#These two were legitimately my childhood cries

[smolvenger]

Smolvenger Fanfiction Masterlist Updated 4/7/24

If you want to be tagged, let me know!! :)

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, AND ASKS ABOUT MY WORK ARE APPRECIATED! THANK YOU!!!

Star Wars:

Oneshots-

Life Day Gift: Din Djarin x Fem! Reader:

The Mandalorian kept looking directly at you through his helmet. “Where…where did you get that necklace?” he asked. “Old friend, Life Day Gift,” you answered.

Years ago you were friends with a young boy named Din, assumed to be dead when your village was attacked. Now it's Life Day, and the day shift at your job brings a Mandalorian with a secret...an unexpected reunion. (Warnings: Mentions of death and violence and an asshole kid at the beginning, mainly fluff)

Marvel:

Oneshots-

The Most Wonderful Time- Bucky Barnes x fem! Reader: Often, he sat down- troubled. Eyes glazing over nothing but there was something inside him. Something he wouldn’t say

Bucky isn't doing too well at the Christmas celebration with your family. You go to cheer him up. (Warnings: smut with dom! Reader and sub! Bucky, some fluff)

(Not) Alone on Christmas- Bucky Barnes x trans! Masc! Reader:

“You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend!?” Bucky cried, hands on his hips.

You and Bucky fake date around the holidays. But you're definitely not interested in each other...unless...

(Warning: Brief Transphobic family member who gets shut down, some angst, but a lot of fluff)

Series-

I Say Nothing That Frightens Me: Loki x Fem! Reader.

Loki is alive and once I find him, I will tell him how I feel and-” “Y/N, he’s there with a woman he’s fallen in love with…”

Frigga sends you on a mission to find her son, who you secretly have feelings for since you were friends throughout your childhood. When you locate him with the TVA, you learn that he has fallen for some other woman named Sylvie and not you... More Coming Soon! (Warnings: Lots of angst, and an eventual happy ending)

Chapter One //Chapter Two//Chapter Three//Chapter Four Finale Coming Soon!(Continuing. Will be in Four Parts)

A Court of Mischief and Purpose: Loki x fem! Reader

“It is one week. Or you can kiss your life and your precious priest goodbye.”

Series Summary: Sarah J Maas's A Court of Thorns and Roses series is reimagined with Tom Hiddleston's various characters. You are dying of tuberculosis right before your upcoming wedding to the Lusty Vicar of Aldwinter, Will Ransome. The god of mischief Loki appears before you with a deal. He will heal you in time for the wedding...if you spend a week of every month with him. Opening you to a world of more magic and danger than you ever could imagine...

Masterlist Link here (ongoing!)

Masterlist for The Boat in the Water: A Beauty and the Beast Story: Loki x Stella Ransome miniseries

Summary: Having lost her health and her husband's fidelity and love, Stella has nothing more to lose than her life. Then...she is swept away to another realm, to an enchanted castle. A castle whose master is a god...a god with a striking resemblance to her husband.

One// Two//Three//Four//Five//Six

TBD

Tom Hiddleston Characters:

Oneshots-

Professor! Tom Hiddleston

Exam Aid- Prof! Tom x Reader (Request)

“Hello class- good morning. I’m your professor- Professor Hiddleston.”

When finals have gotten you down, your Shakespeare professor offers some help...and motivation... (SMUT)

Hot for Teacher- Prof! Tom x Reader (Request)

“Oh…he hasn’t said anything about a girlfriend, do you think…he’s single?!”

Summary: After being private about your relationship, your professor boyfriend, Tom Hiddleston, introduces you to his students.

Loki

The Ceremony- Loki x fem! Reader

"Now, all of you wish to watch? Then watch."

Summary: You and your dear prince, Loki of Asgard, are finally getting married. But in order for the marriage to be legitimate, your wedding night and consummation must be witnessed… (SMUT)

Seven PM Sharp- Loki x fem! Reader

Stupid, beautiful asshole with a great ass.

Summary: A sudden dinner "for the Avengers" changes everything about the relationship between you and a certain mischievous god... (SMUT)

The King of Asgard- Loki x fem! Reader

“Hail the King Loki! Hail the Queen Y/N!”

As the wife of Prince Loki of Asgard, you suddenly discover that Odin and Thor are gone. You are made queen and your dear husband is king. But a king needs an heir...(SMUT)

Reunion- Loki x fem! Reader

"He’s been gone for a bit- it’s been a few days."

The sacred timeline is destroyed. And your missing, mischievous lover has returned. A confrontation and a fear of abandonment and betrayal with his return still bring about the passion you have for each other. (SMUT)

Yggdrasil- Loki x fem! Reader

“Please…take me to him…it is all I want, all I wish, all I ask for..."

Your husband, the god of mischief, has made the ultimate sacrifice for his friends, and the world...he lives, but now he is alone...that is until you choose to join him in his solitude and make a life there.

My Goddess- Loki x fem! Curvy/Plus-Sized! Reader (Request)

'Don’t get carried away. You’re just not meant for romance, Y/N'

Amidst the pressures of school and your personal insecurities, you never expect your crush on the god of Mischief to be reciprocated...

Crimson Peak

Handsome Enough to Tempt Me.: Sir Thomas Sharpe x fem! Reader.

Yes, he was a stranger. Yes, you were alone with a man. But he seemed kind.

You were looking forward to a ball, but no one will dance with you and the night is turning sour. That is until you cross paths with a baronet with a talent for inventing... (TW: brief mentions of past abuse, but lots of fluff, a wee bit of hurt/comfort)

Half Agony, Half Hope: Sir Thomas Sharpe x fem! Reader

"And there’s something else…something you must know about me, about the man who’s going to be your husband…”

Your engagement with Thomas Sharpe makes him reveal the trauma of his childhood abuse with you. (TW: Mentions of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse)

Coriolanus

Twenty-Seven Wounds- Caius Martius Coriolanus x fem! Reader

After a few months, you realized something- you had never seen him bare.

In ancient times, in a place that calls itself Rome, you find yourself married to the general Caius Martius or Coriolanus. He has fought so many battles he has twenty-seven scars on his body. Scars that he has not shown you yet...

The Night Manager

Summer In Majorca: Jonathan Pine x fem! Reader

“Listen, the point is- I will not be the one you settle for just because you can’t have Jed!” you cried.

A trip to Spain alongside Roper and his crew had you cross paths with a man mysterious as he is kind and heroic as he is handsome. But it seems he has eyes for Jed and not you...

(Warnings: Eventual Smut)

High-Rise

The Cure for Virginity: Dr. Robert Laing x fem! Reader

Men have the brothel. Women have Laing.

You recently moved into the High-Rise and befriended the Residents. But your new friend, Charlotte, thinks you've been a virgin for too long. She suggests someone to help with that. The best amenity in the building: Doctor Robert Laing.

Warnings: 18+, Eventual SMUT!!!!

Series:

The Essex Serpent

Stella of Essex or The Vicar's Wife Betrayed: Some Stella Ransome x Will Ransome, Eventually Stella Ransome x Male OC

"Aldwinter was not filled with the sound of a hissing Serpent but the crying of women and especially of wives."

What does that say when men, even priests, are the ones free to misbehave and innocent women are the ones punished? Here, we explore the life of a young woman named Stella. Sweet and proper, she is naturally the ideal woman for the 19th century's expectations, as well as those for a minister's wife. She falls in love and marries a handsome vicar named William Ransome. Despite the challenges, they build a peaceful, happy life together in their small town. But then Stella Ransome not only catches consumption but discovers her beloved husband is having an affair...

TW: Discussions of cheating and the trauma and grief it brings but the cheated-on spouse gets revenge). If you don't want to read about Will or Cora or their affair being portrayed negatively, you have been warned.The series is now complete!

Link to Masterlist Here

Prologue//One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven//Eight//Nine//

Ten//Eleven//Twelve//Thirteen//Fourteen//Fifteen//Sixteen//

Seventeen

Stella's Second Husband: Stella Ransome x Male OC, a little of Stella x Will if you squint.

"Then, when I die. When I see God before judging my actions. I’ll only tell him- Lord, I loved a precious woman...And if I die from my love for her, then I can think of no sweeter death.”

Act One//Act Two (Complete)

The Pain of Being Betrayed by the ones you love hurts deeper than the bite of any mythical Serpent. Can Stella move on from Will and find a happy future with her new husband, Harry Cavardossi?

Warnings: Discussions of Suicidal Intentions. We get Two Tom Hiddleston's fighting each other. Some Steamy Stuff but no actual graphic smut. Drunkenness.

War Horse

Miss Narracott and The Captain: Captain James Nicholls x fem! Reader

Goodness, the uniform really did make him even more attractive! It made you dizzy.

Part One//Part Two//Part Three//Part Four//Part Five//Part Six//Part Seven//Part Eight-Finale Coming Soon!

Summary: You are Y/N Narracott, the older sister of Albert Narracott. You must do what you can so your family can keep their farm. And so your brother can keep his beloved horse. Under financial struggles, you never expect romance to come into your life...until you have a chance encounter with James Nicholls- a Captain with a knack for drawing. (Continuing)

Warnings: Light Slow Burn, some fluff, and some angst.

How To Fake Date A Spy: Jonathan Pine x fem! Reader

“Tell everyone you’re a couple, now. Go to a few parties and restaurants, hold arms, and smile at each other. Maybe a kiss on the cheek, sometimes!"

Part One//Part Two//Part Three Coming Soon!

When you joined your sister, Jed, for a lovely summer in Spain, you wanted to enjoy yourself. Instead, you have to deal with numerous men of Roper's business having a gross interest in you for more than small talk. Going to Roper for help, he offers an idea- pretending to be the date of his newest friend. A handsome sous-chef known as Thomas Quince. Little do you know yet, the man's real name is Jonathan Pine and he is on a mission to take Roper down...

The Hollow Crown

Used Goods- Prince Hal x Reader.

Why does he have to be The Prince of Wales? Why couldn’t he be just a tailor?

You are betrothed to your darling prince Hal, but the Law of Contract demands that you must be a virgin to marry the future King of England. This forces you to confirm a traumatic incident and secret from your past...how will Hal react? TW: Discussions of past sexual assault,"Who did this to you?", Hurt/Comfort, and comforting fluff.

Part One// Part Two

The Twelve Days- Prince Hal x Reader.

“You, luckiest of girls, are betrothed to marry none other than the King of England!” your mother cheered.

You were betrothed to marry none other than the young kind of England, a man you had never met. Now you must face your first celebration of the Twelve Days of Christmas not only as a queen but as a wife in a royal and still unconsummated marriage... TW: Smut, only a little angst, and lots of fluffy and romantic moments.

(Now Complete!)

One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six//Seven//Eight

The Queen's Abduction- Henry V x fem! Reader (Request)

"You may not fear my father,  you may not fear my brother- but you will fear the wrath of his majesty, the king"

Shortly after your secret marriage to the king of England, Henry V, a nefarious villain abducts you to be his...

Nursing The Prince- Prince Hal x fem! Reader

"You look at the prince like he was a honey-cake!"

You tend to Prince Hal's wounds after the Battle of Shrewsbury.

Arise Fair Sun- Henry V x fem! Reader

"Here, there are no eyes watching us. I can speak to you honestly"y.

One night, Henry appears under your balcony to confess his feelings to you.

The Wedding of The King- Henry V x fem! Reader

As king, Henry could have anything...But he could not have a wife who loved him.

Henry is looking forward to the wedding of his arranged marriage to you. You as The Bride, however, are not...

(Small Spinoff of The Twelve Days but can be read without that context)

The Battle of Agincourt- Henry V x fem! Reader

"The camp is far off. They won’t disturb us. They won’t hear us..."

As his wife and queen, you follow your husband, Henry the Fifth to France for his battles. It is the morning of the battle of Agincourt, and you don't know if he will make it out alive. You spend one last moment of passion together. (Contains Smut)

After The Battle- Henry V x fem! Reader

For many men, the lust for battle was only a flip of a coin from the lust of the body. 

After your husband, King Henry V, wins and survives the battle of Agincourt, you meet him in his tent to reward him... (Contains smut)

The Tavern Prince- Prince Hal x Fem! Proper! Reader

You hated that he was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on.

You are shocked and unhappy to find out you are betrothed to notorious rake, Prince Hal. But one evening, he sneaks you into the Boar's Head Tavern...and your mind about him starts to change. (SMUT)

BIRTHDAY BLURB MASTERLIST TBD

Taglist: @4stary @sonyascomet @asgards-princess-of-mischiefvelyn-kingsley @five-miles-over @jennyggggrrr @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @villainousshakespeare

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, DMS, AND ASKS ABOUT MY WORK ARE APPRECIATED! THANK YOU!!! If anyone wants to be added to the taglist or removed, please let me know! Thanks y'all!

[polichinelle]

oversharing 🫶

it's always weird talking abt my childhood bc i experienced like... two extremes? my parents broke up when i was two (they had me at 17 which is probably relevant) so i have no memories of living with both of them. i stayed pretty much full time with my dad up until i was 7 where my mom got custody and i would only have weekends at my dad's (for a while i think it might have been one out of two weekends but i really wasn't doing well with that so they changed it... i honestly don't rmbr much about that time but i think that's what it was) and like... at my dad's i was very well cared for and honestly super spoiled. i was very happy there bc i could do pretty much whatever i wanted, it was kind of insane (there were limits obviously but they were very far limits) but my mom was broke and irresponsible and neglectful and kinda abusive. generally very unstable. and like i lived with her up until i was 14 when she kicked me out and i went back to my dad's (he didn't live w my grandma anymore by then and my uncles were doing their own thing so i wasn't overly spoiled anymore thankfully) but yeah like. it's weird bc it wasn't a full time shitty childhood, i always had my dad's place to look forward to at the end of the week? and i still have trauma but it feels less legitimate to me bc i *did* have regularly have an escape from it

the one thing in common with both though is a bad relationship with food but that too is two opposites end of the spectrum. my grandma overindulged me and let me eat unhealthy food all the time and never rly tried to get me to stray from comfort foods and she gave me BIG portions. and my mom forced me to eat foods that would make me throw up and there often wasn't enough for a second serving if i was still hungry (that's when it was still good tho. towards the end she pretty much wasn't feeding me at all so my grandma sent me back with big lunches for the school week and i would ration those out... i remember doing that often but idk if it was all the time)

even the locations were very different. my dad lives in a pretty nice suburban area (well it was nicer then) and my mom in kinda crappy city apartments

it kinda feels like i've always been torn between the two. i used to have this irrational fear of the end of the world as a kid and i think part of why it distressed me so much was that if it happened and i died i would either be with my mom or with my dad never with both and i literally cried about that so often

that's without mentioning the fact that i had siblings at my mom's and i was made to parent them whereas i was an only child at my dad's until i was 15

yeah idk

[xaracosmia]

ꕥ — WELCOME TO EXO COSMIA, JESSE FADEN. 🌑

ꕥ  — OOC INFORMATION;

name / alias: jan age: 26 pronouns: he/him ooc contact: bloomood @ tumblr other characters in xc: none for now

ꕥ  — IC INFORMATION;

name: jesse faden age: 28 pronouns: she/her series: control canon point: Post AWE & Foundation DLC app triggers: paranoia, gaslighting, stalking, uncanny valley (akin to media revolving around The Backrooms or unexplainable phenomena)

personality: 

This is off the record, right? Director Faden’s an amazing boss and all but I don’t want to be quoted or anything… Okay, good. 

