#except it is pretty much the only thing i think about

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 12) [note: trigger warning for a pretty rough spanking scene with a belt and minimal aftercare. if you need to, you can skip to the midway point (there's a line between the first half and second).]

first chapter >> last chapter

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He keeps your hands tied behind your back on the ride home.

All that does is confirm the fact that he must know. Graves must have tracked him down or perhaps he was approached by someone who did consider your sudden arrival in town suspicious. Why else would the sheriff chase you all the way into the mountains on horseback and then take you back with him? He would’ve within his rights to leave your thieving self to wander alone in the woods and succumb to the elements.

John doesn’t say a word the first hour of the ride back. You can feel the anger emanating from him though. He almost shakes with it. His anger somehow upsets you more than whatever is left to come. 

“Anytime you wanna start talkin’, I’m all ears,” John finally says, breaking the silence. 

You keep your lips pressed together, stubbornly silent. There’s no use giving yourself away before you’ve learned how much he knows. You haven’t built this life of yours with loose lips. 

“I don’t know what in the Sam Hill has gotten into you,” he continues, and his voice is cobblestone tread rough in the night. “Running off all by yourself. There ain’t nothing out in these parts except outlaws and highwaymen. There are men out here that’d love to get their hands on a woman like you—not even a knife to defend yourself with. You haven’t even got a scrap of food on you, never mind water. You’d’ve been dead in a week if the men out here hadn’t picked you off themselves.”

His words make your stomach ache. You know that there are worse things out there. A thousand gruesome ways to die. You’re less of a lady than John might think—you’ve heard stories. You’ve brushed close to that reality yourself. You wonder how he’d take it if you were to tell him about what had happened back east. 

Maybe running away this time hadn’t been your smartest idea, but it had been your only. You can’t fault yourself for the instinct to survive. 

“I know,” you mumble, dropping your chin to your chest. 

“You gonna explain to me why you stole my horse and ran off in the first place?” he asks. 

It’s the strangest interrogation you’ve ever heard of—sitting on the same horse with your back to the man questioning you and your hands tied together at the wrists. You wonder if you leaned back whether you’d feel his heart beating furiously in his chest. 

You remain mulishly silent though, reticent to answer the question.

“Maybe I’ve been spoiling you,” he continues, trying to rationalize it to himself. “After the fuss you put up those first few days, I thought a bit of structure and discipline would do you well, and it did. Giving you a bit of slack was my mistake.”

You frown at that. Those don’t sound like the words of a man with any knowledge of the circumstances leading to you running off. He might not even have come across Graves at all in the hours since the man made his appearance in the general store. Otherwise, you can’t imagine how he wouldn’t make the connection. 

Still, you can’t make yourself come right out and say it, even though every iota of your being aches to let the truth out. Call it nerves overpowering the need to be truthful and good. You vacillate between honesty and self-preservation, but each avenue feels like being dropped into a nest of vipers. 

But he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. If he knew, he wouldn’t question you like this. It’s a boon you can’t give up, not yet. Not when the thought of his inevitable righteous fury fills you with dread and self-loathing. 

“I don’t have to explain myself,” you spit out suddenly, and it’s not you saying those words but something ugly and sad in you. “You’re not my owner.”

“I damn sure am your husband though,” John growls, winding his free hand around your hair to tug you back into his chest. “And I know these parts far better than you, little miss. Beyond running off on me for no good reason when I thought we put your reticence behind us, you went and put yourself in danger the likes of which you couldn’t even fathom.”

“I’m not an idiot,” you snap. “I know what men are like.”

“You’re telling me you pulled that stunt knowing what kinda danger is out there in the woods?”

“I wasn’t thinking!”

“I know you weren’t,” John grunts. “That’s the issue.” 

The rest of the ride home is uncomfortably quiet. John keeps one hand clamped on your waist while the other holds the reins of both horses, the two walking alongside each other back down the trail towards the house. The ride home is a lot longer than the ride out into the woods since John refuses to let either of them go faster than a slow trot while your hands are tied behind your back. 

He snorts in derision at your suggestion to undo your binds. “That eager for your punishment?” 

That gets you to zip your lips. 

When you get drowsy, John tips your head back and makes you sip from his waterskin. His hand fits carefully around your throat to hold your head in place, his fingers curling around to just graze the nape of your neck. Your throat pulses under his palm when you swallow. It’s far too intimate for how restless you feel, damn near shaking out of your skin, but it briefly shushes the voice in your head until he pulls his hand away. 

A shadow under the doorway of the house startles you at first before it takes a step into the faint light of the setting sun and you recognize the bristly blond of Simon’s shorn head and the red bandana shrouding the bottom half of his face. The tension ebbs back into you when you realize with creeping humiliation that the black horse you rode home on must belong to him. 

He watches the two of you approach with predictable disinterest, his eyes betraying nothing. The shame is excruciating. 

John brings the horse to a halt some feet from Simon, not bothering to greet him. You wonder if it’s the anger choking him or if this is just routine, men trading favors in silence lest a word in gratitude break the spell. After dismounting himself, John helps you down, all but picking you up and lifting you off the horse. 

Simon doesn’t say a word to either of you when he takes the reins from John’s hands, giving him only a curt nod and you a cursory glance before leading his horse away to mount. He doesn’t spare you a backwards glance before taking off back towards town. You watch him over your shoulder while John guides you up the porch steps and into the house, until the shape of him disappears into the horizon. Then the door shuts behind you. 

Alone now, your attention turns back to John. He stares down at you consideringly, a hand planted on the door he just shut until he lets it fall to his side. You can see the gears turning in his mind, weighing something out. 

It wouldn’t be right to call it anticipation; it’s not quite dread either. 

“I don’t make idle threats, you know,” he says, apropos of nothing. 

His words make you frown until you glance down to find him undoing his belt. Your blood turns to ice. He tugs the thick strap until it comes sliding out of each loop around his waist. The buckle rests heavy in his palm, thick fingers curling around it, and when he bends the belt in two, you already know that he intends to follow through with his threat from earlier, the one you said you’d gut him for.

“I’ll scream,” you warn, heart in your throat. It almost chokes you. “I mean it. I’ll scream like the devil.”

“Don’t go makin’ no empty threats now, darlin’,” he says in a low voice, almost taunting. You can hear the hard edge in his voice though. It’s not something he craves, but he’ll take it. 

“You touch me with that thing and I’ll never forgive you.” 

John’s eyes go hard. “I’ll just have to take that chance.” 

And then he’s on you.

He hooks an arm around your waist when you try to rush past him back out the door and it forces the breath out of you. 

You struggle as best you can with your hands tied behind your back, trying to wriggle out of his hold even as he heaves you up into his arms and climbs the staircase towards the bedroom. The steps creak under the added weight of you in his arms. The screams come tearing from your throat, ripping your vocal cords and nearly sending you into a coughing fit. 

“Let—me—go—” you shriek, kicking out wildly, hoping to catch something that’ll make him lose his balance. 

“All that squirmin’ ain’t making me feel more merciful,” he growls. 

John kicks the bedroom door open with his foot when he reaches the top of the staircase. The room looks ominous without the oil lamp lit, the shadows growing in the corners swallowing up the end table. The bed is just as you made it this morning, the sheets pressed tight and neat, and you only get a second to take that in before he marches towards the bed and throws you down onto it.  

You hit the bed hard, bouncing slightly. He sits down heavily enough to jostle you and when you try to roll away on instinct, a hand catches you by the bicep and pulls you back. He hauls you across the bulk of his thighs this time, far different from your first meeting back in the sheriff’s office all those weeks ago. Your feet don’t even touch the floor this time around, dangling in the air and flailing for purchase. 

“You brute—you bastard!” you screech.

“I’m not gonna be as charitable this time,” John says, yanking your dress up and your drawers down until your bare bottom is exposed. You gasp at the cold air, murmuring something like please, please, please under your breath. “Even if I knew why it was you decided to run off, that doesn’t excuse the fact that you did. You coulda been hurt or worse out there, darlin’, and I’d never have forgiven myself. I’m gonna make sure the lesson sinks in this time.”

He folds the leather belt to hold it in one hand, leaving the other to pin you down over his thighs, making sure you don’t wriggle out. The leather is cool at first when he drags it over your butt. It makes your breathing pick up. It’s so gentle that you can almost trick yourself into thinking that it’s all he intends to do. 

The first lash comes so quick that you barely register it. The second knocks the wind out of you, and then the pain sets in. 

It stings something fierce. Where his palm hurt that first time he bent you over his desk and spanked you, the belt burns. It goes deep and it lingers when he pulls the leather away from your stinging bottom. 

“Hurts like the dickens, don’t it?” John asks, not bothering to wait for confirmation before bringing the belt down again. “You’re lucky it’s only ten this time.”

You howl into the bedsheets, eyes tearing up and spilling down your cheeks. When you try to cover your ass with your bound hands, John grabs them and pins them to the small of your back. 

“What’ll you never do again?” he growls. 

“I—I’ll—”

“Say it, darlin’: I’ll never run off on my own again.”

“I’ll—n-never gonna—oh, it hurts, John—please—”

At some point, you must say the words he’s looking for. You lose count of how many times his belt has struck across your ass. Like thunder coming after lightning, you feel it and then you hear it. The sharp snap comes as a second wave of agony in and of itself. 

Your throat is stripped raw by the time it’s over. The aftermath finds you with a puddle of drool under your cheek, hair matted to your face. Sweat slicks the backs of your thighs and down your spine. Even the gentlest brush of John’s hand over your backside, the belt deposited off the side of the bed, makes you flinch, the skin there tender to the touch. You’ll surely feel it deep in your bones come sunrise. 

Too exhausted for anger, all you can do is lie there. It sits heavy in your stomach though, a pit at the center of you. You want to say, who gave you the right? The answer burns a ring around your finger though. You want to say, you don’t understand, it had nothing to do with you. It has everything to do with him and you. 

You can tell he wants to say something. It gets choked in his throat, but you can hear it in the way his breath draws in, like he’s trying to coax it from his chest but it simply won’t come out. 

“Stay right there,” John rumbles instead, shifting you onto the bed to let you lie on your belly. 

You moan in pain when he moves you, sniffling into your arms. The crook of your elbow is sticky with your tears and snot. 

The bed dips under his weight when he comes back. You flinch violently when he draws the skirt of your dress up again and smooths his hand over the tender cheeks of your backside, spreading a cool salve over your skin. The first touch of his hand makes you hiss, tears beading in the corners of your eyes again, but then the cool sinks in, alleviating the ache. 

He does that for another few minutes in silence. Gentle, tentative touches, only stopping when the salve has been spread evenly over your bottom. He’s quiet when he shifts you up the bed until your feet are no longer dangling off the end. You’re distantly aware of him taking off your shoes and tucking you into bed, but the events of the day have finally gotten the better of you. It would be easier to push a boulder up a hill than crack even one of your eyelids open.

Time passes slowly; sluggishly. Your thoughts can’t quite catch up with it, either too quick or too slow. You’re stuck in thoughts of the desert, caught in a sandstorm that manifests too suddenly for you to take cover. All you can do is close your eyes and wait it out. 

Morning comes like a brutal summoning into the waking world. 

It hurts, but you expected that. Before your eyes even open, you’re aware of a throbbing pain coming from your backside. You wince when you shift to your side, squeezing your eyes tight. You contemplate rolling over and taking your chances with John’s temper. The thought isn’t as appealing in the light of day though. 

It takes some time to get out of bed and when you do, you have to step tentatively from floorboard to floorboard, the ache making it decidedly uncomfortable. You can’t imagine what sitting down will be like. Riding a horse is just out of the question. 

From the bedroom window, you see John standing in front of the house with Simon, back again not even twelve hours later. With the window closed, you can’t hear their conversation, nor can you read their lips. Their exchange doesn’t last long though. After another minute or so, and a nod goodbye, Simon walks back over to his horse standing nearby and lifts himself up and over onto the saddle, taking off towards town. 

When John turns back towards the house, you see him glance up towards the bedroom window where you stand. The circles beneath his eyes are dark, pronounced. On another day, you might’ve ducked out of sight or jumped away from the window, but now you hold his gaze. 

He breaks your stare first this time, heading back inside. It’s less satisfying than you thought it’d be. 

You spend the day resting in bed and avoiding John for the most part. He spends the majority of the day out of the house. You hear him downstairs in the kitchen around midday, fixing himself up something to eat, and you listen attentively to the scrape of the chair across the floor and the pan on the stovetop. Like the day he brought you home, he brings you up a tray only to leave it at the door, rapping the door with his knuckles to let you know before heading back downstairs. 

When he comes up for bed, you’re already lying down with your back to the door, the oil lamp left unlit. John doesn’t say anything to you as he changes into his nightwear. He smells fresh when he climbs into bed, like he bathed in the creek out in the woods. You breathe in deeply, trying to keep your breath quiet enough to not disturb the silence. The pillow under your head is saturated with his scent. You turn your nose into it when he lies down on his back instead of curling into you like he usually does. 

Your chest aches at that simple denial. There’s a wall between the two of you and you know where it came from. Any trust that you’d built lies in ruins now. 

Perhaps that’s not quite right though. It’s a romantic notion that you’ve been building something together all this time, but it doesn’t feel right now that you have the wherewithal to look back and reflect. All this time, whenever you’ve touched, you’ve held him steadfast and at an arm's length away, stopping two degrees short of intimacy. 

