#because its the only way she knows how to grieve

[chappelroans]

just a friendly reminder that laura lee never had a funeral!

[presiding]

formerly an essay in tags but - billie lurk. half-nameless, misremembered woman. her powers derived from the things taken from her, without any catharsis or empowerment. the rat charm, tied with deidre's hair, her lover's voice in the mouth of rats. her arm and eye, taken, given back only to cause her chronic pain, then lost again. foresight seems a cruel gift for a woman who botched the timing of her takeover of the whalers, and bet wrong when it came to delilah.

she never bore the outsider's blessing; his first visit to her was more like an assault. every other dishonored POV character gets the choice to be selfish, and for that selfishness to mean something, but billie's actions have no effect on the world at large, either, in a game without a chaos system.

some say that corvo is the ghost, but he can reach out and change things. billie's buried herself twice and come back and nothing she does seems to matter - she is less a protagonist, more a convenient full stop in the narrative.

try this: open doto, start a new game. sit in her cabin. notice how little of billie there is. even the woman she loved more than anyone has the face of another named character.

she sits amongst the assets of other games: empty canvases and a dressmaker's mannequin that wears nothing.

[scattered-winter]

wanted to write something today (i have an ESSAY DUE TODAY and i have WIPS) but instead im thinking abt my mom. lol

[watermelonsloth]

I think the reason why Naruto fans get so passionate and upset about the series is because of how real it can be. Naruto isn’t about paragon heroes outdoing dastardly villains. It’s about human beings fighting tooth and nail to survive in a world surrounded by death. It’s about broken systems made and perpetuated by broken people.

The Hyuga clan isn’t just antagonistic or pretentious, they practice slavery.

The Uchiha clan weren’t just killed by some raging psychopath, they were systematically massacred.

Itachi isn’t just cruel to Sasuke because he’s a bad brother, he’s cruel because he’d been told time and time again that you can only survive by being cruel and he wants nothing more than for Sasuke to survive.

Nagato isn’t trying to take over the world just for the sake of power, he’s trying to take over the world because it beat him down to the point of believing that the only chance at peace there is is the world being forced into compliance through fear.

Iruka isn’t hard on Naruto just because he’s a strict teacher, he’s hard on Naruto because he knows from experience how unforgiving the world is towards orphans.

Kakashi isn’t just some silly and slightly lazy teacher, he’s a contract killer still grieving his loved ones and struggling to do better without knowing how he’s supposed to.

Sakura isn’t just a fangirl, she’s a normal girl in a very dangerous and abnormal world constantly being made to choose between what she’s supposed to do and what she feels.

Sasuke isn’t just some edgelord, he’s a survivor who lost everything then gets repeatedly told that he has to choose between keeping what he’s gained and doing better than his brother.

Naruto isn’t just trying to be the best Hokage there ever was, he’s trying to prove his worth to a society that abandoned him just for existing and, in a way, confirm his worth to himself.

The Naruto story is about humans trying to force themselves into the role of weapons because that’s what they were told they had to be. It’s a story where everyone is a perpetrator but no one is trying to do wrong. It’s a story where everyone is a victim but no one is a perfect victim.

The world and the characters aren’t simple and trying to simplify them only takes away from them. So of course we get passionate about showing off all the reasons why they shouldn’t be simplified and all of the ways they’re complicated. Of course we get upset when we see others simplifying them or selling certain aspects of their characters short. Of course we get upset when the series itself simplifies them. Of course we get upset when the series chooses to abandon them. Because it not only feels like the characters are giving up, it feels like the series is betraying anyone who chose to get invested in its complexities.

[brackenfur]

i still think it should have been like. ashfur and brambleclaw were friends as apprentices - ashpaw was always showing him around, teaching him some more advanced apprentice things, talking all day every day and sleeping in the nest next to one another - until brindleface dies. and when bramblepaw goes to comfort his friend, walks across camp to tell him how sorry he is - ashpaw just. stares. at him until he walks away. and bramblepaw is like....well he's grieving, i need to give him space. i get it.

but it keeps happening. ashpaw wont talk to him anymore, barely looks at him. moves to the other side of the apprentices den and starts spending more time with thornpaw. and deep down, even as an apprentice - bramblepaw knows its because of tigerstar, even if firestar and his mother tell him it's not, that ashpaw is just in pain right now. fernpaw is still his friend, after all. but ashpaw is never as close to him anymore. and then they become warriors, and ashfur only exchanges a few words here and there with him, but it's never the same as it was. sorrelpaw and brightheart and others will be like "hey, what happened to you guys?" and brambleclaw knows the answer - he kinda thinks everyone does - but he just will shrug and say "i guess we just grew apart. it happens sometimes."

and the thing is - ashfur knows that it's not technically right to feel this way, that brambleclaw didnt actually do anything. but hes so angry, knowing what happened to his mother. how she died. how brambleclaw's father did that to her and everyone just goes on with life like brindleface wasnt even there. he just cant stop being angry, even if it's not a burning sort of rage anymore, more dull - he still just doesnt want to have anything to do with brambleclaw.

and then hawkfrost and mothwing suddenly are there, and ashfur gets this weird feeling when he sees hawkfrost at gatherings, sees how close he and brambleclaw are. he knows that squirrelflight and brambleclaw are friends - or something, who knows - and he casually just mentions it, just to see if she thinks its weird too. squirrelflight is so outspoken, after all - and bam, she thinks the exact same thing. she thinks hawkfrost is a little much, that there's something not quite right with him. that nothing good could come out of being close with him, and ashfur feels oddly seen. they start talking and hanging out more, squirrelflight doesnt want anything to do with brambleclaw either, and like-

bam. suddenly squirrelflight is on brambleclaw's side again. suddenly they're talking again and ashfur just cant stand it. it feels like hes the only one who sees that there's something wrong with brambleclaw, that brambleclaw is power hungry. that hes manipulative and that he's not safe to be around, but squirrelflight wont hear it. shes almost disgusted, really.

so he sets brambleclaw up - he uses hawkfrost, thinking it's kinda two birds with one stone - he was right about both of them, he thinks as hawkfrost all too eagerly decides to trap firestar in the foxtrap. and ashfur lingers behind just to see, just for proof, and he sees it: he sees brambleclaw hesitate. he sees the way brambleclaw's eyes flicker to the foxtrap, how he freezes up. he thought about doing it, about killing firestar.

and having ashfur be so self-righteous and feeling vindicated about it, and THATS why he hates brambleclaw/squirrelflight so much....i dunno man.

[bloodpen-to-paper]

When Juanaflippa died, she was the first. No one knew how to react. Charlie and Mariana expressed the rage, the denial, and it was a spectacle of roleplay followed up by a wacky trial made for laughs. At this point, the rest of the server were still getting used to their eggs, so only Charlie and Mariana felt that twinge of pain from losing an egg. But when you remember Juanaflippa, you remember an explosion. A marvel.

Next Trump died. Maxo made you feel heartbroken with the image of a grieving father wallowing in misery and self destruction. But it was all still early, and most people didn't even notice. Trump died from neglect. Dan never saw him after adoption day. The server didn't come together like they did Juanaflippa. It was all very quiet. To this day, not many people in the community could tell you anything about Maxo's kid. About how hard his father bargained for his life between the gods. About how he failed. Trump was a whisper in the wind that only his father and those who watched him could bother to hear.

Then Tilín. At this point, the server was becoming more accustomed to the eggs. They were becoming attached. When Tilín died, it was depressing in every sense of the word. Quackity was somber, he barely spoke a word when he heard what had happened. A grave was built for Tilín by others with a heavy heart. There was no spectacle, and this time most people were involved in some way. Luzu came on to meet Tilín, and had to deal with that grief of being told his child was dead, something so heavy on him that he shut down completely. In life and in death, Tilín was the embodiment of sadness.

Bobby. The first death since Tilín. The first death in a long time. Everything had changed for the server. The eggs are their babies, their world. Everyone gathered to grieve Bobby, because they're a community now unlike ever before. But its different this time, they aren't there to witness a marvel from a distance, or grieve in sympathy. Bobby was a celebration. Music and dancing and memories. Toasts and cheering his name until the final moment. And having a final clap in his name after. Bobby was life. Because they're all scared now, terrified for their children. But they know what to expect this time. They're ready. They knew not to watch Jaiden and Roier grieve from the sidelines, they knew not to turn their backs on the two, and they would be sad but by god would they be happy as well. The server celebrated Roier and Jaiden, celebrated Bobby, and accepted his death with his name being shouted into the sky.

[yearnerspermit]

The thing I keep coming back to about the finale is how much the writers get it

Anne Rice wrote the book because of the loss of her daughter. It grew and developed a world and life of its own in the years and decades after that, but at its core, Interview With the Vampire was born from a death. And doesn’t that just make so much sense? For vampires, where birth and death are inextricably linked?

And again, even here in adaptation, no matter how much else is changed:

Louis tells the story. He’s the perspective. It’s filtered through him, remembered imperfectly by him, shaped by him. And Louis is shaped by Lestat, there’s no denying it

But at the end of the day, the story is about Claudia. Lestat only matters here because he became her maker, Louis only matters as far as being the one who initiates that change, and the one who recounts it all

Because what story is there to even be told, without her? Without her life, and her anger? The unfairness of her existence and the unfairness of her destruction? The tragedy that at every step she could have been helped, this could have been avoided, but the only way to avoid it entirely would have been her never entering the narrative?

