#COMING TO YOU WITH ANOTHER HAUNTED PORTRAIT

[alicenpai]

two lonely rabbits, two hearts beating as one 🐇🖤🤍 (animated gif) now on inprnt !

old sketch from march I decided to finish <3 usually when one of my sketches (intending to become a completed drawing) gets put on the backburner, it never surfaces. I usually have to prioritize other drawings and then months or years pass and once I have time, I lose interest and start other drawings in their place... but I'm glad I mustered up the energy to finish this one, ESPECIALLY since I strongly felt I needed more gothic pieces in my gallery hehe

the relationships between characters in this series are so interesting, because there are so many character parallels. I actually had to change the personality of white alice from the sketch to the final, since I .. think I misinterpreted her story! (so I think it turned out less gothic horror than desired but you know what I'll take this <3) I first read this story when I was 14 and I 1000% BET I'll still be finding nuances and new details in the writing years into the future...

I had a lot of fun with the animation albeit just being a blink animation 😩👍 but blinks can be animated in a variety of ways! in terms of my animation skills, I do consider myself on the weaker side. so if i can integrate more animation frames into my illustrations, it'll help me become more familiar and comfortable with the medium. I especially like the difference in how many frames it takes for dark Alice vs white Alice to blink. I think the blinks came out fluidly and I'm quite satisfied with how this drawing came out!

[wombywoo]

do you have any ghostsoap favorite fics, perhaps?

boy do I....

I should preface this by saying that I'm pretty...particular with what types of fics I enjoy reading (I only like certain character interpretations/tropes/writing styles, etc) so bear with me...

These are all mostly canon-compliant, non-AUs, ones that I regard highly~

Seasons--by StinglessWasp: This is pretty much my go-to fic rec for anyone into CoD and ghostsoap in general. It showcases everything I love about these characters, in a setting that feels as authentic to the games as possible, while also exploring the depth and sincerity hidden under the surface. So well-written and paced--the dialogue and military references all contribute to that 'feels like a mission out of the game' experience. Plus, I just love this interpretation of our boys--the humor, the inner struggles, the intimacy--Wasp 100% *gets* these characters and it's a joy to read <3

Except You, You Can Stay--by Iravaid: While this one isn't *technically* ghostsoap until the last chapter, in my opinion, it's required reading for anyone who gives a shit about Simon Riley. This is *the* character study--an intimate dissection of Ghost's past that seems so realistic and grounded, you forget how ludicrous those comics really are. Ira takes such care in treating these heavy topics with delicacy and effectiveness. Each chapter has you going 'oh wow, this is even better than the last', but as a whole--it's a stunning, fleshed-out glimpse into Simon as the character he was always meant to be. And the final chapter which eases you into his relationship with Johnny is so authentic and sweet, it just makes perfect sense that they should be together, and that this poor poor man deserves some goddamn love <3

bleeding in the house of god--by revolvermonkcelot: This is a really great 'missing scene' fic, a perfect opportunity to explore the in-between moments that the game so carelessly chooses to gloss over. I can't praise Monk's writing enough--it's slick and crisp and very tasty; the imagery just jumps off the page and you can practically feel the sweat. Plus, the dialogue exchanges between our two boys are so well-timed and in-character--love all the slang and British references~ This whole fic reads like an addition to their mission flirting, and I'm all for it! You can truly tell this author has such deep understanding and experience with this franchise (winkwinkwink, this is a joke) Read it--it's good!

The Dead are all Living--by Kabbal: This fic blew me away when I first read it. It's such a unique take on the retirement trope, I just adore this interpretation of Simon as an aging recluse while he builds his home. I tend to lean towards more subtle, grounded characterizations of Mr Riley, and this really fits the bill. All of these glimpses and fragments into his post-military life contribute to an overarching love story; the scenes with Johnny are so poignant, it's like you're pining alongside them both. I love how not-perfect they are; flawed and difficult and real. There are some moments and lines that just....struck something in me so deeply. I'm sure I'll still be thinking about it for a long long time <3

Portrait of Taction--by a_platypus: Another Simon-centric fic that I absolutely love. The character voice in this is off the charts, I can hear him so vividly in all of his inner dialogue and stunted attempts at conversation. Simon is so endearingly dense in this fic, you're just waiting for him to finally get his act together, but the clumsy, oblivious steps he takes in his relationship with Soap are truly a treat to read. I love this version of Johnny too--confident and considerate, but still hopelessly crushing on his superior. It's comedic, well-written, and the paragraphs describing Soap's journal give some of the best insights into his character I've seen <3

come on, haunt me--by flyby2: This was a really good long fic that I took my time savoring. What could have been a typical 'on leave' fic instead took time to develop a unique spin on the backstories as well as throwing our boys into some wholesome encounters. Both Soap and Ghost felt very true to character, and I appreciate the exploration of PTSD and the subsequent struggles that come along with...all that. There was a really nice balance in having their romance spread across the chapters, and I can promise a very sweet, happy conclusion <3

in the mess of it all--by flowersferns: A lovely one-shot that exhibits some of my favorite aspects of these two characters. I'm a sucker for 'one of them is hurt, the other is freaking out, they are both idiots in love, etc'. There are some really great dialogue and character moments in this, plus the overall prose hits hard. Love this take on their romance--the mutual trust, the familiarity of their bond. And just the general theme of impermanence--the inevitability of what this relationship means for them--two soldiers, willing and ready to sacrifice their lives at a moment's notice, still clinging to each other because...god...that's all they have---big fan of this :'D <3

Lapsus--by Lisbetadair: Another really great one-shot and 'missing scene' fic. The authenticity in the writing is spot-on--it's like you can feel Soap's pain right off the bat. I love how smoothly the banter flows between the two, and the attention to detail and references all help lend to that 'hardened military man' exterior. Ghost smelling like flowers because of a face wipe is such a delightful addition, plus the scene where Soap is, ah, donald-ducking it in just a t-shirt with his jewels out is such a funny mental image, I still think of it fondly from time to time. It's funny, it's surprisingly cute, it's very in-character. Stick around for some awkward but adorable cuddles <3

I'm sure I have more to recommend, but these are the ones I can personally endorse for now~

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited) john price knew he would marry you the first time he saw you.

john price met you in the rain.

the memory of the encounter remains etched in his mind like a timeless portrait. as the years pass and his recollections fade, the moment of your first meeting remains vivid and unblemished.

the sky, a somber shade of ashen blue, was adorned with brooding clouds of a dark and furious pearl grey. thunder roared in the distance, while lightning ominously streaked across the sky. the rain, a gentle drizzle, tapped rhythmically on his freshly trimmed lawn and his parked truck. seated on his porch, cradling a cup of tea, john's loyal english mastiff, simply known as 'dog', slumbered beneath his chair.

he'd only had a few more days left until he was back in the field, and despite having needed a couple of days to rest, john was ready to get back to the familiarity of work- especially when there wasn't anyone waiting for him when he got home. ( well, besides 'dog' )

john had always been content with his own company, finding relief in the quiet moments spent with his loyal dog. the peacefulness that came with his aloneness had become a sanctuary, a place where he could escape from the disorder of the world and his position; and find solace in his thoughts. but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months and then further, john's heart began to yearn for something more.

the familiarity of being alone, once a source of comfort, now felt like a hefty weight on his shoulders. the emptiness that had once brought him peace now seemed suffocating, as if the walls of his home were closing in on him. he craved for a wife who would eagerly anticipate his return home from his weeks away, someone to hold close and shower with affection.

the stillness that had once brought him solace now echoed with a deep longing for intimacy. the sound of his footsteps seemed hollow, and the absence of life within the house filled the empty spaces of his home with a haunting void. john couldn't help but yearn for the day when his despondent home would be replaced with the joy of shared moments and the love of another.

he craved for the warmth of another's touch, the feeling of intertwined fingers and loving touches. he craved the sound of laughter filling the air, the kind that could only come from shared jokes and inside stories. john imagined the simple pleasures of cooking together, of sharing meals and conversations that stretched long into the night.

and despite himself, despite not wanting to feel anything. his heart ached for the intimacy of whispered secrets and stolen kisses, for the comfort of knowing that someone was there to catch him when he stumbled, unconditionally. he yearned for the simple pleasure of waking up next to someone, their presence a constant reminder that he was not alone anymore.

john price, for the first time in what felt like decades; craved for something more.

john's focus is abruptly interrupted by a thunderous slam, causing his weary eyes to shift from his tepid cup of tea. his piercing blue gaze fixates on the source of the commotion across the street. as he observes, his attention is captivated by you, and while being lost in his own melancholic thoughts, he realizes that the rain has intensified, pouring down relentlessly.

there you stand on your porch, engaged in a heated argument with a man. your gestures are animated, your lips downturned in a pained frown, and your brows knitted together in irritation.

the rain's melody drowns out all other sounds, leaving john in a world of silence from the conversation. yet, even amidst this deafening quiet, he cannot tear his gaze away from you, your eyes widening in disbelief as the man retreats into the house, slamming the door shut. price watches as you fish out a pair of car keys from your pocket, walking briskly down the porch stairs and to a car that sits in the driveway. you're immediately drenched in rain from head to toe and john finds that you still look breathtaking regardless.

inexplicably, the two of you lock eyes, and your lips pull into a thin line, your words barely audible over the pouring rain but he catches them nonetheless. "what the hell are you lookin' at?!" then you slip into the car and speed down the street before he can even process what he's heard. slowly a smirk pulls at his lips, the crowsfeet around his eyes deepening.

john price, wanted you.

[moon-rivr]

could you make a miguel x chubby reader where he’s the readers mortal enemy as he’s the ruler of a much larger kingdom but he wants an alliance for some totally random reason and the reader is completely oblivious to the reasoning behind his actions?

ik it’s dead specific but yh

yes, your majesty

pairing: king miguel o’hara x chubby princess reader

contents: mirror sex, doggy, breeding kink (if you squint), and arranged marriage

author’s note: so this wasn’t exactly like the request (i’m sorry) but i hope you enjoy regardless :)

word count: 4.7K+

Sounds of screaming and agony awoke Miguel up from his slumber, springing up in his bed covered in a cold sweat. If he tried hard enough, he could usually hear the word 'help!' escaping from his brother's mouth. The sounds had been engraved in his mind for so long that he could usually fall asleep soon after the dreams, but the sweet relief of sleep didn't hit him no matter how much he tossed and turned. He'd been so lost in his mind that he'd forgotten about the woman laying down next to him, her presence providing no comfort towards the situation.

"Sire, sorry to disturb your sleep but your father wishes to have a word with you," one of the maids called out, her fingers gently tapping against his door. "I'll be right there," Miguel responded, rubbing his hand over his eyes as the sun peeked through the white silk curtains. He got up from his bed, pulling on the first pair of pants that he could find before taking out his wallet. "How much do I owe you for the night?" he asked the woman laying on the bed, her eyes barely getting adjusted to the light. She looked visibly disappointed that he was pushing her away but she was quick to hide her reaction.

"Two hundred," she responded, brushing her hair off to the side as she zipped up the dress she'd worn last night. "I trust that this won't get out to the press," he warned her, passing her three hundred dollar bills before walking back to his closet to get a shirt. Once he finished making himself presentable, the woman had already left without another word. Miguel walked down the halls of the palace, the portraits of him and his brother haunting him as he walked to his father's office. Before he had the chance to knock, his father had already told him to come inside.

The walls of the room seemed to be closing in as Miguel looked over at his father, meeting his sharp green eyes. "Sit down, we have a lot to talk about," his father motioned him to the seat in front of his desk, Miguel’s feet begrudgingly taking him to the spot. "I hope you know how expensive these little habits of yours are getting. You think that you're being sneaky but you're not," George started off, not bothering to look over at Miguel anymore as he started reading off a report. "I don't see how it's a concern. The press doesn't know anything about them," Miguel responded, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back on the chair.

"It will be a concern when you're engaged," his father deadpanned, finally looking up from the report at him. Miguel couldn't help but start laughing at the absurdity of the situation, his chuckles dying down after he saw the look on his father's face. "Engaged? And to who?" Miguel decided to entertain the situation, even if he was certain he wouldn't go through with it. "The youngest princess of Nova Atlantea," George responded, his disgust evident at the way that he even uttered the words. Miguel took a couple seconds to let it register in his brain, laughing once more as he stared at his father. You can't expect me to marry her. The kingdom has Gabriel under captivity if you recall."

"Which should be enough incentive for you to get married to my daughter," the king from Nova Atlantea bellowed, King James, walking in and sitting next to Miguel. Miguel glanced over at him, motioning him to continue with the statement. "Your kingdom has plenty of resources to offer, from military equipment to natural resources, while we have your brother. I’d say it's a pretty even deal," the king added, a devilish smile appearing on his smile after he finished speaking. Miguel’s teeth grinded together, looking back at his father for some kind of backup to no avail.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought about what the two men were telling him, looking down at the floor like he wished for it to open and shallow him up. “I do have one request for the marriage. I’d like for my daughter to remain blissfully unaware of what's taking place here. Make her believe that you've been longing for her since you first saw her or something," the king spoke up, making Miguel look up. Even though the idea of marrying his rival filled him up with inexplicable rage, he was also aware that it was his fault that Gabriel had been captured. "I suppose that sounds like a fair arrangement then."

Miguel hesitated to sign the treaty that was placed in front of him a couple minutes later, his hand shaking as he held the pen in his hand. His handwriting came out sloppy as he essentially signed off his freedom, locked down to the duties of the kingdom. "How do you feel about coming to dinner later? I’d love to have you as a guest," the king told him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. It was more of an order than a request, but Miguel still found himself nodding along to what the king was saying. He waited for the heavy footsteps to fade away, going off to his chamber to analyze the situation in a more clear light.

Miguel had spent most of the day in his bed, tossing a ball up at the ceiling as the wheels in his head turned to figure out a way to get out of the situation. Unfortunately, the whole arrangement was bound by printed words thus bounding him as well to fulfill his part of the deal. Even if he was doing this to free his brother from the prison he'd been forced in, he couldn't help but think about what you would think of his deception. He got up when one of the servants came in, putting a suit down on the corner of his bed for the dinner. He begrudgingly got out of bed, running a hand through his hair while he walked into the bathroom to get ready.

You were in the middle of getting ready for the dinner, your father telling you to dress up beforehand. One of the servants came in, almost buzzing with the news that she had to share with you. "Your majesty, King O’Hara from Nueva York’s going to be at the dinner. Just so you're prepared," she told you, buttoning up the top of your dress while you viewed your appearance in the mirror. You'd never been too interested in the whole diplomacy of the kingdom, being the youngest out of your siblings, but you were aware of the fact that the kingdoms hated one another.

Your mind was running on overdrive as you walked down the stairs, seeing the king already standing there and holding his hand out for you to grab. "Your majesty," Miguel greeted you, his sultry voice melting like butter in your ears. You returned the acknowledgment, walking with him to the dining room. Your father had been frustrated after you ran off every possible suitor that he presented to you, but you never thought of him to be so desperate to seek out an alliance with the kingdom of Nueva York. The dining room was a paradox in itself, a massive room with more than thirty seats but yet only you two and your father were present in the room.

"Pass me the salt, please," your father told Miguel, thanking him once he'd gotten what he'd requested. You looked over at Miguel, the only tell that he was annoyed was the vein bulging in his forehead. You decided to break the silence, wondering why your father and Miguel were acting so cordial around one another. "Excuse me father, but why is the king of Nueva York here?" You spoke up, taking the white cloth from your lap to wipe your mouth. "I'm glad you asked, actually. He's here because the two of you are scheduled to get married by the end of the month," your father responded, your face immediately dropping at the bombshell he'd dropped.