Deliberately effusive; and worse, you’ve called it affection. 

The tenderness in your heart is the worst of it. There’s a bruise there, and it’s been there awhile. It’s only grown with your recent troubles. You tell yourself every year that you’ll air it out come spring, but then the winter comes and it freezes over again.  

The pillow under your chest grows damp with your tears. 

Your dress the next morning is cornflower blue. The wheatfields are golden stalks swaying in the breeze. It’s a pleasanter day than how you feel. 

The ride into town is as painful as you thought it might be. You wince with every stride, your bottom still tender as a rose. John’s arm tightens around your waist when you squirm, like you might slide off the saddle and try to flee again, and you bite your lip to hold back the urge to snap. 

The little bit of independence you’d grown to enjoy is snatched away from you. You expected that as well, but that loss of privilege comes with a biting ache. You fight the urge to gnash your teeth and bark at him that you’re not a child when he grips you under the arm and leads you down the road. It wouldn’t do you any good. 

When John leaves you off at the general store, you’re surprised to find Kate back, hale and hearty. She looks up when the chime over the door jingles and raises her eyebrows in greeting. The sound makes you flinch, memories coming back unbidden. 

You look over your shoulder to say something to John before he leaves, but the door is already closing behind him by the time you turn around. Your lips are pursed on a word that dissolves in your mouth. It has a bitter aftertaste. 

“Thought you wouldn’t be back for a few more days,” you say instead, turning back to Kate. There’s already a chair pulled up for you by the wall and you make yourself comfortable there, grimacing at first when your sore backside touches the wood before settling in. 

She shrugs. “Plans changed. Gaz and I made it back late last night.”

You frown. “Gaz?”

“Kyle Garrick. Sorry—slip of the tongue. You’ve met him already. He used to go by Gaz way back when.”

“Way back when?”

“Not my story to tell. You should ask one of them, if you’re curious.”

You are, but not enough to ask. “Maybe.”

The two of you lapse into silence after that exchange. Before leaving the house, you remembered to bring with you some needles and wool to pass the time. They’re not as familiar in your hands as you’d like them to be, but you suppose, barring the possibility of Graves or another bounty hunter showing up in town to cart you off, you’ll have time to learn. 

The thought leaves you anxious. It feels distinctly more possible now. 

“You met Miles while I was away?” Kate asks, out of the blue.

Your head comes up at her question. “Miles?”

“He was minding the store for me while I was away. Said you came in the other day.”

You swallow reflexively. “Oh. Yes, I suppose I did meet him. I didn’t stay long, since you were gone and all.”

She hums and looks back down at the book in front of her. You feel nervous all of a sudden. 

“He said you were very helpful,” she says abruptly, breaking the silence. You flinch. “Told me some gentleman came by with a warrant for a murder back east and you were kind enough to take it to your husband for him so he could keep minding the shop.”

Your throat constricts. She pins you under her gaze, unblinking eyes staring into yours but not looking for anything. Wispy blonde bangs brush along her forehead when she tilts her head ever so slightly. 

You nod instead of answering. 

“Did you give it to him?” she asks.

“I didn’t have a chance to. The day got away from me,” you say tersely. 

“I heard something about that. Kyle said John had to borrow Simon’s horse the other day. Said something about him taking off in a hurry.”

Again, you don’t answer. It feels like without knowing it, you’ve crossed over a threshold. 

“Do you still have it?” Kate prompts when again you don’t respond. You don’t tell her that you don’t because in all the fuss the other day, it must have slipped out of your pocket and drifted off into the wind. “The warrant?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. 

“That’s alright. I have a good enough idea about what it might’ve said.” 

Sweat beads on your upper lip. She all but says it outloud. You’re as still as a ferrotype under her gaze, imprinted in place, unable to move so much as a muscle or force a word past your stiff lips. 

“You’re under no obligation to tell me or anyone,” Kate says, and her voice is suddenly gentle, softer than you’ve ever heard it before. “I’m sure you had your reasons. I won’t be telling John, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh. Thank you,” you breathe, throat so tight that the words almost don’t come out. 

It’s the closest you’ve come to admitting to it, tangentially or not, and even now it’s spoken only out of the corner of your mouth. You don’t think you have it in you to recite the events sequentially. Even in the privacy of your memory, it comes piecemeal, in fragmented images that flicker across your mind because maybe to remember it whole would be too much. 

You don’t say much more after that, and neither does Kate. That wasn’t the point of bringing it up, you think. You'd know if it was. 

When John comes to fetch you at the end of the day, you leave without saying goodbye to Kate. Only a stiff smile before heading out on your way. If she returns your smile, you don’t notice it. To John, you simply duck your head and follow him out the door, letting him help you up onto the horse without a word. 

If it bothers him that you refuse to speak to him, he doesn’t show it. 

It’s so many steps back that you might as well be back where you started. Maybe even further back, a voyage gone so wrong that when you look over your shoulder, you can’t make heads or tails of where you came from. The trees from the other side of the trail never look quite the same. 

If you could open your mouth and say it, you would. If you knew he’d listen. But you don’t think John is that kind of man. Against the gold of the setting sun, he cuts a figure from times of yore. He speaks plain while you tend to speak in fricatives and bilabial stops, incapable of enunciating the words. 

You feel like a wound on the world. Getting it wrong again and again. 

It’s an old pain, one that started back when you were too small to hold it all. Now, you’ve grown large enough to hold it, though it holds you back in turn. You remember your parents studiously ignoring first creation like some noxious cloud billowing from the chimney. There’d been too many children for them to care about the runt. Shipped off to your aunt’s and uncle’s just for the cycle to repeat itself. 

It’s an old grief, this one, friendly because it nudges at your hips when you brush by, striking in the blue-green. And when it burns, it burns.

“John, I—” you say when he helps you down back at the house. 

He stares down at you, waiting you out. Your mouth goes dry, the truth beyond your grasp again. Your heart aches when his brows furrow and the lines around his eyes crease again, frustration welling beneath the surface. 

You understand. It sits under your skin too. 

"Go inside," he says instead when you don't go on. "I'll bring in the horses and start supper."

Your God sits at the edge of the bed, wholly lacking praise. It’s not His fault that it’s been awhile. These days, you can hardly muster up the energy to say hello. You gargle saltwater before you bathe and scrub your skin free of blood, waiting for the next morning to come.

And you think, lying on your side while John sleeps on the other side of the bed, wouldn’t it be lovely to get it right now, rather than in retrospect?

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

BBYG PART TWO OF GUILTY AS SIN PLEASE I LUV UR WORKSSSS

i hope you guys enjoy this!! i had a lot of fun with it. it’s technically part two but i gave it a different title sorry :)

~~~

Fresh Out The Slammer

James Potter x f!reader

warnings: smut, protected p in v, fingering, slight oral (f receiving), very slight underage alcohol but barely, morally idk how good this is, lmk if i missed any

summary: after you and Remus finally split, you and James finally come together…

word count: 2.8k

a/n: another taylor fanfic hahaha (i love this) lmk what you guys think of the end i thought it was really clever but maybe that’s just me being overconfident…

~~~

I did my time

Now pretty baby I’m running back home to you

Fresh out the slammer

I know who my first call will be to...

~~~

When you look back on your days at Hogwarts, you always wonder why you and Remus stayed together so long.

It was a week after your monumental conversation with James on the grass that your overdue breakup occurred. You had tried your hardest to give your relationship one last try, you really did. But one night as you laid next to the tall lanky boy, all you could think about was a certain pair of hazel eyes. A pair that didn’t belong to the boy next to you.

That was the final straw.

“Rem,” you said, your voice cool. “I think it’s best we break up.”

You kept your eyes on the canopy above, but you could feel him shift beside you. ���Really?”

“Yes. In fact, I think this is overdue. Don’t you think?”

“I suppose so...” he replied.

You turned to look at him. Unsurprisingly, he was sitting calmly as could be with a book in one of his hands. A sigh escaped your lips, but you didn’t say anything else. Instead, you simply stood and began to dress yourself. He was the one to speak again.

“Would it be all right if we remained friends?” He asked his eyes on you for what felt like the first time in a while.

“Of course. Let’s not make it odd for everyone else,” you answered.

He looked back down at his book. “Right. Good night then.”

On the walk back to your dorm you named every reason in your head why you broke up with Remus. He was distant. He didn’t know how to treat you like a true girlfriend. The spark had died between the two of you. The relationship had truly just run its course. But as you stepped into the common room your eyes found the most significant reason.

You refused to put him on your mental list.

~~~

You didn’t know if it was out of respect for Remus or if it was intentional at all, but James waited a few weeks before making any sort of move on you. You were glad. Adjusting to a single life was strange. You no longer spent time alone with Remus, you no longer cried or had fits because of his behavior. He was simply another one of your friends. You liked him better that way.

When James did give you a sign, it was far from subtle.

It came during Charms in the form of a small piece of paper. Of course, Charms happened to be the only class the two of you had together that Remus was not in as well. In fact, the only other member of your friend group who was in the class was Peter and he never paid much attention to anything. So, when you felt the piece of paper hit your lap, you didn’t hesitate to open it.

How’s the single life treating you so far? -J

You turned your head to look at James, a smile on your lips. He was already looking at you, a similar smile on his face. You felt your cheeks heat up as you scribbled your reply and threw it back to him.

It’s better than I expected, most things are the same.

He was quick to throw it back.

That’s true except now you’re free to do whatever you’d like..

You held in a breath.

More like whomever I’d like

You let out a shaky breath at his reply.

Yeah? Well, you know where my bed is

For a few seconds, you stared at the note, not sure if you should write anything more. You turned back to look at him and your eyes instantly met his. He looked at you with a gleam that you hadn’t seen in a boy's eyes in a long time, at least not one directed toward you. So, you picked up your quill and wrote back, not a single guilty thought crossing your mind.

