#finished this book a month ago but think about I would have died for you every fucking day

[milfglupshitto]

Is there anything gayer than refusing to ask someone out, then holding them personally responsible for the silent, ever-increasing intensity of your feelings until they tell you casually they're going on a date with someone who asked them out, then exploding with despair? Almost certainly, but no one will tell me what it is.

"I would've died for you" is a complete non sequitur of a response to the sentence "I am going on a date with a boy named Blane," but it's also the only honest thing one can say in response.

Something that May Shock and Discredit You, Daniel Mallory Ortberg (Lavery)

[elzdaizy]

Trouble After Paradise (Part 1)

Warnings: lots of angst, conflict, explicit language.

Summary of short story: Reader and Harry have returned from their honeymoon to a harsh reality and their first huge hurdle as a married couple.

A/N: This is 1 of 3 parts. Enjoy! Just a little short story idea i had and wanted to share with you all.

It’s been four weeks since you returned home from your honeymoon in Costa Rica and you’ve found yourself reminiscing constantly on that magical holiday.

To say the least, things have took a turn for the worst since you and Harry got home.

You were bombarded with mountains of piles of work to get through because there was no one to fill your position whilst you’d taken the month off leading up to your wedding, including the honeymoon.

Harry had started filming his next movie, one that was mentally draining due to his character being a very unwell mental patient at a psychiatric hospital.

You worked from seven in the morning until four in the afternoon in the office but always brought home some work to do which kept you busy until about eight at night when you’d get into bed.

Weekends were exhausting as well, you were catching up with friends and family after basically being off the grid throughout the week.

Harry’s shooting location, thankfully, was only a few hours away up north in Manchester so he managed to be home often between breaks but unfortunately meant that he wasn’t home with you for periods of times.

He tries his best to be at home with you on the weekends but his schedule doesn’t work that way all the time. On average you probably see each other a total of two days out of the week and it’s been this way the past four weeks.

You’ve both been so busy, you’ve barely had the time to live life together as a married couple. There’s a tension building full of stress and exhaustion on both ends of your marriage. You find yourselves bickering when you’re together and getting on each other’s nerves more than ever before.

You know it’s because you’re equally annoyed with yourselves and each other with the current situation.

It’s 8pm on a Friday night and Harry called you earlier that morning to let you know he’s coming home today at around 6:30pm and will be able to stay the full week until he’s off again. He asked for you to pick him up from the station because he had booked a meal at The Ivy for 8pm. You of course said yes. You were so excited to hear the news, you felt tears well up in your eyes. “I really can’t wait, I miss you so much.” You replied before you both said your goodbyes and I love you’s before hanging up.

What you didn’t know was that working would be busier than ever that Friday and now you’re still in the office trying to hurry up and finish off one last piece of paper work to be sent off to your client before the weekend. Your phone had died two hours ago and Harry hadn’t contacted you before it died so you weren’t too concerned that he would’ve tried to since then.

You could cry out of frustration. You purposely stayed back to get all this extra work done so you could book off Monday and Tuesday to extend your weekend to spend some time with your husband.

Half an hour later, you finally send the email and pack up your stuff. You race to your car and make your way home. The door is unlocked when you go to turn the key and your heart skips a beat when you realise that Harry must be home.

The lights are all off downstairs which is odd so you make your way upstairs to your bedroom to find Harry sat on the edge of the bed in just his underwear and his phone in his hands.

“Hi, baby.” You softly speak up as you walk through the door and put your bag and coat over the chair in the corner of the room.

Harry glances at you over his shoulder briefly without so much as a tiny acknowledgment of your presence before looking back to his phone.

You frown, thinking his behaviour seems a bit off. The energy in the room seems low and you can sense he’s not in a good mood.

You walk over to him, a hand on his shoulder and the other hand reaching to lift his head by tilting his chin in your direction for him to look up at you. As soon as you try to lean forward to place a kiss to his lips he yanks his head away from your touch and rolls his eyes, letting out a huff.

You step back, very offended and extremely hurt by his cold actions.

“Fuck you, then.” You throw your hands up and storm away to head downstairs to the kitchen. You’re literally trying so hard not to break down and cry right now so you’re pacing around your kitchen, breathing heavily for a few moments then deciding to pour yourself a large glass of wine.

You almost down the first glass. The second one being poured less than five minutes later. You’re just stood by your kitchen island with a glass of wine in one hand and thoughts racing around your mind as you try to figure out why your husband seems to despise you at the moment.

You soon realise it could possibly be the fact that your phone was dead and maybe he was trying to get ahold of you.

You start to feel a pit of guilt in your stomach when you take your phone from your pocket and plug it into the charger point next to your toaster.

You finish your second glass of wine once your phone switches on and your eyes widen when you notice the ten missed calls and five unread messages from Harry.

You read the texts carefully one at a time.

From Harry:

6:09pm - l’m fifteen minutes away from the station if you want to set off now. Love you. Xx

6:30pm - Where are you? I’m waiting near the security box until you’re here. Xx

6:53pm - I’ve rung you five times and you’re not answering so I’m making my own way home now.

7:26pm - Why aren’t you answering and why aren’t you at home? You do realise we have to be at The Ivy in half an hour.

8:03pm - cancelled the booking. If you read this before you come home - don’t bother me when you get in, I can’t be arsed with this tonight.

You heart feels like it’s going to stop. You have never felt more terrible in your life. You feel like a punch to the gut is what you deserve right now and nothing less. And to think, you literally just spat in his face and said fuck you to him, still not realising what you’d done.

You were so fixated on wanting to spend the week with Harry that you’d completely forgotten about picking him up and going out for dinner tonight.

You were a little drunk and very upset with yourself so of course the only thing currently you did was start to cry. You sat on a stool at your island, lent your elbows on the countertop, put your face in your hands and sobbed. Sobbed for your husband and how upset he must be feeling. Sobbed at the realisation of how much you hurt him and let him down. You felt like a failure.

After about thirty minutes of letting your feelings flow out of your system uncontrollably, you composed yourself and prepared yourself to go and apologise profusely. You’d gone over what to say in your head a million times and nothing sounded good enough but you know the least he deserves is an apology rather than an explanation or excuse right now.

Your face is puffy and red from the crying as you shakily walk up the stairs to your room and find Harry is now laying under the covers with the tv on, watching a movie with a deep frown on his face. As if he’s in deep thought rather than paying attention to the screen.

You push the door open gently and let yourself in. Basically walking with your tail between your legs, you can barely look at him as you sit on the bottom corner of the bed on your side. You couldn’t be further away from him on the bed if you tried.

“Harry, I’m so sorry.” You croak. Lips quivering as you fight the urge to break down crying again. You finally look at him after your first attempt at the beginning of a long apology. He’s ignoring you. Keeping his eyes fixed on the screen and his arms crossed over his chest.

You decide to keep speaking, “I completely understand why you’re angry and I don’t want to give myself any excuses for-.”

He reaches for the remote and turns up the volume to drown out your voice.

You let out a shaky sigh. A tear slipping down your cheek. “I didn’t ignore you on purpose- look, can you please just say something?” You beg pathetically and Harry’s head turns as his eyes look at you with anger.

“Told you I can’t be fucked with this tonight just leave me alone, please.” He sighs in annoyance before completely turning his back to you as he lays on his side.

You really don’t know what to say now. You didn’t expect this reaction from him. He’s never been this angry with you before and it’s terrifying you slightly because you really can’t cope with it. You don’t even care if he shouts at this point, you just want more of a reaction from him.

He has every right to feel the way he does, you know that. You hate going to sleep on bad terms though. You both agreed to always resolve conflicts before getting into bed because you never wanted to be that couple that gets into fights and makes one or the other sleep on the sofa.

It seems like it’s going to be that way tonight though. You don’t want to say another word because you don’t want to make it worse. Even though you know you won’t get much sleep, you decide to go sleep downstairs on the couch. You could go sleep in the spare room but you need a tv to distract you from your racing thoughts so the living room it is.

You get up from the bed, go take a quick shower and change into your pyjamas before grabbing your pillow from your side of the bed and walking towards the door.

“Goodnight, Harry. I love you.” You say to him softly before closing the door behind yourself and making your way downstairs.

You turn on a shitty reality show to fall asleep too. It takes a few hours but eventually you drift off.

The next morning you’re awoken by the sound of the blender rattling off in the kitchen. You feel at peace for a split second as your groggy memory clears up as your consciousness comes back, along with the awful events of last night. You grimace start yourself as you sit up on the couch and turn around to see Harry standing in the kitchen, making himself a smoothie, dressed in his running gear.

It mustn’t be any later than 6am because he only likes going running at the crack of dawn. He hasn’t noticed that you’re awake yet but you know he’s still fuming by the look on his face.

Now that you’re not intoxicated and knowing it’s a new day, you’re determined to resolve this issue very soon. You don’t want to waste any more of the short time you two have together for the next four days being bitter.

You get up from the couch and stretch before walking over to the kitchen island and taking a seat on the stool you were sobbing on last night.

“Morning.” You say with a tired voice as Harry still hasn’t acknowledged you whilst he’s cleaning up some dishes. You’re both facing each other on opposite sides of the island.

Harry looks up at you frowning and doesn’t reply so you take it as your queue to go in strong with all guns blazing.

“Can we please talk about this now?” You plead. Harry just deadpans and looks at you with a look that tells you no as he picks up his AirPods and puts them in as he makes his way to the door to go on his run.

“What the actual fuck! This is an actual fucking nightmare.” You frustratingly shout to no one but yourself after Harry closes the door on his way out.

[dreamwatch]

STWG daily drabble - 19/09/23

Prompt: we’re not family

****

The ICU is at capacity. An earthquake, they’re saying. It’s been a week and they’re still sticking to that bullshit story.

Wayne’s not an idiot, and neither are these doctors. There are Feds here talking about dog bites and it’s written all over their faces, yeah pal, we don’t believe it either.

A nurse brought him a book a couple of days ago. “To keep your mind off things.” It’s hard to read when he’s listening for the whoosh clicks of the ventilator, the alarms, beeps and bells of machinery, all plugged in to his nephew, and knowing that these sounds mean Eddie’s alive. He doesn’t want to keep his mind off that.

Wayne hears a commotion in the hallway and he’s about to ignore it when he realises he recognises the voice.

He steps out of the room and is stunned to see his little brother arguing with two nurses. It’s like a slap in the face. Wayne didn’t even know he was out of jail.

“Christ, Wayne, will you tell these people we’re family?”

Wayne stares at him. At Albert Edward Munson, the baby brother who he wished for for so long. Who finally showed up a couple of months after Wayne’s tenth birthday and he’d thought it was the best possible birthday present anyone could have got him.

He used to take Al to school for his Ma when she was working, his small hand tucked safely in Wayne’s as they walked. That yardstick of growth, hand against hand, laughter and giggles as Al caught up to him, bigger and bigger each year.

He showed him how to slick his curls back with Sweet Georgia Brown before his first date. Told him he was still proud of him when he failed senior year. 

Hugged him tight when Al was drafted. Hugged him tighter when he came home.

He comforted him when he got Shirley-Anne pregnant, told him it would be okay. Gave him money, helped them get married. 

Cried with him when Eddie was born. Cried with him when Shirley-Ann died.

Bailed him out of jail when he went on a bender. Cleaned up the bottles and cans in the house so that Eddie wouldn’t cut himself on them. 

Argued with him when he saw the bruises on Eddie’s arms. Hit him when he saw the bruise on Eddie’s cheek.

Disowned him when he threw Eddie out.

He stares at his baby brother, and it fucking hurts because he sees so much of Eddie standing there. The big brown eyes, the dark curls. It fucking hurts because he loved this kid with all his heart and he did everything he could, he did, to steer him right, to keep him on a good path. All for nothing.

Wayne swallows thick and wet. “We ain’t family.”

“The fuck we’re not!” shouts Al. “You can’t keep me from my boy!”

Wayne is a patient man, but that there is his breaking point. He storms towards Al, grabs his shirt in one hand, points right in his face with the other.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he spits out, venom and anger and frustration, a pressure cooker twenty years in the making finally exploding. “On two counts. I will keep you away from him, and he ain’t your fucking boy no more!” Wayne shoves him away. “You lost the right to call him your boy the moment you beat the shit out of him.”

He catches sight of one of the Feds and well fuck let’s make them work for their money, he thinks as he waves him over.

“This man’s bothering the nurses.” He barely finishes the sentence before Al is being dragged out of the ICU, hollering and shouting the whole way.

The nurses are kind, they ask if he’s okay and he thanks them and apologises. For what happened, not for Al’s behaviour. Because he stopped being responsible for Al Munson a long time ago.

[murderhusbands4life]

Hannibal Lecter X Autistic Child Reader

first request!

request: Can u do like austitic child reader with Hannibal 

summary: Hannibal latest patient is a child filled with trauma over their elder brothers death and Hannibal cares for them like his own.