While you'd heard about your siblings getting along with their arranged suitors and some of the romance novels you'd read presenting the idea that love was possible in those arrangements, the idea wasn't something that thrilled you in the slightest. "I thought the kingdoms hated one another," you elaborated, hoping that your father had a temporary lapse in judgement and would be reminded of their positions. "I'm aware of the previous rivalries that there might've occurred. But me and the king are willing to push those aside and unite the kingdoms as one," your father responded, speaking to you like you were one of the multiple news reporters he had to deal with rather than his daughter. "And what if I say no?"

Your father placed the fork he was holding down with force, glaring at you while Miguel was busy cutting into his piece of steak. "The deal is signed. There's no room for you to say no without a bloodshed that you'll end up being responsible for," your father told you, a finality to his voice as he spoke. You decided to remain quiet for the remainder of the dinner, your eyes occasionally drifting off to look at Miguel. You could see that he wasn't exactly eager to go along with the marriage either, but he was playing the facade very well for your father.

You headed out to the balcony after dinner, looking out as the stars shone throughout the night sky. It was the one place in the kingdom where you could see the clarity of the night, no light pollution affecting the view. You jumped a little when you felt someone's hand on your shoulder, turning around to face Miguel. He stood next to you, watching the stars by your side before turning to look at you after a while. "I'm sorry that this marriage isn't exactly what you wanted, your majesty. But I think we can get through this whole ordeal much easier if we try our best to just get along," he spoke up, just loud enough for you to hear.

"I suppose. But you'll have to stop calling me 'your majesty', my name works just fine," you responded, looking over at him. The way that the moonlight shone across his features and the way that his eyes almost seemed to compete with the stars made you realize that maybe falling in love with him wouldn't be the worst thing in the universe. At least, from the physical aspect. "What do you like to do? Just so I have an idea of what to do for our date tomorrow," he told you, his hand snaking its way down to your waist as he held you close to him. "Most of what I do is solely for the purpose of benefiting the public view of the royals. But I’d like to go out for a picnic with you if that's something you'd be willing to do."

The two of you kept talking for most of the night, simply getting to know one another and you found yourself not hating the encounter completely. While you weren't head over heels for what he shown you today, you were interested in uncovering more details about him and his life. He left the castle after the lights had been turned off, leaving you out in the balcony with your thoughts. You looked down at him as he walked through the castle grounds, waving over at him once he turned around. If his eyes didn't beat the splendor of the stars, his smile while he waved back at you certainly did.

A loud knock on your door awoke you the next day, one of the servants poking their head through your bedroom door. "Your majesty, sorry to disturb your slumber but King O’Hara is downstairs waiting for you," she announced, shutting the door after she finished speaking to let you get ready. You got up from the comfort of your sheets, walking into the bathroom to get ready for the day. Your mind began running through all the different possibilities of what was the king's intention through going with this, your mind going back to the fact that his brother was a prisoner in the castle's gallows.

Miguel ended up taking you to the lakeside in his kingdom, a blanket set up with some food on it. You figured that you would disclose the information about his brother's whereabouts, not wanting to force him into the marriage despite the document your father mentioned. "You're agreeing to this because my father promised you Gabriel’s freedom, correct?" You inquired, watching as his brows furrowed before he schooled his expression to return back to normal. He didn't say anything to confirm or deny your suspicions, but he didn't really need to.

"I can show you where's located after we're done with the date, I don't feel comfortable holding someone's life on the line just for the sake of marriage," you told him, pouring in a bit of the champagne he brought into the glass. "You don't have to do that," he spoke up, his voice drifting off with the wind with how quiet he was being. "But I want to. My father tends to make agreements without going through with it," you added, handing him a glass of champagne. Though the conversation from earlier lingered, you ended up enjoying the rest of the evening with him by the lakeside.

The two of you ended up at the palace a couple hours later, your heels clicking on the stairway down to the basement. Miguel followed behind you, staying as quiet as possible just in case that the guards were present. You knew that the guards were out on their break but you couldn't help but be amused at the sight of the giant of a man sneaking around like a mouse. You grabbed the keys from one of the drawers, guiding him to the cell that Gabriel was currently being held. While most of the people that were captured in the castle deserved their fate, Gabriel had been caught for running around in the kingdom as a teenager.

You opened the door to his cell, watching as Gabriel’s gaze adjusted to the lights turning on. He jumped up to his feet when he realized that it wasn't the guards bringing him food, his arms wrapping around Miguel once he saw him. "Mi hermano. Cuánto te extrañé," Gabriel whispered, engulfed in Miguel’s body by the tightness of the hug. (my brother. how i missed you) "Lo siento por dejarte tirado," Miguel’s voice cracked as he spoke, his voice sounding raw from the sheer shock. (i’m sorry for leaving you behind) You stood guard as the brothers had their moment, looking out through the door just to make sure that nobody was coming nearby. "Aorry to ruin the moment but the guards are scheduled to come back in about five minutes," you spoke up, leading them out of the castle.

"Gracias. I appreciate the times that you brought me food and now for freeing me," Gabriel spoke up, turning to look back at you with shiny eyes. You'd taken the responsibility of giving Gabriel food when the guards forgot, which was most of the time since the viewed the prisoners as something less than the corpses underneath the castle. Miguel turned to look at you, a softness in his eyes as he took you in. "Thank you for everything, your majesty," he told you, walking out with Gabriel afterwards. You couldn't help but feel bad as you saw Gabriel limping alongside Miguel, Miguel’s arm wrapped around his shoulders as he helped him maintain his balance.

You were awaken from your nap after the brothers left by your father's screaming, his hands in his hair as he paced throughout the halls of the palace. "What did you do with the prisoner?! There's no way in hell he's going to get married to you now!" Your father bellowed as you walked out of your room, shaking your shoulders out of anger. "I don't know what you're talking about," you tried to deflect from the accusation, pushing him off you when your father was called by one of the maids. He turned to give you a dirty look, walking off with the maid to do what he was beckoned to do.

A week passed by since the last time you saw Miguel, expecting him to end the marriage arrangement but it was still on. You were expecting that he end things after what he wanted, but the announcement was still set for the union of the two kingdoms. Your father was still wary behind every single one of your actions, keeping guards lingering behind you despite how sleek he thought he was being. Now it was time for the two of you to announce your engagement to the world, every member of the press surrounding the kingdoms invited to the party. Your father was stressing out over the party, making sure that everything was up to standards and that every important person had rsvp'd.

Your maids helped you to button up the dress you had on, the dress making you look like a princess from a fairytale. The red dress clinged to every single one of your curves as you headed out to the ballroom, seeing that everyone had already come inside. Miguel came over to you, offering you his arm to wrap around before he lead you inside. The reporters began taking pictures of the two of you, the flash of the cameras almost blinding you as you walked through the crowd. You sat down next to your father on the throne, Miguel standing next to you. your father welcomed the crowd, his voice echoing throughout the room as he got to the point of what the party is about.

You spent the party talking with Miguel, spending most of the afternoon by his side. "So.. why'd you keep the arrangement going despite you getting what you wanted?" You asked him once the reporters were out of earshot, taking a sip from your glass of wine. "I have my reasons, your majesty. Plus, I've been liking getting to know you," he responded, waving over for Gabriel to sit down in front of him. You saw through the corner of your eye that your father was scowling, his eyes full of bitter venom as he saw Gabriel interacting with Miguel. You turned to look back at the boys, talking to them about the things to do around the kingdom and what your favorite views were around to diverge from what your father was doing.

"May I have this dance, your highness?" Miguel asked you, extending his hand out for you to grab. You took hold of his hand, letting him guide you to the middle of the dance floor. You placed one of your hands on his shoulder, the other still in his grasp as he moved you with elegance and grace to the rhythm of the classical song playing. "I thought i told you to stop calling me your majesty," you whispered in his ear, his face contorting into a smile as he twirled you around. "Yes, but you never did say anything about your highness," he responded, the dimples on his face only deepening with the way that you grumbled.

"Where'd you learn how to dance?" You asked him, watching him as he moved in synchrony to whatever song was playing. "My mother taught me before she died. She used to say that the two most important things as a potential suitor were knowing how to dance and how to treat a woman correctly," he told you, his hand wrapped around your waist as he pulled you close to his body. You leaned in when he dipped his head down, pressing your lips against his. The cameras started surrounding the two of you but you couldn't think of anything else apart from how good and how right his lips felt against yours.

The rest of the party was uneventful, though Miguel managed to keep it interesting with his stupid jokes and remarks. One of the things that you liked the most about him was that he found a way to be funny, without even putting that much effort into the jokes he was making. He got up when his assistant came over, announcing that it was time for them to depart. He dipped his head down, his lips pressing against the back of your hand. Gabriel let out a small wolf whistle to tease him, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he made his way out of the ballroom. "I'll see you at the wedding, your highness."

While you weren't looking forward to the wedding at first, you could say that you were slowly falling in love with who and what Miguel presented himself to be. The wedding ceremony had been short, mostly just for the sake of getting the two kingdoms united rather than the unison of the two beings involved. You'd convinced your father not to do a huge party afterwards, wanting to keep it as discreet and short as possible. The ride back home to the castle was quiet, Miguel’s hand lingering on your thigh as the ring sparkled from the sun's rays. You waved at some of the citizens that had come out to see the ceremony from the outside, watching their faces light up when you acknowledged them.

"I don't think you should do that," you told Miguel just as soon as he made the motion to carry you up the stairs, feeling a bit embarrassed as you looked over at him. "And why not? You're my wife now," he responded, his brows slightly furrowed in confusion. "I just think that maybe you'll struggle too much getting me up the stairs. It's fine, I can walk," you assured him, letting out a small yelp when he took you into his arms. You wrapped your hands around his neck as he led you inside the castle with ease, his footsteps remaining even as he took you up the stairs. You were aware of the fact that he was strong, you could practically see the way his muscles bulged underneath the suits he wore but few people had done this before with you.

"Don't ever insinuate that I can't carry you around because you're too heavy. Never that, mi vida," he told you once he set you down on the bed, his lips trailing down from your chin to your neck. He left little marks in his wake, soft moans escaping from your lips as you gripped onto his hair. He stopped for a moment, holding your hips as he looked down at you. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to," he assured you, his hands gently squeezing your hips to accentuate his point. "I want you to fuck me, please."

He brought over the mirror that you changed in front of, putting in front of your bed before he went back to kissing your neck. "Look at how pretty you look. I’m gonna fuck you until your little head gets rid of those stupid ideas that you're heavy," he whispered, his teeth gently biting onto the side of your neck as he left his mark. You simply nodded in response, your mind struggling to compute the right words to respond to him. He brought you over to the bed, placing you down on your back as he pushed the skirt part of the dress up. "Such pretty white panties, are these all for me?" He asked you, his finger curling around the band of them. "All for you."

He slid them down with ease, his mouth trailing up your leg while his hand massaged the other one at the same time. He left open mouthed kisses on his way up, his lips wrapped around your thighs as he kissed the inner part. "I wanna taste your pussy so bad, but we have plenty of time for that later. The only place you'll be coming on tonight is my cock," he whispered into your skin like a promise, unbuckling his belt and sliding his pants down. He helped you with the process of taking off the wedding dress once he finished undressed, leaving you only in the garter and veil.

He pumped himself with one hand, gesturing for you turn around with the other one. You were face to face with your reflection, being able to see everything that Miguel was doing as he slowly pushed his cock inside. Though your cunt was wet from the time that he took kissing you, it still felt like he was stretching you past your every limit. Your grip on the sheets below you tightened as he pushed his cock deeper inside, your velvet walls engulfing his cock every time that he moved. He bottomed out after your pussy had opened up a bit more for him, his hand gripping the bottom of your veil to make you look up.

"You see that? You look so pretty when you're all stuffed up with my cock. I wish you could see yourself the same way that J do you," he told you, looking straight at your face in the mirror. And for a moment there, you could see yourself the same way that he saw you. You looked past the imperfections that usually tormented you, seeing yourself as someone that's worthy of everything that's happening. Miguel took his cock out and you were about to protest, his cock coming back inside killing the words in your throat. You looked at yourself in the mirror as he slowly thrusted into you, his hands now gripping the globes of your ass.

Your juices flowed down from your thighs down to the sheets as he sped up and you found yourself unable to break the gaze with him that held through the mirror. Your mouth parted as he pushed deeper inside, the tip of his cock almost near your cervix. Not only was his cock big, but the girth that it held was only providing you extra pleasure. "Such a gorgeous pussy, tightening up all around me like that," he babbled, your mouth contorting into an 'o' the faster he thrusted into you. His heavy balls slapped against your pussy every time he went inside, the angle allowing for them to hit your clit.

You brought your hand down to your clit, rubbing small circles around the nub as he thrusted into you, his pace unrelenting. While you had expected for this to be an exchange of love between the two of you, it turned out to be the result of just sheer desperation for one another. You didn't mind it though, not with the way that your back was arching as you pushed your ass back into him. You felt your vision start to blur from the tears streaming down your cheeks, his claws slightly digging into your ass. The pain contorted with the pleasure, the coil inside of you threatening to snap with how tight it was becoming.

He brought his foot up on the bed, the new angle allowing for him to hit your g-spot every time his cock went back inside of you. Your nails were digging into the sheets, your forehead covered in sweat as he fucked deeper and faster into you. "Oh fffuck, right there. Please don't stop, I'm so close," you whimpered out, your mind completely blank from anything but just coming around his cock. Your walls clamped around him tightly, the coil inside of you snapping once your walls unclenched. Your juices coated his shaft completely, some of it dripping down to the silk underneath the two of you. Miguel continued to thrust into you as he fucked you through the orgasm, his thrusts starting to get sloppy and more vigorous.

His cum painted your walls white as he came, his seed shooting deep into your cervix with the hope that you'd end up bearing his child soon. He took his cock out of your pussy, looking at your blissed out expression through the mirror before turning you over. He leaned down, giving you a small kiss on the lips when you felt his cock already starting to harden up once more for the second round. "I did say I was gonna fuck you dumb, mi amor," he whispered, his lips coming down to your neck as he sucked on the skin there.

[shanieveh]

HAUNTED BY THE GHOST OF YOU *ੈ✩‧₊˚

no matter what he does, he can never deny that you were the greatest love of his life

KAMISATO AYATO who scarcely shows real emotion, who puts on a facade of masks and fake gestures was now charming his new bride to gain her favour. He can describe his new bride with just one word. Perfect. Unlike you, who messily eats the sweets that he stole from the tea house, or laughs crazily when you tease him so. The life he now lives was one from paintings and models, standards and perfection. But it was all fake, a charade, and only in the nights in the place where you said your goodbye, can the cowardly man finally put off his mask and reveal what he truly was. A lie.

SCARAMOUCHE who did everything to have a heart, even if it meant to discard you, to never see you ever again. And now he did, but the feeling of emptiness had never been so obvious. He was now a God, just what he wanted, but he no longer can be with you even if that's what he needed. To be with a person that actually cared, that never abandoned him. Not when he was the one who left, and he always denied that he was the reason why you're gone. That you were the reason his heart now restored, had never felt this empty. But deep down he knew, that a life with you was better than this.

