#((some late night writings as I attempt to bring this blog back from the Dead)

[xjinkiesx]

        It was an exercise she had been thinking about for some time. Ever since Harlan Ellison stated there were multiple versions of themselves, Velma had wondered: what had they done? What had they undergone?

        And as she sat awake in the New England night, curtains drawn because you do not look out into the Mist, she put pen to paper.

        Dear-

        Dear who? Not herself. Absolutely not! She had stopped addressing letters like that in Middle School. The act was pedantic at best and embarrassing at worst.

        Tapping the butt of her pen to her lip, her mind wandered. Who from any timeline would she want to write to? Someone smart. Someone... different. Complex. Someone she could really dig into with the questions. Someone who might offer a different point of view.

        She thought of a megalomaniac African Gray parrot. No... he was gone. Dead. Or, at least, destroyed. If he had not been utterly insane, she would have liked to pick his walnut-sized brain.

        If not him, then perhaps someone who might follow in those footsteps? Someone... devoted to an idea. A fantastical idea. Willing to sacrifice. Willing to barter. Someone like Brad Masters... Mayor Jones...

        Before she realized it, a name had appeared on the page, absently written by her own hand:

        Ben Ravencroft.

        “Huh...” She frowned. This was a new name. Sounded fake, too. But maybe that was the point?

        Dear Ben Ravencroft,

        You don’t know me. Or, at least, you don’t know the me that is writing to you. Maybe you know someone else like me. And that, ultimately, is the point.

        My name is Velma Dinkley, and I have it on good authority that you met me at one point. We probably didn’t get along. Or maybe we did for a little. But that doesn’t matter anymore, because that me and this me are different.

        “Yeah, Velm, you don’t sound nuts at all.”

        I’m writing you because of this difference. You see, I’m… interested in the length some people will go to obtain their wants. I have met men who fabricated curses, who sold their souls to Gods. And I want to know… what pushed you to your choice? Whatever choice it was. What made you think it would work? Why this course of action?

        What did you know that the rest of us did not?

                                                                     Kind Regards,

                                                                     Velma Dinkley

                                                                     Miskatonic University

        Velma took a deep breath and sat back in her creaky wooden chair. That felt so weird, and yet it felt very right. This Ben Ravencroft guy was either real in some place, in some time, or at least a very good figment of her imagination. She shook her head and folded the letter before slipping it into a blank envelope. On the front, she jotted the man’s name down before sealing the letter inside with a lick of the adhesive.

        “Now… how does one deliver a letter to someone from a different dimension?” The postal service certainly didn’t take it that far. Looking around her dormitory room, her gaze settled on the box her mom had sent. Inside was a bunch of weird New Age stuff from the store back in Crystal Cove. But it triggered a memory: when she was little, and writing to her imaginary friend. Her mother had lit a candle and helped her set the letter on fire. They put it in a small iron cauldron, and she was told to imagine who she was sending the letter to.

        In hindsight, the letters had been for Marcy. But if Marcy had been real, then maybe this Ben Ravencroft was… and maybe burning her letter would work.

        Tired hands dug through the box. Sure enough, there were candles, a box of matches, and a miniature cauldron. It would have to work.

        She took the good back to her desk and struck a match. It caught easily with the smell of sulfur, and when the flame met the candle, the wick burned tall. In Velma’s other hand, she gripped the letter.

        Now came the hard part: what did this mystery man look like? Anything, probably. But what did someone with a name like that look like? Esoteric. Dark. Probably a bit nerdy if he went by “Ben”. Her cicada-obsessed High School biology teacher came to mind. Whatever his name was. But he seemed enough like a Ben Ravencroft. Certainly, it did not have to be perfect to work.

        Picturing the man, she touched the edge of her envelope to the candle. The flame sputtered, moving about as if to dodge the paper. Her mother might have said this was a sign. But Velma was not going to give up. She did not write this for nothing.

        She shoved the letter in further, forcing the flame to accept. Slowly, the envelope caught, and the flame grew and grew. Before the burning letter could reach her fingers, she set it into the cauldron.

        A cold chill ran up her spine as she watched her letter turn to ash, the name on the front of the envelope burning last. Dread pooled in her stomach. Had she done the right thing? 

        “Too late now,” she muttered, placing the lid atop her cauldron to contain the ashes. When morning came, she would toss them into the garden. Bur, for now, she needed sleep.

[waitimcomingtoo]

heeeey, in love with you, your writing and your blog 💖 Tbh I have read everything you have and I really in love with your writing. And I know that your request are close, but if you want could you write a Tom x reader where they have a fight and Tom has to leave a few days to promote his new movie and when he's back he sees like some of the reader's stuff are missing and thinks she left but in reality she's in another room couse she's awfully sick and doesn't want to get Tom sick too

Thank you so much anon!

Give Me a Minute to Hold My Girl

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: Tom can’t find you after a bad fight

Masterlist

Tom was away a lot.

You knew traveling was a big part of his job, so you never did complain. That being said, it wasn’t easy having a boyfriend who was never around. All the missed birthdays, events, and art shows weighed on you after a while. You were more than proud of him, but you were growing lonely. He had a saying, something he said every time before he left you:

“Wherever I am, and wherever you are, we’re always looking at the same moon.”

And it used to assuage you. You’d go outside on nights he was away and stare at the moon, wishing he was looking at it where’ve he was. You knew it was never true though. He was rarely in the same time zone as you and was definitely not spending his precious time staring at the moon.

You couldn’t help it. You were miserable. 

On a night where Tom came home three hours later than he said he would after being away for a week. He sent a short text alerting you that he’d be home late, therefore missing the art show he promised he’d be at after missing the last three. Upon reading the text just mere moments before your show, you decided your quota was filled. You couldn’t handle the lonely nights anymore. If he didn’t start shaping up, you were gonna have to start considering looking elsewhere for love. You loved Tom, but you had to love yourself more.

“Hi, babygirl.” Tom came behind you that night and wrapped his arms around your waist as you rinsed your brushes. He smelled like he had been using a new cologne, one you didn’t recognize. You stiffened a little in his embrace as you wiped off a brush.

“I thought you were gonna be home at 2.” You said quietly.

“Plans changed. Sorry I didn’t call.” He kissed the back of your neck with strangers lips.

“Do you remember what today was?” You asked for your own amusement.

“Oh uh…” Tom scratched the back of his head as he raked his brain. “Not your birthday.”

“No.” You confirmed with half hearted humor.

“Not our anniversary.” He continued.

“No.” You shook your head.

“Um…” he trailed off until his eyes landing on your paint brushes next to you. “Your art show. I totally forgot.” He rubbed his eyes. “It was today?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, never meeting his eyes.

“I knew it. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” Tom took your hands and looked at you apologetically. “I got pulled into a meeting about Spider-Man 3 and it just slipped my mind.”

“It’s all right. I didn’t place or anything.” You shrugged, not wanting a fight. “You can come to the next one.”

“This was the one where you paint on the spot right? Can you paint me a new one while I get changed?” Tom suggested as he brushed some hair out of your face.

“Sure. Anything specific?” You asked, warming up to him now that he was showing an interest in you again. The fire you felt for him was burning once again.

“Paint how you feel. I’ll be back soon.” Tom kissed your forehead before leaving the room.

You put a blank canvas on your easel and squirt some dark paint on your palette. As you painted, you heard Tom shouting and cheering from the other room. You decided it wasn’t worth it to get angry at him for playing a video game, after all he did have a long day. You kept the painting simple and void of color so you could get back to spending time with your boyfriend. When you finished and felt happy with your work, you called him back.

“I’m done, Tom.” You called out to him.

“Just a second. I’m in the middle of a game.” He called back. After ten minutes had gone by and he still hadn’t come into the room, you decided to add another small detail to the background of the painting. Tom walked in shortly after with a different outfit and freshly showered. You gave him a small smile.

“I can clean up and we can grab some dinner.” You said as you collected the used brushes.

“I actually gotta go soon, honey. I have meeting in Manchester tonight.” Tom told you timidly. You stopped collecting your brushes and looked at him.

“But you just got home.” You said, not bothering to hide your disappointment.

“I thought I’d come back for an hour to see you.” He said as if was no big deal.

“And then you spent that hour playing video games with Tuwaine.” You pointed out in anger. You felt the fire fizzle out.

“He’s never on, I didn’t want to miss him.” Tom said light heartedly in an attempt to cheer you up. “He’s the best at 2K.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t really he was the best at 2k.” You said sarcastically. “How stupid of me to try to pull my boyfriend away from making virtual half court shots after I haven’t seen him in a week.”

“I haven’t seen him either.” Tom reminded you, only fueling your anger.

“But you gave your only free hour to him. When am I gonna get to see you, Tom? When you’re dead?” You questioned.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” He held out his arms.

“Until your car pulls up.” You shot a look at his phone which you knew would be buzzing any minute.

“What do you want me to say?” Tom asked. “I work. I’m a working actor. People need me.”

“I need you.” You threw a sheet over your canvas and finished collecting your brushes, not wanting to look at him.

“I don’t know what to tell you, darling. I’m sorry. I can’t be everywhere at once.” He apologized. You shook your head before turning to face him.

“You spent last week in Mexico, Berlin, and Scotland. You’ve been to LA, Germany, and Vancouver this week. And now you’re off to Manchester? Do you mean you can’t be everywhere at once, or do you mean you can’t be anywhere I am?” You accused.

“I don’t pick where I go. If I have a meeting, I go. If I have a premier, I go. If I have to film, I go. It’s part of the job.” Tom defended himself.

“Chris wasn’t at the London premier.” You said quietly. You weren’t going to bring it up, but it felt warranted.

“What?” Tom asked at the random claim.

“Chris Pratt. He wasn’t at the London premier for Onward.” You told him.

“Okay?” Tom said in confusion.

“Do you know why?” You tested him.

“No.” Tom said after a minute of thinking.

“He was home with his family. He said his son started crying as he was leaving for his flight so he stayed. It was all over the news.” You told him. “Traveling is part of his job too, and yet he knows how to be there for his family. Why can’t you do the same?”

“Harry and Sam were there.” Tom pointed out.

“I don’t care about Harry and Sam!” You raised your voice. “I care about how the only time I get to see my boyfriend is when I’m scrolling through Instagram. Girls all over the world get to see you but the girl you swore you loved is lying at home in an empty bed. You can make time for millions of strangers but you can’t make time for me? Do you know how it feels every time you don’t answer my FaceTime calls but then you go on Instagram live? Do you have any idea how unhappy I’ve been?” You asked desperately.

“I have to tend to my fans, it’s a part-“ Tom began.

“Of the job, I know.” You cut him off as you stormed out of the room.

“What do you want me to do? Quit?” He laughed bitterly as he followed you into the living room.

“Would you?” You spun around.

“What?” Tom faltered.

“Would you give it all up for me?” You repeated lowly. “If I asked, and I wouldn’t, but it I did? Would you give up the money and stardom and power for me?”

“Why are you asking me this?” Tom sighed.

“Because I think I know the answer.” You said tearfully. You and Tom stared at each other for a long time. He could see how hurt you were and prepared to make amends.

“I love you.” He said meekly.

“Don’t give me that.” You shook your head and looked up at the ceiling.

“I do.” He said firmly but you didn’t answer. “What do you want me to give you, then?”

“A reason to stay, maybe?” You shrugged sadly as tears fell down your cheeks. “I’m seeing nothing but a lifetime of loneliness ahead of me because of your beloved job.”

“We love each other. Isn’t that enough of a reason?” Tom stepped closer to you but you backed away. His face fell at your indifference.

“I always thought it would be but…” you shrugged and pulled your sweater tighter around you.

“You wouldn’t leave.” Tom said starkly.

“I would if I had nothing to come back to.” You looked him in the eye. His eyes were red now too.

“I’m here. I’m what you have to come back to.” His voice wavered as he got to the point of tears.

“Tom, when are you ever here?” You laughed at the absurdity of his statement. “When have I ever had you to come back to you?”

“You think I like the traveling anymore than you do? I hate leaving you. I miss you like crazy when I’m away. It kills me to be apart.” He defended himself as he raised his voice.

“Oh, is that why you don’t answer my texts? Because being away from me killed you?” You asked sarcastically. “That makes total sense now. Although, I never really got the feeling you “missed me like crazy” when you were dodging my calls.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Tom apologized, knowing this wasn’t an argument he was going to win. “I’ll start coming home more, I promise.”

“Like you promised you’d come to my show?” You shot back, not yet ready to let him off easy.

“I just forgot! Am I not allowed to forget things?” Tom shouted.

“You have ten thousand assistants who revolve around you like you’re the sun and not one of them was there to remind you about my show?” You yelled. Tom quoted down when he realized you were right.

“Darling, I cannot deal with this right now.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “Can we please talk about this tomorr-” he cut himself off with a sigh.

“What?” You asked bitterly.

“I won’t be here tomorrow. I have press in New York. I have a flight out of Manchester after the meeting tonight.” He told you with dad eyes. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot to tell you.”

“How convenient.” Your voice cracked. It was at the point where you were plenty used to the goodbyes, but this one felt final.

“I was gonna tell you, I swear. It just slipped my mind.” Tom apologized.

“That’s been happening a lot, hasn’t it?” You snapped.

“You know this is part of the job.” He said weakly, hating himself for having to give you such a lame excuse.

“I do know that.” You nodded. “What I didn’t know is that I was gonna live my life freezing to death in the shadow of your career!” You shouted.

“Then get a new life!” He shouted back, eyes immediately displaying regret. You tilted your head as tears streamed down your face.

“Do you mean that?” You asked quietly.

“Maybe I do.” Tom shrugged as he stared you coldly in the eye. His phone buzzed and he glanced down at it. “I have to go.”

“Good. Go.” You snapped. He went to the door but stopped and looked at you.

“You’re gonna be here when I get back, right?” He asked timidly.

“Would you even notice if I wasn’t?” You responded as you went to retreat into the bedroom.

“Darling, wait-“ Tom began to follow you but you stopped in your tracks.

“I don’t have anything left here to wait for.” You told him and you watched his heart break.

Tom opened his mouth to speak but his phone buzzed again. He looked at it and sighed as you wiped a tear.

“Go. Your car is waiting.” You said.

“I can’t leave you like this.” He mumbled as he typed something into his phone.

“Just leave. You know how.” You said bitterly. Tom looked up at you at your words. He was in a bad way. His nose was running and his eyes were bloodshot.

“I can cancel on the press. I can stay home-“ he said desperately.

“This is not a home! This is a prison!” You yelled. “I am chained to this one man cult we call a relationship. Please, just go! You have people waiting on you, people you clearly find more important than me. You need to leave, because I will never kick you out. Go on your press tour. Go to New York. Go do your precious “job” and meet your fans. Go stare at the fucking moon. I don’t care. Just leave.” You yelled until your voice was ragged.

“You’ll never find someone like me.” Tom warned, saying anything he could to get you to stay.

“I hope to God that’s true!” You screamed.

Tom took a step towards you, but his phone buzzed again. He wiped a tear off his cheek and nodded.

“I’ll be back in a week.” He swallowed.

“Good for you.” You said dismissively as you walked into the bedroom and slammed the door. He stared at the door for a long time, about to knock when he got yet another text telling him his car was there. He swallowed thickly, pressed a kiss to the outside of the door, and left without another word.

“I’m home.” Tom called into his home a week later.

He immediately felt the chill of your fight hitting him. When he didn’t hear a response from you, he shivered in his jacket, suddenly feeling like he was wearing somebody else’s clothes. He set his bag down timidly in the ground and looked around. The first thing he noticed was the lack of dishes in the sink. You weren’t one for cleaning up after yourself and Tom had grown accustomed to coming home to a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. You’d usually wash and dry them together before settling down on the couch to watch a movie. Tom felt fear prickle the back of his neck at the empty sink. There was no way you’d actually left, Tom told himself. You wouldn’t just up and go without a note or a call or a text. Not that Tom was very good at answering your calls and texts. Tom took another step into the house and glanced around the living room. Your favorite blanket was missing and the room looked like it hadn’t been touched since Tom left a week ago. Your pile of movies was no longer next to the TV and Tom began to feel sick.

“Y/n? I’m home.” He called out again. His voice bounced off the walls but didn’t get a reply. His palms began to sweat as he walked into the kitchen and opened the cabinet. All of your coffee mugs were gone. There was an empty space in the middle of the cabinet where they used to be.

“Princess? Are you here?” Tom called out, desperately this time. When he was met with silence, he rushed into the bathroom. Tom washed his face with cold water and noticed your toothbrush was missing from the holder. He started at the vacant spot for a long tome before rushing into your shared bedroom. Upon entrance, he noticed your pillow missing. The bed looked like it hadn’t been slept in all week, and Tom feared it hadn’t. He flung open your closet doors and noticed a large gap in your clothing. All your favorite T-shirts were gone. After rummaging through the drawers, Tom found that your leggings, bras, underwear and socks were all missing too. Tom sat on the bed and out a hand over his mouth to muffle his sobs.

You’d done it. You’d left him.

While he spent the week with friends and fans, you spent the week packing up your life. Tom snapped his head up when he heard the doorbell ring.

“Babygirl?” He asked as he rushed to the front door. He swung it open, only to find his next door neighbor.

“Oh, hey Tom. Glad to see you’re back.” His elderly neighbor smiled at him.

“Hi Shane.” Tom said weakly.

“I wanted to see how Y/n was doing. She left kinda late Thursday’s night and I haven’t seen her since. Been about a week I think.” Shane informed Tom. He perked up at the mention of you.

“You saw her leaving?” Tom asked. “When was this again?”

“Thursday. Sped off in such a hurry, you’d think she was in a race.“ Shane laughed. Tom looked past Shane and noticed your car wasn’t in the driveway.

“Did she say where she was going?” Tom inquired.

“Oh, no. My wife and I only saw her leave. We were visiting our son all weekend and got worried when we got back and saw her car was still missing. I rang the doorbell a few times this week but there was never an answer.” Shane said and Tom felt like crying all over again. “When I saw that you had come back if figured I’d ask you. Is she okay?”

“I’m sorry Shane, I don’t know.” Tom answered honestly.

“She’s not home?” Shane asked.

“Uh, no.” Tom looked back in the house and then back at Shane. “Shes not home.”

“Do you think it’s serious? Has she ever done this before?” Shane wondered.

“No. Never.” Tom shook his head.

“Have you tried calling her? You two are always so cute, I thought for sure you’d know where she was.” Shane said worriedly. Tom bit his tongue to keep from crying.

“We had a fight before I left last week.” He admitted, feeling like he needed to tell anyone who would listen.

“Oh, did you?” Shane said sympathetically.

“A really bad one.” Tom continued as his voice weighed heavy with guilt.

“That’s okay. Every couple fights. My wife and I have been fighting for 52 years.” Shane tried to cheer him up.

“Shane,” Tom sniffled as he gathered his thoughts, “I don’t think Y/n is coming home anytime soon.”

“No?” Shane asked sadly.

“I think she might’ve left.” Tom said with a shaking voice. “Left me.”

“Oh, Thomas.” Shane nodded in understanding. “I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“I’m so sorry, will you excuse me?” Tom closed the door quickly before his neighbor could see his tears. He leaned against the door and slid down it as tears poured from his eyes. He sobbed into his hands for a moment until he noticed something. Your easel was standing in the middle of the living room with a sheet covering it. Tom got to his feet and carefully approached the easel. He soon reached it and pulled the sheet off. The canvas was a mirage of gray and white with a portrait of a woman crying. She was holding half of her own broken heart and cradling it to her chest. In the background, a faint silhouette of a man walking away with the other half of her broken heart trailing on a string behind him.

Toms words echoed in his mind from that night: “Paint how you feel.”

That’s how you felt. Heartbroken, abandoned, and tethered, all because of Tom. Tom ran his fingertips over the painting as if were a piece of you. He tilted his head and smiled at it fondly, always blown away at how talented you were, even when painting your lament.

He noticed another canvas leaning against the back wall, also covered in a sheet. He walked briskly to it and ripped the sheet off.

Underneath the off white sheet was a portrait of Tom himself sitting on the world. He had a crown on his head and a bright smile on his face. There were tiny, detailed fans and billboards with his name on either side of him. He was in a suit and had his hand clamped firmly around a the sun. You had painted with bright colors, colors of the sunset and the sky. Your words from the fight came back to him:

“You have ten thousand assistants who revolve around you like you’re the sun and not one of them was there to remind you about my show?”

On the other side of the globe sat a girl. Tom turned the portrait around and saw you. You were sitting alone, literally on the other aide of the world. Tom felt his heart break when he noticed you were staring off mournfully at the moon. On the top corner of the painting was a blue “first prize” ribbon. Tom distinctly remembered you telling him you didn’t place, despite you winning the entire competition.

