#makes me feel the same way as that post that talks about how children's lit is written with such kindness

[currymanganese]

Fak is too involved in Carmy and Claire's relationship. From giving Claire Carmy's number to showing up at her job with his equally annoying brother. He needs to mind his business and stop assuming what Carmy wants. In s3 ep9 Fak tells Claire he thinks (then later says knows) Carmy loves her. If you don't know Carmy's true feelings about her, why tf are you speaking for him?

Also sometimes it seems like Carmy doesn't even like Fak like that. They rarely have one-on-one scenes together and their conversations are mostly surface leveI. I always thought Fak and Richie were closer. In s2 ep3, when Claire and Carmy are talking on the phone, Carmy says Fak isn't his best friend (but then backtracks 5 seconds later saying he's probably my best friend). Then in s3 ep5 when they are preparing for the photoshoot, Fak said Carmy was #1 on his best friends list. The friendship is obviously unbalanced. Fak is one of those childhood friends you have outgrown but keep in your life due to history and familiarity. This is just another example of Carmy being stuck in the past and not being able to let go. He either needs to set some boundaries with Fak or end the friendship.

I love your blog btw. Your analysis on The Bear are very thorough.

*EXTREMELY HOT TAKE INCOMING*

Thanks for the kind compliments / thanks for the ask, but I'm starting to think that, if my suspicions are correct, that depending on how season 4 goes, that she and The Faks may shape up to be fantastic characters, at least from a trollish comedic parody perspective - and that this may be a huge 'star making role' for Molly Gordon and the rest of actors cast as the Faks if what is being set up is executed well post-reveal, and they demonstrate that, contrary to what we have seen thus far on the show, they definitely have acting range.....

Because I'm like 88% sure now that Claire x Carmy x Sydney's love triangle is an allegory/deconstructed (in part) version of Lilith x Adam x Eve from apocryphal / Jewish tradition. And that 'Sammy' Fak may be an archangel Samael figure

Lilith is Adam's first wife apocryphally and in Jewish mysticism that left him and became a she-demon / mother of demons / the "queen of the night" after being impregnated by / becoming a consort of the archangel Samael (whose name means Venom of God and is a seducing/destroying angel).

My thoughts are too incoherent right now to make a post about this theory in its own right, but all of the above could explain why the scenes where Claire is physically intimate with Carmy are shot in darkness and low light, compared to warm /well lit scenes when Syd and Carmy are emotionally intimate; it could explain why the songs that play during Carmy and Claire's scenes are frequently morbid or are outright about death, or lyric less ambient scores that invoke the feel of psychological horror,

and why mostly love songs are played for Carmy and Syd's.

I've made some posts /edits pointing out the parallels between Claire / Carmy / Syd and these biblical / mythological figures, and a post on why I think John Cena as Sammy Fak is a case of good casting (from a comedy perspective) if the Faks are really meant to serve the function that I think they are meant to below;

but some additional similarities between Claire and Lilith are that they were 'created' in the same way, 'formed from the same dust', as their 'Adam' (whose name can also mean red clay/earth and Claire's last name means mud or muddy fortress) - since Carmy and Claire both come from the same neighborhood/highschool and, depending on how much we see of Claire in the future, they may have both come from dysfunctional homes / be the adult children of alcoholic parents.

The posts I linked below are:

1. A webweaving on Sydcarmy + Adam x Eve parallels;

2. A fan edit that I did that was inspired by the webweaving; side note: if Carmy's words to Sydney at the end of their first convo was foreshadowing for them starting a literal nuclear family of their own, and how many kids they're gonna have, I'll scream;

"We're gonna make family, it's meat, (👀) plus three, and we'll eat around two."

3. A reblog add-on to @espumado et. al's @thoughtfulchaos773 @vacationship @kdbleu 's etc. thread on the theme of haunting / religious / mythological imagery and parallels in the show in season 3.

4. Another thread on religious symbolism in Season 3 and Claire and Syd / Carmy's relationship kicked off by @vacationship.

5. Another reblog add on I made in response to @glitterslag about the episode Review in Season one possibly representing/parodying the biblical "Fall of man".

6. A fan edit that I made for clairecarmy with the intent of being humourous at first, but unexpectedly turned out pretty nightmarish / psychological horror-esque without much work because the material/ dark imagery is there; including an eye opening parallel between Claire and Donna.

7. A post on the Bear being a super deconstructed Shakespearean pastoral comedy e.g. like As You Like It.

8. The religious symbolism of Carmy's red string of fate dish for Syd possibly being a visual allusion to the sacred heart of jesus, which is an emblem of God's long suffering and passionate love, an add-on to @twokisses post

Tagging @ambeauty @angelica4equity @imliterallyjustablackgirl @devisrina @ripley-stark @bootlegramdomneess @gingerylangylang1979 @outmakingmoonshine @pureseasalt @augustmonsooning @brokenwinebox @whenmemorydies @mod-doodles @bioloyg @caiusmarciuscoriolanus @post-woke @myloveismineallmine @turbulenthandholding @anxietycroissant

@moodyeucalyptus @ago0112 @unbeweavvveable @blackjack-15 in case anyone wants to chime in.😭

[nelllover]

Doing a separate post to talk about Literati in 3x01 because although they don't have any real interaction this episode is still heavy on the Lit stuff:

I love the symbolism of Rory pushing all of Dean's letter (so many letters by the way was he trying to drown her in mail??) to get to the letter for Jess.

My personal headcanon is that she spent the whole summer trying to write the perfect letter, but she never managed to write anything good enough.

Okay I'm not one to pity Dean (ew) but why did Rory still talk to him throughout the summer when she obviously wanted to be with Jess like when she arrived, she clearly wanted to talk to him probably to get together so I don't get why she felt the need to keep up the charade with Dean she should have ghosted him or something. But this is Rory I'm talking about, and I love that girl, but she does not make the best decision when it comes to her love life!!

"I can instantly deduce that when someone hears the name 'Paris' in the same sentence with the word 'date' jaws will drop. Confused looks will cover faces. words like 'How' and 'Why' and 'Quick, Bob, get the children in the minivan because the world is coming to an end' will immediately fly out of people's mouths." Did I mention that I love Paris.

Another favorite scene of mine is Rory describing Jess when she describes her perfect guy

"You'll know, okay? You just have to let it happen. and then probably when you're not looking, you'll find someone who compliments you. someone who likes what you like. someone who reads the same books or listens to the same music or likes to trash the same movies. someone compatible. but so compatible that they're boring. I mean you respect each other's opinions, and you can laugh at the same jokes, but I don't know there's just something about not quite knowing what the other person's gonna do at all time. that's just really... exciting." I would be lying if I said that I don't know this scene by heart!!!

Rory going into the closet with her letter!!! but also, what was she going to do with it she was going home the day after did she ever intend to send that letter?

Rory does not look happy about skipping dinner to spend time with Dean, and I can't blame her!

Geez I wonder why Rory wants to go to this festival? that is such a mystery don't you think. and why on earth could she want to change for?

I'm being sarcastic (obviously). Okay but how did Lorelai not catch what was going at that point!! like she thought Rory wanted to change for Dean? the last that Rory cared about what Dean thought of her outfit was on their weird first date!! (Which if you asked me was more between Lorelai and Dean)

Rory looks beautiful in that dress by the way!

Okay again I ask what on earth was Rory's plan?? Like was she going to go up to Jess and say what? "Hey, I know that I'm still dating Dean but still wanna make out"???? Like Rory honey what is the plan because you havent dumped the Jolly Green Giant yet you kinda need to do that before getting a new boyfriend. I love the girl but what was going on in her head I gotta know!!!

Rory looking around for Jess!!! And getting upset when she finds him with Shane...

Lorelai finally realizes that something is going on with Rory.

(Okay but why did Rory being visibly jealous made me kinda happy like I hate that she's upset but I love the angst.)

ok but the "yes it's Jess" line always makes me laugh. I think my sense of humor is broken.

Again, this is one of those scenes where I agree with Lorelai until her pro Dean agenda becomes obvious. Like I do think that she was right about the make up your mind thing but her bringing up how sweet Dean has been felt of base like Rory does feel bad (contrary has to what some people in the fandom seem to think) and I know that Lorelai means no harm but when she talks about how "great and sweet" Dean his Rory feels some kind of responsibility to stay with him because he is "perfect" and "she has no real complaint" which is ridiculous and as I have already said you don't need a reason to breakup with someone !!!

And then Dean walks in and like always he can't sense Rory being obviously uncomfortable. (Does he just not care???)

and then they kiss (ew as always) and Rory looks at Jess not even a second later!!! okay I know that Rory didn't breakup with Dean right then and there (Like she should have!!) because ASP is addicted to unnecessary drama but still, I hate the fact that Rory and Jess are fighting throughout the first half of the season (I love the angst but come on!!)

I hate how Lorelai is acting like Dean and Rory still being together is a good thing, like good for you I guess you still have someone to change your water bottle, but your daughter is still in an unhappy relationship!!!

"Rory, I don't want you to stay with Dean because of me"

"Okay, because if you decided you really did want to date Jess, I would help you... get vaccinated." Is this what Lorelai think not influencing Rory looks like??? Like Lorelai honey it's comments like this that makes Rory feel like she needs to lie to you about her love life!

(I love this episode, but I also hate this episode but to be honest that's how I feel about most of season 3)

[gatalentan]

I'm 32 years old now, sitting on a bench.

Inside me is a 20 year old sitting on a windowsill.

I developed myalgic encephalomyelitis (m.e. or "chronic fatigue syndrome") when I was around 14. It's post-viral, like long-covid, and has much of the same symptoms (though overwhelming fatigue from small actions and muscular pain, predominantly), in varying degrees from person to person. I don't know exactly when it happened. I had a lot of infections as a kid, it could have been any one of them.