Jesse Faden had a rough childhood. She was on her own for awhile, just a voice in her head to keep her company. Growing up, I know she felt lost and the world didn’t treat her too kindly either. Her words were often waved off, her cries for help and her desire to belong or just to find someone to listen was almost never heard. She harbored some resentment towards the world for that, but it’s not something she let consume her. 

Jesse is still very empathetic. She’s helped agents she’d only just met all around the FBC in dire straits, saved countless lives. Because she knows she has power, strength, and if she’s got it she might as well use it. She’s adaptable and takes things in stride, no matter how absolutely insane those things might be. Sometimes she can get really intense, like really intense. She’s not afraid to let people know how she feels and sometimes that comes with a sting. 

And.. between you and me, sometimes I think she’s still got those more buried habits from when she was a kid. She’s scared of being alone again, no matter how strong she might get. Scared of losing that voice in her head.

But, hey, you didn’t hear any of that from me.

something your muse struggles with: obsessing over her goals, abandonment. 

your muse’s greatest strength: adaptability. 

history / background: 

You want Director Jesse Faden’s file? Right, and I want to have dinner with Beyonce. 

What the hell is that? Full Clearance? Are you serious?

Okay… Fine. Far as I can tell that card is legitimate. Where to even begin…

Well, seeing that you’ve got a visitor’s badge AND have full clearance, I guess it’d be good to just go over some basic terms to make this whole thing a lot easier. 

OoP. That’s an Object of Power. These are items that are connected to another plane of existence called the Astral Plane. How that happens? That’s above my pay-grade, but the important part is that OoP’s can be bound to FBC (Federal Bureau of Control) agents, giving them some badass powers. Director Jesse Faden’s got a ton of them. 

AI. Altered Item. Altered items are acted on by paranatural forces during AwE’s that give them some strange and oftentimes dangerous properties. Think of a refrigerator that needs constant eye-contact from somebody, or else it starts destroying its surroundings. These things can’t be bound to agents and are just contained in the FBC containment sector.

Lastly, AwE. Altered World Event. These are breaches of reality by paranatural forces that are sometimes the cause of, or can create altered items. Think of a sinkhole so rapid and drastic that it starts pulling everything around it in straight to the Earth’s core, magma and everything. The FBC goes in, covers it all up, and returns to contain any possible altered items from the scene.

Got all that? Now, Jesse Faden. 

When Jesse was eleven, she and her brother Dylan had come into possession of an OOP. It was a Slide Projector, capable of opening pathways into other dimensions through the use of the slides that they found. They played in those dimensions, and eventually came into contact with two entities. One of these entities, which Jesse named Polaris later, communicated with them both telepathically and would become a constant in their lives, in their minds. It wasn’t all fun times though. The Faden’s had another childhood friend who was beaten up by a gang of bullies, and then interrogated to find out more about this “toy”. Those bullies stole the projector and that’s when it all started going to hell.

The gang of bullies found another slide and began getting corrupted by another entity. It turned them absolutely nuts, apparently, they even killed a teacher in their school. That’s when the police took the kids away, and Jesse and Dylan were questioned about the projector. Apparently, Jesse and Dylan’s parents were especially hard on the two kids with their questioning, and Director Faden recalled wishing they were gone. The next day, every adult in Ordinary was missing. We’re unsure if there’s a link between her and that event, but that’s what got the attention of the FBC. 

That gang of bullies? They were fully corrupted by that entity, the “Not-Mother” was the recorded name. Jesse and Dylan managed to get to the projector, but she couldn’t turn it off herself, only with help from Polaris did she manage, and she burned all the slides except for the one that Polaris was from. 

The FBC came in, covered it all up. Said it was an “Industrial Incident”. They took Dylan with them, Jesse managed to get away. 

From then on, Dylan Faden served as the “Control” Subject for the FBC’s prime candidate program. The program which would install future Director’s of the entire Bureau. Jesse on the other hand lived with a constant set of eyes on her. She was paranoid, gaslit at every turn by therapists and the news and everyone just denying everything that she grew up with. No one would believe her, it was all so outlandish, how could they even? Jesse worked odd jobs, mostly custodial, keeping to herself and living in and out of motels as she grew up and continued her search for something that the world claimed didn’t exist, in the search for her brother. At least Polaris was there for her. 

At twenty-eight, Polaris finally led Jesse to the FBC. Now the building we’re in, The Oldest House, it’s an OOP itself. It hides itself in plain sight, only revealing itself when it wants or needs to. The building’s constantly shifting, which makes it a constant work hazard mind you. But Jesse finally managed to find the place, and she quickly came to finally realize she wasn’t crazy, and all this dimensional, paranatural shit, was real. 

Jesse found the former Director of the FBC, Director Zacariah Trench, dead in his office. His OOP, the Service Weapon, a pistol to keep it simple, was there. Jesse picked it up and went through the bonding process unknowingly. Now if you pick up that thing, and the Service Weapon doesn’t deem you as a worthy candidate for the next director, you just die. It’s Russian Roulette, and that gun will kill you. Jesse survived the first trial, and on day one was granted the position of Director. The candidate process, the Director, it was all overseen by an entity called The Board. Astral Plane again, but the Board is the one that’s tied right to the Director.

And boy was it trial by fire. The Oldest House was invaded by a hostile resonance, some sort of corrupting power she called The Hiss which turned agents into mindless slaves to the extra-dimensional entity. The whole building was on lockdown until the Hiss was dealt with. Some agents survived thanks to a technology called an HRA, that was passed out by the head of Research for the FBC, Casper Darling, a bit before the breakout. 

Jesse worked with the survivors of the outbreak to try and bring order to the FBC, all in the hopes that she could find her brother Dylan. Through cleaning up the mess inside the lockdown, Jesse came to learn about all the surveillance she was under her whole life, all the cover-ups, and she learned that after that event in Ordinary with the Slide-projector AWE, she and Dylan were put into the Prime Candidate program. Dylan was PC6, Jesse was PC7. In captivity and under the Bureau’s tests, Dylan eventually went crazy. He was corrupted by the Hiss too, broke out of containment, but he wasn’t mindless like all the other agents. He told Jesse that the Hiss entered the Bureau through the Slide Projector that the Bureau kept. 

Jesse then began the search for the projector, along with Polaris’s guidance, maybe they could help her brother somehow. She learned that the former Director Trench, and Dr. Darling, used the projector to make more excursions into the other dimensions. Darling found that entity linked to Polaris, which he named Hedron, and brought it back with him. It’s Hedron’s resonance that Darling used to create the HRA’s, which protects the agents from the Hiss influence. Director Trench on the other hand, Jesse later came to learn was actually corrupted by the Hiss. Subtly, slowly, making him paranoid. He was actually the one who let the Hiss in initially, convinced that everyone else in the Bureau was against him thanks to the Hiss’s influence. 

At the same time of this realization, Dylan broke out of his containment again and stole the Slide Projector. He tried using it to enter the Astral Plane and corrupt The Board. Jesse almost gave into the Hiss entirely, but she pulled back control of her own mind along with Polaris and freed herself of that corruption. She stopped Dylan, cleansed the Slide Projector, and Dylan fell into a coma. 

Jesse shut off the Slide Projector and cut off the Hiss from entering the Dimension. Though some threats still linger within. 

And that’s our fearless Director Faden. She’s working still, getting rid of the Hiss and trying to bring her brother back. 

Hey, you’re the one who wanted the whole file.

powers / abilities: 

Director Faden’s the strongest Parautilitarian we’ve seen. Which is just a fancy word for people who can do things not “normal” in our reality. 

Launch: Through binding herself with OOPs, Jesse Faden’s been able to harness insane telekinetic powers. She can grab and launch multiple things. We’re talking boulders and stone straight from the ground or walls. Even people. The speed she can throw them is lethal with every bit of the word. That telekinetic power lets her also surround herself in whatever loose debris is around to form a shield. Defense is just as important, right?

Evade: Now this one’s cool. She can use it with her other abilities, but even just on its own it’s crazy. Jesse can propel herself in pretty much any direction in a short burst of speed, flinging herself to evade whatever might be coming her way. Like a slingshot almost. 

Kinetic Blast: Nothing flashy, but packs a hell of a punch. Jesse can release a close-range, kinetic explosion that pushes things away. If they survive the blast. 

Seize: This one’s a bit freaky. I’ve seen Director Faden hold a hand out, and channel her power right into her enemy’s minds. She can control them for a time, make them fight against their own kin and on her side. [[ OOC: Would only do this with consent or in circumstances where there’s no sort of meta-gaming going on!]]

Levitate: I know what you’re thinking. And yeah, it’s that. Director Faden can fly. Not Super-man levels, but she can go up pretty high, over a story or two, and hover there for a good while. If she jumps off a high point, I’ve seen her slow her fall as well. Come right down from the top of the Black Rock Quarry as light as a feather. 

inherent abilities: 

Polaris: This one’s a bit tricky to explain. Back when Jesse and her brother were messing with the slide projector as kids, they opened a pathway into another dimension. In that dimension were two linked entities, Hedron (Named by Casper Darling later on), and Polaris. Polaris is an extra-dimensional visitor! Just one that lives in Jesse’s brain. Jesse named this entity Polaris since she saw her as a guiding star. Since she was eleven, Polaris has been a comfort in Jesse’s mind ever since, oftentimes serving as her only friend and a companion she has constant conversations with. As far as we know, Polaris is the source of Jesse and Dylan’s parautilitarian powers.

Gun training: Whether it came from earlier in her life, or she just was a natural, Director Faden is a truly exceptional shot. And I’m not saying that just because she’s the big boss either. The Service Weapon comes with many variations, ranging from semi-automatic, handgun style shots to explosive propelled missiles. Jesse has proven she can hit her target while flying, dashing, or in any number of difficult positions while always keeping on the move in a fire fight. She’s like a wrecking ball that can fly, twist, and dive through the air. A wrecking ball with a gun.

items / weapons: 

Service Weapon: The Director’s Gun. Owning this thing makes you the Director of the FBC, as ordained by The Board which is tied to this thing. It’s an absolute beast of a weapon, taking the shape of a handgun most of the time, composed of other-wordly material. Cubes that let it shift into different configurations and manifest different projectiles, reloads over time or if Jesse is especially trigger-happy, it goes on a cooldown before it can fire again. 

Fun bit of a trivia, a lot of agents hypothesize that this thing took the shape of legendary weapons of old back in the day. Talking Excalibur, Mjolnr, whatever the worthy wielder deemed it to be. Imagine that, huh? 

The Service Weapon can be swapped out for its firing configurations on the fly. It’s got:

Grip: Similar to a revolver, semi-automatic.  Shatter: Wide-spread, buckshot style shotgun configuration.  Spin: The barrel revolves, almost like a minigun. Harder to control accuracy wise but it’s fully automatic. Pierce: A slow-firing, charge-up style that fires a single shot that is capable of piercing through architecture and enemies. All about user accuracy here.  Charge: Closest thing that can describe this is up to three, rocket-propelled grenades.  Surge: This one’s trickier. Fires grenades that stick to surfaces or enemies, and can be detonated at Jesse’s discretion.

Ahti's Walkman: An old school portable cassette player with matching wired yellow headphones. The cassette has some Finnish songs on it and one track by the Old Gods of Asgard, called Take Control

starting ability: Launch.

starting item: Service Weapon. 

extra: 

Might just be the most comfortable a character ever could be once she gets dropped into Xara Cosmia. Walked down a door in the Oldest House, blacked out, woke up here. 

She’s like a jedi with a gun. Seriously, her powers are so cool. 

A true glass-cannon of a set of abilities and skills. 

Also I love her, hope you guys do too.

I tried something new with this application style with the voice and how it’s written, just imagine you had some guy in a suit with a clipboard in a very generic looking office telling you all this information. We’ll call him Agent Bill.

And I swear one day I’ll submit an application that isn’t this long, I should be arrested for my crimes.

discord id: primecandidate7

[caffeinejournalist23]

The Nightmare After Halloween

I knew this was coming and I tried my best to brace myself for it.

Now that Halloween's over I know the harder Hollidays are coming up sooner; I haven't really had a traditional Christmas in years - and even longer since a traditional Thanksgiving. The Hollidays always brought out the worst in my family, half the time one half would come at one time, a fourth at a later time, the last quadrant wouldn't show at all.

But at least before I could pretend; I could pretend it was just because I had work and declined the invitation or that someone's car broke down or a cousin got sick and that was why we didn't have Thanksgiving. Or my grandma had to buy an emergency Louis Vuitton or my mom had to pay an extra late fee on the internet bill or I got swamped with homework over the winter break and that's why we couldn't have a normal Christmas.

Now I can't pretend; now it's as a bright as a Christmas tree how my family never loved me, never loved each other. Last Thanksgiving my aunt invited me when I ran into her at the hospital; I had to get my own ride, I couldn't tell mom, and I couldn't talk about anything deeper than the weather, but I was invited. In that moment of ignorance I didn't allow myself to realize how painfully wrong that was. I hear of family flying across the country for each other, but my aunt couldn't drive 20 minutes to get me?

I think the reason why this all hurts me so much is because now it's not just neglect disguised as reasonable excuses, and I truly feel alone; like now, being alone during the Hollidays can't be disguised and gaslit as being my own choice. I don't have a choice, I don't have enough ignorance to pretend legitimate excuses are the reason for it.

I kinda hope no one invites me either. If any of my friends invite me I think it'll make me cry and feel embarrassed. Maybe at the root of it all, I hope none of my friends invite me because it puts the spotlight on the elephant in the room I've so desperately tried to hide; that I'm not just strong, not just resilient. I'm hurt. I've been abandoned and abused and neglected and damaged and it hurts so much. My flesh and blood doesn't love me, doesn't miss me, doesn't give a shit about me - and they never did. It makes me feel so unwanted and so unloved. The people who I was supposed to love and trust forever were my harshest enemies this entire time and it took up to this year almost a quarter of my lifetime to come to terms with it and accept it as the dark brutal truth. And it just makes me so sad and angry. It hurts me so so much. It feels like I'm undesirable, like I was never enough.

So if anyone else who's been abandoned and/or feels alone this holiday season finds this post, just know that you're not truly alone and I sincerely hope and wish you have that feeling of love that you so deserve - whether that comes from a stranger, family member, a friend, a coworker, a neighbor, or even from somewhere within - maybe where your childhood self is so relieved to have all of the generational trauma cycles finally over.

I remember on my birthday last year - just days after bing abandoned by my entire family; it was after two strong shots and just as I was getting ready for bed I wanted to play Animal Crossing - it's one of my stress relievers. The little villagers gathered around K. K. to sing my character a birthday song. Automated messages from the sweetest game writers ever swarmed my screen and my character's mailbox. Canberra came to my little house to hang out and deliver a birthday cake. Villagers came by to party and share a gifts.