That was enough for Tom. The tingling sensation started in his nose and he found himself able to see less and less of your painting as tears well up in his eyes. Body shaking sobs ripped through him as it finally sunk in that you had left him. He cried into his hands until he heard something coming from the guest bedroom.

A cough.

Tom almost thought he imagined it until he heard it again. Someone was coughing in the house. Tom scrambled to his feet and pressed an ear against the door. He heard silence for a while, then a sniffle. His heart pounded in his ears as he twisted the doorknob.

Tom opened the door slowly and heard a clanking from the floor. He looked down and saw a pile of your favorite coffee mugs, a few plates, and some bowls on the ground. He pushed them aside and fully stepped into the room. Sitting in the guest bed was a very pink-nosed and red-eyed you. You were lazily scrolling through your phone as you dabbed at your nose with a tissue. There was a bottle of bills and a bottle of cough medicine on the nightstand, as well as a sea of mugs. There was a garbage can next tot he bed with a mountain of tissues coming out as well as surrounding it. Tom felt like he was seeing a ghost and suddenly felt like a stranger in his own home. He looked around the room and saw all your missing clothes strewn around. You were wrapped in your favorite blanket and your pile of movies was next to a tub of ice cream by the TV. Tom blinked a few times in shock.

“Oh, you’re home.” You spoke and Tom snapped out of his daze. You didn’t sound angry, just congested.

“Y/n?” Tom whispered as if he spoke to loudly, you might disappear.

“Hi, Tommy.” You said sleepily as you rubbed your eyes. “Did you just get home?”

Tom watched your every movement as you scratched your head and reached for the cup of water next to the bed. He quickly got it before you did and handed it to you, taking a careful seat next to you on the bed. You gave him a grateful smile before downing the glass. You licked your dry lips a few times and sighed.

“Yeah. I just got in.” He said, never taking his eyes off you.

“I didn’t hear it. I’m on this medication that completely knocks me out. Oh, I’m sick, if you haven’t noticed.” You laughed sleepily. “I got the flu from one of my friends.”

“You’re sick? That’s why you’re in here?” Tom asked as hope burbled in his chest.

“I didn’t want to contaminate all your stuff.” You told him. “Can’t have you getting sick before Uncharted starts filming.” His heart warmed at the thought of you looking out for him even after the fight you had.

“Thank you, princess. I appreciate you looking out for me.” He told you sincerely.

“Uh oh.” You looked at him with a half smile. “You only call me “princess” when you’re really upset. What’s going on?”

Toms lip began to tremble at your words and you looked worried.

“Your toothbrush isn’t in the bathroom.” Was all he could find the strength to say.

“Yeah, because it was disgusting. I had to throw it out this morning.” You assured him.

“All your stuff is missing. Your clothes, movies, mugs.” Tom continued.

“Look around you.” You laughed again, gesturing to all your previously “missing” stuff.

“Shane is worried about you. He said you left Thursday and never came back.” Tom told you.

“Aw, is he? I drove to the hospital Thursday night because my fever was so high and the doctor made me stay overnight. I took an Uber back on Friday because I got sick in my car. Its at the shop getting cleaned until tomorrow. Would you tell him I’m okay?” You asked.

“Of course.” Tom nodded, feeling himself relax a little.

“Thank you.” You said. The room fell into an awkward silence. Tom toyed with what he needed to say in his head.

“I saw your paintings.” Tom spoke up.

“Oh.” You said causally, knowing the content of the paintings.

“You didn’t tell me you got first place.” He said softly.

“I didn’t want you to feel bad for missing it.” You admitted.

“Princess” ,Tom laughed sadly, “I feel terrible. I feel terrible about every thing. Every word I said to you, I regret it. I thought about you and our fight the entire time I was gone. I couldn’t eat or sleep. I was miserable without you. And when I came home today and all your stuff was gone…” Tom trailed off as he got emotional again. You pulled him to you chest and let him cry it out. “I thought you left. I thought you left me.”

“I would never leave you.” You promised.

“But our fight.” He cried.

“All couples fight. The ill-timing and stress didn’t help. But I’m not someone who just walks away. Especially not from something like this.” You assured him as you stroked his hair.

“I hurt you. I missed your show, I didn’t talk to you when I was home.” Tom listed off his mistakes. “I abandoned you.”

“It’s the job.” You laughed sadly.

“No. I’m not gonna let that be an excuse anymore.” Tom pulled his head off your chest and you wiped his eyes. “You deserve better. So, so much better. I’m sorry it took you almost leaving for me to realize how much I need you to stay.”

“I’m sorry about the fight.” You told him weakly. “I said some things I didn’t mean.”

“What didn’t you mean?” Tom asked as he gathered your hands in his and kissed them.

“I know I said there wasn’t nothing here for me to wait for, but there is. Of course you’re worth waiting for. You’re away a lot, and it sucks, but nothing compares to when you’re here. A few days with you is better than a lifetime with somebody else, I know it. It’s just hard to remember the good times when I’m sleeping alone every night.” You finally told him your feelings in a much calmer manner.

“Princess, I’m so sorry. This ends today. If someone needs a meeting with me, they can come to Kingston. I’m not gonna fly all over the globe to talk about movies for an a hour anymore when I could be at home with my beautiful girlfriend. You are so much more important than any job.” Tom promised you. “I didn’t answer you that night, and I honestly didn’t even know the answer, but now I do. I’d give it all up in a heartbeat for you, love. All the money and fame is nothing to me if I don’t have you.”

“Do you really mean that?” You asked him.

“I do. And I’m gonna prove it.” He swore. “I want you to come with me when I shoot Uncharted. And I want you there for the rest of my press tour. You can bring your easel and your brushes and paint all over the world.”

“Really?” You asked happily.

“Yes. People are gonna stop coming to see me and start coming to see you because you’re gonna be the most famous painter in the world.” Tom painted you a picture. “You have more talent than people could even dream of achieving. The world needs to see your work.”

“I’d love to come with you.” You told him with a smile.

“Then do it. We don’t ever have to be apart again. I can’t sleep if it’s not next to you anyway. We won’t have to look at the same moon anymore. I can just roll over and see you instead.” Tom cupped your face. “We’re gonna go to Berlin and Italy and Mexico, all the places you’ve wanted to see. You’re gonna see the prettiest sights and eat the greatest food and live the most wonderful life by my side. And we can go anywhere else you want to go too. Fuck it, baby, we’re going to the moon. Or mars. Wherever. It doesn’t matter as long as we’re together. That’s all I need.”

“That’s all I ever wanted to hear.” You told him as a happy tear rolled down your cheek. “I don’t want someone like you. I just want you.”

“I just want you, too.” He grinned as happy tears welled in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, baby.” You apologized for the fight.

“I’m sorry too.” Tom nodded tearfully as he reached forward to kiss you.

“I’m sick.” You reminded him as you pulled away slightly to dodge his kiss.

“I don’t care.” Tom shook his head as he pressed his lips to yours before pulling you into a tight embrace. “I’m never leaving you again. Just give me a minute to hold my girl.”

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @foreverxholland @writing-for-hours-on-end @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning g @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts  @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human  @celestial-skylines @loveat2am @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @delicately-important-trash @spideygirl2003 @the-crazy-fanfictionist @kii-mii @maryjanee23 @spacebitch2 @vgiselle @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow

[themonotonysyndrome]

The Queen’s Lynchpin

We’re getting to part 3 of the ‘Successors of the Future”! This week has gone back to being hectic so I could only write this part here and there for only a few hours. Still, I’m happy that I could finally finish it. 

And we have the names of MC’s and Yandere!Malleus children as well as his second wife and the other prince! Any piece of info from @tri3tri Second Wife AU is always fun to read! With that said, I’ll be adding their names into the 2 previous oneshots after this is posted so it’s all align. If you want to know more about this AU, please drop by at @tri3tri blog. Their content and drabbles are amazing!

Lastly, I think it’s alright if I don’t add the link and summary of the previous oneshots of this series in every new piece. The intro is just gonna be super long otherwise. But if you guys think that a link and summary it’s a good, please let me know I’ll be sure to add them in. 

-

“Uh Mama? Have you been hearing... noises in the middle of the night?”

“You mean your sister talking to her mirror in her room in the dead of the night? Then yes, sweetie.”

MC smile, deeply amused, when her son let out a huge sigh of relief. “Oh, it’s just her talking to Ren.” 

“I’ll tell her to keep it down if she’s talking to Renata at night, don’t worry.” MC assured him with a pat on his head. 

“Thanks, Mama. Say, do you have any plans for today?” Lucien’s sudden question was a little odd to MC. The three of them have been staying in the house - only going out for a grocery run - lately, and she didn’t have any plans to change it. 

“Not really. I was thinking to catch up with some leftover work from the office before Monday comes. Why? Do you want to go anywhere?” MC inquire curiously.

Lucien is quick to shake his head. “Oh, no, no. Umm... Mama, you often look so sad lately. We know that having Ren away at Twisted Wonderland has been hard on you, so I just thought maybe we could all do something to help make you feel better.” He explains with a bit of hesitance, wringing his hands. It’s clear to MC that this is one sensitive topic that he didn’t want to unintentionally hurt her with. 

MC couldn’t help but smile at how thoughtful her little one is. Really, all of her children can be rowdy in their own way but at the end of the day, she always noticed that they tried so hard not to make her worry. But as the parent, it’s her honour to protect her children - not the other way around. Which is why seeing the hesitant expression on Lucien’s face tugs her heart. 

“Oh, Luci. I didn’t mean to worry you and your sisters. It’s just that...” MC paused for a moment to think on how to properly express her feelings. “None of you has ever been separated from me. The issue with your father is one thing, but I can’t help but fret about your oldest sister. Is she eating well over there? Sleeping early on a school day? Oh, but then again, she does have a habit of waking up around 2 in the morning looking for a snack if she sleeps too early.” MC bit her lower lip, she should have told Renata during their last talk to keep some snacks in her room in case she gets hungry. 

Ever since Renata had first contacted Sherrie and taught her the communication runes and she in return, taught her and Lucien on how to draw them on any mirror in the house, they all have been talking to Renata through the large, hanging mirror in the living room every day. 

“We can ask her if she’s been waking up in the middle of night after our dinner, Mama.” Lucien assured their mother. He took her empty tea cup and pour some tea from the still hot pot and push the porcelain cup back to her. They were having tea and a light meal in the kitchen after he had woken up from his nap. 

Sherrie passed on their invitation since she’s too busy livestreaming her latest game in her room. From below, they could hear her muffled voice. 

MC took a sip and hums thoughtfully. “You’re right, Honey. I’ll be sure to do that. Anyway, you mentioned a family activity - what do you have in mind?” Perhaps a distraction is just what she needed to get her mind off Malleus and the inevitable danger he’ll bring. 

Lucien’s eyes brighten in delight. Happy that he could do something to cheer her up. 

“I found this recipe recently and I was hoping that we can all cook together? It’ll be fun I promise!” He pleaded. Among all her children, Lucien is the only one with the knack for cooking. Sherrie can make simple meals whenever she wants. 

Renata, however, needs to be supervised even if she wants to boil a pot of water. 

“Sure! I’d love to. So what’s this recipe you want to cook?” 

Much later when it’s almost dinner time and Sherrie wrapped up her livestream, MC and Lucien are already in the kitchen preparing to cook. Curiously, she glances at the list of ingredients and steps for dinner that was left on the kitchen counter and her eyes bugged out at what they were going to make. 

“I feel like there are things that mankind should never attempt lest the price be their sanity. And this? This is it!” Sherrie shrieked, flapping the flimsy paper incredulously at them. MC is preparing the dough while Lucien makes sure they got all the ingredients out and ready. 

“What? Boba pizza sounds delicious!” Lucien rebuke with a small frown. “And beside, you won’t know if you like them if you haven’t try.” 

Sherrie just slap her forehead at his words, as if she couldn’t believe this. “I know you’re pretty crazy for boba teas but this is ridiculous! Pizza dessert for dinner? Can’t we have something normal, Mama?” She pleaded their mother. 

MC toss her a playful smile as she rolls the dough. “Well honey, it does sound pretty exciting when you said it. Pizza dessert!” When Sherrie’s face scrunched up in disgust, she tries to coax her daughter, “Aww, c’mon, honey. Look, you can order a delivery for yourself but come have fun with us! I’ll even let you toss the dough if you want.” 

Sherrie folded after that. Honestly, making pizza - of any kind - is always messy process, but her children are having fun with smudges of powder on their faces and MC felt her heart lighten just hearing them laugh. Dinner might be unconventional tonight, but it was worth it to see Lucien enjoy eating his pizza and Sherrie reluctant admittance that it tasted alright, if a bit weird. 

Once the kitchen is all cleaned up and their stomachs full, they settled in the living room. MC and Lucien watched as Sherrie used her old, red lipstick to draw the runes on the mirror. The surface rippled once, sinking the runes and reveal Renata in her pyjamas beaming at them. 

“Good evening everyone! How are ya’ll doing?” 

“Hi sweetie. We just had dinner.” MC said, glad that her eldest daughter still looks healthy and happy. 

“You wouldn’t believe what we had for dinner.” Sherrie interjects dryly. The 3 of them are sitting on the couch with MC in the middle. “It’s so weird!”

“But you liked it!” Lucien countered with a smug grin before turning to his oldest sister. “We had boba pizza! It was amazing!”

“Boba pizza!? Nooo! I can’t believe you all ate them without me! I’ve been wanting to try them!” Renata whines. “I wish we can pass stuffs through the mirror. Wait - I might be able to do something about that actually.” She goes on to mutter about needing to bully the headmaster again.  

The family traded what they did during the day, Renata assuring them that yes, she had a storage full of snacks in her room and that her favourite lesson so far is Flying class. Once that’s out of the way, MC asked her daughter, “How are your assignments? Is Leona-senpai’s son helping you out?”

When Renata told them that her History’s assignment partner is none other than Leona’s son, MC was a bit worried if he carries his father prejudice against Malleus towards her daughter, but Renata assured her that other than his funny attempts at posturing and warning growls, Bakari Kingscholar has been nothing but civil and helping out with researching and editing their papers. 

“Yup! We’re nearly done with our homework and I think we’re friends now? He’s a bit of tsundere which makes teasing him so much fun!” Renata giggled. “You know, just today we decided to have lunch together after our assignment and when I went back to my room and check my bag, there was a candy bar inside. He must’ve slip it in when I told him that I snacked often.” 

Sherrie immediately drop her phone. She was mindlessly browsing through her Twitter account while they talked, but her attention perk like a hound dog. “Whoa, whoa wait - he bought you food when you told him that you eat often? Me thinks he might like you, dude.” 

MC’s eyes widen and Lucien gape. Could that be true!? 

But Renata just rolled her eyes. “Oh please, I think he was thanking me for not making him do all the work. You know those tough guy acts? Yeah, it’s nothing special.” 

Sherrie tilt her head, clearly not believing it, but keep it to herself for now. 

“Being the only girl in a school for boys must be tough.” Lucien mused sympathetically. “I’m glad that you have a friend with you, Ren.” 

“Well, Diasomnia students has mostly been friendly yet distant with me so far. Probably because of this,” Renata twirl her fingers beside her horns to emphasise her point. “But it’s cool. So far, no one tries to bully me or anything. And by the way, I’ve been staying out of trouble, Cherry. I haven’t even landed myself in detention so far.” She proudly announced. 

“Yet.” Sherrie snickers. 

Lucien frowns at her. “Ren has been working hard, Cherry. She’s been sticking to your plans, right? I seriously don’t think she will mess it up.” 

“Nah, it’s all cool Luci. I’ve mostly been blowing off steam during Magishift. It’s super fun! I wish you guys could play too.” Renata said and then proceed to explain to her siblings what Magishift is all about. 

That’s another thing that MC had picked up as Lucien grew up. Despite how close her daughters are, they do bickers as sisters tend to and Lucien usually act as the mediator and peacemaker between them when things get too heated. 

MC couldn’t help wonder if her sweet boy would ever be like this if he was raised in Malleus’ castle.

The family talked a little more until it was getting late. After bidding each other goodnight and MC telling her daughter to keep herself safe, she ushered Lucien and Sherrie to their bed and tucked herself in. 

That night, she dreamt of a past memory. However in her dream, all 3 of her children are laughing and free as they grow in her world. 

-

Now that Lucien thinks about it - he doesn’t really know what Sherrie plan is exactly. He’s aware that they’re doing their best to help Renata avoid being discover by their father as long as they can and Mama told her to make friends with the children of her old friends since they helped her out a lot during her school life in Night Raven College but other than that? He doesn’t know what they would do once father found out about their oldest sister. 

That particular though came back in his mind when he woke up from his sleep because he heard Sherrie giggling in her room. With blearily eyes, he checked the time on his phone and groan. 

It’s 3.15 in the morning. 

He push himself out of his warm bed with great difficulties and slowly padded towards Sherrie’s bedroom. 

He knocked twice and groan, “Sherrie? It’s seriously late. Why aren’t you sleeping yet?” 

“Shit, Luci-chan? Sorry, did I woke you up? You can come in if you want. The door is not locked.” 

With a tired grumbled, he swings open the door and zombie-walk to her sister who is sitting in front of her vanity table, talking to Renata. 

“Hey Luci! Sorry that we woke you up!” Renata apologised quickly, guilty that they’ve disturbed their little brother. “I was just reporting to Cherry that I found several hidden and unmarked paths that connects to father’s castle and to the outside world of the Valley of Thorns. I thought it might come in handy so I wanted to share it with her.” 

That sounds interesting to Lucien. He’s a little more awake now. “Did you use your spells to scout the area?”

“I sure did! Haven’t been caught by anyone or any bat so far.” 

“What... what does father’s castle look like?” Lucien couldn’t help but asked. It’s hard to believe that he and his family are actually royalty. That his Mama and sisters used to live in a castle. 

It’s still hard to accept that he’s actually a prince. 

“Gloomy.” Was Renata immediate reply. All her previous good humour vanishes and her hard glare surprises him. “We hardly get any sunshine because father controls the weather with his temper tantrums.”

“Not to mention that we had to live with basically strangers.” Sherrie added. “I never really feel comfortable around the castle’s staffs. Sure we got the family wing all to ourselves but we still had to deal with them.” Both Lucien and Renata understand her unspoken words: having to deal with judgemental strangers is difficult. 

“What are you going to do once father founds out you’re in Twisted Wonderland, Ren? Are you going to go hiding?” Lucien asked. 

It’s Sherrie who answered him, “No. We’re going to make sure that he can’t forcefully take Mama or any of us back to the castle. I just need a little more info and we can act once the 3 of us are in Twisted Wonderland.” She explains. 

“We suspect that once Cherry hits sixteen, the Ebony Carriage will also pick her up and by that time I’ll be in my second year as a student here. If that’s the case, we just need you here and then it’s the second phase.” Renata took over explaining here. “Rumours spread fast in Night Raven College, but it’s not going to reach to father. He’s in an isolated country. Well, not until he’s here.”

Lucien blink, now lost. “He? Who’s he?” 

“We have a halfbrother - Victor. He’s the same age as you, Luci-chan. Looks like father didn’t waste any time getting his second wife pregnant.” Sherrie said with a smile that honestly send cold shivers up his spine. It’s sweet with a poison laced underneath. Lucien seen this smile only once. A girl from school tried to blackmailed and bullied her into doing her biddings. 

He heard that the girl was transferred to another school in a different state soon after when news broke out that she was selling drugs with her boyfriend to the students. 

Lucien would like to believe that the incident had nothing to with his sister, but he’s seen what she does for Renata whenever she lost her homework or to the English Literature teacher that had an issue with her. 

So Lucien needed to asks this. “Are you... are you going to hurt him?” His voice is soft and careful. 

Through the mirror, Renata eyed Sherrie in which his second sister leans into her chair and relaxes. “I won’t, don’t worry. After all, he’s not at fault.” 

Words are Sherrie’s favourite playthings and at that moment, Lucien hopes she means it. 

-

Funny enough, I’ve been calling S/N (Lucien) as Luciel because it means light and I HC that MC sees him as the unexpected light that Malleus gave her. Her daughters are a treasure but Lucien serve as MC’s light. It’s fate! 

So far for Lucien, my main reference for him are two people actually. Dead Master from Black Rock Shooter and Nisha Labyrinth from Elsword! 

Will expand more on them as I continue to write. Also, I’m shit when it comes to timeline and ages so here’s my rough idea so far:

Renata = 16 years old (first-year student)

Sherrie = 15 years old

Lucien = 13 yeard old

I’ll change the kids’ age if Tri reveal them on their blog.  