What I do know is that it snowballed in a slow way that felt like my body was being dismantled bit by bit. Over time, I lost the ability to walk. And then stand. And then sit, until eventually I became almost completely bedbound, but certainly housebound, roombound. I was in pain all the time. I had a migraine all the time. I was sick all the time. 

In the gaps between, on the good days, where the symptoms were manageable, I could go to school, go to class, see friends, make bad choices, get bullied, finish my exams, normal teenage things, good and bad. But the good days became scanter and scanter, until by the tail end of my teens all I knew was my four walls and my bed.

I cannot express to you how being trapped in one room makes you into a fundamentally weird person. And I don't just mean psychologically, because, obviously, duh. But people talk about depression making you numb, and it does, but I was very literally numbed.

It was the sensory deprivation. The only time I left the house, my room, for about 4 years was for hospital appointments. I went weeks or months without feeling so much as a breeze, or even a draught from a door opening. No sun, no cold bite, no rain. Just the same dead air, absolutely stagnant, day in and day out, for years. It was like if you put a blindfold over my senses. The only real sensory input I had was the physical pain of my disability, whatever food I was given (shelf stable, room temperature, packaged), and whatever I listened to on my headphones. For years.

And I mean only too, because what the illness also did was fuck up my sleep. On a bad day, I'd sleep over 24 hours. My record was 32. And when I was awake, it was for maybe 5 hours at a push. When you sleep that much, statistically, I woke up to the rest of the house already asleep, the world outside asleep, for those five small hours, more often than not.

So for months, years, I was alone in a dark, silent room with dead air, lit by the only lamp I could reach from my bed, eating food left on a tray on the floor for me by my parents, in excruciating pain. I would sometimes go weeks without our clocks aligning. Just my own head, looping the same thoughts, because nothing happened, so nothing was new. Talking to no-one, seeing no-one, touching no-one, but knowing life was going on around me. 

My school friends were growing up, going to college, university, getting married, having children. I'd see their posts on Facebook, like I was looking through a window. I deleted my Facebook.

I was in suspended animation. 

I got sent to inpatient physio in my early 20s, for three months, five hours from home. I got specialised treatments. I learned to walk again. I could do things again. I could see people again. I could go outside again. I could live a mostly normal life. I got therapy. It helped.

But I was still in suspended animation.

I'm still in suspended animation.

I'm walking around, and living my life, but I'm still in that room.

I know that whenever I go walk the dog and it's cold or it's windy or it starts raining and I just start crying, and crying because I can feel.

For a lot of years, after being freed, I pressed everything down, refused to live, because everything was too new, too much. I developed depression that was worse than when I was locked up, because I was grieving what I'd lost. I'll always be grieving what I lost. But I have to live now, because she couldn't.

When I say I'm happy to be alive it sounds like a platitude. But I'm not talking about getting to experience life and opportunities, I mean on a very physical, fundamental, biological level, I am happy to be alive. 

I get to stand by the water and watch the sea come in - I can hear it, smell it, taste it, see it, feel it. Being fully aware of your own sensory experiences and the absolute miracle they are is what I've been left with. It's hard for me to do things without full commitment, anymore, because everything is so much and I want to feel all of it. I take so many photos, all the time. If I go for a walk somewhere nice, it's like I almost can't take it all in at once. Like I'm Bruce Bogtrotter trying to eat that chocolate cake in Matilda. I want to experience it and hold onto it and remember it and take all of it in and lick the plate clean, too.

It's all the time, even in the small, everyday things. I don't look for it, it's just there. The rattle of a poorly maintained bus engine under my seat. The smell of bakery section at the supermarket. Hot toast with half melted butter sticking to my lips. The jingle of ice cubes on glass. Birds calling to each other. Other peoples' cigarette smoke on my clothes. The dog smacking his tail against my leg under the table. Making a joke and getting a laugh. 

You're always being touched, but until it was taken from me, I had no quantifiable concept of how much, how often, and how much I was missing. I just knew that it was missing.

I wasn't alive, I wasn't living, but now I am. 

I'm a 20 year old who painfully climbed up on the windowsill in the middle of the night to feel the breeze on her face for the first time in months, who is crying, and crying. 

I'm a 32 year old sitting on a bench under a tree in the rain and giving it to her.

[archiveikemen]

Amamiya Henri Main Story — Chapter 14

I do not own any of the Ikemen Series content being uploaded on this blog, everything belongs to CYBIRD. Please support them by downloading and playing their games.

read this before interacting with my posts

Kanade: He would always step away and watch us from the sidelines.

Kanade: It’s as if he’s putting himself in the audience's shoes.

Kanade: That bad habit of his has stuck with him from those days, all the way until now.

MC: Oh gosh…

I gasped when I heard Kanade’s words.

(As expected, Kanade is aware of it too.)

== Flashback Start ==

Henri: Especially in high school, where I met Kanade and Kyoichiro.

Henri: I realized that no amount of hard work can make me on the same level as geniuses.

Henri: Up till then, I’ve been doing everything without really trying, so I can just continue doing so.

Henri: That’s what I told myself.

Henri: But I knew deep down that it was because I didn't want to hurt myself.

== Flashback End ==

I was thinking about what Henri said to me at the cafe, and…

MC: Um.

I looked up at the two of them.

I was about to ask what they felt about that, when—

Henri: Oh? MC is here too.

I turned around when I heard the living room door open, and saw Henri.

MC: Yeah. Kyoichiro invited me.

Henri: Eh— but you turned me down when I invited you—

Henri smiled and plopped down right next to me, as if that were the most natural thing to do.

Maybe it was his shampoo, but a sweet and refreshing smell coming from Henri’s hair wafted into my nose.

Henri: What were you guys talking about?

MC: Uhm, I was listening to stories about the three of you during your high school days.

Even while responding to his question, I was still feeling nervous because not only could I smell him, the distance between our thighs was so small that they were almost touching.

(Henri is sitting so close to me…)

As I gripped my hands tightly and placed them on my lap, Henri didn’t notice my reaction and continued talking.

Henri: You mean stories like the one about the legendary King Kanade who controlled the entire school, from its student council, all the way to even its teachers?

Henri: Or the one about a fight amongst the male students over Kyoichiro—

Kyoichiro: … Hey. How come I don't know about that one?

Kyoichiro raised his eyebrows, and Henri grinned happily.

Henri: Eh— the sports club and culture club were competing over who got to have you in their club.

Henri moved his face closer to me and whispered in my ear.

Henri: I’m not exaggerating, you know? It's a true story.

MC: O-Oh.

I felt a sweet ticklish feeling radiating through my body from my ear, when…

Kyoichiro: Henri. Instead of talking about other people, why don't you talk about yourself?

Kyoichiro said with a sigh.

Henri: Uhhh I don’t have a “legacy” like the two of you, so my stories are boring.

Kyoichiro: … You’re always saying that.

Kanade: Hm.

Henri then turned to me and spoke.

Henri: MC, are you… interested in hearing my stories?

MC: Yes! Of course.

Seeing my enthusiastic response, Henri’s face instantly lit up.

Henri: Got it~ Ah, but I genuinely have nothing much to share.

Henri: Hmm well then, a long time ago, I…

I felt my heart beating faster and faster as I listened to him.

(It could be because I’ve been drinking, but I'm being more aware about the close distance between us than usual…)

I couldn't seem to get used to the lack of distance between our thighs and shoulders.

(I should move away a little.)

Kyoichiro chuckled while listening to Henri’s story.

Kyoichiro: You’re the one who had lots of friends, Henri. Both guy friends and girl friends.

Henri: Ah— I wanted to make 100 friends in high school and eat onigiri at the top of Mt. Fuji with them.

Kanade: Mt. Fuji? What are you talking about?

Henri: Ehh— Kanade, you haven't heard this one before?

Kyoichiro: It's the lyrics of a childrens’ song.

Kanade: I see. Sing that childrens’ song for us, Henri.

Henri: Now!? I don't want to. Kyoichiro should sing it!

While listening to their lively conversations, I sipped the alcohol Kyoichiro poured me.

The three were chatting happily about their high school days.

(It feels great… listening to everyone’s stories about Henri like this.)

(I want to hear more!)

My heart was pounding with excitement, and the alcohol tasted better than usual.

Just like that, it was getting late into the night…

I was struggling to keep my eyes open.

Kyoichiro: Stop leaning on me, Kanade. Hey.

Kanade: … I’m not leaning on you.

Kanade’s groans and Kyoichiro nagging as he looked after a drunk Kanade could be heard in the distance.

(This isn't good… I’m getting sleepy.)

When my body started to incline and I was about to knock out…

Henri: Heeyy, MC.

MC: Mm… oh.

The moment I opened my eyes, I saw that Henri’s face was right in front of mine.

Henri: Are you sleepy?

MC: … No. I’m fine.

I quickly looked up and shook my head.

Henri: Eh—? Really? I thought you looked like you were about to fall asleep.

MC: Uh…

(I think I had too much to drink.)

Kyoichiro: Leave the tidying up to me, Henri. You too, Kanade.

Henri: Okay~

Henri responded cheerfully, reached his hand out towards me, and…

MC: Oh! Wah!

I exclaimed in a small voice when my body, which had been seated on the sofa just a second ago, was now in the air.

MC: What!?

All of a sudden, I was being carried in Henri’s arms.

(Is this a princess carry…!?)

Henri: I’ll carry you like this, princess.

MC: P-Princess!? Please put me down, I’m heavy.

Henri: Haha! It’s fine, it’s fine~

Just like how we helped the lost girl earlier in the day, Henri started walking with me in his arms.

(Is Henri drunk too!?)

No matter how many times I told him “put me down”, he would only respond with a smile.

I ended up being carried back to my room.