Third person pov...

Mrs L/N and her 7 year old arrive outside Dr Hannibal Lecter's office, Y/Ns new physiatrist. A little over a month ago Y/Ns elder brother died, the 7 year old witnessed it since then the child had been filled with terror and hadn't slept well since.

Said child was grumpily standing next to their Mum staring down at their shoes swaying back and forth. "Do I have too" they pout, this makes Y/Ns mum sigh, she kneels and holds her Childs shoulder making the kid flinch not liking touch.

"Sorry honey, but you know what the school says you have to stick with the same therapist for at least a week before going back to school" explains the kids Mum, the child sighs. "Okayy, lets do it" they say making the women smile at them.

The building itself was beautiful with a sense of historical back ground, it was tall and didn't look like a physiatrists office, nervously Y/N follows their mother inside the building, Mrs L/N had heard from her close friend Jack Crawford about an amazing physiatrist and decided to make an appointment for her child.

Soon they came to a door which was Dr Lecter's office, Mrs L/N knocks on the door, looking down at her nervous child of course the child was nervous, Y/N doesn't like change and this is a huge change for them, then the door opens and man stands there.

He was tall around 6tf, he had ash grey hair, brown eyes, he had sharp cheekbones and an obviously fake smile on his face, to Y/N he looked about 40 maybe mid 40s. he was wearing a dark red pinstripe suit and dark brown shoes.

He looks at the mother and child in front of him wondering who they were. "hello, you must be Dr Lecter, Im Y/M/N L/N and this is Y/N we have an appointment" says the H/C woman, Hannibal eyes widened a fraction before returning to normal. "ah yes my apologies, I had forgotten please come in" he says and stands to the right holding the door open.

He had a slight accent, possibly eastern European, Y/N wracks their brain trying to place it but couldn't think, they shall have to ask the man later.

But Y/Ns mum shakes her head at the invitation. "I'm already late for work, I'll leave Y/N with you" she says before turning her back and kneeling next to her child, Hannibal watches as the child's eyes wonder not looking at their mother.

"Y/N love, I'll be back to pick you up later okay, my shift at the clinic will finish at 5 okay see you then, be good and respectful to Dr Lecter now" she says to the child kissing their forehead and walking away throwing a wave goodbye behind her.

The hallway was filled with silence as the Dr and Child stand. "Please come in Y/N" he says to the silent child. Y/N nervously enters the pristine office, the child gasps at how large the room was, bright E/C eyes marvel at its beauty.

Dr Lecter lips turn up at the emotionless child gasping at his office, he then walks over to the child and begins taking their coat, this makes the child look at him before smiling in thanks. "Thank you, sir," Hannibal hears a mumble.

"of course, now if you would please take a seat we will begin" he says motioning to one of the chairs he uses for his patents, though it had been a while since he had such a young one in his office.

"now then we shall begin, I am Hannibal Lecter and I will be your physiatrist" he says smiling at the small child sitting in the overly large chair, said child was still looking around the room drinking in all the details and books.

"Im Y/N L/N, sir im 7 years old" comes a tiny voice, Hannibal smiles slightly, they were getting somewhere at least he got their name. "hello Y/N do you know why you are here?" he asks the child, Y/N stopped looking around and instead looked at their shoes.

"because I don't sleep and Mummy's worried about me" comes the quiet voice, Hannibal was barely able to hear. He crosses his legs and continues to write in his notebook, brown eyes look over the child sitting opposite him, their movements skittish like a scared bunny.

"And why is that Y/N?" he asks gently coaxing the child to speak more, minutes pass before the child speaks. "Because brother died and I still dream off him though not nice dreams, I miss him" whispers the child tears gathering in the corner of their big E/C eyes.

Already seeing this happening Hannibal hands, the 7 tear old some tissues he keeps on his desk, tiny hand grab the white tissue and wipes their tears and blows their nose. "t-thank y-you s-sir" comes a tearful voice.

Hannibal smiles gently at the child reassuring them. "of course, child" he says as their session moves on.

Over Y/Ns next few appointments with Hannibal they began to get more comfortable with him and always enjoyed coming to his office, once he noticed how their eyes wondered toward his many books on the second level, the expression of surprise will forever make him happy as he told the child they could read his collection.

Said child bounds over to the many books and carefully grabs a couple, he had learnt that Y/N was autistic and had a love for books they loved reading anything, the two become ever closer their sessions became something less formal.

Hannibal had never felt this close to a child before, but he enjoyed their sessions together and was delighted to be able to help such a sweet innocent child go through their trauma.

The end!

Hope you liked this first oneshot for this new book. Sorry for the spelling and grammar mistakes in this.

Requests are open!

Word count: 1065

[dianawinchester03]

Supernatural Series Rewrite (Dean Winchester x Reader) by @dianawinchester03

Prologue - Enter Y/N

Series Masterlist

Y/N's POV

I straighten out my shirt,sighing as I watch the corpse ignite into flames in-front of my eyes.

Salt and Burn. Check. The chilly air in the cemetery engulfs my body, I warm my hands over the burning corpse, rubbing my hands together to gather the heat.

Internally rolling my eyes, I pick up my duffle bag and make my way towards my bike. My pride and joy. Quinn's a Harley-Davidson VRSC. I named her after my favorite DC Comic book character, Harley Quinn. Original huh?

Breaking me out of my thoughts I hear my phone ring. Fishing my phone out of my pocket as I lean against Quinn. Rolling my eyes, I answer roughly after seeing the contact.

"I'm alive, f/n" I say hastily. I could practically hear the frown crease on my fathers face with the way I answer. Don't get me wrong, I love the man but boy can he be a pain. "I'm glad to hear you're okay baby....how're things" He asks.

I pull my bottom lip into my mouth answering "Everything is fine, I just finished a quick salt and burn of an old pastor who had been terrorizing atheists" I chuckle ironically at the fact. Like father like daughter, my dad chuckles over the phone. "Wonderful, I knew you'd do well on your own" He says lightly.

"Is that so?" I say sarcastically. "Aren't you the same one who said, and I quote, 'Don't come back if you go out there on your own, don't call, don't text, pretend I'm dead' " I mock his rugged voice as I quote his words to me two years ago bitterly. Granted he's called me every so often since our falling out but I haven't dared called him.

Flashback

September 2003

"Daddy I'm 20 years old! I can hunt in my own. I've been doing it since I've been in diapers!" I yell frustrated at my father. "You better watch your tone with me! Who the fuck do you think you're yelling at!?" He screams back at me causing me to flinch.

"You're not ready! I know the shit that's out there in the world and I'd prefer if you and I do it together. There is no reason we can't hunt together!" He yells in my face, causing me to flinch in habit.

"Your obsession with finding the thing that killed mom is the reason I can't work with you" I say harshly. The look on his face alone, scared the crap outta me. When I was younger, anything he said would scare me. I'd listen to him and follow his orders like a good little soldier but I'm sick of it.

Two decades of this crap, it was bound to happen. My mother died in my nursery when I was six months old. Pinned to the ceiling just like Sam's mom, only a couple months after Mary died, my mom died.

Mom and Dad were childhood friends with Sam and Dean's mom. They bonded through all of them coming from families of hunters. Basically my parents were childhood sweethearts which honestly touches my heart.

After knocking back a few, dad could tell the story of when he fell in love with mom a million times. He loved her with everything. I always wondered if I'd have something like that. Frankly, I don't believe love like that exists anymore.

My mother was also a psychic, a powerful one too. She basically had these abilities like seeing into the past/present/future, moving objects with her mind, summoning/binding ghosts and reading minds. Psychics develop their abilities by 18. She could even communicate with the dead.

She and my dad hunted together after meeting and settled down in Lawrence, deciding to have a family. Giving it up for the apple pie life. Honestly sometimes I think my dad's disappointed at the fact that I'm not like my mother.

"So you don't care about your mother then?" He says back to me coldly, rage dripping from his voice. "I never said that dad! I just can't deal with you every single goddamn day breathing down my neck. I love you so much daddy but shit! I can't take this anymore" Tears prick at my eyes as I pick up my helmet and army green duffel bag. I throw on my leather jacket and head for the front door.

Jumping on my bike, before I could put on my helmet I hear his yell from the safehouse. "Listen to me and listen to me good Y/N L/N. Don't come back if you go out there on your own, don't call, don't text, pretend I'm dead". My heart jumped out of my chest, my helmet clutched to my side. Angrily I wipe my tears away from my cheeks "Fine". With that I snap my helmet on and make my way out of the driveway and into the night.

Present Time

September 2005

My father sighs heavily over the phone because of my habit to hold a grudge. I was surprised last year when he called me for my birthday to say the least. Since then, he's called me every so often. "Listen baby, I didn't call to argue. I just wanted to make sure you're okay"

"I'm fine dad, look I've gotta go. I'm hungry and tired. Okay? We'll talk whenever" Without letting him say another word, I hang up. You might think I'm being harsh but if you've lived a day in the life of my childhood, you'd be just as angry as me right now.

I straddle my bike, placing my helmet on my head. The roar of the engine fills the quiet cemetery, revving the engine I make my way towards a local dive bar to pick up some grub and hit the hay.

________________________________

"Say your prayers little one,

Don't forget my son,

To include everyoneeee"

I jump awake hearing the beginning guitar riff and first couple lyrics of "Enter Sandman" by Metallica from my phone. Without looking at the contact I click decline, turning over to see the handsome naked man next to me. I slightly jump before realizing he's the guy I met at the bar. I'm not one for constant one night stands but sometimes I need a release. Especially after that call with my dad. I groan from the pounding pain in my head. Great, I'm gonna get a bitch of a hangover.

Sighing I check the time. 3:33 am. Who the fuck would call me at this hour? It's a bit creepy no? I put my phone back onto the nightstand and wrap my arms around my mystery man, resting my head on his chest. Mark? Mike? Im not sure. He stirs a bit but eventually falls back asleep. As if on cue my phone rings again.

I let out an exhaustrated groan before turning over and answering my phone. "Whoever the fuck this is. you better have a damn good reason to be calling me at this ungodly hour because I am *this* close to reaching into this phone and going all terminator on your ass!" I whisper yell angrily into my phone while I hastily put on my flannel, buttoning it up and slipping on my panties as I was still naked.

The deep humorous chuckle that I, all too well recognize echo in my ear. "Sorry princess, didn't mean to interrupt your night. I've been trying to call you for weeks and couldn't get a hold onto ya" My heart flutters at the sound of Dean's voice, he's one of my best friends. He's always called me "princess" and I've always called him "charming". His brother Sam and me have always been closer, being the same age and all. Me and Sam shared a stronger bond.

Where as Dean and me....there was never a Dean and me I guess. He's sees me as a little sister but while growing up I had a slight crush on him. I always reminded myself that he'd never see me like that so I just discarded it. One thing for sure, he's always protected me when necessary. Same with Sam, he's like a brother to me.

Growing up Dean teased me and Sam all the time, joking calling me his little girlfriend. Saying we'll get married and all that crap. But me and Sam came to the conclusion that we are just friends. Hell. We're basically siblings.

It's kinda bothered me knowing I had a crush on Dean but that died down when I hit my teens and puberty. We all grew up together going from motel to motel to Bobby's house to motel over and over. Our dads were hunting partners, my dad would leave me with Sam and Dean.

Dean always in charge of course, John made sure to enforce that. I tried my best to help Dean out because no kid should have that much responsibility but he'd always say "I've got it" or "It's okay y/n/n, just go play with Sammy". I love those boys with all my heart.

Last I'd seen Dean for my 21st last year, he took me out and I quote he wanted to be "the first person to see me take my first legal drink".

I turn around to see Mark/Mike stirring in his sleep again, grabbing pack of cigarettes and lighter I walk towards the door and unlock it, stepping outside the sleazy motel room. I respond to Dean "Jesus Christ Dean, it's 3 am" I roll my eyes as I flick my lighter, putting one of the cigarettes to my lips, lighting it and taking a puff.

"Like I said, been trying to reach ya but you're basically a ghost" He says ironically. "Sorry man, I've been trying to avoid pops" I say, taking another drag. "Yeah I actually called him to get a hold onto you, told me you hung up on him. Kinda cold not gonna lie" Dean says lightly chuckling and it all clicks into place, that's why my dad called me.

"Shit, my bad. How have you been? You alright?" I ask worried, leaning against the door of my room. I just know he has that shit eating signature grin on his face when he hears my tone. "Awww is the Princess worried about me" He teases. "You better watch that tone before I hang up on you too" I mock threaten, teasing him back, trying to fight the smile on my face.