I suppose I’m going to know what it feels like soon too

~~~

Another long week passed before anything happened between you and him. And each day that passed only filled you with more desire. You felt almost giddy at the thoughts. A secret hookup with James Potter. It was something you’d imagined for a long time, but for so many reasons you never imagined it would actually be brought to life.

But it was.

One night, there was a party in the Ravenclaw common room that everyone was attending. Everyone except you. Or so you thought.

“Are you sure y/n/n? It’ll be so much fun,” Lily questioned. You were all in the Gryffindor common room. Everyone else was getting ready to leave, but you sat on the couch in your bedclothes.

“Yeah, I’m not really in the party mood tonight. Plus, I have some work that still needs to be done,” you answered honestly.

“Boring!” Sirius exclaimed. “Don’t worry lovely I’ll make sure to save some alcohol for you.”

“Thanks, Sirius,” you said with a laugh.

“Let’s go, Wormtail, Moony, Prongs.”

“Actually, you lot can go without me. I’m not feeling the greatest.”

Your eyes shot to James. What was he doing? You noticed what he was wearing. A wifebeater and flannel pants. You swore you never wanted to shag him more than at that moment.

“Are you serious?” Sirius groaned. “Whatever mate you’re no fun. We’ll be back later.”

“All right, have fun,” James replied.

“Bye, y/n/n!” The girls sang as they left.

You waved them all goodbye before getting up and turning to the staircase. You could feel James’s eyes burning into you from behind.

“Seems it’s just the two of us for once,” he said, his voice quieter than before.

Your stomach filled with butterflies. “Yeah, it seems that way.”

“I was wondering if you could help me with some Charms work, I know you have the homework as well perhaps we can do it together...” From the tone of his voice, you knew it wasn’t true. But still, you turned and gave him a slight nod. “It’s all in my dorm, let’s just go up there to do it.”

Deep down, you knew you should’ve felt bad. James was your ex-boyfriend’s best friend. If any of them knew about your sinful thoughts, you’d surely be thrown out of the group and shunned. However, while that knowledge made you feel uneasy, it didn’t stop you from following him up to the dorm.

The second the door closed behind the two of you, James’s lips were on yours. Though it came as a surprise, you didn’t hesitate for even a second to kiss him back. His lips were warm and soft, just how you had always imagined. It was messy and quick and when he broke it you found yourself breathless. All you could do was stare at him, your cheeks pink.

“James I-”

“We can take our time if you’d like, I’m sorry I’ve just wanted to do that for so fucking long,” he replied as if he could read your mind.

“Me too, you don’t understand.” You inhaled deeply and took a few steps deeper into the dorm you were all too familiar with. Only this time, you sat on a different bed. “This doesn’t feel real.”

He sat down next to you on his bed, his glowing hazel eyes locked on yours. “Believe me, I understand everything.”

“I just... want you,” you mumbled. It felt so good to finally say it. You placed one of your hands on his thigh. “I want you a lot.”

He smiled in a way that practically sent shivers down your spine. “I want you too.”

“So, take me. You don’t... you don’t have to be gentle,” you whispered with a confidence you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Instead of answering you with words, James leaned closer and caught your lips in another kiss. This time though, it wasn’t messy and rushed. No. It was passionate, it was a kiss that would leave you giggling on your bed when you looked back on it. As your lips moved against his you followed his lead and laid back on the mattress with your legs parted for him to slip in between.

His hands were far bigger than yours. When he slid one of them up your thigh you almost couldn’t remember how to breathe. You kissed him harder and weaved your fingers through his soft curly hair. He toyed with your shorts for a moment before carefully slipping his hand beneath the fabric. It would be an understatement to say you were wet. You were soaked. And you could feel James’s smirk on your mouth when he discovered this.

“Are you always like this?” He mumbled.

You shook your head. “Only when it comes to you.”

“Good.”

He wasted no more time and moved his fingers under your knickers, finding your clit almost instantly. You gasped, one of your hands gripped his strong shoulder tightly, and your eyes squeezed shut.

“James,” you moaned.

He began to trail wet kisses down your neck as he continued to rub soft circles on your clit. Never mind thinking straight, you couldn’t think at all. Your stomach was warm, and waves of pleasure coursed throughout your entire body. You swore you’d never felt anything as good in your life. But when your hand brushed against his shirt you sighed.

“Take it off, take everything off. Please,” you whispered frantically.

You opened your eyes to see James’s bright smile. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Without another word, he leaned back and pulled his shirt off. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring. His muscles were toned, yet he was still skinny. You wanted to kiss every inch of his body, but you settled on dragging your fingers up and down his chest for a few seconds.

“Your turn,” he said.

You silently sat up and lifted your tank top over your head and threw it down to the floor. Perhaps it was the amount of lust that consumed you, or perhaps it was the amount of comfort you felt with James. Either way, you didn’t cower or feel insecure as his eyes moved across your naked breasts. In fact, you felt confident. So, you laid back down on his bed and began to pull your shorts and knickers down, your eyes not leaving his.

Only when you were fully naked did you feel a slight feeling of insecurity. James must’ve noticed this though because he leaned over you and pressed a sincere kiss to your lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. He brushed a hand over one of your breasts. “So perfect.”

“Fuck me, James, please I can’t bear it any longer,” you replied quickly. It was true, you’d already waited so many months in silence. How were you expected to wait even a second longer?

“I think you can afford to bear it for a few more minutes. I want to have my way with you first.”

You were going to protest, but before you could he slid his hand between your thighs. He swirled his fingers over you, collecting your wetness before eventually carefully moving one of his fingers inside of you. You threw your head back and gripped his sheets hard. It was an even better feeling than you’d imagined. He kissed you hungrily as he slowly started finger fucking you.

As if that wasn’t enough, he kissed down your body minutes later before ending with his face between your thighs. You couldn’t contain your whimpers and moans. If anyone was near the Gryffindor boy's dorm, they’d surely hear you. The fact neither of you thought enough to cast a silencing charm only made it more thrilling.

By the time you reached your first orgasm, you were quite sure you’d never felt anything nearly as good in your life. Remus never cared enough to spend his time pleasuring you, at least not after the first few months. But James cared a whole lot. He touched you with his tongue and his fingers till you were shaking and panting for a break.

When he did stop you watched through heavy lids as he wiped his mouth on your thigh and began to pull down his last remaining articles of clothing. His eyes were glowing, and his glasses were almost falling off his face. You decided then that he was by far the most attractive boy you’d ever seen. And when your eyes trailed down his naked body you found yourself an even bigger reason as to why that statement was true.

“Are you on the potion?” He asked as he began to move over you.

“Yeah,” you answered, your voice weak.

He smirked. “You’re a dirty girl hm?”

“For you yes.”

“How so?”

You smiled sweetly and reached up to remove James’s glasses. “Truthfully? Sometimes I touch myself when I think of you.”

“You’ll have to show me next time.” He shifted and you felt his tip brush against your entrance. Your breath caught in your throat. “Is this what you think about?”

“S-Sometimes yes,” you said with a shaky voice.

All you could do as he slowly began to thrust into you was gasp and wrap your arms around him, your nails digging into his skin. He was big and you were still sensitive from how hard you previously came. Those factors only amplified how good he felt. Once he was fully in, he leaned down to connect your lips in another heated kiss before truly starting the shag.

Though Remus would fuck you hard, he never fucked you the way James did. James went hard, he went fast, but he also showed he still cared. At one point, he removed one of your hands from his back and pressed it against the mattress, lacing his fingers through yours. And his lips were either on yours, on your neck, or whispering sweet praises. Even the way he said your name was enough to tell you how much he cared about you.

You didn’t know how long it went on, but it was long enough that he started to grow tired. At that point, you’d already reached your second orgasm, so you decided he deserved a break. With all your strength, you flipped your positions and took some control. You lowered yourself onto him and nearly came a third time from the sounds he made.

When everything was done and over, the two of you laid next to each other out of breath and shocked at what had transpired. You felt your heart pound in your chest and a sticky feeling between your thighs. You turned your head to look at the boy next to you. He, of course, was already looking at you, his glasses back on.

“That was...”

“Better than any of my fantasies,” you told him.

“Mine too,” he agreed with a smile.

You bit down on your lip. “So now what?”

“Perhaps another go?”

That was an offer you could never refuse.

~~~

Hours later, past midnight at least, the door to the boy's dorm opened and the other three Marauders stumbled in. Sirius was far too drunk; he could barely stand up straight. That left Remus and Peter to stand on either side of him with their arms wrapped around his back protectively. All their eyes found you and James after a few seconds. The two of you sat on his bed, a foot of papers between the two of you.

“Oh, hello y/n,” Peter greeted you.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” Remus questioned.

Sirius only gasped overdramatically. “They’re shagging! Prongsie and Lovely are shagging!”

You rolled your eyes and stood up. “Why don’t we get you to bed?”

“Can I have a go first? Before bed? Please! Is that all right Moony?” Sirius stumbled over his words as his friends dropped him into his bed.

“Nobody’s having a go unless it is Moony,” James said.

Remus turned toward you, a questioning expression on his face. “What are you doing up here?”

You pointed at the many papers on James’s bed. “Charms homework, I told you lot that’s why I wasn’t going to the party. James felt a bit better, so we just decided to work on it together.”

“Will I be allowed to use that work?” Peter asked innocently.

“Of course, Pete,” you replied. You turned back to James’s bed where he still sat, and you began to gather your work. “I should be going then.”

You held your papers close to your chest and tried your hardest not to look at James. You knew if you did, something on your face would clearly show what had really gone on. So, you kept your head down and moved as fast as you could to their door.

“Same time next week then?” James’s voice caught your attention as you were about to leave.

You looked over your shoulder and nodded, trying your hardest not to blush. “Or sooner, I’m very eager to get this work done.”

“All right, sooner, goodnight then,” James replied with a knowing look.

The last thing you heard before leaving was the innocent voice of Peter asking if he could join in and the loud laugh that James let out.

[moviecritc]

ohhh i may have an idea for your polyamorous thing, what about the reader trying to soft launch her relationship with carlando but people keep thinking they’re just a group of very close friends or they think that she is only dating one of them and the other is just their friend so she gets tired of people not taking the hint and just ends up hard launching? maybe at a grand prix weekend?

captions ⋆ carlando smau

pairing: carlando x reader

summary: carlos, lando and you had been dating and soft launching each other for almost two years, and carlos just got bored of people thinking you're just friends.

warnings: some suggestive comments

a/n: not the biggest fan of lando EXCEPT when carlos is around so i loved doing this so much. also, it's my first smau, pls tell me what you guys think about it <3

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

yourusername just posted

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yourusername spent a few days watching this two drive in circles very fast (+ kiki)

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user1 NEW CARLANDO PHOTO JUST POSTED

user2 thank u y/n for feeding us with all this carlando content

landonorris dry ass caption

yourusername at least i post you you dumbass user1 never beating couple allegations user3 carlos must be so tired of third wheeling them

user4 THAT IS THE CUTEST DOG I'VE EVER SEEN

francisca.cgomes i'll never forgive you for naming your dog almost like me

yourusername it's my love language ok landonorris you could've named it lando or smth yourusername i'll change her name to nowins 💋 landonorris wait wat

carlossainz55 👑

landonorris ok i'll correct myself THIS is dry carlossainz55 you muppet yourusername at least he comments good things ?? user5 their friendship is top tier

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user1 here before y/n

user2 NOT LANDO SOFT LAUNCHING CARLOS

user3 i'm dying

user4 i don't wanna start something but that aren't lando's arms in the third picture

user5 it scares me that you can recognize lando's arms... user6 girl go touch some grass

yourusername and i'm the one getting called dry

landonorris i didn't want you to feel bad bout you're boring caption 💛

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yourusername you guys could've win at least

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landonorris isn't a podium not enough for you?

yourusername no landonorris yeah idc what you think yourusername THEN WHY U ASK i'm changing to red bull they'll give me more emotional stability maxverstappen1 please stay there i don't want to have lando in the garage looking for you

user1 cute cute cute friendship

user2 call me crazy but...

user3 but WHAT GIRL? user2 lando soft launching carlos and posting the picture of y/n with another boy (definitely carlos), and them posting each other anytime they can user4 girl they're just friends user5 yeah they've been knowing each other for a long time, they're just very close

carlossainz55 our biggest supporter 💛💛

yourusername always 💛 user2 OUR biggest supporter? them using the same heart lando used in a previous post? user6 paranoid

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carlossainz55 💛💛💛

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user1 WAIT OMFG

user2 CARLOS HARD LAUNCHING LANDO AND Y/N I TOLD U GUYS

user3 they're all dating?

user4 isn't that obvious

yourusername cute dog

carlossainz55 Hermosa we talked about calling Lando our dog landonorris she meant kiki you muppet yourusername no i actually meant you baby

user4 y/n won the game with this two

user5 now i know how true jealousy feels like

yourusername my pretty boyss 💛

carlossainz55 🥰🥰

landonorris dream rides 🤩

yourusername lan- carlossainz55 I'm going to ban Lando from this app user3 LANDO LMAOOOO

user6 CARLOS AND KIKI ARE THE CUTEST AHGDJKJHFSA

charlesleclerc so happy for you guys

user7 charles approves

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carlossainz55 First

landonorris he's so obsessed carlossainz55 Yeah

landonorris now THAT is a good caption

francisca.cgomes ok cutiess

danielricciardo Y/N blink twice if you need help

landonorris shut the fuck up she's totally fine with us yourusername save me pls

user2 does she even have a job?

landonorris serving cunt? carlossainz55 Being the most beautiful woman in the world? yourusername i'm a publicist but yeah mostly what they said user3 you're so iconic for this

[melrosing]

the thing that annoys me the most about the bullying claim among the stark sisters is that they talk about how much it affects Arya that she thinks she’s ugly and such and like she does, but she’s so much more worried about being “bad” she killed a boy. She’s also going through poverty and war and starving and being introduced to cults/bands of “justice” by murder

but nooooo she totally is more affected by being called horse face despite being compared to SOOOOOO MANY PRETTY PEOPLE AND THAT MEANS SHES GOOD (never mind that good looking=good person should NOT BE YOUR BASIS)

I think most people, and especially girls, know exactly how it feels to worry about your appearance and feel ugly and unattractive, and I get that this is a particular pain for Arya, who apparently has never been called pretty except by her dad one time in AGOT, in an offhanded comparison to her aunt Lyanna. I don't think attractiveness is the most important thing to validate in any child, but I do think that it is good and nice to affirm to your child that they have their own beauty, so that they can then negotiate their relationship with that word from a safer place in adulthood.

It's not about telling your child they don't look a certain way (e.g. no good telling Brienne she's a normal height and her nose is hardly crooked at all), but that the way they look is something unique to them and something they should take pride in, regardless of what others say. Like I think it's an OOC moment in the show, but I think it's sweet when Olenna tells Brienne she looks 'marvellous' or something. She's not saying 'you look like bella hadid', she's saying 'I love the way you look!' to a woman who has received nothing but insults (despite looking like fuckin. Gwendoline Christie lmao). that is nice. it's not the most important compliment anyone can receive, but it embraces divergence as positive.

as it goes though, Arya is a pretty girl and it's just weird that the adults found countless compliments for Sansa and none for Arya. and that's why I find it so bizarre that everyone wants to pin Arya's self-esteem issues on Sansa, a prepubescent child!! like, would Arya have taken these insults so hard if Cat had stepped in and said 'don't listen, you're a lovely girl and your father says you look just like your aunt Lyanna! sansa i am telling you off for calling people names'. children are always going to call each other mean names! it is one thing that is practically guaranteed to happen in any sibling relationship, and anyone who says otherwise is an only child or lying.

but it is much harder for a child to manage that hurt if they're getting called those names, and society seems to be reifying to truth of them at every turn! Septa Mordane is calling her ugly! Cat is calling her a mess! Ned has never complimented her till AGOT! etc! she has never received a compliment before! so how on earth can you say 'and Arya's self-esteem issues can all be traced back to the playground bickering between she and Sansa and Jeyne' when Arya is obviously getting the same message from what seem like far more authoritative sources! is it not worse that those sources are all complimenting Sansa all the time and never Arya? does that not make it worse when Sansa acts like a child about it? like!!

and yeah I agree that there are other more painful insecurities Arya is struggling with. I do think at least part of the reason that this argument keeps coming up in fandom is that people keep trying to claim that Arya's story is similar to Brienne's, in that she IS ugly according to society's standards and that's ok! which isn't true, Arya is canonically a pretty kid with a dirty face and unbrushed hair. that's all it is. so if we could just accept that, there'd be no excuse for the insistence that this is an important aspect of Arya's story.

because it isn't. like im sorry but the ugly duckling means nothing when there are plenty of people who don't grow up to be swans. they get called ugly as children, and they get called ugly as adults. look at Brienne: she has suffered far, far worse prejudice as a result of her appearance in childhood, and she doesn't get the catharsis of growing up pretty to show them all how wrong they were. Brienne has been treated like a fucking monster for how she looks, all of her life. this is a character for whom her appearance IS actually an important theme, and it will be meaningful to see her realise it's a strength, and find love etc. I'm sorry but Arya growing up to be beautiful doesn't mean shit to me lol. I fully accept it's canon, but it is not a meaningful story beat, in a story with people like Tyrion, Brienne and Sam. Arya's story has so many more fascinating themes about identity, trauma, justice, war, friendship and family. if Arya was pretty all along, why should I care?

