turned to Vanessa.

“The sooner you get me to the airport, the sooner I can get home and figure out what I’m doing with my life.”

Vanessa groaned again but followed her client out to the car for the drive to the airport.

Emerson checked the time on her phone. “I should get going. I can only convince my mom of a plane delay for so long.”

Frank smirked. “You ready for that?”

“I don’t know,” Emerson sighed, setting her head against her hands. “I don’t know if I’m ready to deal with Christmas and a wedding and a break-up.”

“So don’t deal with it yet,” Frank replied, matter-of-factly. “Come hang out with me. I know a killer record store not far from here, you can crash in my guest room. Nothing shady, I promise.”

Emerson surprised herself by how appealing she found his offer. She licked her lips and thought about it before slowly nodding her head. “I mean, maybe my flight gets re-scheduled. Or something.”

“Or something,” Frank laughed, “that’s a good one. What do you say, Emmy?”

She loved that he called her that. No one had ever shortened her name to anything but ‘Em’ before. “Okay, fine. But I don’t want this getting out, okay? We have to keep a low profile. I really don’t want anyone thinking we’re hanging out to boost up my career or anything.”

Frank rolled his eyes and gathered his keys. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

Emerson grabbed for her purse and followed Frank to the car. The record store sounded exciting, right up her alley -- and who knew what else the night would bring.

“Okay. This one,” Frank said, pulling Bon Jovi’s Keep the Faith from the stacks of records. “Best record Bon Jovi ever made.”

Emerson rolled her eyes. “No way! Slippery When Wet.”

“No way,” Frank said, waving her off and sliding the record back into the pile.

“Seriously? Are you even from Jersey? Like, for real?”

Frank laughed. “You’re funny. Genuinely funny.”

“I am,” Emerson nodded. “Thank you. You’re fun to hang out with.”

Frank smiled. “Yeah. I am.”

“Well, I’m going to buy these, and then we can get you home, if you want. I’m sure you have family to hang out with or something.”

“I’ve got a free evening, actually. When you called -- I, uh, sort of canceled the plans I had with my friends. So if you needed me …”

Emerson’s cheeks hurt, she was trying so hard to keep her smile reined in. “I appreciate that.”

“Sure.”

It took some deep breaths stepping up to the register, but Emerson managed to stamp down the butterflies and her nerves, remind herself that she had just broken up with Jeff that day, and that there was plenty of time to get to know Frank -- and she also reminded herself of exactly what she had told him, that she wasn’t going to get involved in anything that might make it look like she was trying to climb the fame ladder.

Americus had been in town for a couple of days and decided it was time to get some Christmas shopping done. After two days of doing absolutely nothing but hanging out with her father, and it was time to get out in public.

Once she was seated behind the wheel, she dialed Tyler’s number. He answered on the second ring.

“Hey, kid. Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon,” he greeted.

Americus couldn’t help but smile to herself. “Yeah, well, I didn’t expect to be back in Columbus so soon. I’m going to do some Christmas shopping, and my dad said he saw you at church last weekend. So … yeah. I’m calling to see if you’d like to go Christmas shopping with me.”

Tyler chuckled. “Christmas shopping?”

“Yes,” Americus relied confidently. “What’s so funny about that?”

“I don’t know. Just picturing the new you going Christmas shopping. Figured you had someone to do that for you.”

Americus rolled her eyes. “Are you in or not?”

“I’m in.”

“Good. I’m already in the car. I’ll come pick you up.”

The mall was packed, but Tyler and Americus hardly noticed anyone else. A few fans approached the both of them for pictures and autographs, but it didn’t ruin their hometown reunion. They laughed and joked, just like it was old times, all the while crossing things off their Christmas shopping list.

“What do you want for Christmas?” Tyler asked her when they sat in the food court to take a break.

Americus shrugged. “Being home is pretty much all I wanted. Getting back on the ground, figuring out who I am.”

Tyler sipped from his soda. “C’mon. There’s gotta be something.”

“I don’t know. What about you?”

Tyler took a deep breath. “I want you to come on the next leg of the tour with us. Mark will handle the video portion, and I want you to do our photography.”

Americus’s mouth dropped open. “Ty … you haven’t even seen any of my work. Just because I said I like to take pictures, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Except that it does. I don’t have to see your work now, I saw it when we were in photography class in high school together. You were always taking pictures, of everything.”

“It’s not the same.”

He leaned forward. “You asked what I want for Christmas. I’m telling you. I’m offering you a job behind the camera.”

“How about I’ll consider it. Honestly, genuinely consider it. How’s that?”

Tyler pursed his lips together. “I’ll take it as a stocking stuffer. In the meantime, how about you and I go to Josh’s Christmas party together next week? Not like, together-together, but you can come with me.”

Americus smiled. “Okay. I’m in. Do I get to wear an ugly Christmas sweater?”

“If you want to,” Tyler laughed.

“For my Christmas present, will you wear one too?” she pleaded.

Tyler shook his head. “Only for you.”

Americus nodded and smiled. She had a lot to think about, but it was going to be a very good Christmas.  

[justthehiddleswrites]

Bah Hiddleston | Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Tamra Harmon) | Chapter 5 | Winner Winner Chicken Dinner

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Tamra Harmon)

Summary:  Tamra Harmon has no mind to mess with Christmas. All that talk about Christmas magic and the joy of the holidays is just a bunch of mumbo jumbo. But will a chance encounter with perennial Christmas lover Tom Hiddleston change all that?

This chapter:   A trip to the Natural History Museum leads to a friendly wager. Tom struggles with an inner turmoil and will the snow ruin all their plans?

Warnings for story: smut, oral sex, implied smut, vaginal sex, light angst

-

Tom tossed and turned that night, waking the next morning groggy and with a crick in his neck. He skipped his usual morning run to get some extra rest and slept through his alarm. He got ready as fast as possible, giving Bobby a quick pet before heading out the door.

When he arrived at Tamra’s, she is already outside, bundled up in her hat, scarf, and new coat.

“You’re late. Here hold this.” Tamra shoved two coffees and a brown bag as she turned to lock the front door.

“Breakfast?” Tom asked as he opened the bag to spy the contents.

“Pain au chocolat.” Tamra replied, doing a dead on impression of Tom. “I figured I would keep you in supply of chocolate. Did you sleep okay? You don’t look well.”

Tom ran his hands across his beard. He had hoped she wouldn’t notice the dark circles under his eyes. “Bobby kept me up. But nothing a good cup of coffee won’t fix.” Tom gave her a smile, and she returned with one of her own.

“Drink up.” She took the other cup and sipped. “We have a big day!”

“Lead on, museum expert.”

As they headed to the museum, Tom let his thoughts wander as Tamra gripped his hand to lead him through the crowds. He replayed Luke and Ben’s comments from the last night. They are imagining things. He told himself, rationalizing away the lump in his throat and butterflies in his stomach to lack of sleep and coffee.

They moved through the exhibits and Tamra described all the exhibits to Tom, pulling from display to display. Tom nodded and listened to Tamra’s voice. Her passion once again sweeping him up into a cloud of hubris.

“You’re quiet this morning.” She commented as they walked into another room.