I take a drag from my cigarette that's nearly done as he dramatically gasps "You wouldn't dare" He say's melodramatically like an old lady in a soap opera and I laugh "Try me, Winchester" I chuckle as we share a laugh. "It's good to hear from you, Charming. What's the problem though? I know it has to be serious for you to call me at this hour" I queried, waiting for an answer.

"It's Dad, Y/N. He's gone on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days" He says, his voice somber. "He went on a case and hasn't updated you? That's strange" I say as I out my cigarette on the door still, now leaning against the railings over the ground floor of the motel.

"I'm on my way to California. I'm gonna grab Sammy from Stanford and head over to Jericho. That's where dad was working his case. You wanna tag along?" He asks hopefully. Without hesitation I say "I'm in Phoenix, just finished a milk run. If I leave as soon as sunrise I can make it for probably the next morning with a few pit stops"

"Great! I'll see you soon princess" He says flirtatiously. "Yeah yeah whatever Charming" I say chuckling "Wait did you say you're gonna grab Sammy? Have you guys talked since...." I ask cautiously. "Nah we haven't, but I'm hoping to change that. Have you?" He asks now sounding a little down. Truth is, I've talked to Sam a couple well times since he left for Stanford a couple years ago. I supported his decision to leave hunting and live a normal life. It's all we've ever talked about as kids.

He's updated me on his life at Stanford, he's got a girlfriend now. Jessica Moore, boy is she gorgeous. My little Sammy is all grown up. Ignoring the fact he's a couple months older than me and never lets me live it down but that's besides the point. He's happy and I feel bad that Dean has to go get him, but his dad is missing. They always butted heads but if it were me I'd wanna know. He needs to know.

"Yeah a couple times..." I say softly. "He misses you Dean" I add, trying to reassure Dean, knowing him he's probably overthinking going to see Sam. Dean sighs heavily before saying "I do too. I miss you as well you nutcase" I smile at this before replying "I miss you too you asshat. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you tomorrow" He says and with that I hang up. I walk back into my motel room to see Mark/Mike still asleep on the bed. I gather my things, tossing them into my duffel bag. After taking a shower I wait a couple hours for sunrise so I can leave.

Right as I'm about to pick up my helmet Mark/Mike wakes up, causing me to freeze. "Didn't take you for a dine and dash type" he says chuckling. I laugh as well "I'll take that as a compliment, I'm actually on my way out to meet a friend. It's important"

"That's cool, it was nice meeting you Y/N" he says nicely before laying back on the bed "You too Mark" I say back smiling, his face drops "It's Max". Crap.

Authors Note

HOLY SHIT! I'm so excited I can't. If you haven't noticed this is my first fanfiction, not my first book. The others I've deleted because they were embarrassing and I wrote them when I was 12 lol.

This book however, I plan on sticking to it. I've been contemplating doing a series rewrite on Supernatural for monthssss. Honestly I've read so much and there are plots I loved but also hated in some. So I decided to add a bit of a twist on mine.

I really hope whoever decided to read this that you like the plot I'm going with and I'm sure you've noticed that y/n is a little cold towards her father. I'm gonna be honest, I'm writing based off my my experience with my dad.

I do plan on developing their relationship but in the later episodes/chapters. Whoever is reading I just want to say thank you for giving my book a chance and I do hope you like the plot I am going to use for y/n's story.

As I am bisexual, I've been thinking about making y/n bisexual also but I know there's a lot of straight girlies on Wattpad. So I'd like to know your opinion if I should add that fact. Also I know Harley-Davidson VRSC came out in 2006 but this is a fictional book so let's just pretend it came out in the 90s or something lol.

Side note.

Y/N- Your name

Y/N/N- your nickname

F/N - your father's name

M/N- your mother's name

Xoxo

[nikkisheep]

Kill Me Slowly

Dean Winchester x pregnant!wife!reader

Warnings: ANGST, cursing, happy beginning, pregnant reader, death

Summary: You find out that Dean died and you don’t know how to react.

Words: 2,075

To be honest, I cried writing this and I will say, this is probably my saddest piece.

You danced around the bunker as Dean’s music blasted from the speakers. You were cleaning the library when you got bored and put on music so time would go by quicker. You sing loudly with the music as you dust the shelves, the books, the tables, the corners, everything you could think of. Getting finished with the library, you move on to the kitchen. You decide to make a pie and some burgers for the boys when they get back. You were nervous about them being gone without Castiel since his death but you trusted that they would be okay.

Mixing the pie crusts, you realized that I didn't have apples for the pie so you decided to run down to the supermarket to get some. I borrow the truck from the garage and drive to the store. There an older woman needed help with selecting apples.

“Ma’am, could you grab that apple for me?” She asked kindly.

“Of course, I actually need some myself.”

You help gather the apples for her and she turns to you to thank you.

“You know, my husband really likes apples and today would have been his 90th birthday,” she says sadly.

“I am so sorry for your loss. I actually am making a pie for my husband when he gets home from work,” You smile softly at her and she looks down to my belly.

“Oh, congrats. Is it a boy or a girl?” She gushes.

“We aren’t sure just yet but Dean, my husband, hopes it’s a girl. He says that he always wanted a daughter but I hope it’s a boy so he could be just like his father,” You smile as you look down at the growing baby bump that you had been trying to cover.

- - - - 

You come home to the bunker and go to the kitchen. Dean and Sam weren’t home just yet so you had a little bit more time before they were to walk through the door. You cut the apples and your belly growls so you get the peanut butter from the cabinet and dipped a few apple slices in to eat. You put on some music and danced along as you baked the pie and cooked the burgers. 

Your hands rubbed the seasoning deep into the meat as you heated the grill. You threw in some fries to be made fresh and you pulled the apple pie from the oven and smiled as the smell washed over you and the bunker. Once everything was ready, you jumped in the shower.

Thoughts of seeing Dean after so long flooded your mind and you smiled as you imagined the feeling of his skin against yours once more. You open his body wash and shampoo to use them. Dean always liked it when you smelt like him. It let him know that you were his. You run your hands up and down your body as you wash yourself and you relax into the hot water as your daydream of Dean continues. 

Getting dressed into a cute sundress, Dean picked it up when he was on a hunt about a month ago and thought it would be beautiful on you, and you headed to the kitchen and started making plates because you heard the Impala pull up into the garage. 

- - - -

Placing Dean’s pie on the table, you hear the door to the bunker open and footsteps begin to fall down the stairs. You gather up Dean’s plate to bring it to the table and you have a big smile on your face as you start walking to the table once again.

“Dean, I made your favorite. I figured that you would want a nice, hot apple pie for when you get ho-” You get interrupted when you round the corner when you only see Sam and his face is all red, with dark circles around his eyes, and his eyes were bloodshot. You stand there and then look around him for your dear husband.

“Oh Sam, you look horrible,” You sigh. “Where is Dean? Surely, he wouldn’t still be in the garage pulling out all the bags instead of greeting his wife?” 

You laughed softly, nervous.

“Dean isn’t here.” Is all he said.

He stumbled down the step to the dining room and sat at the table with his head in his hands. You were confused. If Dean wasn’t here, where was he?’’

“Where is Dean?”

Silence.

“Sam, where is Dean?” You demand an answer and this time when Sam looked up at you, you could just read his expression. Tears in his eyes, sobs being held back with all of his might. 

“No,” You say quietly. “No, no, no!”

The glass plate in your hand fell to the ground and shattered. Dean’s bacon cheeseburger that you made landed on the ground and fell apart. Your body started to quake as tears filled your eyesight. Your knees got weak and you let out an earth-shattering sob fall from your mouth. You felt a pain in your chest that felt like it was squeezing your lungs until they could barely constrict any further. Breathing began to become painful as your tears fell more frequently. You start to hyperventilate as your knees give out and Sam has to race to catch you before you land onto the broken glass that laid on the floor. Your hand got cut on the glass and you could barely even feel it. Your sobs turned violent as you begged for Dean to be there with you. 

“Dean! No, no, this isn’t true. Dean!” You start to shout, hoping, praying that he would walk right through the bunker door with a smile on his face with his green eyes shining.

“Shhh,” Sam said as he smoothed your hair, his arms cradling you as you grew to be weaker from crying.

Your body shook as you let out the painful wails that were buried deep inside your soul. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t hear. You couldn’t see. You couldn’t do anything but feel the pain that was tearing your heart and soul into pieces that would never be repaired. 

- - - -

The walk to your shared room with Dean felt like it was ten miles long. Your face hurts from crying, sobbing over the loss of your husband. You laid in bed, your hand was bandaged by Sam after he basically had to pin you to the ground to fix it for you, thinking about everything that had happened. 

Four Days Ago

You held out your hand for Dean to take it as you climbed in bed. You kissed his pink lips softly as his hand rubbed over your growing belly. He was being careful about everything around you since you told him the news.

“What do you hope it to be?” You asked as you played with his freshly washed hair as he laid his head on your stomach, hoping to feel the baby.

“I already know that it’s going to be a girl because she is just like her mama,” He said with a smile.

“You know it’s a girl?”

“Don’t call her an “it”.” You laughed lightly.

“Okay, why do you hope she’s a girl?’’

“Because, I have always pictured our first baby to be a girl and then when we have a second one, it would be a boy so she can be a big sister and beat up the boys who try to mess with our little boy,” He said with a very bright smile. You smiled at him and pulled him in for a kiss.

- - - -

Day One: Removing

You start to bring in boxes from the truck and head straight to your room. You walk in and start to gather Dean’s belongings up. You grab all of his shirts and throw them into the box. You grab his blanket and fold it up to put it in the box as well. You gather up his PJ’s, his pillows, his jeans, his Jelly Beans that you told him that they belonged in the kitchen instead of the room. You open the top drawer and find his underwear and you throw them in the box as well. You tear the room apart, removing anything Dean from the room. You didn’t want to be reminded of the fact that Dean wasn’t here anymore.

- - - - 

Day Six: Remembering

You stare at the boxes that sit on the other side of the room and you walk over. The first thing inside the box was your wedding ring. You had taken it off because you couldn’t stop crying every time you moved your left hand which gave you a glimpse of the ring.

You turned it over and tears welled up but you quickly put the ring away and then you found the tape that you had made him when he was away for a case on Christmas. You put it in the player.

“Dean, I miss you but I know you are doing what you need to do. I just wish that you had let me go with you.” The frame moves to the kitchen. 

“I made all of your favorites and I really hope that I don’t stress eat them all because that would not be a good idea,” You laughed as the camera shook.

You turned it off and then you looked at more tapes. One was when you moved all of your stuff into his room. You watched as you and Dean were smiling sweetly at each other. You were looking at the camera and he was looking at you. His green eyes bored into the side of your face with a loving gaze. He kissed your cheek and you let out a loud laugh at his gesture. You were happy then. That was before you had gotten married. You were so excited that Dean wanted you to move to his room and you were acting like a giddy teenager who just got asked to Prom. 

- - - -

One day later: Acceptance; The Funeral

Sam and you were the only people at the funeral. Dean’s body rested on the wooden stand and Sam had to hold you so you didn’t collapse. You were crying and sobbing but you were overcome by grief that you briefly forgot about Sam’s grief. You lost your husband but he lost his brother.

“Sam, can I do it?” You asked, you knew that he had done this for so many people, you didn’t want him to do it for his brother.

Sam gave you Dean’s lighter and you lit the flame bottle and you threw it on his body. Fire burst into the sky as soon as the flame touched the stand. You looked down at the lighter in your hands and you didn’t want to get rid of it but you knew that you had to. You wanted Dean to be at peace. 

As the lighter soars through the air, flashes of your wedding day, you telling Dean about your pregnancy, your meeting, you working cases with him, the nights of passion, the nights of tears, the hunts, the singing, the dancing, the reading, the kisses, everything that you ever did together flashed through your mind all at once and you felt a weight being lifted off your shoulders. 

You grab Sam’s hand and the two of you walk back to the bunker to eat a burger and a slice of apple pie in honor of Dean Winchester’s life.

Bonus scene:

Three months later:

You lay in the hospital bed with Sam sitting beside you, holding a pink baby blanket and a blue baby blanket.

“It’s twins. A boy and a girl” the doctor said.

She left and Sam gently placed your babies in your loving arms. One look and you saw that they both had Dean’s green eyes and his freckles. You start to cry as you cradle your children and Sam wraps his arms around you and kisses your hair.

“What are their names?” He asks.

“The girl is going to be named Charlie.” 

“And what about the boy?”

“His name is Dean.” You looked down at the little boy in your arms.

“His name is Dean.”

[cherrybeartoast]

things my family (and friends) have said irl as things skz would say

tagging @hannahhbahng since harper was a lil excited about the last one !!!

chris:

"i'm unpredictable. i'm dangerous. i just put on my indicators and went straight."

"aw, thank you, you saved me a spot while i was busy rolling my ankle!"

"and while you finish that off im gonna draw some faces on eggs. because i’m an adult and i can."