…

Henri opened the door to my room and entered.

He then gently lowered me onto my bed.

Henri: We’re here!

I heard the sound of the bed creaking.

While laying down, I looked up at Henri.

Henri: Hm?

MC: … I was woken up by you.

Henri: Haha

Disregarding what I said, Henri sat down at the edge of my bed and reached his hand out.

He gently caressed my forehead and spoke.

Henri: Do you need a lullaby?

Henri: Should I call Kanade over?

MC: N-No, thank you. … I can’t ask for such luxury.

Henri: That’s a luxury indeed.

Henri gave me a small smile and his fingers stopped moving.

He rested his hand on my temple.

The lingering feeling of his touch made me nearly forget how to breathe.

(This is so embarrassing and my heart is going crazy… )

After staring at each other in silence for a while, I heard the bed creak again.

Henri: Good night, MC.

Just as Henri was about to leave my room, I…

MC: … Wait.

Henri stopped in his tracks when I called out to him.

Henri: Yeah?

Henri’s voice sounded more gentle than usual, it felt pampering to hear.

He slowly walked back to me and looked into my face.

Henri: What’s up, MC?

MC: Henri… um…

Henri: Hmm?

MC: … You shouldn't… be so nice.

I told him my most honest words.

Henri: Why?

MC: I might get the wrong idea.

Henri: … Oh.

I heard Henri chuckle.

(I have more to say, but I’m so sleepy… I don't think I can keep my eyes open.)

My eyelids became half closed, and I could see Henri reaching his hand towards me again.

His fingers touched my forehead like he did just now, and…

(... Ah.)

Something softer than his fingers touched my forehead.

Henri: That's fine with me.

Henri muttered and pulled away, then he got off my bed again.

Henri: Good night.

He turned my room’s lights off and closed the door behind him as he left.

(What was that?)

(That felt like a forehead kiss.)

I vaguely remembered that soft touch on my forehead.

I wanted to remember it even more clearly, but the drowsiness got to me and my eyelids grew heavy.

(Maybe I’m imagining things.)

This time, I fell asleep and entered dreamland…—

…

When I woke up the next morning, I took a quick shower in my room’s attached bathroom.

I looked at the bright sun from my window while toweling my hair dry.

(I spent the whole day going on a date with Henri yesterday, and drank with everyone in SilverVine.)

(And…)

== Flashback Start ==

MC: I might get the wrong idea.

Henri: That's fine with me.

== Flashback End ==

MC: …!?

(W-What!?)

My heart started hammering hard against my chest the moment I recalled those word that sounded so sweet like honey.

(T-That was a dream, right? Those words.)

(Don’t tell me that you're fine with me getting the wrong idea.)

…

I changed my clothes and headed to the living room to calm myself down.

Henri had just finished his breakfast and was about to leave for work.

Henri: Oh. Good morning, MC.

MC: Good morning.

He was wearing his usual smile, but I briefly saw his facial expression stiffen.

(I knew it. That was just a dream.)

I kept trying to convince myself that it was just a dream, but I couldn't help looking away awkwardly…

MC: … Wah.

Henri suddenly touched my forehead.

I turned to look at him in surprise, and our eyes met.

His gaze that seemed to contain a hidden passion burning behind those eyes took my breath away.

(H-Huh…!?)

While I was stuck at a loss for words, Henri smiled.

Henri: I’ll get going now.

[underwhelmingalchemist]

Actually, I love being a cluttered person.

I love spending time in my room filled with pillows and shelves of knick-knacks where everything is decorated for Christmas and is lit by red LED lights

I love having a closet that can accommodate every aesthetic from jeans and a t-shirt to cottagecore scene kid to forest gremlin to full lolita coord and never sticking to any single aesthetic, even if I'm reusing the same core pieces over and over

I love teaching myself to sing, and to make edits, and bake things I've never made before, and sew, and craft with foam, and make props and costume pieces, and crochet, and fold paper stars, and write new genres, and learn about odd bits of culture and history, and cosplaying and making videos and dancing and anything else that might strike my interest all at once

I love listening to every genre of music and having my playlist skip from metal to bubblegum pop to country, without any particular devotion to any one artist or band, picking up bits and pieces from every tiktok I come across or album that was recommended to be years ago or music my mom used to listen to when I was a kid

I love consuming any media that catches my interest, from anime to indie films to marvel movies to media analysis to children's cartoons to documentaries to video essays to tiktoks to podcasts without any visuals at all

I love being in a hundred fandoms all at once, and creating content for as many as I can and cosplaying and writing meta posts and making video edits and memes and shitposts and writing fanfiction for dozens of pairings, plenty of which involving the same characters shipped with different people because I can't choose just one

I love my blog of random bits and bobs I've collected, with shitposts followed by fandom pieces and poetic phrases and a video that made me laugh

I love my gender and all its messy complexities, and how I want to go on T but still wear lolita and skirts and makeup but also do drag in both the king and queen categories and put on a performance both onstage and off that seems both feminine and masculine and some secret third option and it's all so chaotically off-putting but makes everyone around me gradually feel more at ease with themselves

I love my attraction and how I'm ace but also enthralled by the concepts of kink and romantically attracted to whoever my mind feels like that day, with preferences that swirl and shift in some nebulous cloud of identity that nobody could ever quite figure out, least of all me

I love dating two people and getting to text my boyfriend about my day and talk to my queerplatonic girlfriend about her plans to marry her boyfriend and tell both of my partners that I love them and kissing them and making plans for the future with both of them

I love my body with all of its squishy curves and rolls, and getting to decorate and customize it however I want, whether it's putting stickers on it or dressing it up in fun outfits or putting color around my eyes and painting on little designs

I love being talkative and knowing a little bit about everything because I remember reading about it a while ago, just like I remember when someone tells me about their favorite TV show or how they had a fight with their boyfriend a couple weeks ago or if they just started a new game, and crying with people in the same day I'll laugh with someone different

I love doing a hundred things at once, and putting on a podcast on while I play video games and monitoring my texts and discord servers I'm in, and finding the most overstimulating music to blast through my favorite pair of earbuds just because I like the bass and how it crunches

I love using language in ways that might seem a bit out of place, like trying to make things fit in a box together and saying I'm 'Tetris-ing it together" or calling certain sounds "crunchy" or telling my boss that I "had to go on a sidequest" when I had to deviate from what I was told to do, or just using the word "scrungly" at all

All of this makes up who I am, each piece making up a small part of a larger whole, no one bit able to exist without the other

I love all my clutter, no matter what form it takes

And I love being a cluttered person.

[teawiththespleen]

was reminded of the seacoastonline article on isopods id read around 5 years ago, and how affectionately the author wrote about the sowbugs in her garden

They don’t seek out fresh vegetables, instead they seek out dead plant material that is nice and wet — that’s their favorite food.

they do more good than harm by helping return nutrients to the soil and have such delightful personalities it would be a shame to try to kill them.

There are numerous reasons to fall in love with sowbugs (or at least respect them).

I tried not to disturb them. They have a (relatively) long life to look forward to (some species live up to 3 years in the wild), I didn’t want their first encounter with the wild to be too traumatic.

im crying imagine being so loved by another animal

[impossiblefangirl0632]

Religious Symbolism in Encanto

Most of these thoughts spawned from reading, a hair on the head of john the baptist by @icarusinthesand which I highly, highly, recommend you go read if you are at all interested in the more religious aspects of Encanto.

We ended up talking about the religious symbolism in the comments and with their permission I’ve compiled the main points we talked about here. 

Tl;dr Encanto is chuck full of religious symbolism whether it was intentional or not.

Bruno’s Room

Religious parallels: 

John the Baptist (And other prophets, thinking namely of Elijah) spent a significant amount of time living and preaching in the desert

The Temptation of Christ is when Satan tried to tempt Jesus to turn against God for 40 days in the desert

Moses and the Children of Israel in the desert for 40 years

A note about the number 40: In the Bible, numbers are rarely literal and have underlying significance. Forty shows up a lot because it is often used for time periods (40 days/years) that separate two distinct epochs. Bruno’s life can clearly be divided by the point he went into the walls, when he was 40. Plus, like I said the Hebrews were wandering in the desert for 40 years (To me this part of Bruno’s life can easily be described as ‘lost in the desert’)  which represents the time it takes for a new generation to arise.

Staying on Moses for a second, this wasn’t in the movie but a lot of us seem to share the same headcanon that Bruno’s sand waterfall parts for him, kind of like the Red Sea for Moses.

The concept art for Bruno’s room shows a lot of different options they considered but I would like to bring these two to your attention.

The first is a concept that I cannot for the life of my find again but I vaguely remember it being in a youtube video. Imagine a dimly lit, slightly crumbling, cathedral interior with sand dunes instead of a floor and that should give you a pretty good mental picture.

The second concept (above) instantly reminded me of Petra (below) (World Heritage Site, very cool, has ties to a bunch of different cultures and religions including Christianity and Islam) 

Fun fact I learned today is that according to Arab tradition Petra is where Moses struck a rock with his staff and water came forth. A lot of what remains of Petra is tombs which I think is an interesting tie in with the metas other people have written about the design influences from the Tierradentro tombs that did make it into the final design of Bruno’s vision cave.

Bruno’s role as the Prophet

Icarus did an amazing job at summing this up so I’m just going to drop in what was said in the comments here. For context, we were talking about how in the fic it’s alluded to that the Priest wanted Bruno to eventually become a priest himself.

“it seems logical (to Padre Acevedo) for Bruno to become a priest. I also think he has something more expansive in mind that just being the town priest -- when he says "lead" he does mean it. Because I really think that to a devout man of faith, Bruno would be... I mean, you have a prophet, he's the son of the man who made the miracle and the woman who turned it to bear fruit for the town, it feels fated, right? It feels like that man should be Something. Nobody's talking about living saints or the kind of leadership that reshapes the world but people are definitely thinking it, before they learn to be afraid of him.”