[five-rivers]

Cracked Clay Cup Chapter 15

@greatbigolhampuckjustforme

.

“Only one left,” said Danny, uneasily.  Working by the process of elimination…  If any of the people on this list were his actual, biological parents, as Frostbite had feared, then it was these two.  

Jazz, obviously, wasn’t his mother.  He’d known that from basically the moment they’d met.  Vlad, Frostbite, and Pandora had confirmed that fact, and their stories had matched too well with each other for them to be lying.  Unless, of course, the whole trial was a lie and they were all working together, and Danny was hesitant to go down that path.  

The Observants, too, could be crossed off with ease.  The Observants were public and impersonal enough that Danny had remembered them despite his amnesia.  He’d never heard of them having children.  And their behavior during his trial… well.  Maybe they’d behave that way around their actual children, but Danny doubted it.  

Vlad hadn’t even claimed to be his father.  Of course, he’d also heavily implied that Danny’s biological parents were dead.  So there was that.  He was also a liar.  So there was that.  But, again, Danny didn’t think Vlad was his actual parent.  The Dairy King would have told him if he was.  

Frostbite and Pandora had also denied any blood relationship with him, although they still both wanted him to pick them.  Pandora did, at least.  Frostbite had seemed more lukewarm about it.  Maybe even cool, to use a pun.  Not that Frostbite disliked Danny.  He was participating in this to help Danny.  Just… Yeah.  

Then there was the trio, which, um.  Yeah.  Definitely not.  

So.  If his parents were actually involved, and not dead, then they had to be these two.  Unless Pandora or Frostbite or Vlad was lying about not being his parent, which he didn’t think any of them would do, because that would be counterproductive.  Wouldn’t it?

Double-think made his head hurt.  

“Yes,” said Clockwork.  “Only Jack and Maddie Fenton are left.  Then, when you have seen them, you must make your decision.”

“And I can choose anyone?”

“Yes.  You may choose anyone you wish to choose.”

“Hm,” said Danny.  He spread himself out over the couch and dropped the file folder on the coffee table.  “Anyone, anyone?”

“That is the policy, to ensure that children are placed appropriately.”

“So, like, if I decided I wanted to go with the Dairy King but not Vlad…?”

“That is a possibility,” said Clockwork.  “As in, you could choose for Dairy King alone to have custody of you, with the understanding that Vlad would likely still be a significant part of his social circle and afterlife.”

“Huh,” said Danny.  “What if I picked, like, Ember?”

“You could do that.”

“But you wouldn’t recommend it, huh?”

“My recommendation is immaterial,” said Clockwork.  “I am a neutral party.”

“Yeah, but I can still ask you questions.  What if I want your opinion?”

“I am not allowed to give it.”

“Right,” said Danny.  He looked over the file.  “You know, they have, like, the least stuff on their little cheat sheet out of anyone.  Except the Observants.  Theirs was really… lackluster.”

“Indeed?” said Clockwork, with just the faintest inflection at the end to turn it into a question instead of an agreement.

“Mhm.”  Jack and Maddie, no listed last name, didn’t have much written on their page of the file.  Apparently they liked making cookies, stargazing, needlepoint, sewing, and… that was it.  Nothing about jobs, titles, other interests, other things they enjoyed.  Nothing.

The stargazing was a good point, though.  Danny was pretty sure he liked stargazing.  If only he’d had a chance to do it…  Ugh.  Being stuck inside was getting more and more annoying.  

Distressing.  

Almost as distressing as Frostbite thinking that Danny’s biological parents were abusive.  

“You said before, everyone is, like, vetted?  So they won’t be… dangerous?”

“That is correct.”

“But the Observants still were allowed to do whatever it was they were trying to do.”

“Unfortunately, persons who possess authority will on occasion use that authority to put themselves in even more positions of authority.”

“Except you can’t tell me any of your opinions.”

“Correct,” said Clockwork.  

“You’re funny.”

“Not many would say that.”

“That’s because you’re really– really oblique about it.”

“Perhaps.”

Danny sighed.  “I should just go right away, shouldn’t I?  I should stop agonizing about this.”

“It is up to you, Daniel.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

Danny made no move to get off the couch.  “What are you doing over there, anyway?”

Clockwork twisted his hands around to show Danny a net of white string.  “I’ve taken up lacemaking.”

“Ugh, see, I’ve been wasting so much of your time that you’ve picked up a new hobby.  That’s crazy.”

“I wouldn’t say that it’s new,” said Clockwork.  “Lace has been around for a long time.”

“New to you, then.  Like, your original hobby is making clocks, right?”

“I also enjoy candlemaking and gardening.  But this,” Clockwork held up the lace, “was always within my plans.”

“Uh huh,” said Danny.  

“It is almost time for lunch.  You could stay until then.”

“See?  I’ve wasted the whole morning.  I came back last night.  And that was a day trip.”  He sighed.  “What would lunch be?”

“I was planning on fried rice, using the remaining rice from last night.”

“I thought you’d made a lot of rice that time,” said Danny.  “Yeah, let’s do that.”

.

Jack and Maddie’s house was… Well, it looked like it had been a normal house.  The entryway was done up with plain tile, and opened up into a high-ceilinged living room.  Danny could see a set of stairs leading up one side of the living room to the second floor, where there were a number of doors.  On the ground floor, there was an open doorway leading into a kitchen.  

That was all fine.  However, the walls, ceiling, and floors all looked like they’d been torn apart and put together again.  Sometimes with proper tools like plaster and drywall, and sometimes with cardboard and duct tape.  There were dark squares and ovals where picture frames may have hung.  He could see an electrical outlet that had been pulled out of the wall and hastily put back in, without all the wires fitting.  Near his elbow were the remains of what looked like a doorbell.  Bits of insulation hung out of gaps between the original walls and the repairs.  

It wasn’t quite as strange or as messy overall as Ember, Skulker, and Technus’s place, but the contrast was… weird.  Everyone else was obviously trying to put their best foot forward and had cleaned up or acquired a whole new house.  This… this was not that.  

At least, he hoped it wasn’t.  Because if this was their best, then what was their usual?

He turned his attention to the two humans who had been waiting for him to arrive.  They were human.  The man was tall and broad, with dark hair.  He was wearing overalls over an orange button up.  His sleeves were rolled up, and he was scratching at a rash on his arm.  The woman was slim and much shorter, her auburn hair cut in a chin-length bob.  She had a pale blue blouse on, and dark jeans.  

He caught their eyes, one after another.  

“Hi,” said the woman, in a wavering voice.  “Welcome home, Danny.”

“Um,” said Danny, “hi.  Are you Maddie?  The file didn’t really say which one of you was which… or really anything about yourselves…?”

“Yes,” said Maddie, with a painful smile.  She looked like she was about to cry.  “I’m Maddie, this is Jack.  We’re so happy to have you here.  So happy.”  She took his hands in hers and squeezed them.  

“Okay?”  He looked around.  “So…  You’re remodeling?”

“Yes,” said Maddie.  “We’re sorry about that, but all of this came as such a surprise.”

“A big surprise, son,” said Jack.  His voice sounded rough, like he’d been crying.  “All of the important things are done, though!  Everything’s safe!  Just not very pretty, that’s all.  Just looks different.”

“Like you,” said Maddie, quickly.  “Not that that’s a bad thing, is it?  We’re very–  The ears and the tail– Those are new but not bad.  This is just like that.”

Danny nodded, hesitantly.  “Right.  That’s cool.  So, um.”  He looked around the entryway again.  “Show me around?”

“Right, right,” said Maddie.  “Of course.”

“Sorry about that!” said Jack.  “It’s just that you grew up here and all.  You don’t remember that, but it’s hard for us to remember it.  To remember that you, er, don’t remember.”  Jack patted Danny’s shoulder gingerly.

“Yes,” said Maddie.  “We’ll– We’ll do the main floor first, then the bedrooms upstairs.”

The tour of the ground floor went much as expected.  He saw the living room, a number of closets (which looked like they’d been ransacked), the garage (suspiciously empty), a bathroom (strangely untouched), a dining room (dusty), and the kitchen.  

His initial impression of the kitchen matched his impression of the house in general.  Normal, but hastily altered.  There was a long strip of torn-up wall near the refrigerator.  The microwave was brand new to the point that the box it came in was still sitting next to it.  There was a door-sized patch of new wall that matched up with scratches on the floor that strongly suggested the patch had been a door up until fairly recently.  

This… this was suspicious.  Should he ask about it?  Play dumb?

“Now, up to the rooms!” said Jack, sweeping Danny out of the kitchen.  

“Usually,” said Maddie, “your sister Jazz would be here, but right now she’s away, so it’s just the three of us.”

“Why?”

“Why what, Danno?” asked Jack.  

“Why is she away?”

“College,” said Maddie, quickly.  “She’s a couple years older than you are, so she’s away at college.  The two of you were very close, though.”

“Best friends!” shouted Jack from his position at the top of the stairs.

Well, there was that confirmation.  Jazz was definitely his sister.  

… Jazz actually looked a lot like Maddie, so that was also a point in favor of Maddie and Jack being his actual parents.  Which, uh.  Did being shady run in the family?  Did he come off like this to other people?  He hoped not.  

“Which one was her room?” asked Danny.  

“This one,” said Jack.  Then he pointed towards a room two doors down.  “And this is yours!  You two shared the bathroom, but she’s not here, so it’s all yours, too!”

“Cool,” said Danny.  He slipped past Jack to the door and opened it.  

The walls and ceiling of the room were a pale blue gray, glow in the dark stars just barely visible in contrast.  Posters for bands and spaceships were taped to the wall, some of them in better repair than others.  There was a dresser with a drawer sticking part way out, the sleeve of a shirt stopping it from fully closing.  Model rockets, most of them clumsily made, sat on shelves beside other knick-knacks.  A corkboard on the wall had schoolwork, ribbons, and a few crumpled tickets to movies and concerts pinned on it.  A scooter and telescope were propped up in one corner.  

“They had us take down your photographs,” said Maddie.  “But we left everything else the way it was.  Except for cleaning.”

“Something about being biased!  As if knowing things is going to make you biased!  Maybe if we’d known–”

“Jack, honey,” said Maddie.  “Not the time.”

“Oh, right, sorry, son.”

Danny nodded, then stepped in to walk a circuit of the room.  This room, more than any of the others he had stayed in, felt lived in.  Like it was a home.  

But he couldn’t forget Frostbite’s warning.  Or the chaos downstairs.  

“So, um,” said Danny, before he could wimp out.  He held the pocketwatch in one hand.  Just in case.  “In the kitchen, you have a door covered up.  What’s with that?”

“Uh, nothing,” said Jack.  

“Just an unfinished basement,” said Maddie, her smile going brittle and fake.  “That’s all.  It wasn’t– It wasn’t safe down there.  For children.  It wasn’t built right.  So we decided to just cover it up.  To show that we’re prepared to keep you safe.”

There was a mad science lab down there, wasn’t there?  

What if that was where he had died?

Danny swallowed and pasted on a smile.  “Cool.  So… what do we do together?”

They stared blankly at him.  

“You know, for fun?  Or hanging out?”

“We used to stargaze together a lot,” said Maddie.  

“And we’d go fishing!” boomed Jack.  

“Yeah, but we can’t really do either of those, right?  We’re stuck inside.”

“That’s true…  But we do have our movies, don’t we?  And some games.”

“Righto!” said Jack.  “I’ll go get the stuff!”

.

The movie they had finally settled on was a space documentary.  Watching it was nice, even if the popcorn was a little burnt.  

Watching Jack and Maddie try to cook dinner afterward, though…  They seemed to keep reaching for things that weren’t there, or bumping into each other, like they expected there to be more room, or, well.  The food looked presentable enough, but there was a mess.  A big one.  

Still, the macaroni and cheese looked and smelled fine.  

“One of your favorites!” said Jack, proudly.  “After this, we’ll have some fudge!”  He served Danny a scoop bigger than his head, then took a big ceramic mug from the cabinet and filled it with soda.

Danny mentally shrugged and picked up his fork.  If he couldn’t eat it, he couldn’t eat it.  

“So,” he said, after eating a few bites, “how did the whole ghost thing happen?”

“Pardon?” asked Maddie, looking a little pale.  

“Well, my situation is a bit weird, isn’t it?  I was just wondering if you knew how it happened.”

“No,” said Maddie.  “I’m afraid not.  It’s a mystery to us, too.  Like we said, we were surprised by all of… this.”

That was weird.  If Jazz knew, shouldn’t they know, too?

Or maybe they just didn’t want to tell him.  

He fiddled idly with the mug.  There were clumsy, childish stars and moons painted on its side.  

“Do you like it?” asked Maddie.  “You painted that.  We went to one of those pottery places for Jazz’s seventh birthday.  You were both so young back then…”

“I did?” asked Danny. 