“I’m enjoying your company. You explain everything so well.”

Tamra giggled. “I thought I might be boring you.”

“Not even close. Please continue on.” Tom gestured for her to lead the way.

They reached a special exhibit called “Crime Scene Live” and read the information and discovered you get to solve a crime and at the end you get to find out if you guessed the killer. They purchased tickets and headed into the experience.

“Care to make a friendly wager?” Tom commented raising his eyebrows.

“Terms?”

“First person to guess the killer wins. Loser cooks the winner dinner.”

Tamra tilted her head. “Deal.” She took off running. Tom soon followed on her heels.

“No running!” A docent warned as Tom zoomed by. Tamra giggled as Tom apologized before taking off at a fast walk.

Tom arrived at the first station with Tamra halfway through the task. The two of them worked fast and furious through each station. Tamra held a slight lead until they reach the fake blood. She froze as she stood staring at the vials.

“You’re not squeamish about fake blood, are you?” Tom mocked as he pulled on the protective gear before sitting down to begin the station.

“No.” she lied. She shuffled from one foot to another. Tom moved with a doctor’s precision through the station. “Okay maybe a little.”

“Sit down.” Tom insisted as he patted the seat next to him. “I’ll help you.”

Tamra gave him an uneasy smile but sat down next to him. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Tom finished up his portion first and then did the same for Tamra. He rose.

“You’re leaving?!”

“I intend to win.” Tom’s lips pulled into a large toothy grin. “You can move on once your results come back.” Tom took off and Tamra lost sight of him.

Her results came back a few moments later, and she took off. Tamra moved the stations as fast as she could and by the time came to enter results, Tom got there only a half a second before her.

“Damn!” she cursed as Tom reached the final station.

“And to the victor goes the…” Tom quoted as he input his answer. A big red X appeared on the screen. His face fell. “… spoils.”

Tamra pushed him out of the way. “What were you saying?” A green check mark popped up after she put her anser in. She raised her arms in celebration. She danced a circle around a dejected Tom. “You owe me dinner.”

“Well played.” Tom extended his hand. Tamra grabbed him into a quick hug. “Now let’s check out the rest of the museum.” She nodded and bounded off towards the exit. Tom discarded his paper in the nearest trash bin so Tamra didn’t spy his answers.

If Tamra’s energy level only skyrocketed after her victory. She bounced through the rest of the exhibits. She even smacked someone in the back of the head when she gestured with a bit too much gusto.

“So sorry!” she screamed as the gentleman threw a dirty stare their direction.

Tom pulled her close to him. “Perhaps we should leave the premises before they charge you with assault and I am named an accomplice.”

“Good idea. Lunch?”

“A woman after my own heart.” He commented.

They found somewhere nearby to grab some food. Tamra talked a mile a minute the entire time while Tom sat silent. He knew if interrupted she would stop talking, but he liked be on the listening end of the conversation. They spent the rest of the afternoon walking around the city. Tom pointed out all the festive decorations and every time, Tamra turned her nose up every time.

“Stop trying to make Christmas happen.”

“Stop fighting it.” Tom quipped back. “Christmas is not the enemy.”

“Maybe for you. But the only thing I associate with Christmas is heartbreak and my family falling apart.” Her voice cracked a touch on the word “family.”

Tom’s heart hurt at the anguish on Tamra’s face. “There must be a happy Christmas memory you have.” Tom’s hand moved in a circle as he grasped for the words. He snapped his fingers. “Your favorite Christmas present as a child?”

Tamra stopped in her tracks. “I don’t know. No one has asked anything about Christmas in a long time.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

Tamra shot him daggers. “Give me a second to reflect. What’s yours?”

Tom ran his fingers across his chin, bristling his beard. “For me, it would be this little cassette recorder. I would use to put on these little shows. Early seeds of my future career I guess.”

“Aww.” Tamra cooed. “Mine would be a Cabbage Patch doll.” Tom raised his eyebrows as if to spur the memory on. “My grandmother gave it to me. She staked it out at the store just for me. It was one of the last presents she got me before she passed away. I still have that doll up in my attic.”

“You never struck me as the sentimental type.”

“I may hate Christmas but I am not a monster, Tom! You never asked.” Her nostrils flared in anger.

Tom held his arms up in defeat. “I yield! You are right. I apologize.”

The conversation continued like this, with the two of them trading memories and snippets of childhood and young adulthood. Tamra burst into laughter when Tom showed her a picture of him with blonde curls.

“Like Little Orphan Annie!”

“Okay, let’s never say that to my face ever again.”

Daylight waned, and the time came to head to Tom’s for dinner. Tom’s mind raced as he drove the route home. He went through a mental checklist on the state of his home. Was the dirty laundry picked up? Dishes out of the sink? Bobby’s toys put away? Oh God, Bobby! What if he doesn’t like Tamra? What if she is allergic? He gripped the steering wheel with a white knuckle grip. Tamra gazed out the window at the passing houses. He spotted something out of the corner of his eye and made a sharp turn.

“What the hell!” Tamra remarked as the car came to an abrupt stop. Tom jumped out of the car and jogged to her side of the car.

“Are you going to get out and help me pick out a tree or not?” Tom opened the door for her.

“Do I have a choice?” she got out of the car, grumbling.

“Not really. Come.” Tom gave a hand to help pull her to her feet.

Tom took off amongst the trees on the side of the road. Tamra rolled her eyes and followed him into the makeshift forest. As Tom ran his hands over the trees, a light snow began to fall.

“Pick a tree so we can go.” Tamra whined as snow dusted her shoulders.

“Are you bothered by a bit of snow?” Tom teased as he grabbed a nearby tree by its trunk and gave it a firm shake.

“I don’t like the cold.”

“Then help. What about this one?” Tom held one out.

Tamra turned her head to the side. “The trunk is crooked.”

He put that tree down and grabbed another one. “The top is too sparse.”

Tom peeked around the tree. “For someone who hates Christmas you are awfully critical about Christmas trees.”

“Do you want my help or not?”

“At this point, I am leaning towards not.” Tom commented as he tossed the tree to the side. Tamra walked to the back of the lot. She disappeared behind a stack of trees only to emerge moments later, a tree in hand.

“This one.” She blew an errant lock of hair out of her face.

Tom moved next to Tamra, brushing pine needles off her shoulders before placing his arm there. “You’re right. It’s perfect.” Tom squeezed her into his side by the shoulder. “Now let’s go.”

Tom paid for the tree and Tamra helped him hoist the whole thing on top of the car. As they continued on their way. Tamra held her hands in front of the air vent.

“Here.” Tom grabbed her hand and wrapped his fingers around hers. “You are ice cold. Nothing a nice cup of tea can’t help.”

“Sounds nice.” She placed her other hand on top of Tom’s.

They stayed like that the rest of the drive, long after the heat kicked in. The car pulled into the drive as a heavier snow began to fall. As they hustled up the stairs, Tom stopped Tamra.

“You’re not allergic to dogs are you?”

“No. You have a dog?”

“A spaniel named Bobby. I also can not speak as to the condition of the home. I did not expect company.”