This reminds me a lot of this post (that was meant to be funny, and it is) that in my opinion correctly points out that Bruno’s two male role models are his father, who sacrificed himself for his family, and Christ, who sacrificed himself for humanity. To me it makes Bruno’s decisions make a whole lot of sense.

The Triplet's Gifts 

The thing that I've thought about a lot before reading Icarus’ fic is how the original three gifts in a way symbolize aspects of Christ/God. Because essentially, the gifts break down into healing (this is self-explanatory), prophecy/a (potential) sort of omnipotence, and controlling the weather to me falls under the umbrella of having dominion over the earth.

Breaking that down further: 

Bruno’s gift is obvious. He’s literally a prophet.

Julieta literally heals people with food (including bread, which has so many biblical tie-ins: the loaves and fishes, I am the bread of life, etc) 

Pepa is a bit more of a stretch but consider first off, the flood that destroyed the earth, and numerous times in the Bible where there’s a drought and the miracle sent by God is rain. 

Icarus made a good point about how Pepa seems to be more drawn to precipitation even when she’s happy since rainbows need moisture.

We know that when they were younger Bruno was the golden child but it wouldn’t surprise me if at least all three were considered saints at least at the beginning. (There’s a great oneshot that explores something very similar)

There are just too many connections for this all to be a coincidence in my opinion. At the very least someone on the design team thought about it at some point given the cathedral concept art. I mean come on, they literally call it a miracle.

[angry-geese]

Hello. I found your last post by Sukuna very nicely written. Can I make a request for this? S/o didn't feel very good there. Would you write a scenario where s/o has a very bad cold?

of course anon! here you go <3

Oddity - Sukuna x Reader

Warnings: none! mention of illness but its just a cold. sukuna being dramatic as usual. sfw. gn!reader

a/n: This one is quite a bit more light-hearted than the last. I went with true form Sukuna because i'm absolutely feral for monstrous men being soft for their s/o's

Word Count: 1.4k

Your arms stretch out only to find the other side of the bed cold.

The previous night hardly brought any rest. You awake exhausted, and with a headache, and you'd very much like to stay in bed, but the dryness in your throat makes you stir. Your throat hurts, talking is a chore. You have a cough that doesn't want to go away. It's interrupting your sleep, making you irritable.

Sukuna is the first to figure out something's wrong.

He doesn't need sleep the same way humans do, but when he lays next to you, he dreams for the first time in centuries. There's something oddly human about waking up next to you. He lost his humanity long ago. The man is a monster. But when he’s next to you, slivers of his old self shine through. His feelings on that are conflicted. He wasn't very good when he was human, but all humans have their similarities. All humans dream. That's part of what makes them human. His feelings about that are conflicted. Not all dreams are good. And Sukuna finds himself irritated that he can't control them.

When he has the time, he stays until you wake up. He has all the time in the world to do what he wants. You don't. So when you sleep, he only wants to be by your side. This morning was a special case. Someone demanded the King of Curses’ attention. He’s not sure what could be more important than him spending his morning with you, his beloved pet, but it required him to leave.

He’s far from sentimental. But you’ve grown on him. Though he can't stand most humans, the things you do interests him. He makes note of each and every one of your small habits.

You go about your morning like usual. Aside from overall feeling awful, you think nothing of it. It's not bad enough that you can't ignore it. Your first instinct is to say it's allergies. You’re not sure what's around here that causes them, but it's the first to come to mind. There’s not a whole lot you can do about them. At best you can wait them out. They were never that bad anyway. Your lack of sleep has left you tired, and short tempered. He blames it on the fragility of humans. Sukuna, in turn, has managed to piss you off first thing in the morning.

He leaves you alone for a good part of the morning. He finds himself irritable, his mood souring. Your bad mood only makes his worse. Any servants that bother him are quickly dismissed. Word spreads to leave him be.

When you only get worse, he gets worried. It's times like these that Sukuna realizes he doesn't know a whole lot about how humans work. Unless he’s causing it, illnesses all but slip his mind. He knows how to cause harm, but fixing it is a different story. Though he's normally calm and collected, his mind immediately goes to the worst. To him, you're dying.

Never in his life could he imagine himself getting so worked up over a human. He curses himself for it. Humans are fragile creatures. Their life is fleeting. Death is a silent, constant companion, walking hand in hand with life itself.

You’ve gone back to bed when he returns to your shared room. The curtains have been drawn tight, not allowing any light to pass in. Bright light makes your head hurt. You’re content with staying in bed until late into the day. If that's what you want, he can't see himself arguing with you.

The mattress dips under his weight as he sits. You grumble something, still half asleep. His hand smooths across your back. He’s not sure what he wants, but some part of him has to touch you. His nails are getting long, and feel nice against your back. Your pride wants you to tell him to piss off, but him scratching your back feels too nice.

He doesn't remember you getting injured. You show no sign of injury, so that’s quickly ruled out. At first he thinks you’ve been poisoned. You have not. Nobody in their right mind would poison you, mostly out of fear of Sukuna’s wrath. Their fear of him transfers over into a fear of you. Not that you’re as frightening as the king of curses himself, but out of fear of what he would do after.

"You're hurt." He says.

"It's a cold," you say, "I'll live."

You aren't noticeably warmer, but you are feverish. The back of his hand presses to your forehead. He's not sure what he's looking for, but he's seen this done before by mothers consoling their sick children. When humans get sick, they warm up. He knows that. He wants to call for Uraume. The man knows more about humans than he does- he is one. If he asks you, you’ll only say you’re fine, and wave him off.

"I'm alright," you say, "it's just something I've got to wait out."

He thinks he understands. Outward his only emotion is indifference. His mood does improve. You’re not dying. There's that. Even after being reassured you’ll be alright, he’s still worried. He knows humans are fragile. But they’re also rather persistent.

You audibly protest when he pulls away.

“I thought you wanted me to go away.” He says, following this with a dark laugh.

“I do!”

“Then why are you trying so hard to make me stay?” He asks.

As you try to stand, he moves, preventing you from doing so. Frustrated with him, you try to shove him aside. You do nothing to him. Even in a non-weakened state, he’s much stronger than you. Fighting against him is futile, but you do so to preserve your pride. You can't give up without putting up some sort of a fight. His chest presses against yours, your smaller body is caged in his arms. He litters your neck with wet, open mouth kisses. His lips are soft, and tickle your skin, sending you into a giggling fit. A coughing fit wracks your body, making you double over. You let out a squeak as he pulls you into his arms, cradling your body against his chest. Your arms loop around his neck. He runs warm naturally, you’re rather glad to steal his body heat.

“Do I have to hold you down?” He asks. “Or are you going to stay put and let me take care of you?”

You nod, too tired to put up much more of a fight. Your stubbornness, however irritating at times, was endearing to him. He pulls the blankets up around you, tucking them under your chin.

Sukuna slips out of the room, leaving the door open. He doesn't plan on being gone long. The hall is well-lit, albeit unusually quiet. A moment later he returns with tea, mixed with lots of honey. If you need it, he’ll have a servant fetch you medicine. You don't seem to be at that point yet.

When he returns, you’re still in the same spot. You sit up once you see him. He sits, opening his arms. Instinctively you go into them. He’s dragging you into his lap as if you weigh nothing. To him you don't. It's both impressive and terrifying. Your body feels so small and arm against his, he can't help but huddle closer to you, trying to leech off of your warmth.

He holds the cup up to your lips. It's warm against your already feverish skin. Your hands wrap around his, and the cup, as you drink greedily. The warmth of the drink leaves you feeling sleepy, the honey helps with your sore throat. He sets the cup down on the bedside table with a thunk. Steam coils off the surface of the tea.

The intimacy of the moment does not go over his head. It's far too early for him to go to bed, but since you insist, he can't find it in himself to refuse. His hand cups your cheeks as he leans down to kiss your forehead.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you flush to his chest. Your head leans against the crook of his neck. Your fingers idly trace along his tattoos. He pulls the blankets up around you, tucking them around your shoulders.

It's still early in the day, but in his arms, your head resting against his chest, you find yourself slowly drifting off to sleep.

You’re feeling better already.

[rcksmith]

Sun — Kaz Brekker

Resume: Feelings are destabilizing things.

A/N: This story is not set in the books of Six Crows, I also changed the age of the characters to twenty-something because the idea of ​​writing something about a child makes me uncomfortable. All my stories, of any characters, are with them being of up age. Just like many fanfics out there in the teen series.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader.

Warnings: Mention of fight, swearing, mention of post-traumatic stress, angst, mention of kiss, mention of desire, desire, mention of death, but so fucking fluff.

Word count: 3k.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — —

There were few things in life that he was absolutely sure of. Things that were immutable, solid, unshakable. That even the strongest of winds would not be able to shake the structure. A life built on the basis of an equation of chaos, suffering, death and despair generated a result where it was necessary to be sure of something. And one of those certainties was the ability of himself, of his instincts, of his intelligence, the notion that he himself was a person capable of resolving any type of situation with iron fists. The second was the certainty of the loyalty of his crows, of the two people who, he knew, would never turn their backs on him.

And the third... the third was that when Kaz Brekker first laid eyes on you, he was sure that you would divide his life between a before and an after.

It was a lepid, ferocious feeling that swept the body of The Bastard of the Barrel from the top of his head to the tip of his polished boots. The heat immediately gave way to a cold sweat, a shiver as if receiving a midnight sigh at the back of the neck. There was a quick sensation of burning in the heat of an icy fire, but his composure did not flinch a single millimeter. He had learned to keep it in all situations, trained with steel fists.