That truly the only way you could ever avoid the death of the one you love is if you never had them to begin with. And would that be better? For them? For you? It feels like logically the answer is yes. But emotionally? Even considering erasing someone you love from your life feels worse than being the one to kill them. I cannot say even now that I regret Claudia

Every important beat after her introduction — the good, the bad, the ugly — is motivated by messy, imperfect love for her. The story only exists for the love of Claudia, it’s only told for the love of Claudia. The story is Claudia

The tragedy is that they can’t forget her. The tragedy is they can never remember her as she was. Memory is a monster because it’s an incomplete, blurry copy of the people we love who are gone, and it can never be killed, even if you wanted to. But we never really want to, do we? So you cling to that monster, keep it, make it part of you

And at the end? Louis and Lestat, meeting again?

It’s perfect. It’s them, broken. It’s them, on the threshold of learning how not to be. It’s not about romance, its not about betrayal. It’s not about them

It’s two parent, grieving a child. It’s two parents, looking at each other, knowing how badly they failed that child, and knowing how much they loved her still. It’s two parents, embracing and crying and grieving a loss that only they will every truly understand

Because the story is about Claudia. And even when she’s gone? The story is about learning to exist without her. Her absence is still a presence, though. The space she filled, the space it left behind, matters. Because it will never go away, and it will shape them and what happens next, forever

Whatever madness and plot and love and hate spirals out from here, it started from the love of a child, and the loss of a child. And whatever happens next, that will never go away

The story will always be about Claudia

[lilacargent]

As im currently dealing with the loss of a loved one, this is my way of coping.

Grief

Grief is an interstellar concept. Almost every species in the galaxy has its own traditions and practices. Humans are no exception, like with most of their emotions their grief is all encompassing. Traditions vary from one culture to another, even people deal with it in different ways.

Kilare as part of a flocking species wonders about the human crewmates when one is lost in a battle. She knew the passed human Ellie very well. Turns out they grieve like a flock, huddled together weeping, almost giving into the urge to join she turns away, expecting this to last for a long time she leaves them be. When she checks next the little unit is drinking and laughing, she can hardly believe it, carefully stepping into the room “i am sorry, may i ask something?” The humans look up some still blotchy from crying, the human she knows as liz nods “you were all weeping just now, but you seem happy? Im confused…” fluffing her feathers Kilare backpedals “not to be insensitive, im just trying to understand your process.” Evan gets up and walks to her “that is okay, you knew Ellie well right? We are talking about her and how we miss her, laughing comes with the tears.” Motioning for the taller feathered woman to join the little group Moira makes eye contact and starts explaining “i know you are from a species that grieves as a group, if i remember correctly mostly weeping and spread ashes on the wind to join in every flight” impressed by the womans knowledge she nods Moira goes on “humans have many different traditions, but every one grieves their own way and time. Mostly in five stages, denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. No two people go through it the same or even through all of them. There is times we grieve as a collective, sometimes you need time and process as an individual. We are now reminiscing Ellie, but i already know im gonna have a cry later and ill never forget her.” Kamare could understand and respect that so she joined in. It soothed her soul.

It was years before she saw human grief again so up close.

When the Ri’ktil attacked they committed what humans called warcrimes without batting any of their eighteen eyes. The horror of the people quickly turned to fear. It was when they blew up a human colony Kimare saw the unified grief. Human governments trying to bargain with the Ri’ktil, families travelling to the floating remnants of the colony trying to find survivors, denying that what had happened killed everyone man, woman and child. A month passed and humanity had grown silent and passive, the Ri’ktal took this as victory and broad cast it to the rest of the species in the galactic counsel. A warning that they would stop at nothing and break them like they broke the humans. Kimare remembered her conversation all those years ago and realised that anger was still coming, she could almost seeing it brewing under the surface.

A month was what it took. A month for humans to start walking upright again. Not only humans on their planets but everyone, on every world and every ship seemed to have shared in the depression. So when the fog cleared the whispering began, then came the talking, when it turned to yelling the Ri’ktil took notice. It was too late for them though. Because humanity started screaming, unified rage became a spearhead of humans all over the galaxy, noone even considered not helping. The tsunami of humans that could not wait to tear their enemy apart surprised them, no matter their way too many eyes, this they did not see coming.

The counsel joined the humans in their fight, and quick as the Ri’ktil had invaded were they beat back aswell. The defeat of their enemies did not dismiss their grief. But instead of on a specie scale individuals began their own process. Four years later Kimare noticed a change, they had made a monument out of the destroyed colony, it seemed to signify an end point. Humans went there to process and make peace, they had accepted what had happened moved past it. But never forgotten.