And I balled. I cried for a good hour-plus; because in that moment, from that automated birthday program,

I truly felt special and loved.

[erradox]

Zeru Redemption Arc He was mean to Kasparas in a prior timeline :'( Zeru belongs to @burbled !!!

[lyrabythelake]

Hi Lyra ! Do you still do request prompt *fidget* *look at you with puppy dog eyes* cuz if you do I have one !! (though feel free to ignore and delete this ask if it just doesn't inspire you or if you just don't want/can't do it). Here I go :

Twilight tries to tell the chain one of his numerous childhood story where the wolf is the Villain. The rest of the Chain get outraged on Wolfie behalf before he can really go into the story though.

Hi Lilli!! Nice to see your name in my inbox, and what a great prompt, thank you so much!! I went a little overboard with it ahaha.

(For context, this is set when only Time, Wild, Four, and Legend knew about Twilight being Wolfie.)

“...But as the noble swordsman crossed the threshold into the deepest, darkest part of the woods, he stopped dead in his tracks. A great, dark shape emerged from the trees in front of him and blocked his path, five times the size of any man and twenty times more ferocious, teeth as sharp as whittling knives and eyes like yellow lanterns in the dark. It was…” 

Twilight paused dramatically, and Wind, Four, and Wild practically held their breaths in anticipation.

“…A wolf.”

Wind, who had been fully enraptured by Twilight’s fairytale before, groaned and rolled his eyes.

“What?” asked Twilight, stung.

“The bad guy’s a wolf? Again?”

“Yes,” said Twilight defensively. “Wolves are scary.”

“No offence, Twi,” said Four, “but I kind of have to agree with Wind. You’ve faced hundreds of monsters–Redeads, Iron Knuckles, Ganon himself–and the scariest monster you can think of for your stories are wolves?”

Wild and Wind nodded in agreement, and Twilight shrugged.

“They’re not my stories. You asked for some of the tales I grew up hearing as a child, and, well, these are it. Wolves are a legitimate worry in Ordon; they eat our livestock and kill our children, they’re heartless beasts that ruin lives.”

“Not all of them,” argued Wind, and when Twilight looked at him questioningly, he continued like the answer was obvious. “Wolfie isn’t!”

Twilight said nothing. 

“Wolfie’s not a heartless beast, Twi,” Wild told him quietly. There was a sadness in his eyes that Wind seemed to miss as he looked between the two of them, outrage plain on his face. 

“I can’t believe you would think that about Wolfie!” he cried. 

“He’s a wild animal, Wind,” Twilight told him rationally. “It’s true that for now he seems to like you, but he’s dangerous. He could turn on you at any point, it’s in his nature.”

It wasn’t often that Wind showed true, genuine anger, but when he did it was usually on behalf of his friends or family. Twilight felt a pang in his chest at the realisation that Wind’s list of family and friends apparently included Wolfie, because his brows were drawing together in sharp defensiveness.

“You don’t even know him, Twilight,” he growled through gritted teeth. “You’re never around when he is; if you were, you would know how he sleeps beside us when we have nightmares and risks his life for us during battles. Wolfie is every bit a hero as any of the rest of us.”

Twilight, as unexpected as it was from Wind, felt a little like a scolded child, but that didn’t stop his own protective streak from rising to the forefront of his mind. Because they did need protection from his wolf form; he felt that wild, untamed savageness every time he shifted, the fickleness of wolfish freedom and the unadulterated powerthat came from being in the body of a coldblooded predator. A power he didn’t entirely trust himself with.

Wolves were not made for cuddling at night, nor to walk among men at all. As the wolf he had unwittingly gained his friends’ trust and he felt the guilt of it every day, because he knew that someday he might give into his animalistic instincts and the consequences of that would be entirely on him.

“He’s a wolf, Wind. He’s not a dog you can train to do tricks. You consider him a friend? Well, he considers you a body to keep him warm at night, a backup food source for when the hunting is bad.”

“Shut up!” shouted Wind. He was on his feet now, his blue eyes burning with something more than the reflection of the campfire. Wild and Four looked a mixture of heavily uncomfortable and deeply sad. “You don’t know anything, Twilight!”

“Hey, what’s going on?”

They had attracted the attention of the rest of the camp now. Warriors and Time were standing above them, clearly ready to break up whatever argument had stemmed from a simple story-telling session, and Sky hesitated a little way behind them, ready to jump in if needed. Hyrule and Legend watched from the corner of Twilight’s eye, and from their expressions—Legend’s raised eyebrow and Hyrule’s infuriated glare—they had both been listening for a while.

“Twilight is—” Wind spluttered in response to Warriors’ question, clearly at a loss for how to explain. “He’s insulting Wolfie!”

“What?” Warriors observed Twilight confusedly, and Time narrowed his single eye.

“I merely said that wolves are temperamental,” said Twilight, trying to keep his voice calm despite hating every second his friends were looking at him that way. “He shouldn’t be so fast to trust Wolfie; he could turn on us at any time.”

“Pup—” Time began warningly just as Warriors interrupted him.

“I didn’t take you as the judgemental type, Rancher. I think Wolfie has more than earned our trust at this point.”

His voice was cold as stone.

“Be rational, Captain.” Twilight found that somehow, he too had risen to his feet at some point, his heart pounding in his chest because he hadn’t known how fully they had grown complacent around his wolf form and he desperately needed to change that. “How is that wolf so different from the mindless beasts we fight every day? Wolfie is not a pet, he doesn’t think like you and me, he doesn’t feel things like you or I do!”

“He saved my life last week,” Sky said quietly. He looked a little nervous, but he held his ground with unwavering steadiness. 

Twilight could feel himself shaking, growing more desperate and upset by the second.

“That doesn’t mean he won’t maul you in your sleep in the future!”

“Enough of this, Twilight,” Time said fiercely. “I trust the wolf with my life, and so should you.”

“You don’t understand!” He would understand someday, but for now, Twilight knew better. “His brain is not the same as a hylian’s; he has to physically hold himself back from giving in lest he lose himself to his instincts. And it’s difficult. He wants to hunt, always he wants to hunt and kill and maim. It’s a battle every time to remember which side he’s fighting on, to keep himself in check, to not chase the scent of blood and satisfy his desires!”

“How could you possibly know that?” Warriors asked, though from his face he looked like he already knew.

Twilight said nothing. He felt disgusted with himself, just like he always used to on his adventure when he looked into calm waters and saw a filthy beast staring back.

“You’re him, aren’t you?” Wind spoke very quietly, all anger from his voice gone like smoke in the breeze. Twilight wondered how long Wind, Warriors, Sky and Hyrule had already suspected; from their reactions it didn’t seem like a huge surprise to them.

Twilight nodded once slowly, eyes fixed on the ground to avoid looking at their reactions. Chances were at least one of the remaining four who hadn’t known before was going to be angry at this new revelation. It was why he hadn’t told them sooner even though they deserved to know what kind of person—or beast—they were travelling with.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered wretchedly.

There was silence for a moment, and then something launched itself at his chest. He flinched violently, pitchforks and fire burning in his mind’s eye like they were permanently etched there, just waiting to be seen.

Then his visions cleared to reveal a mop of blond hair and two lanky arms wrapped around him.

“Wind?”

“Don’t say all that stuff about yourself, please,” Wind told him. “I don’t care what you think. I meant what I said, I trust you completely, as a hylian and as a wolf.”

Twilight looked up, first at Sky then at Hyrule and finally at Warriors. There was no fear on their faces, no disgust or betrayal, only open tenderness, a kind of solidarity of friendship.

“Is that why you didn’t tell us?” asked Warriors softly. “Because you thought we would react negatively.

Twilight nodded again, guilty in a different way now. He should have known they would be accepting of his other form, they didn’t fear these things the way the small-village people of Ordon did, and their minds were all the more open for it.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Warriors assured him. “We all have our quirks and oddities—the old man has a mask collection for goodness’ sake—nor do we have anything to worry about from you.”

“But, I could—“

“--But you haven’t.” It was Time who interrupted this time. “If I thought you were any danger to any of us, I would have said something before now.”

Wrapped up in Wind’s warm arms and the assurances of his friends, Twilight felt, for the first time in a long time, utterly accepted. 

“Okay,” he said quietly, hugging Wind close. “Okay.”

[killingitreservoirdogsstyle]

I hope I’m doing this right. If I need to add more info I’ll resubmit. But could I please request an HC of a friends to lovers scenario with Mr. Orange?

Hello, and Happy New Year! This was perfect, thank you for following the rules so great! And oh my word, thank you for the request! I'd be HAPPY to do this one for you. Please let me know if it doesn't suffice, and I'll tweak it to fit what you wanted originally.

REQUESTED HEADCANONS

FANDOM: Reservoir Dogs

CHARACTER: Mr. Orange/Freddy Newandyke

SYNOPSIS: A friends to lovers scenario involving you and Mr. Orange

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Romance, heartbreak ( if that’s a tw ), swearing, and light childhood trauma!

You and Freddy had been friends since elementary school, so you have a long history already. You’ve been through everything together, good times and bad--especially in your high school years. 

But you two had already begun experimenting with affection beyond platonic as young kids. I think that at some point we all do, at least in my case. Holding hands and kisses on the cheeks were not uncommon for you two, but that stopped when you two hit middle school. People began making fun of you and Freddy, so you stopped. 

Freddy came from a dysfunctional home, in which his dad was not present; and when he was, he was very cold towards his son. After a blowout with his parents, Orange left home at fifteen and stayed with you and your family for awhile. 

You became accustomed to being his shoulder to cry on. When he would have a flashback in the middle of the night, he’d go straight to your room. You woke up to him gently banging on your door. He’d break down sobbing there, and you’d pull him into a tight hug, bringing him inside.

Your parents had no idea, but many nights you two would fall asleep in each others arms. Freddy felt safe only with you. 

As high school progressed both of you had one or two romantic relationships. Yours was more serious, with a boy/girl named Sam, who was one of the popular kids. Freddy dated a pixie manic type girl that took advantage of him for his money and time. 

Once again, he cried into your chest when she left him for the high school football captain. It broke his heart in two. It lead him to seek comfort from you; which you were more than happy to give. 

“ I-I just don’t think romance is in the cards for me, Y/N...” he’d sniffle, to which you assured him otherwise. 

“ Do you know how many girls and guys would kill to be yours, Freddy? You have nothing to worry about, trust me. It just takes time. Whatever happens, I’m here for you, okay? ” that would make him smile, nodding from where your heart resided. 

By the time graduation came around, Freddy had already joined the police force after his eighteenth birthday. You were worried that he’d get hurt or killed doing work for the cops, legitimate concerns, especially in Los Angeles around that time. Orange reassured you over and over again that he’d be okay, and you had to trust him. 

You left school the same time he did. Instead of going off to college straight away, you two decided to get an apartment together. It’s the same one that you see in Reservoir Dogs; the one you both owned for ten years. 

The friends to lovers switch came two years before the undercover work he did for the LAPD with the Dogs.

It happened when another woman used him for his wallet and affection. From the very beginning you didn’t trust her, and your relationship was one of mutual hatred. Freddy wasn’t able to see, he was too blinded by his love for the girl. It was why he didn’t see what was coming down the pipeline. You tried to warn him, but he didn’t listen.

She was cheating on her abusive husband with Freddy as a way to make her spouse jealous, and want her back. All that money Freddy gave her was spent on drugs, and the gifts she pawned for funds for her addiction. When her husband took her back, she made a big show of leaving him on Valentine’s Day. 

He came home miserable, tears cascading down his cheeks. You quickly pieced together what had happened, when he collapsed into your arms. You held him close. He repeated the words he’d said years ago:

“ I just don’t think romance is in the cards for me, Y/N...” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off. 

“ At least, not with anybody but you...” that left you stunned. You couldn’t reply, too dazed to do anything but gawk. 

He sat on his thighs on the couch, pulling out of your grasp. His hands shook as he cupped your cheek. Unsure, cautious, afraid almost. You didn’t stop him, staring into his baby blue eyes. 

“ I-I love you, Y/N. I really do, I’ve just been in denial.” he whispered. He bit his bottom lip, the anxiety building up in his chest. 

“ Please, don’t turn me down. I know we’ve been friends for so long, and that it’s awkward, but we can try it, and if it doesn’t work--!” 

You silenced his ramblings by grabbing the lapels of his jacket, pulling him forward, and meeting your lips in a kiss. 

His eyes shot open wide for a brief moment until he melted into your touch. His hands took ahold of your waist, pushing you taut against his chest. You could feel the both of your hearts pounding. Adrenaline surged through your veins. Your head spun from the rush of new feelings. The tilting of his face deepened the kiss. His tongue swirled at your bottom lip asking for entrance; you opened your mouth for him. It escalated, your tongues dancing in a sinful waltz. The taste of him was intoxicating more than you could have ever imagined. 

In one swift movement, you two fell back onto the sofa. You never did find out how long you two made out for, feeling each other and releasing the pent up desire--but it was considerable.

When Freddy pulled away, his lips were tinged a faint shade of blue. He grinned, sweeping you up into his arms. He brought you into his bedroom, laying down to cuddle with you. Your face was pressed to his chest, his chin atop your head. He kissed you, a smile on his lips.

“ You don’t know how long I’ve waited, Frederick Newandyke, for you to do that,” you breathed out. He laughed, a rumbling sound in your ears.

“ Believe me, I can guess. It doesn’t feel that much different though, just.. warmer, lighter, I think. Damn, I don’t know what I’m saying anymore.”

You pressed your lips to the tip of his nose, and said: “ I get what you mean, you big dork.” 

He chuckles again and nods. You two lay in silence, enjoying each other’s company. It isn’t until he strips out of his pants to his Spider-Man boxers that you speak. You shed your jeans, leaving you in underwear and a t-shirt. Freddy is not quiet about it, either.

“ Seriously, Y/N, do you know how gorgeous you are? I’ve been wanting to tell you that for years.” 

“ Well, thank you. You aren’t so bad yourself, Officer.” to that, he kisses you, you both settling into bed again. 

So as you two drift off to sleep, you hear each other say:

“ I love you, Freddy.”

“ I love you too, Y/N. Always and forever, baby.” 

I hope that these were okay, and that you have a great day and Happy New Year! Thanks, anon, you rock!

[nugnthopkns]

i’ll wait and i’ll listen

word count: 2.1k

warnings: mentions of deafness/hearing loss, cursing, i think that’s it

recommended listening: new song | maggie rogers & del water gap

a/n: hi! first and foremost, i want to say that this is based off my own personal experiences with a deaf father, and it is in no way a reflection of how other people or families with hearing issues operate. this is just how we live and how my dad goes about life. with that out of the way, enjoy some soft nolan content i threw together in 45 minutes. pretty sure i made this gender neutral, but please point out any mistakes!

There’s no legitimate reason for you to be so apprehensive about Nolan meeting your parents.

He’s a great person who is all you could ever ask for in a partner. The two of you get along like peas in a pod, and honestly most of the time your relationship feels like two friends hanging out. Of course there’s a bit more romance involved – but being with Nolan is so easy you barely have to think about it. 