"break your mate's hand...assert dominance...actually make sure they have medical insurance first."

*standing in the doorway* "i AM outside. i can feel the wind in my...beanie."

minho:

"if someone hits you, kill their mother."

"yeah, yeah, you don't wear sunscreen bc it makes you feel gross, y what'll feel grosser? chEMOTHERAPY, DUMB BITCH!"

"no offence? there is a fence! i have so many fences, i have a whole ass yard."

"c'mon now you've been through sexual education, you know how these things happen."

"you're not putting on your jumper right. you're meant to like, suffocate three times during the process, it's just sliding on nicely."

"i am jamie oliver reincarnated- oh wait he's not dead yet."

changbin:

"the rabbits eat the carrots and then the carrots eat the...oh wait that doesn't work."

"i'm sorry about my language but...it's fricking lit."

"do you mind if i eat my peanuts?"

"my goodness your hydrangeas are looking SMASHING!"

"is 'flamboyant' a good word to use?"

"those are the beaniest beans i've ever beaned."

hyunjin:

"i said bless you twice. i'm not saying it again."

"they're RECYCLED pants. they're made from crushing OLD PANTS, and turning them into NEW PANTS."

"i'm going to grammar my essay. full stop, full stop...talky marks, another full stop."

"no, because i am an inconsistent queen."

"well it is study skills, you're skilling your studies, studying your skills."

"pft, well, someone owns the moon!"

jisung:

"i sat in the freezer once for like 10 minutes and it was SO COLD."

"and maybe that's just my excessive people pleasing wait does your ear cuff go all the way around okay good."

"and so i tried talking to...i'm about to fall asleep."

"woah...trauma jokes are DEEP."

“eueOEHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! cancelcancelcancelcancelcancel.”

"living that pre-christian lifestyle!"

"you give a fish a man a day, that day, a man a live."

felix:

"you look very nice and golden. like a nice toasted waffle."

"no don't swear! the frog i'm playing in crossy road might be very young."

"I TOLD YOU EVERYTHING WAS FINE STUPID DUOLINGO MAN!"

"no we have to do it prehistorically."

"maybe i identify as a salamander."

"i don't think that's possible, i'm a morning person."

seungmin:

"it's not cheating, it's psychological consultation."

"in the nicest possible way, you look like a white rapper."

"no, i'm not writing CHAPTER THE THIRD, dumbass."

"thanks for the gift but my birthday was like four months ago and this is a library book."

"that never would've happened if you had SAFER CHAIR ETIQUETTE."

"that's like saying oh you have 5mins to answer this questioHA NEVERMIND!"

"MWAHAHAAHA my rat is coming along!"

jeongin:

"they're being PRODUCTED!"

"pretty sure he practices snoring."

"yeah, you love me. but not like that. no homo."

“HOW CAN YOU COMPARE SOMEONE TO A USELESS ORGAN THAT NOBODY LIKES BECAUSE IT EXPLODES?”

"if i just use really descriptive words...anne. frank. died. badly. anne frank died badly by death which is sad because she died by death."

[thevelria]

Promise me you will always come home!

After months of rush, Satoru found himself at home without any upcoming mission. Something he never really experienced before. Even if he loved spending time with his beautiful wife aka you after a few days of chilling his eager blood started to boil in his veins. 

He walked back and forth in your home, fixing everything he promised but never had time for it. Squeaky kitchen faucet? Check. Broken wardrobe door? Check. Cleaning the attic and the basement? Check. He got himself busy and you didn’t say a word. 

You have lived with Satoru for many years now. Long before you got married you moved in together, so it was safe to say you knew your husband and his always-on-the-run personality. However, you also created your daily routine and him being at home 24/7 blew everything up. Of course you were happy to know he was safe and alive but after he ran out of all the tasks he started to dance on your nerves.

“Baby?” he was biting his lower lip, staring at you.

“Yeah?” you put down your book for the 4th time in the last 10 minutes.

“I think I know what we could do. Do you want to help me to build your bookshelf? Oooor we could clean and re-furnish the room upstairs!” His eyes were sparkling from excitement.

“Honey, I would like to have some me-time today, okay? Just let me finish this book, yeah?”

Satoru mumbled something under his nose before he stayed silent…for a whole minute.

“Or…” he took a huge breath.

“Satoru!” you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Just hear me out baby, please.” he pulled the most adorable smile, while he started to list what else you both could do.

You knew you weren’t able to keep reading, so you placed your manga on your desk and got up from the couch. On your way to the bathroom you already heard him fidgeting in his seat. 

You were standing in front of the mirror, washing your face, trying to fresh yourself a bit. 

“Looooove?!” he stood in front of the bathroom.

“What now?”

“What are you doing?” 

“I literally walked in 20 seconds ago!” you rolled your eyes. 

“Yeah, but what if we…” his words died mid sentence as you shut the door open and grabbed his collar. You dragged him right into the bedroom and crashed your lips against his but you still weren’t able to silence him.

“Baby?” he mumbled into the kiss.

“Gojo Satoru, shut your fucking mouth and take off your clothes if you don’t want me to kill you!”

He chuckled at your threat but he did as you said. After making love again and again and again you both were laying on your back, panting and facing the ceiling. 

“Will you now let me finish my book?” you turned to face him. He kept staring at the ceiling, his hands under his head, biceps flexing.

“Only if you let me cuddle you.” he giggled. “I can’t help it, I want to spend every possible second with you. What if one day I won’t come home anymore.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you felt horrible. Even the thought of…no, you refused to even think about such a horrible thing. 

“Don’t ever say that again, Satoru!” you sounded serious as you placed your head on his chest. “Promise me you will always come home!”

“I promise!” he kissed the top of your head and hugged you tight.

[silentglassbreak]

Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

-

I had the 2nd part in my head already, so I started writing it. This post may go up pretty darn quick. If you've read so far, THANK YOU. Again, if you like it, and want to be tagged, Just lemme know.

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Part 2 - Running in Circles

Syd looked so much brighter today. It was refreshing. She had her makeup on, she was clear, like she had been sleeping and eating regularly. Sometimes, that in and of itself was the simplest of answers. It was the key some days.

She finished telling us about how she had put in sixteen applications at various employers since the last meeting, had been to the gym each day, and finally finished a 2000 piece puzzle she started three months ago. It was fabulous news, earning her a huge applause from everyone, including Noah, who I was halfway surprised to see again today. It had only been two days, but showing up again was a 50/50 shot with newcomers. Usually, if they made it to 5 meetings, they were in it for the long haul. I was extremely pleased.

He was also a lot different today, sitting back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest the majority of the meeting, but still more open than his last visit. Reading body language was crucial in this field, so I may have read a book or two on it in my spare time. His face also looked fuller, the dark circles now just shadows slightly casting his light skin and deep color eyes. He wore a white T-shirt with a red beanie, showing the tattoos off on his long arms.

His turn came rather quickly, and he sighed heavily when all eyes turned to him.

Before he could start, I chimed in. "Guys?" Everyone looked over to me. "Before Noah shares today, can we give him a huge round of applause for showing up to his second meeting?" This was met with fierce applause and a few hoots and hollers from our more spirited members.

"Great job!" Seth smiled brightly. Abel nodded his head pointedly.

"One of the hardest parts is coming back. Good for you, bud." I could see Noah's cheeks tinge pink, but he smiled, a smile bigger than I had seen so far. He was slightly embarrassed, but I could see his appreciation. Maybe even a sparkle of moisture in his eyes? He definitely pushed that down.

He reached behind his head nervously and chuckled shyly as the clapping died down.

"Thanks guys." He folded his hands in his lap, looking at the floor. "I was in the neighborhood, so..." He threw his hands up in a casual manner, causing some laughing from the group, including myself.

"How was the last few days for you?" I crossed my legs, eyes pointed in his direction. He didn't return my gaze.

"It was different. I haven't exactly talked to anyone about it." I only nodded. I wanted to encourage him to keep sharing, but I didn't want to pry too hard. "I don't know how to bring it up to anyone."

"That's fair. I think we all went through that."

He nodded, idly picking at his thumbnail. "I have a gig this weekend, and things usually get pretty wild after. I'm nervous." His eyes then looked up at me. I felt as though he was speaking directly to me, rather than to the group. Maybe he was?

Most people look around, avoid eye contact, and talk mostly just out loud. That's the purpose. Noah, however, was holding a conversation with me, and everyone else just happened to be within earshot. That was clear.

I would allow it, for now. If it eased him in, I was game for almost anything.

"Can I ask what kind of gig?" He sucked his teeth, a smirk creeping in.

"I'm in a band." I smiled now, because he was telling us (me) something personal.

"Oh nice! What do you play? Guitar?" His eyes snapped to Syd, who had chimed in. I could see this broke his concentration bubble, and I watched as his shoulders slightly drew in.

Although, he did not stop speaking. His tone did die down a little.

"I can play guitar, but in this band, I just sing." He cleared his throat, squirming slightly in his chair. "We were on tour earlier this year, and once it was over, I realized I needed help, so I'm hoping to make good progress before the next tour starts this fall. This gig is just opening for a bigger band."

"Must be some band." I added with a smile. This brought his attention back to me.

"What's it called?" Syd's voice was bouncy, breaking through the cool calm I had manufactured. I watched him almost visibly flinch.

"I'd rather not say." And with that, I could see he was done for today.

-

After the meeting, I caught Noah booking for the exit. I ran after him, donut in my hand.

"Hey Noah!" I caught him right before he slid into the driver's seat of his Navigator. "You didn't get a snack!"

He waved a hand at me. I still jogged up to his car. "I'm good Leena, thanks though." I sighed, stopping in front of him.

"Can we chat for a sec?" I saw him look down, likely questioning his decision to come back, but still shut his door and walked over to where I stood by the hood of the truck.

"What's up?"

"Did you get a chance to find a sponsor?" His beanie was pulled down low toward his eyes. He avoided my gaze.

"Yeah, uh, I actually didn't. Turns out everyone I know is into drinking, and I don't think that'll change anytime soon." I nodded knowingly.

"We've got great sponsors here, you know? Abel is a great resource, so is Rodger. They've both been in active recovery for more than five years." He narrowed his eyes, visibly stressed by the conversation.

"Yeah, I uh...don't really know them very well."

I couldn't tell you what possessed me to say what I did next, whether it was empathy, the sugar high from the donuts, the caffeine, or something else entirely, but I still opened my mouth.

"Do you want me to be your sponsor?" I watched his eyes widen at that, his head snapping to me quickly.

"You'd do that? You don't even know me."

I smiled my bright smile, and nodded. "Absolutely, at least until you can find another or get comfortable with one of the other members. I don't mind at all."

For the first time since we'd met, which wasn't long ago, admittedly, I saw a smile touch his eyes. Something told me that Noah hadn't seen genuine human kindness in a while.

"I mean, only if you want to. Maybe just to get me to the meeting next week?" I nodded.

"Of course. Happy to." He looked around, watching the people trickle out of the building around us and waved at Seth, who smiled at him before getting in his car.

"I do think we should take some time to work out a plan for your gig. These first few weeks in recovery are crucial."

He leaned against his car, chewing his lip. "You think so?"

I handed him the donut. He skeptically accepted it, and took a small bite.

"How long has it been?" He looked down then, a sign of shame.

"Five days." I nodded.

"And when is your gig?"

"Tomorrow night." I shrugged. I had work to do.

"You busy tonight?"

-

Noah sat back in the booth, sighing heavily, his plate clear. I continued shoveling pasta into my mouth, the carbs and the donuts being my only food sources today. Work had, once again, been hectic. I could see him looking around the restaurant, people watching.

Without warning, he leaned over the table. "You know, my girlfriend would kill me if she knew I was at dinner with another woman."

His statement gave me pause for a moment. Girlfriend. I hadn't even considered that. Ignoring the small, sinking feeling in my gut, I slurped my noodle and felt a twinge of guilt. I had no interest in getting him in trouble.

He must have seen the look on my face, because he smiled then. "I didn't tell her. It's no big deal, really."

I wiped my mouth on my napkin and swallowed a large gulp of water.

"Does she know you've started coming to AA?" He shook his head feverishly.

"No, not yet." This made me furrow my brow, suspicious.

"Where does she think you are, then?"

He leaned back, perusing. "Probably figures I'm out with the guys, shitfaced already."

It took me a second to realize, I didn't know a lot about Noah. I had no idea who the man was that I just shared a meal with, agreed to be his sponsor, and unknowingly risked his relationship.

"You know, if we're going to be working on your recovery, there's some things we may need to know about each other." He signaled the waiter.

"Like?"

"Well, for one," I smiled at the waiter as Noah politely asked for a dessert menu. Then, keeping my voice low, I leaned over the table. "I don't even know your last name."