Humans didn’t forget when they grieved, they remember and accept.

~~~~~~

Tadah

[bau-drabbles]

love me not

it's hard loving someone that doesn't return the same affections

after maeve passed, they all thought reid would honestly be the next. he was a shell of a person he used to be, it honestly scared you how frail and weak he looked and your heart truly went out to him. he had found true love and the world had snatched it away from his hands before he could've enjoyed it.

you knew grief was tricky, you knew they said things they didn't mean. you knew how challenging and how painful it could be but seeing the pure rage in spencer's eyes was something you could never forget even if you desperately wished it to go. you could never forget how he looked at you with pure hatred and disgust at your lack of skill. as if the history between you both had simply vanished away, leaving nothing but pain and anguish in its wake

•••

"it was all your fault!" he sneered as he threw the gift basket behind him, the same basket you had spent hours making for him. trying to find his favourite things and even enlisting garcia and jj for help. but it didn't matter now, they were all crumped behind him and you feel yourself deflating as he continues the harsh words.

"you could've surrounded the area, you could've the shot from the back. you could've have done more" he stood, his hair tousled and messy but his eyes were dark with rage. that was new, he never gave you that look before and it rattled you.

"the main priority was you spencer! i-" "no, it was maeve. she was the victim in that situation! thanks to you, her parents lost their only daughter and i lost the only woman i ever loved!" he snapped vehemently, his fists balled up and slamming into the table. the sound shocked you and you look at him with pure confusion and pain

"what?" your voice was so soft, so fragile as you stare at him. your eyes were prickling with tears at how cruel he cold be, making you think if you ever truly knew reid.

so wordlessly, you stood up and walked out of his apartment and towards your car ignoring any and all comments he made. ignoring how he shouted your name, ignoring how he slammed his door when you left.

"you don't know what i mean. you wouldn't know what love is, how could you?" there's so much malice in his voice, it doesn't sound like the spencer you knew. and the very thought makes you want to cry. you tried to defend yourself but in the midst of the moment, seeing him so enraged at you for no reason, its as if those rose coloured glasses had fallen and you saw reid for what he truly was.

that the man you thought he was, the perfected imagine in your head, the romantic and funny and kind hearted doctor reid really only existed to maeve. he never extended that courtesy to you, and now you were an outsider to him. you had killed his one true love and with that, you had killed any love he had for you.

hot angry tears spilled down your cheeks when you reached home, your head swimming at what he had said to you. as much as you tried to force yourself to believe it wasn't him saying these things, you couldn't count how many times he left you feeling like pure shit. you held him in such a high regard but he never did the same to you, you didn't matter the same to him. it was hard because he was grieving and you knew it was a messy process but the pain and the ache in your heart felt so overwhelming.

it was enough, he was mourning someone that was dead. you were mourning a person that was well and truly alive.

•••

after weeks reid had finally come into work, greeting all the team members but you had made sure to stay out of the way. the pure rage that bubbled inside of you wasn't yet securely tightened and you weren't about to cause a scene in the bau.

and he noticed, of course he did.

when everyone hugged and rejoiced that their boy wonder finally came back, you watched from the background. you made no effort to walk towards him, no effort to hug so you just observed with a numbness in your heart that threatened to swallow you whole. he looked at you with a soft smile but you had turned your back, walking back into your office feeling more furious by the second of being anywhere near him.

when everyone sat into the chairs ready to discuss the next case, he noted how you chose the one that was most far away from him. when he tried to make eye contact you kept your gaze to your files or to penelope that explained the gory details.

when it came to sitting on the jet, you made sure someone had sat next to you so he couldn't. even when he was paired with you on a case, you only spoke about the facts and nothing more. he tried to talk but you shut it down, not responding unless it was about the case.

and you were okay with going about it like this. it hurt like a bitch but this way, you couldn't fall into mind numbing fantasies that the thought of you and reid could ever go anywhere. it wasn't the most healthy, sure. but this way, your heart and your head were protected from any links with reid. he was dr reid to you. nothing more, nothing less.

but the last straw was when he turned up to your home, knocking at some ungodly hour while you practically hold back your frustrations by a string. seeing him standing at your door step, tousled hair, dark eyes you have to force your arms back from touching him.

"go home" you utter, avoiding his touch like he was poisoned and trying to side step him to get him away from you

"i can't. i can't go unless this gets this resolved, please" he blocked your path and you tried to reign in the emotions. but with every passing moment, it was becoming incredibly hard to do so.

"and you'd do what?? you thought you'd come here like some prince charming and help me??? this isn't some fairytale reid, wake up" you scoffed and he just stood there completely in shock until it switched to pain and then anger

"why are you being so mean?" his voice was soft but his face had hardened, his eyebrows furrowing at you. that was the straw that broke your back, the fact that he continued to remain ignorant despite everything he had put you through

"you still don't get it, do you??" a humourless chuckle fell from your lips, eyeing him again. the rage felt completely overwhelming but behind that, there was grief. for the person you wish he was, for the man you used to adore. and you so desperately want yourself to be enveloped with the promise of a happy ever after with spencer reid but the truth was, you could never have that. not in this life, he wasn't yours to have nor hold. he wasn't yours to cherish and love.

he shrugs his shoulders, gesturing around eyes wide as he presses you further for the information

"i have supported you throughout this grief despite you being so mean to me reid. i helped you because i didn't want you to suffer alone and yeah, maybe that was my mistake," your eyes were beginning to prick with unshed tears that shone underneath the lights. every anger he had in the past moment has all deflated and he's standing there, looking at you with such a sadness you could almost drown in it.

"i didn't ask for that" his voice was low, his eyes red as the tears welled up.

"you didn't have to! that's what friends do! i loved you reid, more than i ever thought i could" your voice had turned into a soft whisper, tears spilling down your cheeks but you hastily wiped them away

"y/n" he steps forwards but in return you take one back. you wouldn't let him cloud your judgement tonight, he had taken up far too much space in your heart and mind already.

"but that was then. this is now" your voice is firm, looking at him with so many emotions you're not sure which is the most dominant.

"i did everything i could've though to do. i was there outside your damn door, not moving until i heard you eat something. i was there, pretending to walk away so that when you finally showed face, you were still alive. i didn't do that to receive validation, the only thing i wanted to do was to make sure you were okay. but to accuse me of maeve's murder like that..." your voice was pained, as if you still couldn't really believe the extent he had gone to, to make you feel so bad.

"i-i'm sorry y/n" his own voice barely escapes him but you're through with it. all the deceit, the hatred, the lies, the anger, all of it.

"i don't ever want to see you again. i don't want you coming by here anymore. you once asked me what love is? it's this" coming to your full height you walk towards your front door and open it. it's the most hardest thing you've had to do in a while saying goodbye to the man who holds your entire heart. but breaking your heart now meant that he couldn't make it shatter later on.

"y/n please don't do this. i-i love you, i do" if he had said these words to you a mere few weeks ago, how you would've embraced him without a single doubt. he was better than anyone you've ever met and all you truly wanted was his love, to bathe and bask in it.

but you take no notice now, opening the door wider.

"loving you is hard enough, don't make me hate you" your voice trembles and try as you might, it's difficult to stay strong when you feel like you're drowning in your despair.

"please don't do this" his voice shook as the tears he had been holding back finally trailed down his cheeks. he looked absolutely exhausted, so close to breaking but for the first time since you had met reid, you chose yourself. for you knew deep down maeve would always occupy his heart and you could never come close to the fire he burned for her. your love would simply diminish and extinguish, it could never be enough for him.

when he leaves, your back meets your front door. you covered your mouth as short shaky breaths left your lips, the floodgates were well and truly wide open now, the pure devastation and anguish leaving your eyes as you cradle yourself close. but it was better this way. better to face to hard cold reality that reid could never be yours than to envelope yourself with the sweetest lies that he could change.

and spencer was behind your door, his forehead meeting your door as his shoulders shake with all the pain in his heart. a million thoughts in his head and yet not one could pass his lips. his palm flattened over the door, trying but failing to muster up the courage to rap his knuckles again. to make you understand, to make you see that he loved you. that he needed you, that he yearned to be with you. that you were what he needed and he needed your comfort and your help and your presence

but the hand never knocked and all he could do was stand there with choked sobs leaving his lips. his forehead leaning against your front door, never once being so close and yet so incredibly far away from you

[outsideratheart]

Meant to be - snippet (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: this is only the first part of this fic which could be read as a stand alone fic or prequel to Birthdays in Bed. There is more, I promise.

Life has a funny way of giving you the thing you wanted most exactly when you needed it. Sometimes you think it isn’t meant for you, only for it to happen a few months later. 

Both you and Alexia were emotionally exhausted after going through 4 rounds of IVF. The first time didn’t take which you knew was a possibility but the fourth, that one was successful. As Christmas morning came around you watched as Alexia handed out Eli and Alba two very different presents that held the same meaning. They both welled up upon realising what it was you were telling them.

It was happiest time of your lives but only a couple a weeks later, a few days into the new year something felt wrong. You woke up in the middle of the night with sharp pains in your lower abdomen. When you pulled back the bedsheet and saw the red stains you knew exactly what was happening. Alexia woke up just as you got out of bed and saw you go into the en-suite. When she saw the cause of your awakening she jumped out of bed and ran to you.

It was a tough couple of months that followed. The team hadn’t been told that you were expecting so at least training was like normal, that was about the only place. You and Alexia were grieving the loss of your child and it was starting to take its toll. You had a decision to make. Do you try again or take a break to process the loss. In the end you agreed to try once more and if that one didn’t take then you would take a break until the summer where you would try another round.