[projectwkm]

Okay, so... I’ve been seeing you posting a lot of stuff about Actor Mark being just misunderstood and actually nice- but, I’m not convinced. (Which is surprising considering I’m usually the one who likes the “villain,,,”) If I may ask, what’s this theory based off of?

This post has been a long time coming, so sorry! I totally didn’t realise I had asks on this blog,, I’m a fool.

So this is less of a theory of mine and more of an expansion on character and what we know! Do I think for a second Actor is going to be redeemed? No, and I hope he’s not, because I love him so much as a villain. Do I think he is redeemable? Absolutely. Everyone is.

Let’s get into why I think that!

1. ‘A Heartbroken Idiot’

This is the nickname our Mark (in this post I’ll call Actor Mark ‘Actor’, and real Mark ‘Mark, just to avoid confusion) gives Actor. In the WKM Explanation Stream, he calls him ‘a heartbroken idiot’ in reference to his plan on poker night. And if we think about what we canonly know to be true, then there is good reason for this:

The Actor, the Colonel and the Mayor were all childhood friends. The Colonel practically grew up in the Manor with the Actor.

The Actor married Celine. Do we know for certain that they loved each other? No. But we can gather that at some point they were happy, for reasons I’ll go into later.

The Colonel slept with Celine behind the Actor’s back while they were married, and also borrowed copious amounts of money from the Actor to do so (?). The last part could be slightly biased or inaccurate considering Abe was on the Actor’s side for the most part, but I don’t see why he has reason to lie.

The Actor found this out, the Colonel and Celine left, and the Actor spiralled. So far he tried to kill him self. He did kill himself — over and over until his desire to die turned into a desire to understand the Manor he lived in and its oddities.

There are a lot of gaps there, in all honesty. A lot of questions unanswered. Did the Actor and Celine really love each other? Did Celine really love the Colonel? Why was the Colonel so willing to go behind the Actor (his close friend, remember)’s back and have an affair with his wife? Why was Celine so willing to leave her husband if she married him in the first place?

But those questions aren’t important right now, because I’m sticking as close to canon as I possibly can. What matters is that the Actor was betrayed by one of his best friends and that his wife left him in an awful way. They hurt him so badly that he tried to kill himself. Now, this isn’t me ignoring the Entity’s part in all this — we’ll get to that later.

But the purpose of Mark calling Actor a ‘heartbroken idiot’ is that it shows his only motive initially was heartbreak. His actions, initially, weren’t the actions of a man who wanted to destroy his friends and loved ones. In fact, by looking at his attempts to die, especially the first ones, we can see that the only person he wanted to destroy initially was himself. He’d been hurt, badly, by people he called “his close and trusted friends (WKM)”. And he wanted an out. He turned aggressive and revenge-twisted was when his very basic autonomy over his own life was denied to him by the Manor not letting him die.

“After Celine and the Colonel left, Mark was left in this super spiral downwards. He was just completely out of it, didn’t know what to do, and he may have at one point tried to kill himself. But it didn’t work.” (Mark, WKM Explanation Stream)

So before the Manor Entity intervened, was he a bad person? No. Most definitely not. How do we know this, apart from what I’ve said above? This brings us on to point 2:

Celine and Damien

The braincells of the WKM gang, truly. Do you really think they’d stay friends with Actor if he was a bad person? Scratch that, do you think Celine would have married him if he was a bad person? Ruling him as an awful evil person from the start completely undermines the intelligence of the other characters who had been ‘fast friends for years’ with Actor.

That’s not to say he’s flawless. He has an abundance of flaws that the Entity brings out in him (see point three), but even before the Entity, his flaws were probably very visible, especially to his friends and wife. Actor was no doubt an egotistical ass, don’t get me wrong, he was no saint, but he also wasn’t evil. If he was, Celine, who could sense the energy of the Manor as soon as she walked in, would have surely refused to marry him.

It’s hinted that they didn’t have the best relationship by Mark in the DAMIEN Explanation Stream, that much is true. Their reasons for marrying could have been anything — from a passionate spur of the moment decision they didn’t properly think about, to a marriage potentially motivated by finance or power — and we don’t know if they were ever truly happy. We don’t know if Celine loved Actor, but it is implied she at least felt something for him, judging by the look of distress on her face in Chapter Three of WKM when it is revealed Actor is dead.

We also don’t know if Actor loved Celine. I’m inclined to say he did, considering his original plan was to steal the Colonel’s body and get back together with Celine, but there’s a fine line between love and obsession. (In my personal opinion, their relationship started off well before the Manor Entity began to shape them, but my personal opinion doesn’t come into it right now.)

But do you really think if he’d been evil or abusive (as I’ve seen some call him) that Celine or Damien would even be upset about his death, nonetheless have stuck by his side for so long? I doubt it. Mark says nowhere that Actor was a bad person to start off with, and goes into detail of what the Manor Entity actually did to him in the Explanation Streams of DAMIEN and WKM, so read below for more notes on that!!

The Manor Entity

Aha.... my least favourite character of all time...

Words cannot describe how much I despise this thing (whatever it is, Mark described it as more of a concept than anything else). Even as I write this, I feel a boiling rage inside me. Nonetheless! I will keep as fair and as unbiased of a take as I can while I analyse Actor’s relationship with the Manor Entity.

So let’s start with its affects BEFORE the Colonel and Celine left. These characters were fucked the moment they lived in that house. The Colonel and the Actor have been affected worst by it due to living in the house as kids; as Mark says, they grew up together in the Manor. So they’ve probably had the worst effects from it. Let’s see what Mark says about the Entity in the Manor!—

“The thing [about the Manor] that causes people to change, and the thing that curses people, it’s this…. Not a thing, but it’s this idea that whispers in your ear, and the worst thing it could possibly do is that it makes you think that the ends justify the means, in whatever situation…. It’s this thing gently over time just whispering.”

An idea. A whisper in your ear, exacerbating worse qualities and constantly suggesting. Something you don’t even know about until it’s too late. It’s not so hard of a leap to make that it could have made the Chef so aggressive (he’s been there the second longest, other than George the Groundskeeper), could have made the Colonel more hot tempered and liable to cause trouble between a husband and wife, could have very easily twisted the Actor to be a worse person.

We’ve already made it clear that the Actor is not without his flaws. On the contrary, he might be the most flawed from the group. Cocky and stubborn and prideful, passionate and a performer, it’s not so hard to see the Entity delighting at being able to plant seeds in his head. Just little suggestions: “maybe you’re better than them” “maybe they’re holding you back” “maybe they’re conspiring against you”. Just little, back-of-your-head thoughts that, over time, would change him into someone worse, something else.

Something that could have potentially driven him away from Celine and driven Celine into the arms of the Colonel.

Am I saying this is definitely what happened? No. As I say, a lot of canon from Before The Poker Night is missing, and left to speculation. But from what we know about the Entity, and what we know about what it does, it’s increasingly likely it’s been manipulating things from behind the scenes for a while even before the Actor takes his own life.

Cut to Celine and the Colonel leaving. Damien is gone too (God knows where, perhaps the Actor just shuts him out too), leaving the Actor alone in the Entity’s puppet strings. Another Mark quote!

Imagine [the Actor]: his wife left him, his friend betrayed him, the [Entity] whispers “that’s not fair, no, that’s not fair”.... “No, you’re right, that’s not fair.....” “Why should they be happy?....” “No, no, of course, no, they shouldn’t be happy.....” “Maybe they don’t deserve to be happy, maybe you should do something about them not being happy, maybe you should set something up to make sure they’ll never be happy again.”

The Entity is a powerful thing. Its powers are subtle, so subtle that the Actor probably didn’t even notice he was being changed in the first place. As Mark said “the more you stay in that House, the more it drives you toward things it wants you to do… and the worst part is it convinces you that you thought of it in the first place.”

The Entity could have been the one to suggest that he keeps killing himself. It could have very well been the one to lead him to his death in the first place. And the worst thing is that the Actor wouldn’t have a clue they weren’t his thoughts. He is a puppet without realising it, an actor for the Entity to direct in whichever way it wants.

It’s a gradual, awful process. And Actor? As the ‘heartbroken idiot’, the man Mark describes as being a ‘pawn’, that had a lot of time alone in the Manor depressed and bitter over being hurt? He didn’t stand a chance against it.

By the time we meet Actor in WKM, it is very unlikely much of the original man remains at all. While he acts cheery and cocky as usual in the beginning, the bitter puppet we see in the Void after we die and the mania-driven ‘hero’ from DAMIEN is most likely all that remains of the original. Mark from the WKM Explanation Stream explained that “every time [Actor] died, he got sent to this [Void], and was able to get a deeper understanding of it”. Doing so pushed him further and further into the embrace of the Entity, until he was nothing more than a pawn. A puppet.

Actors have little to no control over the scene they play out. It’s the director’s job to push them in the direction they want. And the relationship between the Actor and the Entity seems to function as such: even if the Actor himself doesn’t realise that yet.

And finally, my last point:

No characters are good.

Mark gave a very good quote in the DAMIEN Explanation Stream that I rely on when writing Actor, Dark and Wilford — “no one’s truly, fully, 100% evil”. In the same way, no one is truly, fully, 100% good all the time. It’s impossible. And incredibly relevant when it comes to our three Main Boys, who are all so flawed and broken that it’s not even funny.

We’ll start with Wilford first. It’s easy to forget (for me, at least) all the things he’s done wrong because he’s such a goddamn sweetheart. But- and I won’t go into too much detail- here are some of his ‘crimes’: poaching, murder (several times, as the Colonel and as Warfstache), an affair with his best friend’s wife, with multiple other offences written somewhere in the detective’s study / office (I can’t be bothered finding them dhdjdjnej). Arguably, he also has reason for people to point to him being guilty: he broke his best friend’s heart to the point he tried to kill himself. Which.... is not good.

This is not me hating on William or Wilford as a character. Au contraire, I love them both. But it’s very rare that I see anyone admit Will’s fault in this, or Celine’s (without laying it all on them, naturally, but that’s another story). Will/Wilford is a complicated character who now seems to be far more good than bad (or simply just mad) and has atoned for the past, but more often than not, people overlook his crimes and mistakes and flaws.

The same with Dark, though honestly to a lesser extent. As far as we know, there is very little that Dark has done. We don’t know if he’s killed anyone (other than perhaps Actor in HEIST), we don’t know what his true crimes are because his role is still heavily influenced by the Actor’s bias. But Dark still has his faults and flaws. He’s obsessive and clearly incredibly angry and bitter over what happened, trapped somewhat in the past the same way that Wilford is in the present and Actor in the future. Once again, this isn’t me hating Dark (he’s one of my favourite characters dfhjvffhh), but simply pointing out the negative sides to him, rather than ignoring them. It’s to point out that people — and characters — aren’t 100% good or 100% evil (honestly, they’d be less interesting that way). That includes fan favourites.

Actor is probably the worst out of them. He’s delusional, painfully narcissistic, arrogant and a self-righteous asshole. Nobody is denying that. But underneath that, Mark also describes him as a ‘broken thing’: he’s not the man he used to be. Can he be easily seen as evil now, after everything he’s done? Yes. He’s murdered and he’s betrayed, but let’s not forget he too was murdered and betrayed. This doesn’t excuse what he’s done, but rather offers us insight into his thinking — an eye for an eye. In his eyes, the poker night (at the time) was justified. William and Celine and Damien all betrayed and hurt him, so he was going to hurt them.

Things didn’t go according to plan for him, though. I very much doubt murder was in his original plans, but alas, the Entity twisted his plans unrecognisably. (Whether or not he now regrets the poker night and his actions is up for speculation, and for another post sghcdgb.)

If it is Actor in HEIST and DATE (which I’m very inclined to say it is), it’s clear to me he’s changed: even slightly. Sacrificing himself over and over for Y/N, wooing them with dates and flashy heists, planning everything perfectly for them and giving them the choice on their adventures: now, this could just be me, but that sounds rather far from an evil man. Instead, it sounds to me like Actor knows he’s done bad things, but instead of trying to confront them, he simply runs away from them; he escapes from the reality he’s created by delving into fictional fantasies of adventure where he can finally be the hero.

And that’s not action of a man who is entirely evil. That’s action of a desperate man. A coward, perhaps, but not wholly bad or awful. “A pawn in all this”, as Mark describes him, unable to come to terms with the atrocity of the poker night and what he’s done to his old friends.

To Conclude My Answer!

Actor Mark is my favourite character of all time and has turned into a special interest of mine, but I hope he’s not redeemed. That being said, he is not an ‘evil’ character, and could certainly be redeemed if he ever fully escaped the Entity’s control and owned up to stone for the past (though being redeemed would almost certainly break him — another post for another time).

Everyone’s interpretations of Actorare valid, but I also think it’s important when writing him as close to canon as possible to remember some of Mark’s comments on him, and also to remember his past and how he’s been manipulated by the Entity into something different entirely. While doing so doesn’t excuse his behaviour or awful actions, it offers insight and a way to understand why he’s done certain things!

Ultimately, it’s up to Mark himself to canonise or develop the story and character arcs, which he has done so much already. I cannot WAIT to see where Actor and everybody’s stories end up going, and big preesh to him for making such a heartbreaking wonderful story!!!

If anyone would like to hear me rant more about Actor or the story of WKM and it’s sequels, leave a question or ask and I’ll certainly do it!!

[corruptedconfessions]

Have to say scrolled through your entire blog and loved every piece of writing! Especially the Bakugou dragon and Kirishima ones. You definitely have a gift! ❤️ If possible I say original Yugioh is something you cover. Would it be possible to get head cannons of Yami Bakura with his darling? What kind of yandere would he be? If not still going to keep up on your writing regularly ☺️

Hnnn I had the biggest crush on all forms of Bakura as a kid. I’m 99% sure Bakura was the first character I read/wrote poly for since I couldn’t pick between them whoops

Also thank you so much for the kind words! <3 I appreciate your support!

This came out a little scatterbrained and all over the place rather than following a main thought, im sorry about that!

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

-Yami Bakura would be an...interesting yandere for sure

-Sadistic to the max, very possessive. Honestly he’ll see his darling as more of a game, a treasure to be stolen and won than a partner or significant other. Though, with enough work you can worm your way into his heart and he’ll be softer (as soft as a being of darkness can be anyway, he probably thinks a human heart in a box is a romantic gift)

-His vessel Ryou would be a soft, sweet yandere, something that disgusts him. His past self a possessive protective yandere, something that still irritates him but less so. He can appreciate how his love for hording and hiding away his treasure didn’t leave him

-Yami Bakura is a mix of the dark sadistic tendencies of Zorc, and the possessive protective tendencies of his past life. Part of him doesn’t give a shit about you, sees you as a toy, something for his entertainment and nothing more, theres no attachment there. The other part of him is a little too attached to you. He sees you as his treasure to steal and hide away, he wont share it with anyone! He wont even let them see it. 

-I honestly see him probably falling for/getting attached to one of his hosts friends. You’d have to be a frequent in Ryou’s life to even get even a slightest hint of his attention, it’s ridiculously hard to pull his attention from his plot to kill the pharaoh and obtain the millennium items.

-But once you catch his interest there is no escape 

-Unlike Ryou who likes to hide in the ring, avoiding seeing what his spirit does, he is always watching everything around his little host, even if he doesn’t know it. He’ll study you, enraptured. His calculating personality mixed with that spiral of obsession will be a dangerous cocktail for you, one that you won’t be able to escape. Not that you’ll even know you have something you need to escape from, no, he moves too fast. 

-You’ll be kidnapped nearly immediately regardless of which side of him feels stronger towards you. He isn’t someone who likes to share, and he can’t have anyone catching on to his...interest in you and getting in the way. 

-He’ll lock you up probably in a cold dark warehouse somewhere, hidden away where no one else could ever hope to find you. Even Ryou won’t know how to get there. He’ll make sure that his host never even knows about him kidnapping you, or if he does find out it’s beaten into him what will happen if he ever speaks a word of you to someone else, or if he tries to help you. 

-Let’s get this straight, even though he may have a soft spot for you, he won’t be making things easy for you. The warehouse is, cold, wet, dark. He won’t make any attempts to make you more comfortable, you’ll probably be left shivering in whatever he kidnapped you in (Probably your pjs, he’d sneak in in the dead of night and snatch you up)

-He can never hold himself back from visiting you no matter how much he insists he’ll just forget about you there and leave you to rot. He’ll see you nearly everyday, bringing you food and games 

-He’ll force you to play game after game with him, tricking you over and over again. You’ll never win. He makes sure of it.

-You can’t say no to playing, he’ll hold necessities over you like rewards. Oh? You want to eat? Better play a round of duel monsters with him~ Though you’ll probably lose more than you’ve gained in the end...hope that food was worth it.

-Honestly how he responds to you will heavily rely on how you respond to him. He’s unpredictable, his mood towards you changing so rapidly that it’ll be impossible to learn how to use it to your advantage. 

-If you are louder, aggressive and violent with him he’ll respond in kind. His punishments, his ‘rewards’ for winning games will be more cruel and sadistic, he’ll get some kind of twisted glee from breaking you down, making you cry, watching as you lose hope. He’ll never fully break you, of course. At least not yet~

-A softer, more level headed darling will earn more favor from him as long as you keep him entertained. His punishments are more likely to be teasing, cruel taunts rather than ruthless torments. He’ll probably bring you nicer things, play with you a little more. Hell, he might even be nice/soft towards you every once and awhile.

-”Come now, darling~ Don’t tell me you’ve given up already? The game hasn’t even truly started yet!”

-It’s a strange thing, you find yourself getting attached to him, warmth spreading in your chest when his lips quirk up into a smirk when you start doing better at his little games, making him actually try instead of dragging you around the game, a pawn in his little game

-You’ll never win, but sometimes you get close, and you can’t help but feed off the thrill he feels when the game gets risky, both of your heartrates going up as you dance around the board. Both your strategies have adapted to know each other well, it’s almost always left to who can get the higher ground faster. You always find yourself just a turn or two too late. 

-The more you interest him, the nicer he’ll be. Suddenly the gruel that he use to drop to the floor infront of you, or make you earn by losing a game to him becomes treats. Tasty meals that were your favorites, or pastries and desserts that he shoves into your lap before stomping off. You’ll have to take this in stride, simply smiling and thanking him. If you question or poke at him about it he’s sure to snap and you’ll go back to the tasteless gruel

-Still, he’ll start showing up more often and just...hovering around. Sorting through his deck, carving his little figures...just existing in your space. If you watch closely you’ll see his gaze dragging over to you frequently, immediately looking away if he realizes you’ve noticed the starting. Strange...being so timid was out of character for him

-It will be a gradual thing, so slow you don’t even realize things have changed until you find yourself settled across his lap, playing with your hair as he stares down at your face with an unreadable expression. This...tenderness, quiet should unnerve you, it wasn’t like him. He was aggressive, loud, brash...violent. You shouldn’t be trusting him like this. Yet you still found yourself melting into his touch. Somehow, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. 

-That moment changes everything, as long as you play your cards right, behave and don’t set him off he’ll start bringing you things. You don’t ask where they come from, you ignore the bloodstains that sometimes comes on any furniture he brings you. You kiss his cheek and thank him. He smirks at you, grabbing your waist and tells you he thinks he deserves more than that after dragging that shit all the way out here.

-Any thoughts of using this new found power over him are gone, along with thoughts of asking him to let you go, or even trying to escape during the brief times where he leaves you alone for longer than a few hours. You are...content. As you can be. Maybe its Stockholm syndrome sinking in, the pure terror of seeing what he did to others that betrayed him, or the punishments that were beaten into your very core. It didn’t matter anyways, you were never going to escape

-When did this become your new normal?

[lovelahela]

𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤  ↠  𝖎𝖙 𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖘 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓  [day six, @it-lives-week​]

❛ the power is back, and it’s more powerful than ever. you must band together and defeat it once and for all... or die trying. ❜

n.b. i’m basing this off my ilitw mc taking jane’s place and everyone survived in both ilitw and ilb, so some plot points are interchangeable. plus, ilitw and ilb mcs’ characteristics are obviously interchangeable depending on how you played in your own playthroughs/how you have written them.

significant characters.

         ↠ (DETERMINANT) mc: it lives within main character [LI: determinant]. possible faces to choose from: caucasian, south asian, middle eastern, latina,  african. sexuality is determinant. nerve subject to change.

         ↠ (F) marisol reyes: it lives in the woods main character [LI: noah marshall]. filipina. bisexual. nerve subject to change.

         ↠ (F) harper vance: it lives beneath main character [LI: tom sato] african-american. pansexual. nerve is not subject to change if your mc survived ilb.

         ↠ (NB) jamie mcleod: it lives within side character [LI: mc or andy kang]. singaporean, irish. pansexual, demisexual. nerve subject to change.