Your parents aren’t the issue either. They’re both incredibly supportive of your relationship, and anything else you do. If it weren’t for them, you never would have left home – they’re the ones who packed the car and drove you all the way to Philadelphia. You never would have met Nolan if they hadn’t practically forced you out of the house and into the world. 

Truthfully, both parties would probably get along great. Your mother is kind and welcoming, and your father has interests similar to Nolan’s. Your younger siblings adore him – they came to visit one weekend and you took them to an afternoon game at Wells Fargo Centre, and afterwards the four of you went out for burgers. Since then they talk to him regularly, and have been begging for you to return home with Nolan. You can tell your parents are getting antsy too – after all, you’ve been with Nolan for nearly two years. 

Yes, Nolan has a busy schedule that doesn’t allow for much travel, but there have been plenty of opportunities over the years for everyone to get together. You’re the one who always comes up with a reason for him not to meet your parents. One time you were ‘sick’, another you were too busy with work to make the trip home. It isn’t that you’re worried they won’t approve or that Nolan will resent them. You’re apprehensive about bringing Nolan around because you’re worried there will be a communication barrier. 

Your dad is deaf, and Nolan doesn’t exactly enunciate his words well. His voice is also exceptionally deep, which doesn’t help much. It isn’t a secret, your father’s hearing issues, and you’ve spoken to Nolan about them numerous times. Most of the time it’s you fretting about it getting worse and he listens intently while you sob into his chest. Since the hearing loss came from years of working around loud machines, it was gradual, which was frustrating for him. You were in high school when he got hearing aides, but eventually they lost their desired effect. Now your dad relies on reading lips and other non-aural markers like hand gestures to fill in the gaps. 

“Babe, I have to meet them at some point,” Nolan says through a mouthful of pasta. “Especially since I plan on sticking around.”

Your mom had called earlier in the afternoon to ask when you were coming home next. The upcoming weekend is free in your schedule, and when you told her she insisted you bring Nolan. He’s out for the season with the migraine related issues so you couldn’t exactly lie and say he was going to be out of town. Instead, you fed her some bullshit excuse and said you’d check to see if he could move some stuff around. 

“I know,” you sigh. “I just don’t want you or my dad getting frustrated if talking doesn’t go smoothly.”

Nolan pushes his chair back from the table and walks to stand behind you. He rubs your shoulders soothingly and leans down to whisper in your ear. “There are a million and ten other ways I can communicate with him Sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.”

Deep down, you know he’s right. There’s no reason the two of them can’t communicate, even if they can’t do it verbally. After discussing it more and ironing out all your doubts, you call your mom back to let her know both you and Nolan will be coming. A small weight lifts from your chest, knowing that you’ll get the first meeting over with, but dread slowly creeps in. There are so many ways it could go wrong. 

☼☼☼☼

You and Nolan stand on the doorstep of your childhood home hand in hand. As if he can sense how nervous you are, Nolan squeezes gently, reminding you of his unwavering presence. 

“Whatever happens isn’t going to change the fact that I love you,” he says, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. 

To steady yourself from the negative thought swirling in your brain you lean closer to Nolan. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and uses his free hand to knock on the door. Less than two seconds your sister is bounding towards the door and flinging it open. 

“Mom! Y/N and Nolan are here!”

She steps to the side and lets the pair of you in. You shrug off your jacket and hang it on the rack behind the door – Nolan copies. As soon as you’re inside the entryway your mother is wrapping you in a massive hug. 

“I’m so glad you’re home darling,” she says, arms tight around you. “Was the drive okay?”

You go to answer her question but her attention is turned to your very tall boyfriend who is standing beside you like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“You must be Nolan. It’s so nice we could finally meet. Y/N has told me a lot about you.”

Nolan clears his throat before speaking, his deep voice echoing slightly off the ceiling. “All good things I hope,” he laughs, looking to you for reassurance. 

Nodding your head, you join in his laughter. You travel farther into the house, giving your brother a fistbump when you pass him in the hall. When you moved out your parents converted your room into a sophisticated guest bedroom, so there aren’t any embarrassing posters from your teenage years on the walls for Nolan to make fun of. You quickly unpack your suitcase, wanting to get back downstairs and spend time with your family. It’s been a while since you’ve been home, and you missed them more than you thought. 

“Is your dad here?” Nolan asks, hanging the couple of sweaters you guys brought up in the closet. 

You glance at the clock on the wall, you shake your head. “He’ll be home from work just before dinner.” 

The two of you head downstairs to chill with your siblings, but not without sharing a few kisses that make your spine tingle. At your brother’s insistence the four of you head to the basement to partake in an air hockey tournament. Though Nolan can hold his own in the NHL, he’s rather miserable at this iteration of the game. Your sister eliminates him in under five minutes, and after a hard fought battle you defeat your brother. 

Nolan tries to coach you before the gold medal game but you laugh him off. “Nol, you were terrible. I think I can hold my own.”

He breathes out harshly through his nose, but you know he isn’t upset with your teasing. “Fine,” he mumbles, “See if you can win without my all-star advice.”

Your sister manages to win in a shootout. It was a close game, and you challenge her to a rematch after dinner. She accepts, insisting you’ll lose again. Nolan bets he can race her around the property, so you move outside. Your mom lets you know dinner will be ready soon, and you throw her a thumbs up. 

Though your sister is a fast runner, she’s got nothing on Nolan’s six foot frame. He passes her with ease, cheekily throwing her the finger as he rushes by. You’re the finish line and instead of stopping when he reaches you, Nolan throws you over his shoulder and continues running through the yard. 

Your laugh rings out as you kick your feet. “Put me down!” you shriek. When he makes no attempt to prove he listened to your cries, you try again. “Nol, come on, put me down. If you fall it’ll be really bad.”

Knowing you’re right, Nolan stops moving and gingerly places you on the ground. His hands move to cup your face and he plants a warm kiss on your lips. You refuse to let it get too far, but you lean into him slightly and sigh when he pulls away. 

In the distance you hear your mom calling for dinner. “Kids, it’s time to eat,” she says. “Your father just got home.”

Your heart beat rises exponentially, and your steps drag slightly as you get closer to the door. Nolan notices, but doesn’t say anything. Instead he flashes you a smile that’s reserved just for you and makes your heart melt. 

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll make sure I don’t mumble.”

In the dining room, you guide Nolan to sit beside your dad. You figure it’s the spot where he has the best chance of hearing your boyfriend, and no one seems to protest. They give each other a polite nod while the rest of you rush to place everything on the table and serve the food. 

Once everyone is sitting, Nolan takes the initiative to introduce himself. “It’s nice to meet you Sir,” he says a bit slower than his normal speaking voice, making sure to clearly enunciate his words. 

There’s no response from your father, and you suck in a breath. You watched him focus on Nolan’s lips while he spoke, but you fear he still couldn’t quite understand what your boyfriend said. It takes a few more beats for him to process what was spoken, but then your dad is cracking a smile and holding his hand out for Nolan to shake. 

“Glad Y/N isn’t hiding you from us anymore. I thought the first time I’d meet you was at the engagement party.” His voice is a few decibels louder than everyone else’s, due to not being able to hear himself, but Nolan doesn’t seem to mind. 

They slip into an easy conversation about work and hunting, asking each other a million questions. There’s barely room for any one else to contribute but the rest of you don’t mind – it’s been a long time since your dad has been able to go this long without asking someone for assistance. Of course there’s a few bumps in the road – Nolan not speaking clearly or looking elsewhere while telling a story, but that was to be expected. You step in when needed, repeating phrases and recreating scenes with hand actions. Overall, the meal goes swimmingly, and the two men leave the table eagerly to swap stories. 

You spend the time catching up with your mother, and she gushes over how Nolan is handling everything. “He’s doing so well,” she exclaims. “He’s so patient with your dad, waiting to make he understood what was said before continuing, and he doesn’t have an issue repeating himself a few times. You really lucked out Y/N.”

“I know,” you say honestly. “He’s simply the best.”

It’s a few hours later that Nolan finds his way back to you. You arch your brow, wondering what he got up to, and he explains that your dad took him for a walk in the forest to show him the deer he’d been tracking the past couple of weeks. It’s heartwarming that they get along so well, and you feel a little silly for fretting over what would happen. 

☼☼☼☼

“Your dad is nice,” Nolan shrugs as you crawl into bed beside him. “I could hardly tell he was deaf most of the time.”

You tuck yourself into his side and hum. “He does a great job of not letting it define him,” you agree. “But thank you for being so patient with him.”

A small peck is placed to your shoulder blade and you sigh at the contact of Nolan’s lips on your skin. “He did grumble about how my voice is too deep,” he laughs. “Said he could barely hear me. Once I knew that I made sure to speak clearly and let him read my lips.”

You’re speechless. None of your friends or past romantic partners had made that much of an effort to treat your dad like he was a person. They got short with him for needing them to slow down or repeat themselves, and often would refuse to see him again. It’s part of the reason you were so hesitant to introduce Nolan – you wanted to protect him from another person who might treat him differently because he can’t hear.

“I really fucking love you,” you whisper into the darkness. 

You can practically hear the grin in Nolan’s voice as he speaks. “I really fucking love you too.”

The rest of your stay will go just fine, you think as you drift to sleep. There was nothing to worry about, and you can’t wait to watch a friendship blossom between your dad and boyfriend. 

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales @kiedhara @tortito @boqvistsbabe​ if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

[howlonguntilcarolinecries]

I’m about to unload all my thoughts on the In The Heights movie. Spoilers ahead! (I saw it in the movie theater and then four more times — so far — on HBO Max.)

In The Heights was a perfect adaption of a show that was already excellent, and it still somehow managed to fix the things that I would have personally fixed in a movie version.

* They changed the not-okay lyrics in "96,000" that I would also change today, and I barely noticed the changes! (Specifically, "more O's than a phone book in Tokyo" and the part about a certain now-former president serving as Benny's golf caddy.)

* They took out a few of the songs, including the two that I generally skip when I'm listening to the original Broadway cast recording -- "Inútil" (about Kevin Rosario's childhood, a topic that was covered sufficiently in movie conversation with Benny) and "Enough," a song sung by Nina's mother (who is not present in the movie -- does that make Nina a Disney princess?) about the conflict between Nina and Kevin. Good editing choices.

* The Nina/Benny fight in "Blackout" is no longer about Nina and Benny and rather about Usnavi/Vanessa, which makes more sense to me. (That part in the show always bugged me, with Nina and Benny having this blowout fight one second, and then making out the next second.)

* So many amazingly choreographed dance sequences! I felt like we were legitimately watching it on Broadway!

* Olga Merediz *belting* in "Paciencia y Fe"! Sing it, OG Abuela Claudia!

* I *do* wish that both Nina and Vanessa belted more in this movie, but maybe that's jut because I'm so used to hearing Mandy Gonzalez and Karen Olivo in those roles. (Cue Seth Rudetsky: "AND, she's a belter.")

* I appreciated that the Nina plotline was more about Nina vs. microaggressions rather than focusing on the romance with a high school boyfriend. (Viewers who are interested in the Nina college plotline should read 'The Inequality Machine.')

* I just noticed that "schmutz on your face" (from "It Won't Be Long Now") was moved onto the stain on Usnavi's shirt!

* A few anachronisms that remained: Benny offering to buy Nina a calling card, and Usnavi reminiscing about blasting Big Pun tapes (if in the year 2020/2021 he is approaching 30, was he 6 years old when he was blasting Big Pun tapes?).

* Brandon: "Is that Lin as Paul Giamatti as Piragua Guy?"

* They did such a great job casting *all* of these roles! The kid who plays Sonny killed that pool choreo in "96,000"!

I might add more bullet points as I continue to rewatch and think about this adaptation, but if you're looking to make something your return-to-the-theaters-post-covid summer feature film, I highly recommend this one!

(And yes, I cried — as always — when Abuela Claudia died, but not as much as my husband, who was weeping throughout the entire second half of the movie!)

[raziroo]

Chapter Four | I Take A Liking To Lilac All Of A Sudden

Pairing: Lotor x Reader (There you go)

Genre: Angst? I don't knowww

Warnings: Mentions of cancer, mild swearing

Word Count: 1,676

Author’s Note: This is kind of a filler? I can't write long shit in one sitting, so. It's important to reader and lotor's relationship, tho.

‘Good luck. Come back alive, all of you, alright?’ I asked, my eyes roving over the three people standing before me – Matt, Pidge, and Shiro. ‘It’s, like, one of the simplest things you could do. You give Lotor, you get Mr. Holt. Simple. Very simple and easily doable. Right?’ My gaze dragged over all of them once more as I picked at my nails nervously. As much as I was aware of the fact that this trade wasn’t simple and easily doable, I knew that I would legitimately have a nervous breakdown if I didn’t spew lies through my teeth.

Shiro smiled at me lightly. ‘Of course. I’ll make sure nothing goes wrong. You guys take care too.’

‘If, however, anything happens,’ Allura chided, ‘the other lions will arrive as soon as possible.’

‘Yeah,’ Pidge said with a wry smirk, ‘so try not to pass out.’

‘Okay,’ I nodded my head rapidly, ‘yeah, okay, I – I can do that.’

‘Good. Well, we’ll get going then,’ Shiro announced, and turned around, the others following him.

Hopefully, all would go well.

. . . . .

You know what? Everything actually went relatively well. Yes, my hunch turned out to be correct and Zarkon chose to go through with the ‘I was lying all along! Bwahahaha!’ route and ended up getting himself killed at the hands of his son, but overall, I’d say it was a win-win, seeing that we got Pidge’s father back (thank God, who knows what havoc she’d wreak if we ended up not getting Sam back) and the evil maniacal tyrant who’d been ruling over the universe for ten thousand years died.

The one downside was that now there needed to be a new Emperor, because following Zarkon’s death, not only the Galra empire, but simultaneously the entire universe had gone into a state of chaos too. There was no doubt that underlings and generals would try to take over smaller parts of the empire, and once that happened, Voltron being able to do anything would be a stretch.

And, according to Lotor, a ceremony to crown the new emperor, the Kral Zera, would now be taking place. Once he said that, he really didn’t need to say more – it was obvious what his implications were. A new emperor was to be crowned, and if Voltron was to achieve peace, Lotor would have to go and secure the throne. It was a sensible thought to be had, no problem. The thing was, to reach the Kral Zera, which was taking place in two days, in itself was a decision to be taken with utmost thought. The Paladins just didn’t have enough time to decide.

On the one hand, Shiro and Lotor were adamant that the latter be crowned emperor; the other Paladins, however, were justifiably hesitant. I had been standing there listening to them going back and forth, not saying a word myself, like always.

To be honest, I just wanted to go sleep. For some reason, I’d been feeling overly anxious these past few days. White was still not responding to me, I was having regular dreams about the day I woke up here. It was always that one day, that first conversation I had with Shiro. It was as if my subconsciousness too wanted me to reach out to Shiro because there was clearly something weird going on with him.