KAEYA who spends all his time in the tavern, doing everything to erase the pain, to escape reality. His once carefree and seemingly sly like nature was now reduced to tatters who hoped that everything that has happened was only a dream. You didn't leave him, but you did. Who wouldn't leave a loser, a coward and inferior to his brother? He couldn't even face his past nor future, he couldn't even be the man you deserve. It was so clear as to why you left, but you never knew how he would risk all for you. His identity, his titles, his very life. You didn't know how he will leave it all behind, just to see your smile again. Just for you to break his heart again.

DILUC was someone that everybody knew, and everybody was scared of.. But when you gave him that look of fear, that look of judgment, he can't help but be jealous of the ordinary townsfolk that just run up to you and be with you. But sometimes he believed it was right to scare you off. To make you think that he didn't love you. At the very least you won't be tied into the danger that comes with being with him. Even if every corner of his mansion was filled with your memories, he will survive this pain. The pain of seeing you so happy with another man, and the consequence of knowing that the both of you can never be together.

KAVEH who made you his muse. His very existence was dedicated for you. His dreams, his passions, his love it was all for you. And now he orders two ice creams, remembering how you weren't there to eat the other once. Making a portrait for the wedding you both will never have. Maybe just like last time, it was all his fault. Maybe his fate lies in always being alone, in being a failure to everyone he loves. To always say the wrong words, and doing the wrong things. And he will act like nothing happened, that nothing bad was there. Because he doesn't deserve to grieve when it is his own undoing.

ALHAITHAM believed that dreams are never real, that they are just a gist of imagination by childish youngsters. But being with you finally made him realize the beauty of it all, and losing you made him see how it can make him crazy. Seeing you there, but never touch nor feel. Loving you from afar, but never up close or near. He stands as a lone man, that had his life all planned out, who knows what he wants to do and don't. But he never planned to love you, but he did, he never planned to lose you. Easy they come, easy they go a wise man said but never added how hard it is to let go.

[ellecdc]

Come Back, Be Here (part 6)

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 5.1k

CW: mentions of past abuse/torture, amnesia, mention of Bellatrix's cursed knife (same injury Hermione received in canon), racism/bigotry, swearing x a million cuz it's Remus' POV, angst, hurt/comfort, use of Y/N

Synopsis: After sacrificing yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before, you're found on the brink of death. How will Sirius react when he finally gets his love back, only to have you snatched out from under him again?

“Where the FUCK is she?”

The headmaster calmly placed his teacup back on its saucer as the two men came barging into his office.

“Ah, Mr. Black. Mr. Lupin. Please, take a seat.” 

So, Sirius did; he took the seat, and he threw it at the wall.

“I am not fucking around old man. Where. Is. She? Where is Y/N?” He barked.

“I’m afraid I don’t know.”

Sirius stopped in his pacing.

“You don’t know!?” Remus repeated incredulously.

Dumbledore nodded.

Sirius picked up a spinning orb from the headmaster’s desk and sent it careening to the window. The windows – the damned things – were charmed not to break, but the orb did. As pieces of crystal shattered and scattered onto the floor, many sleeping portraits of previous headmasters began waking. A few stayed behind to watch the spectacle, whilst many left to find other portraits to haunt for the time being. 

“That’s not good enough.” Sirius fumed.

With a casual flick of his wand, Dumbledore righted the chair Sirius had thrown. “Why don’t you have a seat, son?”

“I am not your fucking son!” He shouted back, kicking the seat over again.

“Mr. Lupin, why don’t you encourage your friend here to calm down?” The portrait of a previous headmistress asked condescendingly. 

“Get fucked, ma’am.” Was his muttered response.

With a huff, the headmistress decided to leave as well. 

“I am so sick of being played like some pawn in this gods-awful game of yours! We are children! You fucking groomed us as students and enlisted us right out of the gates, fattening us up like cattle for slaughter!”

“Now, Mr. Black-”

“I’M NOT DONE.” Sirius roared. 

Dumbledore shifted his eyes to Remus, who kept his gaze firmly on him.

“You – you’re supposed to be this powerful wizard with years of experience. You defeated that Grindel-fuck back in the sodding dark-ages or whenever, yet somehow, this is out of your wheelhouse!?”

“Mr. Black, everyone learned from the Global Wizarding World with Grindelwald; Tom Riddle how to cheat death, and myself to enlist the help of others.” Dumbledore said.

“But you didn’t get help! You got soldiers, and we’re the ones fighting this fucking war for you! You get to sit here in this bloody castle with powerful ancient wards protecting you, drinking your tea, wanking to the portraits of the other headmasters in your spare time, while the rest of us get their fucking heads blown off!

“We’re the ones being captured. We’re the ones being tortured. We’re the ones being killed. We’re the ones with blood on our hands fighting for our fucking lives, everyday! Bouncing from safe-house to safe-house whilst never being safe. And you know! You’ve known there was a spy, you’ve had contacts on the other side, but you give us nothing. You just send us off on these fucking missions, blind, and we all have to hope that that’s enough. That we’ll live to see another day. That we’ll make it home to our loved ones.”

Sirius paused to catch his breath. “You will not get away with using her like this, not anymore, not by me.”

Dumbledore’s crystal blue eyes bore into Sirius’ stormy grey ones. After a few moments, he offered him a subtle nod. 

“Where is she?” He repeated, quieter this time.

“Sirius, the truth is that I do not know.”

Sirius groaned. “How can you not know!? Fine, fine. Who is your contact? Apparently, someone who was in league with the Black’s for the stupid fucking house-elf to betray me like this. So, who is it? Narcissa? Finally tired of the bleach fumes from that husband of hers? It can’t be Bellatrix.” 

Dumbledore pursed his lips as he considered Sirius.

“It’s not Bellatrix, is it?” He asked in quiet disbelief. 

“No, son, it is not Bellatrix.”

“’Kay well, tell me who it is, then. Reg’s dead so you’re leaving me with dear old Cissy here.” 

Dumbledore leaned onto his forearms on his desk as he peered at Sirius over his half-moon spectacles. 

“A house-elf will always be the most loyal to the head of the house it serves.” 

Sirius scoffed. “Yeah, well my house-elf just up and fucked-off with the love of my life so I’d say his loyalty doesn’t exactly align with...me...” He trailed off as something seemed to dawn on him. 

“Unless I’m not the head of the house.” 

Remus’ neck snapped as he whipped his head to regard his friend. 

“The deed and the vault at Gringotts were all moved to you, Sirius, you’re the head of the house.” 

Sirius never pulled his gaze away from the headmaster. “Goblins can be tricked, and deeds can be forged.” He whispered. “But house-elf magic...” 

Dumbledore leaned back into his chair. 

“But Regulus is dead. He was pronounced dead – your mother offed herself because he was pronounced dead.” Remus argued. 

“He was assumed dead.” Dumbledore corrected.

“Holy fucking shit.” Sirius breathed. 

“Regulus has been in contact with me since this past spring. It appears that Miss. L/N was the turning point for him in this war.”

Sirius stared in bafflement. “What do you...” 

“You may, one day, need to discuss with your brother. However, what he explained to me,” Dumbledore started. “Is that he had discovered Riddle’s secret of the horcruxes after becoming increasingly disenchanted by his rhetoric. He was intent on defeating Riddle himself, but came to me when he found Y/N.” 

The colour drained from Remus’ face. “You knew? All this time.”

Dumbledore turned his gaze to the lycanthrope. 

“You knew!?” He repeated.

“You must understand, I could not remove her from Riddle’s ranks without rousing suspicion from the other Death Eaters who knew she was there. We were also becoming increasingly aware of a spy within our ranks and could not jeopardize the intel by alerting the Death Eaters of our own spy.” 

“I can’t fucking believe this.” Sirius cried out. “You let her suffer there so you could keep the upper hand!”

“It was for the greater good.”

“Fuck that!” Sirius barked. “Fuck that and fuck you!”

“You do not understand how differently this could have all played out without her, Sirius.” 

Remus scoffed. “Oh the ‘could’s’, professor, really? We can sit here until our dying breath discussing all of the fucking could’s that could have taken place from the beginning of fucking time itself and it would mean nothing.” 

“I don’t care what could have happened.” Sirius interjected. “You should have protected her. Protected all of us.” 

Dumbledore looked between his two former students as he seemed to come to some kind of decision. 

“The five horcruxes that Y/N brought us have been destroyed. I do not want to give Riddle time to realize that they are gone. I have discussed with our allies what will need to happen next.” Dumbledore stated.

“And what will need to happen next, professor?” Sirius sneered. 

“It appears that Mr. Pettigrew told Riddle he would be the secret keeper by their next meeting.” Dumbledore said as Sirius swallowed bile rising in his throat. “I believe it would be best to lure Riddle out when he does not feel the need for an army.” 

Remus leaned forward in his chair. “How do we do that?”

Dumbledore pursed his lips. “It would be best if Riddle remained unaware of our knowledge of Peter.”

“I think he’s going to figure it out when he misses their next club meeting.” Sirius scoffed. 

“Unless he goes.” Remus murmured. 

“Over my dead body do we release that rat bastard.” Sirius growled. 

“I agree, Mr. Black, I do not believe we should entrust Peter. However, there may be another way.”

Sirius looked at Dumbledore blankly. “Tell me, headmaster, do you plan on breaking out some unforgiveables? Because short of imperio, I’m not sure-”

“Polyjuice.” Remus blurted.

Sirius whipped his head to his friend in shock, whilst a twinkle of pride appeared in Dumbledore’s eye. 

“We could keep up the ruse.” Remus explained. 

“I’ll go.” Sirius claimed.

Remus groaned. “Pads, do you really think you’re the best person for this job?”

Sirius looked at Remus with a look of ill-hidden betrayal. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sirius, this is the most sensitive mission possibly anyone will ever have to take. You are passionate but you have a tendency to go in guns blazing and this is not the setting.” 

“I’ll be fine.” Sirius argued.

“You are going to hear and see things that will infuriate and you will not be able to react. You will have to put your morals aside.” 

“Rem, honestly, I grew up with the pureblood bullshit, I can handle it.” Sirius insisted.

“It nearly killed you, Pads. I was there when you showed up at the Potter’s.”

“Remus, I’m going.”

“Perhaps it should be me.” Remus stated as if Sirius hadn’t said anything at all.

“Are you insane?”

“Obviously the answer to that is yes but listen: no one would be able to use legillimency on me due to lunar magic, I stand a better chance at keeping a level head, and I’m perhaps just a touch less emotionally invested in this than you are.” Remus argued.

“Besides,” he continued, “I’ve spent my entire life pretending that I’m not a monster. I’m sure I can pretend to be one for a little bit.”

“You’re not a monster.” Sirius sighed.

Remus gave him a sad smile. “See? I’ve fooled you all.”

Dumbledore hummed. “I think Mr. Lupin may be right, Sirius. Perhaps you should trust him with this.”

“Of course I trust him, but-” Sirius started, turning to look at Remus. “I can’t lose you too.” He admitted quietly.

Though the sentiment caused a twinge of pain in Remus’ chest, he couldn’t waste an opportunity to razz his mate. “Awe, Pads. Don’t tell me you’re gonna miss me.” He cheeked as he pinched Sirius’ arm. 

“Oh, sod off you wanker.” Sirius muttered and crossed his arms. 

“I suppose it’s settled.” Dumbledore claimed. “Please await my correspondence with further instructions.”

October 29th

“I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this.” James could be heard muttering as he paced the family room of 12 Grimmauld Place. 

“Why isn’t Dumbledore doing this himself?” Lily muttered darkly. 

“I’m not leaving Y/N in his hands, not again.” Sirius murmured into his hand as he stared at the fire. “It should be me going. Remus, I should go.” 

With a sigh, Remus stood from the wingback chair. “No, Pads. It’s too late to change the plan now. It’s going to be fine.”

Sirius shook his head and looked at the ceiling. 

“She’s fucking strong, Sirius. And she’s got more people on her side this time. We’re gonna finish this.” Remus pressed.  

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed and everyone took a steadying breath. 

“Be careful, Rem.” Lily tearfully murmured as she gave him a hug. 

“I hate this.” James repeated just as quietly as he too hugged the lycanthrope. 

Remus smiled at them both before he moved to Sirius, who had shifted his gaze back to the fire. 

“We’re close, Pads.” He whispered.

Sirius nodded, keeping his gaze on the fire. “Thank you, Moony. For going after her.”

“She’s pack.” Remus said simply causing Sirius to let out a shuddering breath.

“Be careful.”

Remus nodded in agreement and took a swig from his pocket flask. He grunted slightly as he felt his body shifting and changing, but it was nothing close to the pain he experienced every full moon. 

Sirius, Lily, and James all looked in various levels of disgust as Remus – now in the form of Peter Pettigrew – stood to his full height. “How do I look?”

The three friends looked at each other awkwardly before turning back to Remus...Peter?

“Fuck, this is weird.” James muttered.

“Yeah, honestly mate, I think you should go.” Sirius agreed.

Remus rolled his eyes. “You know I’m not actually him, right?”

Lily grimaced. “Yeah, yeah Judas. Get going.” 

Sirius and James looked at her inquisitively, but Remus snorted a laugh offering everyone a wave as he stepped into the street. He walked a short distance to a hidden alleyway where he could apparate to the location of the Death Eater meeting. Remus sent one silent prayer to any god who’d listen. 

Please let this go smoothly. 

 Lestrange Manor loomed dauntingly in front of Remus as he tried to muster the courage to walk up the brick path leading to the door. Purebloods and their gaudy houses he mused silently.

“Petty-Pettigrew!” A voice sing-songed behind him, causing him to turn. 

Barty Crouch Jr skipped towards him merrily as if he were an alt-punk Dorothy on his way to Oz. He paused in front of Remus and tapped his cheek twice, slightly too hard to be considered just condescending and bordering on aggressive. “How’s our favourite little rat?”

Remus grimaced but tried to play it off as a smile. “Er, I’m-”

“Oh, Salazar. No, I don’t actually care.” Barty chuckled, looking back at his entourage like can you believe this guy? His friendly façade fell as he turned back to Remus. “Better have something for the Dark Lord today, otherwise we’ll find other uses for our little lab rat.” He finished with a slimy wink as he continued up the path to the manor. 

Well, Remus thought, welcome to Hell, I suppose. 

He followed Barty The Deranged and company up the walkway, fighting the urge to hum: We’re off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz as he went.

If Remus thought the outside of Lestrange Manor was counteracting the anti-depressants coursing through his system, the inside of it made him want to grab the closest silver fork and end it all. He walked along what had to be a fourty-foot table trying to find the best seat before he realized that this was the wrong approach – every seat was terrible.

“Don’t be absurd, Pettigrew.” Mulciber sneered at Remus. “A lowly like you stands at the back.”

Remus fought the urge to roll his eyes and nodded, moving to stand near the wall by the door. At least I’ll be close if I need a quick exit. He also fought the biting urge to lunge at the sight of Fenrir Greyback. You’re here for a reason, Lupin.

Rodolphus, Rabastan, and Bellatrix Lestrange entered the...Remus didn’t know what the hell purebloods wont to call rooms like this...a grand room? A dining room? A reception hall? Whatever it was called, it fucking sucked, and it sucked worse when those three walked in. The brothers mostly regarded themselves with proper decorum, but Bellatrix and her certain flare seemed to suck the air out of the room causing everyone to stand a little more at attention. 

Bellatrix Lestrange walked like she was the Queen of Hearts attending her own coronation. She smiled wickedly at those seated around the table, pausing briefly to share terse words with Lucius Malfoy, before then double-cheek-kissing his wife and her sister, Narcissa. 