“You did,” said Maddie.  “If you look at the bottom, you’ll see your initials.”

Danny held the cup up over his head and looked at the bottom.  The letters DJF were painted on the bottom.  

“What do the J and F stand for?”

“James Fenton,” said Maddie.  “James was Jack’s father’s name.”

“And Fenton?”

“Our name.  Our family name.”

“Huh,” said Danny.  He set the mug back down, but kept his fingers looped around the handle of the mug.  It was… grounding, somehow, to touch something from his childhood, from his past.  “Do you know why this, um, trial was started?”  He took another bite of the macaroni and cheese so he had something to do with his other hand.  

“No,” said Maddie, quickly.  

“Maddie…”

“We don’t.”

Alright, then.

It was suddenly very hard to swallow.  

“We don’t know.  We don’t know why any of this happened.  But we’re so glad you’re with us again.  We’re so glad this is almost over.”

“I know!” shouted Jack, suddenly, making Danny, already tense, jerk sideways in alarm.  “When this is over, we can go back to that place and make another–”

Danny had still been holding the mug, and when he flinched, he took the mug with him.  He fumbled it briefly before it hit the ground, interrupting whatever Jack was saying and plashing soda everywhere.  

“Oops,” said Danny, stricken.  “Sorry.  I’m really sorry, um.”  He had telekinesis.  Why couldn’t he just–  

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” said Jack, kneeling and picking up the pieces.  

“I can do that,” said Danny.  “You don’t have to–”

“No, no, I’ve got it,” said Jack.  “We’ll just put it right back together!  A little superglue and it’ll be as right as rain.”

“I’ve got the mop.  You just stay there and eat, okay, Danny?”

That was, like, the exact opposite of what he wanted to do.  He wanted to do something to help, but something about the situation held him paralyzed.

“Yeah!” said Jack, rinsing the shards in the kitchen sink.  “We just need some glue, then we’ll put it right!”

“Make sure it dries first,” said Maddie, maneuvering a large mop.  

“Oh, right!”

He put the pieces on a dishtowel and began to pat them off.  Danny, slowly, reluctantly, began to eat again.  

“What were you saying before, Jack?”

“Oh, I was thinking that we could go back to that pottery place after all this.  Make a few new pieces.  It looks like we’ll need it, huh?  What do you think, Danny?”

“Um, it sound like it could be fun?”

“Then it’s a plan!  We’ll have to rope Jazz in, too, when she’s back in town!”

Speaking of Jazz…  Danny had to wonder why she was competing separately from these two.  She definitely wasn’t at college, after all.  Was it because of what Frostbite had said?  Or some other rule of the trial that Clockwork hadn’t mentioned?  Or just a strategy to give the family two chances?

He had no idea how to ask those questions.  

But then… maybe there was something in Jazz’s room?  Or even in his room.

“Want to help me put this back together?” asked Jack.  “I’ve got to go find my tools, so if you could just arrange them…”

“You both need to eat first,” said Maddie, “before our food gets cold.”

“Right you are, Maddie!”

Danny had, somehow, lost most of his appetite, but he ate anyway, knowing that if he didn’t he’d be hungry later.  When he estimated he’d eaten enough, he pushed aside his plate and went over to the shards of the mug.

It had broken unevenly, which meant that it would be easier to figure out what went where.  He started sorting the pieces, and as he did so, he felt himself start to calm down again.  

Jack ruffled his hair when he was about halfway through, making Danny freeze, his ears canting backwards.  

“I’ve got the super glue!” he said before sitting back down at the table.  

They worked together to put the mug back together after that, stars reemerging from scattered shards.  It was… peaceful.  Sort of like watching Clockwork work in his workroom.  Eventually, the mug was, more or less, together, although the cracks were still very visible.

“There we go!  Just like a puzzle, huh?  How’d you like working with your old man again?”

“It was good,” said Danny.  

“Yeah, it was good,” said Jack, beaming.  “Maybe I’ll show you how to h–  Ahem.  I’ll show you how to knit next!  I do love knitting.  And needlepoint.  Fiber art is great, Danny.  Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“That sounds nice,” said Danny, smiling.  Then he yawned.  

“Oh, wow, you’ve got some fangs in there!  That’s new.”  He cleared his throat.  “It’s getting pretty late, though, isn’t it?  You should get into bed.  You’ve had a long day!”

Danny wasn’t sure how long the day had been, but he was tired.  “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“We have your toothbrush and everything up in your bathroom,” said Maddie.

“Thanks,” said Danny.  “I’ll go up, then?”

“Wait!” shouted Jack, making Danny jump again.  “The fudge!  Can’t go to bed without fudge!”

“I’m actually pretty full…”

“Nonsense!  There’s always room for fudge.”

So, they ate fudge, and then Danny went upstairs to the bathroom.  

As promised, there was a toothbrush, floss, and a hairbrush already set out.  There was a cabinet set into the mirror, and another under the sink.  

He hesitated for a moment before opening the one over the sink.  There was a bottle of aspirin and a few boxes of bandaids, but it was otherwise empty. Next, he looked under the sink.  Mostly, there were cleaning supplies.  But there was also a large first aid box.  It had a bright green stain on one corner.  

Danny sucked in his lips, then pulled it out and started to look through it as he sat on the closed lid of the toilet.  It looked like it had been used frequently.  Most of the refillables were mostly empty.  

What had happened that he’d used so much of this?  Because it had to be him.  No one else living here would have left an ectoplasm stain on the lid.  

Frostbite’s claim was looking more and more plausible the more he learned.  

He closed the lid and put the box away.  He was going to give the Fentons the benefit of the doubt until he got actual evidence one way or another.  Frostbite had said that he’d never actually met them.  So.  

Jazz’s room.  While he was still mostly awake.  It was getting late.  

He walked through the wall into the room next door.  Jazz’s room was… less empty than he would have expected, given that she had her own house.  But it looked like someone had moved out of the room in an awful hurry.  More of the drawers in the dresser were opened than closed, clothing was strewn over the bed, the chair had been knocked over, the desktop computer tower had been opened up and the hard drive removed.  

Danny searched the room, but didn’t find anything but a note in Jazz’s handwriting, something about reminding him of a school assignment.  Everything else was just… clothing, books, his sister’s knick-knacks.  Nothing important.  

Defeated, he went back to his room, curled up in his bed, and went to sleep under the fake stars.  

.

Danny was going to give the Fentons a week, just like he’d given everyone else, unless they did something really unbelievable or dangerous, like the Observants, or forgot to feed him or something.  He’d already decided that, and he’d stick to it, even if they were being sketchy.  

So, he stuck with Maddie’s frantic baking, and Jack interrupting himself whenever he, apparently accidentally, mentioned engineering or science.  He let it go when they dodged his questions about what they did for a living.  He knitted with Jack, and watched documentaries and movies, and helped Maddie make lunch and breakfast, and slowly started working through the comics he’d found in his room.  He listened to Jack as he monologued about this and that and letting the broken mug ‘set.’  He helped with the ‘remodel’ as much as he could, and looked for clues about what, exactly, Jack and Maddie had removed.  

He also searched his own room, but the Observants, or whoever had prepared the trial, had been very thorough when making sure there was no direct physical evidence of Danny having ever lived here.  Not only were there no pictures, the schoolwork on the walls was old enough that Danny couldn’t say if the handwriting really was his, and it wasn’t like he’d found a journal or anything anywhere.  There was just a feeling.  

What he didn’t do, though, was look through the walled-off door in the kitchen.  

If there was a mad science lab anywhere, it was there.  And if a mad science lab was here, it was probably where he had died.  He…  Didn’t really want to see that.  He wasn’t sure he could see that and stay… reasonable… with Jack and Maddie.  

But… he had to know.  

So, just the day before he’d ‘scheduled’ himself to leave, he stood in front of that patch of wall and stepped through.  

It was predictably dark.  But Danny had both good night vision and the ability to create balls of light, so he called one up.  

The basement wasn’t unfinished.  It was, in fact, a mad science lab.  

He hated being right.  

It wasn’t just a mad science lab, though.  It was a half destroyed mad science lab.  Shelves had been knocked over, machines had been partially disassembled.  One area in particular looked as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to it and then dumped ectoplasm and something gross and brown on it.  He couldn’t even tell what some of that stuff was.

And then there was the inactive portal.  

Danny floated towards it, despite remembering Vlad’s warning about his portal.  It looked almost exactly the same.  Maybe a little less shiny, but still…

He yanked himself away from it, not liking how it seemed to grab his attention, and floated over to where filing cabinets had spilled over.  He grabbed a piece of paper at random and read it.  Then he read it again.  Finally, he dropped it back onto the pile.  

Jack and Maddie made their money inventing weapons.  Good to know.  

He floated over to the particularly wrecked area.  Was this the result of a weapons test?  That would make sense… sort of… so much of this was just meaningless without context, and he couldn’t get context.

There were papers here, too, in a binder half embedded in one wall.  Danny pulled it free easily and started to read it.  

When he realized what he was reading, he almost dropped the binder.  This was–  But it had to be for an animal, a dangerous animal they were hunting, or–  There were animal ghosts.  Frostbite even had the skins and furs of a few.  

Danny’s hands were shaking.  He wasn’t sweating.  Ghost form was good for more than his looks.  But he was shaking.  And his tail had fluffed out to its fullest extent.  

His eyes wandered down the pages, shying away from the worse things, until, finally, he reached a name.  

It was his.  

Phantom.  

He turned to the last page, skipping most of the binder, and read–

This time, he did drop the binder, and he gagged, too.  No.  No, that didn’t happen to him.  He flew backwards, over the bloody mess that had–  He ran into one of the walls, and an alarm started up, a broken thing, clearly not working quite right.  

Danny fled up the stairs, through the shut, metallic door, through the hasty drywall and into the kitchen.  The kitchen, where the alarm was also blaring, and Jack and Maddie were walking through the door in matching bathrobes.  

“Were– Were you in the lab?” asked Jack, uncertainly.  

“You,” said Danny, struggling to get the words out.  “You–”

“Are you hurt?” asked Maddie, reaching for him.  “Do you–”

“No!” shouted Danny.  “Don’t touch me!  Don’t come near me!”

She backed off, immediately, raising her hands so he could see them.  He hated that it did make him feel better.  

“Danny,” she said.  “Danny, I don’t know what you saw–”

“I saw what you did.  You hunted me down like– like an animal.  You tried to– to–” Danny sagged against the counter, one hand clutching the pocketwatch.  He should just hit the button.  He should hit the button now.  But part of him needed to know why.  

“It was a mistake,” said Jack.  

“A mistake?  You didn’t do that by mistake.  You can’t just trip and then do that.  There’s planning there, and preparation–”

“No, no,” said Maddie, “not–  We didn’t know it was you.  You didn’t look like yourself–”

“I don’t look like myself now, are you going to do it again?”

“No,” said both Jack and Maddie, vehemently.

“But you would’ve done it to someone else, is that it?”

“That’s,” said Jack.  “Not anymore.  Not anymore, son.  We’ve made mistakes.  We were wrong about so, so many things, but we’re trying.  We’re trying, and we never wanted to do anything that would hurt you.”

“We’re trying to make amends,” said Maddie.

“By hiding this?” demanded Danny.  “By pretending you didn’t do it?”

“Only because this is our only chance,” she said.  “It’s our only chance, and you didn’t even remember.  What good would apologizing have done?”

“More good than this.  Why did you even do it?”

“We’re scientists,” said Maddie.  

“We just wanted to know how ghosts work,” said Jack.  “But we’ve sworn all of it off, forever.  We even took out the anti-ghost security system!  We don’t want to have anything to do with something that hurt you.”

“You hurt me.”

“Please, Danny, you have every right to be angry with us,” said Maddie, “but give this family a chance.  We know it’s our fault that things turned out the way they did, but…  We’re sorry.  We’re sorry, and we love you, and we want to fix this, and doesn’t that count for something?”

“We want to be a family again,” said Jack, openly crying.  “We want to show you what that’s like.  What it would be like, now that we know.  You are our family, Danny.”

“Family,” repeated Danny, suddenly feeling cold, as if all the ice in his core had built to an unbearable level.  

He turned around, towards the counter, eyes flicking back and forth until he found what he was looking for.

Danny picked the repaired mug up off the kitchen counter.  “This cup,” he said.  “It’s like this cup.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jack.  

“Please,” said Maddie.  “We know that what we did was wrong, and we want to– We just wanted to move past it.  We want to be a family again, Danny.  We always just wanted you to be safe.”

Danny shook his head and turned the sink on.  He put the cup under it and filled it with water.  That done, he turned off the sink and he set the cup on the counter.  It leaked, horribly.  Some of the cracks leaked slowly, seeping water.  Some, near the bottom, spurted.  

“It’s still a cup,” said Danny.  “But you can’t really use it like one anymore, can you?  It’s not– It’s probably not even safe to use anymore, is it?  With the glue, and the cracks.”

“But it’s still something you made,” said Jack.  “It’s still something important, isn’t it?  It’s worth saving, for the memories.”

“Maybe,” said Danny.  “But you still can’t use it to drink.  You, um.  You have to get another cup.”  He wiped tears from his eyes.  “You can remember it, and it can be good to remember it, but it won’t work anymore.  It can’t be fixed.”

He turned back to them.  

“Please, Danny,” said Jack.  “Don’t go.  We love you.”