Tamra smiled. “You’ve seen me in my bathrobe. I can see past a few dirty dishes and stray clothes.”

Tom smirked as he turned the key in the lock and opened the door. Tamra heard the clicking of nails on the floors. Before she realized, a small ball of brown fur ran right into her legs.

“Bobby! Behave.” Tom scolded.

“It’s fine. No bruises, Bobby.” Tamra knelt down to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “Which I am afraid I can’t say the same for your owner.”

Tom blushed and flicked on the hallway light. He hung the coats and pushed up his sleeves before heading to the kitchen. Tamra followed and Tom gestured to the living room. “Make yourself at home. I’ll make you that cup of tea and then start on dinner.”

Tamra stood in the middle of the living area. Bookshelves covered every available wall space. Every shelf stuffed to the gills with books of all shapes and sizes. Tamra perused the shelves, running her fingers along the spines as she looked. Her hand lighted on a particular volume and she pulled the book out to read the back cover.

“See anything you like?” Tom asked as he entered with the tea. Tamra startled, throwing the book in the air before catching it inches from the floor.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. Tea’s ready. I fixed it the same way as at the National Gallery.”

“You remembered?” she took a tentative sip to check, the tea tasted spot on. “Thank you.”

Tom grinned. “Now that I impressed with tea, the pressure is on for dinner.”

Tamra took another sip. “What are you making?”

“My specialty, Spaghetti Bolognese. Now if you will excuse me, I have a debt to settle.” He tied an apron on to protect his clothes. The whole scene was positively domestic to Tamra.

She settled into a nearby armchair with the book in hand. She read the cover first before cracking it open and began to read. Tom walked by a few times to check on her and smiled at the scene of Tamra curled in the chair with Bobby at her feet, as though this was her place and not Tom’s. He ignored the buzzing in his stomach to return to cooking.

“Dinner’s ready!” Tom announced when he placed the plates onto the table. Tamra looked up from the book. She stretched before standing.

“Already?” She stood to meet him at the table.

“It’s been over an hour.” Tom gestured for her to sit next to him.

“An hour?!”

“One has the tendency to lose oneself when lost in a good book.”

“Who said that? Shakespeare?”

“That’s an original Hiddleston.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Tamra took a large sip on wine to keep herself from inserting her foot even further into her mouth.

“ No apologies necessary. I appreciate the compliment.”

“I wouldn’t want you to get a swell head so I will keep the compliments to a minimum.”

Tom laughed. “I am sure my friends and family would encourage your efforts.”

“Tell me more about your family.”

Tom’s eyes lit up as he talked about his parents and his sisters. She couldn’t imagine what life was like in the Hiddleston family if they all had even half the energy Tom did.

“My…” Tom commented as he looked at his watch while clearing the plates. “look at the time, I need to get you home.”

“Before I turn into a pumpkin?” Tamra giggled, giddy on wine and pasta.

“Something like that.” Tom’s expression went from boisterous to somber as he glanced out the window. “Oh no.”

“What?” Tamra pushed behind him, her chin digging into his shoulder. She saw the roads covered with snow, far more than a dusting. And the snow continued to fall in heavy sheets.

“I’m afraid we’re snowed in. There is no way I can navigate those streets with all the snow.”

“What about public transportation?” Tamra asked, her brows furrowed

“Doubtful. You’re going to have to stay here the night.” Tom noticed Tamra’s face paled, so he placed his hand on top of hers. “In the guest room.” Tamra let out a breath.

Tamra stepped away to finish clearing the dishes. She yawned a few times during the process. “Why don’t I show you to the room?” Tamra nodded and followed Tom down the hallway.

The room contained a bed, dresser, nightstand, and lamp. The bed made with white sheets. Tom opened one of the dresser drawers. “Here are some clothes to sleep in.” He handed her a shirt and pants.

“Why do you have women’s clothes?”

“My sister left them here the last time she stayed over.” Tom explained. “What did you think? I have some sort of secret girlfriend.”

“Something like that. You are a famous actor.”

“Who happens to be as single as they come. Much to the chagrin of my mother.” Blood rushed to Tom’s ears. He shook his head to clear the buzzing. “The bathroom’s down the hall, Bobby usually sleeps in my room, and I am the door at the end if you need anything.”

Tamra nodded. “Thanks Tom. For everything.” They walked to the door together.

“My pleasure. See you in the morning. Hopefully, the roads are clear by then.”

Tamra rose on her toes, kissing Tom’s cheek. “Goodnight Tom.”

He shut the door with a smile and walked down the hall to his room, shutting the door behind once Bobby sauntered in. His fingers traced the place where her lips touched moments before. Once again blood rushed to his head and Tom stumbled to the bed lightheaded.

“Fuck!” he muttered as he stared at the closed door. He cursed Benedict and Luke but mostly himself as he tossed and turned that night.

[theycallmebeccawrites]

Chris & Ellie Series: Episode 11.5

With Tumblr holding my original writing blog @beccaheartschrisevans captive (aka flagged as explicit), I have made a secondary writing blog and may end up closing the other all together. In the meantime, I am reposting all of my stories on my new blog.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Ellie Spencer (OFC)

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: graphic sex, oral sex

Episode Summary: This episode takes place in December 2016. Chris & Ellie spend some time alone with his family in the mountains.

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

The Chris and Ellie series is primarily chronological.  It begins with a flash forward to 2016 and has a few other scenes in the future.  However, the majority of their story is told in chronological order starting in 2013 and going through 2017. Each episode starts with a date to help you place it within the story.

The Chris & Ellie Series Masterlist | Chris & Ellie Masterlist

Episode 11

Episode 11.5: Winter Wonderland

December 23, 2016

Chris stomped the snow off of his boots before he ended the small guest cabin that he was sharing with his fiancée Ellie. They had come with his mom, siblings and their niece and nephews for a snowy Christmas getaway and the rest of the family was staying in the main house.

The entire family had spent the morning playing in the snow, but after lunch, Ellie had retired back to their cabin to warm up while he had stayed outside playing with his nephews and niece. He and Scott had taken them to a tubing park up the mountain from where they were staying and they'd all had a blast. Now, with an hour or so until dinner, Chris was back at the cabin to get warm, change clothes and rouse Ellie for dinner at the main lodge.

Not wanting to track snow into the main part of the cabin, Chris sat down on the bench in the mudroom and pulled off his boots. Then he stood and peeled off his jacket, snow pants and all of his other layers. He hung everything up to dry and then grabbed a hand towel from the stack of extra towels and covered his penis with it before he entered the heart of the cabin.

"Honey, I'm home," he called as he closed the mudroom door behind him. He smiled when he saw Ellie stretched out on their bed with a throw blanket over her and a fire roaring in the fireplace.

"And naked," Ellie smirked, looking up from the Kindle she was reading from.

Chris flashed his penis at her and then smiled as an idea came to him. Instead of going into the bathroom for a hot shower, he dropped the towel then ran over to the bed and jumped onto it. Ellie squealed as he pulled her against his cold body.

"Chris! You're freezing!" she cried, attempting to free herself.

"You should warm me up then," he replied, tucking his cold nose into her neck.