My suspicions only solidified when I heard Shiro’s voice boom through the room. My head snapped up. Lance with a look of shock and the slightest bit of fear on his face, Shiro’s visage twisted with uncharacteristic anger.

‘Shiro. I think you should just relax a little.’ The man turned to me, brows pinched.

‘I am relaxed -’

‘No, I really think you aren’t… so, like… take it easy, yeah?’ I asked, jumping my eyebrows, arms still folded in front of me, maintaining a calm yet defensive posture. I could feel the entire room’s gazes on me. After all, I almost never spoke in such discussions, or any discussions, really, and indirectly opposing Shiro, of all people, was way too brave a thing for me to do.

Shiro looked at me with slight disbelief, a glint in his eye challenging me to speak up. ‘You want me to take it easy? Take it easy? The fate of the universe depends on this, taking it easy is really not an option right now. I’ve put my foot down – as the Leader of Voltron, I’ve taken this decision. You aren’t someone befitted to oppose me.’

Ok, wow. Everyone shared the same opinion apparently, as now the silence seemed piercing. Clicking my tongue, I tilted my head. ‘Well, maybe not as a Paladin, which I’m not, or a member of the coalition. But as a friend, Shiro, you’ve been acting strange. Everyone realises this. You realise this. … Maybe, I don’t know… maybe all this reflecting on you’ve been doing, maybe the role of leader is taking a toll on you? I, heh,’ I chuckle, ‘I really am not sure. But you’re not relaxed, and you’re not acting yourself.’

‘Could you please not tell me how to be a Paladin?’

‘While you all waste time squabbling, sinister forces are conspiring to fill the Galra power void. If I don’t return to claim the throne, there’s no telling who will.’

Does being royalty instantly make you a hundred times more dramatic? Sinister forces? Deadass?

I walked out.

. . . . .

Shiro went behind our back.

Yeah.

Acting like a complete bitch, he took Lotor to the Kral Zera, where, for your information, he could’ve been blown up. By Keith.

I wanted to deck Shiro. Instead, I visited White. I had hopes she’d respond to me, since I’d been brave and spoken my mind. I prayed on all the Gods and Deities above that my expectations became reality.

Yeah, they didn’t. She didn’t budge. The whole entire two goddamned hours I sat in front of White, she ignored me. Frustrated, I ended up punching her, resulting in bleeding knuckles. Lotor saw that, by the way. He seemed to always be keeping an eye on White, regardless of me being there or not, which I admit is a little strange, but I wasn’t judging. These aliens seemed to worship the Lions.

Lotor also invited us to the Galra headquarters, and lord oh my lord, was it fancy. Allura had gone off to do research with Lotor (I’d been about to make a joke about what “research” those two were really about to do, if you catch my drift, but then I saw Lance looking at the pair glumly, and thought better of it. I’d lightly punched Lance on the shoulder, and raised my eyebrows so as to say ‘They’re gorgeous aliens who could give Bella Hadid and Harry Styles a run for their money, it can’t be helped.’ He laughed.) I accompanied Hunk, Lance and Pidge in their shenanigans for a while, but ended up wandering around the place.

Space was beautiful. Even through a window, I wanted to just stare at it for as long as I could, enjoying a show more realistic than ever before. It was really similar to all the Marvel movies I’d watched; I felt a weird sense of pride at that realization. I remembered how I’d cried at the end of Infinity War, my friends clinging to me and bawling as well; how loud I’d squealed at an absolutely steamy piece of Kakashi fanart Cory had drawn; how happy I’d been when Sasha, my neighbour and childhood friend, had come out victorious after battling cancer for years.

I hadn’t realized when the tears had started slipping down my cheeks. I wiped at them, but they wouldn’t go. Sniffling and wiping so furiously my skin would get burned when I heard footsteps, I turned to see Lotor approaching me.

‘Hey -’ shit, my voice was so thick. Clearing my throat obnoxiously loud, I greeted him again. ‘Hey, uh… what… how’s yours and Allura’s research going?’

‘The research has been going quite smoothly.’

‘Hmm. Nice.’

Lotor was staring – no, correction - scrutinising me. I could feel it, his intense as hell eyes burning into the side of my face. I wasn’t going to give up, though. I stared at the window with as much concentration as he me.

He was the first to speak up. Ha.

‘You’re not of the Paladins.’

‘Really? I didn’t know, thanks,’ I still wasn’t looking at him.

‘Deepest apologies if I offended you -’

‘You didn’t, it’s okay.’

‘…’

‘…’

‘…If you wish to answer, why do you appear… distant, compared to the other Paladins? You say they are your friends, but there’s such scarce interaction… you seem acquaintances at best.’

‘… They are my friends. I like to think so, because, well… because I don’t have anyone to go back home to.’

‘Oh. My apologies, I didn’t mean to pry.’

‘You didn’t pry, chill. It’s not that my family’s dead or anything, it’s just that… no, well, my family is dead, but… like, they’ve been dead for around three hundred or so years…?’ I turned to Lotor, brows furrowed. He looked less confused than me.

‘Sorry, no, that’s – that’s shit explanation, um… you could say… I… I’ve lived past my time. I’m alive when I’m not supposed to be.’

I didn’t explicitly mention, as you can see, that I was a time traveller, because I wasn’t really one with that fact yet. I’d accepted it, yes, but that didn’t mean I was comfortable with it. It was still a foreign truth, something I didn’t take great joy in talking or thinking about.

When I turned to Lotor, I felt like he’d understood what he needed to already.

It was bizarre. A lilac alien was the last person I would expect to understand me so easily, but it was what it was.

[dahlia-coccinea]

Wuthering Heights - Chapter 3

This is a somewhat difficult chapter to discuss fully in a single post. It introduces so many important themes and has the first glimpse of the story of the earlier inhabitants of the Heights. Sorry if this is too long - I've tried to keep my comments concise. It is difficult for me to not mention every tiny detail I like lol 

We learn that Zillah has worked at the house a year or two and is aware that Catherine’s old room is off-limits but seems to know little else. It shows that despite the emotional unloading that Heathcliff does to Nelly he is very reserved about all that has happened in the past. 

It seems the house has been ruled by chaos for years and there is an instinctual need for the inhabits to defend themselves against it. We see this when Lockwood first climbs into the box bed and closes the doors he says he “felt secure against the vigilance of Heathcliff, and every one else.” The need to shut out the world and crawling into small spaces is repeated later in this chapter with Catherine's diary details how, with Heathcliff, in an attempt to avoid the cruelty of Hindley and Frances “made ourselves as snug as our means allowed in the arch of the dresser,” and closed off the world by fastening their pinafores together. 

We get some other interesting glimpses of Catherine and Heathcliff early friendship. It is quite popular to say that Heathcliff is Catherine’s whip and he is a blank slate for her, but I think this diary entry is another example of their oddly egalitarian relationship. First, we have this scene of Catherine lashing out against their ill-treatment:

I took my dingy volume by the scroop, and hurled it into the dog-kennel, vowing I hated a good book. Heathcliff kicked his to the same place. Then there was a hubbub! 

That Heathcliff swiftly follows her lead certainly shows a reciprocation of the other’s attitude and worldview - or simply that if one is going to get in trouble then the other will follow suit. Still, I do hold that he doesn’t just mimic her or do as she wishes. We get a number of examples that show neither play a clear leader in their antics with one happening shortly after this incident. Catherine's diary continues: 

I have got the time on with writing for twenty minutes; but my companion is impatient, and proposes that we should appropriate the dairywoman’s cloak, and have a scamper on the moors, under its shelter. A pleasant suggestion—and then, if the surly old man come in, he may believe his prophecy verified—we cannot be damper, or colder, in the rain than we are here.

Here Heathcliff takes the lead in coming up with more plans to get further into trouble and it seems Catherine is more than pleased to go along with it. 

There are other, now iconic, details of Catherine’s character in this chapter. Such as this description of the box bed from Lockwood:

The ledge, where I placed my candle, had a few mildewed books piled up in one corner; and it was covered with writing scratched on the paint. This writing, however, was nothing but a name repeated in all kinds of characters, large and small—Catherine Earnshaw, here and there varied to Catherine Heathcliff, and then again to Catherine Linton.

And later:

Catherine’s library was select, and its state of dilapidation proved it to have been well used, though not altogether for a legitimate purpose: scarcely one chapter had escaped a pen-and-ink commentary—at least the appearance of one—covering every morsel of blank that the printer had left. Some were detached sentences; other parts took the form of a regular diary, scrawled in an unformed, childish hand. At the top of an extra page (quite a treasure, probably, when first lighted on) I was greatly amused to behold an excellent caricature of my friend Joseph,—rudely, yet powerfully sketched. An immediate interest kindled within me for the unknown Catherine, and I began forthwith to decipher her faded hieroglyphics.

Catherine holed up in the box bed and writing on every spare bit of paper she can get her hands on and scratching her name in the paint, tell of someone who has no one to talk to. She’s alone and is compelled to at least make sense of herself with ink and paper. Nelly does say later on that “there was not a soul else that she might fashion into an adviser” beside Nelly herself. Which is a poor adviser, considering how Nelly disliked her throughout her childhood. 

Adding to Catherine’s loneliness is the endless abuse of Heathcliff and herself, at the hands of seemingly everyone in the house. In this short excerpt from her diary, we are told Hindley’s treatment of Heathcliff is “atrocious,” and that now he is the new master they are no longer allowed to play, and “a mere titter is sufficient to send us into corners.” Heathcliff has his hair pulled by Frances, Catherine’s ears are boxed by Joseph and they’re both berated and verbally punished by him. Finally Hindley “seizing one of us by the collar, and the other by the arm, hurled both into the back-kitchen” where she says that outside on the moors “cannot be damper, or colder.” Upon their return and proceeding punishment she says she’s cried until her head ached. Consistent with what we later hear her tell Nelly, that Heathcliff’s miseries are her own, it is not her punishment or ill-treatment that makes her so upset but the casting out of Heathcliff. She writes: 

“Poor Heathcliff! Hindley calls him a vagabond, and won’t let him sit with us, nor eat with us any more; and, he says, he and I must not play together, and threatens to turn him out of the house if we break his orders. He has been blaming our father (how dared he?) for treating H. too liberally; and swears he will reduce him to his right place—”

Critics that suggest Catherine is glassy-eyed and naive idealist really gloss over these excerpts in my opinion. There is a constant downplaying of her abuse compared to the other characters among those that seemingly think she’s the only character with moral agency and therefore the cause of all problems in the story. 

I love how strange the encounter that Lockwood has with the book “Seventy Times Seven, and the First of the Seventy-First,” and the following dream is when first reading Wuthering Heights. Hardly anything in WH is superfluous and when rereading it this makes much more sense. This is quite an interesting segue into meeting Catherine’s ghost, and later learning more of her life. Forgiveness is such an important aspect in the book and will come up many times. Notably, while on her deathbed, Catherine tells Heathcliff she has forgiven him and that he should forgive her. 

I think it is amusing and also very interesting how in Lockwood’s dream he’s walking with Joseph (in itself is very metaphorical) and Joseph tells him he should have brought a “pilgrim’s staff” and that Joseph’s staff is really just a “heavy-headed cudgel.”

It’s unsurprising the appearance of Catherine’s ghost is so iconic. It’s impossible to discern if it is merely Lockwood’s dream or him actually encountering her spirit. There are details about her that Lockwood, at this point, does not yet know. Still, he does make many attempts to logically explain what happens. Either way, the imagery of the scene is both frightening and tragic. 

We get some really interesting glimpses of Heathcliff’s character in this scene. Normally he is very collected and if his emotions are out of control they tend towards anger, but here we see him truly terrified and unable to maintain composure after finding Lockwood in the room.

Heathcliff stood near the entrance, in his shirt and trousers; with a candle dripping over his fingers, and his face as white as the wall behind him. The first creak of the oak startled him like an electric shock: the light leaped from his hold to a distance of some feet, and his agitation was so extreme, that he could hardly pick it up.

Even after Lockwood identifies himself Heathcliff is said to have found it “impossible to hold it [the candle] steady” and was “crushing his nails into his palms, and grinding his teeth to subdue the maxillary convulsions.” It is interesting that Heathcliff doesn’t become so angry that he throws Lockwood out. It’s another oddly humanizing moment for him. An overly dramatic author would likely have him behave like a complete monster, but he instead tells him to finish the night there and not to scream like that again. This is a scene that I wish we could have some perspective from Heathcliff. Not only is he startled by a noise coming from Catherine’s old room but then Lockwood adds to his distress by rambling about Catherine saying:

And that minx, Catherine Linton, or Earnshaw, or however she was called—she must have been a changeling—wicked little soul! She told me she had been walking the earth these twenty years: a just punishment for her mortal transgressions, I’ve no doubt!

This and Lockwood’s further talk which makes it apparent he has snooped and glimpsed a little bit of Catherine’s and Heathcliff’s past, does set Heathcliff off: 

“What can you mean by talking in this way to me!” thundered Heathcliff with savage vehemence. “How—how dare you, under my roof?—God! he’s mad to speak so!” And he struck his forehead with rage.

Lockwood doesn’t quite understand this reaction saying:

I did not know whether to resent this language or pursue my explanation; but he seemed so powerfully affected that I took pity and proceeded with my dreams; affirming I had never heard the appellation of “Catherine Linton” before, but reading it often over produced an impression which personified itself when I had no longer my imagination under control. Heathcliff gradually fell back into the shelter of the bed, as I spoke; finally sitting down almost concealed behind it. I guessed, however, by his irregular and intercepted breathing, that he struggled to vanquish an excess of violent emotion. 

And later when watching Heathcliff call for Cathy through the window:

There was such anguish in the gush of grief that accompanied this raving, that my compassion made me overlook its folly, and I drew off, half angry to have listened at all, and vexed at having related my ridiculous nightmare, since it produced that agony; though why was beyond my comprehension. 

At one point Lockwood also believes Heathcliff to be “dashing a tear from his eyes” during their conversation. Of course, he is confused because he doesn’t know that one of Heathcliff’s few fixations has been looking for signs of Catherine for the last 17ish years. 

I’ve mentioned this before, but something that doesn’t happen in the book because Heathcliff never narrates it, but I think if someone retold the story or made a film adaptation it could be interesting to explore, is how Heathcliff came to find Catherine’s writing on the wall. She must have written it shortly before she talks to Nelly since she’s already considering marrying Linton, and Heathcliff must still be living at the Heights since his name is there also. When Heathcliff returns three years later we know that he takes over Catherine’s old room so really he should have discovered it the first night there, probably after having visited the Grange. 

@astrangechoiceoffavourites has mentioned this in one their posts, but another great aspect of the book is the background happenings that are very realistic for the time and particularly farm life. Cats and dogs roam about, Heathcliff mentions that the house goes to bed at “nine in winter, and rise at four,” and there are mentions of chores, etc. The details create a realistic backdrop and ground the characters in reality. I feel like the novel is never overly sentimental because of this and it really strengthens it. 

After Heathcliff comes down to the kitchen where the household is starting their day, we are instantly reminded how terrible Heathcliff can be when he swears at and threatens to hit Cathy for not making herself useful and working for her keep. Ironically, he tells her, “You shall pay me for the plague of having you eternally in my sight,” when, as I’ve mentioned before he has her sit at the dining table with everyone else. He also could just send her away if he despises her so much. 