Danny gave them a tiny, pained smile, then said, “Goodbye.”

[elasbubble]

I watched 911 kinda regularly - without really being part of the fandom. Which to be honest seems to be healthier. Some fans are super intense and obsessed with the idea of Buck and Eddie. I never saw it really but I have to say I really like the development with Buck and Tommy.

So I never shipped Buck and Eddie romantically. I love their relationship and how close they are but I never thought there is more or there needs to be more. Now that I checked some tags here I see how popular they are and how many think that this recent development means that Buck and Eddie become a thing.

And of course I cannot say this never will be an option also regarding with how much attention they get even now. But there are some things that do not make sense to me if the plan is to pair them up.

Because A) to make them a couple they kinda have to repeat the storyline again. Buck - mostly presented as straight for six seasons - realized he is also interested in men. So at one point Eddie - who has also been only presented as straight so far - has to go through the same process to make them become a thing. So the audience would see a very similar storyline twice. And I can’t imagine that the show runners would just tell the same story again.

B) If the plan is to put these two together - why include the detour with Tommy. Why not just tell the storyline with Eddie from the start. Have them experience a very close moment in which both realize - oh it’s you who I love. Because Eddie needs to have the realisation at one point anyways to make this work. So they could just tell the story with the two of them.

C) If Buck and Eddie are together. The creators would limit themselves in telling future stories. Because Eddie and Buck already share a lot of screen time. Also have them be romantically involved would make it almost impossible to separate them and show them with other characters. It would be like work together, hang out together, go home together etc etc. So far, their individual love interests - apart from family issues - is pretty much the only thing that kinda separates them and allows the creators to tell individual storylines.

D) What would really change when they are together? Kinda goes hand in hand with the previous point. Both are super close. They care about each other. They love each other. What would change if they become a couple. Nothing except they might kiss here and there. The dynamics will remain pretty much the same.

[weneeya]

Another request 👉🏼👈🏼

Depressed geto × reader , Their first meeting and their attraction to each other, and how geto finally felt like he could breathe after he felt happy with her and fell in love with her.

Saving his life

comfort with Geto

thank you for your request!! I'll try my best then <3 requests are open :)

The last few days, or even weeks, were pretty hard for Geto Suguru. Since the incident with his best friend and their mission, Suguru hasn't been the same. He was clearly overthinking all the time, and getting out was a real difficulty for him. He was doing the bare minimum, when he was able to. Depression was hitting hard, even if he refused to admit it. 

He was outside today, as he had to do some groceries. Nothing too much, but it was a necessity. Long black hair running down his shoulders, and visible dark circles under his eyes ; no one would dare even approach him like this. No one except you. 

He was in front of a display, looking for something, when he heard someone clear his throat. You were right behind him, with this soft look on his face, all shy at the idea of talking to him. You looked away, playing nervously with the handle of your bag. 

“Excuse me, can you help me, please? I need this, up there, but I can’t reach it,” you said, pointing out the thing on the top shelf. He looked at it, before looking back at you. He stayed silent, before grabbing the said thing, and giving it to you. A smile appeared on your lips, before you let his gaze again. 

“Thank you!” You told him, before slightly waving at him. In those words, you left to go back to doing your own groceries. He stayed there for a few moments before a soft smile left his lips, going back to what he was doing. 

After this, you met each other a few times. It was like fate wanted you to meet again and again. It was in random situations, and soon or later he learned your name. He wasn’t really in the mood  to meet anyone, or even to let anyone come into his life ; but you were so sweet, all the time. 

You were like a ray of light in the dark hell of his mind. You were constantly the only positive thing that happened in his day every time he was meeting you. You were just here, with your bright smile and your soft voice. No matter how bad he felt, it was always better when you were here. 

He wasn’t so sure about how he felt about you. It was a bit messy in his head because he was so lost with himself and his own emotions. But after some time, he started to see you voluntarily. In fact, he was asking you out for dates, but he wouldn’t admit it. He wasn’t ready to even think about a relationship right now. 

But you were, and you knew that you started to like him. Suguru was a man who was getting killed slowly by his own mind, and you didn’t want to let him stay in this hell alone. You wanted to help him, and he was willing to let you do it, then you would. 

Day after day, you were growing closer to each other. And finally, Suguru started to realize how he felt towards you. You were a new breath in his life, and he knew that he couldn’t get out of this alone. He needed help, and letting you get into his life would probably be the first step for this. This is why he decided to speak to you about it. 

He called you, asking you to join him in his own apartment, which you did without hesitation. You were a bit worried about him, because he wasn’t really letting you in too frequently. Something inside of you was telling you that something happened. You were glad to see that you were wrong. 

Suguru offered to come sit on the couch with him, and you did without saying anything. Both of you stayed silent for a few moments, before he broke it. He sighed slowly, before massaging his temples. He looked at you, hesitating for some time. 

“I wanted to thank you. You’re helping me, probably more than you would think, and I needed to say thank you,” he started, and you were ready to answer when he stopped you by raising his hand a little. “Let me finish, please.” 

You nodded slowly, and he pursued his words. “I think I’m ready to get some help, for real I mean. But I can’t do this alone. And…” He sighed one more time, rubbing his cheek as he was searching for his words. “What I’m trying to say is that I would love to have you in my life. More than this, I mean.” 

You looked at him without saying anything, processing what he had just said. You weren’t so sure of what he meant, or at least you were scared that you understood it wrong. You were looking into his eyes, before you finally answered. “Are you… asking me out?” 

He looked away, and you could see a hint of a blush over his cheeks. You took it as a yes, and a soft smile appeared on your lips. You slowly grabbed his hands, making him look back at you. “I’d love that, Suguru.” 

This time, it was his turn to process your words. He hoped with everything that you would say yes, but a part of him was scared that he would make you run away. And as you were ready to say something, he simply took your face between his hands to kiss you like his life was depending on it. 

It was only the first step, but he knew that with you in his life, nothing could go wrong.

hope you liked it!! I've done my best, sorry if it's not perfect :(

[kit-williams]

Hoof Care

Yes I was really thinking of Baldamort's voice for Drar (Watch his video on the Master of Executions and well you can probably figure out where I got Drar's voice from)

Husbandry tag list: @egrets-not-regrets @liar-anubiass-blog @barn-anon @bleedingichorhearts @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

thank you @squishyowl for the 40k themed dividers

It was that time of the month again where you'd get a call to go to them they paid you quiet a bit and of course you weren't the only person going... it was always a big big event. You head to the Iron Warrior's base near the city... most Chaos Space Marines' don't have bases but their loyalist counterparts do... though Iron Warriors are an exception not a norm. Though you weren't sure as the Iron Warriors didn't have too much friction with their "traitor" selves? You didn't understand nor really bother too.

The norm would be the fact that there is a Night Lord base being built somewhere given that there were now enough loyalist night lords demanding it. But you made sure your tools were sharp and everything was ready... you knew the only downside of the Iron Warriors was the fact that both loyalist and traitor elements kept pushing and vying for power within their own... faction?

As you backed your truck in and got out you could hear his crooning... he was old had that slightly withered lit to his voice as it croaked out of him as if he had ruined his vocal cords time and time again. "Missy so nice of you to join us." Drar the Warpcutter spoke and if you remembered he said he was the leader of a warband known as the Malefactors of Sin.

"Lord Drar... and hello Helios." You politely said as his Master of Executions followed. The big man behind him looked at you and you swallowed... you didn't get the feel good vibes everyone else got. Your eyes flicked to their weapons... to the skulls up their belt... and you had a feeling Drar enjoyed the fact you were afraid of them. "Where is Vasso..." You ask for the current "chapter master" and you watch Drar wave his hand.

"Busy. The child is going to work himself to death at this rate and I... took the liberty of playing host for him." He says with a grin, "But enough pleasantries... you're the final one to arrive." You flinch as his massive hand pushes against your back and you move into the hanger.

Chaos Space Marines of countless chapters and warbands were here all highly mutated. Heavy hooves clipped and clopped against the floor as centaurs made their way to the designated zone. You headed over to the other ferriers as Drar trilled his goodbye and Helios just gave a nod. You could see where other space marines were watching and learning how to take care of their mutated brothers and cousins as in the far corner you could see iron warriors guarding feral marines that took the offer for maintained care but do not want humans touching them. You could understand as it took you a long time to get over the wrongness of your clients.

At least they behaved better than horses, the massive hooves were clipped and trimmed even polished if they wanted too. The utterly massive Black Legionary stallion... Troc was his name, he would have been such a pretty black horse, brought his own shoes... shiny brass things. He liked his hooves painted a nice solid black.

You could hear Adamatar bellowing as the white minotaur had hurt one of his hooves and so trying to get him to behave enough to put a block on his hoof was feeling like an impossible task. You could spy long tails wagging as fur coats were being brushed... a canine centaur of a Night Lord was half asleep as he was getting his jet black fur coat groomed and nails trimmed on his paws. You trimmed the frog of Troc's hooves just shaping his hoof as he was currently gushing about his bonded... a little girl who had a habit of calling him "pony" or "horsey" when she got overly excited and also calling him "Truck".

The shiny iron horseshoes of a bulky draft of an Iron warrior caught your eye. They certainly liked to feel pretty.... you shiver as a heavily mutated space marine lumbers past... organized chaos of it all and you're getting paid enough that it makes you not have to worry about the slower times of the year.

You could see someone with their body leaning into a massive stomach maw just cleaning the teeth of the marine. You stop looking as you hammer in his shoe and work on cutting the nails and then applying the black hoof polish.... rinse and repeat.

Sure they cooperated more then an actual animal but it was still a lot of hard work. "Hey!" You snapped at someone's apprentice. "Don't just walk behind them!" You said pointing out the fact that they were just walking right behind the centaurs. Which if he was working with actual horses was bad practice.

"They won't kick." They countered back.

"Yeah but they still can't see you and when you work with an actual horse they will kick if you walk right behind you. Give them the same berth as you would an actual horse because if one of these boy's kicks you're going to die." You huff as you resume working on the hooves of the Iron Warrior as someone was working on his horns... it was sometimes easier to do multiple tasks on the same marine as they kept still.

Lunch was provided and it was nice... it felt normal to have that lull in working as you grabbed a coffee as you worked in shifts... went around inspecting other's techniques... watching how some of them were teaching their apprentices, in various fields, or how they were teaching the Astartes on how to take care of their own. Sometimes a feral marine would be brave and try to get taken care of by one of us "mortals" but you never volunteered you had plenty of Astartes asking for you to work on them personally.

But the day blurred on by till you were getting handed a stack of cash of a few thousand dollars with the hope that you would come back same time next month and as well as the cavate that if something changed they would inform you. Again you see Drar as you head back to your trunk and a cup of coffee, that looks so small in his hands, is given to you. "What's this for?"

"Job well done?" He croons.

"Ah yes the usual hush coffee so I don't tattle on Vasso of you playing chapter master huh?" You say ignoring the scowl on his face as you sip the coffee, "or... is it hush coffee to keep me from tattling again to Vasso because you enjoy scaring people?"

"Mouthy little mortal aren't you." He hisses as you cow slightly, far too tired to not be filled with dread as he moves far too smoothly for something so big. He spat to the side, "But something like that."

"And like usual I'm going to be the last one to leave because you like chatting." You say tiredly as you drink the hot brew that made you feel tired. You had enough for a hotel in the city for tonight though... beds were always available here at the fortress. "I have a feeling you're going to chat me up so long I might just have to spend the night."

Drar laughed, it was hardly a pleasant sounding thing... it was dark and ominous... it was downright an evil sounding thing that ended rolling in his chest till it quieted. "You look exhausted."

You just drank the coffee to prevent yourself from making a 'captain obvious' joke, "I might stay tonight or at least get a few hours of shut eye."

"Then let me play the good host once more." He crooned and you just locked your car after placing your tools inside... just a few hours of sleep then you'd make the drive home.

[ididntknowwhattocallthis]

Ok I wanna talk about Ethari's clothing/design over all. His clothes and tattoos are different from every other Moonshadow elf we've seen, and he's one of the few that doesn't wear braids. Like:

The recurring elements are intricate patterning; over layers and under layers; multiple colors in the same garment (or at least same outfit); wraparound construction, color contrast between mediums, lights, and darks; and the dominant color is always the medium, never the lightest or darkest color (usually navy, true black is very rare outside of the assassins). Even arc 2 Rayla follows most of these rules and she's been away from her culture for two years!

But then we have Ethari:

He doesn't have an outer layer, he wears almost solid navy, none of those clothes are wraparound, he has no light color, there's not a lot of contrast, and his dark color is true black despite not being an assassin. He bends all the rules, though he only breaks one completely. He still has that patterning, but it's minimal compared to the others. He has plenty of accent colors, more than anyone else actually, but they show up on him far less. He does have light, medium, and dark colors, but his whole pallet is darker than everyone else's. The only rule he 100% breaks is the wraparound construction

A lot of this probably derives from the fact that he's a metalsmith:

For the most part his clothes quite are practical;

Black/navy hides coal dust/soot very well. It gets everywhere, on your pants and face especially, and is highly visible on just about every other color.

Forging is hot work & you do it next to a fire that needs to be at least 1000° celsius, I never wear more than one layer either.

those sleeves, while a bit looser than I'd be comfortable with, probably aren't going to get in the way. Plus I heard somewhere that they're spelled to repel heat (couldn't find if that's actually canon tho), so if that's true they're much better than my gloves.