Kaz looked at you deeply, from the top of your hair to the tip of your feet, trying to find answers as to why you had triggered such disturbing sensations with a simple and ridiculous exchange of looks. But he found no answers. He found neither after a day, nor after a week, damn it, he did not find nor after a month!

You had joined the infamous trio because they needed a fighting expert, someone who could defeat a good number of men on her own without needing backup, which would make their bigger and more complex robberies much easier. And when they found you, a girl who had been the subject for a experiment to create super soldiers, your ability to fight, physical endurance, and your sense of loyalty, made you perfect for the job.

But none of that explained why, whenever the stormy blue eyes met yours, he felt like he was ricochet by living eels. It was exasperating, frustrating on so many levels that it was difficult to put into words. Kaz could not expose this misfortune to his two closest people, first because his pride in admitting a disturbance in his subtly balanced world was too great, and second that... even if he considered said that, he would not know how to name those feelings for express what he were feeling.

How would Jesper and Inej understand something that even he did not understand?

Kaz Brekker had a firm and calm demeanor, an implacably logical mind and a way of narrowing his eyes that ensured that his orders were carried out with great efficiency, all according to the moment he wished. Then, just as he did to get rid of any disturbance, he buried those sensations so deeply until, like his overwhelming pains and traumas, they stopped tormenting him.

He thought that, like his flawless and cunning plans, it would have the same effect. That his nerves could get back to normal and he wouldn't have to deal with the feeling that feel hiself whit cold and hot at the same time whenever he laid eyes on you.

But, if it was true that the practice makes perfect, this rule has not been applied in this situation.

The deeper he buried those beginnings of thats sensations, more of them began to flourish, roaring harder, as a constant reminder that he was not that rock of stoicity and absence of feelings that he liked to think he was. It seemed that, just as light existed to exorcise the darkness, you existed to show that he still had a beating heart. Hot blood still coursing through the veins.

It has not helped anything in his cause that, over time, Inej and Jesper have become attache to you. Jesper even more. But if Kaz put aside his frustration and irritation for a second, he would know that he couldn't to blame them. In fact, there was no way to blame every person who approached you, delighted.

Jesper once described you as "the soul of the party", and Inej said that you had fire in your soul. Kaz would not have been able to think of better definitions to put into words what you were. There was thing about the way you laughed, the way you talked, the way your tilting your head and your so easy smile. There was a thing about you. That transformed you into the solar system and people orbited in your gravity like planets.

You had a way with people, Kaz really thought it was a gift, a talent. You were always laughing, smiling, playing with people and making them so comfortable in your presence that, once, Kaz saw a trader, who are in a the middle of a refused to close a contract with Kaz, just melt and give up because of the smile you gave to him.

Nothing from you has been forced, malicious, shrewd or cunning. You really smiled, you really laughed, as if you were...happy. Purely happy. And, in a second of insanity, Kaz wondered if that happiness was possible. If it was possible for him to feel something like this.

But, just as Brekker took his soul close from you as much as he could to avoid any emotion, Jesper did the exact opposite. Very quickly, just like Kaz and Inej are, the two of you became a pair of inseparable friends. Were always together.

Perhaps it was because you two were overwhelmingly alike: Always in the eye of danger, addicted to adrenaline, purely outgoing and liked a good fun. Or maybe it was because, like everyone around you, Jesper felt drawn closer to your warm, joyful and comforting aura.

But whatever it was, the timbre of your laughter followed by Jesper's became a sound as natural as the whistling of the wind. And it didn't take long for you two to become partners in thefts and plans.

However, it didn't take long too for the reactions Kaz had about the influence of your presence to become...louder.

If Kaz Brekker closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment, he could still remember and feel that night perfectly as if it were yesterday:

The plan was succinct: They would have to go through guards, high walls and locks to enter a merchant's residence, open the safe, pick up the jewels and leave. Twenty minutes was the time limit to complete that sequence.

Everyone was assigned to one thing: Kaz would turn off a fabricated security system from a Grisha, Inej would sneak into the shadows to the safe and pick up the jewels, and Jesper and you would be responsible for dealing with the various guards. Everyone would have to meet in the corridor that led to the back exit.

Kaz did not think that that so ridiculous and simple plan it could go wrong. Or that someone could make a slip. To him, it seemed as easy as sneaking into a yacht boat. However, there he was, next to Inej who carried the jewelery bag in her hand, both of them standing in that dimly lit corridor, waiting for you and Jesper to appear.

"It's been three minutes!" Inej pointed, as if Kaz didn't already know that.

Her intonation was concerned, apprehensive, with a certain fear. Kaz thought about saying something, but as soon as his mouth opened to say anything, he heard...

Steps. Hurried steps of two people. No, actually, the two people were running.

Suddenly, you and Jesper burst into the corridor, running as if their lives depended on it. Inej and Kaz would have been worried if it weren't for the bastard and peraltas smiles that stretched across faces of you two, stretching their cheeks.

Then Kaz noticed the reason for the delay. You two carried a giant picture under your left arms. Jesper carried the front end and you the back end, like two children who made a mischief and was running from their mother. True accomplices.

Kaz's jaw opened, his eyes widened slightly and roamed the frame with agitated iris, while Inej was totally baffled.

"C'mon, C'mon!" You exclaimed with laughter in your voice, Jesper and you never stopped running.

As soon all left and took shelter in the safety and peace of the Crow Club closed in that night, Jesper and you fell on the couch, laughing and panting.

"What was that?!” But Kaz was exasperated "Do you both know how much risked the plan?!"

"It was only three minutes, Boss." Jesper defended himself.

"It..." That's when Kaz looked at the painting responsible for all the commotion and fuss.

It was a painting, a landscape by Ravka. The fold. In oil on parchment. A DeKappel. That was worth at least ten thousand Kruges.

“You commented that you needed a new painting for your office.” Your voice took Kaz out of the admiration on the painting, and Jesper and Inej looked at you as if they had discovered that now too.

Jesper and Inej thought it was just for the money...

Kaz looked up into your eyes, and the cold, warm shiver spreading across his chest and snaking to his bones. As it always did the moment yours eyes meeting.

He remembered commenting in passing, in a very vague and obtuse way, that he wanted a new painting in the office. Until that moment, Brekker didn't think you paying attention to what he had to say. Not when it wasn't about a job or plan.

But there you were, proving that you had heard. And that you cared.

His breath caught for a second, the icy chill turned to something warmer, like the first sparks of fire in a fireplace. The first flames that precede the fire.

After that, Kaz began to pay more attention, unconsciously, to what you said. And, consequently, he started paying more attention to you. It had been gradual, sneaky as a snake, imperceptible so he wouldn't be able to root it out. As if the universe, destiny or divines, introduced, grain by grain, a small summer in a landscape frozen by winter.

It all started with your comment about liking it sweeter than salty, that dry wine left you with a headache and that you preferred rum. He evolved to notice how your tone of voice got sweeter when you talked to children or animals, and more serious when it came to the safety of the three crows. And suddenly, as if Kaz already knew this as he knew the sky was blue, he knew how to say how your eyes sparkled when you felt the warmth of the sun on your skin.

In that second, looking at you from the other side of the agitated club that turned into a celebration with dance and music, the world became suspended for a moment. The music became just an echoing, blurry noise, the images turned to slow motion and the air seemed to change in pitch. You, who laughed and speen round in Jesper's arms amid so many people who did the same thing, were the only one who starred as the main attraction.

In that minute, when the breath was slow and lyrical, and the air had a beauty tone, Kaz's eyes caught the exact moment when a beam of sunlight hit your face, shining on your skin as if you were one pirate tropical treasure. In a burst, a second of insanity, like a violin string that burst at the apice of the song, he felt that there was nothing else in the world worth seeing that was not you.

It was a scary, terrifying discovery. Something that made him freeze from head to toe, and all the speed in the world came back so fast that Kaz felt dizzy. He pressed his covered hand to the crow's beak of his cane, as if he needed a reminder of reality. Something that would wake him up from those hellish sensations.

- -

The months passed after that fateful afternoon. Kaz avoided staying close to you any longer than necessary and would strongly and vigorously scold every change of tone within himself whenever he saw you.

He didn't know what those sensations meant, but he also didn't want to find out. He liked challenges and responsibilities, but being around you was proving to be more than he could take. Your presence ignited him in a cold and warm fire, promising a future full of unfulfilled infinite wills. From pain, impotence and doomed to failure. Any feeling for you would be more of a punishment than anything else. The only solution was to get it out of your head.

Of course, he had been trying to do just that since he met you.

But again, the universe did not seem to want to give up from he. Not so easily.

Kaz had to take you along to make a deal with a merchant who was more impassable than a rock. Kaz had tried to negotiate with him before (since he couldn't take the strength or rob what he wanted) and all his efforts were in vain. So, he appealed for the last weapon. The person who always had a natural gift whit other people and always had a real smile that made anybody feel like... as if happiness really existed.

You.

"I'm glad it's hot" You commented, while walking next to Kaz "I don’t like the cold."

How did he know that you would say just that? That was so you. Warm, sweet and cozy things were the embodiment of what you were. It was logical that you preferred the heat. So different from him that, instead of you, enjoyed the cold. Liked the rains and storms, relaxed with the moonlight and felt less tense with the midnight winter breeze.

Kaz understood your personality as he understood the very lines of his hands. You were wild, bordering on reckless, you acted before thinking and you always loved anything that aroused adrenaline. You ran like no one else, jumped from one horse's cell to another, decided to catch the largest number of targets just because you wanted the thrill of fighting five against one. Anything calm, serene and peaceful stirred your restless personality. And Kaz knew exactly your level of restlessness from the way your leg was constantly jumping when you had to sit still for more than a few minutes.