I see a lot of similarity between the glimpse we get of Catherine Earnshaw from her diary and the current situation Cathy Heathcliff is in. Their situations are certainly different but both are in a similar state of abuse and neglect and both are quite self-possessed and antagonistic towards those that try to control them. They also are associated with books (Catherine filling them up with writing and Cathy reading) and have an affinity for animals. In this chapter it is mentioned that while Cathy is reading she has “to push away a dog, now and then, that snoozled its nose overforwardly into her face.” There are other similar encounters, such as when the dogs at the Heights come to greet Catherine Earnshaw upon her return from the Lintons. 

I’m sure I’m forgetting points I want to make in these posts. I’ll probably to a larger summary after I complete the book and try to tie together some of the ideas I’ve mentioned. Its also difficult because I keep wanting to bring up things that happen later in the book and I want to make a note of it now - but I’m also trying to reread as impartially as possible. Which is really an impossible task lol. 

@astrangechoiceoffavourites

[demivampirew]

I would give up everything for you.

A Charles Brandon x Mary Tudor (written as reader) (Henry’s sister) one shot

You can find more of my writings in the Masterlist

Warnings: Death, heartbreak, crying, unwanted arranged marriage (and talking about being consummated).

Summary: Shortly after becoming a widow, Henry summons you back to England for he has arranged a new marriage for you.

A/N (Important to understand the story): For those who don’t know, in the show they’d merged both Henry’s sisters into one: Margaret. In reality, he had two sisters, the one mentioned who ended up marrying the King of Scotland, James IV, becoming the Queen consort of said country (and after the death of her husband, Queen regent in name of her son for two years). Mary, the other sister, was married to the King of France, Louis XII for a few months, until his death and soon he was succeeded by his son-in-law Francis I -the King of France from the show, and his daughter Claude as Queen Consort- she couldn’t reign for the law forbid a woman to rule the country back at that time. Shortly after the death of the King, Charles was in charge of bringing Mary safe back to England, but in reality that was a secret plan for them to marry in secret in France, as Mary confessed to King Francis. It isn’t known when and how exactly they fell in love but it surely was before her marriage to the late King of France. They married in secret but then they had a public wedding because they suspected Mary to be pregnant and they wanted their kid to be legitimate.

For my story, I mixed a bit of the show’s plot with actual events. The main characters are the same from the show, except from Mary, written from a perspective of reader, who wasn’t on the show (Margaret’s story in this one-shot is the same from history and not the one from the series). I used the arranged marriage with the King of Portugal’s plot from drama purposes (this never happened in reality, because like I’ve said, Mary married Charles before going back to London, and she had married the King of France with the promise that she would marry who she wanted after that or she would become a nun - which Henry did not want because he would lose the Dowager’s money if she did that. -although in this story she doesn’t threaten him with becoming a nun.)

Disclaimer: English isn’t my first language and write in another period of time can be a bit difficult. I tried my best, so I apologize if I made mistakes.

Tag list: @lunedelorient @henrythickcavill @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @mary-ann84 @desperate-and-broken @peakygroupie @summersong69 @ivvitm1109 @madbaddic7ed @iloveyouyen @the-soot-sprite @hell1129-blog @whyyoudothistomecavill @thetaoofzoe @thereisa8ella​

"The Queen of France, Your Majesty" announced one of the guards as you enter the room. Henry was sitting on the throne. There were a few guards there as well as Charles and William Compton, who were standing next to the door. - Dear sister! - your brother exclaimed as he stood up and approached you, grabbing your arms and placing a kiss on your cheek. - My poor sister, I'm terribly sorry for the lost of your dear husband.- "dear husband"? It felt as if he was mocking you, after all the only reason you married the late King of France, Louis XII was because he forced you to for that marriage forced an alliance between the two countries.

Being married to an old man was not a pretty thing. Being forced to consummate that marriage and with a crowd of people to witness it. Luckily, it didn't last for long because not long after your coronation as the new Queen, on Christmas' eve your husband died for an illness. After his death, his son-in-law, Francis I, inherit the throne with his daughter, Claude as Queen Consort. Even though your marriage was short, you were a loved Queen and you could have stayed in France if you desire it, but your brother had other plans for you. For you to agree to marry the late French King, he promised you that you were going to be able to marry whom you choose after his death, but sadly for you, he had no plans to keep his word. He ordered the Duke of Suffolk to escort you safely back to England. Charles was a loyal friend to Henry, but you succeeded to confess your brother's intentions for your return to England - you knew that if he wanted you back so quickly was not because he missed his beloved sister, but because there was something he needed from you. "He wants you to marry the King of Portugal" he confessed finally succumbing to pressure. After finding out that your worse nightmare was a reality, you ordered everyone on the ship to leave you alone and you cried on the way back.

- As sorry as I am for your loss, I must admit sister that I would need you to put aside your grief and take the King of Portugal as your new husband. With the rise of power of the Holy Roman Emperor, we need new alliances and he is more than pleased to become out ally if you marry him. He's seen your portrait and is enchanted by your beauty.- he informed you with a smirk. You remained silent and made no gestures. - So, my dear sister, would you consent to marry the King? - My consent is not needed, Your Majesty, for the King always does what he wants.- you finally said, your voice emotionless. There he was, your older brother. He could be charming for a moment and a second later be the devil himself if you crossed him. He didn't like when anyone defied him, especially women. His face showed no signs of rejoicing anymore, just contained anger. - We are at war, my dear sister.- he explained angrily. - We could face an invasion from Spain and if that would happen, we will need soldiers and money and he could provide that to us. - You are at war, brother. This is all because of you. If the Holy Roman Emperor is planning to attack England, it is because you broke your promise, like you always do, and set aside his aunt, humiliating her all. And that's because you had fallen in love with another woman. In your eyes, dear brother, you are the only one allowed to marry for love and you do not care who has to pay for your desires.- you replied bitterly. -If you want me to marry that old man, breaking the promise you once made me, at least you could have avoided me the displeasure of seeing your face and should have asked the Duke of Suffolk to escort me directly to Portugal since you know that no matter what are my choices, at the end I must be a loyal subject and obey you or I'll suffer the traitor's faith.

His hands were closed forming fists; he was containing his rage. If there was something Henry hated more than anything else was being defied. If it was not for the fact that he needed your Queen Dowager's money and the perks that your new marriage would bring to him, he would have you banned from court.

- Charles, take her to her chambers immediately.- he ordered and walked away, returning to his throne.

You bowed to him and allowed Charles to escort you back to your bedchambers. Once in the room, he closed the door to be sure no one would hear you speak.

- The Queen would be wise not to cross her brother.- he advised you. He spoke softly, surely it was because he did not want to be heard, but there was another thing in his voice: worry. - Why not?- you asked; it was a sarcastic question, you knew exactly why you should no speak to Henry that way for he was a King before your blood. - He could vanish you from court or worse.- he explained. - Great! I would rather be banned from court or dying to have to marry another old King.- you admitted, sighing bitterly. - You should not say that Your Majesty.- he pleaded. - Charles, would you stop calling me Your Majesty? I have known you my entire life. I'm still the same Mary I have always been, just less trusting and much more unhappy.- you confessed. - But now you are the King of France, Your Majesty. I should treat you with nothing but the proper respect. - I am Queen Dowager, I don't have the same importance that an actual queen has. - You are soon to be Queen again.- he reminded you and a tear fell from your eye; you wiped it away quickly. He stared at you with sadness on his eyes. He was probably hurt that you had to go through that again. - I rather die.- you repeated and look to the floor -You are lucky Charles, you could marry whom you choose.- you sighed. - I cannot.- he said with sadness. - Who is that you want and can't have, Charles? -you asked sarcastically.

The Duke of Suffolk looked you directly into your eyes, giving you the answer to your question without even saying a word.

Before leaving England, the two of you were close. He was this ladies' man and you were the King's little sister, but you started to see him differently in the year previous to your marriage. He was sweet, funny and protective. It was clear that you were not a just his friend's sister anymore, but a smart, funny and delightful woman. You had long talks while you played with carts and spent a lot of time together before your departure.

Charles excused himself and was about to leave. You called his name and when he turned to face you, you ran into his arms and kissed him. He pulled you closer to him as he stopped fighting his conscience. He probably felt that it was wrong, but he couldn't keep denying his feelings. After the long and awaited kiss, he pressed his forehead against yours and sighed.

- Escape with me.- you pleaded. - What? -he asked confused. - We could go to France. Francis is not a fan of my brother and he had nothing but sweet thoughts about me. He will be delighted to have me back there and surely he will support us and protect us if Henry decides to seek vengeance. - you assured him.- Please, Charles. - I... I cannot do that, I am sorry.- he said avoiding to look at you. - I will not betray my King. - Is it because he is your childhood friend or because you do not want to lose your lands and titles, Duke of Suffolk? - you questioned bitterly. He did not say a word, but it was not necessary; his shameful look said it all. Your poor heart broke into a million pieces. Not only you would have to marry an old man once more, but the man you loved preferred his nobility and money over you and your happiness. No matter what the future had set for you, it surely would not be a happy one.

A month passed before you were set to leave for Portugal. As you demanded, Charles stood away from you. The days passed and all you could do was crying about your cruel destiny. If at least you could have the luck that your sister Margaret had of marrying a young King whom she fell in love with, but no, that was not your fate. You were meant to be unhappy for the rest of your days.

Charles' eyes met yours. You could feel his pain but you could not be sorry for him, after all, he could have had you if he would have been brave enough to fight for you and, surely soon he would forget all about you and find solace in another woman's arms while you had to be with a man much older than you whom you didn't know. You quickly look to other side making sure he noticed that you were ignoring him and stood there, waiting in the room full of people for your brother to show up to say goodbye.

Henry appeared shortly with Cardinal Wolsey by his side. He approached you a kissed you " My dear sister. Fare you well on your journey. Remember the King of Portugal, your future husband, loves you and respects you. You must love him in return." - he said faking affection when in reality it was a command and a warning. He looked into your shiny, watery eyes but that didn't seem to have any effects on him. After crossing him the day of your return to England, he must be more than happy to see you gone.

The King was about to leave the place when the Duke of Suffolk called his attention.

- Your Majesty, I would like to have a word" - Charles pleaded. Henry looked at him with confusion but gestured him to speak. He walked a few steps forward and got on his knee in front of his best friend. - My heart forces me to beg you to save your sister from this marriage for that would make her unhappy.- he said firmly. There were gasps among the people present. You were breathless and your heart was beating an at exhilarating speed. Henry stared at him, his eyes showed both shock and anger. - As a sign of gratitude for your kindness towards the Queen of France, I will resign to my title, renounced to my lands and accept to be banned from court and any other punishment Your Grace sees suitable for my outrageous request.

For the first time since your mother's death, you saw tears fell from your brother's eyes. It didn't come as such as a surprise to you, you might be his sister by blood, but Charles was his brother by choice; they grew up together and he was his most faithful companion and now he put him in a position Henry must have surely hated. If he agreed to let you escape from this marriage, he would have to punish Charles from defying him in front of people from court. If he rejected his plead, people would know that he forced you into a marriage you didn't want to and he would further loss the affection of his subjects, who were already unhappy about his decision of leaving the beloved Queen Catherine for Anne Boleyn. Whatever decision Harry took, surely it would not have a happy ending for Charles. You knew you were right at the moment your brother stormed out of the room without saying a word.

Anthony Knivert, one of your brother's closest friends, walked you back to your chambers after Cardinal Wolsey ordered him to do so. The trip to Portugal has been postponed until after the King came with a resolution about the matter. As impossible as it seemed, you were even more heartbroken than before. There was no way Charles could cross your brother like that and no get punished and all because of your fault. If you just accepted your destiny quietly and had not made him feel guilty for choosing lands and his noble title over you, this would not have happened. Now, because of your stubbornness, he could face death.

It was around midnight when you heard someone knocking at your door. After permitting to enter your bedchambers, Charles walked in. You got up quickly from your bed and ran into him. He hugged you tightly for a moment and then softly pressed his head against yours. You could feel his warm breath. His hands grabbing your face provoked you chills. - Charles, you should not have done that.- you regretted. - I should have done it before, but it is ok. I would do it again if necessary.- he assured you and tears rolled down your cheeks. His thumbs clean the tears and then he kissed you. - You are not only the Queen Dowager of France but also the Queen of my heart, Mary.- he confessed. You smiled at him and your lips met his again.

After a knock, the door opened and Will Compton warned Charles to hurry for someone was coming. He kissed you once more and disappeared.

The King summoned you a few days after. There were some noble people present, Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk among others. Charles was already there waiting. About half an hour later Henry appeared with Wolsey and sat on the throne. He remained silent for a moment, as he inspected you. He knew; he knew his friend loved you and his love was reciprocated.

- Dear sister, I would like to apologize to you, for I did not know you were unhappy with the marriage proposal.- he said with conviction as if that would make it true- I desire nothing more than happiness for you, my beloved Mary. So I have decided that it should be you the one to decide who your future husband will be. You have my word and my blessing. Of course, he would make it seem as if you pact before marrying King Louis XII was his idea, but you did not care, as long as he granted you that you were not mad about him credit it to himself. - As for Your Grace.- he said looking at Charles- Your title and lands were given to you as a reward for bravely fighting by my side to defend your country and should remain at your disposal. Furthermore, as a sign of gratitude for enlightened me about my sister's displeasure for her now announced marriage, I would like to grant you my blessing to marry her, if that is her heart's desire and I hope you live the happy quiet life you desire away from court.

There it was, your punishment was being banned from court, but it was a slight price to pay for all the great things you had achieved. You were now allowed to marry Charles and live happily with him.

Maybe it was the fear that Henry would change his mind that made you marry that same day. In a private ceremony, with a few maids and his friends Will and Anthony to witness it, you promised to love each other forever.

You had the opportunity to have another wedding since you have not bled and you were sure with child, you had a public wedding to show the legitimacy of your future child. This time, you had it at court. Henry was a proud man, but even if Charles did what no other man would have dared unless they wanted to lose their heads, your brother loved him too much and trust no other like he trusted your husband.

Henry Brandon. That's the name Charles choose for your newborn. He was the living image of his father.

Not everything in your remaining life was happiness. Even though you had been blessed with another two children, Frances and Eleanor, by God's will your little Henry died when he was six years old. A year after that, another baby joined your family, honouring his late brother by carrying his name.

Charles was nothing but a loving husband to you. He stood by your side when tragedy hit your family and later when you got ill. You survived the sweating sickness but never fully recovered from it, and five years later you meet again with your loving son. It must have hurt your love, who never left your side until your heart stopped beating. He loved you much and would be sad for losing you, but you were glad he had your loving daughters and son to keep him company and help him move on.

[agentrouka-blog]

When Jon think about wanting winterfell and it's Lord he felt hunger which he later connect with ghost's hunger. Do you think that passage is implying something?

Hi anon!

I think the passage has many layers when it comes to symbolism and foreshadowing.