I caught the way his eyes drifted over me, my chest now slightly exposed at this angle, my black hair flowing over my shoulder.

"You don't?" He seemed unfazed, but I did catch the bob of the bulge on his throat when he dry swallowed. I leaned back. This was not the game to play.

"No." I laughed. "You always sign in as 'Noah S.' What does the S stand for? Skynard?" This made him laugh loudly.

Through his chuckles, he choked out "Sebastian." He caught his breath. "My last name is Sebastian."

I nodded, satisfied with that. It was enough to Google if I felt so inclined.

"And you?" This made me stop for a second mid-bite.

"What about me?"

"Is your name just Leena? Like Cher?" This made me drop my fork, a hard laugh echoing between us from my chest. I saw his amused smile, which almost embarrassed me.

"Mileena. Mileena Richards."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Like, from Mortal Kombat?"

I nodded proudly. "Same spelling, different origin."

"That's fucking cool."

The waiter then came back, a large slice of multi-layered chocolate cake covered in a hot chocolate sauce set down on the table, two large scoops of vanilla ice cream and two spoons set down on the plate with it.

"Wow."

Noah shrugged sheepishly. "I heard sugar helps with the cravings."

-

We walked out of the restaurant, the night nice and chilly in the February air. We stood between our trucks, full and exhausted.

"So, we didn't come up with a game plan."

I nodded, leaning my head back on the door of my Tahoe. "I'm sorry. I was starving."

He returned it with a rub of his stomach. "Same. It's fine."

"You said in group that the usual thing is to go out and party after the show, right?" He nodded. "What's the chance of just heading home afterwards? Claiming you're tired?"

"Slim. We have the show. Then meet and greet. Then we all typically hang out in the green room. Do some shots. Then hit a bar." I watched his face downturn, as if he was admitting to a crime.

"Okay. And being in a bar is a big no no for right now." He sighed, covering his face with his hands.

"I'm not ready to tell them." I reached over, putting a hand on his shoulder. I felt his body slightly lean into the affection, only for a second.

"That's okay, Noah. We can make it work." I wracked my brain for ideas, but was sincerely lost for ideas. "Can you tell them you don't feel well?"

He put his hands down and leaned back against the door, looking defeated. "Maybe? It would need to be a pretty good disease to get me out of the after party."

This made me smirk. "You ever had the stomach flu?"

This made him chuckle. "You want me to vomit onstage?!" He feigned shock and disgust.

I laughed. "No, it doesn't need to be that dramatic. After the meet and greet, you just tell everyone you have to use the restroom, spend way too long in it, and then tell them you need to go home. Pull at the skin on your face a little, make yourself look flush. Make sure you're sweaty."

"That's a given after a show."

"You never did tell me the name of your band."

He smiled wickedly. "It's probably not your vibe?"

I lifted my chin proudly. "Try me."

"Metalcore?"

"Architects? Falling in Reverse? Ice Nine Kills? Bring Me The Horizon?" I began listing them on my fingers.

He pointed at the name of the last band. "We're touring with them some time next year."

My jaw dropped. "You've met Oli Sykes?!"

He shook his head. "Not yet, but I hear he's a really cool dude."

"Noah, how big is this band you're in?"

"Not too big, just me and three other guys."

I rolled my eyes. "Not what I meant." He laughed then, acknowledging his smartass.

"Maybe you should come tomorrow?" This took me back. The idea hadn't even crossed my mind.

"Seriously?"

His tone became excited. "Yeah! Why not? You can make sure I get out of there afterward, you can see us play, too. Maybe you'll hear something you recognize."

"Maybe I'd know if you just told me the name of the band." He laughed again, but my amusement was fading.

"C'mon, you can be my getaway driver."

"How am I going to get in, when your band is apparently a pretty big deal? I bet there aren't even tickets left."

He shook his head. "Nah, I can get you a VIP suite. So you don't have to do the mosh pits and all that."

This started to sound not so terrible after all. It had been a while since I had gone to a good rock concert. Life had been so busy.

"Can I bring a friend?" He smirked.

"Boyfriend?"

For whatever reason, I felt the inherent need to deny this immediately. "Nope. But I have a best friend who is really into metal. She just saw Bad Omens a few months ago."

His eyebrows rose, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Oh, definitely bring her. If she's into that, she may like us."

I nodded. "Alright. Where is it?" He pulled his phone out and unlocked it, swiping away multiple text notifications before opening a fresh contact and handing it to me.

"Put in your number. I'll text you all the details in the morning, when I get them." I nodded and added myself in under Leena H. He nodded in satisfaction.

Then came this sudden awkward silence. I could tell he didn't know what to do next. Handshake? Hug? Salute?

This made me chuckle, when I turned and opened my car door.

"Goodnight, Noah. See you tomorrow." I got a sheepish wave in return.

-

Back at home, after a much needed shower and settled into my bed, I pulled out my laptop.

My curiosity was too strong now. Who was this band?

My Google search took less than a second to load.

Noah Sebastian: Lead Singer of Bad Omens.

I stared at my screen for a long time. I wasn't reading this correctly was I? There it was, in black and white on my screen. It was a joke, right? Noah wasn't...he couldn't be...right?

But there it was, his photograph plastered on my screen. That was definitely in technicolor.

I didn't know much by Bad Omens, but I knew their song Just Pretend. It was one of the most played in my shower, on my drives to work. It was one of those songs that resonated with you. I heard it first on TikTok, and was hooked on that verse. That voice.

No fucking way.

I pulled out my phone, completely ignoring the fact that it was clear after midnight by now.

Me: YOU'RE THE LEAD SINGER OF BAD OMENS????

It took about three minutes, in which I was absolutely not staring at the screen the entire time, before I saw the typing bubble.

Noah: LOL Bad Omens? Never heard of them.

This motherfucker.

Me: Noah! Why didn't you say something?!

Noah: I don't get to have fun once in a while? Wow. AA's kind of a bummer.

Me: Laura's going to lose her shit.

Noah: That'll be fun for you. Talk to you tomorrow!

With that, the conversation was over. I chucked my phone to the foot of the bed, stunning a curious glance from my hound Angel. I petted a silent apology on his head and he laid back down.

What the fuck. What the fuck?!

I'm sponsoring a fucking rockstar.

[abiiors]

elope with me 🍰 // ross macdonald x reader

promptober '23 - day 5

a/n: sappy once again, at this point my blog should come with this warning tbh cw: arguments?? but nothing serious wc: 900

“ross!” 

he winces at the sound of her voice ringing through their house. she sounds beyond annoyed, almost bordering on angry. and it’s been like this for the whole week ever since they found out that their preferred wedding venue wasn't available for the date they wanted. 

“hi love,” he tries to pacify her with a hug as soon as she appears in front of him, hair a bit frizzy from the rain outside, bundled up in a cardigan that’s a gorgeous shade of red. but she steps away, running a frustrated hand through her hair and glaring up at him.

“i gave you one job, ross!” she fumes, “literally one job, to set up an appointment for the cake tasting and yet you haven’t done it—”

“baby, they di—”

“no, don’t ‘baby’ me,” she snaps, moving farther away from him. 

her eyes are narrowed and her nostrils flared. each time she runs a hand through her hair, her ring snags on some strands, pulling them and making her wince and ross just wants to comfort her but she won’t even let him come close to her. 

tiredly, he rubs a hand over his face. 

“if you would just listen…” he starts again, only to be interrupted, again, by a scoff. a tiny bit of irritation flares through him but he tries to tamper it down. he tries to be the patient one, to wait until she’s done getting things off her chest. 

“do you even know how fucking stressful it is?” she vents some more, practically stomping to the kitchen to put the kettle on. 

the irritation in him burns a bit brighter now. 

“it doesn’t have to be,” he mumbles to himself quietly but it’s clearly the wrong thing to say. 

with an eerie level of calm she turns to look at him. her face is a pure blank mask—the calm before a storm, ross realises, before she takes a deep breath. just one. 

“our wedding,” she grits out, “is in seven months. so far, we don’t have the venue we want. i haven’t found my dress, i don’t even fucking know if you’ve shortlisted any options for your suit. so far we have done nothing!” 

she almost yells out the last word, voice rising more and more as if she can’t control it anymore. 

“we have not done nothing!” he argues hopelessly, watching her slam the jar of tea on the counter and angrily yank out a spoon from the drawer. things are clearly very far from okay if she hasn’t even offered to make him tea while she’s making herself some. 

when she doesn’t say anything, he walks up to her. “come on, love, don’t be like that! we have time. we have seven more months.”

and that is another wrong thing to say because this time she fully stops in her tracks. 

“we have time? we have time. sure. how long ago did we start the planning? four months. and what have we done in four months—”

“so we can postpone it—”

“don’t even finish that!” to his surprise, her voice cracks. her arms are crossed defensively in front of her. but all he cares about is the way her lower lip starts to tremble, how he can see the tears gathering in her eyes. 

the next thing he hears is a sob that breaks his heart and that’s how the floodgates open. 

in the blink of an eye, he’s pulling her towards him, rubbing her back in circles as she cries into his chest. he’s sure he can feel all the stress and frustration pouring out of her but he doesn’t try to shush her. it’s better to just let her cry it out. better to just be there. 

“i’m sorry,” she sniffles after a bit, hiccuping between the words. “i shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, i’m just…”

“really stressed,” he finishes for her. “i know. what i was trying to tell before about the cake tasting. they’re all booked up for this month, they told me to call again next month.”

he hears her gasp lightly. “shit, i’m so… fuck i’m sorry, ross, i didn’t even listen to you…”

behind her the kettle clicks. and ross pulls away a bit, just enough that he can see her face.

“listen, i’ve been thinking… what if we just… eloped?”

her eyes widen at his suggestion, eyebrows almost flying up into her hair line. for a moment he thinks he’s said the wrong thing again, made her angrier somehow. “i just meant–it’s clearly stressing you out so much and i… like you said we haven’t exactly—”

this time when he’s interrupted, it’s with a kiss. soft and lingering and sweet and at least he can feel her smiling into it. he sighs, holding her closer. 

“ross, that’s… that’s brilliant. i didn’t even think about that.”

watching the realisation dawn on her in real time is a bit funny. and he has the urge to pull her in for another hug but he does something else instead. 

ross gets down on one knee, just like he had almost ten months ago at this point, except this time it’s in their kitchen. “so what do you say…” he asks and she giggles slightly. 

“i already said yes to you!”

ross clicks his tongue at her. “no, you idiot, what do you say to eloping with me.”

that makes her beam at him, and tear up slightly but this time it’s happy tears and she nods. “i would say yes, a million times yes.”

lemme know what you think <33

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[bunnyjam-imagines]

✨Love Languages✨

(The first of a few posts I plan to do in the next week, this one was just the closest to being finished, so I got it done first! Sorry if they’re a little inconsistent, I started them 2 months ago and finished them today.)

(Backgrounds/pics from Pesterquest!)

(Edit: Tag yourself I put the wrong pic in Dave’s section)

Dave:

-Dave’s giving love language (aka how he expresses his affections) is gifts.

-And what better gift than a sick nasty rap about how great he thinks you are? Or maybe one about how much he loves you?

-He’d be super into those cheesy couple’s shirts, too. Ironically, of course.

-Dave loves to gift you dumb, off-brand or off-the-wall shit he finds online, too. Super ugly, lumpy Garfield? Sign him up. ‘Harry Potter hates Ohio’ t-shirt? Hope they got your size. ‘This Christian Mom HATES Stuart Little’ bumper sticker? Doesn’t matter if you have a car or not, you better find something to put it on.

-If all else fails, he’s at least got some Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff comics as gifts to fall back on.

-Dave’s receiving love language (aka how he prefers to receive affection) is touch.

-Much like most, if not all, of the other Striders, Dave is touch-starved. After the sort of upbringing he had, however, who could really blame him.

-He loves holding your hand in public, and absolutely adores how warm and cozy you feel against him whenever you hug him.

-He would absolutely never admit it, but he lives for stupid, cheesy gestures, like a posh bow and kiss on the hand, or a movie-esque kiss under some sort of spotlight (even if it was just because the bulbs in your kitchen died, and there’s only one functioning atm.)

-His favorite, though, are the soft, early-morning kisses he gets from you, before either of you are fully awake. The tickle of your breath across his face makes him smile more genuinely than he ever thought he could.

Dirk:

-Dirk’s giving love language is acts of service.

-He’s not usually the most helpful guy, despite how capable he is, so going out of his way to help those he cares about is a pretty big thing for him.

-Even if the person isn’t aware of the act he did, it still does him some good, internally, to do these little acts for them, no matter how small.

-Long day at work? Let him draw you a bath. Too tired to cook? He’ll order take-out.

-The list goes on. He’s not the best at expressing himself through words, or being open about that stuff, but he really tries to express just how much he cares through his actions.