“Are you ready?” Alexia stood in front of you in your bedroom with the test in her hand. You had sent her into the bathroom to get it as you were too nervous.

You nod your head. That told her yes but that wasn’t was you were feeling. You weren’t ready and that’s because you didn’t know if you want it to be positive or negative. The miscarriage affected you mentally more than you could have imagined.

Alexia looked down and whilst you tried to remain stoic, you saw her features drop a little bit and that told you all you needed to know.

“It’s negative, isn’t it?” You hold your hands out for her to take. She joins you on the bed and rests her head on your shoulder.

“Why is the universe so against us starting a family?” Your wife asked in defeat “We are good people”

“You, my love, are the amongst the very best people” you softly kiss her hairline “This is something that is out of our control. I have put a lot of stress on my body over the years may—“

“No!” Alexia’s head snapped up “You won’t blame yourself for this”

Alexia knew that you blamed yourself for the loss of your unborn child and whilst you promised you were doing better, she knew deep down the guilt was still there.

“I was going to say that it’s because of this stress that it might take a little bit longer than we hoped. Let’s face it, we are not the most patient people in the world”

The woman beside you chuckled as she fell backwards so she is now laying on the bed.

“We will have a family Alexia. It will happen when it is suppose to happen” 

“How do you know that?” 

“I don’t but I refuse to believe the alternative. Now, go shower because we have training in a hour and you know we can’t be late”

It was true. Every training session was crucial at the minute. The team were only a couple of games away from winning the league, the Champions League final was at the end of May and the Copa de La Reina semi final and final was at the beginning of June. It was a busy time for Barcelona and truth be told it was a welcomed distraction for the both of you.

Before you knew it you were playing in the Copa de La Reina final having won the league and the champions league within the span of a month. It was a final again Atleti, your favourite fixture of the season. You got to play against some of your best friends and it was always a good game.

“Once last game. What do you say? Shall we have some fun?” You nudge Alexia as you exit the locker room for the warms up.

“And dinner afterwards” Alexia suggested.

“You do realise that if we win then the whole team will be going on out dinner” you teased.

“I’ll take that as a yes” Alexia kisses you on your lips, leaving you in shock. Never had she done that before a game and not out in the open, not that you were complaining.

You ran your fingers over your lips as you savour the feeling of your wife’s lips on yours. There was something going on with Alexia. She was untouchable on the pitch and she played you ball after ball. Lola did a very good job at keeping your shots out of the net but some she stood no change at stopping. Going in to the final minutes it was 3-2 to Barcelona.

You were through on goal and it was only going to end one way. You felt so confident in the shot you had planned that you were already planning your celebration in your head. Only you never got the chance to fulfil it as you felt the full force of a pair of studs connect with your ankle and you heard something snap. Carmen was by your side immediately.

“Y/N! Y/N!”” Lola joined her followed by Alexia a couple of seconds later. Your wife didn’t push the defender out the way as she knew the tackle wasn’t on purpose. She simple went to your other side but not before looking at your ankle which was clearly broken.

It was bad. You knew this so you didn’t argue when the stretcher came onto the pitch. You were strangely calm as you talked to the physios and the players around you.

“Ale, please come with me to the hospital? I can’t go there alone not after last time” 

Staying and playing out the final seconds was never even a thought in Alexia’s mind. She knew the moment you were referring to and whilst you would be going to a different part of the hospital, she wouldn’t let you go alone.

A couple of hours later you were laid in a hospital room. Alexia was by your side as you both wait for the x-ray results. You knew they had to take them but you didn’t need a medical degree to know that you broke you ankle, it was a clean break and you knew that you would be out for an extended period of time.

It felt as is every five minutes three more footballers joined you in your room. You were pretty sure this many visitors weren’t allowed but you also know that the nurse was a fan which explains the leniency.

When the doctor came in there was enough football players to have a starting 11 and some subs. The older man laughed as he scanned the room. 

“I have your results. Miss Y/L/N—“

“It’s Putellas-Y/L/N” Alexia hated it when people called you by your maiden name even though the two of you never officially announced you were married.

“My apologies. Miss Putellas-Y/L/N” The doctor sent Alexia smile who nodded whilst smiling herself “as I was saying, I have your results. I think it’s best to talk to you in private. Your wife can stay of course”

Up until now you had remained in high spirits having already accepted your fate but the doctor words dampened those spirits entirely. 

“Is something wrong?” Alexia asked as she squeezed your hand three times.

“Not necessarily”

You told your friends that it was ok to leave and the doctor promised to come and get them once the results had been discussed.

The atmosphere in the room did a complete 180 as you and Alexia waited for the doctor to speak. 

“She has broken her ankle, no?” Alexia’s patience grows thin.

“Yes, let’s start with that” he says which confuses you and Alexia “You ankle is broken. It was a clean break but is a bad one. We are going to take you into surgery in the morning”

“No, you do it now. She is a professional athlete. She is a priority”

The doctor looked at you for help.

“Alexia, let the man speak. I’m sure there is a reason for the delay in surgery. There is a reason, right?” 

“There is a reason. It is part of procedure to take blood tests when a patient gets admitted. Y/N,” the man donning a white coat moves closer to you “Have you been trying to start a family?” 

This was private information. Information that you and alexia didn’t feel comfortable discussing with a stranger, nor were you ready to talk about it.

“We were. Did that play a part in the break? Did the hormones I’m taking weaken my body?” 

The doctor looks at you, over to the Alexia and then back to you.

“You’re pregnant. Rather far along actually”

You were rendered speechless. How is this possible? The text was negative and you haven’t tried since. There was no way you were pregnant. Alexia must share the same disbelief because she explains this to the doctor. He confirms again that you are indeed pregnant and that the hospital tests are much more accurate that the ones you take at home.

“You’re 9 weeks along. I have a nurse ready to give you an ultra sound if that is something you would like or we can schedule it for the moment when things are a little bit quieter” he laughs as he dips his head to the door, a reminder that your friends are outside.

“Are you sure?” Alexia asks still not believing what she is hearing.

“100%” and with that the doctor left you and your wife alone to proceed what he has just told you.

[captainsparklefingers]

One of the things I'm taking away from the second go round of Dracula Daily (and particularly from David Ault's excellent performance in Re: Dracula) is how much I like Lord Arthur Godalming.

Like. On the surface and the first time round he stands out the least of Lucy's suitors, and given how much time we hear from Jack, he can come off the most developed. Quincy, of course, gives us a heck of a lot of personality with relatively little (again, compared to how much we get from Jack). Arthur, though, doesn't have the same volume of words to develop, nor the instantly clear personality. He's just Lucy's fiancee, Jack and Quincy's friend, the heroes of light's wealthy benefactor.

But God, this poor man. He's suffered several immense losses in a very short period, been forced to see the woman he loved as a monster, and then had to put her down so she could rest in peace. Beyond the emotional burdens of such losses, he has to deal with the legal matters and the settling of affairs for three different people, probably doing whatever one needs to do to take his father's place in the House of Lords (something I know absolutely nothing about but I assume there's things to do there), AND the earth shattering revelation the supernatural is real, monsters do exist, and the one who killed Lucy is still out there.

And all of that while having to abide by the Victorian standards of manhood. Stalwart, strong, showing no emotions that could make him seem weak.

I think the scene in September 30th, where Mina comforts him and finally he has the chance to let go of all of these burdens he's felt he must carry alone, all of the grief and sorrow he's been forced to carry, he can for at least a moment put aside the mask of manliness society insist he wear and just let himself be a man who has lost his father and his fiancee within days of each other, who is dealing with situations beyond belief.

Obviously we've seen him cry and grieve before but it always felt like he was stifling it to a degree because, well. He only has his male friends to lean on now and the stupid proprieties of society mean he can only lean so much. But now he's had a chance to finally let go, made a connection with Lucy's dearest friend and a new sister of choice. He has his friends, he's finally been allowed to mourn in the way he's truly feeling...and now he's ready to help in whatever way possible to avenge Lucy.

Arthur comes off to me as a very strong character, a man driven by great love, who's emotions, as constrained as they may be, are one of his greatest strengths (and, of course, every good monster hunting group needs a financial benefactor). He's not a flat character at all, he's not forgettable character. Lucy loved him for a reason and, I think, in the moment his grief finally breaks, we get a glimpse at that.

I think that one of the good things of Dracula Daily has been making people realize how good of a character Jonathan Harker is, how pop culture has done damage to the true character of Lucy and Mina…I think we should add that its done a good job of making one care for a character as Arthur, who at first glance seems flat and boring.

Or at least it's made me appreciate him more. And I still want to know how he and Jack and Quincy became friends and what sort of shenanigans they got up to before the events of the book.

[writerslittlelibrary]

You should make one where Wanda and nat get taken by the snap and it leaves there 14 year old daughter for her to grow up alone, later when they return there surprised to see her grow up at first they dont even recognize her because she turns out to be a cold badass. You can add some angst of her not being able to trust them and so on. But over time there family dynamic falls back but they notice y/n is hiding something because she always disappears and is seen talking on the phone. One night they think they hear talk in y/n’s room so they wait a few hours before they check it out and its y/n being super cute with her gf. she introduce her gf who helped her through the snap.

5 years is a long time

masterlist requests masterlist

pairing: WandaNat x daughter reader

warnings: grieve, loss, pain

genre: angst, fluff

words: 2093

a/n: thank you so much anon for the request. I love the idea and I hope you like it 🫶

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work 

-------------------------------------------------------------

Tears. That’s all you remember. The endless crying of that night. Your moms had told you they had to leave for a while to fight an important battle. They told you they would be back. They lied. 

You remember Steve coming to your home. The home you grew up in. The home you three had lived in for your entire life. You were excited when you heard the door open. You thought your moms had returned. They hadn’t.