There seemed to be some sort of disagreement about who should sit in one of the two seats at the head of the table next to the Dark Lord’s seat (throne for all intents and purposes), but a silent conversation that passed between Bellatrix and her brother-in-law resulted in the latter finding another chair.  

Voldemort walked into the room and those who had been sitting stood suddenly, falling deathly silent as Voldemort moved to stand at the head of the table. The sickening smell of dark magic accosted Remus who felt his eyes water; he swallowed hard against his gag reflex as a giant python type snake slithered its way into the room.

If there was ever any speculation that Nagini was the sixth horcrux before, Remus now felt confident that he could confirm it.

“My Lord.” Rodolphus said reverently as he bowed his head. Remus watched as the rest of the room did the same, and quickly followed suit – he wanted to throw up. 

Remus’ plan of attack here was to be as non-descript as possible. He was here for one reason – tell Voldemort he was the secret keeper and plan a course of ‘attack’ on the Potter home in Godric’s Hollow – otherwise, he was to be invisible. He could not be invisible if he was angry, and if he listened too closely, he’d get angry, so...

He almost missed it when Voldemort addressed him.

“Now, I trust that you were successful in your task?” Voldemort’s voice echoed through the room, sounding more like an actor in a Greek tragedy than a tyrannical fascist leader addressing his followers.

A throat cleared before something hit Remus on the shin. He looked up and realised everyone’s eyes were on him. 

“Oh erm, uh yes. My apologies...my Lord...” He tried to regain his footing. “Uhm, I was successful. I am officially the Potter’s secret keeper.”

Bellatrix barely waited until the end of the sentence to stand and begin cackling maniacally. “We’re going to kill the child! We’re going to kill the child!” She sang as she jumped and clapped her hands. 

Voldemort hardly spared Bellatrix a sideways gaze as he lifted one hand – she fell silent and returned to her seat, continuing to smile and wiggle as if it were difficult to keep her obvious joy at bay. 

“Though I appreciate your enthusiasm,” he began, “I’d like to eliminate this specific threat myself.” 

By the end of the sentence, he was offering Remus a chilling smile. Remus worked to keep his breathing even as he tried to reciprocate it. 

“Where is this hide away located?” Voldemort asked.

“Erm, Godric’s Hollow, m’Lord.”

“You will take me to them. You shall meet me in the town square at eight in the evening the day after tomorrow. We shall eliminate this threat to me once and for all.” 

“Any threat to you is a threat to all of us, my Lord.” Alecto Carrow said severely which was met with a muttering of agreement from around the table.

“You will all be rewarded greatly for your dedication and loyalty to me.” Voldemort declared, and Bellatrix began a round of applause. 

The meeting carried on and Remus ensured to take two more swigs of the Polyjuice potion to avoid turning back into himself prematurely. 

A black cat had materialized beside Remus at some point throughout the meeting and appeared to make itself at home beside his left foot. The feline seemed to watch as Remus would lift the flask to his mouth, and he became increasingly paranoid that this cat somehow knew he was an imposter. Was this cat a spy? Was this a spy cat who somehow knew Peter was caught for being a spy for the Death Eaters and that I, as a spy, came to this meeting as Peter as a spy for the Order pretending to be Peter who was acting as a spy for the Death Eaters.

Fuck, Remus was losing it.

Get a grip you stupid bastard. He scolded himself. 

The meeting appeared to conclude as Voldemort stood, and everyone followed suit. A few higher pointing Death Eaters seemed to congregate at the head of the table – Malfoy, the Lestranges, Mulciber, Snape, Nott, Goyle, and the Carrows encircled Voldemort. 

Remus began looking for the door when he felt the cat brush up against his leg. He looked down to the black cat who was peering back up at him – the eyes were light, nearly blue but not quite – and they looked disturbingly familiar. The cat seemed to be cocking an eyebrow at him, if cats could do such a thing, as Remus considered it.

“What?” Remus whispered.

“Make a habit o’ talkin’ to rodents, do ye Pettigrew?” The sickening sound of Greyback’s voice permeated Remus' hearing – as well as his other senses. Suddenly, Remus was four years old again, waking to the sound of screaming that turned out the be his own as a wolf locked its jaw upon his chest. He ignored the stinging in his eyes as he thought of his mothers screams and sobs, begging the healers to do something – anything – to help her boy, whilst everyone murmured it’d be kindest to just ‘put the boy out of his misery’. 

“I do, actually,” Remus said, lacing his words with venom. “I’ve found they often make better company than a mangey wolf.” 

Greyback seemed taken aback as he considered Remus. 

“Why you little-”

“Ah, there you are, Splash.” A posh accent commented from Remus’ other side. He turned to see the form of Narcissa Malfoy bending to pick up the black cat. 

“Good work, Pettigrew.” She commented as Splash weaseled its way back out of Narcissa’s arms and took a few paces to the door. “Don’t let us keep you.” 

Remus nodded at Narcissa, feeling off kilter at her cordial behaviour; he couldn’t imagine Peter ever making friends with the likes of her. He moved toward the door and as he walked, he realized that the cat had paused and was watching Remus before carrying on ahead. 

Remus felt like he could finally take a deep breath once he stepped beyond the gated entrance of the manor. His peace didn’t last long when he realized the cat had paused again and was once again watching him.

“Seriously, what the hell do you want?” He muttered quietly.

The cat looked as though it rolled its eyes at him as he walked a few more feet ahead, turning back to Remus.

“Are you expecting me to follow you? I’m not as dumb as I look.” He commented again, though realizing too late that he may actually be as dumb as he looks, seeing as he was currently talking to a cat. 

He heard a low growl emanate from the cat’s chest before it turned and walked away without turning back this time to confirm Remus was following it. 

“It seems as though curiosity may kill the wolf today.” Remus muttered to himself as he begrudgingly followed the cat against every one of his instincts which were screaming at him to just get the fuck out of there.  

The cat stopped in a densely wooded area and seemed to scan the are before turning back to Remus, who in turn stood and stared at the cat dumbly. 

“I don’t see a pentagram anywhere, is this not where you plan to sacrifice me to the devil?” He asked as he too scanned the woods for potential threats.

“Salazar, you Gryffindor’s are bloody exhausting.” A voice rang through the woods. Remus whipped his head back towards the sound, and where the cat once stood was none other than Regulus Black.

“Holy fucking shit. You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

Regulus rolled his eyes, “and so eloquent, as always.” He muttered.

“What the fuck are you doing here? You’re supposed to be dead.” Remus seethed.

“Disappointed, are you?”

Remus gritted his teeth. “Where’s Y/N?”

Regulus’ eyes softened considerably, though his posture remained stiff as he considered Remus.

“Safe. That is all you need to know.” 

“Fuck that, Black. Where is she?” 

Regulus sucked in a breath, appearing to attempt to steady himself at having to deal with the likes of Remus. 

“The Dark Lord’s followers became aware that she was not as dead as they had previously assumed. We could not risk them searching for her.” Regulus admitted.

“How could they have known she wasn’t dead? The only person who could have reported that to them is Peter and he’s a little tied up right now.” Remus said darkly.

“My cousin’s little art project on her arm was done with a cursed blade – the dark magic left a trace on her. When Yaxley tried to claim that she had died while trying to escape from his hold instead of admitting he let her get away, Bellatrix was quick to prove him wrong.”

“What?” Remus asked in shock.

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Good gods, which of you imbeciles did that old man send?” He asked before casting a quick finite over Remus. 

Remus felt the Polyjuice potion wash away from his form as he stretched out to his correct height. 

“Aren’t you wolves supposed to have superhuman hearing?” He asked condescendingly. 

“Fuck off.” Remus spat. 

“Now, now. There is no need for such language, Lupin; we are on the same side, after all.”

“Like fuck we are. You’re a marked Death Eater, and you abducted Y/N.” He spat. 

“I think it should be obvious by now that I have clearly defected here, Lupin.” Regulus responded.

“Why?”

This seemed to catch Regulus off guard. “Pardon?”

“Why defect?”

Remus watched as Regulus stared hard at him, when suddenly a filmy haze seemed to overtake Regulus’ grey eyes and his face grew hard. 

“I hardly think that is relevant.” 

The two men stared at each other sizing one another up. 

Remus felt conflicted. He knew Sirius hated his family, but Sirius never really could bring himself to hate Regulus – he was only a child, just like Sirius was. Regulus was a victim too. They were each dealt a shitty hand, but the way they played their cards were different. Regulus chose the path of least resistance by adapting and adhering to his parent’s wishes. Sirius rebelled, pushed back, and decided to fold, leaving the game altogether. 

Sirius wanted to hate Regulus; when he got his Dark Mark, and then again when he died. But he couldn’t bring himself to, because part of it felt like it was his fault; Regulus took the role that Sirius himself was born into – and in many ways, Sirius felt as though he forced his little brother into this. And in the end, it cost Regulus his life. 

But Remus, looking at Regulus now; having faked his own death, defected from not only his family’s legacy but also the reign of the 'Lord' that he had sworn himself to, all whilst helping the other side; how different were the two brothers, really? 

Twin Renegades. 

“Sirius is beside himself.” Remus admitted quietly. 

Regulus seemed pained by this admission.

“I wouldn’t have given her back yet if I knew it wasn’t safe.”

Remus’ heart stuttered. “Wait, you – you’re the one who brought her to Godric’s Hollow?”

He was responded with a single curt nod.

“But, but how? How did you know? The house is...”

“Y/N. She had described to me what she called ‘location seven’. I apparated her there.” 

Remus balked. Each Order team had several secret locations they would be able to travel to in case anything went sideways during a mission. Remus wasn’t as familiar, seeing as he was the only Order member who could attend his particular missions, but he had heard his friends discussing it before. Even Lily and Sirius didn’t know the areas of James and your secret locations; they were for your safety, and your safety only.

“Location seven was the cottage in Godric’s Hollow?”

“No, it was the wooded area behind it. I could feel the familiar sense of a fidelius charm nearby, so I brought her as close to it as I could before I ran, we...” Regulus heaved a sigh, “we had fought our way out, we’d barely made it.” 

“Where is she now?”

“She’s safe.”

“Regulus.”

“I’m sorry, Lupin. You may not believe me, but I am. I... I saved her because I could not watch the woman my brother loved die in front of me. I saved her for him, but the other’s discovered I had rescued her, and suddenly it became much bigger than him. I couldn’t just return her at the time.” Regulus admitted.

“The last time you saved her, she was hardly safe. How do we know she’s safe now?” Remus pleaded.

Regulus grimaced. “Again, the others had known I had rescued her last time. This time, they do not know she is here. They do not even know I am here.” 

“How is she safer with you than she is at home with Sirius? With us?”

“You moved five members of the Order plus an infant with a bounty on its head into one house. If they had gone searching for Y/N and found you, it would have been devastating for the cause.” He explained. “Listen; you will escort the Dark Lord to the Potter’s cottage in two days. He plans to attend with you as Peter Pettigrew, alone; he will show up unknowingly out numbered. He goes nowhere without Nagini, and we will be able to destroy the last horcrux before finally ending the Dark Lord’s reign of tyranny. She will be home to you soon.”

“What about you?” Remus asked.

Regulus’ eyebrows furrowed. “What about me?”

“When this is over, what about you?”

Regulus looked Remus up and down. “I hardly think it matters.”

“Of course it does; of course you matter.” 

Regulus’ eyes turned stormy. “Do not pretend to know anything about me, Lupin. I have never once mattered; not to my brother, hardly to my parents until I was the last one standing, never to Dumbledore, and rarely to the Dark Lord, lest my family’s money benefitted his cause.” 

“You matter to Sirius.”

“Enough!” Regulus shouted, seeming to forget himself. Remus was sure he’d never even heard of Regulus having ever raised his voice before. “Do not fuck this up, Lupin. We have one chance to end this.” 

And with a quick spin, Remus was left in the dense woods alone. He hadn’t noticed how late it was until now, the darkness seeping into his bones leaving him chilled in the late October evening. 

It didn’t exactly go well, but it sure could have gone a lot worse.

He walked towards where Regulus had been standing and noticed a small piece of parchment laying in the wet leaves. He picked it up and unfolded it. 

“Stay safe. 1, 2, 3. V.” 

It could have gone a lot worse.

October 30th

Regulus sighed – he felt exhausted from the meeting with Remus Lupin yesterday. He hated raising his temper, it made him feel like Sirius; it made him feel like a Gryffindor. 

Regulus’ cat form pushed past a vine covered gate and entered a grandiose stone outbuilding before shifting back to his human form.

“Can Kreacher get master a drink before Kreacher leaves?”

Regulus sighed. “You should not return until this is over, Kreacher. My brother is surely not happy with you.”

The house-elf scoffed. “Kreacher is not afraid of blood-traitors. Besides, Kreacher serves the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black; Kreacher belongs at Grimmauld Place.” 

“Underestimate my brother, Kreacher, and it will be your head on the wall.” Regulus muttered.

“Now cousin, do try to keep your patience.” Narcissa said as she opened the door to her hidden library located in a small building behind the gardens of Malfoy Manor. 

You sat on a Victorian style settee in Narcissa’s library with a babbling Draco on your knee as you cast colourful butterflies above him, causing the toddler to coo and clap. 

“We’re in.” Regulus announced, causing your head to snap forward and Draco to make grabby hands at him. “This ends tomorrow.”

Continue to part seven here.

[batneko]

I've been watching Luigi's Mansion videos so here's another bowuigi idea:

King Boo took over an abandoned building and managed to lure in and capture a bunch of Luigi's friends. As Luigi's making his way through he finds a portrait of Bowser, of all people. At first Luigi is like Not My Problem, but his conscience gets the better of him and he goes back to free him.

Turns out the abandoned building was one Bowser Jr. liked to use for graffiti practice, and Bowser got caught when he came looking for him. Luigi finds this out because as soon as he's free Bowser grabs him and starts demanding where his son is and what kind of petty trick is this and all this must be Mario's fault somehow! It isn't until he tosses Luigi aside and declares he'll tear the whole building down that Luigi manages to get a word in edgewise.

Normally he'd be all in favor of destroying the building because it's haunted and he hates it here, but he's not sure what'll happen to his friends OR Junior if Bowser accidentally takes the portraits down along with the walls. Bowser is like "I don't take orders from you! But... uh, if you know what's going on I guess I could let you fill me in."

Luigi does, Bowser storms off to do slightly less destroying, and Luigi finds him in another painting two rooms later.

After that Bowser decides he's in charge but he'll allow Luigi to take point. There's not much he can do against ghosts, and he's too big to use the Poltergust, but having him along helps Luigi feel less scared. If he's grabbed by something or caught in a trap, Bowser can just grab him right back. And there's no need to find hidden doors since Bowser can tear through most indoor walls without breaking a sweat.

They find Junior before Mario, and Bowser is like "okay thanks for the assistance, loser. Bye." Leaving Luigi alone again. He hadn't expected anything else but it still doesn't feel great. But when Luigi is cornered by a floor boss, Bowser ends up smashing through a window and coming to his rescue.

He says he only did it because it'll be funny to tell Mario he owes him one, but Luigi thanks him anyway.

They keep going as a team, even fighting King Boo together ("You thought I was gonna let you get away with kidnapping MY kid and harassing MY- ... rival's brother?") but when Luigi goes to finally free Mario from the last portrait Bowser makes an excuse and dips. Didn't he say this was all just so he could rub it in Mario's face?

Later, once everything is over and everybody's home, Junior sends Luigi a drawing of him and Bowser fighting ghosts. Luigi pins it to his fridge.