         ↠ (F) sun-hee ‘sunny’ pong: it lives within side character [LI: mc or dan pierce]. south korean. bisexual. nerve subject to change.

         ↠ (M) okeyo ‘oak’ liao: it lives within side character [LI: mc or jocelyn wu]. kenyan, chinese. bisexual. nerve subject to change.

         ↠ (F) jocelyn wu. it lives in the woods + it lives within side character [LI: mc or okeyo liao]. pansexual. nerve is not subject to change.

romance.

         ↠ so i don’t know if this is gonna make sense but like in the game harvest moon, you can choose to/accidentally activate “heart events” that set your LI up with a different character, so i thought it would be a cool change for you to see an LI option end up with someone else if you don’t romance them. would probably be paywalled though, kind of like grace/aleister in endless summer.

         ↠ jaimie would not have intimate scenes until the second half of the book if mc has established a strong relationship with them.

plot points.

the plot isn’t complete, these are just some ideas i had in mind. i may change some or even all of them when i write my it lives 3 au.

          ↠ [this piece of information is not revealed until late into the story] noah ends up finding a ritual that allows him to bring marisol back, on the condition that he would have to give his soul up to the power after six months and take her place. 

         ↠ in the midst of arguing with his former westchester friend group after revealing his face to them to propose an alliance in order to put a stop to the power, they are interrupted by marisol entering the room, looking and wearing exactly the same as she had on homecoming night, dazed and confused.

         ↠ noah, having thought the ritual hadn’t worked, is just as shocked beyond belief as the rest of them. it is then concluded that marisol does not remember a single thing during her three years as jane’s replacement (though memories come back to her in bits and pieces through nightmares and flashbacks throughout the story), and believes it is still homecoming night and the last thing she remembers is speaking to jane. they do their best to ease her into the fact that 3 years have passed.

         ↠ the main character’s parents were members of the society prior to their death, but they were away for college during the events of it lives beneath. upon hearing of their deaths, they move temporarily to pine springs, and notice that something was off with the quaint town.

         ↠ they take it upon themselves to investigate further into this and later discover the society by following one of its few remaining members into a forest. they are kidnapped, then immediately recognized as the child of their highly esteemed comrades, so they then decide to go easier on them and explain everything about the cult and their parents’ place in it.

         ↠ they are interrupted when a group of strangers [it lives beneath main group] bust their operation and the chief of police ends up hauling off what they then believed to be the last remaining members of the society into jail. meanwhile, tom, imogen, danni, and harper reveal what they had left out about josephine vance and the power that once lived in the lake.

         ↠ the main character, harboring bitter anger towards their parents’ greed for the power and how it got them killed, is immediately motivated to put a stop to it, so they are introduced to connor green, whom tom knew was organizing a group to fight against the supernatural force. together, they move to a town they suspected contained it: northbury, oregon - which was equidistant from westchester and pine springs, both of which were an hour away. 

         ↠ the main character is introduced to the westchester group, including marisol and jocelyn; however, only connor, noah, jocelyn, dan, noah, and andy had decided to move to northbury. the rest decided to remain in their respective towns since they weren’t far away anyway. 

         ↠ in an attempt to blend in with the locals and gain information about the recent disappearances simultaneously, MC makes it their mission to get to know the most significant current residents of northbury that ava cunningham and parker shaw had pulled up information about: jamie mcleod (the younger sibling of one of the missing victims), lawrence khan (northbury’s chief of police), jiao-long liao (occult studies professor at northbury university), and sun-hee pong (a college student who had been caught trespassing on properties including the homes of the missing victims multiple times, and the daughter of one of the missing).

         ↠ upon their arrival, more people start to go missing, and the gang discover that northbury has had a much darker past than westchester and pine springs combined. disappearances date back decades, and the rates are alarmingly high for a town that appeared to be bustling with residents. a local conspiracy blog/forum exposes numerous reports of dead animals cut in a ritualistic/sacrificial manner, sightings of a dark humanoid figure wandering in the trees at night, and rumors of a secret underground cave full of occult symbols drawn with blood on the walls, dust-coated skeletons, and a myth surrounding an ancient monster that was offered sacrifices by its people unknowingly. 

         ↠ honestly this is all i have planned so far lmao but a few more things i had in mind were: (A) there could be a bad ending where they don’t defeat the power, meaning noah’s soul is claimed and he becomes the new redfield (B) if the power is defeated noah gets to stay alive and ends up with marisol, goes to culinary school, all that good stuff (C) i was thinking that even some characters without nerve could have multiple fates depending on how the story goes and who lives, like connor and jocelyn, and maybe it could be dependent on the nerve of others that way the stakes are higher and you’re more motivated to keep the nerve high. e.g. if MC’s nerve is low and they can’t complete a certain task that could save others, jocelyn ends up doing it instead and dies in the process.

so yeah this is mainly what i have in mind for an it lives 3 book! i hope PB change their mind one day and revisit it because it’s truly their best series.

[alma37]

I checked on AO3 and, a year ago today [02/02/20, for those of you who are a few hours behind France], I started posting for a deliciously wicked fandom, Dracula 2020.

So, to mark the occasion, I decided to post here (on AO3 later today), a little one-shot I thought about a few days ago. I wanted to put it in one of my wip, but it didn’t quite fit. I still liked the idea, though, and I needed to write it.

This is also kind of a gift for @hopipollahorror and @lady-of-the-wolves, my steadiest supporters of late. Thank you, girls, I am not sure I would have started writing again without your support.

For @thebeautyofdisorder, I know you had a rough year and I wish you a great 2021. We have so many tastes in common, It seems I continuously reblog from you. I am well aware it won’t make your troubles disappear, but I hope this little piece will make you forget them for 5 minutes (and that it won’t be perceived as further punishment or what’s the phrase? Cruel and unusual punishment!😉) .

For my other mutuals, I know we don’t talk much, if at all, but I am glad you came to see and stayed.

And, of course, for all my followers, occasional readers and everyone else who took the time to come and check my little nothing of a blog, leave comments, reblogs and likes. Thank you guys.

And now, i leave you with a small piece I had great fun to write. As usual.

I apologise for the long-ish introduction.

*************

This is a Dragatha, sometimes in the future (theirs, not ours; perhaps it is our present, in fact, who knows?). Dracula turned Agatha into a vampire. A long time before this fic.

Some sort of enemies with benefits.

And it actually answers to this prompt. I think.

Title : A [h]arrowing evening

Fandom : Dracula TV 2020

Relationship : Agatha x Dracula

Rate : I’d say T or light M

Words : I don’t know, I didn’t count, go check on AO3 when it’s posted!

- Come on, Agatha. Just admit it : you like me!

The former nun turned vampire, Dracula's most fervent opponent, was backed up against the wall, a small wooden arrow in her hand. Why did she decide to come and see him in his own apartment, she’ll never know. Her nemesis was crowding her, a triumphant smile on his face. She defended herself.

- Stop being so arrogant, Count. I don't like you.

- Oh but I think you do. Very much so.

His growing smirk, his roving hands and, mostly his acumen were too much for her. Suddenly blinded by years of pent up rage and frustration, she drove the arrow into his chest with ferocious intent. The small stake slid under his ribs upwards towards his heart.

For a moment, they stayed still face to face, Dracula's smile slowly fading, morphing into an expression of utter stupefaction, as his eyes fell on the weapon thrust into his thorax. Annoyed, Agatha pushed him backwards. To her absolute consternation, he stumbled with a groan, then bent over, his hand reaching blindly for the small piece of wood. His face was now wearing an expression of agony before his legs started to give out under him. With horror, Agatha watched him slowly falling to his knees before his upper body followed suit and he went down like a dead weight. By chance or instinct, he fell to his side, only just avoiding the stake from driving through his heart. Once on the floor, he started writhing in pain, barely able to hold his screams. Finally, Agatha understood : the arrow must have stopped short of piercing the heart, but was probably touching it if his convulsions were any indication.

After a moment of indecision, Agatha grabbed his shoulders to hold him flat on his back then straddled him.

- Stop squirming. You'll only succeed in piercing your heart yourself.

- As if you didn't intend to do it!" Her victim hissed through his pain.

Agatha opened her mouth to retort, then closed it, before she finally replied, surprised with herself :

- I... don't know.

His face was deformed by the unusual pain he was in. She supposed he probably hadn't felt this bad in centuries. Serves him right, but... His strained voice made her jumped out of her thoughts.

- Whatever you intend to do, Agatha, please do it now. It is unbearable.

At his begging tone, the younger vampire froze for a long time, undecided : finish him off, like she promised herself a long time ago, as it was a chance she certainly wouldn't have again, or remove the arrow and stop the bleeding, against all her principles?

Her nemesis was in a state of anguish she had never seen him before. He was shaking so hard, trying to control his body.

But he wasn't begging anymore, just waiting for her decision. She could see in his eyes the torture he was enduring. He still didn't utter another sound.

And she realised that, as much as she thought she hated him, she couldn't bring herself to just end his life, as lifeless as it was.

He was not only a unique creature, he was also the only one who understood her and she realised with a shock that she came to care about him in a way that prevented her from driving the small arrow all the way through his heart. She actually liked their fighting : it was invigorating and, yes, fun. They hadn't really tried to kill each other for years now. His half-hearted attempts to get rid of her, lately, was his way of flirting, she supposed. And apparently, she thought in dismay, became hers too.

But the biggest blow came when she finally realised she actually wanted to tame him somehow or maybe convince him to redeem himself in some ways, which was barely thinkable, much less doable. She just wanted him. Full stop. And annihilating him forever didn't suit her purpose anymore.

- Whenever you want, darling." The count groaned through gritted teeth, his brow drained in sweat.

At last, Agatha came to a decision and, instead of doing what her conscience was telling her, she chose to follow her heart : she wrapped her hand around the piece of arrow that stuck out from his chest and pulled it out without warning.

She was thrown out from his lap by his violent recoil as he screamed out of his lungs in pain. Agatha, not deterred, scrabbled back to him and pinched the wound to stop the bleeding. That last part was easy, as Dracula had promptly passed out.

When she understood he wasn't going to wake up any time soon, she put him to bed and took a book, while keeping watch over him, berating herself all night long for her weakness.

At dawn, the older vampire slowly emerged from unconsciousness. When he opened his eyes, he looked around as if searching for something - or someone. When he found her watching over her book, he started asking in a rough voice : "What..." He cleared his throat several times before trying again :

- What happened?

Agatha lifted an eyebrow.

- Don't you remember?

Dracula began shaking his head :

- I don't... I seem to remember flirting with you and... Ah!" His face cleared. "Yes! You tried to kill me.

Agatha shrugged.

- And I would have succeeded this time.

Dracula straightened up with a groan. Agatha, taking pity on him, piled up a few pillows behind his back and helped him get a more comfortable position on the bed. When she tried to sit back on her armchair, the Count held on to her hand, so she was either obliged to sit on the bed or tried to shake his grip. She chose the easy path and sat next to him.

- So why didn't you finish me off?You had me at your mercy, you could have cleared this world of my evil presence.

Agatha didn't look at him but rather at their joined hands.

- I.. I don't know.

- You would have missed me!

Agatha snapped back.

- Don't be ridiculous!

Dracula smiled his devilish smile.

- You, Agatha van Helsing, like me!

- I most certainly do not!" Agatha protested, outraged. She tried to remove her hand from his, but he was holding fast.

- Well, I wouldn't blame you, you know. I am probably... Definitely head over heels in love with you after last night's little demonstration.

Agatha finally pulled her hand out of his, and stood up, shaking her head.

- You are a...

- monster?

-... beast! And obviously better. So I am leaving. Goodbye, Count Dracula.

Dracula reached for her once more :

- No, wait!

Agatha sighed, annoyed :

- What?

- You could at least kiss it better.

The former nun was about to will him to hell but something in his apparent casualness made her change her mind. She came back to sit on the bed and, after barely an hesitation, she straddled him. She felt him tensed momentarily, probably a reminder of the previous night. But he relaxed when she gently unbuttoned his shirt. She glanced at him and smiled when she saw his look of intense concentration turned towards her. She bent over and she licked the disappearing scar under his ribs. She felt his entire body shudder with pleasure, which made her smile grow larger. She had cleaned him the previous night, so there was no blood to tempt her. His all body was temptation enough. She nibbled at the scar then soothed it with her lips and tongue. Her nemesis had grown rigid from repressed desire. She finally moved from the scar to make her way upwards with slow, languorous and arousing kisses.

The first time he tried to touch her, she took his hands and flattened them back on the bed. The second time, she just held onto them.

The third time, she felt his eagerness wouldn't be denied, so she deftly evaded his grasp before he could close in on her. She moved swiftly out of the bed and put some distance between them, so that he could not reach her fast enough.

- And that's about all the kisses you'll ever have from me. Get a rest, Count Dracula. I will come and check on you tonight.

Without waiting for an answer, she left him in a state of obvious arousal, but laughing at her cunning.

- I can't wait." He called after her. He couldn't resist having the last word. Agatha shook her head in disbelief, but she was smiling.

*********************

Soooo, what did you think? (If it’s bad, please don’t tell me! 😉)

Anyway, I just really really wanted her to stab him at close range and truly physically HURT him (like Zoe, in TDC, but more purposely, if you know what I mean).

For the arrow, I imagine she has a small-ish one, like those used for a crossbow, except it is completely made of wood, even the tip. Something like that...

But, well, you know me : I always prefer a happy (-ish) ending. Reality’s sad enough. We don’t need it into fiction. In any case, I hope you enjoyed it.

If you really liked it, give me a shout and I’ll post the little follow-up I just had an idea of. Which is more on the comedy side (as in funny).

[vapid-slut]

A Dove Reborn; Ch.1

Warning[s]: Character death, Mentions of violence, murder, demonic possession [kinda, eh yea]

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Reader, a catholic schoolgirl, is brought in as a sacrifice. It isn’t until she’s payed a visit in hell that she’s given a second chance at life and vengeance

A/N: This is my first michael fic so enjoy my shitty excuse for writing I’ve been think about writing this for awhile so I really you like it. Whoever you may be [this blog is a ghost town]. Also there may be some typos because it’s late and a bitch is lazy. xoxo, go piss girl

Darkness.

That's all you saw as your limp body dragged across what felt like wood. You cried out, hoping someone would have the heart to help you. Instead, they laughed at your naiveness. Before you could think any longer, a voice interrupted your thoughts. "This is y/n she has devoted her entire life to being a good little christian. Pathetic." The woman spoke with hatred in her voice as you heard others make noises of disapproval and disdain. Your breath was shaking, you knew there was little hope for you, they didn't care about you or your life, and why should they? After all, you were just a shy little girl whose own family sent her away to a convent to get rid of her.

The skin on your body crawled as you felt the burning stares of everyone gawking at your practically naked form. The woman continued to go on about how silly you were for choosing to believe in a god who couldn't even protect you now, her voice overlapping with your screams and pleas. "Well, let's not waste any more time. The honor of tonight's sacrifice shall go to one of our newest members, Jim." If you were uncertain of your fate before, this solidified it. Tonight was the night you were doing to die.

You pleaded for your life though it was ineffective, your body tensed as you felt a hand across your face remove a few stray hairs. Before you knew it, the blade held along your neck glided with ease, your eyes began to tear as you took what would be your last few breaths. There, on the floor, your once pure body laid lifeless, upper half drenched in your blood.

Eventually, the group of heinous worshippers dispersed, some going off to eat, others making their way home. All of them seemingly unbothered by the presence of your corpse. Having your body on display for everyone to see was truly humiliating. You were to be gawked at, mocked, and then forgotten. The story of your life, no one had ever taken you seriously. Your mother hated you the moment she birthed you. Your father never stayed long enough for you to remember him. With all the time you had spent laying there, your body began releasing a foul odor, making it clear that you had to go.

The blue-eyed boy towered over your figure, his head turning slightly to face the much shorter woman with hair like that of a raven. "What would you like me to do with her, Michael?" The woman named Ms.Mead asked with a calmness to her voice, almost as if she did this often. Michael sighed, letting his shoulders fall slightly. "It's such a shame she would've made a great pet." He paused, taking a breath. "Bury her or throw her in the river for all I care, whichever is easiest." He said sternly as the woman nodded, the blonde turned on his heels to exit the once full room. 

-----

You woke up from felt like an eternal sleep. Rubbing your eyes to look around the room, it all felt familiar. The soft lilac walls and crisply made bed, this was your home. Albeit one you hadn't seen in a long time. It had been almost seven years since your mother dropped you off at a convent. You observed the room with confusion, wondering why you were here.

Suddenly the door opened, revealing your strung-out mother. Your head tilted in confusion. "M-mom?" You reached to touch her, but out of nowhere, she raised the back of her hand to strike you across the face. You brought your hand to your cheek, eyes welling up with tears until suddenly she froze. 

Everything was happening so suddenly that you cowered in fear as another woman entered the room, dressed in white, she flashed you a smile. The girl reached to hold your hand, but you immediately flinched. "Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you." She said, her voice soft and calming. You rubbed the tears away from your eyes and took hold of her warm hand. "Who are you. W-where am I?" The girl helped you to your feet. "My name is Mallory, right now you're in hell. But I'm here to take you back t-" Before she could finish, a dark figure walked in. "Ah, ah, ah. You don't get to break satans rules, my love."  The man appeared with strawberry blonde hair and green eyes.

"Asclepius, this isn't any of your concern," Mallory said, letting go of my hand as she inched closer to the man. "It is actually, I too have been tasked with bringing Y/N back to the mortal realm." You watched as the two bickered as if you weren't in their presence, tired of sitting around like a church mouse, you decided to speak up. "Okay, what the fuck are you talking about?!" The two turned to look at you, almost shocked that you had interrupted them. Asclepius sighed before stepping closer to you. "This might seem hard for you to comprehend, but you're dead. Your purity made you a viable sacrifice for satan." He paused for a moment, reading the confusion on your face. "This place is hell."

You scoffed, finding his comment ridiculous. That was until you remembered the darkness, the voice of that wretched woman, and the coldness of the knife. "Holy shit." You said, your head falling as you realize your predicament. "So, what do you two want from me?" Mallory turned on her heels. "Well, I was sent to retrieve your soul and bring it back to your mortal body until he showed up." Asclepius rolled his eyes at the brunette, annoyed by her response. "My boss, satan, has been displeased with his son's work. He thinks you'd be a fine companion, someone to give him a push to bring about the end times."

All of this sounded insane. It was simply too much to process. Mallory could sense the fear coming off of you. "Good thing is that won't happen, so long as I have a say in it." She reached to hold your face as a form of comfort. But before you could react,  her body fell limp as the red-haired man retrieved his arm from her back, her heart in his hand as you shrieked in terror. "Shhh Y/N, there is no need to fear me, soon you'll be back to normal soon." His voice overlapped with the hissing of snakes as they slithered towards you.

There was no place to run, so instead you back into one of the four corners of the room, even then, you knew it was useless. Pain pierced through your skin as the vipers sank their teeth into your skin, venom mixing with your blood. You tried to scream, but nothing left your throat, your mind slowly fading in and out of consciousness. The man gave you a half-hearted smile. "Send Michael my regards." And with that, your world faded to black once again.

-----

The skin on your body began to prune, given the countless days you had spent floating in the river. Suddenly your heart began to beat as blood rushed through your veins, your eyes opened, the water starting to irritate them. You mustered up what little strength you had left and made your way to the surface, gasping for air.

Swimming was never your strong suit, but you noticed that there was land nearby, so used your bit of energy to make sure you got there. Once you reached the dry land, your body fell, your back making contact with the soil. You wanted nothing more than to sleep. But something caught your attention, a scent. One you weren't all that accustomed to, you felt something within, almost as if your body was fighting itself.

Your body acted against you as you stood, drawing closer to the smell. As you crept, the voices become much more vivid. One, in particular, was much too familiar. "This sacrifice is much more special than anyone we've done before." You thought for a moment, and your mind brought you back to the night you lost your life, your cries and pleas ignored just like the unlucky girl they had chosen tonight. 

You yearned to do something, but you were no match for them. That was until you watched as your skin went pale, bits of it turned to scales. Part of you was horrified, but part of you relished in this new power. Before you made a move, you heard a much deeper voice speak. "I sense something, someone, a  powerful presence." Suddenly your body was completely taken over. Your once [y/e/c] eyes had now turned to a crimson red. Without thought, you suddenly appeared behind one of the cloaked figures, something you weren't aware you could do till now.

All the rage and bloodlust inside of you reached a boil. As your arm plunged into the woman's chest, you retrieved your hand to find her heart in it, and with no hesitation, you took a bite. The look of shock on everyone's face was pure bliss. You stood, wearing nothing but the underwear you had on the night of your death, covered in blood. Many of the cult members attempted to stop you, but it proved useless as you swiftly discarded them.