ASOS, Jon XII is a fun chapter. Jon’s been through a lot. His trip North of the wall left him traumatized and disillusioned in a way that’s hard to sum up. Anything he had hoped to be proud of in life was obliterated, he suffered serious injury, has been separated from ghost, learned that all his family are dead or missing, fought a viciously cruel battle, feels responsible for the death of his stockholm-syndromy abuser, was stripped of all respect and honor by his superiors, and he got to see a woman die in childbirth. Now Stannis and Mel are squatting at Castle Black, and the threat to the North keeps looming.

Life sucks. 

We’d been introduced to some options that were denied to him in life:

His lord father had once talked about raising new lords and settling them in the abandoned holdfasts as a shield against wildlings. The plan would have required the Watch to yield back a large part of the Gift, but his uncle Benjen believed the Lord Commander could be won around, so long as the new lordlings paid taxes to Castle Black rather than Winterfell. "It is a dream for spring, though," Lord Eddard had said. "Even the promise of land will not lure men north with a winter coming on."

If winter had come and gone more quickly and spring had followed in its turn, I might have been chosen to hold one of these towers in my father's name. Lord Eddard was dead, however, his brother Benjen lost; the shield they dreamt together would never be forged. (ASOS, Jon V)

or

“If the boy shows any skill with sword or lance, he should have a place with your father’s household guard at the least,” Jon said. “It’s not unknown for bastards to be trained as squires and raised to knighthood. But you’d best be sure Gilly can play this game convincingly. From what you’ve told me of Lord Randyll, I doubt he would take kindly to being deceived.” (ASOS, Samwell IV)

One fails because of the seasons, the other was prevented by Catelyn. The Watch has been a soul-destroying nightmare, Ygritte’s offer of taking over a Tower “after” is not even worth a moment’s consideration to him. Every hope he ever had about his life has been disappointed. 

Jon’s just about sixteen and is completely done. Sam notes how much time Jon spends in the training yard, even though he’s injured and off-duty for the title of turncloak. He does not bother voting in the Lord Commander election. A maligned outcast again. Forever. 

The warg, I’ve heard them call me. How can I be a warg without a wolf, I ask you?” His mouth twisted. “I don’t even dream of Ghost anymore. All my dreams are of the crypts, of the stone kings on their thrones. Sometimes I hear Robb’s voice, and my father’s, as if they were at a feast. But there’s a wall between us, and I know that no place has been set for me.” (ASOS, Samwell IV

He is lonely. Even Ghost is gone, his one proof that he belongs to something.

Stannis alienates Jon by talking ill of Robb, but he offers Jon recognition for the things he did right, a rare thing, and then he offers him legitimization. Basically, “You proved your worth and you have the Right blood. All you ever wanted can be yours. For the small price of breaking your oaths for real and of your own volition and forsaking your gods.” Downright mephistophelian.

Jon is torn, can’t sleep, fights. For the first time he has a real choice. He remembers the traumatic incident where his bastardy became a true concept to him.

That morning he called it first. “I’m Lord of Winterfell!” he cried, as he had a hundred times before. Only this time, this time, Robb had answered, “You can’t be Lord of Winterfell, you’re bastard-born. My lady mother says you can’t ever be the Lord of Winterfell.”

I thought I had forgotten that. Jon could taste blood in his mouth, from the blow he’d taken. (ASOS, Jon XII)

And Jon’s response is a near black-out rage against his sparring partner. All his suppressed feelings of grief and anger and longing and loneliness are just broiling inside him.

Why am I so angry? he asked himself, but it was a stupid question. Lord of Winterfell. I could be the Lord of Winterfell. My father’s heir.

Jon soaks in the hot tub and thinks of Winterfell, mulls restoring it versus not belonging and destroying its soul in the process

When Jon closed his eyes he saw the heart tree, with its pale limbs, red leaves, and solemn face. The weirwood was the heart of Winterfell, Lord Eddard always said … but to save the castle Jon would have to tear that heart up by its ancient roots, and feed it to the red woman’s hungry fire god. I have no right, he thought. Winterfell belongs to the old gods

The tree is almost described like a person. A person with Tully coloring, like all his siblings save Arya. Like Sansa. The hot springs in Winterfell have a potential link to his decision to join the Watch, or at the very least to his siblings in general. The castle of Winterfell is juxtaposed with the heart, with the purpose and point of it all. Save a structure by destroying what made it a meaningful place? Betray his family in his heart, the person whose castle is truly is, betray all his values and his gods?

He takes a walk past sites of all his recent experiences and North the Wall over the recent battle field and just sits to think. 

Ygritte wanted me to be a wildling. Stannis wants me to be the Lord of Winterfell. But what do I want? The sun crept down the sky to dip behind the Wall where it curved through the western hills. Jon watched as that towering expanse of ice took on the reds and pinks of sunset. 

There’s an essay I could write about walls, Tyrion, Jon and Sansa (the sun to Arya’s moon) and how they all interact in the books, but let’s say just like this word play, the fact that Jon answers his own question is not an accident:

"Close your beak, crow. Spin yourself around, might be you'd find who you're looking for."

Jon turned.

The singer rose to his feet. (ASOS, Jon I)

The singer rose. Lyanna, his mother, the riddle. But also Sansa, who unwittingly took up her mantle. One unlocks his path to the other and everything that follows in his imagination:

I would need to steal her if I wanted her love, but she might give me children. I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister’s son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly’s boy as well. Sam would never need to tell his lie. We’d find a place for Gilly too, and Sam could come visit her once a year or so. Mance’s son and Craster’s would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb.

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. It was a hunger inside him, sharp as a dragonglass blade. A hunger … he could feel it. It was food he needed, prey, a red deer that stank of fear or a great elk proud and defiant. He needed to kill and fill his belly with fresh meat and hot dark blood. His mouth began to water with the thought.

Jon paints a picture of recreating his own childhood with his wolf pack at Winterfell, only this time there are no outcasts, and he is the Father. He gets to be Ned. The Lord of Winterfell with a lady’s love. And a son, something he had, apparently, dreamed of until he stoppped. 

He has always wanted this thing that he has no right to and it filled him with a guilt strong enough to concern the gods. But he admits it to himself, lets himself truly feel it. The feeling flows through him the same way the rage did earlier. powerful and all encompassing. 

Like a dragonglass blade. There we have some lovely foreshadowing for a) potentiall the origin of the Others, b) Jon’s paternity, and c) his own death when his desire to abandon his vows and head to Winterfell is met with, you know, some blades. Not to mention d) his desire to have these things.

Each of these is answered by his primal hunger response. Which is of course, his connection to Ghost. The wolf he has so woefully said goodbye to, that he missed deeply and bitterly, chooses this moment to reappear. This moment where Jon returns to his own feelings, his true self.

a) the answer to the Others are the direwolves, the Starks, their magical connection to Winterfell and what happened way back when.

b) the answer to Jon’s paternity is a violent embrace of his mother’s side.

c) the answer to his own stabbing will be warging into Ghost and biding his time in there, becoming more wolf than he ever anticipated.

d) the answer to his heart’s desire...

It was a long moment before he understood what was happening. When he did, he bolted to his feet. “Ghost?” He turned toward the wood, and there he came, padding silently out of the green dusk, the breath coming warm and white from his open jaws. “Ghost!” he shouted, and the direwolf broke into a run. He was leaner than he had been, but bigger as well, and the only sound he made was the soft crunch of dead leaves beneath his paws. When he reached Jon he leapt, and they wrestled amidst brown grass and long shadows as the stars came out above them. “Gods, wolf, where have you been?” Jon said when Ghost stopped worrying at his forearm. “I thought you’d died on me, like Robb and Ygritte and all the rest. I’ve had no sense of you, not since I climbed the Wall, not even in dreams.” The direwolf had no answer, but he licked Jon’s face with a tongue like a wet rasp, and his eyes caught the last light and shone like two great red suns.

Red suns. Arya’s wolf has golden coins (haggling for death, faceless men coins, spinning fates), Grey Wind has molten gold (like a crown that kills you). 

Jon’s wolf has red suns. Like the colors that the sun painted on the Wall. The direwolf in heart tree colors, inverted bastard colors of house Stark, Tully colors, Sansa colors. 

Red eyes, Jon realized, but not like Melisandre’s. He had a weirwood’s eyes. Red eyes, red mouth, white fur. Blood and bone, like a heart tree. He belongs to the old gods, this one. And he alone of all the direwolves was white. Six pups they’d found in the late summer snows, him and Robb; five that were grey and black and brown, for the five Starks, and one white, as white as Snow.

He had his answer then.

Not the red gods, not fire. The old gods. the heart tree, the wolves. He may be a Snow, but the old gods gave him Ghost. His own wolf. His white wolf. His place was made by their will. 

There is honor in that choice. No matter what anyone else says, Jon knows who he is and he has that power: to reject betraying his heart. 

How does this choice led by Ghost fit the layers?

a) The answer to the Others: don’t steal, don’t trick. Be honest. Accept what was painful. Not the Wall matters, the answer is in the heart tree.

b) The Dragon father does not Need to guide his decisions. He can let that go. He is a Snow.

c) Being in Ghost will lead him back to himself. Not fire, not Melisandre. The old gods.

d) Well... What does Jon want? What IS his answer?

Jon is filled with sudden energy. He strides back, rejects Val in his mind, stalks dramatically into the dining hall and is suddenly voted Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. We close on this:

So Jon Snow took the wineskin from his hand and had a swallow. But only one. The Wall was his, the night was dark, and he had a king to face.

Jon’s answer? We never hear it in this chapter. 

We hear it in ADWD, Jon I:

"By right Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa." 

And ADWD, Jon IV:

Jon said, "Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa." 

The chapter is followed by? Sansa. Rebuilding Winterfell out of snow. 

When Jon lets go of pretense, honestly asks himself what he wants, shame or not, his wolf takes over and helps him find the answer and the path. The answer is not in taking the Castle and creating a mimicry of what it was, it is in honoring what it truly was and truly means. The heart over the structure. 

And in giving supremacy to the heart, to the red-white heart, he unknowingly paves the way for his own place: Winterfell built of Snow. He doesn’t have to steal the castle, he will be invited to belong.

That’s my own humble interpretation, anyway.

[gremlinanonstoryblog]

✨Update✨

Soooo... Yesterday was nice, my mom did embaress me at all force but at least it all went well and we are good ^^

Now, back to were I left of

When me and partners got there I was legitimately sweating... I didn't know if my mom would want to talk with me or not, I was scared that this would end up in an argument and with our luck this could go south real fast... So yeah, overthinking

So, I knock on the door, miss oh honey holding my hand while roommate had their hand on my shoulder, and when my mom opens it, she freezes, looks at us, than at me, pulls a smirk and says "And you father thought you were straight"

Needless to say that almost all tension was eased right there XD

My mom hugged shortly after and, not gonna lie, I cried a lot, I said sorry countless time but my mom understood and kept hugging me until I stoped crying

She let us in and I told her all about what happend to me back then with my ex and I didn't contact her until now. She understood and when I finished she said "I'm sorry all of that happened to you sweetheart... I really wish I could've helped you more back then... But, life goes on and I hope that bitch is suffering cause I would hurt her if law let me! Oh well, anyone wants a chocolate egg?"

We went silent for a bit and them accepted the egg

After that she proceeds to ask "So, how did you all met?"

"Uuhh... I met roommate two weeks or so before quarantine and we became roommates shortly after... And I met Miss oh honey not much time after I moved in with roommate but I only actually got to know her, like... 4/5 days ago..."

"OH! That's really like you, there are things that really never change... And when did you three start dating?"

"We s- Wait... How do you know that?"

"Sweetheart, you three are so obvious that even a blind person could see the love there"

I just- I have no anwser... And also started thinking about how obvious we are... Like... Is that gay?

We ended up spending easter in moms house and she told all about my childhood dumb stories, I had fun remembering them, some more than others, but still fun😁

She also showed my partners my childhood room and well... HOW DIDN'T I KNOW I WAS GAY BEFORE!?!?

MY ROOM WAS LITERALY FULL OF DRAWINGS OF ONLY WOMEN!!!!! I LITERALY ONLY DREW WOMEN!!!

Childhood gayness aside, my partners and my mom got along really well and that was the best easter I had in years

This will be probably my last update sinse my story is now over

I'm forever greatfull to everyone who enjoyed and suported this story and my gay panics

Love ya all

Also, if ya wanna say or ask something to me or my partners you are free to do it (I have anon asks on)

I don't know what I'll do now with this blog since I only created it for the stories but I'll figure it out I think

Hope ya'll okay and safe and having a great day/afternoon/evening/night

- Gremlin😺, Miss oh honey😸 and Roommate😼

[gmfiswriting]

A Stark for sure - Chapter One

A/N: Hey. I posted the prologue at around 2 AM my time and I honestly didn’t think anyone would read it, much less like it! So thank you so much. I hope you enjoy this weird angsty, mysterious (i’m trying to make it be) piece of words. (Also not my gif but creds to the owner.) The next chapter’s gonna be more informative; i promise to give you guys the juicy stuff next. 

word count: 1.3k words 

---

Manhattan. 2001.

“I can’t be with a man who will love his destructive lifestyle more than his child.” The woman screamed, a hand pointing towards a room at the end of the hall.  “God, Tony! Can’t you at least understand why I’m upset?”

Tony blankly stared at her. A simple straight face showcasing no emotion but he was ashamed because he did understand. Last night, he had done what he usually did; paint the town red, spend too much, drink too much, end up in bed with another random woman. “Will you please quiet down?” The man spoke as he stood to get a drink.

Now the lady was seething. A complete contrast to what Anthony Edward Stark knew of her.

Florence. Florence Karla Abreo. A proclaimed neuroscientist and psychologist. Her research and discoveries were known worldwide and awed by many. She was respected for her mind but Anthony respected her for her aura. Her heart. Her kindness. She was his first love. The two had been family friends as their parents were close and happened to live a few blocks away from each in Manhattan. The usual friend-to-lover story; but people change and grow. 

“Leave!” Florence cried out and he did. As he walked towards the door and right before he slammed the door, she continued. “I will not keep subjecting myself to this, Tony. You may be the father of my child but I refuse to allow you to ruin Calypso’s childhood.” With that, she broke down in tears before scurrying to grab her things. She moved as if she was running on anxiety. Grabbing bags and stuff only the necessities inside before placing them in the back of her own car. She repeated the action but with her child’s belongings before stopping in front of a door. Breathing slowly to calm herself down, she turned the knob and entered quietly. 

Calypso Dmitria Stark. The baby laid in her crib, sleep consumed. Florence sobbed again as she reached the crib, stroking her daughter’s head. “I’m sorry, my love.” The child whined but continued to sleep. She was the female copy of her father in terms of looks. The dark brown hair, brown eyes and when she smiled, you could see that spark only a stark could have. 

Florence picked up her daughter while placing an envelope where she once laid. “I’m sorry, Tony.” She spoke to the air. No one could blame her. A mother’s love was one of the strongest things in the universe and a mother’s sacrifice should be the most valued thing. With Calypso in her baby seat and everything in check (their flight to Boston ready), she drove away. Florence drove away from her first and only love, the father of her child, without looking back. 