[smokestarrules]

Why Caleb & Evelyn’s Absence is Good Writing

So if you don’t know me, I’m a big fan of Caleb and Evelyn (Clawthorne. Because I’m sure). I’m fascinated with their story -- I wrote an entire fic about them in 2022 before we even knew Evelyn’s name -- and I find them both incredibly interesting considering what is both shown about them and not. Despite that, I had a feeling that neither of them would make an appearance in Watching and Dreaming, and I was right. 

Understandably so, some people were disappointed with that decision, that they were hoping for an entire flashback scene or something close to it. But while that also appeals to me -- oh my god does it appeal to me -- I also really enjoy the intangibility of it all. 

So, I have three reasons as to why I like that Caleb and Evelyn didn’t show up again, which I’ll go through in no particular order. The rest of this post will be under a cut because it’ll probably get pretty lengthy. 

1) Haunting The Narrative

Half of Caleb and Evelyn’s intrigue comes from the fact that in the end, we really  don’t know all that much about them. Everything that we do know is from second-hand accounts at best and the rest of their story is up to your own singular interpretation; we only know the bare bones of their tale, but at the same time, they’re both extremely monumental to the main plot of the show. 

They’re hardly ever shown centered on-screen (in Evelyn’s case, never), and again, despite their huge impact on the characters and world even 400 years later, it’s part of their charm that... they’re mysterious. You’re not meant to know much about them, not meant to perceive them as normal characters. Caleb never speaks in the show, Evelyn hardly even appears, and in the end, they’re not meant to be understood. 

Caleb seems to have undergone some semblance of a redemption, but that’s only alluded to considering how he ends up dead; the implied is everything, and getting a concrete answer would, in my opinion, ruin part of what makes this story so fascinating. 

Of course, the biggest argument I’ve seen against this idea is that casual viewers of the show, the ones who don’t care about combing the background of Hollow Mind for lore about Emperor Belos’ big brother, will be confused without the lack of context. And... I disagree. 

Sure, maybe some people haven’t seen the portraits from Hollow Mind, but they’ve certainly seen Caleb when Gus went through Philip’s mind in King’s Tide. Maybe they missed the book about Grimwalkers in Labyrinth Runners, but they definitely caught Caleb in Philip’s diary during Elsewhere and Elsewhen. Then, in Thanks to Them, there’s an entire scene in which Masha very kindly gives an entire summary on the topic, tipping off both the main characters and anyone else in the audience who may be confused. 

The story’s all there, both in the background and in the forefront of the show, and it’s weaved in so beautifully that it’s hard for me to believe that anyone would see Caleb in For the Future (of which is a scene I will be talking about soon) and have absolutely no idea who he is. 

So in the end, I think having a more clear understanding of the going-ons that set everything into motion would be almost doing a disservice to the fans who have spent their time piecing things together and it’s also not really necessary in the first place. It’d be nice, and I’m sure I would have gone even more insane with more to analyze, but with the way this show has always portrayed Caleb and Evelyn, them fading into obscurity in the final episode just seems... fitting. 

2) Philip Doesn’t Really Deserve Closure

It’s a simple fact: Philip Wittebane is kind of a fucked-up guy. 

Besides a flashback scene, another idea for a potential Caleb and Evelyn appearance that I saw tossed around most was this: it’s the end, Philip’s about to be defeated, and in the interim, he sees his brother one last time. 

Either he’s given forgiveness or not, Caleb being present at his lowest moment would undoubtedly mean something to Philip; over the centuries he’s spent a significant amount of time trying to remake his brother -- to make him better -- and no matter how you feel about him, Philip is a tortured soul. Perhaps Caleb could help him accept his inevitable death, perhaps he could have one last chance for Philip to have a moment of genuine vulnerability. 

He’d die with the ghost of his brother and the ghost of his brother’s wife looking over him, and he’d die content... maybe. 

Or you can go the other route: 

On the other hand, maybe Philip goes to his death kicking and screaming the whole way, with Caleb and Evelyn staring him down as he’s ultimately annihilated for good. The tale of two brothers is over, and while Caleb is the one who perished first, centuries ago now, it’s Philip who is undoubtedly the one who loses in the end. 

The last thing Philip sees is his brother’s hateful, tired face, and he dies with that image. 

Of course, that’s the one that sounds better to me; Philip is not a villain you could ever redeem (a cruel upbringing will not excuse everything) and to even make an attempt at it would feel cheap and be completely unaligned with ToH’s core values, which actively (and correctly) condemn people like him. 

The problem with both of these ideas, different as they are, is that both of them give Philip a sense of closure that he simply does not deserve to have been rewarded with. Either way, he knows for sure how his brother would feel about him -- or, at the very least, how he believes his brother should feel about him -- and it’s just that, the knowing, that rubs me the wrong way. 

In the end, the last time Philip sees his brother is in this scene in For the Future, and it’s safe to say that there’s no actual closure or anything close to it here. Whether or not you believe this is actually Caleb or just Philip hallucinating him (personally I subscribe to the latter), it doesn’t really matter because the idea stays the same. 

Philip spends this scene snarling curses at his unyielding brother -- who seems to be, notably, his younger self, given his hair length -- while also actively melting away in front of his eyes. Philip is the one who’s alive, Philip is the one who (he believes) is on the right side of history, and yet Philip is also the one on his knees, his entire body disintegrating slowly due to his own choices. 

As the episode continues, it’s shown that Philip is seeing Caleb and the other Grimwalkers that he’s likely killed as well, and they’re clearly more of a taunt to his already-collapsing mental state than anything else. Again I reassert my opinion that they’re not actually there, that they’re simply Philip hallucinating in one of his weakest moments yet, and because of that, there is no answer given. 

They stare; he tells them to “Shut up” and they don’t react in the slightest. They watch and they stare and they dare him to care about them in any way and the entire scene is just... a precipice. Eventually they disappear for good, and Philip moves on without even trying to process this phenomenon. 

Basically what I'm saying is that Caleb appearing in Philip’s last moments would give him too much credit. And that actually leads us right into the final point I want to make, which is this: 

3) Caleb Wasn’t Actually That Important To Philip 

In the long run, at the very least. 

Now hear me out. When I say ‘important’, I don’t mean that what happened with Caleb didn’t have long-lasting effects on Philip, because that’s simply not true; otherwise, my entire last point would be meaningless. Obviously, it’s Caleb (and to a lesser extent, Evelyn) who can be credited with initially setting Philip down this path; Caleb was probably the most stable thing in Philip’s early life, and losing him in a way that felt like abandonment -- and then killing him -- is undoubtedly something that would stick with you for a lifetime, 400 years or not. 

But Caleb’s death is also largely an excuse. 

Much in the same way that “saving humanity” is an excuse for Philip to commit the atrocities he does, Caleb’s betrayal pushing him towards that path and his subsequent attempts at bringing him back are also an excuse. 

Here’s the thing: if Philip was genuinely passionate about remaking his brother -- but better -- then he’d care about the Grimwalkers more than he does. If Philip actually considered every Grimwalker a potential Caleb that he could just fix, then he would not have been able to dispose of them so coldly. There’s dozens of their corpses piled under the Skull, yet he only even commits to memory a rare few. Even Hunter, the closest to Caleb a Grimwalker’s ever gotten, was given a Sigil! A Sigil, which tells me that no matter what, no matter how perfect Hunter may have turned out, Philip was never going to let him survive the Day of Unity. 

True, there’s definitely a part of Philip that hates the Grimwalkers because they can’t be Caleb, at least not in the way he thinks he needs (which is impossible, but I digress) there’s also a part that I think is just... carrying on because this is what he’s done for the past few centuries. It’d feel like giving up on himself to give up on the prospect of having Caleb beside him again, but there’s no passion anymore. 

In the end, I think Papa Titan said it best:

“...That man doesn’t care about anything but his need to be the hero in his own delusion.” 

That’s exactly it. Philip believes himself as the hero of the story, as someone who’s been suffering for centuries but will one day finally get the ending that he deserves. He goes through all of this not because he wants to go home and not because he wishes he could return to the life he and his brother once had, but because he so desperately wants to believe in the delusion that he is a person doing all the things he does for good. 

You don’t live for over 400 years working towards a singular moment without at least having the thought that maybe what you’re doing is incorrect. But Philip has never let those supposed doubts stop him, and by the time the series is ending, nothing matters except his goal -- to see the destruction of every last witch and demon on the Boiling Isles.  

Which is why, in this final scene of his, there’s not a single mention of his brother. His brother, who he’s spent the last 400 years trying to save; his brother, who, by learning to be better, essentially kickstarted Philip’s entire goal, but it became so twisted so quickly as Philip subconsciously decided that he was the only one who could ever fix things. 

To put it simply: Philip’s only ever been concerned with himself. His idea of morality, his vision of the Boiling Isles, his opinions on the witches that live there. Nothing else matters; Caleb is a crutch to fall back on and so is the idea that Philip’s saving anyone, it’s all just more vindication to feed into his hero complex, because he’s the only one that really matters. He’s human and Luz is human and so they’re redeemable, but he stopped seeing Caleb as human the moment he saw him with Evelyn. 

In the end, I feel as if it’s almost safe to say that Caleb and Evelyn as constructs are more important to the all-encompassing plot than they are to Philip specifically; they set him on his path, sure, but his descent into madness almost feels inevitable, death of his brother or not. He blames his own misfortune on them, and the fact that they're never quite seen makes Philip’s villainous qualities that much more emphasized, I think. 

Overall, I loved Watching and Dreaming and I loved ToH and I think the characters of Caleb and Evelyn are some of the most haunting I’ve ever encountered, literally and metaphorically. 

Their story is largely up in the air, but it still gets told, you just have to look for it. That's their charm, that’s why they’re interesting to me, and that’s why I am content with getting the amount we got of them. 

[martyfromgiant]

i’m so proud to see that every piece of sapphic media is better and more validating than the last. a league of their own showed the pain of being queer in the 40s and how hard it was to hide. but they didn’t make it the whole story, they still showed the joy and the fight to be together, not just the misery. they still showed greta and carson being accepted by their community, things we didn’t get to see with shows like stranger things. sure we get to see them accepted by peers, but no people that truly get it. the show was also made by queer people for queer people and wasn’t seen through the male gaze or fetishized at all. we also bet to see black queer relationships in the 40s which is huge.

with first kill, we see a relationship that isn’t all about coming out and the struggle of being queer. the problem outsiders had with their relationship wasn’t that they were both women or that one was a black woman, it was that they were dating their sworn enemy.

with the wilds, we got to see queer relationships and relationships between young girls evolve and develop during difficult times. it really harped on the concept of girl power and female relationships. it focused on girls being themselves and having safe spaces to discover who they are.

with killing eve, we got to see the dark side of ourselves being explored and once again, the problem people have isn’t that eve is dating another woman, it’s that she’s dating a psychopath and murderer.

with the haunting of bly manor, the queer relationship isn’t questioned, they’re too busy fighting ghosts. it’s a relationship not shown through the male gaze or fetishized at all.

it’s so nice to know that queer media doesn’t stop at shows like atypical or movies like portrait of a lady on fire. while yes, they are good pieces of media, there are so many new things out that more holistically represent the sapphic experience. it’s refreshing to be able to see yourself on screen when it was never an option before. this is why people are so upset about cancellations, our validation and representation is being taken away. it fucking sucks and you can’t fully grasp that until you have experienced it.

i could talk about this stuff for hours on end but this is really my only outlet. this is the only place people really understand, where people have absorbed the media i have absorbed and those people are just as obsessed as i am. it feels good to have a community of people that understand and want to relate to me.

[hookhausenschips]

Masterpiece (Songfic Mini Series)

Word Count: 1,262

Summary: Tyler comes to terms with his mistakes. Can he be forgiven?

Warnings: very sad, groveling, illusion to cheating

Masterlist

song: Masterpiece by Motionless In White

Hook taglist: @shawtys-things, @gethooked, @hope4more, @redpool, @lovethathookhausen730, @dgcrimson-garcia, @brideofinfamy, @boneyjones7777, @saramusazzi99

Join my taglist here!

A/N: this is my interpretation of the song!

previous extra

Third Person POV

All the stupid lies and the stupid games

Left a vacancy in this picture frame

A prisoner by my own hands

'Cause if I can't have me, then no one can

The rain fell relentlessly outside, matching the tumultuous storm brewing within Tyler's heart. He sat alone in his dimly lit apartment, the weight of his mistakes bearing down on him like a suffocating blanket. Memories of his infidelity haunted him, tormenting him with the pain he had caused his partner, Y/N.

As he stared at the empty space beside him, Tyler's mind replayed the events that had led to this moment. He had succumbed to temptation, seeking solace in the arms of another woman when he should have been cherishing the love he shared with Y/N. The guilt gnawed at his soul, consuming him from the inside out.

I need to heal what I inflict

But I'll burn that bridge when I get to it

As I play roulette with a broken gun

I confess these sins with a sharp and spiteful tongue

But now, as he sat in the silence of his remorse, Tyler knew that he couldn't undo the damage he had done. He couldn't erase the hurt in Y/N's eyes, the betrayal etched into her every glance. All he could do was try to make amends, to beg for her forgiveness, and pray that she would find it in her heart to give him another chance.

With a heavy sigh, Tyler reached for his phone, his fingers trembling as he dialed Y/N's number. Each ring felt like a countdown to his own reckoning, a reminder of the consequences of his actions.

So how do I apologize

And put the tears back in your eyes

When every canvas that I paint

Is a masterpiece made of my mistakes?

"Hello?" Y/N's voice was distant, guarded.

"It's me," Tyler replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I need to talk to you."

They sat in silence, the weight of their unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Hook could feel Y/N’s energy, filled with a mixture of anger, hurt, and disappointment. He knew he had caused her pain, and had shattered the trust between them with his careless actions.

The long pause on the other end of the line continued for a few more seconds, as if Y/N were debating whether or not to hang up. But finally, she spoke again, her voice tinged with bitterness. "What could you possibly have to say that would make any difference now?"

Outlined in guilt, my portrait stares

In a gallery where the walls lie bare

Tyler closed his eyes, his heart breaking at the sound of Y/N's pain. "I know I've hurt you, Y/N. I'm sorry," Tyler whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I know I've hurt you, and I don't expect you to forgive me. But I need you to know that I regret what I did more than anything."

Y/N remained silent, her gaze fixed on the floor. Tyler could sense the tears welling up in her eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.

"I never meant to hurt you," Tyler continued, his voice trembling with sincerity. "I was selfish and foolish, and I let my own insecurities and fears drive me to do things I'm not proud of."

But he refused to give up hope. He refused to let his past mistakes define him, to let them destroy any chance he had of making things right with Y/N.

"I know I don't deserve your forgiveness," Tyler said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn it. I'll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I'm worthy of your love, that I'm capable of change."

As I modernize my antique ways

True colors can't escape the brush of fate

But his words felt hollow, meaningless in the face of the pain he had caused. Y/N had trusted him, had believed in their love, and he had betrayed her in the worst possible way.

The silence that followed was deafening, suffocating. Tyler held his breath, waiting for Y/N's response, praying for a glimmer of hope in the darkness of his own despair. 

As the moments stretched into eternity, Tyler could feel the weight of his guilt crushing him, suffocating him with its intensity. He wanted nothing more than to turn back time, to undo the mistakes he had made and erase the pain he had caused.

But he knew that was impossible. All he could do now was try to make amends, to find a way to rebuild the trust he had so callously destroyed.