The few worshippers that remained had fled, hoping to keep their lives. All that was left were the corpses and Michael, along with Ms. Mead. The blonde boy gave a look of astonishment. Before anyone could break the silence, your skin reverted back to its previous form, the red in your eyes fading as your body fell to the ground. Michael approached you, kneeling to be closer to your face, cupping your chin, now drenched in blood. 

"Magnificent, my father must have sent you." His face formed a wicked smile. You were far too weak to respond and watched as he removed his cloak and placed it over your cold body. With that, he scooped you into his arms, continuing to burn into you with his gaze.

His voice was smooth and mellow as he whispered into your ear. "Let's get you home." You shook your head in disapproval and tried to push yourself off of him, but there was no point. It was clear who had the upper hand. Slowly your consciousness began to fade once again. It was clear how exhausted you were, and eventually, you drifted into a slumber. Your fate left in the hands of a man who watched you die.

----

okay wow can’t believe i actually finished a fic for the first time, this feels great! I hope you enjoyed, let me know if you wanna be tag okay toodles!

[di-kut]

Morning

Pero Tovar x Reader 

A/N: I am again writing Tovar to avoid writing other things. Set in the same world as this, a small (meant to be) oneshot I wrote on my main blog, but much earlier in time. Reader and Tovar wake up after their second night together. They talk. Things are weird. I don’t really know what this is except I wanted more so here it is. This is very short and unedited. You don’t have to read the other post to read this one. 

The sound of someone moving about the kitchen wakes you. It’s a slow, syrupy sort of wakening. Your eyelids and limbs feel thick and heavy. The blankets are pushed back to your waist. Dust mites float gently through the stream of late morning light in the window. Piece by piece the cottage comes into being. The boots in the corner. The clucking of the hens. More of a scrabbling. You blink slowly. The kitchen has gone quiet again.

The night before settles in your mind. You push yourself upright, throw off the covers. Turn your head to the boots again and the heavy leather cuirass. Had thought they were your husband’s, still half asleep. Realise now how they could not possibly have been. Your legs shake when you touch your feet to the ground. Makes you flush, from your hairline to your breasts. The bruises are constellations on your thighs and your stomach. Around your nipples. The shape of his mouth. The soldier. Tovar. You hear things being shifted in the kitchen again. Hear the hens, the scratching, still stuck in their pen. The sun is climbing well above the trees, the sky a bright, brilliant blue. You have not slept so late in months.

You dress with shaking hands. Your head feels full of wool and your mouth dry. You did not drink ale. Had never drunk ale. Until last night. Until the soldier you had only met once, and now bedded twice, had bought it to you. From England, he’d said. Your hair is so tangled you give up braiding it, listen to the sounds of the stranger digging through your things. Through your life. Think of the meagre purse of coin in the drawer with the cutlery. Your dress is the same one you had worn yesterday. Cotton. Used to be a pretty blue, one of your favourites, now threadbare and faded. Piled under the arms and around the neck. You wrap the woollen shawl over it, high around your neck despite the warmth. A necessary protection. Make your way to the kitchen.

He is sitting at your table. Elbows crowded around his plate, legs splayed beneath. Wearing his trousers and his undershirt, but not his armour. His dark eyes find you immediately, knowing and unreadable. His scar pulls at his left eye as he eats, rips the bread with thick fingers and shoves it into his mouth. Smiles when he sees you. It isn’t a particularly nice smile – certainly not friendly. A secret smile, a knowing one. One that makes you flush pink all over again. You lean in the small doorway, unsure. Feel displaced in your own house, feel like he seems more at home here than you do. And maybe it’s true. You certainly haven’t felt as if you belonged in the cottage in months. You envy him. At ease in a place he does not know. Think it must be his life to live like that, from place to place. Feel suddenly very small and very childish in your small corner of the world.

“Sit,” he says to you.

You hesitate. Lean back slightly into the small bedroom and then step out. The floor is stone in the main part of the house, and cool even in the warm summer. Makes you curl your toes as you walk and settle into the stool across from him. Wince when you sit too hard.

He does not miss it. His smile grows, from secretive to smug. “Be careful, yes?” He doesn’t expect an answer, but you nod anyway. “Here, eat.”

You take the large piece of bread he rips off for you gingerly. Hold it over the table in front of you and watch him. He bites into his. He is not gentle, or well mannered. Crumbs fall all around him. Your eyes drop to his mouth, the same mouth which had last night been between your legs. Had called you beautiful. He chuckles. It draws your gaze back up. You go red again and bite into the bread, look away from him completely.

“You are shy. You look at me. You did more than look last night.” You can’t meet his eyes. Stare at a knot in the wood of the tabletop. He laughs again. “Very shy. Your husband does not do such things?”

“I – No.” You swallow. “My husband did not… He never…”

Tovar pushes the rest of the bread towards you. “You must ask him to do this. It makes it much more enjoyable for you, yes?” You are glad he does not expect an answer, this time, because you can make none. You are so flushed it makes you almost dizzy. “Best not to say to him where you get this idea from. He may not like that.”

“My husband is dead.” You say. Still staring at the knot in the wood. “He died when the attacks came from the east. Last summer.”

Tovar is quiet. You risk a glance. He is watching you still, but the smile is gone. He looks almost – pensive. Like he is lingering between two thoughts. He does not say sorry. He does not offer you any condolences. And it makes you guilty, but you are glad. Do not wish to hear anymore pity or second-hand sadness. He just watches you with his dark eyes. You take another small bite from the bread he’d given you. The bread he had brought with him from the inn in town when he’d followed you in the dusk back to your cottage. The bread you had watched him take from the bag of another man, a traveller with a velvet doublet and silk undershirt. It is very good bread. Filled with dried fruits and nuts. You push yourself up carefully and cross to the small chest of drawers. Pull the top drawer open and pretend to search for a knife. Stick your hand in far enough to pick up the purse which is still there and test its weight in your palm. Return it and pull out a long, serrated knife for the bread. Sit back at the table across from him.

He grins at you. “I did not steal your coin.”

You slice a piece and nibble at the side of it. Disappointed. Thought you had been more subtle than that. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You do. And you are wise to check this.”

You say nothing to him. Continue to eat until you cannot anymore, and you push the last of it back to the middle of the table. Tovar takes it without another word and wraps it again in the wax paper it had been stolen in. Places it on the wide bench at the side of the room. Picks up one of the rags slung over the edge of the beam beneath it and wipes the crumbs onto the floor, nudges your arms off the surface of the table so he can wipe it over. You watch him, surprised. Had not expected him to show such care.

You need to let the hens out. To check the gardens. You had planted a bed too early in the winter and it had failed, and the rest you had planted too late. Had let the winter vegetables sit for too long before harvesting them. Had not turned the soil in preparation for summer. And now you were behind. You had not grown up on a farming property, and what you had learned from your husband you had never expected to have to do alone. Had expected to be able to afford to keep on your manservant. Had expected children. Had expected him to live longer. You rub at your brow and move into the bedroom to ready yourself. Don’t know how to ask Tovar to leave. Not sure you trust him in the cottage alone.

Tovar joins you while you dress, does not comment when you turn your back to him, pulling on your apron and attempting to tame your hair into a braid. Have to comb it for some time. He watches you openly. Pulls on his boots while you struggle with the knots. Watches your hands while you braid. Stares at the bruises trailing the length of your neck and jaw, phantom touches left behind, a trail from your ear to your nipple, disappearing beneath your dress. Does not seem to care that this embarrasses you. If anything he seems to enjoy it more because you squirm under his heavy gaze.

“I am going. I must go back to the camp.”

You nod without looking to him. Concentrate on tying the scarf around your hair.

“You will be sore today,” he says. As if this means nothing. As if he is simply observing something. And he is, you suppose. But it makes your stomach twist up and your thighs ache at the memory of him between them the night before. “You should not work too hard.”

The question tumbles out before you can stop it. Before you have even registered the thought. Not jealous. Not exactly. Curious. Scared. This is a world you have never known before this man, this soldier. A world you did not explore even with your husband. Are not allowed to talk about.

“Is that normal?” You frown.

“Hurting? Some types of hurting, these are good. Should not be a bad hurting.”

“No, I – ” You pick at your nailbed. “Not hurting. When, when you, with your mouth. You have done that before? With others?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

And the whole things makes you feel childish again. Silly and small. He is surprisingly kind. His is not laughing at you any longer. “This thing. Knowing these things. This is easier for men, because we are not blamed to seek these flesh comforts. But you should not feel bad for learning them. If they make you feel good.” He shrugs. “This way you can find many more things you like which will make you feel good.”

“There are more ways?”

He does laugh at this. “Many ways.”

“My husband, he never…” You cut yourself off. Horrified you would bring him up with this man, like this. Different to explaining his absence. Comparing them. You clamp your mouth shut. Tovar crosses to you and lays a hot, large hand over your shoulder. “How long are you staying in town?”

“I do not know. A week, maybe. And then we will go east again. This is how my life is.”

He sounds pleased with this. You do not ask him if you will see him again. He pulls his armour over his head and straps it around his torso. Collects his sword from where it leans. You walk him through the kitchen and into the stable, a wooden shack built against the stone wall of the cottage. His horse is mottled white and brown. Makes your mule skittish. You stay with him until he leads the mare out through your yard and into the fields surrounding. Far enough out of town that there are no people to watch him go. Close enough that you can hear the distant clamour of the regiment of army overflowing the village. You close the gate between you.

“Do you worry you will die?” You ask as he swings onto his mount.

“We will all die.” He says simply. “This is why we do the things which bring us pleasure.”

[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

Could you please write “‘i didn’t want to tell my friend who my real date last night was so i just pointed at a random stranger (you) but now they’re storming over to interrogate you and you’re playing along??? okay’ au”. Jurdan?

Sorry for the late, hope you'll like it!

chapter - two | beautiful disaster

Full Masterlist

Beautiful Disaster Masterlist

════════⚠════════

I've been in the club for a half hour now and I already wish I wasn't here.

Vivienne ditched me in favour of dancing two minutes after we arrived; funny how she is the one who insisted we need more 'sister time.'

"I'm bored," I complain when she gets off the dance floor. "I wish you'd let me leave—it's not like I'm having fun."

Taryn is beside her, looking a little too drunk herself. She clings to Vivienne like a timid child to her mother, eyes wide as saucers and an awestruck expression on her face—I don't know what she's pleased about. She stumbles towards the bar, ordering more drinks. Vivienne turns to me, expression purposeful and determined.

She says, "We barely see you! You're always out—even dad doesn't know where you are." Her words sound like a lament, though I'm almost sure she doesn't notice my absence often and if she does, it doesn't bothers her enough to enquire after me when we're both sober, apparently.

"I know where she is all the time," Taryn tells the two of them, a giggle escaping her lips. "I know your secret, Jude."

I stiffen, but manage to keep my face nonchalant and voice amused, unaffected. "You do now, do you?" It's almost to easy to lie now, to speak half truths, to be deceitful and clever and guarded all the time. It should bother me but it doesn't. I'm too scared she knows I'm working for Dain, too scared Madoc could find out and gods know what he'll do when he does.

Taryn nods. "I saw you sneaking out of the house at nights!" Then, she giggles, "I know you have a secret lover."

I relax, tension released from my muscles when the words settle in. She thinks I have a secret lover, which isn't that far off but my real secret is safe. A blush creeps onto my cheeks as I think of Dain, my apparent secret lover and boss. I can never tell when we went from thinking of each other as best friends to lovers but he's one of the very few people I almost trust.

"You have to tell us who it is, Jude," Vivi says, clapping in excitement. She's ridiculous. "Oriana will be so happy!"

I stare in horror. I don't like where this is going. I can't tell them who I'm sneaking off with but I can't deny their suspicions lest they follow me out on my nightly escapades someday.

The two of them cheer loudly, drawing some attention and shouting 'Tell us!' in chorus when I see him.

"Cardan," his name escapes my lips in surprise, quieting the loud pair. Then I realise what it sounded like, and I rush to correct them but it's too late. Neither of them wants to hear much now.

"Ohmygod, Cardan Greenbriar?!"

"I suppose they have the whole enemies to lovers thing going from them," Vivi tells my twin sister.

"He's so cute."

"I don't even—" Jude is cut off by Vivienne's answering squeal.

"Think of all the double dates—" everyone is looking over at us, "and Madoc will be furious, that's a plus."

Taryn hums her agreement. "That's why Jude can't tell Madoc, isn't it? But Jude, we'd never tell him—" and her words are cut off with a sharp gasp when their eyes land on the entrance, and they notice him leaning against the wall.

His eyes are fixed elsewhere, but then they sweep around the whole room and land on me. Faintly, I can hear my sister's teasing comments but it sounds so far away, and he seems like he is too close for comfort. I wonder how he can do that—make me feel like the world is collapsing around me with all but one look; how he can intimidate me without ever coming close.

"Aw, they're making fuck me eyes at each other," one of my sisters coo.

Entirely too fast, he's gone from my sight and I come back to reality. I drown out all comments about him, giving vague, evasive answers to each question. It feels like he's still looking at me with that impenetrable gaze, though he's nowhere to be seen.

I fetch us some drinks, and soon find other topics to converse about. I'm hoping they've forgotten our conversation, when I stumble upon a sight that makes my heart stop dead inside my chest. He's standing there with a drink in his hand, and from the opposite side of the dance floor, my sisters make their way towards him.

I run towards him, pushing through the crowd. I stumble, almost falling into him and he rolls his eyes. "Falling again, Jude? This is the second—"

I hold up a hand. "Shh, you have to leave—my sisters think we're—" but before I can make my request of Cardan Greenbriar, my sisters have arrive. I can't let them know I lied—they'd wonder what I'm hiding from them and it won't end well. I have too many secrets to protect.

"Cardan Greenbriar," Taryn breathes out. She sounds a little starstruck.

Cardan narrows his eyes at the newcomers, an amused expression on his face. In front of his graceful manner and controlled movements, everyone else looks like a fish flailing in the air. He doesn't have that cruel gleam on his face, but I stay on my guard. Whatever my grievances with my sisters, I can't help being protective of them.

He says, "You didn't tell me you had such a pretty sister, Jude."

Taryn flushes at the compliment, and I wonder what he's playing at—or if, perhaps, this is another attempt to rile me. "We're twins," I mutter under my breath, though it comes out louder than intended and he hears me.

"Of course you'd find Taryn pretty—she looks like Jude, after all." Vivienne smirks, "You don't need to pretend. Jude told us everything."

"She did?" He can't hide the confusion from his face, but it's gone in a minute.

"Yes! I'm glad you're dating Jude. Just know if you hurt her, well, she'll hurt you back worse so..." she trails off with a sweet smile. I didn't know when my eldest sister got so scary, but she looks positively terrifying now.

"Dating? Jude?" Cardan quirks an eyebrow at me. "Yes, I'm, uh, doing that. Am I not, sweet Jude? I'd never hurt her, not unless she asks me to," he grins at his innuendo, sending my sisters cackling too. I can't bring myself to share their amusement, too busy wondering what he's playing at.

"Aw, he's blushing!" Taryn coos at him, words near slurred. "When did this happen? Why didn't we know? Ooh, Jude, how long have you been fucking? Wait, have you even had sex—" Vivienne interrupts my twin's barrage of questions with an apologetic smile and a quick 'you both should make a date night out of this' leaving me alone with my worst nemesis.

The moment my sisters are out of sight, he cocks his head to the side. "Jude. Am I supposed to know what that was about or will you explain?" There's no sneer in his voice, just curiosity with a touch of amusement.

"A misunderstanding," I clear my throat. "They wanted to know, uhh, who I'm dating, and I looked here and they assumed it was you."

His lips twitch upwards, as if he's entertained by my reply. I bristle at the mocking look, but I know my anger will only provide him satisfaction. His lips are curled in a small smirk, and he has never looked more beautiful. There's an air of confidence around him, a careless, unassuming grace in his movements that makes him look so intimidating and yet, so appealing all the same. The top two buttons on his black shirt have been left open, and reveal more of the serpent tattoo around his collarbone. I have the strangest itch to trace it with my fingers but I dismiss it as curiosity.

He turns on his heel without another word, then looks back. He frowns, "Are you not following me?"

"Should I be?" I don't recall him asking me to go somewhere with him.

Cardan makes an 'isn't that obvious' face, and I give him an impatient look in return. He tells me, "I was about to get another drink, but apparently, we have to get drinks, have a date and whatnot now. I do loathe the idea of making someone unhappy."

"And if this makes me unhappy?" I ask, even as I walk beside him to the bar.

Almost absentmindedly, as if I'm daft and it's the simplest answer in the world, he gives me a blank look. "You're Jude. No one can make you unhappy." He orders drinks for the two of us, and it occurs to me that I'm talking to him, and it's not a part of my plan.

But maybe this coincidence might help me earn his trust. He's never so affable as he is when he's drunk.

We talk, if you could call it that. Mostly, it's just us remaining in a silence that feels too loud, each of us too aware of the other's presence and Cardan's occassional remarks laced with dry humor. And if upon hearing one of those sharp remarks, I let a loud laugh escape my mouth, or if I look rather flushed, I blame it on the alcohol I consume. It isn't until Vivienne informs me Madoc is home and he's asking for me that I remember all the ways this mission can go wrong if I'm not careful about it.

We're in the cab, and I'm almost dazed as I recall every remark Cardan made. "He's quite the catch," Vivienne must have seen the confusion on my face because she adds: "Cardan, I mean. I quite like him."

I make a face at her. "He's a disaster."

"A beautiful disaster," she corrects me with a suggestive look. I don't bother arguing with her this time.

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tags:

@courtofjurdan // @thesirenwashere // @nightbringer // @queenofgreenbriar // @jurdanhell // @sweetlyvillainous //@clockworkgraystairs // @blog-lady-vi // @the-dark-swan //@storiesandschemes // @fangirltrash74 // @augustintodarkness // @queen-of-glass // @jurdan7 // @aesthetics-11 // @mijaldraws // @hades-flame // @sensitivehighlord // @annejulianneh111 // @b00kworm // @mysweetvillain // @doingmyrainbow // @curlyredqueen06 // @chaotic-fae-queen // @thewickedkings // @thesurielships //@df3ndyr // @clouds-and-peonies // @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln // @thefolkofthefic // @st00pid231 // @iminsanenotobsessed // @abookishfreak // @maddymelv // @iammissstark

[imacrowcawcaw]

A Lover With A Red Hot Thong -- Duzzy -- Ch. 1

Author (as known on various sites): luluthechoosingcrow - AO3, theladylovingcrow - Wattpad and Deviantart, lady lover - Rockfic, @insannywestan - Sanny shipping blog, @gretavanfleetconfessions

Fandom: Guns n Roses

Pairings: Duff McKagan/Izzy Stradlin (Duzzy)

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, like extreme fluff, attempted humor, airports, Duff has anxiety, Izzy is really good at comforting him, cuddling, sharing a bed, romance, dates, friends to lovers, adorable giggly boys, kissing

Summary: Duff dressed like a stripper from Arkansas that had discovered the Sex Pistols last week, drank more vodka in a month than most people did in a year, baked amazing blackberry streudals, sang Prince in the shower, and made out with his friends when he was lonely. Izzy was pretty sure that he was in love with him. Something certainly comes out of it when they end up spending a rather romantic week (totally not a honeymoon) in New Orleans because somebody (the very Duff of his longings) always loses their passport.

Taglist: @brianmaysclog @love-n-my-heart-4-n-army-apart @1800endmeplease @tymeconsuming @satans-helper @ageofkiszka @karrotkate @therealswanqueen @mountainofthesunn @onlyan-angel @lantern-inthenight @love-philautia @ubernoxa @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies (reminder that I just remade my taglist and organized it as best as I could, but if you either don’t want to be tagged in something (like GNR) or want to be added, just let me know!)

Author's Notes (aka disclaimers): 

1 - Don't own the people or places 

2 - It's a combination of real and made up (to my knowledge) places for this story. Don't use this as a fucking tour guide, I've never been to New Orleans and I don't have memories of anywhere east of Lake Tahoe

3 - The timeline of this is also completely made up. I like to bend reality to my will because I am a lazy writer

4 - I tried my hand at writing a character with anxiety. I'm trying my best with the info online and my own experiences, but please let me know if something is wildly inaccurate and detracts from the story 

5 - I mean no disrespect to the band. I try my best to be a humorous writer, and I think that I have a pretty healthy view of them, seeing both the good and poking fun at the bad. Some of this might come off as mean, but I’m not really trying to be. I just want people to laugh

6 - Trying that thing where I port my WIPs to get motivated. We’ll see if this works!