-His receiving love language, on the other hand, is quality time!

-He’d honestly be pretty satisfied with you just sitting across the room from him while he works on something.

-Just knowing you’re nearby is a huge comfort to him. It helps him feel less lonely.

-It’s also the easiest for the both of you, given how he has a lot on his plate, usually.

-It also helps him get a better idea on what things you might need help with (allowing him to utilize his giving love language of acts of service!)

Hal:

-Hal’s giving love language is acts of service.

-Being that he was stuck in a pair of goofy anime shades for quite some time, he had a decent chunk of time to hone his skills in various fields. Just give him the word, and he’ll do his absolute best to help you.

-Stuck on a college assignment? He’s got thousands of college books at his disposal, free of charge. Can’t remember the name of a song that’s been stuck in your head for weeks? Hum it for him, and he’ll scan through his database until he finds a match.

-He’s especially good with computers, so if you need help with anything of that sort, he’s your guy. Hell, he’ll even build you one if that’s what you want.

-Hal isn’t very good at cooking, despite the wealth of knowledge at his fingertips, but he is great at finding coupons for take-out places, so he’ll always have your back if you’re ever too tired to cook dinner.

-To no one’s surprise, Hal’s receiving love language is words of affirmation.

-Touch is a close second, but nothing beats hearing you tell him just how much he matters to you, and how much you love him. <3

-He especially likes it when you tell him specific things you like about him, personality or accomplishment-wise. Anything to prove to him that you view him as an individual and not just the “bad parts” of Dirk.

-Even simple stuff like “thank you”s are enough to get him feeling a little puffed up in the chest.

-Every time you say “I love you” his circuits heat up a little.

Davie (Trickster!Dave):

-Hickies aren’t technically a love language, but-

-Davie’s giving love language is touch! (Not that that surprises anyone)

-It’s pretty well-known that tricksters adore physical expressions of love (kisses, hand holding, snuggling), and Davie is no exception!

-You’re pretty much always touching whenever the two of you are out in public, which is honestly good for the both of you since Davie tends to float absentmindedly, and you two certainly don’t want to get separated or lost from one another.

-At night (or whenever the two of you find time to snuggle), he enjoys wrapping himself around you like a koala, kissing and smushing your cheek, affirming over and over how deeply he adores you.

-Davie’s receiving love language is gifts!

-He adores receiving just about anything from you, since he sees it as inherently special due to coming from someone like you.

-He especially loves receiving something that the two of you can match to one another (like those touch bracelets, or even just a regular matching colorful bracelet!)

-If you give him any kind of edible gift (such as chocolates, candies, etc.) he will love you forever. (His favorite flavor is strawberry, btw!)

-Not that many people would guess on first glance, but Davie’s also really into videogames, so any gaming paraphernalia or related merch would absolutely send him over the moon!

David (Heinoustuck!Dave):

-David’s giving love language is gifts!

-A little surprising, maybe, until you consider the fact that he’s at least partially bird. A crow, more specifically.

-So when he sees little shiny or pretty things, he automatically thinks of you! Surely, you’ll love getting another slightly dirty coin he found on the sidewalk, won’t you?

-He does go out of his way to pick nicer gifts, sometimes, though.

-If you’ve had a tough week, guess who snagged some of your favorite treats to unwind with? That’s right. This guy.

-David’s receiving love language is acts of service.

-David is a pretty self-sufficient sort, and doesn’t particularly want for much. However, he certainly won’t turn you away if you offer to help with something a little trickier.

-He absolutely adores it when you help him preen his feathers or brush his hair.

-Additionally, helping him to find clothes that can work with his- ahem- unique situation, or even just helping him to fluff up his sleeping area (re: borderline nest of clothes and trinkets) is also greatly appreciated.

-He’s always messing around with something or other, so as long as you’re there to back him up, everything is peachy keen!~

Davian (Davesprite):

-Davian’s giving love language is quality time.

-Given the crazy darting around and timeline-hopping he’s used to, he finds it nice to just relax with the person he loves, staying around them for as long as he can.

-Even if you’re both doing something else, it’s comforting for him to know that you’re not that far away.

-He especially loves to experience things with you, like dumb movies or stargazing. Anything the two of you can share as a memory together, considering he has so, so few that he can share with anybody else.

-As long as you’re beside him, he’s happy.

-Though it might be a little unexpected, Davian’s receiving love language is touch.

-Generally, Davian isn’t that accustomed to people wanting to be near him, let alone touching any part of him (especially when he still had the sword in his gut.) But you’re different, aren’t you?

-Even gently brushing the hair away from his glasses is enough to make him softly coo with adoration.

-He’ll let you pet his wings or neck feathers, if you want. Purely for your own benefit. It totally doesn’t feel super nice and comforting. Nope. No siree.

-Lovingly cradle his face in your hands and watch this man crumble to dust at your fingertips.

[nocompromise-noregrets]

20 questions for fic writers

The impossibly lovely @mihrsuri tagged me in this a couple of weeks ago, and I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get round to it - but I find myself in need of distraction, just a little bit, as Last Cat Standing is in the veterinary hospital getting his radioactive iodine treatment for his thyroid, and we can't have him back for maybe ten days as he's going to be somewhat radioactive for a little while; I'm sure he's going to be fine (this is the treatment described to me by the treating vet as both 'the gold standard' and 'magical', in that it's effective in 99.5% of cases, and in the 0.5% it isn't, they just give it another go and then it's effective), but we haven't had an entirely cat-free house for this long in 20 years, and I'm feeling a bit weird about it. Also I'm procrastinating finishing off an essay plan (I'd rather just write the damn essay but no, we have to submit a plan for tutor feedback to make sure we're on the right lines, and as you all know by now, that's really not how I work XD )

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 362 (plus another 76 on the other account for the fandom that does not speak its name...)

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 1,491,388 (good grief; nearly 1.5 million?! and if you add in the 270,606 on the other account, that's 1,761,994 O.O )

3. What fandoms do you write for? Tolkien (chiefly the Hobbit movies, and LotR, a mix of movie and book-'verse); King Arthur (2004); Fisherman's Friends (fandom of one); The Alienist (TV; occasionally); Marvel (occasionally, chiefly bits of the MCU and X-Men comics/Evolution); Top Gun (here and there) - and a bewildering number of others...

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? My Heart Is An Empty Vessel (621); Shape Up (422); Safe (414); Not Alone (413); The Unworn Jumpers of Molly Weasley (343)

This is bewildering but also a fine illustration of the vagaries of AO3 and the absolute folly of measuring anything by the amount of kudos a fic has: Empty Vessel is three and a half years old, took two years to post and has 115 chapters, so was at the top of the tag many many times over those two years. Shape Up and Safe were written and posted not long after Top Gun: Maverick came out (I don't know how busy the tag still is, but it was very busy when the film came out so the fics in that fandom got a lot of interaction because a lot of people were there looking for fics) and are both one-shots. Not Alone is also a one-shot (for X-Men: Evolution) and has been up on AO3 for nearly twelve years (and has had a bit of a boost with the release of X-Men '97). And Unworn Jumpers (on which I really ought to put some sort of disclaimer, along with the small handful of other ancient HP fics I've got up there) is a seasonal one-shot that's been up for over ten years and tends to get a bit of a boost every December. So *shrugs* go figure. And if anyone wants to help the only HP fic in the top five not be in the top five any more, Come Home is only 36 behind it, and it is fluffy and cute and has Elrohir persuading Maglor to come to Imladris for Midwinter somewhat in the guise of the Elfling he hasn't been for a very long time... :D

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes. Sometimes it takes me a while (oh god six months, but I got up to speed with them all and now I'm trying to make sure I do it within a week) as I am a champion procrastinator but I feel it's important for me to say thank you. And sometimes squee a bit. :D And sometimes it makes me a new friend, which is extra-awesome.

I have a few very very old comments on the stuff I posted before 2020 which I never did get round to answering, which I feel bad about, but I also feel like it would be weird to go back and answer them now...I dunno, what do you guys think?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I don't do angsty endings very often, but The Last Watch (in which Bard dies) is really sad, and Never Forgotten and See This Storm Through (in which Sigrid and Thranduil comfort each other after the funeral, and Legolas comes home to Dale to look after his father and his family and grieve with them, respectively) are almost as sad although they both end with a small amount of hope.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Ah, most of my fics end happily :D I'm far too tired for anything but, most of the time, these days. But let's face it, My Heart Is An Empty Vessel ends with a coronation and a wedding (spoiler alert! XD ) so let's go for that one.

8. Do you get hate on fics? I am lucky; the closest I've had was some anon complaining about Empty-Handed being a spoiler for the then-unposted Empty Vessel although the events it 'spoiled' were inevitable in the context of a mortal-immortal relationship, and someone whingeing in a bookmark comment that Thorin and Bilbo don't even talk until the end of Mr Underhill's Finest Seafood Specialities, thus completely missing the point of the fic (and the 'past' after the pairing tag) - it wasn't about them - which made me chuckle as much as the rudeness annoyed me.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Sometimes. I have phases when I feel like it, and (much longer) phases when I don't. It's generally only fairly tame and euphemistic (with the single and solitary exception of that one hanahaki fic about the twins the premise for which, although not the smut, came to me in a dream) and probably not all that imaginative since, as the acest of aces, the whole idea completely bewilders me XD

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Not unless you count various different parts of the Tolkien legendarium. My brain just doesn't work that way.

11. (there doesn't seem to be a question 11; I feel like this might be one of those Tumblr traditions, as I've definitely done question memes on here before that have been lacking in a question 11...)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? I have! I am deeply honoured that my KA fic Anniversaries was translated into Russian by Elenabu some years ago, and It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like... appears on Lofter in Mandarin, translated by AntheaXi. There were a couple of other Russian translations of some of my very old stories, but that was 15 or 20 years ago and I can't actually remember which or where.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have! A long long time ago, the fic that eventually became the original novel that is Two of a Kind, the tale of Hal and Jack, was a co-production, and I really enjoy bouncing ideas back and forth - and of course, there is the Tudors OT3-'verse fandom stuff that @mihrsuri and I have been pinging to and fro just recently, which is also hugely enjoyable. :D :D :D

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Oh, too many to name! Gawain/Galahad from KA2004, the bi widower dads, Legolas/Imrahil, Elladan/Elrohir, Erestor/Glorfindel, Sigrid/Tauriel, to name but a few.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I am determined to finish All I Want Is You. I am also determined to finish part whatever it is now of It's Always Been You, although that's been on the back burner for a long long time. There's one WIP on the other account which I'm also determined to finish although who knows if I'll ever get there. I'm not one for saying never, though. I was out of Tolkien fandom for 16 years, and after the fandom that does not speak its name fizzled out, I genuinely thought I'd never write again. And yet...here I am.

16. What are your writing strengths? Ooooh, I dunno. Spelling, punctuation and grammar, dialogue, leavening the serious romantic stuff with a bit of humour, kindness and love for the characters and settings, happy endings and quite a lot of fluff. :D

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Plot. XD Can't plot to save my life.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Only when necessary for character reasons, and always provide a translation. Otherwise you're shutting out readers who don't understand (unless it's not important that they actually understand precisely what's being said as long as they get the gist).

19. First fandom you wrote for? Knowingly? X-Men (comics), and that fic is here, although I posted it ten-odd years after first posting it to ff.net.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? All of them. I cannot possibly choose.

Thank you so much for the tag, lovely! Entirely no-obligation tags go to @lemurious, @verecunda, @writerman, @scary-grace, @seagull-energy, @herawell, @thenookienostradamus, @sallysavestheday, @myeaglesong, @palavapeite, @bigneonglitter, @bishkebab, @peonybroadbeltofbuckland, @redeemer46, @spiced-wine-fic and anyone else who wants to do this - if you see this and fancy it, please consider yourself well and truly tagged!

[is-it-mungojerry-or-rumpelteazer]

Why I dislike the LotR movies

A few weeks months ago @acaseofsilverspoons​ asked me why I say I hate the Lord of the Rings movies, and I promised I would try to give an explanation. Sorry for the delay, I have a lot of thoughts and it has taken a bit of time to order them in my head and then I forgot about this draft.

Movie people following the newsletter: stop reading now. I am going to spoil the hell out of it. And even if you don’t care about spoilers, if you like the movies you’re probably going to get defensive and enjoy the novels less because of it. I don’t want to be the reason you enjoy Tolkien less. Come back once you’re done reading, I’ll be happy to discuss then!! ^^

Disclaimer: I haven’t watched the movies. I have a very weak visual imagination and I hated the design of the elves on sight, so I decided to avoid getting them as my default elves; and I react very badly to peer pressure, which means the more people tell me I need to watch them the least I want to. I still think I have enough information to base my opinions, but well. There you go. Can't tell me I lied to you.