"I hate you," Ellie laughed as his cold hands slipped under her throw blanket and up and under both her 'Love' sweatshirt and the grey t-shirt she wore under it. "Damnit, Chris! I was finally getting warm!"

"So you know how dire it is for you to help warm me up," he replied. "You know you want to." He pressed his cold lips against her neck.

"You sure you can get it up?" she teased.

"Oh, I can always get it up for you," Chris replied. He pulled the throw blanket off of her and then tossed it onto the floor. He slid his cold hands back up under her shirt and growled when he discovered she was wearing a bra. Pulling back, he took in her fleece pajama pants, socks and slipper boots and shook his head. She was even wearing a beanie with a pompom on her head. "Too many clothes."

"It's cold outside," she stated. "I needed warm layers."

"I know it's cold out there," he pouted. "I need you to warm me up." He smirked at her when he saw her waver. "Besides, we both know why you're reading here in our cabin and not with mom at hers." He grabbed the Kindle before she could get it. "Uh huh! I knew it! Dirty books!"

"Give it back!" she exclaimed as he stood up on the bed.

"Let's see what you're reading, fiancée of mine," he said. He cleared his throat and then began to read. "'Well, you’re being punished so no touching,' she said, grinding her ass into his crotch." His eyebrows rose. "Oh we're getting to the good stuff!!!"

"God, he loved this game," Chris read aloud. "He slid his hands up the outside of her thighs and was rewarded with a hard smack to the forearm. 'I will get the handcuffs.'" His held the Kindle out of Ellie's reach as he smiled down at her. "This is some kinky stuff, El."

"It's from a new author I'm working with," Ellie replied as she too stood on the bed, her hands planted on her hips. "Will you please give me back my Kindle?"

"You're really cute when you stand like that," Chris smirked as he plucked the beanie from the top of her head. "You're really cute all the time." He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. He leaned down and captured her lips. She hesitated at first, but eventually gave into his kiss.

"Why are we still standing on the bed?" she asked, breathlessly, a moment later.

"Good question," Chris replied. He let himself fall back onto the bed and reached over to pull her down, but she stepped out of his reach. Eyebrows raised, he set her Kindle onto the bedside table and when he looked back at her, he saw her pulling her sweatshirt and t-shirt over her head, revealing a grey sports bra.

Ellie smirked when he whistled at her and she tossed her shirts over his face. While his face was covered, she quickly pulled her bra over her head and tossed it onto floor. She was untying the strings of her pants by the time he managed to uncover his face. She winked at him and then squealed when he grabbed the material of her pants and yanked them down.

Shaking her head, she lowered her panties and then plopped down onto the bed next to him, quickly chucking her underwear, pants, socks and slippers before she crawled over to him.

"That wasn't my first dirty book of the day," she informed him as she wrapped her hand around his quickly hardening cock. "That author, Alison, has many naughty books. It's kind of her thing." She ran her palm over the tip of his cock, spreading precum down the sides. "I was planning on jumping your bones tonight after dinner, but I suppose now is as good as later."

"I vote for both," he said, cockily. He moaned as she licked his cock from the tip down to the base. He reached for the back of her head as she slid him into her mouth and began to suck. "Fuck, Ellie."

Letting go of his cock with a pop, Ellie smirked as she climbed up his body. She pressed her lips against his and smiled against his lips when he flipped them over so he was on top. He made his way down to her pussy and groaned when he could feel the heat radiating from her core. He breathed in her desire and couldn't deny himself another minute without her taste on his tongue.

She mewed as his tongue lapped at her labia and she grabbed his hair when he teased her clit. Her fingers fisted in his hair as he slipped a finger into her and curled it up to reach her G-spot. Thanks to the build up from her naughty reading and his specialized attention, it wasn't long before her body tightened and then shuddered as she came.

Needing to be in her, Chris moved up her body and slid his aching cock into her cunt. Knowing they didn't have much time left, his movements were fast and furious. As he thrusted, her fingers slipped between their bodies and she began to touch herself, letting her fingers ghost over his body every now and then.

He came first, shooting his seed deep into her. He held himself in her for an exaggerated minute, trying to catch his breath, and then began to move again, trying to help her out. It took another minute or so, but she soon peaked, filling their small cabin with her cries.

Sweating, Chris collapsed onto the bed next to her as his chest rose and fell quickly.

Ellie cuddled against his side and they laid there until her cell phone began to ring. Reaching over, she raised her eyebrow when she saw it was his mom. She cleared her throat and then answered it, "Hi Lisa." She listened as her future mother-in-law talked and gave Chris a raised eyebrow as she learned that dinner was about to start. "We'll be there shortly."

She hung up, a couple seconds later, after saying goodbye to Lisa and then hit Chris with a pillow. "They're all waiting for us to come up for dinner!" she exclaimed. "And we smell like sex!"

"Like really good sex," Chris smirked then laughed when Ellie slapped his arm with her bare hand.

"Get up!" she ordered as she got out of bed. She went to her suitcase to look for clothes and growled when she felt him wrap his arms around her waist.

"I love you, Ellie," he whispered against her neck. "You're just so irresistible that I can't help myself sometimes."

"I love you, too," she replied. "But you still have to get dressed. I'm hungry and we don't have any food in our cabin."

It took them about ten minutes to get dressed and bundled up for the short walk to the main house.

"I don't know about you, but I'm definitely going to need to be warmed up again after dinner," he teased. "Maybe we can read more of that book."

"We'll see how you behave at dinner," she replied, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "If you're a good boy, I might break out the handcuffs."

Chris stopped walking, forcing Ellie to stop too. "Wait, you brought handcuffs?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out," she replied with a wink. "Now let's get out of this cold before any of your important bits freeze and fall off!"

Episode 12

Want to find me off tumblr? I’m @beccatheycallme on twitter. I also post my stories on AO3.

My tag list is always open, just let me know if you’d like to be added!

[waywardnerd67]

Writing Your Story: Chap. 15 - Time Of Our Lives

Summary: Sam, Dean and Castiel gather after Raelyn’s death to remember her as she had wished for them too. Each of them taking turns reading their letters from her. Months later, Dean receives a copy of Raelyn’s last Supernatural book from her agent. Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel and Raelyn Nichols (OFC) Pairing: Dean X Raelyn (OFC) Warnings: Angst Word Count: 2867 A/N: *dodges objects being thrown at her* I know quite a few of your are upset about Chapter 14. It is where the story led me to write. I hated writing it as much as you all hated reading it. We have only ONE CHAPTER left where I am hoping you all will enjoy the ending because I wrote it on a whim after writing this chapter. The song is “Time Of Our Lives” by Tyrone Wells and the lyrics are in bold. I highly suggest you listen to the song because it’s great. This chapter will be equally as hard for you as the last and I am sorry.  As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

Catch Up Here: Writing Your Story Masterlist

Sam and Castiel stood outside Raelyn’s bedroom looking in on Dean sitting on her bed. “What do we do for him?” Castiel asked. Sam shook his head, “The only we can, Cas. Give him time.” Sam pushed Castiel gently towards the library leaving Dean in her room. It had been three days since he held Raelyn for the last time. Three days since she took her last breath. Thinking about her lying in his arms, lifeless, brought fresh tears to his eyes. Dean had hardly left the bunker or her room since she died. He had not said a word to anyone but slept in her bed and looked at the pictures she had taken during their weekend trip. Each picture she had a brilliant smile on her face that made his heart skip a beat. A smile he would only see in pictures now and never in person. Dean wiped his eyes when he heard a knock on the door frame.