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Monday, September 15, 6:46 AM, New Orleans Louis Armstrong National Airport 

"Duff, what exactly do you mean you don't have your passport?" Axl spit, breathing hard in an effort to diffuse combustion. He was not exactly the happiest camper this early in the morning, especially when some people's forgetfulness interrupted the sleep he had planned on getting as soon as they boarded the plane.

The man being questioned gazed at Axl nervously through wide, panicked eyes. 

"I don't know, man! Er- I mean, yeah I don't have it... I'm pretty sure the last time I saw it was at the hotel when we checked in. I'm sorry! We just got up so early and it was still dark and I kind of have a hangover from last night so I just shoved my stuff in my bag and went downstairs so we wouldn't be late, but now we're going to be late shit I'm sorry I don't-" 

"Hey, hey. Duff, it's okay, just breathe," Izzy soothed, speaking his first words of the day besides a 'fuck off' to Steven, who'd been tasked with waking him up. He settled a coffee-cup-warm, pale hand on Duff's shoulder and turned to speak to Axl.

"It's fine, Bill, we'll figure it out. None of us function well in the morning, do you have your snakeskin belt, hmm?" He asked, knowing that the beloved item was still hanging from a lamp in the hotel room they had checked out of at 4 AM.

Axl's mouth shut with a clack as he glared at Izzy and his damned know it all face. He huffed out a breath and made a big show of rolling his eyes and changing his expression to one of fond exasperation.

"Fine, then, you can figure it out. Don't expect any help from us, though!" 

Izzy snorted at his friend's drama and his statement; Steven was currently trying to convince an off duty captain to let him fly his plane, Axl was Axl, and Slash was still dead to the world behind his hair -- very helpful.

"Okay, well, we'll meet you there as soon as we can. Enjoy your flight, don't become members of the mile high club without us," Izzy replied, pulling Duff up and swinging his backpack over his shoulder.

They walked away, arms brushing with every step, to the sound of Axl screaming at them to bring back his belt, and the disgruntled looks of other early morning airport commuters whom they ignored. Izzy followed the overhead signs back to a check in desk with Duff in tow, hoping that everything would work out and that they could be in Amsterdam with the rest of the guys by nightfall.

No such luck, of course.

"I'm sorry," the lady said with a completely uncaring smile, "but the next flight to Amsterdam, commercial or private, isn't until next tuesday. I can book two tickets for you, Mr. Stradlin, but there's nothing more I can do." 

Izzy sighed, but nodded. He sorted through bills in his wallet, mocking the lady in his head all the while. 'I'm sorry, but your daughter is going to die from a wrench to the eye socket. I can give you a bandaid, but there's nothing more I can do.'

Duff, though, having woken up on the walk over, was looking closer to an anxiety attack than the mild annoyance Izzy was feeling. 

He quickly excused them and grabbed Duff's wrist, pulling him a few feet away for the false illusion of privacy to calm him down.

"Shh, shh, take a deep breath," Izzy whispered, hands gripping Duff's shoulders to force them to look straight in each other's eyes. "Everything will be alright. We'll find your passport, hang out in the city for a while, then go meet up with the guys. Easy, no problems. Relax babe, just try to relax and breathe."

Duff tried to steady his breathing as he clung to Izzy, pulling the man into a hug. He wasn't sure what he would do if Iz wasn't here -- his friend was usually the only one who could stop his incoming anxiety like that.

They stood there for several minutes; Duff regaining a normal breathing pattern, and Izzy slowly rubbing his back. As they pulled away from each other, Duff spotted a hippo in Mardi Gras attire glaring at them in disgust. He smirked rather weakly, still a bit shaken and queasy from his panic but back on the track to his usual self.

"Hey, Iz, it looks like we have an audience, and he's not very pleased."

Izzy grinned back at him, relieved that the Duff he knew was still kicking. Besides, this was their favorite game. 

Every once in a while, the boys were subjected to odd stares and the occasional slur. Usually, it was just for dressing like Dolly Parton while shoplifting, but occasionally, it was because they got pretty close. Sometimes they were drunk, sometimes they were just talking to each other or hugging, sometimes because they were blatantly trying to piss off as many people as possible (sometimes the "people" included Axl).

Izzy moved his hands from Duff's shoulder blades, one wrapping tight around his waist and the other getting a firm grip on his delectable ass. 

Duff snorted and cupped Izzy's face in his large hands, angling him upwards slightly so that they could lean their foreheads together. He bit his lip to stop from giggling, and Izzy brushed his own mouth against him for a split second, getting a quick hint of teeth and coffee-breathe.

Out of the corner of his eye, Izzy saw the man visibly shudder, his beady eyes grimacing. 

A fake blond, middle aged woman Izzy assumed was his wife laid one hand on his polo shirt, as if in an effort to calm him down. It had the opposite effect. The man grunted and skewered his mouth to the side, squinting even more as if a giant rainbow spotlight was being blasted into his eyes.

Izzy smirked, though it was barely noticeable against Duff's mouth. 

Duff murmured something about 'making a scene', but Izzy knew he was referring to their audience and not themselves. Neither of them cared who saw this, though if it was printed in any magazines Axl might try to suplex them out of a window. "Try" being the key word -- the little red terror was too chicken to actually try that with Izzy, and too short to get enough leverage on Duff. 

Somewhere behind him, Izzy heard the woman whine, "Oh, Charles!" like she was getting the worst rimjob of her life. 

"It's disgusting, Carol! I won't stand for it!" 

"Time to get going?" Duff whispered, pulling back an inch.

Izzy gave him one last searing kiss and an extra probing squeeze to the ass then nodded, breaking away. They quickly picked up their suitcases and high tailed it out of the building, leaving dust, stares, and a purple and green, mouth breathing, homophobic fatman in their wake. 

Duff laughed as they came to a stop in the middle of a group of Japanese tourists. They all turned to look at him as he barked, panted, barked, and then wheezed with his hands on his knees.

Izzy was looking at Duff too, a rare - though not as much as some people would think - smile on his lips. He patted his friend on the back and pulled out a cigarette, then offered one to Duff. It would make the wheezing worse, but a smoker cares none about that. 

They lit up from Izzy's lighter as the tour grouped streamed past them, completely nonplussed at the disgruntled - or awed, recognizing - stares they received. Once they had the stretch of sidewalk to themselves, Duff stacked their suitcases one atop the other and sat down while Izzy hailed a cab. His long arms soon garnered them a ride and they hopped into the sedan after tossing their bags into the trunk. 

It was blue, with a peeling leather interior and a hand stenciled logo on either window; the usual black and white checkers ran a wobbly circle around the outside of the car. The driver glared at them from underneath bushy brows as they smoked their cigarettes, and Izzy smiled at him politely, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror, until he finished and put out his cig on the door's plastic. 

Duff's mind was in some far off place and he didn't notice any interactions taking place. Izzy wondered if he was thinking about how to find his passport, or what to do in the city, or about girls -- or, the bleach blonde head rolling onto his shoulder could have been asleep. The snores more or less confirmed it. 

"Where to?" The driver asked after a minute. 

“Marriott on Jackson,” Izzy answered, turning his torso minutely to get more comfortable.

Etta James’ smoky vocals floated out of the speakers, half of the tone quality getting lost in the maze of beads hanging down from the cab ceiling in a curtain between driver and passengers. Izzy sighed and shifted; the leather creaked; Duff snorted and drool ran down his arm. He smiled down at the man asleep on him and brushed some hair back from his sticky mouth, fingers slowly tracing Duff’s jawline. 

Michael Andrew Mckagan was a unique specimen, that was for sure. He was laid back and welcoming, yet had enough energy to rival Popcorn, at times. He was loving and affectionate to his friends, and scathingly rude to those that hurt them. Duff dressed like a stripper from Arkansas that had discovered the Sex Pistols last week, drank more vodka in a month than most people did in a year, baked amazing blackberry streudals, sang Prince in the shower, and made out with his friends when he was lonely. Izzy was pretty sure that he was in love with him.

The engine of the cab coughed, and suddenly the vehicle was rolling to a stop outside the hotel they had left only an hour or so ago. Izzy gently shook Duff awake and went to pay the man while Duff got their bags back out of the trunk. 

“That will be forty dollars,” the man said, staring Izzy down from beneath his fuzzy caterpillar. Interestingly enough, that was the only facial hair he had; perhaps he’d shaved off his mustache and glued it, hair by hair, onto his brow bone. 

“Really? It was half that to get to the airport two hours ago. What’s your game, man? You think you can scam us?”

Izzy didn’t like being scammed. It was damn near impossible to get one up on him - let alone very rare someone even dared to try - so this guy was about to get it if he thought he could. 

“You ruined my interior. Smells like smoke. I need to clean it now. I know you have the money,” the man glared, narrowing his eyes. The caterpillar hunched down too, like it was trying to curl up on itself to avoid getting eaten by a hawk-nosed Stradlin. 

“Is that so?” Izzy snorted, fishing out another cigarette just for the hell of watching the man get angrier. 

“Here, forty dollars. C’mon Iz, let’s go.”

Duff handed the man a fold of two twenties with a sigh, his other hand subtly resting on Izzy’s lower back for a moment before removing itself again. He wanted to fight it - there was no way that guy should be getting away with charging them double price, fuck that! - but Duff was tired and the money was already handed over. Izzy knew that physical signal from Dff, too, the hand on the back: it meant “leave it”. 

With a final huff and a not so subtle bird, Izzy grabbed his carpet bag from where Duff had lain it on the asphalt and followed his tall friend through the hotel’s front entrance, cigarette dangling from his mouth all the while. 

They made their way over to the front desk, explained the situation, and then they were back inside the mirrored elevator armed with the suite’s key card, going up like they had never left in the first place. 

“Hmm, wonder what it would be like to make love in this elevator?” Duff mused, staring upwards at his reflection in the ceiling. 

Issy followed the bold line of his profile, from Adam's apple to nose to messy hair, before he finally glanced at the ceiling, too. 

“Interesting, certainly. I’ve done it in front of a mirror, but not in a whole box of them.”

“Yeah. Hey, we should come back here and incorporate this into our next video!” Duff exclaimed, grinning at him. 

“Izzy snorted. “What, you wanna come back here a third time? This place got like a magical draw or some shit?”

They both cracked up.

[wordgirlappreciation]

Wordgirl Fanfic Recommendations Masterlist

Thanks for 250 followers, guys! I appreciate you all very much!

At long last, here it is! A full compilation of my personal favorite Wordgirl fics! All fics are complete and in English. Please don’t forget to reblog and review to support fanfiction writers!

Additionally, this blog will post and promote all fanfiction links submitted to it. 

Wordgirl & Doctor Two Brains 

Title: The Doctor Is In | Author: otempora16 | Words: 23k | Rated K+

Becky Botsford may be an alien, but she's never had any trouble living on Earth - until she's struck with a bizarre disease that no human doctor can cure. Only one person has studied Lexiconians enough to have any hope of saving her. Unfortunately, he's trapped deep within his own mind, under the control of a malevolent mouse...

This is the best Wordgirl fic I’ve ever read. It hits everything I wanted to see from this show--the bond between Wordgirl and Dr. Two Brains, Dr. Two Brains struggling against his own darkest impulses--coupled with fantastic writing and pacing. Everyone is in character while balancing a more sophisticated and darker tone. I’ve read this one at least five times. 

Title: Awake in the Night | Author: Laura Latts | Words: 10k | Rated: K+

Two-Brains is fighting with himself again. The results? He's losing. But how could Steven be coming back from the supposed dead? And how can Wordgirl help him win before the sun rises?

Absolutely heartbreaking fanfic centered around Wordgirl’s relationship with Steven as Dr. Two Brains attempts to stifle him. Steven can only take control at night, and attempts to build a machine to separate himself from Squeaky, only for Two Brains to wake up and stop him every time. It’s brilliantly written, very in-character, and it just might make you feel. 

Title: Much Abides | Author: otempora16 | Words: 3k | Rated K

Before she heads off to her first year of college, Wordgirl has a few loose ends to tie up. Oneshot. Sort-of sequel to "New and Subtle Shades."

Wordgirl’s last conversation with Two-Brains before leaving for college. Sweet and heartbreaking even if it could’ve gone a little deeper. Brief mentions of past Steven. As their last WG fic, it’s a nice send-off. 

Wordgirl/Tobey (or Tobecky)

Title: New and Subtle Shades | Author: otempora16 | Words: 6k | Rated K+

Growing up is hard, and growing up a superhero is harder. But amidst all the stress and struggle of her freshman year of high school, Wordgirl starts to realize that support, friendship, and fun can be found in the most unexpected of places. Oneshot, focusing on an older Wordgirl's relationships with her villains.

Once again, the otempora16′s dialogue is on point. This fic focuses on WG’s relationship with The Butcher, Leslie, Dr. Two Brains, Chuck, and finally Tobey. It’s incredibly sweet and charming, and shows Wordgirl and Tobey in the earliest stages of a relationship in an entirely believable way. Also featuring Dr. Two Brains as an overprotective father figure. 

Title: Green World | Author: otempora16 | Words: 3k | Rated K+

Becky Botsford's superhero duties have run her off her feet lately, and she knows she needs to crack down on schoolwork if she wants to finish junior year strong. But when warm summer breezes are blowing, the carnival is in town, and Tobey McCallister is standing outside her window ... well, some nights are just begging to be seized. 

A fun and delightful fic of Becky and Tobey having a good time. 

Title: From Good to Rotten | Author: Laura Latts | Words: 25k | Rated K+

After the amnesia ray, what if Two-Brains didn't forget everything? What if he was just waiting? Waiting for the perfect moment to get Wordgirl once and for all... 

Dr. Two Brains remembers Wordgirl’s secret identity from a previous episode where it was revealed, and uses a special ray to turn her evil and use her to do his bidding. Highly interesting, and written in the style of the show (with a narrator, defined words, and a similar style of humor). Features the rest of the villains saving Wordgirl from herself and Dr. Two Brains being a bit of a jerk.

Title: Something Hidden | Author: HibiscusAngel15 | Words: 137k | Rated K+

Tobey just can't shake the feeling that Becky is WordGirl, no matter how many times he's been wrong before. The only question is of how to prove it.

Nothing to add. Just a great fic. 

Title: Have You Seen My Robut? | Author: HibiscusAngel15 | Words: 3k | Rated K

Today was just not Tobey McCallister's day. After his latest robotic creation to help the city malfunctions and runs off on him, he's left with no choice but to work together with his nemesis WordGirl to find it. But how can the two even hope to work together, especially when she's a supervillain? An AU one-shot where Tobey and Becky's roles are reversed.

Interesting concept I’d love to see explored more. I’m always a sucker for Wordgirl as a villain, and Tobey as a hero was nice to see. Additionally, Wordgirl is the one with the crush on Tobey in this universe. I thought it stayed true to both characters and was well-written. 

Title: Saving Tobey | Author: Night_N_Gail | Words: 92k | Rated: Gen

“I’m telling you, WordGirl, that kid is a time bomb. You think he’s a menace NOW? Wait until he’s a teenager and his emotions are running wild. Wait until he’s an adult and he’s not afraid of his mother anymore. It won't be pretty, I can promise you that." -:- Post-series

Slowburn relationship with Tobey gradually going over to the good side. First part of a three part series by the same author. I have not read the sequels, so I can’t recommend them, but if you like “Saving Tobey” give them a try.

Dr. Two Brains/Lady Redundant Woman

Title: A Provocloniversary | Author: Unbalanced Enigma | Words: 3k | Rated: K+

A Dr. Two Brains and Lady Redundant Woman fluffy one-shot taking place at a villain convention. It works off the assumption that they've already been an item for awhile, six months to be precise. The doctor wants to celebrate the events, but awkward and silly interruptions ensue. This features a wide variety. Rated K for a little suggestive romancing.

This fic is really cute and well-written. The characterization is spot-on for everyone and has plenty of humor. I especially enjoyed Tobey getting back at Two-Brains for the events of Mousezilla. As someone who did ship Provoclone back in the day, this fic is a definite recommend. 

Dr. Two Brains, Squeaky, and Steven

Title: Descent Into Madness | Author: Laura Latts | Words: 1k | Rated: K+

No one really knew what happened. What he went through during the incident. What happened when Prof. Steven Boxleitner became Dr. Two-Brains?

An interesting exploration of the time between Steven’s “Oh no, this is going to sting” and him running into Becky and TJ. Short but dark and interesting.

Title: A Science Experiment Gone Horribly Wrong | Author: 3LNR | Words: 2k | Rated: K+

This fanfic is a detailed description of Steven's thoughts and feelings before, during, and after his fateful experiment. It includes Two Brains' and Squeaky's viewpoints as well. The day starts out very normally, but gradually becomes more creepy and intense as the story progresses. Rated K+ for somewhat disturbing but non-graphic content.

For a fic I wrote 6 years ago, I think it holds up pretty well. Give it a read if you’re a fan of Two Brains.

Title: When I Don’t Remember You | Author: 3LNR | Words: 3k | Rated K+

Dr. Two Brains goes on a mysterious trip to a place he had almost forgotten.

Another angsty fic I wrote six years ago, where Two Brains briefly reunites with Steven’s parents. It does not go well. Song title is inspired by the song of the same name from the series “Adventure Time”.

Title: Take Care of Them | Author: orphan_account | Words: 1k | Rated: Gen

After a stupid mistake, Two Brains and Steven have a heart to heart while Two Brains dies. (Squeaky dies too)

Sad fic in which Steven gets his freedom at the expense of Dr. Two Brains’ life. Short but memorable enough to earn a spot on the list.

Title: A Late Night Chat | Author: Donotquestionme | Words: 1-3k | Rated: Unknown

“Remember, whatever I say, don’t open this door until morning, got it?” The henchmen shuffled their feet anxiously. They never quite understood what went on behind that heavy, padlocked door, and they weren’t sure they wanted to. All they knew was that, every once in a while, their boss would lock himself in that room and, for the next few hours, muffled shouting could be heard coming from behind the door. Even stranger, sometimes they swore they could hear crying.

This might be the first WG fic I ever read, so it holds a special place in my heart. It was also written by someone with a fantastic ask blog that’s been on hiatus for years now (ask-dr-two-brains) who has a perfect grasp on the character. This fic is about the unanswerable question of whether Steven could bring himself to kill Two Brains if he had the chance to set himself free. I wish this person had written more, but it's fabulous nonetheless. 

[adenei]

Auror 99 - Chapter 3

A/N: Feels weird knowing I didn’t post anything yesterday (literally, nothing), BUT I’ve been doing a lot of writing. I was finally able to get chapter 3 onto paper! For those of you who dropped me some prompts, I’m not ignoring them, but do know it’s going to be a bit before I get back to those as I really want to see this story unfold first. Thanks for your understanding!

*************************

Chapter 3: Bonding

“So...do you mind if we take a look at the cases that are already outstanding on Gerteso?” Hermione asked Amy after she watched Ron leave with Jake. She was only slightly worried about him pairing up with Jake. He didn’t seem like the most...reliable of detectives on first glance.

“Oh, yes, of course!” Amy said as she pulled out a pile full of case files. She began going through each one, and Hermione was noticing a pattern.

“Gerteso doesn’t seem to hang on to each of these identities for very long. And he only stole a minimal amount from their bank accounts. Almost nothing to make it significant. Don’t typical identity theft cases open up multiple accounts and try to liquidate a person’s funds for their own gain?” Hermione asked Amy.

Amy pulled some of the files back and reviewed them. “Huh. You’re right. I’m not sure how we missed that before.” Amy looked a little more closely. “He even got a hold of their social security numbers, but never attempted anything with it. What do you think it could mean?”

Hermione furrowed her brow even more. “Is there any correlation between the victims?” She and Amy were reviewing the various cases. “The bank. It’s the same across all the cases!”

Amy grabbed some the files and cross referenced. “Ugh, this is the last time I trust Jake with the paperwork. How did he not catch this?! He really is normally better than this. Well, we’ve got a lead now! Charles, look.” Boyle came over when Amy called his name with Harry trailing behind him. 

“Whoa, Amy, Sterling National Bank? Do we know which one?” Boyles asked.

“It’s….the one two blocks from here!” Amy said looking at Boyle.

“Jason and I can go check it out. See if any of the tellers or the guards noticed anything off.”

“Great, Charlotte and I will comb through these to see if there’s any added correlation of when these took place,” Amy said, clearly throwing herself into work mode.

“Excellent! Jason, come with me,” Boyle said, grabbing his jacket. Harry looked at Hermione, making sure she was okay before following Boyle.