Avengers’ tower. 2016.

Steve Rogers, a.k.a Captain America, sighed as some senator spoke to them about the issue with their latest mission which was utter bullshit as it was just him projecting his opinion and getting him to do what he wants. None of them needed that. It was 2 am as they all sat in those uncomfortable chairs “Well sir, to be quite frank. We saved the world again while you were sleeping with your personal trainer so maybe you should keep your mouth shut.” Beep. The screen went blank as Sam Wilson, a.k.a The Falcon pressed a button on the long table. 

A few members laughed and by a few, only Natasha, Bucky and Tony. The others just shook their heads; with Steve sighing loudly. “You can’t just do that, Sam. The asshole is still a government official.” 

“The asshole needs to keep his mouth shut, Cap.” Tony took Sam’s side and a disagreement started. Tony and Steve talking over each other with the others either taking sides or being mediators to ensure nothing physical happened. 

“Steve. He can’t just tell us what do. We legitimately sav-.” Vision

“It doesn’t matter, honey. You can’t just-.” Wanda

“Guys. Let’s just ca-.’ Bruce

“We just got back from a mission. Can’t this wait?” Rhodey.

“Still. That man was incredibly rude. As the young midgardians say online, he has small penis energy.” Thor

“It’s small DICK energy.” Peter.

It’s still unsure if any of them actually heard any of the others properly. The Avengers were all just talking over the top of each other; some related to the topic while others just babbling on about god knows what.

“Mr. Stark, sir. There’s a call waiting for you.” Jarvis spoke over them all. This didn’t stop them from talking over each other. Tony didn’t seem to care as he continued to argue with Steve, “it’s from a Claypso Abreo. She is being held at precinct 99 in Brooklyn. Do i keep her on hold, sir?” 

That name. 

Calypso. 

Tony froze. His brain stopped working as his eyes shifted to his phone on the table. He gulped before looking at Jame Rhodey. Everyone noticed his reaction; the proclaimed, stubborn, narcissistic jerk they knew froze. “Mr. Stark?” The talking had quietened down.

“Answer it, Tones. Jarvis, keep the kid on hold. Get Happy to come around with the car now please. Also relay this info to Pepper.” Rhodey spoke quickly while gesturing for everyone to leave the room. Confused with this new situation, they all complied and exited. It was times like this that Tony was grateful for having a friend like Rhodey. As he was about to close the door, he spoke again in an encouraging tone. “I’m guessing she’s in trouble so best to answer now.” 

Tony hadn’t realised everyone left, still staring at his phone. “Yeah, you’re right...” He dragged his sentence in dread. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he grabbed his phone and answered. Drawing a breath in and quickly whispering, “Calypso?”

“Hey, Dad.” A tiny voice spoke over the phone; an underlying questioning tone included. Tony broke, tears running down his face. Scared. Confused. Anxious. Why was his daughter, that he hadn’t had proper contact with for about 3 years call? She could hear him breathing. “UH, I’m guessing you’re still on. Well I hope you are. But I have no one else to call so if you can just tell Captain Holt here that I’m free to go, i’ll be out of your ha-.”

“I’m coming to get you now.” Tony blurted as he stood. You may not believe this but he loved his daughter. The man would do anything for her. He may not know her but he knew whenever she needed him, rather whenever she asked him, he’d be there. 

“Oh. It’s fine, Mr. Stark.”

The man walked through the doors and towards the elevator, oblivious to the stares his teammates were giving him. Calypso. Tony’s reaction. Rhodey’s understanding. The urgency felt. As the elevator doors shut with him in it, Natasha turned to Rhodey who was nursing a drink by the counter. “Calypso?” She asked. Steve, Bucky, Sam, Bruce and her analysed Rhodey. The name made him slightly cringe and shake his head before lifting himself away from the table and towards the stairs. 

“She’s...” He froze again and turned to them. “She’s a sensitive topic. It’s not my place to tell.” Resuming his walk to his quarters, the five were left blank. Who was this woman? How can she bring such with her name alone?

The five stood closer to each, whispering the possibilities about this person. “Maybe we should ask Tony.” Bruce spoke up. No matter how many times he disagreed with Tony, he still respected and valued the man. “Rhodes even said that it’s not something he should share. Plus we all saw his reaction.” Bruce insisted they confront Tones carefully and not pry into the situation.

They all nodded but Steve and Natasha gave each other a look. That look that meant ‘yeah-no-we’re-looking-into-this’. They separated, walking to their respected rooms as Sam bluntly spoke, “I’m more confused about some girl being named Calypso...”

[seek-its-opposite]

photosensitivity | wc: 2156 | ao3

prompt from @catarinquar 65. "look at me—just breathe, okay?”

post-demons. warning: some references to suicidal ideation 

*****

Twelve hours after almost shooting his partner, Fox Mulder is released from the hospital in satisfactory health. His partner, whose health is decidedly unsatisfactory, is entrusted with his care. As she signs her name at the bottom of the release form she avoids eye contact with the nurses, half convinced that if they look at her they won’t let her leave. Lately she’s been thinking of howlers.

Scully, silent and reckless, drives them both two hours out of Rhode Island before stopping at a motel on the Connecticut-New York state line. The clouds are threatening what looks to be a hell of a mid-afternoon storm, and she doesn’t want to be on the road with him when it hits. She leaves her rumpled partner in the car with the window cracked while she goes to the front desk, glancing back possessively over her shoulder as the woman behind the counter gets their keys. One room, two beds. “I’m not letting you out of my sight, Mulder.”

She keeps seeing him like she found him, on his knees before the ghosts of his childhood. She sees him praying to the barrel of his gun.

By the time the rain slaps the window Mulder is lying stiff as a board on top of the cheap comforter, hands flat at his side. Scully, doing a poor job at concentrating on the dog-eared copy of Into the Wild she stole from his apartment, eyes him from the corner. The lamp beside her flickers and hums. Lightning flares through the blinds, cutting Mulder in half diagonally like a Vegas magician.

Extreme photosensitivity, the doctor had said, scrawling notes for her on things to look out for. She looks for curtains to close and finds none.

“Shit,” she mutters.

“Scully?” Mulder squints at her from the bed.

“Just the storm.”

He closes his eyes again. “Hey, Scully, if April showers bring May flowers, what do May flowers bring?”

She doesn’t even have time to decide whether to indulge him. The next bolt of lightning is close, flashing white-hot outside the window just seconds before the thunder claps. Mulder cries out and grabs his head, sitting up so quickly he slides off the side of the mattress and hits the floor with a crash.

“Mulder!”

He’s unresponsive when she reaches him, flat on his back and glassy eyed on the carpet. Scully crouches at his side.

“Mulder,” she prompts, more measured this time. “Can you hear me?”

She feels his pulse racing in his neck and moves her other hand to his chest, spreading her palm across his stupid, hot-blooded heart. After a second Mulder blinks and focuses on her. He winces and sits up, letting out a long breath.

“Easy,” Scully warns. She grabs his shoulder and guides him, gently, so he’s facing her, sitting against the side of the bed with his left knee at his chest. He slumps back, his arm lolling across his knee.

“I saw my mom,” he says. His voice is rough. “With the cancer man.”

“You have no way of knowing if that’s true.”

“I have no way of knowing if it’s a memory,” he counters. “I know it’s true.”

He leans his head back against the comforter and shuts his eyes.

Scully rests her hand on Mulder’s forehead, her pinkie in his hair and her thumb stroking his brow. His hairline is sweaty. “Mulder, the lightning isn’t good for you,” she murmurs. “It’s triggering your seizures.”

Mulder huffs out a laugh. She wonders what he sees behind those eyelids. “Maybe if you show the storm your badge,” he suggests.

She almost smiles. “I’ll do that.”

The room lights up again. She has to get him out of here. Scully pushes herself off the floor, patting Mulder’s leg as she stands. He looks up at her. “I was kidding,” he says.

“I’ll be right back.”

The bathroom has no window. It’s short on floor space, but if she folds a towel for him to sit in front of the bathtub here, folds another in front of the sink here—with the door closed it should work. There’s a shell-shaped night light plugged into the outlet; she flips the switch and the room glows faint pink, so warm and sweet she’s overcome with love with it for a second. Dana, look at you, she thinks. You can’t tell the difference between a panic room and a home.

“Come here,” she says to Mulder, and holds out her hand. She pulls him to his feet.

When he sees the bathroom he says, “I didn’t realize we checked into the Ritz.”

She replies, “I used your card.”

They sit on worn towels in their socks with their knees touching. In the shadows she can almost trick herself into thinking they’re on a stakeout.

“You don’t have to stay in here,” he tells her, trying to sound casual. “If anything happens I’ll just scream in agony.” He doesn’t pull off the joke.

“I’m good,” she soothes.

He called her in the middle of the night with blood down his shirt and she came to find him. It’s been too late to leave for years.

“Scully—” Mulder pauses.

She waits.

“That was the third time I’ve aimed my gun at you.”

“I wasn’t keeping track,” she replies. A lie. “How’s this lighting for you? Is this better?”

“Scully.”

“No. I’m not going to do this right now.”

“Do what?” he pleads.

“Make this about your guilt. We’ve both aimed our weapons at each other. God, Mulder.” She gestures at his shoulder. “I shot you.”

She shot him is the tamest way to put it. She shot him so he wouldn’t spend his life in jail. She drugged him and drove him across the country, slept in rest stop parking lots at dawn, wet an old washcloth with the melting ice water from the bottom of her cooler and draped it across his forehead. She never talks about that part. She understands that they are each tallying up the wrong score, that when they look at themselves they see the ways they hurt each other as more legitimate than the ways they heal. In their pact to trust each other they count only the breaches of contract.

It’s been scaring her lately to think of what legacy she might leave with him. To think he could get it so wrong. It makes her furious.

“You want me to tell you I think you were reckless and stupid?” she continues. “I do! You put a hole in your head. But we both know that’s not what you feel bad about.”

Thunder rumbles muted above their heads.

“I had to know,” Mulder insists.

“You could have killed yourself, Mulder.” She’s angry now, properly. Her ribs feel like they’re trying to break out of her body. “Do I mean that little to you?”

His lips part, like one of his fish.

“I need you,” Scully sniffs. Her voice is very small.

Mulder reaches out and touches her shin with just his fingertips. She shudders.

“I’m here,” he says.

“Then listen to me.” She takes a breath, steadies herself. “Stop punishing yourself like it’ll make me better. I never asked for your penance.”

“You don’t ask for anything.” He sounds almost bewildered.

“I do,” she says bitterly. She thinks, You just haven’t noticed.

She can’t believe she thought it was him showing up at her door on a Friday night with a bottle of wine. Desire makes her foolish; it has since she was a girl.

At this point—because their lives are a divine joke—they’re rudely interrupted. In the low light Scully tastes the warm blood on her upper lip before Mulder can see it. A nosebleed. Fuck. Now? She cups her palm beneath her nose and lunges for the sink, leaning over it, knuckles white around the counter.

“Oh, Scully,” Mulder sighs. He stands.

“I’m okay. It’s not that bad.”

It’s really not, considering. She pinches the bridge of her nose and takes stock of her body. There’s a dim ache in her head, a low throbbing just between her eyes. Her neck is stiff. Her limbs are sore; her ankles will probably be bruised tomorrow from sitting on the tile, even with socks on. She bruises so easily now, her soft, bad-apple skin. She’ll need a full night of sleep tonight. She should eat something that doesn’t come from a vending machine, but that might be pushing it.

Mulder reaches for the toilet paper, and she holds up her hand to stop him.

“Give it a minute,” she says. Over time she’s learned it’s easier to just bend over the sink or the toilet and wait it out until it slows down. Her blood stains the ceramic basin food-coloring red.

Mulder hovers at her shoulder, so charged with anxious energy she can almost hear him worrying. She’s his little watched pot; it’s like he thinks if he stays close, she can never boil over.

“Mulder, I’m in here to take care of you,” Scully sighs, and even though she doesn’t mean it as anything close to a joke, she finds it suddenly funny. What a pair. She laughs a weak, wet laugh and wipes a tear from her eye.

He chuckles. “We can take turns.”

Without looking up at him, she orders, “Sit down, Mulder.”

He sits on the closed toilet, nervous hands clasped between his spread-wide knees.

After a while her nose stops bleeding. Scully accepts one wad of toilet paper from Mulder to wipe down the sink and a few squares to bunch in her hand, just in case. As she’s washing up she notices the way her palm, the one she held up to him earlier, is smudged at its center with dried blood. She thinks of Stevenson’s Black Spot, of Shirley Jackson’s, and wonders if Mulder is getting the picture yet: Dana Scully, marked for death.

What she does not think of is the stigmata. She hasn’t had much time lately for resurrection.

She sits back down on the floor, this time taking the towel at Mulder’s feet, and leans against the wall—looking up at him now, as usual. The right half of his face glows night-light pink; the left is dark. She stares into the chiaroscuro contours of his silhouette and knows that for better or for worse he’ll get the last of her. He can’t die when she does; he can’t. She fiddles with the toilet paper in her hand.

“You know I don’t blame you for this,” she says quietly. Her mouth tastes like iron. “You’re disrespecting me if you blame yourself.”

Mulder shakes his head. “Scully, you’ve given me four years of your life.” His voice catches on something he doesn’t say. “After everything you’ve done for me, for Samantha—you deserve the truth as much as I do.”

No. He did this in her name? “Mulder.”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You should know her, Scully. You should’ve known her.”

She, leaning forward too, clasps her hands too hard around his palms. “I know you,” she says fiercely.

Mulder, at a loss, shuts his eyes and sobs without tears. His chin drops toward his chest, shoulders heaving.

Scully shifts on the towel so she’s on her knees, pushing herself up to meet him. She puts a finger underneath his chin and guides his face up to look into hers. His eyes are dry when he opens them, but his breathing is ragged.

This desperate, passionate thing between them scares her. She swallows the bitter taste on her tongue.

“Hey, look at me,” she urges. “Just breathe, okay?”

He breathes. She cups his cheek.

“I do not accept answers like that,” she insists. This, too, is an order. He nods, dazed.

She sees him kneeling before sun-faded photos of a smiling little sister and two cold New England parents. He was raised to be sacrificed to a cause and he’s been trying ever since.

Thunder rolls in the distance. Scully puts her hands on Mulder’s knees. Her head throbs.

“Tell me something about Samantha I don’t know,” she says. She sits back on her heels.

Mulder pauses and takes another uneven breath. He smiles gingerly. “She loved doing cartwheels,” he says. “She was always crashing into the couch when it was too cold for her to do them outside. There just wasn’t room. She always thought this time there would be enough room.” His eyes start to well up.

“After Sam broke her collarbone she couldn’t do cartwheels for months, so she taught me how to do them out in the yard. She was like a drill sergeant." He laughs through his nose. "It was fall, and she made me clear the leaves like a runway.”

He’s crying now. Mulder runs a hand over his mouth and sits back. He looks at Scully, ruined.

“Do you think he’s her father too?”