Sam walked in, “It’s Eric, he says it’s important.” Dean cleared his throat and took the phone from Sam, “Yeah.” Eric voice was sullen, “Hello Dean. I’m sorry for your loss.” Dean gritted his teeth trying to keep his anger at bay. “Thank you. What can I do for you?” Eric explained that a few days before Raelyn had died she sent her Will and Last Testament to a lawyer in Chicago. Raelyn had named Eric the Executor of it. “Dean, could I meet you in Lebanon tomorrow to give you what Raelyn left you in her Will?” Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. “Sure, Eric there is a diner called Jiffy Burger. Meet there at noon tomorrow.” Eric agreed and their call ended. “Everything okay?” Sam asked. “Apparently, Raelyn sent her Will and Last Testament a few days before she died. Eric is the Executor and has something that Raelyn left me. I’m meeting him tomorrow.” Dean said grabbing the bottle of whiskey off her nightstand. “Do you want me to go with you?” Sam gave Dean a sympathetic look as he hardened his expression, “No.” He went back to looking at the pictures in his lap as Sam silently walked out.

As soon as Dean walked into the diner memories of Raelyn flooded his mind. He saw Eric sitting at a table with a laptop bag. “Eric.” Dean said shaking his hand. Their waiter took their order both only ordering a drink and Eric pulled out a stack of papers. “Raelyn requested that you make all decisions concerning her burial. She left you specific instructions in this envelope.” Dean took the envelope seeing his name in her handwriting. “Next, she is transferring all her royalty deposits in this account for you. I have a copy of her death certificate so you can take over ownership of it. Since Wayward Sisters just came out and with Raelyn’s death we’re imagining that book sales will be higher than ever before. You should expect around $6000 for royalties.” Dean’s eyed slightly bugged out, “I don’t even care about the money. You know that, right?” Dean said as Eric nodded. “Yes, we would all rather have her than not, especially me.” Dean knew Eric and Raelyn were close friends and the fact that no one knew the truth of what happened to her was killing Dean.

“There are a few papers I need you to sign concerning the royalties before I leave today. Finally,” Eric pulled out three hardcover books, “these are for you, Sam and Cas. I’m hoping you know who those guys are.” Dean nodded taking the books in his hands. “This was her last manuscript submitted right after her trip to Santa Cruz. She wanted you three to have the first three copies off the printer. There are three extra pages at the end of the book that she requested for your copies only.” Dean ran his hand over the cover as tears came to his eyes. The title of her book was, ‘Time of Our Lives’ the same title of their song. “It’s a beautiful book and is going to be release on Raelyn’s birthday this upcoming December. We are also releasing a press statement concerning her death at the end of this week. Morgan is holding a memorial service as well in Chicago.” Dean nodded looking up. “I know she called me about it. I don’t know…” Eric nodded as he knew how Dean felt. “Once you sign these papers then we are all finished.” Dean signed what Eric needed and they walked out together.

Sam and Castiel were waiting for Dean when he came back to the bunker. “How did it go?” Sam asked as Dean set everything Eric gave him down on the table. “Fine. I have to go to a bank next week to transfer ownership of an account Raelyn set up for us. She transferred all the Supernatural royalties over to us.” Sam sat there in shock and then chuckled. Dean looked at him perplexed, “Why are you laughing?” Sam stopped seeing the pain on Dean’s face. “Even though she’s gone she is still trying to take care of us by giving us honest money.” Dean thought about it and he started to laugh softly along with Sam and Castiel. “Dean, what are the books?” Castiel asked as Dean handed one to each of them. Sam smiled looking down at the book, “Her last manuscript.” Dean nodded and whispered, “The title is the name of our song.” Sam placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Finally, Dean opened the enveloped for him. He asked for Sam and Castiel to stay as he read it.

“Dear Dean, If you are reading this then my plan was successful and I’m so sorry. During our last night in Santa Cruz, Chuck visited me in my dream. He told me the only way for Raymond to be killed is if I died as well. I guess because of our Supernatural blood the whole twin connection was amplified. One could not live without the other. I knew you, Sam and Cas would not let me go through with it so I had to leave you all with no goodbyes. I never wanted to hurt any of you and I’m so sorry I did. 

You should have received a copy of my book. Please read the dedication and letters in the book during my funeral. I would also like you to play our song in the background. I want you to give me a hunter’s funeral. When you burn my body also burn my laptop because if I was going to be attached to any item it would be that. I backed up everything to my external hard drive in my room. I know I wasn’t a hunter but I don’t want to take any chances of being stuck as a ghost. My body should still be at the morgue and I want you to make the arrangements for it. I want you to burn my body in my favorite field where we looked up at the stars. For the love of Chuck do not burn the whole field down. 

I know this will be hard on you. You have never dealt with loss well. Promise me, you won’t drink yourself into a pit or make any rash decisions. I did this so the people I loved the most were going to be safe. No matter what, this was how it had to end. Dean, the months we spent together have been the best of my life. Our weekend together in Santa Cruz is my heaven and I’ll be waiting for you in our hotel room. Just don’t come too soon because you still have work to do. I love you, Dean Winchester. Love, Raelyn PS: Tell Sam and Cas that I love them too.”

Dean looked up at Sam and Castiel who both had tears in their eyes. That is when Dean’s dam burst opened. He held onto the letter weeping openly in front of his little brother and best friend. He had lost a lot of people in his life and the pain he would feel he was always able to deal with. Losing Raelyn, his soulmate, was like losing part of his heart or air to breath. Now he knew what his father had felt when their mom had died. The anguish he felt and having no support to lean on but his bitterness for revenge. He felt Sam’s long arm around his shoulder and Castiel was standing behind him with his hand gripping his arm. In that moment, he was thankful for having people around him who he could rely on to help him through this. Dean composed himself and looked up at Sam and Castiel, “I don’t think I can go to the morgue and…” Dean could not finish the sentence. “Do not worry. I will go and take care of everything.” Castiel said as Dean nodded his thanks.

Two days later, Dean, Sam and Castiel traveled to Raelyn’s favorite field just as the sun was setting. Dean and Sam gathered wood piling all along a platform they had constructed. Castiel was given the task to make sure the fire would not spread any further than the pit they were creating. As they placed the last few pieces of wood in place Dean’s stomach started to churn. He took a moment, standing by the Impala, to collect himself.

A warm breeze whipped around him and suddenly he felt a wave of calm flow over him. He looked up at the sky the first few stars starting to shine bright and he could not help but think of Raelyn. “Dean, we’re ready.” Sam said as he nodded. Dean opened the back door of the Impala where Raelyn’s body was wrapped in a white sheet. Sam helped him getting her out of the back seat and then Dean carried her to the pit platform. Tears slipped down his face as he laid her down. The three of them stood together each throwing a burning branch onto the pit watching the fire spread quickly all the way around. Dean pulled out her book as Sam started playing their song through her Bluetooth speaker.