Amy and Hermione set to work, writing down the dates and ordering the case files by bank visit instead of the date they were filed with the precinct. “I can’t believe I didn’t think to do this to start with,” Amy said regretfully. “Captain Holt is going to be so upset with me. How could I let myself get so distracted lately?” She shook her head. 

“Um, is everything alright?” Hermione asked.

“What? Oh, yeah, it’s nothing. Just getting over a breakup that’s all.” Amy sighed.

“I’m sorry. Was it a bad one?” 

“No, no! It was actually needed. I just wasn’t into him at all..” Amy trailed off and glanced over at Jake’s empty desk. Hermione looked in the same direction to see what she was looking at. 

Maybe this is the perfect segue to ask about Jake; make sure Ron’s with a decent partner, she thought. “So, tell me about Jake,” Hermione said, trying to change the subject away from her breakup.

“Jake? What do you want to know?” Amy asked a bit skittishly. She contemplated Charlotte for a moment before making the connection. “If you’re worried about Nolan, don’t be. Jake has an unconventional way of doing a lot of things, but he really is a brilliant detective! You can trust him. Are you and Nolan primary partners on the force?”

“You could say that,” Hermione said. “I just wasn’t sure how serious he was. I tend to worry a bit too much about things, I guess.”

“Me too, but I wouldn’t worry about that,” Amy smiled genuinely at her. “Shall we compare dates, see if we find anything?”

“Sure,” Hermione said, thinking how she really liked her new temporary partner. 

*********************

Harry and Charles checked not only the closest Sterling National Bank to the precinct, but also the other two nearby, to no avail.

“I don’t get it!” Charles said with a disappointed look on his face. “Three banks, and nothing out of the ordinary was seen. Either Gerteso has several accomplices, or he’s incredibly good at disguises.”

That got Harry thinking: the likelihood of an invisibility cloak was slim, but disillusionment charms weren’t unheard of. It wouldn’t be the first time he and Ron had dealt with an elusive criminal because of them. But he couldn’t give that away yet to Boyle. “I doubt he’s got several accomplices. From what we’ve seen, he works alone. You might be onto the disguise thing, though,” Harry told him.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t bring us any closer to catching this guy. It’s like one step forward and two steps back the entire case!” Boyle sighed in frustration. He put the keys in the ignition and began heading back to the precinct. “Amy’s not going to be happy about another deadend. Hopefully Jake can get something., or Rosa on surveillance duty”

“Let’s hope,” Harry agreed.

“Tell me about Nolan,” Boyle changed the conversation abruptly.

“What about him?”  Harry asked, watching Boyle’s body language carefully. He seemed protective and...slightly jealous? 

“Well, we protect our own, not that you and Nolan and Charlotte aren’t welcome or anything. Jake’s my best friend. I would never let anything happen to him in the field, so I want to make sure Nolan will have his back like I would.” Boyle was definitely posturing, and that amused Harry, but also concerned him. 

Was he a bad friend for not worrying about Ron in the same way? He shook the thought from his head. No, he just knew his friendship with Ron was stable. Plus, he was a brilliant auror that could hold his own in any situation, so he told Boyle as much.

“Nolan’s a solid guy. You won’t find a better, er, detective. He’s my best mate. Been by my side since we were eleven, so he’s loyal to a fault. No need to worry with him.”

“Good...good.” Boyle said nodding as they pulled up to the precinct. 

Ironically, they pulled in at about the same time Jake and Ron had also returned.

“Jake!” Boyle said, “Any luck? We hit another dead end, but maybe Amy and Charlotte made another break in the case upstairs.”

“We’ve got something, that’s for sure,” Ron muttered as Jake had that giddy look about him.

“Uh, Jake? Buddy? Where’d you guys go, you’ve got that look about you when you...” Charles said and then gave Ron and Harry looks. “Who’d you guys see?”

“Charles, it’s fine! We went to see Doug Judy. Let’s go upstairs and we’ll discuss more,” Jake clarified.

Charles looked affronted. “Jake! I should have known! You’ve never been able to pull away from his charm.” 

**************

“Good, you’re all back,” Captain Holt said. He came out of his office as the elevator dinged, and Jake, Charles, Harry and Ron walked out. “Everyone in the briefing room for an update.”

Once they’d all filed in, Captain Holt started by asking Amy and Hermione to start. “Santiago?”

“Charlotte and I went over the case files of the identity thefts again, and Charlotte found a pattern in the thefts.” Amy looked at Hermione to continue.

“Yes, it appears that even though all aspects of each victim’s identity were stolen, the only thing that was done as a result was stealing a minimal amount out of their bank accounts. No new credit cards, no major purchases, nothing of the sort,” Hermione went on. 

“All of the stolen money has come from accounts at Sterling National Bank. We reordered the case files based on when the money was taken, and Boyle and Cooper went to investigate,” Amy finished.

“Yeah, but unfortunately we didn’t get any new information. None of the tellers or the guards noticed the same person coming in or out to line up with the thefts,” Boyle reported.

“We even checked the other two banks in the area with no luck,” Harry added.

Holt nodded. “Peralta, any news from your informant?”

“Yeah, he said Gertie’s got a few hideouts around Brooklyn, not that he knew where, but he’s definitely working alone. He said his main target is the Woolworth building in Manhattan, but didn’t know when or why.”

Holt nodded his head and pursed his lips. “Diaz? Anything from your angle?”

“Nothing on the surveillance videos today, but if his target’s in Manhattan, I’ll widen the search tomorrow to some of those hole in the wall shops.”

“Well, it’s more than we had this morning. You’re all dismissed for the night. See you in the morning,” Captain Holt said as he walked out.

“Does anyone else feel like we’re no closer than we were when we started?” Diaz asked, as everyone nodded.

As they filed out back to their desks to grab their things, Jake asked Nolan, “So about tonight. Still on for Die Hard?”

Charles heard and immediately chimed in before Ron could answer. “Did I hear Jake suggest a bonding night? I’d watch Die Hard!” he said eagerly.

Rosa sniggered, “Come on, Charles, really? You jealous of Nolan?”

“What? No, of course not, Rosa!” Charles said as Harry tried to stifle his own laugh. “I just thought this would be a fun way to get to know our new partners,” he forged on. “Order some New York pizza, pick up some beer and just hang out.”

Amy piped up, “Actually, Charles has a point. What do you say, Jake?”

“I mean, sure, as long as we get to still watch Die Hard. But my apartment isn’t big enough for all of us…”

“You could come to our place. The, er, NYPD put us up in a two bedroom flat a few blocks from here. We’ve got plenty of space,” Ron offered.

Harry and Hermione looked at him in surprise. Jake, Amy and Charles all nodded in agreement. They all looked at Rosa, who reluctantly agreed.

“How does seven sound?” Ron asked as he scribbled down the address for them.

“I’ll bring the beer,” said Jake. 

“And I’ll get the pizza,” Boyle added.

“Charles, don’t order any of that weird shit you write about on your blog,” Rosa pointed out. “Better yet, I’ll order it, you pick me up at 6:30, and we’ll go together.”

“You don’t trust me?” Boyle asked as Rosa gave him a ‘are you really surprised’ look. “Okay, fair enough.

“I’ll bring some wine and snacks,” Amy said. “See you all tonight!”

Chapter 4 can be found here :)

[royalcalum]

Anonymous asked: could you please write a part three because I love CEO luke AND  hey I know you’re like way busy but is it possible to have another part to CEo luke? you’re like majorly talented and I had to turn the notifications on for your blog BC I love itttt😇 AND Hi! Can you do a part 3 to CEO! Luke please? You are amazing thank you 😘 AND part 3 to the ceo! luke series please ? :) 🤯💖

Rating: Mature - don’t read it if you shouldn’t or I’ll tell your mom

Featuring: Luke + Reader

Warning: SMUT, slight angst

Author’s Note: STOP THE PRESSES CHANELLE IS POSTING A FUCKING FIC FOR THE FIRST TIME IN YEARS (I think it’s actually been almost four years if we don’t count the rewrite of a Dolan twins fic). Anyway... this is it for CEO!Luke. Here’s my sad attempt at trying to start writing fics again. You’ve literally been waiting years for this shit so I hope it’s worth it lmao

Part One

Part Two

The rest of the trip stayed fairly PG, just a couple PG-13 make-outs and the occasional R-rated touching. The sex stopped, though. I think Luke was scared of someone he could potentially work with catching on and dropping him. I’d like to say I’m the one who stopped it, but my internal conflicts couldn’t make me give him up. I knew what we were doing was wrong and could get either of us - most likely me - into a lot of trouble, but my mind was stuck between leaving him and risking my career. I couldn’t afford to lose my job over some guy. I needed to stop this train wreck.

This couldn’t end well.

Luke and I kept to ourselves during the plane ride back to New York. He was on his laptop looking at more graphs and data while I went through documents from the trip. It wasn’t until we landed that any interaction actually happened and by then, he knew something was up.

“Do you need a ride back to your place?” Luke asked, grabbing my bag for me. 

“I can just get a cab, it’s not a big deal,” I shrugged as I reached for my bag again. Before I could get a grip on the handle, Luke yanked it back and moved closer to me.

“Okay, what’s wrong? You’ve been acting different ever since the first night of the trip and I don’t want it to affect our work,” he said quietly.

It’s a little late for that. Our work relationship was already shot to hell, considering I couldn’t go a whole day without wondering whether or not I should ask for a… favor.

I sighed and stuck my hand out. “I can carry my own bag, Mr. Hemmings.”

“So now I’m Mr. Hemmings again?” he asked with a small pout. His eyebrows furrowed as his eyes explored my face, but he reluctantly handed my bag back. “At least let me give you a ride.”

“I can get a cab. I don’t want to bother y-”

“It’s not a bother, [Y/N]. Really,” he said sternly. His jaw was set and I knew I’d either have to let him give me a ride and deal with his interrogation now or find a way to avoid him at work later. As his assistant, that would literally be impossible.

The long drive to my apartment seemed to take even longer in the dead silence of the car. Luke would glance over at me every few minutes, but I refused to look back at him. If I let him in, it’d be even harder to push him back out.

The playful banter and late night story times and cuddle sessions over the length of the trip were not helping the crush I had developed on my emotionally unavailable boss, but this wasn’t something I could just let happen. People at work would find out, we’d get reported for breaking regulations, and I’d get fired. That was the only logical ending. It’s not like Luke would fall in love with me, especially not after just seven days of this charade.

We pulled up to my complex just as darkness started to settle over the city. I wasn’t necessarily in a dangerous neighborhood,  but it definitely wasn’t the safest either. Luke took it upon himself to play the hero and make sure I made it inside okay. 

“Luke, really, I’m fine carrying my own bag. It’s just the one,” I argued as he hoisted my bag out of the trunk.

“Just one that I can carry for you,” he countered.

I groaned and led the way up the stairs to my third floor apartment. When we got to my door, I unlocked it and stood in the doorway to block the way in and get my bag before Luke could find a way to get inside.

“Okay. I made it here safe and sound. I’ll take my bag now.” Luke clenched his jaw and set the bag at my feet, using the moment I bent over to grab it as an opportunity to push past me and get into my place. “Luke,” I grumbled. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to figure out what I did wrong!” he nearly shouted as the door fell closed behind me. “Last week and that first day of the trip, you were ready for anything. Then all of a sudden it went from amazing sex to touching to barely even kissing. What did I do?”

“You’re my boss, Luke. My boss! Whatever this is,” I said, gesturing between us, “it needs to stop. It’s unprofessional and it puts my future in this industry at risk.”

“You’re concerned about your job right now?” he asked skeptically. “[Y/N], I’m not going to revoke my reference for you just because we’re sleeping together and I sure as hell don’t plan on firing you.”

I rolled my eyes and let out an unamused laugh. “Right, because it’s not like you couldn’t find another assistant to fuck.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he said sternly. “Now I want an honest answer.” Luke stepped closer to me until my back was against the door and his face was inches from mine. “Why are you avoiding me?”

I took in a shaky breath, not wanting to back out last minute. Fuck, if he’d just take two steps back, this would be so much easier.

“I like you. And I don’t want to risk a professional relationship by getting personal feelings.”

He clenched his jaw again and let out a harsh breath, his stern expression faltering for a second.

“So you don’t want anything to do with me because you don’t want to accidentally fall in love with me?” he clarified, his eyes searching mine for some sort of fault.

“Yeah,” I nearly whispered.

This wasn’t going as planned. Oh god, this definitely wasn’t going as planned.

“Good luck with that.” Without a second of hesitation, Luke leaned in and pressed his lips to mine, gently grabbing my face in his hands. I knew I shouldn’t but, fuck, I had to. I kissed back and gripped the front of his t-shirt to pull his body closer to mine. “There she is,” Luke smirked, pulling back just enough for our lips to still be touching.

“Shut up,” I mumbled, tugging him to me and wrapping my arms behind his neck.

It was wrong. It was so wrong. But at that point, I didn't care. Fuck all the things I was telling myself; I couldn't give him up. I didn't want to.

Luke ran his hands down my sides, wrapping one around my thigh and hooking my leg over his waist. I bit at his bottom lip and smirked to myself when he quietly moaned in response. Even those simple sounds from him had an affect on me. He took this opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth, deepening the kiss and sending my mind reeling.

I tugged on the hem of his t-shirt until he moved back and pulled it over his head, his biceps flexing when he let it fall to the floor. His lips were back on mine instantly but I pushed him back and grabbed his wrist to pull him across the apartment and to my bedroom. He seemed surprised at first - at least until he realized where we were going.

Since I moved to the city, I had only had two men in my bed before and neither one remembered my name or stayed until morning, so bringing Luke - my own damn boss - into my bedroom was a change for me. Any concern about that was thrown out the window when he walked in after me and slammed the door, pulling my body to his and immediately jerking my pants to the floor.

I stumbled backwards until Luke grabbed me and picked me up, walking blindly around my room until his knees hit the edge of the bed. He dropped me so I bounced off the mattress a bit before he slipped his grey sweats off. A small laugh fell from his lips as he picked me up again, moving both of us to the top of the bed with his tongue on my neck.

I giggled quietly at the tickle of his growing scruff lightly scratching at my skin. Luke seemed to take this as an invitation and nuzzled his face further on my neck, pulling a full-blown laugh from me.

“Luke, stop,” I laughed, tugging on his curly hair so he’d look at me again. A bright smile graced those sinful lips of his and the look in his eyes let me know my whole don’t-fall-in-love-with-him thing was about to go to shit.

“Good god,” he mumbled, almost a whisper, before leaning down to kiss me again.

Any reservations I had about tonight completely dissolved as I let out a whimper at nothing more than his lips on mine. His right hand rested under the hem of my shirt, gently tracing his fingertips across my bare skin until he reached the fabric of my bra.

My palms pressed to his chest and pushed him back so he was kneeling between my legs. His little pout only lasted a couple seconds until I peeled my shirt over my head and reached behind myself to slide my bra off my arms as well. Luke stayed in his kneeling position even after I laid back down on the bed. He rested his hands on my thighs and stroked his fingers over my legs, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just stared at me, his eyes raking over my entire body silently.

“What?” I smiled, trying to fight back any feelings of self-consciousness creeping up on me at his unwavering scrutiny.

He paused his movements and looked me straight in the eyes, pinning me down with his gaze. I lifted myself up on my elbows and let my smile fall into a confused frown at his sudden change in demeanor. “Are you okay, Luke?”

He let out a deep breath and shook his head as it lolled forward to face the bed. With a small, forced smile, he looked back up at me with those big, baby-blue eyes.

“I don’t think you’re the only one who has to worry,” he finally said.

My breath caught in my throat at his confession. Two years of working for him and all it took was one week of more than paperwork for both of us to tumble down a ravine we didn’t see coming. I pushed myself up and maneuvered to kneel in front of him, enraptured by the deep blue pooling in his eyes. Both of my hands reached up to cup his jaw, my thumbs gently pawing at the rough stubble scattered across his face. He sighed quietly and leaned forward into my touch, his eyes fluttering closed at the contact.

“Tell you what,” I said, barely above a whisper. “Whatever we’ve got going on - we’ll make it work. Forget everything I said earlier. We both got more than we bargained for, but I want this. I want you, Luke.”

He opened his eyes and let a smile curl on his lips again. Just like before, he grabbed my waist and pinned me to the bed, his mouth on my neck instantly.

“There he is,” I joked, mimicking his earlier words. He bit the side of my neck, turning my faint giggles into quiet moans. I quickly pushed him back and groaned, “There he is, too.”

Luke replied with a groan of his own before grabbing his cock and lining up with me, slowly working his way inside me as if our previous nights weren’t enough of an expression of how he felt. I rested my hands on his shoulders as his forehead rested against mine, both of us unable to breath properly until he was fully sheathed inside me. I whimpered once he stilled above me, a faint “please” falling from my lips before he started moving.

His movements were slow and methodical, pulling out almost entirely before hitting deep inside. His lips enveloped mine; he only pulled away to take a quick breath or let out a quiet moan. My legs lifted and wrapped around his waist so I could pull him deeper. When I started bucking my own hips against his, he realized slow and methodical wouldn’t work the whole night.

Luke’s right hand wrapped around the back of my neck, the other hooking behind my shoulder as he jerked his hips forward - hard. I let out a loud moan at the sudden change of pace, the sound being muffled by Luke’s lips covering mine again. With his hands anchoring me in place, he easily had full control over my body.

The sound of skin on skin filled my room, barely covered by the sound of the street outside. My legs fell from his waist and spread open as he angled his hips to hit deeper, my head pushing back against the pillows behind me. Luke nuzzled his head into my neck, his breath on my skin sending a shiver down my spine right as the tip of his cock hit my g-spot. I whimpered at the sensation and pressed my nails against Luke’s shoulder blades, leaving distinct pink marks in their wake.

He abruptly pulled out and stood from the bed, yanking my legs so my body was across the bed.

“Luke!” I giggled, playfully grabbing at the sheets beneath me.

He smiled down at me before kissing me, effortlessly sliding back into me and groaning against my lips. I whined as he pulled away again to hoist my leg over his shoulder. He propped one of his knees up on the mattress and smirked at me, almost as a warning. I bit my lip as he slowly pushed as deep as he could get, quickly switching his pace and snapping his hips to mine. I didn’t even try to hold back any sounds. I knew my neighbors would hate me in the morning but with the way he was making me feel, I didn’t care. It was like he wanted me to be as loud as possible. He wanted to piss off the neighbors and break the bed and make sure I couldn’t walk tomorrow. There was nothing holding him back anymore.

Luke gripped my leg in one hand, letting the other press against my stomach so he could reach my clit. One of my hands gripped the sheets while the other clenched around Luke’s forearm. As much as I loved watching him, it was getting more and more difficult to focus.

“I’m gonna cum,” I whimpered, barely audible to myself, let alone Luke.

But he heard me.

“Cum, baby girl. Cum on daddy’s cock.”

I whimpered again as Luke repeatedly hit my g-spot, his hand still rubbing against my clit until my whole body tensed up at the rush flowing through me. Luke’s continued movements dragged my orgasm on, my pussy clenching his cock until he let out a quiet “fuck.” He fell onto his forearms on the bed, his rhythm faltering to a stop as he came inside of me.

Luke let his head rest against my shoulder, but kept most of his body weight on his arms to avoid crushing me. When he finally lifted his head his lips pressed to mine in a long, slow kiss. Neither one of us knew what to say, at this point. Everything that needed to be said had already been spoken, if not shown. We just laid on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, Luke still inside of me until his calves started cramping from the angle.

“Sorry, babe,” he said. “If you want to be able to do this again, my legs need a break.”

“Again?” I asked, standing from the bed and rushing to the bathroom to clean up the cum running down my legs.

“Oh, I’m staying over tonight,” he shouted from my bedroom. “And I’m calling in sick tomorrow so feel free to do the same.”

[ghive]

three chords ⋆  shawn mendes x reader

inspired by because i had you by shawn mendes

a/n: this is definitely not my first time writing for shawn, but it is my first time posting my work on this blog! initially, i wanted to write a few blurbs first, but this is my debut i guess! i planned this in may because i was planning on writing fics for every song on sm3, which obviously didn’t happen, but now it’s august and i’m finally done. yay for lily.

also i obviously don’t currently have a taglist but if you wanna be added you can send me an ask (or a request!) here

warnings: angst, swearing, anxiety attack

word count: 3.4k

playlist

the 1 ⋆ taylor swift

out of love ⋆ alessia cara

raindrops (an angel cried) ⋆ ariana grande

about you ⋆ fletcher

arms of a stranger ⋆ niall horan

under / over ⋆ gracie abrams

because i had you ⋆ shawn mendes

***

it’s late, but shawn’s not home. he’s been out all day at the studio; he’s been spending more time out writing and recording, so it’s not an unfamiliar situation. it’s empty, too; the air, your heart. you sit at the piano, the view of the toronto skyline almost invisible in your attempt to fill the growing void with song.

three chords, that’s all you’re playing. but you find a small comfort in the melody. it’s simple, unbothered by the tears welling in your eyes. it rings out in the room, like the buzz of the metal had as you dropped the promise ring into the dish that sat on shawn’s nightstand, just an hour earlier.

the door closes, keys jingle, footsteps sound throughout the condo. your fingers dance across the keys one more time, one last time. you’re soft, gentle, with your movements. three chords, two broken hearts, one more moment before it all breaks forever.

you turn around to look at him, hoping the darkness will conceal your glossy eyes. “hi,” you breathe out, pressure rising in your chest as you look over his shadowed face. those warm brown eyes, the scar on his cheek, the soft blush caused by the cool night air. he’s glowing, he always is, but his light is dimming. it hurts.