"I don't know if I can ever trust you again, Tyler," Y/N finally said, her voice trembling with emotion, "You've broken my heart, shattered it into a million pieces. I don't know if it's even possible to put it back together again." 

So how do I apologize

And put the tears back in your eyes

On every canvas that I paint

Is a masterpiece made of my mistakes?

Tyler felt a pang of despair grip his heart, the realization of the depth of his betrayal hitting him like a tidal wave. He had destroyed the one thing that had meant everything to him and had pushed away the person he loved more than life itself.

The weight of her words are like a physical blow, each syllable driving home the magnitude of his betrayal. But he refused to give up hope, refused to let his own failures define him.

"I understand," Tyler replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. "But please, Y/N... give me a chance to make things right. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust."

Illustrate all my pain

And set it all ablaze

Burn

And set it all ablaze

There was a long pause, during which Tyler held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. Then, finally, Y/N spoke again, her voice softening ever so slightly.

"I need time, Tyler," she said. "I need to figure out if I can ever forgive you."

"I want to believe you, Tyler," she said softly. "But I don't know if I can ever trust you again. You've hurt me in ways I never thought possible."

Tyler nodded, even though Y/N couldn't see him. "Take all the time you need," he said. "I'll be here, waiting for you."

So how do I apologize

And put the tears back in your eyes

When every canvas that I paint

Is a masterpiece of my mistakes?

As he hung up the phone, Tyler felt a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness of his own remorse. He knew that winning back Y/N's trust would be a long and arduous journey, filled with obstacles and setbacks. But he was willing to do whatever it took to make things right, to mend the bond he had broken with his own careless actions.

For in the end, Tyler knew that love was worth fighting for, even when the shadows of regret threatened to consume him whole. And as he stared out into the rain-soaked night, he vowed to himself that he would never again let his own weaknesses destroy the precious gift of Y/N's love.

And in the light of my demise

I see my failures in your eyes

Every canvas that I paint

Is a masterpiece made of my mistakes

[darklcy]

☆ 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧! 𝐀𝐎𝐓 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ☆

this has been in the drafts for a long, long time and i haven’t posted aot in a while, so enjoy :) | also i feel like some of these may be ooc but this was fun to write! just keep in mind this is how i think they’d act in a modern setting, ofc minus the war & trauma

attack on titan masterlist

𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍

skips class to vape

smokes to thundercat & nirvana

flannels flannels flannels

naturally you steal them. acts coy when you do.

“you didn’t steal it, i just let you wear it and didn’t say anything when you went home with it.”

i feel like he’d be into meditating. idk why. like someone said he should do it so now he does a quick 5-min guided meditation every morning

showers with his chain on and gets green neck

doodles on his converse and yours

writes “hi :)” on your homework, journals, notes, etc during class

has a minecraft server w jean, connie and armin

claims he’s not scared of games like outlast or silent hill but everyone knows he’s lying

ends up hiding behind you in haunted houses

LOVES DRIVE THRUS/FAST FOOD. sonic & in n out specifically

toddler sense of humor, like finds things falling over funny (y’all remember the video of the piece of bread falling over-)

doesn’t know how to work pinterest

leans over people’s shoulders to look at their phones

tried getting his cartilage pierced but it got infected

has a few tattoos on his wrists and bicep

will bite you impulsively

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍

you mean my bf

so this boy DOES know how to work pinterest, and has so many boards

one of them is filled w future pets he wants & another one includes house ideas with you :3

is the best language learner and knows french, spanish, and german

can’t watch gory shows like squid game or the walking dead, but enjoys psychological horrors like black swan

has a billion playlists with like 6 songs each

your playlist is titled “lovey” bc i said so

has maybe one lobe piercing. but only one

he goes so hard to TV girl and mac demarco, but also loves singers like sza & jack stauber

LUVS SMOOTHIES

downloaded bumble only for the fun of it once but immediately deleted it when someone liked him

bounces his leg and picks his nails

best. skin. ever. has a good skin care regime

drives a silver toyota prius 

super into journaling & drawing :>

such a gentle bf, but lives for gossip

you text him, “you will NOT believe what i just heard.” and he drops everything he’s doing to respond

coffee dates!!!

you two have a stardew farm together with a dog and a bunch of chickens and cows

his favorite character is crobus

i love him very much

𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐒𝐀

hardcore alison from breakfast club vibes

secretly into girl kpop groups

but loves hardcore women, like björk & poppy

definitely owns a lot of platform shoes: has like three pairs of demonias

shaves her brows to draw them on 

loves online shopping from aliexpress & etsy

into weird chunky jewelry!! has a necklace with a heavy cat pendant & a pair of eyeball earrings

loves to do your makeup! if you don’t wear a lot daily, she’ll do something for special outings like concerts or even for fun she’ll ask you to let her do it :3

has a tiktok specifically for ootds

favorite foods include spicy ramen, mediterranean meals & ice cream

i feel like she’d be in art class! she’d draw you random portraits or cute versions of you two to put in her scrapbook

oh yeah i also feel like she’d have a scrapbook!!! and keeps a lot of mementos from your dates/hangouts

when you come over, you, her and eren play mario kart

no doubt a spiritual girly: maybe not super into spells but has a tarot deck and a few oracle decks as well as a beautiful incense burner

you two go to goth clubs cuz yeah

her lipstick gets on you all the time

dressed up as lydia deetz one year for halloween

makes rings and necklaces and gives them to you, and she debates on opening an etsy shop

— hope you enjoyed!

[joachimnapoleon]

A look at three Fouché biographies

Over the past few months I've read three English-language biographies on Fouché: Joseph Fouché: Portrait of a Politician, by Stefan Zweig; Fouché: Unprincipled Patriot, by Hubert Cole; and Medusa's Head: The Rise and Survival of Joseph Fouché, Inventor of the Modern Police State, by Rand Mirante. These are a great example of how dramatically interpretations of a historical figure can vary from one historian to another (see also the difference between Alan Schom's interpretation of Napoleon vs. that of Andrew Roberts). And also a great example of why it’s a good idea to read multiple biographies on the same figure, to gain a more well-rounded perspective, instead of simply accepting/adopting that of the first biographer you read.

Zweig is a colorful writer and his biography is highly entertaining—he actually had me laughing out loud a few times—but his depictions of Fouché are so hilariously sinister and malignant throughout that at times it almost feels like a caricature. Zweig also utilizes the least amount of primary source material out of the three biographers--hardly any, actually--and so much of what he writes in regard to Fouché's motivations and thoughts come across as pure speculation or projection, but are always stated very matter-of-factly. Zweig presents a Fouché who chafes at the smallness of the roles he is given, driven by "unflinching selfishness." "When in power," Zweig writes, "he does not work for the State, does not work for the Directory or for Napoleon, but for himself." Aside from raw ambition, Zweig attributes most of Fouché’s actions to his sheer delight in engaging in intrigue for the sake of intrigue, an interpretation that seems to come straight out of Napoleon’s venting on St. Helena: “Intrigue was to Fouché a necessary of life. He intrigued at all times, in all places, in all ways, and with all persons. Nothing ever came to light, but he was found to have had a hand in it. He made it his sole business to look out for something that he might be meddling with. His mania was to wish to be concerned with everything.” Overall, Zweig’s book is worth reading, but out of the three English-language Fouché biographies, it’d be ranked third on my list.

Hubert Cole’s interpretation of Fouché is as different from Zweig’s as night is from day. The key word in Cole’s title is “Patriot,” and Cole’s central point is that Fouché, at each point in his career, was doing what he believed was in the best interests of France, even if that meant negotiating for peace with Britain behind Napoleon’s back, or pushing Napoleon towards a divorce and remarriage for the sake of shoring up the Bonaparte dynasty, or even (repeatedly) abandoning one master to serve another. This is the second one of Cole’s biographies I’ve read, and as most of you following me already know, I loved his dual biography on Joachim and Caroline Murat, the deceptively named The Betrayers, which is actually a very sympathetic look at the Murat couple. Cole is no fan of Napoleon and doesn’t really attempt to hide it, and maybe it’s because of this that he feels inclined to look deeper at the motivations and actions of those who ended up in opposition to Napoleon at various points (and who have therefore been demonized in history books accordingly). Cole draws heavily on primary sources, from letters and memoirs of Fouché’s contemporaries, to Fouché’s police bulletins (quoted at length throughout) to argue that “It is possible… that he was a sincere and moderately successful patriot. It is not uncommon in France for egoists to be hailed as patriots, and patriots condemned as traitors.” Far from the sinister, cold-blooded figure that haunts Zweig’s biography, or the “universally distrusted, feared, and hated” social pariah of Mirante’s, Cole's Fouché is charming, a welcome figure in the drawing rooms of Paris society, with a preference for making friends rather than enemies; nevertheless Cole does not deny that Fouché could also be ruthless, ambitious, and cunning. Cole also uses numerous accounts regarding Fouché by British, German, and Russian contemporaries, “in the belief that their prejudices, if national, are less personal.” Out of these three biographies, this one was my personal favorite, as I think it provides a more well-rounded picture of Fouché as a human being.

The primary focus of Mirante’s book is Fouché’s administration of the Ministry of Police, and the biography goes into great detail about the operations of the police in Napoleonic France, its vast network of informants, subversion of the press, surveillance of emigrés, and steady stream of information flowing in from all quarters. Fouché emphasized to his subordinates how one small detail or event could be “of great interest in the general order of things by its connections with related matters of which you are scarcely aware.” Like Cole, Mirante quotes frequently from Fouché’s police bulletins, as well as from memoirs of the era (though most of the excerpts are those hostile to Fouché). Unlike Cole, Mirante’s Fouché is driven not by any higher patriotism, but—especially after his humiliating flight from France in 1810—by a deep and abiding hatred of Napoleon, towards whose final destruction Fouché is willing to go to any length. Mirante provides more detail on Fouché’s exile and final years than either Zweig or Cole, one interesting aspect of which is the warm welcome Fouché received in Trieste from Elisa Bonaparte, who had been driven from power in Tuscany largely through Fouché’s machinations with Murat in 1814. Mirante ends the book with a critical look at Fouché’s dubious, ghostwritten “memoirs,” the credibility of which he is far more suspicious than Cole, who accepts the argument of French historian Louis Madelin that they are “largely authentic and accurate.” Mirante, on the other hand, is not convinced, and concludes that the memoirs are “highly assailable, at least quasi-spurious, and shrouded in controversy and deceit.” Mirante ends by drawing parallels between Fouché’s policing methods and those of the Gestapo and NKVD in the 20th century.

Overall I enjoyed all three of these for different reasons, and taken together they offer a more complete picture of Fouché. I haven’t gotten around to reading any French-language biographies on Fouché yet, but I do have a couple works on him by Emmanuel de Waresquiel that are definitely on my to-read list.

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

Since most people here don’t have TikTok (and honestly, I don’t blame them) they haven’t heard all the dps musical snippets, so I figured I’ll transcript them

(None of the songs are in any specific order) (when there are several snippets, they also aren’t in any specific order)

"Another New First Day"

From the lyrics and title, I figured this would be the first song. It’s possible I’m incorrect.

Sang by: all the poets simultaneously (except Todd)

But l'm still hopeful that it might just get better / Some senior fun 'til my acceptance letter / Nothing really grows, despite how I wish it would / I've got friends enough to know this place brings some good / No use combatting destiny, the history that's bound to be / Sit back, settle down, and give in / It's set in stone, you're set for life / This is your life, now live in it / Predictable in its way, you know how it all goes / You'll feel it in your bones / The feeling you can't shake / Everything that you should want is waiting for you at the top / Another fresh start, another pathway, another new year, another first day / Another new first day

“Desk Set”

Sang by: Neil and Todd

Snippet 1:

(Todd) How do l know this is really the truth? My lines get blurred when it comes to you / And I don't wanna play the madman in this mad show made for two

(Neil) I wouldn't hurt you Toddy. I couldn't if l tried / l've never met somebody who makes me feel half as alive as you do / Half as alive as you do / Beyond my mind

(Todd) Outside my head

(Both of them) I've kissed you once lets kiss one thousand times again / One thousand times again.

Snippet 2:

(Neil) I can't make sense of sleep-talk / I can't declutter the strangeness / I'll always be weary of wishing and its dangers / I twist and turn in panic / I think ‘til I come to / I've held it back, but damn it, I'm thinking about you / Clouds pass and bring sunshine through our window / Waking, blinding me, but setting you aglow

(Both of them) I tend to imagine and get lost in that space

(Neil) I can't help but sleeping because I determine my fate / Determine my fate at the sound of turning pages, at the sight of your face / I could spend days in the worlds I create in my head

(Both of them) Let's kiss one thousand times again and again and again and again and again / One thousand times again

"Choking On The Bone"

Sang by: Charlie

Spare me the tough love, this just can't be how the kid grows up / Is this now my epilogue? ls letting go really growing up? / Will growing ever be enough? Or is it worth just giving up? / Head first into the ebb and flow, having no say in how l go / Drowning in the shallow, sucking out the marrow, and choking on the bone

"I Can Hear It Now"

Sang by: Chris and Ginny

(Both of them) There is nothing I can do to make myself feel relevant next to him / 'Cause it's his world and we're all just living in it / My potential can be fatal / It's my living breathing downfall / Haunting moments / Stuck in corners / Keeping me cut from the picture / It's his portrait / It's his moment / And I'm here as a silent accessory

(Ginny) But silence can feel more like death to me. Fade in into the background / The black behind fluorescent lights / There's music ringing through the room, but I’m counting on silence tonight

(Chris) A moment of deep recollection / Make me feel / Make me seen / But this is the way things oughta be, for this is how they’ve always been

(Ginny) There is nothing I can do to make myself feel relevant next to him

(Both of them) Cause it's his world and we’re all just living in it

(Both of them) (in a round) My potential can be fatal / It’s my living breathing downfall / Haunting moments / Stuck in corners / Keeping me cut from the picture

(Both of them) It's his portrait / It's his moment / And I’m here as a silent accessory / But silence can feel more like death to me

"At Your Will / Choking On The Bone"

Sang by: Charlie and Cameron (they both sing at the same time, not after the other)

(Both of them) They throw me into the fire and I don't feel a thing

(Charlie) The blizzard has burnt me more than the flames / They want all of my innocence wapped up like presents / But you can’t cover up neatly what ended in ruins

(Cameron) For the first time, I don't get it / For the first time, I doubt I ever will / For the first time, I’m giving up on getting it / So crucify me at your will

"Father Made It Clear (Reprise)"

Sang by: Neil

Father made it clear / He leaves no room for hoping / I stare out of the window / The ground beneath me frozen / Snow white and pure, the pearly gates of heaven / Maybe I'll arrive to find the curtains open / Or maybe I'll arrive to find out he was right / *pause* / But father made it clear / There's no room for me here

“God Of The Cave”

Sang by: the poets (snippet 1, 2, and 4) + Chris and Ginny (snippet 3 and 4)

Snippet 1:

(Neil, spoken) Alright, alright, quiet, gentlemen. We must behave ourselves in the presence of a guest.

(Pitts, spoken) What guest?

(Neil) Who is this, that enters our sacred ground? / It's a guest, a visitor, and one of great renown! / Do we have any guesses? / C'mon give it a go, champ

(Pitts, spoken) God, Neil, I don't know, it just looks like a lamp.

(Cameron, spoken) That’s ‘cause it is just a lamp.