This is where the chapter ends A new one now begins Time has come for letting go The hardest part is when you know All of these years, when we were here Are ending, but I'll always remember We have had the time of our lives Now the page is turned The stories we will write We have had the time of our lives

“This book is dedicated to three special men in my life. To show them that they can have their pie and eat it too. To my angel friend who guarded me from harm. My unofficial big brother, who was always my sounding board. Always there with advice and support. Finally, to my pretty boy, you are my everything and I love you.” Dean read out loud and then passed the book over to Castiel. He flipped to the back of the book where his letter and a picture of the two of them was.

And I will not forget The faces left behind It's hard to walk away From the best of days But if it has to end I'm glad you have been my friend In the time of our lives

“Cas, what can I say dear friend. Our friendship started off rocky, but in the end, you became one of my best friends. My favorite memory is when we met at our favorite diner in Chicago. You had just come back from the Big Empty and I couldn’t believe it was you. You told me that you annoyed a Cosmic Entity to come back to Earth. I remember thinking in that moment that not only were we the perfect friends but how much I took you for granted. From that point forward, I made more of an effort to be a better friend to you. I’m sorry I took you for granted and don’t let them do what I did. Be your quirky, lovable self and please for the love of Chuck, watch some movie with Dean and read a book Sam recommends to you. You have to keep up with your pop culture references. Stop by and see me some time. I will have a beach chair there for you. Oh and Cas, keep your eye on Dean. Keep him safe from others and especially himself.” Castiel passed the book to Sam who flipped the page to his letter and a picture of him and Raelyn in the library.

I'm glad you have been my friend In the time of our lives We say goodbye We hold on tight To these memories That never die

“Sammy, you finally got to be a big brother to someone even if you didn’t realize it. You are an amazing big brother. You are extremely protective, loving and supportive to those around you. Sure, you can be stubborn at times but I think that’s just comes with the last name. Sam, don’t think that you can’t have a life and hunt as well. There is no either or for you or your brother. Saving people, hunting things, the family business also includes your life. Don’t be afraid to fall in love. Don’t be afraid to live your life. You are going to lose people close to you, but let those losses give you strength to love others just as those who are gone loved you. Sam, stay close to Dean. Don’t allow him to push you away. Rely on each other in this hard time. You are the glue that will keep the three of you together. I love you, big brother.” Sam wiped away the tears coming down his cheeks with the back of his sleeve. He handed the book to Dean. He gazed at the fire for a few moments before flipping the page to his letter. He saw a few pictures of him and Raelyn together from Santa Cruz. Taking a deep breath he read his letter.

Where the water meets the land There is shifting in the sand Like the tide that ebbs and flows Memories will come and go All of these years When we were here Are ending But I'll always remember We have had the time of our lives

“Hi pretty boy. From the moment I began writing the Supernatural books I knew you would impact my life the most. I felt connected to you even when you were just a character in my favorite book series. I would have never believed that I was meant to be with a man who is as strong, brave and hot as you are. I always felt I was never going to be good enough for you. You deserved a woman who was fearless, who was strong, who could turn heads when she walked into a room. I never believed I was that woman until you. You showed me how strong I am. You showed me how fearless I am. You showed me how the only head that matter to turn and look at me was yours. You took every insecurity, every insult, every bad moment from my past and washed them away with your love for me. 

Dean, I know you blame yourself. It is because of you I had the strength to save all my loved ones and there are not enough ways to say thank you for that. You protected me, taught me, loved me until the very end. Now, for the hard part. You and I are soulmates. We were meant to be with each other, but there was never a certain length of time set for it. Don’t wallow in your grief. Lean on Sam and Cas. Allow yourself to cry, but also allow yourself to laugh. Most of all, allow yourself to love again. You have so much love pent up inside of you that you have to let it out on someone. 

I will always love you and I know you will always love me, but don’t let the memory of me hold you back. Just like I told Sam, you can have a life and hunt. You would be doing the world a disservice with the Winchester name did not get passed on to the next generation of hunters. Remember, I’ll be waiting for you in Santa Cruz. I love you so much, Dean Winchester.” Dean closed the book holding it to his chest. He wept quietly as Sam pulled him and Cas together under his arms. The three of them stood there listening to Raelyn’s song until the fire started to die out and the stars were shining bright.

We have had the time of our lives Now the page is turned The stories we will write We have had the time of our lives And I will not forget The faces left behind It's hard to walk away From the best of days But if it has to end I'm glad you have been my friend In the time of our lives

My Nerd Herd: @waywardbaby @waywardrose13 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @anotherwaywardsister @ladywinchester1967 @dwgrl1903 @akshi8278 @ericaprice2008 @mirandaaustin93 @spnbaby-67 @time-travel-bouqet @1967-essentialghoul @weirdoblogger69

[ad360com]

Wyatt answers a question (Part1)