The crop top isn't great but he's got that belt to stop most embers. Besides he's probably not the type to yelp every time one lands on him like I am.

if he pulls the scarf over his mouth & nose it'll help delay him getting lung cancer in the death trap of a smithy Wonderstorm designed for him (my problems with it are a post all on their own. I have nothing against the artists, its pretty, but by all rights he should be dead)

There might also be a cultural aspect to his clothing:

I think the navy blue, the arm bands, the boot decorations, and his belt & tabard could all be symbols that mean "I am a metalsmith" in Moonshadow culture. (Quick side note, he's not technically a blacksmith. historically blacksmith means specifically iron workers. If anything he's a whitesmith since he usually works with silver.) We see it with the assassins, why not metalsmiths too?

Plus if you take a look at his forge in the art book, there's a design carved on it that looks almost exactly like the one on his tabard. Elements of it also appear on other parts of his clothing:

I suspect that this is some sort of symbol for metal working or fire protection. If he's in a guild it could be their symbol, or it could just be a wider cultural symbol. Either way it has a meaning that relates to the forge specifically. I couldn't find it anywhere else in the room.

I just realized that I never even brought up the metal hems on his sleeves. Then again what is there to say? It's metal, he's a metalsmith. It's pretty, he likes pretty things.

But what about the rule he completely breaks?

As I said, every moonshadow garment has some sort of wrap-and-secure construction to it-- except Ethari's clothes. I seriously doubt this is a metalsmith thing. Basic garment construction isn't a sensible way to differentiate your group within one culture. I fully believe Ethari is doing this on purpose. But why? That why gets even bigger when you realize that no other moonshadow elves we've met have brown eyes or periwinkle blue tattoos.

Put a pin in all that, I need to explain my interpretation of Moonshadow culture for this to make sense.

"Moon Primal creatures can be private and secretive, and are keenly aware of the power of appearances." - from the official website

"Moonshadow Elves obey a rather rigid, honor-driven culture." - from the wiki

To me this paints a picture of a fairly collectivist culture. They place a heavy emphasis on community and duty, two things that are usually more peaceful/simpler when you have cohesion within the group. Cohesion creates less conflict, less conflict makes your community more peaceful and your duty to it easier to complete.

But they know that this cohesion is- to an extent- only an act, so each person has a sub community where they don't have to act. Your inner self is for family and friends close enough to be family. (I honestly think they might have some sort of ritual to formally adopt friends as family) To everyone else you're supposed to put up a front that makes you seem more like everyone else.

OK back to the pin

Even without his clothes, Ethari is already visually different from everyone else. No other Moonshadow elves we've seen have tattoos or eyes the same color as his. It's a subtle difference but it is noticeable, and in a culture so focused on appearances people would notice. Most people's instinct would be to try to hide or downplay it, to prop up that front as much as they can. Yet Ethari doesn't put up a front, not to the extent that most people seem to. He's even accentuating his differences by dressing in a different style than them- and he's respected.

In my comm class the other day we were talking about groups, and one of the things that came up was that cohesion fosters sameness and diversity fosters innovation. Ethari is an innovator, it's literally his job. He invents the wingalings in bloodmoon huntress, Runaan and Rayla's weapons, and probably a bunch more stuff we haven't seen. Maybe for all they value appearances and fitting in, moonshadow culture still recognizes that people like him are important and they aren't as effective when they have to fit in. They can't be too out there (remember, Ethari only bends the rules rather than breaking them) but as long as they stay within a certain radius of the norm they can gain a lot of respect. I think this is what Ethari has done. The fact that his family (Runaan, Tiadrin, Lain) are all pretty traditional probably helped a lot. They keep him from pushing too hard on the edge of the box and he keeps them flexible.

That they aren't there anymore has probably exacerbated the rift between him and the rest of the silvegrove caused by Rayla's ghosting and whatever news has reached them from the storm spire.

I am so excited to see him in S6. I thought about adding some speculation about what his new design might look like, but I honestly don't think he'll have changed that drastically aside from his hair. My biggest question is honestly whether or not he's still in The Silvergrove.

Bonus:

I bet that some of Ethari's relative weirdness rubbed off on Rayla. She didn't have many friends as a kid so, when she wasn't in school or with the assassins, it makes sense that hung out with Ethari a lot. Since he's less strict than Runaan she was probably only comfortable completely unmasking with him. He heard about all her crushes, fears, and insecurities that Runaan didn't. Which goes a long way to explaining why Ethari was the only one who could see she wouldn't be a good assassin; she was hiding those traits from everyone but him.

This also explains some of why he was so willing to believe that she ran away. Ethari saw all of her vulnerability, but he didn't see all of her strength. While she was out training and facing her fears with Runaan, Ethari was in the smithy and only heard about their exploits after the fact. Neither of them saw all of who Rayla is, but both of them thought they did and had to find out that they were wrong in just about the most heartbreaking way imaginable.

[atomicpirateperson]

something that still confuses me to this day is why did Rob say he had a major in Canadian history? it's a really brief joke with little meaning behind it but it doesn't make sense?

specifically the quote was "all I've got on my resume is laughing maniacally, monologing about evil plans, and a major in Canadian history! i can't exactly go into catering!"

as far as I know, there's no such thing as a major until you enter high school, and rob was in the same grade as Gumball before he stopped going to elmore jr high (middle school) so... where is this coming from? I don't think there's another school anywhere nearby except "Richwood High" but that seems like a humans-only place and he would still probably have to finish 7th/8th grade first

even if he was able to have a major, why? he has no family that would make him go to some other school, likewise, he shows no signs of going to school

did he just choose something random to falsify on his "resume" so it would make him seem educated if he ever tried to get a job? even though the quote implies he can't get a job?

actually that does make sense to think he's pretty much just lying. or the writers goofed and didn't think that through at all. thank you all for attending this meeting

[cosmicpancakes]

Hi! So I saw your post about wanting to talk about Will Solace (me too queen, me too) so what are your headcanons? Or funny little tidbits about him and his friends? Love your blog!

OF COURSE THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK!!! to hear that someone genuinely loves my blog is so surreal cause like??? You like my blog?? Where I literally just say what's on my mind and ramble???

(P.S. TO ANYONE SEEING THIS!! IF YOU WANT HEADCANONS FOR OTHER CHARACTERS JUST SHOOT ME AN ASK!!!! I WILL HAPPILY ANSWER THEM ALL :DD)

Okay without further ado, here they are!!!

My Will Solace headcanons! ☀️

He has curly hair! Think somewhere between 2c and 3a

Speaking about hair, his hair is naturally brown and he dyes it blonde

ANOTHER HAIR ONE but he has a very extensive hair care routine! You'd think he would have very damaged hair because of all the bleaching, but that shit is SOFT

Only uses feminine floral perfume cause it smells better (hes right. it does.)

Despite insisting on healthy eating, he survives off of random snacks and red bulls

Loves indie pop and jazz music but does listen to a lot a country as it reminds him of his mother

Hopeless romantic. He will cry to laufey.

90% of his closet is made up of incredibly cheesy dad joke t-shirts.

Wears lots and lots of bracelets! All very mismatched in terms of colour and texture, but it adds to the charm (or so he says)

His hair is just long enough to put in a very short ponytail when he works (but a few loose curls always slip out)

He sticks out his tongue when he's concentrating on something

Clarrisse practically adopted him as her honorary little brother and he went to her highschool graduation!! (she totally did not cry when she saw him. nope. not at all.)

everyone at camp owes him atleast 5 favours except lou ellen because she somehow never gets injured??? Cecil on the other hand, owes him about 13 favours.

Friday is the apollo cabin's game night, and he NEVER wins (kayla swears austin is cheating, but hes just really good at monopoly.)

the cabin is always spotless because he despises stable duty

(This one is canon but not talked about enough) when he said he's horrible at every apollo thing except healing, he was not exaggerating. an absolutely horrid singer and he would miss a target 3 metres away.

okay that was a lie because he can manipulate light.... to a certain extent. he's working on it he swears!!

One of those people that are incredibly insistant about wearing sunscreen even tho he doesn't need it himself

And now for some angsty ones because I know you all love them:

A very obvious one, but he has pretty bad PTSD.

I'm pretty sure this one is canon, but he saw Lee die in botl (i have had a oneshot idea about thia for months, but i literally never finish oneshots so theres no point in trying to write it ☹️)

A lot of people thought him and Lee were biological siblings because they looked so similar and also because they were super close

him and Micheal were also really close, but they were a lot more distant after Lee died and they never really got to reconnect

Post botl, the apollo cabin had about 17 kids. 3 survived the battle of manhattan.

has a really bad habit of overworking to distract himself

Way too many scars for a medic. (He won't admit where he got them from, or why most of them are on him arms.)

Okay, that's all for today!! I hope you enjoyed those headcanons :)

Once again saying this but if anyone reading this wants some headcanons for other characters please please leave me an ask 🙏 love you all okay bye bye

[sitp-recs]

Hi Liv!!! I’ve seen you have an draco injury/disability reclist but I was wondering if yoy knew of any fics where harry had an injury/disability??

thank you!!

Hi anon! Yes definitely, here are some hurt!Harry for you:

Wield Me by @tackytigerfic (E, 10k)

Draco Malfoy, blacksmith, is renowned through the magical world for his skill and exquisite creations. He could quite easily spend the rest of his days making pretty trinkets for the fae court, and being handsomely rewarded for the privilege. But why take the easy route when instead he could get involved in a dangerous mission with Unspeakable Harry Potter (who also happens to be Draco's... well, he's something, isn't he?). A little story about learning to strike while the iron is hot.

The Snitch-Maker by Omi_Ohmy (T, 21k)

Draco is content with his Snitches, with the tap tap tap of his hammer, and the tiny gears and sharp scent of metal in his workshop - until one day Harry Potter appears, asking for help to solve a rash of Snitch-tampering in the Quidditch world.

Fearful Trill by @vukovich (E, 29k)

Harry should have come out and met someone when he was younger. He should have seen a doctor about the pain in his hip while youth was still on his side. Now, he's made his peace with dying young, but maybe not with dying alone.

If an Injury Is to Be Inflicted by @shealwaysreads (E, 45k)

Harry Potter disappeared a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, and with him went all hope for true change in magical Britain. Three years later, Draco indulges himself and attends his first Dog Fight—the infamous underground fights with no rules, no referee, and no points system bar blood on the floor. The game was simple: you win, or you die.

fly like paper, high like planes by @harryromper (M, 47k)

Harry Potter, Head Coach of the Appleby Arrows, is very content leading a quiet life. He has a doddery old house-elf who makes his breakfast, a team of players who love Quidditch almost as much as he does, and a Kneazle that curls against his damaged leg at the foot of his bed at night. The absolute last thing he needs is a fit, tattooed, and wildly talented Draco Malfoy back from living his life on the margins.

Harry Potter and the elusive day off by pleasebekidding (E, 71k)

Auror Potter needs a fucking break. He is wiped. He is exhausted. He probably didn't intend to put himself into a magical coma but these things happen. And who cares, really? He is comfortable in a house where he has hidden away all the shit he can't deal with.

Merlin Works in Mysterious Ways by lordhellebore (M, 82k) - cw: major permanent disability

When Harry is forced to form a Blood Bond with Draco Malfoy under threat of death, he thinks his future will consist of a cold home and sexual frustration. But when a group of left-over Death Eaters decides to stir trouble, their lives change completely – and it takes them both some years to figure out whether it’s for better or for worse.

Balance, Imperfect by @bixgirl1 (E, 91k)

When Harry sustains an injury in the line of work, he no longer knows how to navigate the life he loved, and finds help and solace from the most unexpected source.

Any Instrument by @dictacontrion (E, 131k)

Draco Malfoy wouldn't go back to England for anything less than an exceptional case. Being asked to figure out why Harry Potter can't control his magic might be exceptional enough to qualify.

The Ordeal of Being Known by @lou-isfake (M, 146k)

When Auror Potter is anonymously cursed with silence by being forced to hide his own voice inside his mind, there's unfortunately only one person in the country with the qualifications to fix it: Certified and Licensed Healer Legilimens, Draco Malfoy, specialist in Mind Curses and Afflictions. It's obviously a terrible idea, a disaster waiting to happen, but Draco's never been able to back down from a challenge... especially from Potter.

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Angel Dust Redesign! (7/7)

FINALLY I AM DONE WITH THE MAIN 7 FREAKS.

Depending how I feel I might throw in some bonuses but these guys are your only guarantees! Going to be posting the full lineup separately because I don’t want to clutter this post!!

God okay where to start. I was talking about them in Husk’s post so let’s go with that. Angel’s clothing restrictions are his necklace and shoes. I might go on a bit of a tangent with this so forgive me 💔

For the necklace let me get this out of the way: yes it is a BDSM thing! I’m terrified people are going to take this as me being a weirdo but please as an adult content creator give me some space to explain before anyone jumps on me and hits me with a metal pipe. The intentions behind symbolism matter HEAVILY. I am against Vivzie’s portrayal of Angel’s abuse and the chain/collar imagery because it is blatantly either her being incredibly uncreative or her inserting her kinks into her shows. I think it is completely fine to use suggestive items in this way as long as the intentions are clear and not just there for no reason.