Steve was standing in the door opening, and the look on his face alone was enough to make you cry. So that’s what you did. For the entire night you did nothing but cry. You couldn’t believe your moms would break their promise. You couldn’t believe your moms would never hold you again. 

Steve had taken you out of your home that night. He said he wanted you to stay with him, so you would be safe. He told you it’s what your moms would’ve wanted, but you had no interest in listening to him. You didn’t sleep that night. What happened wouldn’t leave your brain. You were devastated. 

After a few weeks in the compound, you had started feeling angry. The first few days you felt numb, and you supposed feeling angry was better than that, but in reality it wasn’t.

You would ignore Steve. You wouldn’t eat or take care of yourself. All you could be was angry, and you and Steve fought all the time. After two months, you decided to leave. You were a few weeks away from your fifteenth birthday, and Steve was trying to get you excited for it, but you didn’t want to be.

Usually, you would be so excited you couldn’t sleep, but this time you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Steve talked about it non-stop, and you just couldn’t take it. What was the point in celebrating your birthday if the most important people wouldn't be there?

That was when you decided to leave. 

You found an apartment in Seattle, wanting to be as far away from the compound as you could. That’s where you lived for the past 5 years. You were 19 now, and your life was different than it was when the snap happened.

You used your training to kill. You found that killing people was the only way to ease your anger, ease your thirst for revenge. 

You weren’t proud of it. How could you? Your moms had taught you how to fight to protect, not hurt. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care, however. Your moms were gone. There was no reason in thinking about what they would or wouldn’t agree with. 

You were currently sitting on your couch, cleaning some of your knives. You had another successful assignment yesterday and you were exhausted. There was a lot of commotion in the world, and your assignments were flooding. It seemed that suddenly everyone wanted each other dead. You didn’t know why, but then again, you didn’t follow the news.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock at your door. Besides Charlie, no one knew where you lived, and she wasn’t set to come home for another few days. 

Hesitantly, you opened your door, and you almost broke at the sight. 

In front of you were two people. Two people who you believed you’d never see again. Wanda gasped, clearly shocked by the wounds you carried on your face. Maybe the fact you’d grown 5 years shocked her too. Natasha just stared. She couldn’t believe it. Their little girl was all grown up, but that isn’t what shocked them the most. 

The emptiness in your eyes did. 

Wanda made the first move to hug you, and in your shock you didn’t react. You hadn’t thought this day would ever come, and now it did. 

Natasha seemed to snap out of her shock, moving to embrace you as well. 

They cried. You didn’t.

When they moved into your apartment you were quick to clean the knives from your coffee table. You were afraid of how they would react. You knew they would be disappointed, but you just weren’t ready for a lecture of them yet. 

Natasha and Wanda stayed in your guest room, and much like the night you lost them, you were awake. You couldn’t sleep, and you knew they wouldn’t be able to either.

The next day Natasha and Wanda had convinced you to move back into their apartment. They kept telling you how sorry they were for leaving, and how they wanted to make up for all the years they lost. You agreed, moving back into your childhood home. You didn’t know how you’d react if they ever were to return, but you never expected to feel so… numb.

You had lived together for a few days now, and you had a hard time trusting them. You fought a few times already, mainly with Natasha. You refused to call them mom and mama again. You just couldn’t. Wanda was just trying to be there for you, while Natasha was more set on getting answers.

You were frustrated. You couldn’t provide your moms with any answers. You didn’t have any. 

Last night you and Natasha fought again, and she yelled at you saying she couldn't recognise you anymore. You were lost. You didn’t know how to react.

All those nights you wished your moms would return to you, and wishing things would go back to the way they were. Now you wished things would go back to the way they were after they disappeared. You didn’t want to face them, and living with them again after so many years proved to be much more difficult than you initially thought. 

Most nights you spend in your room, talking to the only person that stayed the same through all of it. 

You spoke to Charlie most nights. She was the only person you had found comfort with all this time. The only person you felt you could trust, and the only person you felt you could be yourself around.

Charlie lost both of her parents in the snap as well, and when you were on an assignment one day to kill a dangerous man, you had found Charlie in one of the rooms in his house.

She was locked up, and she looked sick. You had taken her home with you, caring for her wounds. She didn’t speak much, only thanking you when appropriate. You didn’t mind much. You were happy you could still do some good. You were both 17 at the time, and you grew close quickly. 

Charlie had told you what happened. How she lost her parents and the man had taken her. You offered her to stay with you, and she agreed. You grew closer quickly, and your friendship soon developed into something more. 

Charlie was the only person you cared about. The only person you could be yourself around. The only person you loved through those years. 

Charlie had reminded you of your humanity, and she never scolded you for doing what you did. 

It’s funny, really. All those nights you spend on your own, in the bed of your new apartment, you longed to be laying in your own bed, with your moms downstairs. Now, while you were lying in the bed of your childhood home, with your moms downstairs, you longed for the nights in your own apartment. Spend watching movies and eating cheap take out with Charlie. 

You hadn’t told your moms about Charlie yet. You didn’t know how to. You didn’t know you wanted to.

Your moms were downstairs, discussing your behavior. Wanda was crying. She felt so incredibly hurt by the fact you called her ‘Wanda’ now. She missed the days you called her mommy. When you would come running downstairs all excited because you had a random thought you felt like Wanda should know. 

Her and Natasha were talking about how you seemed so closed off. So cold. How you were always in your room and how it seemed like you were hiding something.

Tonight, while you were on a call with Charlie, Natasha had decided to check on you, wanting to talk to you about their concerns. When she reached your room, she could hear you talking to someone. She decided not to knock on the door, instead opening it to see you lying on your bed, with your back turned to the door. You didn’t notice she was standing there, to captivated by your phone call.

You were giggling, and Natasha wasn’t sure when she last heard you laugh. 

Natasha just stood there, soaking up your happiness. When you ended the phone call, you told Charlie ‘I love you’, which didn’t go unnoticed by Natasha.

When you turned around you were startled, and when you released Natasha was eavesdropping you were upset. 

“I’m sorry,” Natasha told you, and you sighed, sitting up in your bed. Natasha sat at the end of your bed, not wanting to make you uncomfortable by sitting too close. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, it’s just been a while since I’ve seen you laugh.”

“I’m sorry too,” you told her, not wanting to look at her.

“I understand it must’ve been hell for you, and it must have been so confusing, even now we’re back. It’s confusing for us too. A few weeks ago you were our little 14 year old girl, and now you’re all grown up. I’m sorry we don’t know how to help you, and I’m sorry we weren’t there,” Natasha told you with tears in her eyes. 

You sniffled and shook your head. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been a terrible daughter. I was never mad at you. I’m just so angry, and I didn’t know how to handle that,” you explained to her, tears rolling down your cheeks.

Natasha pulled you into a hug, the first you’d had since the night they returned. You cried together, and Wanda, who probably heard the crying, came upstairs and sat next to you on the other side. 

You kept crying, repeating ‘I’m sorry’ until you were so tired you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore. 

You fell asleep in their arms, and when you woke up, they were still there. 

You had all moved down to the kitchen for breakfast, and for the first time in 5 years, you were eating breakfast together, talking. There was no tension, no crying, no fighting and no yelling. Just talking.

“So who was that girl on the phone yesterday?” Natasha suddenly asked you. 

You looked up at her quickly, surprised with her question. “What?” you asked her confused. “Yesterday you were talking on the phone with a girl. You seemed really happy.” 

You looked at your plate, pushing the leftover fruit around on it. “We’re not mad, just curious,” Wanda told you. “Her name’s Charlie. She’s kinda my girlfriend,” you told your moms hesitantly.

You didn’t look at them, but you felt Wanda scooting her chair closer, engulfing you in a hug. “We’re so happy for you!” she exclaimed, and you relaxed in her arms. “Thanks,” you mumbled. Natasha sat down in the chair on the other side of you, rubbing your back. “Where is she now?” Natasha asked. 

“Still in Seattle. We lived together in that apartment,” you told her, sitting up straight again. 

“We should invite her over, if you want too,” Wanda suggested. You nodded. “I’d like that,” 

Two days later Charlie was standing in front of your door again, and she hugged you tight. “I’ve missed you,” you murmured. She nodded, kissing your forehead. 

When she let you go, she noticed your moms standing behind you. Natasha was the first one to introduce herself, telling her it was nice to meet her. Wanda was next, giving her a small hug. 

You had dinner that night, the four of you, and after finding out you had lived together for 2 years, Wanda suggested she should stay for a while. Charlie agreed, and you couldn’t be happier. The night was ended with movies, you in Charlie’s arms, just like all those other nights. The only difference was your moms sitting next to you, smiling at the wonderful young woman you’d grown into. 

[mozzeralla-stix]

Heyyyyy! So can I request a Carl x fem reader where she’s insecure and Carl sees her body for the first time after her trying to hide it for ages. It can be smut or fluff or both🫶🏻

Every Piece of You

Carl Grimes x Insecure fem! reader

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, negative self talk, crying, body issues, L bombs, f! receiving oral

Carl finally sees reader for the first time and can’t help but show his adoration…

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Somehow, despite the beauty of having a clean and safe house to live in with running water and electricity, I still find my brain focusing so deeply on all the wrongs in my life. More specifically, the wrongs that are a part of me. There are a lot of terrible things I’ve had to do to survive on the road. My hands aren’t clean of blood, but time and improvement can change that. What can’t change- however- is my body. I pull the sweat filled shirt off of my body reluctantly, knowing I have to shower eventually.

As the garment drops to the floor I can’t help but stare at myself in disgust once again. Each curve and dip in my body only reminds me of how unattractive my frame is. It’s a wonder how I managed to get Carl to love me. Probably because he has never seen my body, I’m sure the day he finally sees me without clothes will be the day I’m single once again. I wrap my arms around myself while tears well up on my eyes. I can barely see my reflection with the liquid overwhelming my waterline, finally beginning to trail down my cheeks as I let out weak sobs. I can’t help but grieve the end of Carl and I’s relationship- as its inevitable end will one day come with the reveal of my body.