Telling me not to so something makes me want to do it even more, DJ. Why Israel? Because when I joined this movement, I notice everyone talks about every other country but no serious discussion on Israel. No one is safe from criticism imo. So how about we do that, DJ? Shall we? Let's have honest discussion, DJ. Because truth is coming. It is obvious that elite 1% hide behind good jewish people to commit atrocities and profit on top of them. Much like America. I have no problem admitting that. We are great, but we are also monsters to much of the world. The elite 1% have created the jewish vehicle and manipulate good Americans and good Israelis, they do not care about the Jews. At. All. They hide behind them. In fact, Honest Jews should be most vocal. This common knowledge outside the schizophrenic propaganda bubble in America. Oh trust me, DJ, they don't care if you Jewish or Moslem or Christian. They have plans for each of you. They will use you. Tarnish your name. They will ride you like vehicle, & when you crash, they will use other vehicle. HRC=vehicle. Jews=vehicle. Christian's are vehicles. It's all pretty simple if you put emotions aside and think from perspective of psychotic king. Tbh, all of this new to me, I've only started looking into this topic since 2018. How the good jewish people aren't outraged is beyond me. I really don't get it. It'll be hard, ofc. It's funny. Some Q people follow like no one's biz and have malfunction when Israel brought up even tho Q says "saving Israel last." People afraid to RT etc but my views way up, so obv ppl curious & reading. Massive redpills incoming. Bend over and say ah. One side note. I like Gorka, but he gets foolish and smeared low follower acct I follow not long ago because he asked legitimate Q about Holocaust. Q everything? Gorka called him "denier." That is what I mean. No hate ever, we want honest discussion & curious why the deflections Also I dont always have opinion on the stuff I write about, just sayin. So if you say anything to me like dumb cuck, I'll laugh. I'm just typing what I see. Even from multiple perspectives sometimes But the Q was about the Holocaust numbers. Fair question. So I looked into it. The outright denial is chidish imo and not serious person. People definitely died, and there were labor camps, but numbers get questionable. Yes, yes they do. You can find examples everywhere. There was a single witness who supposedly was in two concentration camps and is the primary source for about 1/3 of Holocaust deaths. It's a nasty rabbit hole, but you figure out that a lot is stack of exaggerations. One of the most obvious is the fact that the Nazi's crematoriums would have had to burn a body about 10x faster than a modern one and be running 24/7 for years with literal zero downtime. There's a reason why they specifically say "Historians agree that 6 million died" because it's just an agreement, not an actual number based on facts. Have you ever seen the Treblinka Holocaust Memorial? It looks pretty strange for a "memorial". Looks like they just     Holocaust historians claim that during WW2 almost 900,000 people were killed and buried at Treblinka. And they claim that later the Germans dug up and burned the bodies in order to destroy the evidence. In 1999 a team of experts used an $80,000 Ground Penetration Radar (GPR) device to check for evidence that the soil had ever been disturbed as . They found no evidence of any soil disturbance. They covered the field with 17,000 boulders/stones and called it a memorial.Now you can't run any more Ground Penetration Radar tests - not without moving 17,000 boulders (which are set into concrete).  Of course, doing this would be disturbing a sacred Holocaust "memorial" - which would land you in jail.  Mission Accomplished. The whole Holocaust thing and the way the elite 1% use as a vehicle is very strange and fascinating at same time. Are you not at all curious as to why this is the only genocide event that needs legal protection by throwing "deniers" into jail? Or do you just happily overdose on the forced narratives? Surely the elite would never lie to you. They aren't psychopaths or anything. Trust us. Genuine Question. Why do we hear about the Holocaust over and over in movies, TV shows, documentaries, newspapers, books, etc. but almost never hear about the HUNDREDS of other historical genocides? It seems very weird until you figure out the real purpose of all this. Ask yourself one simple question, How in the world does Israel get away with their mass murder, ethnic cleansing and brutal oppression - if we're going to be honest. I have criticism for both sides of that conflict, don't get me wrong. I'm staying on outside looking in though. Why are we very allowed to discuss the idea of white privilege, but forbidden from discussion of the hypothesis of Jewish privilege? Foolish if you don't think it applies the other way too. In three words... Guilt/elites/vehicles. Guilt over Holocaust. Sick, but brilliant, no? The ultimate Guilt trip enables the ultimate in psychological manipulation. You see, Holocaust means that they entitled to special rights - the right to forbid people from discussing their disproportionate wealth & political influence. THE PERFECT VEHICLE. How do you not see? A found that the number one reason Jewish Americans give as the source of their identity as Jews is not race or religion.  Instead when asked "What does it mean to be Jewish?", the number one reason given (73%) was "Remembering the Holocaust". Hm. Some people think of it as a secular pseudo-religion called Holocaust-ianity or some shit (combining the words "holocaust" and "Christianity").  Laws in many U.S. states, known as , mandate teaching to all school children. Vedddy weird folks, no? This indoctrinates kids with the belief that the Jewish people are "unique" in their historical victim-hood.  This puts Jews at the very top of the victim hierarchy. This was the goal from beginning, since widely believed victim narrative gives you political power, being top of victim hierarchy give you the most political power.  That's why holocaust-ianity causes people to believe that Jews deserve special rights that no one else has. They mean well, but man are they slow. For example, holocaust-ianity means wealthy inbred morons can manipulate Israel and somehow hold ethical exemption to create type of racist country, whether citizens realize or not. Laughable. Israel is diverse. I know 4 that live in Haifa and they travel all over. Lefties, righties, buncha groups. If Mr.Trump just stomped out the major criminal networks we wouldn't even be dealing with any of this bullschiff. Regular citizens always the ones who suffer. It's pathetic. Normal chill citizens there can easily do what we are doing. What I'm saying is I condemn both sides of region but also support both sides for defending themselves. Innocent people always caught up in the middle. What I'm really saying is that Israel needs to flush their toilet. Not hard to separate elite agenda from normal people on planet. Some idiots will follow like lefties here. Man made systems. Can be infiltrated and can be used as vehicles to manipulate the masses of genuine good people out there. Also dont forget the horrific stuff Japanese did. And then you have them working with China and selling sensitive information and testing out traitorous surveillance tech. Like Hillary. Who is Rothschild pet. God forbid we should ever cut off their billions and cut aid entirely for now - they might really stab us in the back. Holocaust-ianity gives right to violate principle free speech, so people can be censored etc. Use Dan Cringeshaw, but never trust Dan Cringeshaw. He said it best. Said you're allowed to question everything and criticize every govt except for one lucky winner.  Hint: not USA Currently no other vehicle at time has this special political right to protect the victim-hood narrative against people who might use their free speech rights to question the narrative. Also why Obama talked schmack but still agreed to send billions. Elites are manipulating you. The political power engendered by Holocaust-ianity is so powerful that it must be protected at all costs from the blasphemers, otherwise known as holocaust "deniers." Pathetic boring game by 1%. Make no mistake. Creating J victimhood and using as vehicle is nothing new at all. If you start seriously questioning the narratives, some will malfunction and start melting and end up blocking you or telling me "why they are going to block me now" lolol. It's so childish and weird. All we're doing is talking, asking questions, normal stuff. So scary ... ffs.  Literally only thing I remember learning in Highschool was Holocaust and Rwandan genocide only because chill mf teacher put on movie Hotel Rwanda (really really good btw) about Rwandan genocide. We were taught as if Holocaust was the only genocide. Others not brought up. Why? I got indoctrinated by bs and became bored and 100% distanced from all this. When I saw a lot of the truth and became fascinated and interested in our history and cemented love of country and realized there are shit load of atrocities - feels clown like to treat anyone special. I wish more would sit down and look at things more honestly. Even if you dont know answer. I openly talk about all these topics with whites, blacks, hispanics, asians, my best friend Filipino (Dodi), or other best friend Sikh (Deepak), 99% understand none of this is our fault. That's why the state of Israel denies the Armenian Holocaust.  That's also why the state of Israel denies the Polish Holocaust.  And that's why the state of Israel agrees Ukrainian Holocaust must be downplayed.  Even ADL on video bullied Ukraine into There can be only one **top** victim narrative. We can't even trade positions for like a day. Boring!  And that position must belong to the "most oppressed people in history" - the "chosen people". *barf* The clip showing ADL's triggered bullying is from a documentary called "Defamation". Created by an Israeli Jew. Jews aren't a race, they are a religion Jewish supremacists in some top universities teach that Judaism is only a religion and that Jews are really just white people.  