You were a free spirit, forged in the heart of the sun and in the heat of summer. While he was limited by his own body and built in the heart of winter and frozen by the cold of the sea. Anything between you was doomed to fail even before you two met. Kaz Brekker knew this very well.

“He is late.” You grunted, your leg was already starting to jumping when you two spent a measly ten minutes waiting for the man.

You looked back and seemed to find it interesting, because Kaz saw your eyes shine.

"Let's go there?" You pointed, and Kaz had to turn around to see that you were referring to a coffee shop.

Crowded with sweets in the window for a change. Why was he not surprised?

“No.” He turned forward again, both hands on the cane.

"So I go over there and come back quickly."

“Y/n" he just said in a warning tone, giving you a scolding look.

You mumbled something he didn't identify, turned around again and did your best to be quiet. Five minutes passed before that merchant arrived, and Kaz can perfectly follow the change in his posture, change in the man eyes when you greeted him with that summer voice and sunny smile.

It was so vibrant, so vivid that, for a second, Kaz found himself slightly swayed by all the brilliance you emanated. Pulled towards your like an animal needing the warmth of the sun.

It didn't take much for the man to sign and agree with everything Kaz said and imposed. In fact, he suspected that if he had asked him to give him his bank password, the man would have been happy to do so.

"Can we go in the coffee shop now?” You commented as soon as the man left, still turning around to look at you as much as possible.

Kaz restrained the glaring urge to roll his eyes, but he had just landed a very lucrative business just and exclusively because you agreed to help. Even though you didn't gain anything from it. So, if he had to go with you to a goddamn coffee shop so he wouldn't feel like a petty profiteer, he would go to the goddamn coffee shop.

Kaz just walked towards the place, and the wide, summery smile you gave may have he missed a few heartbeats.

Stop it!

Once inside the damn store, you scanned the menu that hung on the wall.

“I never took this one.” You commented, pointing to what appeared to be a very sweet mix of drink. Something that involved ice cream and chocolate with something else.

It was not the kind of comment that had an answer, and Kaz was still engaged in the mission to stay away from you. But he thought that statement was just the reason why you wouldn't order that drink. But, just as you always threw any worldview Kaz had in the latrine, you asked for just that. His eyes were bloodshot with astonishment.

“Why are you going to order something you don't know if you like it?” He asked as soon as you got the drink and paid for it.

"How am I supposed to know if something is good if I never try it?” You said casually, both of you going out of the store. “Wanna try out?”

You held out for he the plastic cup that was covered by a lid that had a hole in the middle, where a fat, transparent straw came out. Kaz looked at you as if you had created a second head.

“Come on, you'll never know if you like it if you don't taste it.” The two of you stopped, you still holding the glass gently towards his mouth.

“No.” Kaz shook his head.

“Come ooon.” You insisted, a petulant and amusing smile plastered on your face.

"No."

You shook the glass, holding it out once more. This time, Kaz gave you a slightly annoyed look.

"You're not going to stop insisting until I take this thing, are you?"

You laughed, with a triumphant and friendly smile “I'm glad you know me so well”

Kaz rolled his eyes, snatching the glass from your hand and bringing the hellish straw to his mouth. Hell, he felt so stupid pulling that stupid drink through that straw. As soon as the sweet liquid invaded his tongue, an explosion of flavors flooded his palate, causing him to remain unresponsive for a moment.

"You liked it!" But just as he unveiled all of your lookes, you knew how to unveil all of his.

Kaz handed you the glass. “Absurdly sweet."

"You liked that I know."

You joked and, for a second, you had aroused he a desire to smile. A succinct curve in lips. With your sunny smiles and summer expressions, you looked like you were out of an enchanted forest inhabited by mystical creatures. Sun nymphs. Maybe Kaz would even have let himself go lightly if, when you took the glass back, your lips had not wrapped around the tip of the straw.

Exactly where his mouth was a second ago.

He pulse quickened so fast that it made the blood burn in his veins. It was impossible not to look down at delicate mouth, the subtle but destabilizing curvature in the center of your lower lip. Suddenly, he was out of breath, his body numb and his heart stopped beating for a second before accelerating to an alarming level.

Everything became hot, stuffy. The world spun away, out of focus, out of existence, leading he on a waltz unlike anything Kaz had ever felt before.

Kaz Brekker was the Bastard of the Barrel. Dirty hands and scammer. Someone trapped by his own body and traumas, unable to allow himself to enjoy human contact. But, hell, he was still a man. And in that moment, in that insane moment, he wanted to pretend, even for a few seconds, that what he wanted was within his reach.

Kaz thought he understood the desire: an attraction. He thought he knew what lust was: a wish that people felt. He had seen countless examples on his bar counter, drunk and chattering about what it was like to want a woman, to long for her. He thought he understood.

And he found that he didn't understand anything.

The desire was a hot and feverish whirlwind that shivered he from head to toe, with dizzying speed, and dragged everything towards perdition, below any intellect, any rationality. Rationally, he shouldn't have thought you were even more beautiful. But he did. He shouldn't feel his breath catch, but he did.

He felt as if he were walking on a narrow suspended board. One misstep and it would be the end of it. Hiding his disturbing thoughts, Kaz looked away from you.

He was ruined for the rest of his life.

[quillsanddaydreams]

puzzle dates

regulus black x reader

—author’s note: I adored writing this. Like a lot. Requested by an anon who wanted some Regulus fluff with a potter!reader. @scvrllet my dearest, gave in prompts for it and a message by @nuttytani darling inspired it. So what happens when you meet Regulus, your friend years after hogwarts? Happy reading ;)

—warning(s): mentions of food and drink. gender neutral!reader (pronouns aren’t used). reader is James's sibling but it's hardly there.

—word count: 1,546

It was raining heavily. You had been out for about an hour, getting groceries for the week. Whispering a spell, making sure no one was viewing in your direction, you watched your wand transform into an umbrella and hurried away from the shop. Stalking towards your house, you tried to make sure not to let your bags get wet. You didn’t notice the man standing in your way.

“Ah, shit—” you began, not looking up far too busy to check whether or not something fell. “I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t notice where I was going—”

“Potter?”

You gazed up meeting someone you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Regulus.”

For a minute you two just stared at each other. He had changed. The thin, gaunt boy you saw as a child was replaced by a handsome man with the same striking eyes you used to know so well. You shook yourself.

“What— what are you doing here?” you said gesturing towards the damped hair and drenched clothes. Extending your umbrella over his head you continued, “You’ll get sick.”

“Worried about me, are you Potter?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Why don’t you think the soaked-to-the-bone look works for me?”

You chuckled.

“You didn’t answer my question,”

“Ah, I was here on ministry business but I guess I won’t be able to get it done now,” he said slowly looking around. “Was trying to find a place I could apparate safely. Too many muggles around.”

You furrowed your eyebrows noticing your surroundings again.

“Come with me,” you suggested. “My apartment is nearby and you could dry off before leaving.”

Regulus looked like he wanted to refuse but you cut him off.

“You’ll only ruin your health here, come with me— also it’s been a long while since we talked,” you pointed out and Regulus looked at you curiously. His mouth quirked upwards and he nodded. The two of you moved to the quaint three-story building, climbing up the stairs before reaching your door. You muttered in some spells before hearing a click.

“Don’t trust muggle locks?” Regulus said smugly as you rolled your eyes.

Waving your wand, you started up the fire; the warmth tickling your skin. Regulus took to drying himself off— murmuring incantations. You took to keeping the bags in the kitchen, putting up a kettle for some tea. Taking off your scarf, you sighed and sneaked a glance at Regulus who was now standing awkwardly looking around the house.

“You know you can sit, right?” you asked him. Shaking his head a little, he went to sit down in front of the fireplace. You took out some cups and an assortment of tea bags placing them in a tray along with some cookies you had bought the same day. Regulus smiled as you came in.

“Which one will you have?” you inquired as he gently took the cup from your hand. “Ah, still can’t have tea made by anyone else?”

Regulus threw you a grin.

“It’s a disastrous habit.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the tea pleasantly hot against your throat. Rain thrummed at the roof, the noise filling up the place.

“So—”

“How—”

You laughed. Indicating at him to continue, you raised the cup to your lips again.

“So what have you been up to?”

“I’ve been managing dad’s business. Since James joined a quidditch team, there was no one to help so I stood up. I quite like it, it gives me enough room to be creative;” you said softly. “How about you? Tell me something other than your ministry job.”

“Well I tried my hand at painting,” Regulus said after thinking for a while. “Remember how you used to tell me to try it?”

“You had the most gorgeous handwriting and the diagrams you made were always so perfect. Could you blame me?”

Regulus rolled his eyes, smiling as dimples formed on his cheeks. He looked beautiful like that. Curls of hair falling over his forehead, relaxed and carefree. You missed it.

“What?” he asked his cheeks a rosy color. You shrugged.

“Nothing, it’s good to see you after all this time,” you said, ignoring how your stomach tickled. “Remember how we promised to stay in touch?”

“Oh yes,” Regulus said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Right after your brother glared at me and threatened to hex me if I don’t stop talking to you.”

You snickered.

“You know he is quite the idiot,” you countered. “And my parents would’ve been proud if I brought you home.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“Brought me home, huh?” he said as you bit your tongue, looking away. “Did you fancy me, love?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying and failing to keep a straight face. It was something about the way he called you love that made you feel like a teenager with a crush again.

“The point is,” you pressed. “The point is that it never mattered what James did or said. He couldn’t do anything to keep us from being friends.”

“Yeah, friends.” Regulus breathed. You almost missed it.

The room fell silent again and you could hear the pitter-patter of the rain. Regulus picked up a cookie before speaking again.

“Do you still like doing puzzles?” he said as your eyes lit up.

“Yes, I do,” you said, reminding yourself of all the times the two of you spent together. “I never quite got over it after all the hours we spent together. Sirius used to mutter ‘mental’ whenever he saw us working over one. Especially since we always took up the one which seemed impossible to do.”