I hear a soft knock on the door followed by, “Y/n? Hun? Are you okay in there? I’m coming in.”

Before I can scramble to cover myself up or run to the door, I see Carl standing in the doorway. I feel fear rush through me- not ready whatsoever for this moment. Carl’s eyes light up, and his mouth suddenly falls slightly agape. I feel tears threaten to fall again once the shock leaves my body. “Carl! I’m so sorry. You weren’t supposed to see this. I know it’s awful. Please just don’t-“

“Oh my god Y/n, you’re beautiful.”

I am stopped in my tracks, my brows furrowing in utter confusion and disagreement. I shake my head side to side, refusing to accept such an impossible notion. “You don’t have to pretend, Carl. I know I’m not. Please just don’t leave over this. You don’t even have to see me like this ever again.”

Before I can continue, Carl walks over and gently pulls me into his warm embrace, placing my head gently in the crook of his neck. Sobs that I was holding back barreled their way through my barricades, forcing salty tears out of my eyes and onto Carl’s flannel. The comfort of his very presence: his smell, the tickle of his long brown locks on my cheek and neck, his steady heartbeat and slow breathing- it all became so overwhelming.

“Sweetheart, I think you’re so beautiful. Best thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. As upset as I am that it happened this way- I’m so happy I’ve finally gotten to see the love of my life in such an intimate way. Nothing could change my love for you.” Carl follows with a soft kiss to my lips before pulling away to look into my eyes- his soft blue ones giving me a loving look.

“Carl, I love you too. So much. I’m sorry.” I barely let out before pulling him back into a hug, gripping his flannel harder than ever as the tears slowly stop.

“It’s okay, don’t apologize. You’re so amazing. So pretty.”

Carl starts to kiss me gently, moving his hands down to grab at my hips. I feel myself tense up, only to be comforted by Carl placing one hand on the top of my head, lightly stroking my hair. Our kiss deep new as both Carl and I slightly tilt our heads to the side, hoping to feel even more of a connection between our two selves. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to me. In response, Carl tugs lightly at my hip and pulls my body flush against is as I whimper from the contact.

Carl slowly begins to guide me back towards the counter, pinning my hips to the surface once my back hits the edge. I let out a gasp and Carl takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth- forcing an unexpected moan out of me. I feel his tongue lap against mine, creating amazing friction between our two mouths. I tug at his hair, causing him to groan and lightly roll his hips up towards mine. The sudden contact makes me whimper, loving the satisfying rhythm developing between us. Carl trails his lips down to my face, stopping at the junction of my jaw and neck.

He latches onto the small patch of skin and begins to gently suck, leaving a dark mark on my neck. I moan and can’t help but buck my hips forward at the sudden rush of pleasure. He lets out a low groan and is only fueled further by my little reactions. I continue to tug on his hair and roll my hips with his, reveling in the feeling of our bodies being so close and intertwined. Carl trails down my neck even further- leaving dark, bruising love bites that are sure to show in the morning. He reaches my collarbone and bites down on the sensitive mound lining my neck.

“Ahh~ Ca- Carl! Please.”

Carl gives the bone one final nibble before raising his head and moving close to my ear, carefully whispering “Don’t worry, pretty girl. You’ll get what you want soon. patience..”

I nod my head feverishly and feel his hands begin to tighten around my hips, lifting me up so that I am sitting on top of the bathroom counter. A deep blush creeps up my neck and spreads itself across my cheeks, displaying my embarrassment and needy nature all to Carl. He leans down and starts to make out with me- this time with much more heat and desperation. I match his movements, the newly present wetness at my core pooling into my panties.

With his hands gripping my hips even tighter than before, he begins to roll his hard on up into me while guiding my hips towards his, creating strong friction between us two. I throw my head back in a daze of submission and pleasure, desperately following his lead. Each time his dick rubs against me through the layers of clothing I feel an electric shock run up my spine, causing loud moans to slip from my mouth uncontrollably. Carl let’s out a few of his own while he places his hand over my mouth gently, attempting to muffle my loud displays of enjoyment.

“Gotta be quiet for me, ‘kay my love? Can you do- mmph~ do that for me?”

I quickly nod and continue to do my best to suppress my noises, still following his hips with my own bucking movements. I whine as he slows his grinding, eyeing me up and down.

Carl slowly moves one hand to my back, looking into my eyes for approval for a moment before undoing my bra. I allow it to slip down my arms, revealing my bare chest to Carl. His eyes dilate with amazement, just before he looks up at me with a hungry expression. I have no choice but to stare back, frozen with arousal and embarrassment. I move my hands to the hem of his shirt, begging him to take it off as well. Carl quickly gets the message with a small chuckle and pulls the shirt over his head, tossing it into the pile of clothes forming on the bathroom floor. I stare in awe, never having seen his bare torso much. My eyes trail from his distinct collarbones to his chest, continuing my gaze all the way down to his toned abdomen and the patch of hair that leads beneath his jeans. I flush a dark red and dart my eyes to his forearms, the view of his muscles ever so slightly popping out due to his leaning position certainly not helping the color on my face. Carl’s hand then comes up to my chin- gently lifting it so that I’m looking him in the eyes.

“It’s okay to look sweetheart, it’s all yours.”

I practically melt at the comment before Carl places a chaste kiss on my lips. He then gently lowers himself down to his knees, placing his strong hands onto the top of my covered thighs.

He slides his hand up to the button of my jeans while his other remains on my thigh, slowly rubbing up and down. He makes quick work of the button, removing my jeans to reveal my panties. He spots the wet spot soaking through the thin fabric, and looks me in the eyes while he licks a strip from the area to the top of my cloth covered pussy. I let out a moan and tangle my hands in his hair, rolling my lips delicately against his mouth. He removes his mouth from my core to place soft kisses all around the inside of my thighs, biting down on the last placement to leave a dark hickey. The pleasure overwhelms me, until he lets go of the plush area and presses his thumb against the love bite, bringing a shiver up my spine at the small mix of pleasure and pain.

“Please! I cant wait any longer Carl..” I say as I tug at his hair again, barely able to contain myself. Carl sighs and gives in, gripping the hem of my panties and pulling them down to reveal my soaking wet core. He looks up at me and gives me a loving smile.

“God, you’re just so unbelievably beautiful. Every part of you.” He let’s out breathlessly.

I try to stutter out a thank you, but am interrupted by Carls tongue feverishly lapping at my clit, fueled by desire and the need to prove just how majestic he found my body to be. I begin to feel as though I am weightless, squeezing my eyes shut in pure bliss and Carl descends to my throbbing entrance. He licks up all of the juices seeping out of me, moaning as he does so. This sends waves of extra pleasure through me as the vibrations travel from my pussy to my abdomen. He then latches himself on my clit, sucking harshly on the enlarged bud. My back arches aggressively, letting out an incredibly lewd moan as I tug on his hair.

Carl moves away from my sensitive pussy, pulling himself up with a smirk. He moves his lips towards mine and kisses me, forcing me to taste myself on my tongue. He disconnects the intimate kiss and quickly removes his pants and boxers, revealing his hard and aching cock. Glistening pre-cum drips from the slightly red tip as my eyes widen, realizing that that is supposed to fit inside of me. I turn red and Carl catches on, pulling me into his tight embrace. His skin feels warm, sending comfort into my once tense muscles. He gently rubs my back before pulling away, placing a gentle kiss on my cheek.

“I promise it’ll fit darlin’, I would never hurt you. You’ll take it all so well for me, I know you will.”

I nod while he pumps himself a few times, lining his cock up to my dripping entrance.

“I love you, Carl.”

“I love you too, Y/n. So much.”

With that Carl gently pushed into my wet folds, causing me to gasp and throw my arms around his shoulders- pulling his torso flush to mine. I stuff my head into his neck and whimper, feeling a light sting. Carl wraps one arm around my back to grip the other side of my hips, while his other hand sneaks down to my clit and rubs the sensitive mound in a circular motion. The wavering pleasure helps me relax- allowing me to let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in, while Carl continues to push himself into me so gently.

“F-fuck. Doing so well f’me darlin’. God~”

I can tell he is struggling to keep it together while his cock dips further into me, eventually bottoming out with a groan. I feel my chest fill with warmth and love, the energy between us filling the small room with rose colored feelings. I take a deep breath and sigh, adjusting to the feeling of being apart of him. My pussy instinctively squeezes my walls around him, causing Carl to whimper and buck his hips back into me. However, he doesn’t stop once he initially fucks himself into me- making slow yet steady thrusts into me. He looks down at our connection, watching as his hard member disappears with every thrust inside of me.

I gently scratch at his back and moan into his neck, practically squirming in his touch. The pleasure overwhelms me, along with the intense feelings shared between us in this intimate moment. Unexpectedly, I don’t feel any insecurity about being bare in front of Carl. The way he cares so deeply and ensured I’m not hurt, the way he longingly looks at my body while fucking into me, the way he rolls his hips ever so delicately to ensure this feels amazing for the both of us. Carl’s actions are filled with love and adoration. He loves me for me, every single piece.

My brain starts to go foggy with pleasure, as I let out soft moans and whimpers in an attempt to keep myself quiet. I allow Carl’s name to occasionally roll of my tongue, longing the way he groans in response to my desperate calls for him. I feel myself nearing the edge, tears starting to well up in the corner of my eyes- both due to the love I feel and the way that Carl perfectly hits my g-spot with every thrust.

My moans get louder and I can barely mumble a “Carl- Ahh mph~ I’m close!” against Carl’s shoulder. He gently lifts my head up with his hand and makes me look him in the eyes- the tears only getting more intense and rapid with our irises creating an unbreakable link between Carl and I. He smashes his lips against mine, moaning into my mouth while he passionately slips his tongue into my mouth.

The coil in my stomach gets impossibly tighter, a tense yet comfortable sensation growing in my abdomen. I begin to claw at his bare back- leaving dark red marks trailing all down him. Carl moans and rolls his hips once more, teetering me over the edge.

Everything falls apart within me and Carl pulls away from the kiss, whispering “Let it go, love. It’s okay.”

I yelp out a lewd moan at his word choice and ride out my orgasm, the rhythmic clenching and unclenching pushing Carl over the edge as well. I feel his cock tense up inside of me right before spilling his warm cum deep inside of me, enhancing the last bits of my orgasm.

Carl rests his forehead against mine while breathing very heavily, closing his eyes before pressing a soft kiss to my lips.

“I love you Y/n, every single piece of you.”

“I love you too, Carl. Always and forever.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚

oh my god i’m sorry this took so long. lots going on rn. hope you enjoy!! <3

[sadcoms]

timepetals thoughts i keep having:

i know that the assumption is “she is my s-” means soulmate but i always think he just thinks of rose as his soul. less that she completes him or is his other half and more that she just is his conscience and any goodness he may have is hers. he was born out of love for her, she is such an integral part of him, she is his soul itself.

i know everyone has taken permanent damage from the “how long are you going to stay with me” and why the general focus is on the doctor’s reaction but the way rose says forever gets to me. she’s not giddy or girlish when she says it, in some ways she almost sounds resigned to it, which has wonderfully angsty connotations in the timeline of s2. but it’s why it really works for me, she is so dead serious and committed when she says it, because she understands everything it means (and therefore part of her feels solemn about it). it has a lot of weight to it. even the first time donna says she’s going to travel with the doctor forever to martha at the end of the doctor’s daughter she sounds a lot more fanciful.

every time i hear the doctor scream when rose loses her grip in doomsday i just think that he would absolutely not have survived her actually being sucked into the void.

i always think the vocals in doomsday are similar to the doctor’s theme so to me the angry rock music is rose’s side and the vocals are his, rather than the howling wolf idea i’ve heard some people compare it to. how the doctor’s theme is lonely and mournful with its sparse instruments but calm, everything the ninth doctor was, while doomsday is heartbroken and angry and an entire orchestra because it’s two people overcome with grief together. how doomsday becomes such a motif for both characters individually, even when they're separated.

i still struggle to comprehend that the doctor wearing floral ties in s3 is canon and NOT a fanfic trope like you're telling the doctor said "i need a floral motif as close to my two hearts as possible" and you're describing him as something other than a grieving widower???

the doctor really could not go anywhere in s3 without running into some kind of couple but i never see people talk about the parallels in 42. “we chose this ship together / he keeps me honest so i don’t want false hope” and the way the doctor literally gives mcdonnell his condolences through gritted teeth?? the fact that she would rather die with korwin than be without him and have it be her fault

that the doctor, king of self-loathing, saw rose dressed as his ninth self and carrying a giant weapon and he not only RAN to her but then deliberately protected her from the trauma of seeing him change again. and then tentoo immediately picks a blue suit to be like now i’m matchey matchey with rose 🥰 the universe was ending and he’d seen rose again for two actual minutes but the doctor was so utterly focused on her.

how tentoo truly is rose's doctor, especially as he's got that little bit of nine in him. he's born out of the same love and protection of his previous incarnations but he loses a heart and the curse of the timelords and goes oh, this is rose's heart. and then he wears the blue mourning suit and yes, there is still mourning, but there is also the start of the rest of their lives together.

how the doctor’s hair most noticeably changed after school reunion to become spikier and less boyish. how that coincides with him using mickey to put distance between himself and rose now that he’s been reminded of rose’s mortality.

how wild the doctor and jack’s conversation in utopia is. the way the doctor says “rose” like it’s an entire explanation in itself because even before she absorbed the time vortex she fundamentally changed the life of everyone she met. the way he says “everything she did was so human” and the way he accepts jack’s sorry to him because there’s no trying to deny his feelings from jack, not when he saw his ninth self. the way jack has BARELY finished his sentence about watching rose grow up when the doctor casually asks him if he wants to die, the almost playful way he says it. one semi suicidal immortal who spent half of the season trying to get himself killed to another, both of them still kind of toying with the idea. both of them trying to have hope even though they've lost so much.

[yesimwriting]

Without Faith

a/n giggling and kicking my feet rn btw, this is meant to be a set up for something longer! lmk if you're interested in part 2 :)

Summary: After a news story that was only meant to be an internship assignment spirals into a crime story that earns national attention, you feel conflicted enough about your involvement to join a criminal psychology class despite being a journalism major. Despite your good intentions, the universe seems to have it out for you considering your slightly older professor is extremely attractive and the only person that seems to understand what you're going through.

Warnings/info: age gap (reader is of consenting age tho!!), future student-professor relationship, slow burn, slight changes to how college works for the sake of plot, a surprising amount of lore (i got carried away), me writing for a character for a first time on here so be kind 😭

----

It's not often one finds their enemy crumpled up and lying helplessly next to an overflowing garbage can. It's even rarer to see that and still feel the bitter sting of defeat.

"He didn't text me back, which is weird because when I ran into him on Friday--" Carlie, who might know you better than you know yourself, pauses.

You turn your head away from the trash in an attempt to abandon the newspaper as completely as the person who had thrown it away. "You saw James last week? You didn't tell me."

She watches you for a moment, her eyebrows pulling together in a way that tells you she won't accept your lie just because you're offering her an opportunity to re-dissect her most recent interaction with her latest target. "You know I did."

Carlie shifts her weigh from one foot to the other, her eyes drifting towards the ground. "It's there because it's old--it's over."

It's over. The words crack themselves against your skull. More than a sentence, more than a promise. The only consolation the state's attorney could offer grieving families. The sound ringing in your ears as a mother gave into her agony, a choked sob ripping its way out of her throat.

It's over--the catalyst that sent the mother to you in a parking lot illuminated by stale, synthetic lighting. They're the reason for her confession, that in some off-kilter way she thought the verdict would make her feel better.

It's over--the syllables that accompany the sound of the needle leaving Josh Robinson's lifeless body. Killed by the justice system or the media?

"You didn't do anything wrong." Carlie's voice is careful in its unflinchingness. "He was a serial killer. You--you wrote the truth."

And while this awareness has bound itself to your bones, it is rarely enough to make you forget what you did wrong. Journalists are impartial, they don't--they're supposed to understand, they're supposed to be careful. You took it a step further.

"I know."

You don't need to look up to know that you haven't convinced her. However, you must have sounded okay enough for Carlie to accept moving on. "And you're doing more than anyone else would do to make your true crime even better."

It's an exaggeration. Journalists have done a lot more for their careers than request to join a class that belongs to a department unrelated to their degree. But Carlie seems so happy to be able to compliment you, you decide to go with a less sentimental correction, "Not true crime."

"I know, journalism." She sighs, but continues to walk forward in a way that feels oddly optimistic. Maybe even relieved. "Make sure you point out the difference to the professor. I'm sure he'll love that."

You roll your eyes at her sarcasm, but follow her lead anyway. You've already perfected the elevator pitch you're planning to present to Dr. Spencer Reid. A brief but genuine description of the importance of ethical journalism, especially when it comes to writing about serial killers.

You're well practiced and far from worried about winning him over. Academic authority figures have always taken well to you...it also doesn't hurt that you spent all night googling him just to be safe.

"Actually," she begins, pulling open the door to the psychology building, "I bet there's no room for original material in the interaction that you've already imagined, planned, and mentally rehearsed."

You scoff as you step past the door's threshold. "No," the word is dismissive and entirely unconvincing. You instinctually move past it. "Go talk to your advisor about your thesis, I'll meet with Dr. Reid, and then we can order food or something."

The reminder of her own meeting seems to kill the mood, her smile morphing into something more focused. Carlie lets out a small breath. "Right. We got this." And with one final assuring nod, Carlie turns towards the stairwell.

----

The thought is a dull ache that wedges itself into your chest before you can bring yourself to knock against the door. It'll follow you forever.

When you step into the room, Dr. Reid will inevitably ask why you want to join his class. And then you'll have to answer.

You exhale as you extend your arm, knuckles rapping against the wooden surface before overthinking can hurt you any further. After a brief silence, you hear a slightly muffled, "Come in."

You reach for the brass handle, pulling the door open before stepping past the doorway's threshold.

The office is comfortable, a large desk and two plush chairs manage to share the space without seeming cramped. There's a pencil holder and several stacks of papers on the desk's surface. If one ignores the degrees--and the age of the recipient when he received them--on the walls, the office seems normal. Almost suspiciously so. There's even a partially wilted plant sitting on the windowsill.

After taking in the room, you let your attention fall to the individual behind the desk. He's--he--while you've read enough about Dr. Reid to already respect him, and are fully aware that he is far from your peer, you're also now looking at him.

Last night, you did stumble onto a few pictures of him that forced you to reluctantly make a mental note of the fact that he's aesthetically pleasing, but those occasionally blurry snapshots did him and his sharp features little justice.

"Hello," the word is an instinct, slipping past your lips before you're ready to speak.

"Hi," his response is as sudden and lacking in context as your own--a fact that immediately eases you.

Dr. Reid shifts, back straightening against his seat. "You're here for your appointment." You barely have the chance to nod in confirmation before he's continuing, "Come in, take a seat."

In all honesty, you're more glad for the direction than the excuse to sit. You enter his office fully, approaching the plush chair in front of his desk. You sit down, lips parting before you're ready to speak. All structured thoughts have abandoned you.

"Hi." You realize your mistake immediately. You blink, a sound between a self deprecating laugh and a sigh escaping you. "I already said that."

If Dr. Reid thinks anything of your mistake, he gives no indication of it. His expression remains steady, with the exception of the corner of his mouth briefly tugging itself upwards.

Your hands come together on your lap, one of your nails pressing into the nail bed of the thumb on your opposite hand before forcing yourself to relax. You've read enough about his work with the FBI to know that he's so adept at analyzing behavior, you don't need to make it easy for him by giving into obvious signs of nervousness.

"Like I mentioned in my email, I'm interested in joining your class even though it's not an elective and in an entirely different department than my degree." This part is easy, a perfunctory explanation of what he already knows. "However, there is enough overlap that my advisor is supportive of the idea and has already signed off on it."

He shifts again, his pointer finger tapping against the surface of his desk. "Right, she mentioned that, but she didn't mention why."