(Neil) See, that's where you're wrong / Gentleman, friends, men paving the way / There's a divine force here today meet: / the God of the Caaaaave!

(The poets) …

(Neil) God of the Cave, brotherhood incarnate / We follow your lead as as you set the path straight / Get on our knees, bow in faith, light and shade, praising you / God of the Cave

Snippet 2:

(Neil, spoken) Take it away Todd!

(Todd, visibly struggling) …

(Todd, spoken, to Charlie) Will you read it with me?

(Todd) We are dreaming of tomorrow when tomorrow isn't coming / There's today and there's the end / And everything is sudden

(Charlie) And still we sleep

(Charlie) We are dreaming of a glory that we don't really want / We keep it up our sleeves to preserve what we are taught.

(Todd) And still we sleep

(Both of them) We are dreaming of a new day when the new day's here already / Exalt, sob, live, take your time, and keep it steady

(All the poets) And still we sleep

Snippet 3:

(Ginny) I know exactly what I'm grateful for / I'm out on my own / Exploring the outdoors / A girl in the wild, how crazy, how vile! / Nobody by my side to babysit all night / Or compare myself to ‘til my heart's black and blue / Not scared of being in second place

(Chris) Being allowed to take up space

(Both of them) And finding home inside a cave!

(Chris) Being wanted for who I am alone / And for once not only who l know / So thank you again for inviting us / Tonight you've all provided us / A new reason to smile / And all the while / Let's be true to the people we knew we could be

(Ginny) More than a sister / More than a shadow

(Chris) More than a girlfriend / More than a sideshow / So, thank you for today / And, thank you, God of the-

(Simultaneously)

(Ginny) Out on my own

(Knox) Under her spell

(Charlie and Todd) And still we sleep

(Chris) Who l am alone

(Cameron) Use of my skills

(Meeks) No more blues

(Pitts) Living in my prime

(Neil) Paving the way

(All) Caveeeee!

Snippet 4:

(All) God of the Cave / brotherhood incarnate / We follow your lead as you set the path straight / Get on our knees, bow in faith, light and shade, praising you / God of the Cave

(Knox) I think you’ve got the right idea / Praising God for friends / I've got new and old beside me / And truth be told tonight reminds me / How I feel sitting here / Every time one is near / She's smart / She's kind / Funny and stunning / Warm like sunshine / Beautiful inside / And out just as well / One word from her lips / And I’m under her spell / Heat that expels and won't let the cold in—

(Chris, spoken) Well who is it?

(Knox, panicked, spoken) Uh Nolan!

(Chris, spoken) Nolan?

(All) Nolan?!

"Paper Ripping Song"

Sang by: the poets

(Neil) A hum from outside the window / A consistent buzz and pound / Whispers of desire ring low / I feel what I hear in that sound / I wanna be the train in the distance when it races

(Neil and Cameron) I wanna feel the gain as I'm put through the paces

(Neil, Cameron, and Todd) There's a light in the shadows of doubt / Nothing leaves you without a mark / If you haven't grown up by now / You'll be forever, forever in the dark / Who will I be...

(All the poets) Now it's all up to me, and l'm clueless / Been told what to do / But not how to do it

(Background, spoken) Rip, shred, thread!

(All the poets) My life is a maze, I can't cut the corners / Maybe today I might move forward / I'll be what I am, whoever that may be / And when I meet them l'Il see with utmost clarity

“Phone Call From God”

Sang by: Charlie

Snippet 1:

(Mr Nolan, spoken) Whoever the guilty persons are, this is your only chance to avoid expulsion from the academy

*phone rings*

When a phone rings, we're taught it's rude to hold off / So l hear a … and figure it's polite to respond

(Spoken) Mr. Nolan, it's for you. It’s God. She says we should have girls at Welton

I know it might sound crazy, but I know God when I hear her / That voice rings, booms, and stuns. She’s offering us the answer! / She's gifted us advice to repent us from all sin. There's a way to avoid all hell, yes! / lf you let girls into Welton / God herself is begging, pleading with a crackling voice / How are we to see the world if it's only seen by boys?

Snippet 2:

Now I can’t help / That I was born the chosen one / Hand-picked by the father, the holy spirit, and the son / So when they call me a prophet / What can I do but agree? / I guess the blessing of a goddess has forced a spotlight on me / And yes, there's pressure, handling it all on my own

(Ensemble, aka unnamed students) He talks to God!

But I take it in my stride and I take it over the phone

(Ensemble) God has a rotary - it makes sense if you don’t think about it too hard

Are we?

(Ensemble) Yes!

I wasn’t finished yet

(Ensemble) Sorry!

Are we ready to be the reason that God's plan falls through?

(Ensemble) No!

Then what should we do?

(Ensemble) We'll listen to you!

"Party Of Seven"

Sang by: Knox and Chris

*telephone sounds*

(Chris, on the phone, spoken) Hello?

(Knox, nervous) *hangs the phone abruptly*

(Charlie, spoken) What was that pussy-move about, Knoxious?

(Knox, spoken) She's gonna hate me! The Danburry's are gonna hate me! My parents are gonna kill me!

(The poets) …

(Knox, spoken) Alright, jeez. Carpe diem, even if it kills me.

(Chris, spoken) Hello?

(Knox, spoken) Hello, Chris?

(Chris) Yes, who am I speaking with?

(Knox, spoken) Hi! This is Overstreet! Well, no, it's Knox. I mean Overstreet is a part of my name but not all of it. It's Knox Overstreet in full, but I just go by Knox.

(Chris) …

(Knox, in a lower voice, spoken) Hey, it's Knox.

(Chris) Hi, Knox. I'm glad you called.

(Knox) She’s glad I called!

(Chris) I was actually gonna call you about Ginny's party to promote the play / I was hoping I could count on seeing you Friday.

(Knox, accusing, towards Neil, spoken) Ginny's having a party … and she didn't invite Neil … because if she DID he would've told us about it, right?

(Chris, spoken) Well, if you can't come Knox, that's totally okay.

(Knox, spoken) We'll be there!

(Chris, spoken) We'll?

(Knox) Of course! / What kind of party would it be / Without the hell-raisers of the academy? / We are going to that party / We'll do what the cool kids do / Like smoke and drink and talk to you

(Chris, spoken) What?

(Knox) Nothing! / The Dead Poets will be in attendance / That much you can count on / We've been waiting for something like this / Something to…. / Get our groove on

(Chris, spoken) All of you? That is … great!

(Knox) That is great / Just you and me / And six of my closest friends

(Chris) Well, it's this Friday at seven / So I'll see all seven of you then

(Knox) The Danburry's house / Friday at seven / I'll be there / All seven of us will be there

"Puck's Celebration"

Sang by: Neil

Snippet 1:

Years of waiting and pining have finally lead to this feeling / Happiness that's mine to keep / Nobody else I've gotta be

(Spoken) But that shrewd and knavish sprite called Robin Goodfellow. I’m Puck! I'm playing Puck!

(Background, spoken) Puck you!

Just a bed of bliss / Just to lay my head in / Just one thing that's really mine / Just one thing, just one time / God, I’m happy / Really happy / Don't think I’ve felt this kind of happy before now / Not even when I was barely ten, and my dad got me that toy train and / I played with it for days on end / I would sit and play with it / Well, play with it ‘till I broke the back engine / I guess I never did have steady hands / So much for being a surgeon then! / I still loved that train and, yes, I was happy / Happy despite the broken back engine / But this happy is different from back-engine-happy / This time I'm happy and it's just for me / With no despites and no tiny print / No more back-engine happy and no more restrict…ions

Snippet 2:

If father could see me now he'd see this smile on my face / and maybe he'd be proud of the happy boy he raised / I'd hug him and weep and say / "I love you, thank you for seeing me through" / And he'd say, "son, if you're happy, then l am too" / And he'd mean it / Each show I'm in, he'd see it / He'll buy flowers and stand in the aisle / Shouting "that's my boy!" with a genuine smile / I'd jump in his arms, he'd cradle my head, just like I'm a younger child again

“Starlit Smile”

Sang by: Chris

What is it about / His smile, his words, his gift — no, his curse / He beams, he shines / It seems he's mine if I want him to be / So, what's stopping me? / God, what's wrong with me? / But how can I know what's wrong or what's right / If I'm always running without giving a try / To the bright, warm joy of the moonlit boy

“Desk Set (Reprise)”

Sang by: Todd (talking to Neil)

Here, now I find you, abstaining from dejection / But know you don't have to be locked down by perception / The world will seek joy to crash upon, a light to bash until it's gone / But I've seen your unclouded days, your unlighted nights / I'm here for you always / I'm here now by your side, by your side

(Spoken) You’ll be alright

“At Your Will”

Sang by: Cameron

(Cameron’s villain song)

Drag my name through muddy waters / Make my face rough with blood / At least I'll know I took a stand / I followed through a steady plan / I faced it head on like a man / I did it once, l'Il do it again / They kiss the ground of this "great poet" / They sit here and leave me for dead / They weep and sob over teachings / And learn to abandon a friend

(Mr. McAllister, off stage, spoken) Gerard Pitts

My apologies for being neglected, unfair / Make me the enemy / And see if I care / Bully me, silence me, mock and ignore / They tried to brainwash me, but not anymore! / My apologies for winning, living right inside the grey / Success in dignity, morality in vain / For the first time, I don't get it / For the first time, I doubt I ever will / For the first time, l'm giving up on getting it! / So crucify me at your will

[make-me-imagine]

'Tis the Season

13 Days of Halloween: Day 2

Plot: While decorating the firehouse for Halloween, you and the crew carve some pumpkins.

Pairing: Evan "Buck" Buckley x Gn!Reader

Warnings: None

Words: 625; very short I know, but it's cute I swear!

-

You lightly bit your tongue as you carved out another piece of the pumpkin. You smiled softly as the outline of the haunted house became more clear.

Hearing a thud nearby, you looked over to see Chimney drop another box of decorations on the floor.

"What did we do, raid a Spirit Halloween or something?" He asked as Bobby walked past.

"'Tis the season Chim." Bobby commented with a smile.

"Yeah, right, and how many pumpkins do we need?" He continued to complain as he looked around a the various pumpkins that had already been carved.

"Come on Chimney, I thought you liked Halloween?" Buck called out from across the table.

"I do, I just think this is a bit a bit much."

"He's only mad because he tripped over a pumpkin and spilled his latte." You said with a smirk.

"It wasn't a latte, it was a cappuccino, and it cost me like seven bucks." He defended as he placed his hand on his hips.

You and Hen locked eyes for a moment before you both rolled your eyes and chuckled.

"Then it serves you right." Hen said as she put up the Halloween fundraiser sign out front.

You smirked as Chimney grumbled. "Why don't you carve your own pumpkin, it's fun." You suggested.

Chimney frowned "No, thanks. I already carved some with Maddie the other night, I can't get the smell off my hands."

"And, done!" Buck called out as he finished his last pumpkin.

Chimney, walking up behind him stared at it for a moment "Ah, look at that...Michael Jackson."

"What?" Buck said with obvious offense and he looked back at Chimney "It's not Michael Jackson!"

Eddie, walking over looked at it for a moment "Yeah Chimney, it's clearly Madonna."

Buck sighed "It's not Madonna either."

You chuckled "Let me see."

Buck, turned it around, and you and Hen stared at it for a moment.

You assumed it had something to do with Halloween, so you shrugged lightly.

"Michael Myers?"

The others made noises of shared agreement but Buck just sighed and shook his head.

"No, it- it's supposed to be you." He looked at you with mild defeat.

You felt touched at the idea he tried to carve your portrait, but looking at it again, you repressed a soft laugh.

From beside you, Hen let out a "Oooh" as she nodded her head "I can see it!" She said, obviously lying.

"Yeah, no no I can see it now too." Eddie said with an amused smile.

"Okay, I get it, it sucks." Buck said as he turned the pumpkin back around.

"Yeah, it does." Chimney said as he patted Buck's shoulder and walked away.

Buck frowned as he looked at the pumpkin again.

You smiled to yourself as you quickly finished your own pumpkin, carving out the last detail. You set it down with the others you had carved. A ghost, a classic jack-o-lantern, and now the haunted house.

Looking over at Buck, he was still staring at his pumpkin in disappointment. You smiled softly and walked over to him. Sitting on his lap, you looked down at the pumpkin again.

"It really doesn't look like you does it?" He asked softly.

You repressed a smile but met his eyes and shook your head "Not at all. But-" you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek "-it's the thought that counts."

He smiled softly as he stared at it a bit longer "God, it does look like Michael Myers."

You chuckled and nodded your head before you leaned further against him, and he wrapped his arm around you.

"If anyone asks, that's what it was always meant to be." He added on in a whisper.

"'Tis the season." You said lightly mocking Bobby as Buck let out a soft breathy laugh.

xx End xx

Simple and short, hope you enjoyed.

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

911/Buck Taglist: @spuffyfan394, @webreathfandoms, @locke-writes, @persephonesportal, @pockyandme, @soultrysworld, @averyhotchner, @iinmysights, @that-marvel-simp, @bellarkeselection, @shiftingwh0r3, @rqmanoff

[givemea-dam-break]

Hello! I love your work!! If possible, could you do a Lockwoodxreader story where the reader has to rescue Lockwood from some peril and comfort him through the aftermath please?

a/n: ahhhhh yes absolutely! i'm so glad you like my writing, so i can only hope I've done your request justice!

warnings: minor injury detail gn reader

"I'm going to kill you. I'm going to take my rapier, and I'm going to run you through."

"No point in telling me your murder plans. Now I know exactly what you're going to do. And, might I ask why exactly you want to kill me?"

You mutter some very insulting things under your breath before saying, "Because we currently have two Type Twos waiting down the hall for us, when this was meant to be a simple Type One job, hence why Lucy and George are back at home, relaxing and probably drinking my tea."

Lockwood looks over his shoulder at you, offering up that infuriating smile. "We'll be fine. We've dealt with worse together. Remember the ghost of Eleanor Hart?"

"Eleanor Hart was a Visitor whose only purpose for haunting her old house was because her cat had died and she never buried it."

"And, yet, she still tried to kill us, but we defeated her."

"You're not helping your case, Lockwood," you growl. "We should postpone for tonight, come back tomorrow with Lucy and George."

"No," Lockwood says, keeping his rapier steady in front of him. "I'll distract them, and you find the source."

You want to scream at him, but you keep your voice light. The Visitors are already getting agitated. "And what are your ideas of what the source is? These are two murder victims, judging by the gunshot wounds in their chests, but I don't think the goddamn gun will be the source if it's even here."

"Well, it's your job to find that out. Ready?"

"No, Lockwood, let's take a minute to think about -"

Before you've even finished your sentence, Lockwood leaps out of the iron circle and sprints towards the ghosts, capturing their attention. He darts into one of the rooms - the massive lounge - and you can hear the banging of exploding salt bombs as you hurry over.

Your Sight isn't your greatest Talent, but it's enough for you to see faint deathglows in the study, just beside each other. As the sound of Lockwood's battle increases, you creep into the room, placing your hand on the ground between the glows.

Echoes of voices fill your ears, the words unintelligible, but the tones clear enough: anger, insecurity, rivalry. Something about a competition where something went wrong - one betrayed the other. A gunshot, followed immediately by another, so loud that it knocks you off your feet.

"They killed each other?" you murmur, frowning. "So what would the source be...?"

Lockwood yells in the other room, and you jump to your feet, clutching your rapier tightly. You need to figure out what the source is and fast.

"(name), hurry!"