Regulus grinned, nodding.

“I don’t think he ever had the patience for it.”

“You know;” you said pondering. “I have bought a puzzle recently. Would you like to do it with me? For old time’s sake.”

“And here I thought it’s because you enjoy my company,” he said with a smug expression. Your heartbeat erratically and you found yourself hating how he still affected you.

“So that’s a yes?” you said, overlooking his jab. Regulus clicked his tongue accepting.

You got up slowly taking out the box you had bought a few days earlier. It was a fiery phoenix, looking at you intently. Regulus rubbed his hands and sat down on the floor beside you. He gasped a little when you put the box down.

“You know, I bought the exact same one about a week ago,” he said, helping you open the pack. “It’s missing a piece.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and Regulus shrugged.

“Should I bring another one? I have—”

“No no let’s do this one, it was fun.”

Folding your legs, you sat down beside him, your arms touching. Starting from the corner the two of you put together pieces. A sense of calm eloped you. The house and everything with it seemed to blur away. Just you, him, and the puzzle remained. It was different from your memories though, neither of you were children anymore. The adoration you had for him somehow hit harder now. Your hand touched his several times and you beamed at him as the puzzle came together.

“Aha!” you exclaimed putting the last piece in its place. It looked pretty. You looked over at Regulus, who was holding a stray piece in his hand, oblivious to what you said.

“Reg? Earth to Reg?” you called out as he finally looked over at you.

“I’m pretty sure you’re my soulmate,” he said as you felt your ears heat up.

“What—”

“This,” he said, indicating the odd puzzle piece. “This is the exact piece my set was missing.”

You snorted trying to deflect how your chest was filled with butterflies.

“Oh? And that makes us soulmates?” you asked, amusedly. “Since when did you believe in soulmates even?”

Regulus had the decency to blush.

“Well didn’t you always say our lives were a big puzzle?” he started. “Right now, you have a portion of mine.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh at the cheesiness or pull him close at the very same moment.

“You’re a dork!” you said poking his head with your finger. The boy smiled but it was strained. His demeanor changed. You could practically see his walls building up. Did you say something wrong?

“Reg,” you said urgently. He hummed in response. “Was that soulmate thing a joke or you meant it? Even if a little?”

Regulus avoided your eyes.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, yes it does.”

“Yeah well then I like you,” he said, looking down. “Always have. But I know you don’t and…”

You put a finger to his lips, stopping him.

“I do,” you said as his stormy grey eyes landed on your own. He cradled your cheek, leaning in tentatively, glancing at your lips. You heaved a sigh as his mouth finally met yours. Grabbing his collar, you kissed him softly. When you pulled back, you had a smile on your face.

“Now that wasn’t how I was expecting the day to go at all,” you commented, delighted. Regulus held your hand kissing the knuckles.

“We’re going to have more of these puzzle dates, aren’t we, love?” he said as you rested your head against his shoulder, interlinking your fingers with his.

“We are.”

—as for the taglist: I don’t make taglists, I have a blog @from-my-quill ​ ​ which is updated whenever I post fanfiction. You could have the notifications on for it and it will work just like me tagging you

⟨⟨REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED⟩⟩

[theweasleysredhair]

Baby Love [F.W.]

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 1693

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Looking after Teddy Lupin makes Fred decide he wants a baby of his own with you.

Tags: @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @firewhisky-kisses @obsessedwithrandomthings @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @rexorangecouny @mytreec @hemmoporro @thisismysketchbook @acciotwinz @shadowsinger11 @aaannabbanana @lestersglitterglue @anyasthoughts @lxncelot @harrypotter289 @wand3ringr0s3 @ickle-ronniekins @sehunasbitch @cryingforcrystalpepsi @kashishwrites @girl-next-door-writes @susceptible-but-siriusexual @crissdanvers @whizbangs-78 @heart-of-tempered-steel @oh-for-merlins-sake | message or send an ask to be added/removed!

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: just a reminder that this is a queued post! i’m currently taking a small break from tumblr (should be back by the end of the week though!) as i am not in a good place at the moment. feel free to continue sending in asks and messages whilst i’m away - i’ll answer as soon as i’m back online! i shall also catch up on things that i’ve been tagged in and fics i’ve missed then as well! ❤️❤️ to the requester - i hope you enjoy my love! 💕

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

“Never seen him so content,” you hummed to Hermione, a smile playing at your lips as you nodded over to Fred, who was sitting on a nearby couch in the living room of the Burrow, where everyone had gathered for Christmas - the second one since the Battle of Hogwarts - holding a tiny toddler, who was giggling at Fred’s attempts to make him laugh, hair turning a bright blue as he threw his arms into the air.

Hermione laughed, “He’s always loved Teddy.” “He reminds him of Lupin I reckon,” you replied, not having to mention the reason why, considering the small boy looked just like him. Fred, you knew, felt indebted to Lupin, since he was the one to bring George back to the Burrow when he lost his ear - kept him safe after the incident, travelling back quickly to save him. You knew that was one of the reasons Fred offered to look after Teddy so often - that and the fact that the baby adored him.

“Are you not thinking about children yet?” Hermione asked you, breaking you from your thoughts, “I’d have thought with the way he can never keep his hands off you that you’d be pregnant by now.”

You let out a laugh, knowing she wasn’t exactly wrong - Fred always had at least an arm around you or a hand on your waist, always pulling you into his lap and kissing you when he got the chance. And he’d only gotten worse since you were married a few months ago, thoroughly enjoying the new house you’d moved into after the wedding and all the privacy it gave you both - George had learnt to knock on the door when he arrived rather than apparating in immediately, after finding you both in a rather compromising position on the kitchen counter one time.

“Well, I mean obviously we’d love to have a baby... it’s just, well we both got hurt pretty badly in the battle and each had to deal with nearly dying,” you spoke, earning a sympathetic look as thoughts of the battle crossed both your minds.

Fred had nearly been hit by a wall falling in an explosion - he had been knocked unconscious and the moment you saw him laying on the floor of the Great Hall, you’d assumed the worst, until Molly had assured you with a watery nod that he was okay. Then when the battle recommenced, you’d had your leg crushed by falling debris, not being able to dodge spells fast enough, meaning you were nearly hit with the killing curse, had George not have pulled you out of the way in time.

The battle overall took its toll on you both, causing flashbacks and nightmares for the first year or so, only just beginning to ease when you and Fred decided to get married a couple of months back, wanting to make things official after years of dating.

“We just haven’t had the time to plan for a baby. Plus, we’re still really young,” you continued, shrugging your shoulders a little before turning your gaze to Fred, who was preoccupied by baby Teddy, pulling faces at him and playing peek-a-boo, not being able to help the smile that graced your lips, “But maybe having a baby would be a good thing.”

“He’d be a great dad,” Hermione grinned, seeing the way your eyes lit up as you watched your husband cradling the toddler in his arms, even as Teddy decided to grab a hold of Fred’s ginger locks, pulling at them happily.

“The best,” you nodded with a content smile. You excused yourself from Hermione as you saw Teddy reaching out in your direction, stuttering out what you assumed was his attempt at saying your name, clambering over Fred’s lap to get to you.

“I’m here baba, I’m right here,” you cooed, scooping the now-sandy haired toddler up into your arms and giving him a hug, his little chubby arms wrapping around you as best they could. You marvelled at how much he resembled Remus, the same tiny smile on his face.

“Be careful, he likes hair now apparently,” Fred grumbled, rubbing a patch on his head that you assumed Teddy had yanked. You laughed as you sat beside him, nudging his side a little with a wink, “I thought you liked having your hair pulled.”

“I do, but only when it’s you that does it, not when a baby does it with the intention of making me bald,” Fred replied, but despite himself he was smiling at Teddy, who had curled up in your lap and was babbling nonsense to you both.

You glanced up, noticing a presence watching you, finding Molly stood in the doorway to the kitchen, holding a spatula and practically cooing at the sight of her son and his wife looking after a baby.

“Oh you remind me of me and Arthur when we had our Bill,” she gushed, waving the spatula in your direction. You smiled at her warmly and shifted the toddler a little, Fred holding his tiny hand in his much larger one.

“I’m assuming Bill was a lot calmer than the rest of them, eh Molly,” you laughed, watching as she nodded immediately, nearly sighing as she thought back to her other children.

“Indeed. Charlie was a nightmare, always finding creatures from the garden and claiming them as his pets - once found a Doxy in his room that he’d been keeping from me, if you can believe it! An absolute pest, had to get rid of it as soon as I could. Percy was a good child, very smart. Almost as good as Bill. And then came you two,” she pointed the spatula at Fred who mocked innocence and pointed to himself in shock, “Who were nightmares. Then there was Ron and Ginny, but they were almost easy compared to the twins.”

Fred grinned smugly, “We enjoy keeping you on your toes, mother dearest, what can we say.”

Molly hummed disapprovingly at him, “I can’t wait until you both have a baby - for your sake, Y/n, dear, I hope they’re like Bill. For your sake, Fred, I hope they’re like you were, an absolute terror.”

Fred’s jaw dropped comically, absent-mindedly taking Teddy from you as he crawled on his lap, jogging him up and down on his knee, “Terror? Me? As if. I’m the light of your life. Besides, it’s awfully forward of you to think we’re having a child, Mum.”

“Oh look at you both with him,” Molly gestured pointedly at the toddler, who was happily playing with Fred’s jumper, “You’re parents already, you just need a baby of your own.”

With that, she turned to head back into the kitchen, as Fred turned to you, wiggling his eyebrows, “What d’ya reckon, eh love? Want a baby with me?”

“Already picked the names,” you joked, taking Teddy back from him and lifting him up in the air, making him squeal in delight, waving his little fists around.