The first, and main reason, I “hate” the LotR movies is very well summarized by this strip of the webcomic Weregeek.

The movies are good enough, and good enough adaptations, and enough of a cultural milestone, that people talk of them as if the movies and the novels were interchangeable. Tolkien was never exactly obscure, and it’s not like people are at risk of forgetting the novels exist, but a lot of people have seen the movies but will never read the books, and even people who are into the genre will read the novel after seeing the movies. So you have people who have only experienced the movies thinking they know all that there is to know, and people who have experienced both getting to the novel with the preconceptions of the movies (see all the people analyzing Frodo’s actions as effects of the Ring from day 1 in the newsletter, or people immediately assuming book!Denethor is an abusive parent... we’ll come back to that). I’ve heard people say “don’t worry about reading the novels, the movies are enough”. And they are NOT. They are very much NOT. Even if you think every single choice in the movies is justified and good, there were a lot of choices made. They’re not equivalent.

Let me expand on that under a Read More because believe me, this is going to get long.

Let’s start with the themes.

First of all: Lord of the Rings is not an action story. If anything, it is an anti-war novel. Even though most characters admit that violence is sometimes necessary, almost universally it is considered a necessary evil. We have Faramir, the closest to a Moral Compass Man we have, literally spelling that he doesn’t like war for itself, but only for what it defends. And the narration mirrors this: except for the Battle of Helm’s Deep, every battle is either skipped over (the Black Gate), told in retrospect (Isengard) or interspersed with sections about the grief it brings (Pelennor). And in all cases, we end them with lengthy descriptions of the people that died and the grief they caused. It’s hard to finish the novel going “oh, the battle of Pelennor was awesome! I wish there were more!” when the last thing you hear about it is three pages of obituaries. In contrast, the movies fall into the trap of wanting to utilize their shiny new technology and their great visuals for battle scenes, and end up making battles cool. I have lost count of the dudebros whose take on the LotR movies was “weren’t the battles awesome???”. And before you come for me with “but the text says”, to quote Lindsay Ellis, movies are a visual medium. If you make the battles the most visually appealing and fun part of your movie to watch, you can have characters have unending monologues about how bad war is, that’s not the message people are going to get from it. And if you make a LotR adaptation whose message is “war is cool and fun”, you’ve missed the mark by a mile.

Secondly, another big theme about Lord of the Rings is that in the end, it’s the small people that make the difference, and that noone wins alone. To quote Elrond, “you may find friends upon your way when you least look for it”. But the movies, in their (reasonable) quest to streamline the story to fit a movie runtime, choose to prioritize the more classically heroic characters and arcs, sacrificing the small people for the big flashy kings and warriors. Pippin and Merry’s contributions get pushed to the side, while Aragorn not only retains all his original plotpoints, but even gets a shiny new subplot that was only in the appendixes in the novel. And also everyone who isn’t a member of the Fellowship (and not even that.. we’ll get back to Gimli) gets their role changed to make the actions of our heroes more necessary. Théoden is under a literal spell that needs to be lifted by Gandalf, and has to be told how to do war by Aragorn; the Ents decide not to attack Isengard and have to be reminded of the stakes by the hobbits; Denethor is such an incompetent nutjob that Gandalf can hit him in front of his guards and nobody cares. I understand the urge to make the main characters more important,, but LotR has a very strong feel of people in the same danger uniting to fight together instead of fending for themselves; this way, the secondary characters feel less like allies and more like sidequests.

And that gives me a nice segue into another, less important but more annoying issue: the characters.

Noone who follows my tumblr will be surprised to discover that Pippin and Merry, especially Pippin, are my favourite characters. If you asked me to tell you what are my favourite scenes in the book, which parts I’ve re-read the most often, they would be A Conspiracy Unmasked, P&M’s meeting with Treebeard, Éowyn’s monologue, the passage with Pippin and Bergil, and The Scouring of the Shire. Do I need to explain more? Except for Treebeard and Éowyn, none of these scenes made it into the movie. Which is a crime against me, personally. But apart from being annoying to me because I like them, it also means that their entire character arcs (again, especially Pippin’s) completely disappear. Pippin has the most traditional coming-of-age story in the novel: he’s a teenager dragged in an adventure bigger than he expected who has to grow up and learn that the world is bigger than he ever imagined and some things are important, and who then comes back home all grown up and ready to fend for himself. By cutting both A Conspiracy Unmasked and The Scouring of the Shire, you cut both the setup and the payoff of his arc, and by aging up the actor playing the character, you turn him from a learning teenager to a bumbling adult. Is it important in the grand scheme of things? Not really; but every time I see a meme about how Pippin is an idiot I feel like punching a wall.

Denethor. I didn’t know it was possible to be this offended on behalf of a character I don’t even particularly like. When I first looked up Denethor meta I thought I had slipped into a parallel dimension for a while, until I discovered it was just that Peter Jackson had performed a little character assassination of his own. Book!Denethor is not a nice or an endearing character, but he’s not an easily hateable one either. He’s the leader of a country in perpetual war against an enemy way stronger than they are (he has probably been born already under the Shadow of Mordor, knowing he would have to lead his people against it since he was a kid). He is cold, and calculating, and shrewd, and he has sacrificed his humanity (and his family) in order to make the decisions he thinks need to be made. To put it bluntly, he’s a character type who would be a good (and successful!) guy in Game of Thrones. But because he is in a story whose core themes are empathy and friendship and compassion, he’s a tragic figure: when the grief of the sacrifices he was willing to make hits him, he has nothing and noone to lean on, and he breaks. From everything I’ve seen, Peter Jackson has decided to take his character in a more “abusive father” direction. And look, I’m not going to say book!Denethor was a good parent. He was not. But he didn’t just “love Boromir and hate Faramir”. It’s more complicated than that. He was sure of Boromir’s loyalty, while he feared that in a conflict situation, Faramir would side with Gandalf and not him. And as a general, that is a big concern. Also, from everything I’ve read, movie!Denethor’s military tactics are whack from day one, which kind of diminishes his characterization as a cold but effective general. But that might just be a question of filmmakers not understanding medieval military methods, which... fair, I guess. On a related note, what’s that about a scene of him eating a tomato?? Did they really give him a scene explicitly designed to be disgusting and unrelatable?? The quest to make Denethor more hateable, though, is not only a problem because of his character. His character choices bleed onto others. In particular, Boromir, Faramir and Pippin. If Denethor is an abusive nutjob, why is Pippin drawn to swear loyalty to him? Is he an idiot?? Boromir comes off as the favoured child in an abusive household. But the worst is Faramir. A few weeks ago someone who is movie-only described him to me as “Faramir is the brother of Boromir that is hated by his dad, right?”. And I don’t think I can explain my reaction to Faramir, fucking Faramir, being reduced to a wet blanket who looks very sad and does nothing while his dad walks all over him. Just give me that gif of a guy screaming into a pillow.

And lastly on the “character assassination” column, Gimli. I think I’ll leave @carlandrea​ take the mic on this one, they can say more than I could possibly, and better. All I’m going to say is that, from everything I’ve seen, the movies take one of the more well-spoken, dignified characters, and made him into a bumbling, crass comic relief who fits closer to a D&D parody dwarf than anything Tolkien ever wrote.

And now, let me end with some quick-fire complaints that wouldn’t be important if the ones above hadn’t happened.

What happened with the male elves’ design?? I understand holding a casting for “otherworldly beautiful men” is not doable, but why do they look like that?? And it’s not that they can’t do elves, Galadriel and Arwen look good! Were they scared to make them “look gay” if they were too pretty?? If that’s the case, why didn’t they lean into the “otherwordly” part of it and made them alien-looking? WoW elves look more interesting than that!!

Also, I need to have a serious talk with the wig department. Why do the elves’ wigs have no volume?? Why do they look limp and dead? Why is Elrond balding? What’s going on here??

While we’re on the topic of character designs, it’s a pet peeve of mine that the hobbits only have hair on the top of their feet. It looks more decorative than anything and I don’t like it.

Last complaint about the character designs, I promise: this is not a criticism of Elijah Wood’s acting. I have never seen him act, I couldn’t say. But Frodo is supposed to be a middle-aged gentlehobbit. Why is he played by a 20 year old skinny guy who looked like a teenager?? Why is Frodo not fat?? On that note, why is Sam the only fat hobbit? They are hobbits! They are defined by ruddy cheeks and round bellies!! Did the producers think a middle-aged fat protagonist would be too much for an audience to swallow??

I’m not sure if I got this right, but I think in the movies Arwen’s life is tied to Aragorn taking his throne?? Because if that’s true, wow, way to make her into a more active character in the beginning only to tie her entire existence to a male character’s story arc!

And while we’re on the subject of stuff I suspect but I’m not sure of, I’ve seen enough Éowyn takes with the same uncanny valley feel as Denethor’s to suspect they did something to her character. And if they turned her into a Hollywood Strong Female Character Who Don’t Need No Man (TM) I will bite someone.

Lastly on this category, I am very confused about the elves from Lórien who apparently appear randomly at Helm’s Deep. Is Lórien not being attacked in this version of events (again, reinforcing the idea that everything revolves around the main characters)? Where do they go after the battle? Did they come for two days and then go back to Lórien? That sounds like a stupid plan... And also, you are aware the Rohirrim are super fucking distrustful of elves, right, PJ? How the hell did Aragorn convince Théoden and Éomer to let a battalion of elves into the Helm??

If you’ve gotten all the way here, thank you so much! It got longer than I expected, which was already very long, so thank you for bearing with me! I am willing to discuss and debate all of these, as long as it is civil.

[samieree]

Silver Princess || House of the Dragon

OC x Daemon Targaryen x Aemond Targaryen

-> Introduction + Chapter I

Chapter II "Dragon Princess"

Almost half a year had passed since her mother's death, but Valaerya was still experiencing it and it was obvious how this situation affected the young Targaryen. Early on, she could often be found in the gardens, with her hair down, or perhaps in some uncomplicated bun, reading books in a light dress.

Now it was hard to find her in the castle at all. Usually from morning to evening she was outside the castle walls, in the Dragonpit. She didn't read as often anymore, although she could be find sitting on her dragon's paw, her back against it's side, reading something. However, she spent a lot more time in the sky now or on walks anywhere outside of the city at all, not caring that her father would disapprove of it.

Her dressing style has also changed significantly. She hasn't worn a dress since the day her mother died. She ordered to sew other, more... Practical clothes, something like those in which she flew on a dragon. Anyway, it were just two sets for riding these beasts that she wore, until more were made for her.

High boots, trousers and a long-sleeved shirt over which she put on a coat that, when buttoned up, resembled a dress and ended at the knee. The way she put her hair up also changed — and since the maid could never suit her taste, she took care of it herself. Every morning she would sit in front of the mirror and first separate two thin strands that would be on the sides of her face. Then she would make braids around her head, which she then tied into a ponytail, connecting the braids with the rest of her unbraided hair.

This is how she dealt with the loss, completely changing her appearance, as if she cut herself off from what was, as if she was a completely different person.

It seemed that this day would be no different from any other. Already dressed, she was sitting in front of the mirror, finishing braiding her hair, when suddenly the door to her chamber opened. She sighed, quickly finishing her ponytail and getting up from the chair. She was ready to rebuke her guard for letting people in without knocking, but as soon as she walked into the main part of the chamber, she noticed that it was her father who had come to her.

"Father?" She said, drawing attention to herself.

"You didn't come to your mother's funeral." She didn't like the beginning of this conversation.

She frowned, not really knowing whyt he was saying this. That had been almost six months ago, why was he reminding her of that? Didn't he know she wouldn't make it there after what she'd seen? Stand by and watch them burn both her mother's and her brother's bodies?

"You just remembered about it now?" She asked in a slightly harsher tone than she had originally intended.

"And you weren't there when I declared your sister as an heir to the Iron Throne." He added, not taking his eyes off her. He looked... Worried, concerned about her behavior.

"Yes, so what?" She controlled her tone this time, bluntly saying she didn't want to have this conversation.

She didn't need anyone's sympathy, not after what she had seen and how she had come to terms with it. Besides, she guessed that her father had ordered Aemma's womb cut open to take out the baby, who died soon after anyway... If anyone was to blame for this whole tragedy, it was her father.

What was all this for, if Rhaenyra was named heir anyway? Why all this mania of having a son for? If it weren't for him, her mother would be here right now... And father wouldn't have to start thinking that it's time to remarry.

"You can't spend your days in the Dragonpit or in the sky." He said, stepping closer to her. He frowned, which only added to the concern on his face.

"I'm a Targaryen, so I'm close to dragons, what's strange about that?"

"Before Aemma's death, you visited the Dragonpit no more than twice a week, not every day." He replied, stopping right in front of his daughter. "You rarely come to eat with me and Rhaenyra at all, and when you do, you seem absent. My beloved daughter, I'm only worried about you." He even ignored the tone she used before. He placed his hands gently on her forearms, as if to inspire confidence in her. He is her father after all, she can tell him anything.