Okay. This is the part that matters. "I'm a journalism major, and I've recently completed an internship with The Washing Sun." In an act of total self betrayal, you study his expression for any hint of recognition. Finding absolutely none makes it easier to breathe. "And spending time in such an active, journalistic environment has made me fully aware of the way that morals and personal views can complicate ethics."

You pause, pressing your lips together. "I'd like the opportunity to learn about certain behaviors in order to develop a perspective separate from my own.

Though still politely neutral, something behind Dr. Reid's eyes implies an uncertainty that has the rest of your pitch jamming itself down your throat. Whatever's changed doesn't feel like disbelief, and you're far from worried about being accused of lying. You were careful to comb through your mess of emotions before you had even pitched the idea to your advisor--you do feel those things, they're just not the only things you feel.

How delusional had you been to assume the same answers that hid their vagueness behind a heavy layer of altruism that worked on Mrs. Carol would work on a FBI profiler?

"I um--" The sound of your own voice surprises you. "I know what it's like to write something when you can't feel anything for the person everyone's already rooting against, and I'd like to not feel that again." Another glimmer of honesty, barer than your curated story, but still not exactly everything.

Dr. Reid is quiet for a moment, studying you with an openness that should make your skin crawl. "What did it feel like?"

The question throws you. Friends, family, strangers--they've all asked you things about the case, about your article, about hundreds of other things so barely connected you couldn't fathom an answer. No one has ever asked you about that feeling.

"Uh..." You're not even sure you have an answer. "Weird." Your blankness feels like such a cop out, you feel the need to try again. What did it feel like? A hybrid beast made of a festering not-quite-guilt, an over awareness of your every action, all held together by an uneasy pride...that only served to further aggravate the not guilt. "Like I was doing something right and wrong, with no way of knowing what it was more of."

You squeeze your hands together, allowing yourself to focus on the action instead of him. "I'm sorry, that probably doesn't make much sense."

When you finally lift your head, Dr. Reid is already looking at you. A moment passes, the somberness of his features growing heavier in the silence. Maybe he's looking at something past you. "It does."

The affirmation is a small, fragile thing, so faint and far away it almost feels like an intrusion to have heard it. Some selfish part of you latches onto that, his unexpected understanding a lifeline you can't let go of.

You almost thank him before realizing that you have no idea what you'd be thanking him for. "I'm glad," you settle on, fingers carefully coming apart on your lap. "The writing thing's no good if I don't make sense."

The attempt at humor seems to pull him back from wherever he had gone. "Then you have nothing to worry about." He doesn't exactly smile, but there's something easy about the way he's looking at you. "I'll approve your enrollment request."

Relief floods through you immediately. "Really?"

"Maybe it'll help you feel less...weird." From him, your too plain adjective feels a lot more fitting.

You nod once, the motion quick and polite. "Hopefully." The beat of silence that follows comes closer to kinship than anything you've ever felt in someone's office. You're also fully aware of the fact that you've gotten what you came for and that Dr. Reid is likely a very busy man. "I shouldn't take up anymore of your time."

His fingers tap against his desk. "Right. I'll see you in class."

You smile as you stand. "See you then."

The walk towards the door is a lot less intimidating now. Still, once you reach it, you can't bring yourself to immediately reach for the handle. You pause, letting out a breath before turning around. "Dr. Reid?"

He looks up, nodding once in a way that's meant to prompt you. Maybe it's overkill, but it feels necessary and it's too late to back out now. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He doesn't look away from you after responding.

There's nothing left to expect, there are no words or anything else meant to be said. That's not enough to stop some unknown feeling from wedging itself between your ribs, urging you to something, to say anything that might come close to offering him the same kind of understanding he's given you.

"I hope you find a less weird, too."

He doesn't respond, but something about the look behind his eyes and his slight nod makes you feel okay about leaving him.

----

There are few ideologies that have clung to him, and even fewer that have managed to bind themselves to some integral part of his being that exists beneath his skin.

The pursuit of knowledge is one of the few constants Spencer Reid allows himself to rely on, one of the only things he allows himself to consider a saving grace. However, circumstance has prevented his views on the subject from skewing. The irony of the fact that some things are better left unknown is not lost on him.

For example, the girl that walked into his office and immediately saw through him, is better left a mystery. He'd see her in class, he'd answer her questions, he'd grade her work and offer her necessary feedback--but he will not know her.

It's a mantra, a promise that he repeats in his head again and again as his attention falls to the desktop in front of him. He attempts to grasp onto this lack of knowledge, to transform it into a tangible entity to keep him from typing your name into the search engine.

----

a/n spencer entering his garcia era while googling reader 💻🧑‍💻

anyways in ur interested in part 2 or would like to be tagged let me know!!

[lauraneedstochill]

I debated whether I should keep my opinion on EP3 in the comments to @st-eve-barnes post (she made some good arguments btw!) but I guess I’m out of fucks to give. just like the HOTD scriptwriters ✌

big fat disclaimer: I sincerely can’t say a single bad thing about Ewan. his acting was absolutely amazing, he owned the scene, and it’s pretty clear he doesn’t have a problem with nudity (if you watched “High Life”, you know what I’m talking about; if you didn’t, please read the warnings before watching).

my problem is with everything leading up to the brothel scene with Aegon — because this is NOT how you write conflict, and because it could’ve hit way harder if only it was done PROPERLY. unsurprisingly, it started in EP2:

➡ the fact that we got absolutely no reaction to B&C from Aemond is a joke. I’ve read some people saying “well, Jaehaerys isn’t his son so why would he care” — sure, Aemond wasn’t competing to win the uncle of the year award. BUT you are telling me he wouldn’t simply be pissed about the fact that a couple of nobodies managed to sneak into the supposedly well-guarded castle and kill a Targaryen like it’s no big deal? that they dared to put a knife to Helaena’s neck, that they clearly could’ve done worse things to her? that they left a mess in his room, touched his stuff? you mean Aemond, who is definitely an annoying perfectionist who puts every thing in its specific place, Aemond who’s extremely arrogant about being the best warrior, the biggest defender, the mister-know-it-all, Aemond who clearly has anger issues — HE wouldn’t be fuming on the inside? HE wouldn’t rush to the small council meeting to know all the details? HE wouldn’t volunteer to help Aegon murder the ones responsible? it’s a pity everyone’s forgotten S1 Aemond but I have NOT.

➡ I won’t talk much about the brothel scene in EP2 (@pygmyharmoset analyzed it really well) but I will say that to me it felt very disconnected from the main plotline. yet again, there is NO ! BUILD UP ! was it so hard to at least show Aemond leaving? to let us know what mood he was in (was he agitated? fidgeting? when exactly he decided to leave? did something trigger it?). they could’ve cut out the moment of his arrival so we wouldn’t know where he was going to have the big shocking reveal later when he’s suddenly with Sylvi, all naked and vulnerable. it would’ve only taken an additional MINUTE of screentime!

➡ now, to the worst of it — and I really want you to think over what I’m about to say:

people are allowed to grieve in their own way. not everyone is lucky to have all the right tools to process trauma.

did Aegon treat Aemond poorly? was he mean and cruel to his younger brother? yes. yes, he was (newsflash: there are no good people in this show. hope this helps).

BUT

was Aegon’s child killed because of a mistake Aemond made? is it possible that Aegon’s been harboring his resentment, that the absence of Aemond in that tragic, pivotal moment in their lives hurt him? the answer is also YES. Aegon doesn’t know how and has never seen how to cope with emotions in a healthy way, and it’s not in his power to break the cycle so he keeps repeating all the same mistakes. that’s the tragedy of it and that’s the ticking bomb planted under the foundation of their relationship.

the tragedy of that dumbass writing we’ve been presented with is that we did not see their conflict take root. we DID NOT get to see how their discontent kept growing, how they both felt caged and dissatisfied with their circumstances (Aegon realizes no one wants him on the throne and he feels helpless, Aemond is constantly being denied the chance to prove himself so he also feels helpless) — and how eventually that anger they couldn’t channel into anything else made them lash out at each other.

my first thought after watching EP3 was that there’s gotta be a scene missing between the small council meeting and the brothel scene. there SHOULD’VE been a scene with just Aegon and Aemond, they had all the reasons and opportunities for it! here, think about this:

Aemond’s comment at the end of the meeting comes off as patronizing (“It’s a brave thought” — Aemond is forbidden to leave with Vhagar so he’s glad that Aegon has to sit back, too). Aegon insists that he’s just “as fearsome”; but the thing is, he isn’t sure of it, so of course Aemond’s words stay with him, nibble at him, and it would only take a cup or two for him to get heated about it. he calls Aemond to his chambers and brings back the topic — “You don’t deem me brave, brother? You do not think I’d fight just as hard?”. it’s only the two of them, Aegon is in full armor, standing on his little wooden stool, a cup in his hands. and because he is hurting, he wants to hurt Aemond in return. so he gets off the stool and comes closer to him, sneering, “You are, no doubt, a fierce warrior,” — but then the smile falls off his face, and his voice gets quiet, pained, searing, “So tell me, where were you when my son was being murdered? I came to learn that they were looking for you, were they not? Oh, you would’ve fought them off with ease, for sure. So where were you, huh?”

and then you get the tension breaking, the emotions erupting — and, most importantly, the CONFLICT. Aegon throws the cup away, darts to Aemond, grabs him by his clothes (remember how desperately he held his face in EP9 of S1? the parallel would’ve been so beautiful !), finally screaming “Have you any idea what you’ve done? WHAT IT COST US?” — and now he isn’t talking about B&C but about Luke too. only, we’ve seen the extent of Aemond’s guilt and he isn’t about to show it now, taken aback by Aegon’s outburst, so instead of taking the blame, Aemond does what he knows best — he attacks him in return. they throw accusations at each other: Aemond reminds Aegon he was getting drunk, he himself didn’t do anything to be there for his family, he didn’t even do anything to deserve being on the throne. it’s nasty, it’s a shouting match, Aegon’s buddies eventually have to come in to pull them away from each other.

and it’s no surprise that Aegon goes back to drinking after that. and Aemond, overwhelmed and in disarray, goes back to the only place that can grant him comfort. so when Aegon finds him there and dares to humiliate him publicly and rob him of that illusion of comfort — that’s when something switches in Aemond. that’s when he decides he’s not a loyal dog anymore.

and that is, in my humble and very subjective opinion, how you properly bring someone’s temper to a boiling point. if only Ryan Condal ever cared, HA.