Of course, it's not true and they know it. America's Most Famous Rabbi (as well as Israeli scientists) admitted that Jews are a Race, not a Religion. So why do they teach the "Judaism is only a religion" fallacy? They do this so that they can promote the idea of "White Supremacy" imo. If Judaism is nothing but a religion, that means the concept of ["White Supremacy" can be used as camouflage to cover up the fact that we actually live in a System of Jewish Supremacy. Also you do NOT have to be "Jewish." It's a game. Many people like myself are very new to breaking out of the mind control propaganda.  They've had an almost total lock on the information for many decades.  The internet is allowing a break out of the 'forbidden' information. The Jewish Supremacists are clearly freaking out and trying their best to bring censorship to the internet under the cover of "hate speech" laws. Hopefully enough people can be de-programmed in time to prevent the censoring of more internet. The axis of power in the world is doing tilts and Israel has to start wiggling itself into good position with China. As for the US, state of Israel doesn't give two schiffs about US or its people, you are tax farm and buncha fools who will jump to defense when they tell you to. It's going to be interesting to see how they will attempt to wiggle w Chinese, they are less easily manipulated than the Americans. If you step on toes once they will not forget. Not like US which has gaping whole for ass of the huge arse f'ng it has been getting for years now. You should really talk to some Israelis or read what they write online. A few good websites out there. Israel is more critical of Israel than the US is of Israel. It is hysterical to me. Some Americans think Israel is some hivemind and each person is connected with a string. US "ally" Israel routinely caught sending American troops in to do the fighting they should be doing themselves. Israel is not the home of the chosen people. There are no chosen people. What a strange ridiculous idea. Some conservatives get creepy about it. I see in my replies.  Israelis have own interest in mind, always have. We may think they are our allies, but if somebody else gives them a better deal, they will sell us. That's just a fact. We have no real allies. Doesn't mean we end trade or anything. But we should know where everyone's coming from. It's just weird how the influence is all up in media. Hollywood. Basically 40% of all billionaires. Supreme court. Hell, 2% of population, but 80% of peach mints. Those witnesses were.... you'll never guess. Why would people not question this or at least have honest discussion. This was a brief duckduckgo search that took no more than 7 mins. I was reading article on how Tyler perry owns the movie studio in Atlanta, and how it’s bigger than paramount and dream works and other studios combined. So I started thinking about other influences in Hollyweird. Hollywood, I didn’t know this, made up of more than one movie studio. I’m ignoramus to this stuff. So I duckduck the owners of all the major studios in Hollywood. Boy oh boy, they’re all yeah you guessed it. To me, it's more interesting than anything. I'm just naturally curious. And it wasn’t till 2018 that I was exposed to this how Jewish Supremacists manipulate normal Israelis and normal Americans, and that would explain why America is Israel’s ho. Even that tho, the America is Israel’s biatch thing, I still don’t fully understand the foreign policy we have with them but I hear that phrase thrown out a lot by people who are known as "no bs" people. The inconsistency in the Jewish proportion of heavy hitter business people is fascinating. It really is. I’m still a shit and still learning when it comes to this and our ties with Israel. Over last few weeks I’ve been thinking about religions and how there’s really only three major ones, all with some things in common in their stories but with one major commonality, the holy land: I don’t think any of the religions got it right, something could have happened x amount of years ago in my opinion and the religions are essentially people’s versions of the story, most inconsistencies with a few similarities. How would we know. We wouldn't. Could very well be like a game of telephone. I could be wrong though, it could be something else but as I get older my belief in God grows, and idek how to pray to it or what to read about because I don’t think anyone’s got it right. And I'm a Catholic and believe in God. When your team runs the award-giving committee, you tend to win a lot of awards. That said, I have a lot of respect and admiration for the Jewish team. They've got an 'us-against'-the-world' thing going that encourages them work together and achieve some pretty cool things. Unfortunately, 'Us-against-the-world' also implies you can treat everyone who isn't on your team as an enemy combatant. It's this embattled attitude that generates a kind of ruthless, unsympathetic attitude toward players on the other team. And they are FIRST to call out any other group that adopts same strategy. It blows my mind how many people fail to understand this is a MACRO evolutionary strategy for them and they wish to slowly breed out and exile out races they don't like etc. Using Jewish label as a front. Yep, they even gave the White Helmets a Nobel Peace Prize. That shows the level of propaganda they are able to perpetuate against the American people through their mass media apparatus. Tons of Overwhelming Evidence That Israel Supports !slamic Terrorist Groups in Syria. You never hear about the regular, everyday Jews and it's shameful. I obviously know and talk to poor Jewish peeps, but it’s a thing, it’s such a thing to the point that it’s a stereotype. While stereotypes can be offensive or seem irrational because they cast a wide generalization on a large group of people, they exist for a reason and stick around for the same, so they must be true on some level. Not all catholic priests diddle. I went to 2 years of communion classes as boy at a catholic church with other kids and the priests were awesome. That doesn’t take away from the fact that a shitload of kids did get touched and molested by priests on such a large scale that the Vatican was aware. And I have no problem admitting Catholic Church one of most corrupt organizations in world and is used to manipulate masses. Not all Jews are bad or are out to take out America or care to gain influence through high ranking positions. It's all just a game. But we're the ones that suffer and get manipulated. Literally every Jewish person I've befriended, are normal, ethical people who care about living life through what their religion seems just. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that Jewish people, both male and female hold lots of highly influential and esteem positions in America, a country mostly made up of Christians when it comes to religious demographic, and these positions are dominated by Jewish people at an alarming inconsistent rate. Try reversing role and doing that shite in Israel. They'll kick you out so fast your head will be spinning. I watched interview one time with David Ben Gurion and the interviewer asked the former prime minister about Israel's nuclear program. (Israel has never admitted to having nukes, though there's lot of anecdotal evidence saying they do have nukes...but no country has inspected Israel's program since JFK. JFK was very suspect of state of Israel. So interviewer asks DBG if Israel has nukes and he replies, "We have enemies". So that's the situation. If you see the rest of the world as an enemy, you can do anything, because, it's for your survival. The truth is simply pointing out facts made from observations in data causes lots of childish triggering and weird deflection on this subject because of the deep history. Pointing out the inconsistency in that blacks make up 13-15% of the US population but over 70% of the prison population shouldn’t cause uproar or anger but rather curiosity and request of answers. Most videos of police officers will have you believe most cops use excessive force and that there is war going on between inner city black people and white pool ice officers. Total nonsense. Obviously not all blacks are criminals, but something’s fishy there. For a fact a lot of black people in prison did something wrong that led directly to their incarceration but the numbers simply hint at some sort of fuckery afoot, that leads to people asking questions. Doesn’t take a five minute duckduckgo search to realize how many blacks are doing hard time for ridiculous non violent drug offenses. Same thing goes for the cops. One of most stressful jobs ever, all day people are lying to you, when you show up to a situation it typically doesn’t mean something great is happening, pulling people over to give them tickets must feel like a shitty thing to do when a quota is set by dept. most are good at their job. It’s the few who we see in videos that show a lack of training and or skill under stressful situations. And same goes for this except when these observations are made immediate malfunction cognitive dissonance ensues. The difference with the outrage is they have a decent influence on so many sectors of this country, you can literally be black balled for life from anything. The collective identity makes sure that you think in terms of Group first and prior to anything else. On top of this, Judaism actively teaches infiltration of positions of power, politics, msm, and so on simply in order to better their chances at survival by group based nepotism. Imo the narratives have been twisted by the winners. This where the whole “history is written by the winners” phrase comes in. You have a full understanding of just how powerful the influence is when it comes to people just simply speaking about, or asking genuine questions etc.  

Wyatt @SayWhenLA    

a day ago  BOOKMARK    SAVE AS PDF    MY AUTHORS     Read the full article