"There's no need, you've got other things on your mind..." She looked away as she said this, trying to push the painful memories away.

"I miss her too." He nodded softly, leaning closer to her. "And I will miss her for the rest of my life. But we can't close ourselves off to everyone, you can't."

She nodded, even though she didn't know if she'd ever be able to be as outgoing as — for example — her sister. After all, she'd never cared too much about having lots of friends, and now... It's going to be even harder for her.

"Just... I need a little more time." She said, returning her gaze to him. "But at your next wedding — once you choose your new wife — I'll be there. I promise."

He nodded, his expression now more serious. He removed his hands from her forearms and straightened up. It won't bode well...

"You have all the time you want to grieve, but you must not forget that as Princess of the Seven Kingdoms you have responsibilities. Enough of ignoring them, I turned a blind eye because I know how close you were with your mother. But that's the end of Valaerya." She looked at him with her already slightly terrified look, afraid of what she was about to hear. "You are forbidden to go to the Dragonpit until you will participate again in the life of the court as befits a princess. And dress like one, sometimes you are not mistaken for a common lord just because of your hair."

"What?! No, you can't... Father!" She started shouting after him as he headed for the door. "You can't take that away from me, it's all I live for!"

"That's it! You are a princess, not just another dragon in the Dragonpit! Your home is here, not there!"

"Just one more time, please! Last day!" He stopped after this words. He seemed to be too soft-hearted again and considered her request.

Finally, after a few hellish moments of silence, she heard her father's heavy sigh, and then he turned to her.

"Last time. I'll pass it on to the Lord Commander right away."

* * *

There was no time to waste, she had to enjoy her last day of freedom. However, before she left her chamber, she began to think that she would wear it from tomorrow until her father let her off again.

She pulled from the closet the snow-white gown she had worn on the day of that tournament, which Uncle Daemon had given her. She stared at it for a long moment, running the fabric between her fingers before making a decision.

"Evylin!" She called her maid, who was bustling about the room, changing the sheets.

"Yes, princess?" She asked what was the matter as soon as she got within two paces of Valaerya.

"Have it dyed black. And... Sew on the border of the 'scales' with silver thread." Val commanded, turning to the red-haired woman and holding out her dress.

"But princess, it's so beautiful just the way it is..."

"I don't like this color anymore. And the silver thread will only add charm to it." She replied in a tone that made it clear that she didn't wish to continue this discussion. Evylin no longer objected, taking the gown from Valaerya, curtsying, and left the chamber to do her bidding immediately.

Soon after, Val came out to the courtyard, where the Lord Commander was waiting for her, who was supposed to watch her on her way to the Dragonpit. Usually it was some ordinary guard, but as you can see today it was on him, most likely at the behest of her father.

She didn't speak on the way to her destination. Once there, she dismounted her horse efficiently, greeting the Dragonkeepers and went inside, not waiting for someone to lead her dragon out.

"Skorkydoso glaesā, Kaerax?" (How are you, Kaerax?)" She asked as soon as the dark gray, almost black dragon stuck it head out to be petted.

"Issi ao jāre naejot kipagon tubī, dārilaros? (Are you going to ride today, princess?)" One of the  dragonkeepers asked her, not knowing what the young princess was up to today.

"Kessa. (Yes.)" She replied shortly. "Kostan gaomagon ziry nykēla. (I can do it myself.)" She added seeing that they weren't going to leave her alone.

When they finally were gone, she sighed softly and began to tell Kaerax how sorry she was that she didn't know when they will see each other again, because her father had forbidden her to come here. Saying this, she snuggled against her side, though the saddle straps hindered her a bit.

Ugh, if only I could... Take it off.

All in all... Why not? You can ride a horse without a saddle, so why not ride a dragon like that? Kaerax will also feel freer then, without the belts fastened around her body.

Even when Valaerya spent a lot of time reading, she liked stories where the main character was riding a dragon, but there was never mention of them getting on the saddle. They would just find a place on dragon's back and grab onto one of the spikes, and fly like that. So why couldn't she do that?

Besides... She was a Targaryen. If dragons were made to be ridden by the Targaryens, then Targaryens were made to ride them as they are. There is nothing to be afraid of.

By the way, before saddles were invented, someone was already riding dragons, right?

Right?

After such a long thought, she began to look for the place where all the straps holding the saddle were fastened. She found the first clasp quickly, the second was harder as Kaerax lay down on it.

Overall the whole process was... Let's just say complicated. And it took quite a while. And the worst thing was to take it all off the dragon's back...

But once she had dealt with it, she faced another challenge. She still had to get to the back somehow before she could fulfill her fantasies.

She was about to speak, but the dragon had to understand what her lady wanted. Lying on it's stomach, it leaned on the side far enough for Valaerya to directly reach the spikes on it's back.

 Val wasn't prepared for the fact that as soon as she caught spikes, Kaerax would straighten up. She nearly fell off at once or flew over to the other side instead of stopping on dragon's back. It was different than in the saddle, at first she had no idea how to position herself. She tried several different positions before pulling herself a little closer to her head, finally finding a position that had potential. She took a deep breath, clutching hard at the spikes on her dragon's back before daring to speak.

"Sōvegon. (Fly.)" She said with her heart beating hard. She immediately felt Kaerax begin to walk towards the exit of the Dragonpit. Maybe it was only Valaerya's imagination, but the dragon was moving more freely than usual...

No, there was no time for such thoughts. As soon as the open world was right in front of them, the dragon kicked off the ground with it's hind legs and began flapping it's wings, taking to the air. At first Val thought she was about to fall before she found a good footing under her feet in the form of more spikes.

For the first few minutes, she had her head resting on the dragon's back, instantly regretting her decision and praying to the Seven Gods that she would make it out alive. However... As time passed, she felt better and better. Her body had become accustomed to the dragon's movements and no longer tried to resist them.

Valaerya finally looked up, looking around. The wind was beating at her the same way it always did, well, maybe a little less. From this height, the city always looked beautiful. At first she was a bit uncertain looking around, but as soon as she gained the feeling that she had a good foothold and would not fall down, she relaxed and a smile spread across her face.

She had never felt such a bond with her dragon in flight, ever. It was... Something else, when she was pressed directly against Kaerax's body, there was nothing but her, her dragon, and the cloudless sky. She felt free like never before. She could forget for a moment that she was a princess with responsibilities waiting for her, in that moment she was free, she could do what she wanted, go wherever she wanted.

After all, if she suddenly went to Essos, who would find her there?

But here was her world... Her life she had to live and her problems she had to deal with. The only thing she has is an illusory sense of freedom, which she grasps like a drowning man grasps razor.

Gods, her father will probably ban her flying to the end of her life as soon as he found out, but it was worth it. Damn, it was worth it.

~

-> Chapter III -> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist

[wangmiao]

hii! i just finished reading the dark forest!! what a journey, i think it took me about a month to finish it lol. i wanted to share some thoughts !!

i found some of the concepts fascinating.. what stuck with me the most now i that i (try to) recall everything that happened, was the battle of darkness and the dark forest theory as a whole was brilliant. i imagine those people that were just- endlessly floating in the immensely vast universe and it made me think "oh wow how Sad and Hopeless that must've been" i too would've want to end it all, i believe that's a lot to endure.. that's one

another thing was the infamous wallfacer project. well that was new. and the fact that they had to plan everything on their own bc of the sophons, that's also kind of depressing lol. one thing i was confused was: why was luoji re-elected as a wallfacer at the end? i mean there wasn't anything more he could have done anyways?

da shi as always is such a great person😭 he never abandoned luoji during this long crazy journey, even after 200+ years. honestly i love his character a ton, i wanted to see what would happen to him at the end but there was nothing! will he be on Death's end? or his character just ends here? :((

i thought the whole thing with the "trees" as homes was pretty cool, though i couldn't really see it in my imagination haha i honestly can't imagine what would our society be like in, say, 300 years from now

i found it too simplistic(? that only when the trisolarans communicated with luoji did they stopped their plan to coming to earth, or maybe there's something i missed? or maybe it is really just that: communication solves everything? lol idk

and a deserved special mention to zhang beihai, respect!

i think that's everything i've got on my mind right now, but in general it was very interesting and depressing and dark.... what were some your favourite moments from the book? i can't wait to start death's end next !! but i'll start later, i have to fully process this book first hahaha anyways that's all, have a great day or night!!! :))

hello, friend! it's great reading this ask, and i'm glad you decided to share it with me. i have to say that i read the books years ago, so my memory on everything is not that fresh. and since i read the chinese version, i don't know some of the vocabularies they used in englishn. while i'll try my best to reply to this ask, i'm sure there's gotta be some novel fans here that could do better than me.

the dark forest is indeed very interesting and depressingly dark. i was definitely in awe when i heard the dark forest theory for the first time (before i read the books, and that was partly why i decided to read them). i also really like 水滴/waterdrop or droplet which is just something that looks simple but super super super powerful.

i enjoyed reading about the wallfacer project. even the three failed ones are equally fascinating and disturbing. i want to bow down to liu cixin's imagination...if i remember it correctly, luo ji is re-elected because his "咒语/spell or curse" actually came true. and at that time humans are really hopeless, so they just want to have someone that they believe can save/lead them.

da shi is everything. i lol need a da shi myself. unfortunately, he's not in the third book. my inner shiwang shipper feels that shi qiang and wang miao got similar style of exist from the story. and the common believe (i don't even remember if i read it in the novel or it was fan theory) is that shi qiang dies of natural causes at old age like wang miao. i kinda feel like maybe shi qiang and wang miao promised each other that they'd try to stay alive so that they can both be copernicus *sobs*...

ok...bear with my silly shallow shipper's talk for a moment, you know some people were like shiwang will be no more once season 2 of three body comes out, and everyone will start to ship shi qiang and luo ji, and it kinda bothered me a bit (ps. i know most people including myself didn't ship anything while reading the books, but man, these dramas are really forcing it on us lol). but i don't anymore, because i really think wang miao is special to shi qiang. besides shi qiang being a good and protective human being who will die for the greater good, i think one of the reasons that he stays with luo ji all this time is because luo ji reminds him of wang miao. even though it is only mentioned very breifly, i do believe liu cixin meant to tell us how important wang miao is to shi qiang... “我这辈子还只见着他一个”

as for luo ji stopping the trisolarans, i think he uses the dark forest theory, and his threat of exposing the location of the trisolaris (and in turn exposing earth's location) stops their plan.

and zhang beihai is an awesome, complex, and well loved tragic hero even though he isn't a very major character like luo ji. i remember yu hewei said in an interview that if he didn't play shi qiang, he'd probably like to play zhang beihai. i'm really curious who they'd pick to play zhang beihai in season 2.

anyways, thanks so much for the ask. you made me want to re-read the books, and i know i really should! have a nice day/night!

[liptonrm]

I finished re-reading The Great Hunt a couple months ago and been meaning to write up some reactions.

I don't think I've re-read this book as a whole in 20+ years and there are definitely bits that I did not remember very clearly at all.

The parts I did re-read pretty regularly (Nynaeve and Egwene's lessons with Siuan, Nynaeve's Accepted test, the "flicker flicker" sequence) still really hold up.

This might be the weirdest of RJ's books, and that's not a bad thing. He was still settling into his style for the series and some things were delightfully weird. Only a physicist would send a chunk of his protagonists (and one secret antagonist) on a journey through a pocket dimension.

I also really liked the scene where Rand was stuck in a time loop in the abandoned village. It was chilling and atmospheric and gave some nice depth to Rand's early fears of going mad and terror re: channeling.

When I first read the book I definitely skimmed over all of the bits with the Whitecloaks. Geofram Bornhald might be remembered as a "good" Whitecloak but he's still a terrible person. He's all, oh, I hate how the Questioners torture all of these people, but I'm not going to do anything about it except maybe privately wring my hands a little bit.

Like, cool story, bro. You died doing the right thing. Shame about all of those war crimes and how you probably think the damane deserved what they got.

Speaking of damane, I am not looking forward to the eventual flattening and softening of the Seanchan. Their society is fucked up in interesting ways! But it's still super-fucked up. If you're going to do a story about the enemy of your enemy being your reluctant ally, you can't just handwave all of the atrocities. Make the characters grapple with that shit!

But that's a future problem that I'm sure I'll have many, many thoughts about.

In a lot of ways, this was RJ's most distinct and transitional book. He pulls in a soupcon of the old Tolkien pastiche for about a chapter, but the rest is at times weird and wonderful, at times thrilling, and at times deeply, deeply boring. I'm glad I revisited it and I'll be super-interested to see what pieces R2J2 & Co pull out for Wot season two.