Panic flares in your chest, but you bury it down.

You don't think, you just run through to the Lounge.

Lockwood is stumbling, holding his side as if in pain. His rapier is in his left hand rather than his right, which looks like it's bleeding. He throws a salt bomb - his last - at the spirit on the left, and it dissipates, reforming over to the side a little, and... there.

A portrait hangs on the wall, depicting a beautiful woman. It's not a modern painting by any standards, but it's no more than a few decades old, and it clicks.

The men, the Visitors, had been fighting over her and, in a fit of rage when one sabotaged their competition to win her heart, the other drew his gun. Both were armed, and both shot each other, killing the other instantly. You want to roll your eyes at the stupidity, but you have more pressing matters.

Lockwood slashes at one of the ghosts with his rapier, but he's weaker with his left hand. The spirit draws nearer, reaching out a spectral hand as the other circles around to the side.

"Lockwood, duck!" you shout.

You throw a salt bomb at the spectre on the right, momentarily getting rid of it, and leap forward, cutting through the other with your rapier. When you reach Lockwood, he's panting heavily and limping as he moves. There's a look in his eyes, a glimpse of doubt and regret, and it spurs you on. You toss him your remaining salt bombs.

"Watch my back. We left the silver net in the hall."

Without giving him a chance to respond, you slice through the newly formed ghosts and tear the portrait off the wall. It's heavier than you expected - probably because of its massive frame - but you know that your guess was right. The ghosts wail with rage, following you as you sprint away with the portrait.

The hall seems longer than you remember, and you're sure you would've been ghost touched if not for Lockwood throwing salt bombs to protect your retreat. Your heart is hammering in your chest, and it hurts a little to breathe, but you can't stop. Your feet slide, and you crash into the wall, cracking your head on the old brick, but you manage to make it to the iron circle and fish out the silver net from the duffle bag, wrapping the large portrait in it.

Immediately, the hall becomes silent, and the Visitors disappear. All you can hear is your gasps for breath and the limping footsteps of Lockwood before he slides to the ground beside you, leaning against the wall.

"You okay?" you ask, turning to look at him, shaking off the wave of dizziness that occurs.

"Always."

You frown at him, shuffling closer on your knees until you kneel beside him. Gently, you pry his hand off his left side, eternally grateful to find that there's no blood. His right arm is trembling in your grip, possibly overextended or whacked on something.

"This will hurt," you warn before pressing your hands onto his left side.

Lockwood grits his teeth as you feel around his ribs. They're swelling a little, and they're obviously sore, but nothing feels broken. It's a similar process for his arm, probably sprained, and you sit back on your heels, breathing a sigh of relief.

"You're alright," you say softly. "Nothing broken, but you'll be sore and probably bruised for a little while. What happened?

He takes a deep breath, shifting slightly. "Threw me across the room, whacked against the fireplace."

You try for a smile. "Well, you're okay. I'm okay, it's all good."

"You're bleeding," he says with a frown. "(name) -"

Gingerly, you touch the side of your head, fingers coming back red and sticky. You don't remember hitting the wall that hard.

"I'm alright," you say. "Just a scrape."

All of a sudden, his fingers are gently brushing your hairline just beside the cut, brows furrowed and lips parted. Something in your heart squeezes at the sight of his worry.

"Lockwood, I'm alright. I promise."

"I'm stupid," he says, his hand travelling down your face slowly, cautiously, until his hand cups your cheek. Instinctively, you lean into his touch, ignoring the warmth of your face. "You were right, we should've left and come back tomorrow."

Your hand grips his, intertwining fingers. "Hey, yeah, you were a bit stupid, and I'm still tempted to run you through, but we're alive. We've done it."

"You've done it."

"Okay, I might've secured the source, but I wouldn't have been able to do that without you lobbing salt bombs at the Visitors."

His eyes are angry, but not at you, at himself. In the dim lighting of the hallway, he's awfully pale, and the faint bags under his eyes seem so much darker. From the corner of your eye, you might've believed him to be a ghost himself.

"Listen," you say. "It's done. It's over. We're alive, yeah? We're alive, Lockwood."

He hesitates, looking up at you with eyes you could just fall into. "But, what if it had gone wrong? You're all I - I can't lose you."

You turn your head in his hand, pressing a light kiss to his palm. "It didn't go wrong. You haven't lost me, see? I'm alive, I'm breathing, and I'm going to take you home and make you a nice cup of tea, then I'll put you on bed rest for a couple of days."

His pulse beats fast in his palm, and you could probably chalk it down to the adrenaline rush you always feel during a case fading off, but some part of you feels triumphant - a little action on your part flustered him.

"Let's go home, yeah?" you say, squeezing his hand softly. "I'll get you all patched up and fed."

"And will you -" Vulnerability flashes in his eyes, something you've rarely ever seen from him before. "Will you stay with me?"

Your heart flutters in your chest. "As long as you want, Lockwood."

His hand moves from your cheek to brush through your salt-encrusted hair, and a little, slightly smug, smile plays at his lips.

"There's the Lockwood I love, eh?" you murmur before blanching. Did you just say...?

Lockwood has a similar reaction, his jaw becoming slack as he stares at you. Your face feels hot.

"Um." You stand abruptly. "Come on, let's get you home."

You grasp his arms gently, pulling him to his feet and looping one of his arms over your shoulders. As you begin walking, all you can hear is your heartbeat pounding in your chest, deafening.

"Did you mean that?" Lockwood says, free of his typical charming tone. No, now he sounds... nervous?

Trying to act nonchalant, you shrug. "Maybe."

"Maybe, huh?"

He laughs, and the tension writhing in your stomach eases. His laugh is contagious, and, soon, you're laughing together, shouldering your bags as you trudge out of the abandoned mansion.

Something in your chest feels at ease from the absence of Lockwood's rejection. Part of you wonders if he feels the same, but the other part waves it off. You're both injured and probably out of it, right?

"I feel the same, for what it's worth."

Those four words, god, they're enough to make your knees weak and set off fireworks in your blood. You can't help the grin that parts your lips.

"Good," is all you can say.

Maybe it's the head injury, but you swear you can feel the gentle press of lips on the top of your head as you step back out into the outside world.

[paracosmic-murdock]

Tell me what are my words worth ; Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Chapter 12: "Parlant à la lune"

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: It has been two years since your secret was exposed and you had to leave London. Two years with deep buried misery and in which you missed everything you used to have. However, neglect, novelties, and letters made sure to give you more than one reason to return to claim someone who is as rightfully yours as your estate and your people: Benedict Bridgerton.

Warnings/tags: idiots in love, eventual smut, mutual pining, (kinda???) enemies (fake, this is just pride) to lovers (surely), bisexual benedict bridgerton, feminist themes, historical inaccuracy (for the sake of the plot), inspired by mulan (1998), song: the lakes (taylor swift), other tags to be added

Chapter summary: Perhaps you had manifested it or not, but either way, there was another man in your life to make it unbearable. Luckily, the stubborn fate (a letter) and your untamed mind (your undying love for a certain someone) would not let you stagnant in that misery.

Word count: 2K

❁ Series masterlist

❁ mila's paracosm (main masterlist)

1816 seemed to be a vintage year for the vineyards of the Château du Clos de Vougeot, so much so that it had you between the bushes of grapes painting them while tasting the fine wine produced almost two decades ago. Despite not being able to drink it until you were five and ten, the sweet, burgundy-colored drink has accompanied you throughout your life.

It reminded you of your childhood running through these same vineyards, riding a white horse named after your Mother's favorite gemstone as you tried to win a race against the setting sun, laughing with your father, and shooting arrows at the red dots placed on the trunks of trees. It made you wish he had never left, though you had made peace with his absence so long ago.

Perhaps you would not have to have done all the things you once did.

Your short stay in London did certainly mark you like a bloodstain: the ghost of those ocean eyes haunted your dreams and nightmares, and the words printed on ridiculous papers chased you down Europe for many moons. However, you have come way too far to watch some name-dropping sleaze as Lady Whistledown.

For a moment, you watched your bridges burn to the ground and your castles crumble down. What once were chants celebrating your name turned to screams of hate. You went from looks of adoration to them looking at you like you were a monster.

You had lived in the Americas with your Grandfather for two pair of months as a punishment for your imprudences and had returned to Burgundy with the determination to claim what is yours whatever it took.

You were not as successful, but you managed to have your cousin living constantly at the expense of your hard work ever since. At least he did not intend to marry you anymore, and for that, you could settle.

The book you had written was published earlier this year, and the story of the author writing poems to an unknown lover, sending them to him by talking to the moon was certainly a hit. As a woman, you found that so far from possible, but having your status and wealth did it all to make sure your words could be read anywhere across Europe.

Many more nights than you are willing to admit, you wondered whether Benedict was aware of the existence of the book or not; but most importantly, if he had realized it was about him.

Everything, for two years, was about him.

Portraits of his face adorned the walls of the Palace of Versailles, and his name was a recurring code in your book. There was even an unfortunate error in some of the first copies, as his name and surname had accidentally ended up explicitly mentioned.

No one suspected that the aforementioned was a real person, and you were grateful to the Heavens for that.

"Excusez-moi, Lady Y/N. Quelqu’un vous attend." Antoinette announced, and you nodded.

[Excuse me, Lady Y/N. Someone is expecting you]

You took a handkerchief to clean your paint-splattered hands and made your way to the Palace and out of the field.

Once you were inside, you were told that the person was waiting in the sitting room with your Grandfather. The person was a man, and you almost dropped your handkerchief to the floor.

"My dear," your Grandfather called for you. "There is someone you should meet."

"Whoever this is, I want him gone by dinnertime," you said.

He rolled his eyes at your stubbornness. "He has traveled for days and days."

"It is impossible for a human to care less about another."

You would not normally behave in such a manner, but the resemblance that man shared with your father had your imagination running in circles.

"Do you even know this man?"

A scoff left your lips. "He looks exactly like my father, meaning he must be a bastard child of his. Why is he here? To get what should be his. What will he get? Not a thing. I said I wanted him gone by dinnertime."

You regretted having created your Antoine alter ego. It was almost as if you had manifested a brother, which was devastatingly pathetic.

It was obvious he was standing there ready to take it all away from you.

The story behind it all is that your Grandfather has been looking for ways to watch your reign end for a while now, and the possibility of him having a bastard child was there. He couldn't have lived in celibacy for the nine and ten years he lived without his wife.

He didn't indeed.

There were three children of his living the life of commoners, but the only one who was interested in living the life that could have been his had he been born from your Mother was him.

"Don't listen to her, Raphaël," your grandfather told him, then looked at you. "You mustn't manage all of this for another day. You might not accept him as a brother, but after all, he is your father's son. What you consider to be yours isn't anymore, you must stop acting as if you were Queen Charlotte, owner of every soul that stands in the same region as you, you are not."

Your Grandfather used to adore you, but the events of two years ago led him to treat you like a ragdoll possessed by the cruel spirit of a soul in Purgatory. One you wish to get rid of but return every time you believe it to be gone forever.

You only laughed at his indiscretions toward you and watched him tolerate your devoted gestures.

Suddenly, you were nothing but a woman with the heaviest of heads that bears the crown, and you eventually got tired of trying to win his love back.

"He is nobody," you repeated. "This is my home, and so is every palace under the name of the Dukes of Burgundy. My pennies have made everyone's crowns and if I say I wanted him gone, gone he will be."

"You forget your place quite often, do you not?" your supposed brother commented. "I have never seen a woman that believes herself to be the owner of it all."

Your outraged glance could have killed him if what they said about looks were true.

"You will not come to my own home to talk to me as if you were someone with the right to. You should be the one to remember his place-"

"Women are incredibly arrogant and insane these days, it is ironic coming from one who is utterly alone in this world."

"Watch your mouth, brother," you threatened him. "You will choose your next words carefully unless you want to see what happens when you poke a bear."

"Leave us alone." your grandfather ordered him, and he complied right away.

You sighed.

"When will this princess figure out she isn't worth saving, huh?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I am sick of your misbehaving, Y/N, in all seriousness," he snapped finally. "Your arrogance is making me go insane, your words are inopportune, when will you learn that nobody in this world is standing by you?"

"And I am sick of you coming to my life every time I'm getting it right, sir. I am just so tired of you treating me like an unwanted child," you replied. "You treat me as if I wasn't your own daughter's daughter, and I am certain that she would be disappointed in you if she were here! She would understand me!"

"Don't you raise your voice at me and don't you dare speak of your mother as if you had known her." he ordered, his voice tranquil but angry.

Hurting tears escaped your sore eyes. "I lost the love of my life, you know? I lost him and I must live with that for the rest of my life! I have nobody! My Father is gone, my Mother is gone, you are gone! I am, just like you said, without a soul standing by me, and, just like he said, utterly alone in this world! If he comes I will end up living in the streets after having had it all. Is it what you want? For your granddaughter to be left to her own devices?"

"Ever since you escaped your home to disguise as a man and had that Bridgerton boy dishonor you, you stopped being my granddaughter."

You nodded, feeling more devastated than you had before.

"Alright, I am leaving for Versailles. He can have whatever he wants," you answered, knowing very well that no matter how much he tried, he would never get his name on anything you owned. Your Father's will firmly stated that the one to inherit every ducal thing would be your first son, said will was blessed by the King of France, and there was not a thing absolutely anyone could do against the King's blessing. "You can be sure you will never see me again."

"Do you have anyone to stay with in Versailles?"

"I do not need anyone, I have my Palace."

"I'm afraid you don't."

"What do you-"

Antoinette's sudden arrival stopped you from continuing. "Désolée, mais vous avez une correspondance de Londres."

[I am sorry, but you have correspondance from London]

You frowned, receiving the envelope.

From Eloise Bridgerton

So you opened it right away.

Dearest Y/N,

I, and dare I say my entire family also, wishes you more than well.

I do not know how proper it is for me to write to you after all that happened with my brother, but there is something you must know: he is about to make the biggest mistake of his life, and you are the only one who can stop it.

Benedict met someone: Miss Hayley Prince. I am obliged to speak of her as such a nice lady, with manners like no other. But she is not you.

This is funny enough because ever since you left, every woman he has had around shares some sort of similarity with you. This is what I have picked from overhearing conversations between Anthony, Daphne, Simon, Colin, and Kate, since, of course, I could never know a thing about those affairs of his.

Benedict has stopped himself from sending letters or traveling to France many more times than you can imagine, so you should know that losing you has been the catastrophe of his life. He regrets letting you go and it is under that premise that I beg for you to come to England as soon as possible.

He is seriously considering proposing to her, but I know that if you were to return, he would leave her and marry you instead.

Benedict does not love her at all, and in her, he just found the woman who is the entire opposite of you: she is most certainly not French, she does not care about art, she says emeralds are not suitable for her, she braids her hair funny, she gets disgusted by the mere idea of fencing or horseback riding, she hates horses, she is mean, she is superficial, she is not the third cousin of the King of France (or any king for that matter), and said she is terrified of traveling overseas. Benedict found the only woman in England that does not remind him of you and decided to hold onto her.

The problem is, Benedict is miserable with her. She is insufferable and none of us can bear with the idea of having to see her often. Also, my brother needs someone who can make him smile and inspire him.

That someone is you.

P.S. He talks to the moon every time it is full. I beg you to come fix him.

P.S.2. I have heard about your book! As soon as I see it somewhere I will buy it.

P.S.3. Lady Danbury said she would be enchanted to receive you at her home.

Sincerely and expecting your answer eagerly,

Eloise Bridgerton

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