“it’s late, y/n. you didn’t have to wait for me,” he says, removing his jacket and hanging it up.

“i know, i wasn’t waiting. i mean, i was, but not for you,” you reply in a quiet voice, standing up from your seat at the piano. 

“what were you waiting for?”

you ignore his question. “dinner’s on the counter for you to heat up. i would’ve put it in the fridge when i made it but i wasn’t sure when you’d get home.”

“i’m sorry i’m so late, baby. i just got caught up at the studio, and we were writing and lost track of time-” he rambles, explaining his absence.

“it’s okay shawn, really. go eat. i’ll be awake if you need anything,” you urge, a sad smile painted across your face. he walks to the kitchen as you head toward your bedroom. you grab your last-minute items, your purse, passport. most of your belongings are already in the car - you’re not surprised if shawn’s noticed that the condo’s just a bit more empty - but you can’t be bothered if he has.

you walk into the kitchen, bag in hand. he sits at the table, playing with his food as he fiddles with his phone. you study him for a moment, for the last time. “i, uh, i should go,” you stutter out from your place in the doorway.

he looks up with wide eyes. “where?”

“away.” you close your eyes, a tear slipping out. you feel like your world is crashing down around you, leaving you alone and exhausted.

“y/n,” he stands up, approaching you slowly. you feel like glass, even though he isn’t touching you. fragile, but sharp in the softest way only heartbreak can cause.

“you were right. the other day, on the phone with connor. you’re better off without me. i’m sorry for holding you back.” you brush your fingers across his cheeks. holding him gently, you press a kiss to his lips.

you rest your forehead against him, eyes closed, breathing synced. you step back towards the front door. “i love you,” you say, looking him dead in the eye. he’s still, silent, the situation only settling in once it’s too late. the door opens and closes, you’re gone.

“i love you, too.”

the walk to the underground parking area seems to last forever as you try not to let the tears spill from your eyes. as soon as you sit down in your car, though, a sob cuts through the cool night air.

you cover your face with your hands, salty tears rushing down your cheek and into your shaking palms. you hide away in that position, not sure from whom - maybe yourself, for a few minutes, before sitting up to lean your head back against the seat.

“maybe he’ll finally be happy,” you whisper into the darkness.

he only wishes you were right.

***

that was five months ago, and shawn’s reality is just settling in. sure, you’ve rushed to move on, forget him, but you look happy. you are happy, and you’re sure shawn is too. it’s what he wanted, after all, how could he not be?

he’s not sure how he isn’t, either. but every time he hears your name, or sees your face on a mutual friend’s social media, it gets a little harder. those five months ago, that phone call with connor, the consequences, everything’s still so clear in his mind. it burns more than his tongue when he sips his coffee too soon or touches the flame as he lights candles around the condo. it burns more than anything, and as more time passes, he just wishes he had you to soothe the pain.

his album just came out, and while you haven’t listened to it, your friends have. you don’t mind the sound of his voice, or his name. you try not to dwell on him too much, and that’s easier said than done, but you broke up for him. so, you’re trying to move on for yourself. not to mention the fact that your boyfriend would riot if you even mentioned your ex’s name, and you’re not ready to fight with him, too.

macy’s playlist is on shuffle as the two of you drive through the southern ontario countryside. it’s a calm, safe space, hardly a care in the world as you laugh at your best friend from the passenger seat. that is, until a certain voice sounds from the speakers, his voice.

“what song is this?” you ask, the first few lyrics swirling in your brain.

“because i had you, it’s one of shawn’s new songs so if you want to skip it you can.” macy smiles apologetically, not wanting to upset you.

“no, no it’s okay.”

you just listen. to the lyrics, to the melody, there's something so familiar about it. the song, it’s so obvious, is about you, about that night five months ago. the time it’s taken for you to let go, to finally find a bit of peace.

it’s all fine, maybe you felt yourself tear up just a bit, until you hear those three chords. the three chords that had echoed in the void of your heart for weeks after you left. you weren’t upset with him for using the melody, it was so simple, he probably didn’t even remember it was yours. but the song, the story, your story, you just can’t help but wonder.

***

he remembers. he remembers all of it. the shakiness of your breath before you left, the melody you were playing to make it all go away. shawn knows he should’ve asked you if he could use it in his song, but he couldn’t face you. as much as he craves you, he just has to let go.

he hopes you don’t listen to the album, that you won’t notice that almost every song he’s written since that night and years before has been about you. that when you walked out that door, he’d both gained and lost the most beautiful muse. but if you do listen to it, you’ll know. you’ll know the story, and you’ll know he’s sorry.

you know, and it hurts so much more than you could’ve imagined. in the months since the breakup, his voice had never really bothered you, but when you could tell that you caused the pain he had written about, every single word hit you a little deeper. as soon as you walk into your empty apartment, you drop your bags and collapse on the sofa.

you feel cold, even as you snuggle deeper into the cushions and you feel yourself start to sweat. you swear you can hear someone moving around you, even though your roommate is out on a business trip all week. you’re dizzy, you’re sweating, your head’s pounding. your heart starts to race, your breathing quickens. “i can’t do this right now, i can’t fucking do this,” you choke out.

you rub your hands up and down your arms to ground yourself, shutting your eyes tightly. it’s not stopping you from working up into a panic, and it definitely doesn’t help when his words sound in your head. “you’re okay, baby. i’m here. it’s just me, it’s just shawn,” he’d say to comfort you. it did comfort you, or, it used to, but this time it just sent you farther away from your peace of mind.

“but i’m not okay, and you’re not here. it’s just me.”

***

you lie in bed awake, every little sound amplified in the darkness: the buzz from the air conditioning, the flapping of your curtains, the roar of the cars from the downtown street below. it’s like the sudden return of heartbreak broke the numbness you’ve been living in, bringing you back to the harsh reality of what you used to have.

you sit up in bed, then reach over drowsily to grab your phone. the screen lights up with a picture of you and some friends at the top of the empire state building a few years ago, you had been visiting shawn on tour and met up with them while you were there. you squint slightly as your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness, 2:39 am reads the clock when you can see properly. you open your phone to the home screen before selecting the spotify app. you sigh, then type in his name. “this is probably a really bad idea.”

shawn mendes it reads, the cover of his self-titled album shining brightly into your bedroom. his face split into three, flowers growing in the empty spaces. it’s much prettier than his other two album covers, much more artistic. he’d never really had an eye for design, so you can’t imagine it had been his idea.

you press play, the first track starting to sound out loud before you pause it to grab your earbuds. once you’re settled, you start the song again, and start to hurt, again.

every song, you can tell when it was written. in my blood, you’ve heard that one before. shawn said it was one of the most vulnerable pieces he’s ever written.

nervous, it’s what he used to be like around you told through a story; not quite the same, but it’s yours. it’s the adrenaline of a young relationship, the excitement of someone new.

lost in japan, he’d written just for fun - you remember him coming home from the studio so tired but so excited, it was a new sound, and it was the start of a new era.

where were you in the morning?, it’s a situation you’re sure he’s encountered numerous times since the end of your relationship. you hadn’t heard even a bit of it before.

like to be you, it’s the exact dynamic you two always had when you were in a fight; it’s perfect. “julia michaels!” he had said that evening when he walked in the door. “i can’t wait for you to hear this song, honey.” if only you had known.

fallin’ all in you, has you in tears almost immediately: the first verse encompasses what you had, the second verse what could’ve been. you had plans, the two of you, to have a few kids, grow old together. “trapped up on a tightrope, now we’re here,” shawn sings.

“where did we get lost?” you think as the song finishes. you used to be so sure that you’d last, and he was too. you wish you knew when he fell out of love, when that promise of forever became empty.

particular taste, it’s new; you hadn’t heard it until now. the girl, whoever she is, you just wish that you could be her, even for only a moment. to have him completely mesmerized, to be that kid in love.

why, you’re not sure why it hurts you the way it does - it doesn’t even line up with your relationship, but the feeling it awakens is all too familiar. it’s like your heart had heard it in another world, waiting for the day it would run through your mind like it had your blood. the feeling confuses you, but as the song comes to a close, you close your eyes to cry a bit, too.

because i had you, there it is, that song. it’s so stupid how it breaks your heart - you thought you had gotten it all for yourself, now. yet, the song rips it to shreds, tearing away at the memories you’ve tried so desperately to let go of. he did this to himself, you think, but you wonder if you hadn’t gone, maybe neither of you would be so broken.

queen, it’s new, too. with every song you haven’t heard before, jealousy burns a little hotter. you’re glad this “queen” isn’t you, but you wish that the songs that were about you weren’t so sad.

youth, it’s cute. a nice refresher from the love songs, but nothing worth dwelling on. the message is powerful, but you’re too distracted by the love songs and heartbreak anthems to pay much attention.

mutual, you remember hearing it before. it was always fun for shawn to play with fiction, test his storytelling abilities, so when this song came around, he was more than excited to put it out. it’s a bit more basic lyrically, but the melodies and aesthetic appeal to your tired ears.

perfectly wrong, it seems innocent at first, but as the song goes on, the lyrics start to set in. it’s the story of what you and shawn were before you left - he’d probably written it around the time of the breakup. you just wish he had said it to your face.

when you’re ready, it’s probably the most sickeningly cute song you’ve ever heard. of course, it’s familiar, you’d heard him playing the melody, or something similar, just a couple of years ago. it’s clear that he’d written it early in your relationship or been inspired by that time, and it’s adorable, but it pains you to hear how hopeful you both were. you genuinely thought you would last, get married, grow old together, and it seems that shawn did, too.

you know your boyfriend won’t like that you’re listening to shawn’s music, he hates shawn more than you ever could. you can’t even say you hate him, after all, he’s the one who fell out of love. you hate that you had to leave, you hate that you’ll never look at a piano the same way again, you hate that you’ve become the muse of his heartbreak songs; but you could never hate shawn, not when you still love him more than anything.

you think maybe you’ll never get over him, they say you’ll always remember your first love. but for now you just hope that you’ll be okay, you’ll be okay like you thought he would be. it’s too late to go back for him, run back into the apartment and beg to fix your relationship. he was supposed to be your forever, but you know that dream’s long gone, you woke up to hellish flames and the screaming chaos of your mind and reality. shawn’s too far gone, and you need to stop reaching.

you’re happy with your current relationship, aesthetically, anyway. he’s there for you, and he’s supportive, and he’s lovely. his job is secure, you know that you can call and know that “soon” means a few hours, not weeks. it’s a storybook romance, he’s perfect for you, and you’re perfect for him. it should be working, and it might be if your heart wasn’t so broken, but you still feel the butterflies start to fade, and the sparks starting to cool down.

part of you, somewhere deep down, knows that you and shawn could’ve figured something out, that you should’ve; but he didn’t fight for you when you left, and you didn’t speak up when you had the chance. you were only 16 when you fell in love, just high school lovers who thought you could be more. you were young, and reckless, and hopeful. everyone warned you that it wouldn’t last, but you wouldn’t listen.

you would lie under the stars, shawn would tell you that you were meant to be forever, that those very stars had aligned perfectly for you to meet. one of those nights, you were 18, you sat in the back of his jeep. “hey babe?” shawn said, looking over at you fondly.

“what’s up?”

“i think we have one of the greatest loves of all time, truly. like nobody’s perfect, but we’re perfect for each other, y’know?”

“yeah, yeah i do know, and i agree.” you smiled, then kissed him softly. in the back of his jeep, under the stars, pretending like you’d go down in history. and for that moment in time, you thought that maybe you would. 

***

your sister still asks if shawn will come back, she’s only a kid, she wouldn’t know better. but you know that he won’t, he can’t. he can write songs that’ll never see the light of day and text messages he’ll never send, but he can’t come back to you.

he can’t come back to your family, to those nights spent all together, teaching him how to make your favourite foods, dancing in the kitchen to songs he’d never heard. he can’t come back to sitting at the large, round table to eat the meal that he could never get quite right, but always tasted perfect because he had put so much love and care into trying.

you want to forget so desperately, you can’t take seeing his honey eyes staring back at you when you’re trying to fall asleep, the ache you feel when you sit down at a piano. he haunts you, living in the depths of your mind and the sharpness of your breath. you want to tell him to go away, leave you in peace. but he lingers, as does his power over you.

shawn’s trying to move on, too. but in the eyes of every one-night stand, every failed date, you’re right there. you’re not his, and he knows it all too well. he has to let go, he has to, but he doesn’t. he knows he broke your relationship, that he was just upset and confused and it ruined his life. he wants to text you, at least tell you he’s sorry.

but right now he’s staring up at the ceiling of his apartment, another woman beside him, curled up in his sheets. she’s beautiful, dark eyes to match the warm brown of her skin. she glows in the morning sunlight, long eyelashes fluttering slightly with every slow breath.

she’s kind, and warm, and loving. she’s supportive when shawn needs her, and she can take care of herself without his constant attention. from afar, she’s everything shawn needs and has ever needed, but to shawn, she’ll never be just right for him, because she’s not you.

he looks down at his shirtless chest, gently pulling the covers off his side of the bed. he pulls on his boxers, a pair of basketball shorts next. he looks back at her, watching as she opens her eyes slightly, a small yawn leaving her plump lips. 

she reaches over to the other side of the bed, but when she feels the empty space, she fully opens her eyes. shawn’s standing in the doorway of the bedroom, now fully-clothed, but exhausted.

“you good?” she asks, bringing the sheets up with her to cover her bare chest as she sits up against the headboard.

“i’m so sorry,” shawn chokes out. “i just can’t love you the way you want me to. i want to but i can’t-“ he shuts his eyes tightly, “-i can’t.”

“it’s her, isn’t it?”

“yeah, yeah it is.”

[orionsangel86]

Season 15 - Spoilers and Speculation

OKAY HI EVERYBODY GUESS WHO HAS BEEN SCREAMING OVER ON TWITTER FOR HALF AN HOUR!

There I was happily trying to watch the Great British Bake Off as you do, and my notifications start blowing up because someone decided to go write a ridiculous spoilery article about season 15 in the TV Guide magazine and all the good and terrible things we have to look forward too! So I promised I would attempt some sort of time line of spoilers and events so that we can jumble together some expectations (and some yummy speculation) about the upcoming season! 

Episode 1 - we know that Cas is in this episode as Misha was filming. We know that Alex was also filming though potentially either as a corpse, or as a manifestation of someones guilt/hallucination (these are theories not confirmed). Other than this we know that Jack “won’t be coming back from the Empty for a while now” and hasn’t been seen filming since. (source)

Episodes 2 and 3 - The main spoilers of relevance are that Dean and Cas are still not okay with each other. There is tension between them and they won’t be okay for a while (sources on this are from SDCC and well, everywhere, unless you’ve actually been living under a rock all summer).

Now today we got this spoiler:

[Twitter link]

“Theres a scene we shot recently that really got to me. Cas decides he’s going away for a while. And it wasn’t necessarily a goodbye, but it felt like that to me.”

and this one:

[Twitter Link]

“Cas feels he’s losing Sam and Dean, the only other people in the universe he has a connection to”

and this:

[Twitter Link]

“God becoming his primary enemy bent on destroying everything he cares about is a really difficult transition for Cas to go through” as a result, after a few episodes of chaos, Cas gets fed up and takes a personal time-out before returning to the action, or as Collins puts it, “He leaves in a huff.”

So we have been speculating that this likely takes place in episode 3 following some big dramatic showdown. Cas leaves because he just can’t deal with everything that is happening. Poor angel has lost his son, found out his father is basically enemy number 1, and he has lost the one person he cares about most in the universe (honestly I just don’t see Sam falling out with Cas here because those two are TIGHT but Sam’s friendship alone won’t be enough to make Cas stay - it’s the DeanCas tension that all the PR has been going on about lately).

So then we have two Cas free episodes with 4 and 5 (and I love that there was early speculation following a pic that Jensen posted that Dean might have a beard in episode 4 because OMG GRIEF BEARD OVER LOSING CAS HELLO YES PLEASE GIMME THIS!)

Episode 6 set spoilers show Jared and Misha filmed together, whereas there were very few Jensen sightings. We can therefore speculate that Sam reaches out to Cas because he is fed up of his brothers sulking? Or maybe Cas finds a hunt and calls Sam because he’s still mad at his husband. Or well, anything along these lines. If Dean and Cas don’t reunite in episode 6, then that makes for a very interesting timeline with episode 7. Which is looking to be EPIC.

We have received quite a few spoilers for episode 7 so far. We know that Christian Kane is going to be playing an “old friend” of Dean’s from his past (who it appears Sam doesn’t know, or at least isn’t involved with). We know there will be a fight scene which “the fans will love” whatever that means, and we know that they filmed at “Swayze’s bar”. [Twitter Source]

*rubs temples and tries not to reach for the red nose straight away*

We also now know that Jensen will be singing in this episode and that Dean and Leo have a “wild night” together where Dean will “recapture his mojo” [Twitter Source]

*starts painting face with red and white*

So Dean was down on his mojo eh Dabb? This is starting to sound a bit like early season 13. Dean clearly doesn’t take too well to Cas leaving him in episode 3. >.>

Now I am convinced that no matter what happens in episode 7, the homoerotic tension is gonna be EXTREME, but please allow me to go full clown mode here for a second 

*adjusts rainbow wig*

*HERE BE SPECULATION FOLKS - JUST SOLID CLOWN FACED SPECULATION*

If this episode does indeed go down the route of Leo being an ex boyfriend, if something DOES happen between Dean and Leo beyond just bros being bros, then we have a legit coming out episode here following a huge bust up with his actual husband that somehow ends with Dean getting his mojo back. This episode, like every Dean focused episode, usually ends up with Dean getting some big realisation. Dean growing a little bit more, and the audience learning something new about him. Whatever goes down, we are now in a prime position for a DeanCas reunion either by episode end or in episode 8. 

IF in episode 8 Dean is able to reconcile with Cas in someway, but because some other horrible shit goes down (which based on latest spoilers could potentially be an Adam/OG!Michael return/Cage breakout of hell nightmare) plus since episode 8 is a Bucklemming episode meaning it will be overly jam packed with plot stuff so a potential Jack return plus Empty entity in this one too - then...

*deep breath*

The time line fits.

Episode 8 plot filled mayhem interrupts a true DeanCas make up scene but we get at least some reveal that Dean wants to have a “conversation” with Cas, then imagine if following the episode 8 drama Jack returns. Imagine if we get a midseason finale in episode 9 where for at least a small part of the episode it looks like the family is back together? Following all the angst and separation of the early season we are right back to where we were during the midseason finale of season 14 - TFW2.0 together again and fighting side by side. Enough to bring some joy to our poor angels otherwise broken heart?

Imagine if though, when all is said and done, right after the boys think they have a win, Dean gets his moment. The show has already given us his coming out ep. He has already realised what it is he truly wants, now he finally gets the chance to reach out and grasp for it...

But when he does it’s a moment too late. It’s time to pay up. Cas gets his moment of true happiness - and the Empty takes him. Midseason finale ends with a horrified Dean having just laid his heart on his sleeve, and a dead Castiel at his feet.

THE TIMELINE FITS.

(I know. I’m a clown for having any hope in this - but my god the potential is too much for me to bare. HONK HONK)

Standard Disclaimer: Nothing I say here is claiming to be factual other than sources from PR related material and spoilers from set. Speculation is all based on what we have seen and my own foolish hope that this show might actually go the way it has been building up to for 10 fucking years. I am not a psychic. I do not have a crystal ball. Readers are asked to manage their own expectations and not blame me for daring to squee about my own excited enthusiasm on the internet on my own blog. Hate is not welcome. Negative comments and moaning accusations are not welcome. Either squee with me in excited delight or scroll on past. You are welcome to join my screaming over on Twitter as well.

Manage your own expectations. I am not telling you anything is going to happen other than what I would LIKE to happen. As always PR IS NOT SHOWRUNNING.

Thank you and good night.