I would’ve probably done something else like a corset as a restriction, but I’d like to stop being so shy about Angel’s actual job. He is a pornstar and removing that outward aspect of him is taking a big chunk of his character away. I need more people to acknowledge that Angel enjoys sex and actively wanted to explore this side of himself. With the slip chain however, I would also like to portray how things Angel enjoys in his job have been used against him and made him come to resent what he does when he is forced into it. I think thats a pretty understandable thing to show.

This is harder to explain but the gist of it is just don’t be afraid to acknowledge Angel’s job. It’s okay to use sexual things as metaphors. Have you heard any christian song ever/hj

Alright with that out of the way, with the shoes. Angel’s feet are a large insecurity and discomfort of his which already makes his shoes some sort of restriction on their own, however if controlled, they can be made to stumble forward, fall over, etc. I wanted to show how Angel has freedom to go mostly wherever he pleases, though once again, that free will can be taken away very quickly.

I hated his suit so all suiting is gone entirely. He’s supposed to look attractive or eye catching at the very least. I’ve also added back the outer fangs he had in my first redesign!

I am much happier with the new one in comparison to this old guy. I know it’s only a few months old but you can really see how differently I draw him and the details I pay attention to more like the shape of his hair. Aside from the old one! I wanted Angel himself to still keep the reddish pink to show wrath and destain being masked as lust, except now his clothing is actually the pinkish-purple lust colour and it covers more eye grabbing parts of his body like the chest, hands, hips, and so on.

I don’t think I’ve ever outwardly mentioned Angel having polycoria but he does and it’s probably my favourite feature to draw aside from his hair. About the hair and fur: Angel used to have spots and basic stripes before his contract with Valentino, where afterwards they began to curl into their cordiform shapes. Most physical overlord changes with hair and skin tend to not go away, so depending on who you make a contract with it’s either a fun perk or a sort of scar.

Once again, not sure if I will be continuing with anymore in this specific lineup, but if I do end up posting more of these I really hope you like those too! 💣

[x-liv25-jamieswife]

Hey i read ur gray dying hcs. Can you make some for jamie too?? Thanks!!

(and maybe avery could be after)

people's reaction to jameson's death head canons

avery: she would be absolutely destroyed. she would not get out of bed and seriously consider offing herself (its up to you if she actually does off herself). it would get so bad alisa and the others would have to intervene and get her professional help. she would only get out of bed to visit his grave. i also hc that he'd have a pre-written letter for her if he ever died that he gave to alisa (he told her to give it to avery when he died). she would reread that letter over and over again until her eyes became blurred with tears. she'd also get really mad at the world for ripping all of the people she loves away from her. she'd stop working, eating, drinking, showering, etc. basically, she'd be so wrecked she wouldn't be able to handle anything.

grayson: he'd try to keep everyone together but would fail miserably bc he's also falling apart at the seams. he'd work to try to distract himself but nothing ever took jamie's death off of his mind. he'd visit his grave everyday regretting everything that happened with emily bc of what it did to his relationship with jamie. i think he'd also find a way to blame himself. he'd apologize to jamie every single time he visited his grave for not being the best brother. he'd end up hiring someone to do his work for him bc he just wouldn't be able to do it. yk what emily's death did to him but this would be 1391938 times worse. he'd be crying 24/7 and he'd also wonder if life was worth living (like avery). he would think he deserved to die instead of jamie.

xander: basically the same thing i put in my 'how would people react if grayson died post'. he'd crack is usual jokes in hopes of getting people to laugh and loosen up all while dying on the inside. he'd occasionally slip up and forget jamie was still alive. he'd be working on smth and would think 'huh let me ask jamie what he thinks about this' just to then realize jamie's gone. he'd also visit his grave to leave little gadgets and notes there/talk to him. i think the grief would hit him so hard he wouldn't be able to work on his inventions and experiments anymore. he'd just sit in his lab, dissociating, thinking about jamie and how shitty his life is now that he's gone. he'd check up on everyone, especially avery cause, like i said, she's not getting out of bed.

nash: pretty much the same thing i said in my grayson post. would also try to keep the family going but would also fail miserably. he wouldn't let anyone see him fall apart except for libby. he'd, in a way, think he failed at keeping his brother safe, and, that he didn't do the one thing he was supposed to do as jamie's older brother. he'd become extra protective of his two remaining siblings and avery. he visits jamie's grave balling his eyes trying to think of a way he could've saved jamie. unlike avery, he'd have to get out of bed. staying in bed makes him feel even worse so he gets up and either checks on the others or works. i can also imagine him feeling so depressed he's just numb to everything except anything that concerns jamie or his family. he wouldn't care about the things he cared about before and would just lose it.

libby: the one who's actually keeping everyone together. she's making sure everyone is fed, bathed, etc and makes sure everyone has someone to talk to or cry to. meanwhile, she'd be grieving too. even though she's not as close to jamie, his death would still hit her hard. her baking would get completely out of hand. sm that people had to make an intervention bc they couldn't eat all of the cupcakes. she'd bring the cupcakes to jamie's grave (like i said in my grayson post). she'd start crying at any time of the day when she sees smth that reminds her of him (this is basically the exact same thing i wrote in my grayson post but i wanted to include her cause she's the best. i just think she'd react the same to all of the brother's deaths (except nash))

not proof read so sorry if there are grammar mistakes or smth doesn't make sense.

[atopvisenyashill]

I think the point that a lot of people miss with Arya is that the approval she craves the most is of her mother. People call her pretty, including her father and Jon. But she still doesn't think she is pretty because she doesn't measure up to her mother's expectations. We know it hurts her that unlike her siblings, she doesn't look like Catelyn. Which is funny to me because Catelyn despaired that none of her children looked like Ned, except Arya. So no Catelyn did not hate that Arya didn't have Tully looks (believe me I have seen that take numerous times), rather she wanted her to take care of herself and be presentable.

Yeah like, I would say it’s even a pretty common dynamic in real life, where you have a daughter that doesn’t quite fit in and a mother who does and they talk past each other a lot of the times. It’s not to say that I don’t wish Catelyn had taken a more gentle approach to Arya, or that it’s like, an okay thing that the system they live in forces the toxicity of this situation but I think people really gloss over the fundamental aspect of this (and like,,, most) mother-daughter relationships which is that Arya wants her mother to be proud of her and Catelyn wants Arya to be prepared for adulthood. Neither of them is acting out of a bad place here and neither is motivated by anything hostile. Catelyn just feels, pragmatically, that there are certain things Arya needs to know and understand about the world and the life she’ll be expected to live. While Arya wishes her mother could conceive of a world where Arya can just be whomever she wants without being forced into a specific mold or role.

I kinda scrapped this part of that Cat & Arya meta I wrote, but I had like a whole section wherein like, Catelyn knows that The Rules Of Men allowed her a lot of power - she was presumptive heir, acting lady, and now a lady of a great seat with a husband who adores her in part because of her willfulness and fiery temper. What Catelyn wants for Arya is for Arya to have the tools she needs to succeed as a willful, fiery girl in a World Of Men, so that Arya can find a man who loves her for who she is and find freedom in her home & marriage. But because while Arya and Catelyn may share temperaments, they don’t have a lot of overlap in skills, I think Arya sees more clearly and much sooner than it’s simply ridiculous and unfair that Arya has to have this really specific skill set to be worth anything, and that what she’s “worth” to a man shouldn’t be as important as what she’s worth to herself. But like, how do you even verbalize a concept you’re only slightly aware if you’re Arya? How do you tell your mother that the skills she’s honed for her whole life in the hopes that her life as a woman in a feudal system is happy, are like, ~useless~ and have no moral value, it’s just something Cat is good at vs something Arya is good at?? I mean the whole reason i CUT that section was because i felt like i wasn’t hitting the balance of explaining and validating both WHAT IT IS Catelyn wants for Arya out of the system and also WHY IT IS that Arya chafes so badly.

Ultimately, Arya wants to want what her mother wants for her because that’s her mom, she wants to be like her mom, she wants her mom to be proud of her, and also ultimately, Catelyn wants Arya to be safe, and alive, and thinks to herself that Arya would be good at running a household, and since running a household gave Catelyn power, it’s a sweet wish that Catelyn wants to set Arya up to be someone who is great with the only power Catelyn feels she can give her. But they see the world so differently, because they are both stubborn and willful while being Incredibly different & living very different childhoods, and before Catelyn can hold Arya and assure her that she would have wanted her back no matter what, even if her hair is messy and she’s dressing like a boy, even if she never fits in and has killed people, because Catelyn loves her enough to fight against that system that has benefit Cat all those years……but it’s too late, and Catelyn is gone before she can ever say the words I know she wanted to say, the words that Arya needed to hear.

[aeomianamoure]

Headcanon/smut emo txt, emo txt x Coquette reader, soft.

recently I have been watching slaughtering movies and while I was watching it I imagined emo txt being so yandere... Like Slaughtering every person who gets near their friend, just to make her feel distant towards every person she talks to except for them.. Reassuring it was fine.. Then.. For like after days of hanging out.. Emo txt teaches reader how to drink and listen to PTV, So after like making the reader drunk emo txt fcks the reader's brains out ackk I know this is too much but trust me this scenerio is making me feral, I wanted to writ but I can't explain it..

— emo slasher txt!

warnings <3: !death, yandere txt! , reader is a sweetheart but very brain washed , !smut , !slasher txt , kinda mean txt (sorry.. at least they think ur pretty :D ) , txt r obsessive in this fic like hiding under your air vents to watch you obsessive (im sorry) , established relationship between reader nd txt !! (txt x reader as bestfriends through memories) ,, !smut , alcohol drinking ,, ddlg if u squint ,, daddy kink !! ,, reader is codependent on txt ,, dark n toxic txt who is good at gaslighting ): ,, !crybaby reader who’s sensitive

a/n <3: i promise what you’re requesting isn’t too much!! i just hope i did my best and you enjoyed this fic ):

“crying already babydoll?” you hear your boyfriends rough voice whispering in your ear as you try your best not to cry out loud at how aggressive your boyfriend was rutting inside of you

although you were quiet; you still couldn’t help yourself from letting tears fall down our hooded eyes feeling yourself grow more tipsy and tipsy as time went by

you let out a soft gasp as you felt your boyfriend above you dig his fingertips harshly into the cheeks of your face before leaning in so close to your face you feel his minty breath fanning over your nose; “you know you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cry you know that right?” he laughs sickly lightly slapping your face giggling like some type of maniac when you flinch and cry more

“my pretty little girl takin’ it so good and you’re not even fighting back” your boyfriends tone was filled with fake sympathy as he sped up his already harsh thrusts on your poor pussy

you could barely speak, the alcohol and sex making you feel so far gone but still you were able to keep track of what’s going on and where your surroundings were

“bet chaewon can’t make you feel this good huh baby? she can’t make your cunnie feel this good like i do can’t she?” your boyfriend begins to rub your sweet pussy as he can feel you close up on him signaling you were close to cumming

you felt your blood run cold at the mention of your now dead friend; “w-what?” you reply shakily “you heard me baby can chaewon make you feel this good like daddy does? i bet she can’t she doesn’t even know how to make you cum like i do” your boyfriends tone grows more sicker and sicker as you begin to panic at the idea of him having to do with your friends death.

but you didn’t wanna question him about that right now, you just knew that you were on the verge of cumming and after a nod in approval from your boyfriend you finally did

that following night you lay weakly in your boyfriends big strong arms, watching him through doe wide eyes as he lazily takes a puff out of blunt building up the courage to ask what the hell was that question he asked you while fucking your brains out

but you gulped back your question; scared of his answer and scared of his harsh reaction if you questioned him

your suspicions grew worse and worse the more your friends were randomly disappearing although your boyfriend hasn’t bought anyone of them up since that night you were still scared

eventually though due to your boyfriend distracting you; you have forgotten all about your friends deaths. only thinking about one thing and one thing only your boyfriend

you thought about what to wear to make him compliment you, what to say and how to act to make him wanna take care of you since all you ever wanted was to be taken care of by him

“you don’t need your friends baby you have me and that’s enough for you right?” your boyfriend would grip on your chin as you’d tell him you missed your old friends but with wide glimmering eyes you’d nod at his words eager to please him making grin like the cheshire cat

you tried to remember how life was before you become so dependent on your boyfriend; and maybe tried looking for the warnings signs and clues that maybe just maybe he had something to do with murders going around town but you wanted to make sure first

you huff looking back down on memory lane; sure your boyfriend was a red flag but he was no killer sure he put you on drugs and alcohol but that’s what normal bestfriends do right? and even so he’d make it up to you by gifting you his favorite pierce the veil cds so it’s all good right? plus he said he would never harm you!

you decided to finally give it a rest; being so brainwashed where you couldn’t even tell what your boyfriends warning signs were so you gave up maybe you’ll never know why you felt so distant from everybody

that was until were awaken with your the feeling of blood drip down to your stomach; opening your eyes gently to let out the biggest scream as you awaken in a bed in a unfamiliar basement with your friend chaewon’s already decaying dead body tied upside down from the ceiling

your boyfriend smiling in delight when you cried out for his help; even though the signs were there your boyfriend really was the mass murdered running around town even obvious signs like a pair of butterfly knives you’ve gifted him for christmas which again you didn’t think was that serious was splattered with fresh blood that didn’t belong to you just below your feet <3

a/n <3: i hope i brought ur vision to life anon i tried :(