Fred grinned, then found himself watching the way you were holding Teddy, the way you were cradling him so gently, making him smile and laugh. He bit his lip, imagining what it would be like with his own baby - one with his ginger hair, his nose, and your eyes and lips. One that was half him and half you.

All through the rest of the gathering, all through playing games with his family, talking about how Bill and Fleur were expecting their baby in April, and how Hermione was doing working in the Ministry, all he was thinking about was starting a family with you, watching as you cared for Teddy, to give Harry and Ginny and few hours alone before they took him back for the evening.

And as he sat, arm slung around your shoulder, Teddy now asleep across both of your laps, he decided he wanted his own baby with you.

Later that night, after you’d returned Teddy to his godfather, you and Fred retreated back to the room you were staying in in the Burrow. You lay on the bed, watching your husband move around the room, seemingly deep in his own mind as you watched him bump into the corner of the cabinet twice, and nearly trip over the rug, before you spoke, “What’s on your mind, Freddie?”

He paused in place, having removed his trousers and instead stood in a shirt and his boxers, “Just thinking about Teddy... and you... and how good you are with him.”

“You’re pretty good with him too, you know, he loves you. Kept asking for his ‘Unca Fwed’ when I gave him back to Harry,” you laughed a little, shaking your head.

Fred grinned, “He’s pretty cute, huh? Been wondering what it’d be like to have him around all the time. Except not him, but a different baby. Our baby, to be precise.”

“You want a baby?”

Fred nodded, almost shyly as he pulled his shirt off and threw it over to you, you swapping the shirt you were wearing for his, happily breathing in the smell of him clinging to the fabric.

You smiled at him, holding your arms out to him as he crawled up the bed until his body hovered above yours, leaning on his forearms on either side of your head.

Wrapping arms around neck, you leaned up to brush your lips against his, “I’d love to have a baby with you, Freddie.”

He nudged his nose against yours, humming contently, “Yeah?” “Yeah,” you confirmed with a soft smile, kissing him gently, “Imagine, we could have one by next Christmas, or one on the way.”

“Maybe babies. Multiples run in the family, you know,” he murmured, moving to place kisses along your jawline and you felt him grin against your skin.

“I’m not having twins,” you deadpanned, shaking your head at him fondly as you scoffed out a laugh. Fred pulled back a little, still grinning back at you cheekily as he gently rocked his hips against yours, making your head fall back against the pillow,

“Oh yeah? We’ll see about that, love.”

[oddaodd]

can you make one where the reader is the youngest maid in Tommy's house and she's helping serve the dinner for christmas and taking care of the kids and in some point Finn gets closer to her and try to flirt with her (she's just a few years older than him) and the reader don't know how to react but Tommy comes and help her (because he already likes the reader but don't get too close because she's too young for him) and by the end of the night when everybody is sleeping and they have sex

· A Whimsical Tale · 

Author’s note: I know we are no longer near Christmas but I love living a dangerous life so I’m just going to post this now.  

 Anddd I loved writing this story so thanks for requesting! and as always, I hope everyone has a lovely day. ❤️

Warnings: smut, mentions of alcohol and a drunken Finn. 

·

Christmas Day was a heavy day on Arrow House and despite the numerous staff, there was always something to be done. Y/n was one of the youngest maids so she was never the one in charge of cooking and preparing dinner, instead she helped pour drinks and look over the children, which Y/n was thankful for since it didn’t require as much elbow grease as cooking for an abundance of people.  

“More wine Tomm...” she caught her mistake and made it up clearing her throat “Mr. Shelby?”

“Thank you, Y/n” He politely answered pretending he hadn’t heard her almost call him Tommy.

Y/n poured the wine with shaky hands hoping that nobody  had noticed her mistake and blushing cheeks. She knew Tommy didn’t mind her calling him by his name when they were alone, but she wasn’t sure if he would still be as lax on the topic if there were other people present.

As she poured some for Ada, Polly gave her nephew a knowing stare that indicated she had noticed and knew what it implied, which triggered complex emotions in Tommy.

He enjoyed Y/n’s company when she served him breakfast and lit the chimney in his office and when sometimes she engaged in conversation with him. She told him everything about her life, whimsical tales of mundane occurrences that sounded worthy of a novel. He wondered what kind of character he played in it.

He would be lying if he were to say that he only enjoyed having her around because she was good at her job. Truth was, Tommy felt infatuated with her and her bubbly smile and occasional kind words when he was feeling the world closing in, but he knew he couldn’t do anything about it because she was much younger than him.

Y/n threw occasional smiles at Tommy through the night. She helped entertain the children while the other adults drank and enjoyed the evening. As the night progressed the alcohol began taking tolls, calling some to bed and inciting some others to questionable actions.

“Do you maybe want to go out sometime? Came Finn’s voice while Y/n tidied up around the kitchen.  

“Excuse me?” She asked even though she had heard him loud and clear.

“We should go out sometime” Finn spoke again in boozy confidence

“Um...” she began with an amused smile that disguised her discomfort for she wished the one asking were a different Shelby.

As if summoned by mention in a passing thought,  Tommy’s deep voice interrupted whatever excuse she was  machinating.

“Leave her be, Finn”

“But I’m not doing anything, Tom” he complained in a slur.

“You’re making a fool of yourself Finn” interrupted Arthur before dragging Finn away and out of the kitchen.

She didn’t miss the way Tommy’s eyes lingered on her figure before he left the room after his brothers.

After a while everybody including all the maids had gone to bed, Y/n stayed behind to have a cup of tea in the kitchen so she could mull over her feelings for Tommy in peace.

She had been attracted to him since her arrival to arrow house, but what began like a stupid crush soon turned into more complex feelings. She was always looking forward to seeing him and talking to him at late hours of the night at his office when he couldn’t sleep. She had tried not to think too much into his stares and considerate actions, but her infatuation with him had reached a point in which she couldn’t pretend not to notice.

She wanted his actions to hide a deeper meaning and she believed they did, but she felt her reasoning was tainted by her own wants. Tommy was significantly older than her and she felt immature in comparison.

“I knew you’d still be here”

She knew he would come.

She looked up from her teacup to the kitchen door to see Tommy strolling in. She forced a smile and shoved all her thoughts about him aside.

“Want a cup?” She signaled to the teapot as Tommy leaned against a cupboard.

“Alright” he said and Yn poured him a cup. His eyes following her every move. Her features seemed to be highlighted by the moonlight flowing in through the window making her look more divine than ever despite the tiredness hiding in her movements.

She felt an old wave of nerves creeping up her spine, making her heart beat faster and she didn’t know why. It wasn’t the first time Tommy and her were alone together, but that night’s air weighed differently.  

“Im sorry about Finn” he commented while she poured the tea.

“Its alright” she spoke softly walking towards him “Thanks for coming to my rescue”

Tommy’s mouth curved into a small smile, the way it did whenever she was around.

“Anytime” he said

“You are staring” she commented when she handed him the cup, noticing his gaze.

Tommy hummed taking a sip of his tea before placing it on the counter behind him, not even attempting to deny her accusation. “You look beautiful”

Her cheeks turned a soft shade of scarlet and her heartbeat quickened at his words. She wasn’t expecting him to say that. Still, she couldn’t help but smile at his honest complement.

Feeling comforted by the intimacy that the kitchen late at night provided, he cupped her face as leaned close to her lips. Y/n  did the same in a heartbeat and when their lips came together she felt a thousand matches lighting up inside her body.

She melted into the kiss as it turned more passionate, Tommy’s hands went to her waist, pulling her closer to him.

“Tell me to stop” he murmured against her lips.

“God no” she murmured back.

Tommy felt reassured knowing that she had wanted this just as badly as him and let himself get lost in the  soft moans and blissful sighs he coaxed from her with his wandering tongue and expert hands.  

Y/N hadn’t noticed Tommy began leading her to the table until she felt the cold surface against her lower back. Tommy prompted her up on it and smoothly hitched up her skirt. He ran his index finger teasingly along her clothed folds earning a whine from her pretty lips.

“Take them off Tommy” she pleaded.

Tommy complied and slid her underwear off her legs, his mind clouding at the sight of her, needy and wet in front of him. He kneeled in front of her and spread her legs open with his hands sending shivers through her body. Y/n felt her stomach drop in expectation at the sight of his handsome face close to her cunt.

“Tommy, ple..” Her place came short at the feeling of warm tongue on her sex. A teasing lick first that soon developed into passionate wet strokes and kisses  lapping against her folds and teasing at her entrance.

Her fingers tangled on his dark hair as she became a withering mess, submissive to Tommys experienced tongue. she felt her arousal building up, bringing her closer and close to the edge with each lick. She couldn’t get enough of him but she was eager to have him in her so bad.

“I need you inside me”

Tommy looked up at her with teasing eyes, her juices glistering on his chin and lips and when she felt the absence of his tongue on her she almost regretted being so impatient. But Tommy didn’t give her time to dwell on that regret when he went to passionately kiss her again and she felt his bulge through his trousers against her bare entrance.

Her impatient hands went to fumble with the buttons that held the basted trousers in place and Tommys went to assist her moments after, never breaking apart from the searing kiss, Y/n got a glimpse of Tommy’s cock and she felt like gasping when she felt Tommy guiding his head to tease at her entrance.

She moaned at the feeling and gasped when he pushed into her.

“So fucking tight” he whispered to her ear.

She sighed lewdly at his sinful praise and when he was fully inside her she felt so sinfully full she wondered how she could have lived for so long without this feeling.

She held onto his broad shoulders as he started pumping in and out of her, teasingly slow at first and speeding up deliciously with each thrust.

The table started creaking under her and the teacup and cup she had put there earlier fell off at their movements, loudly crashing onto the floor. She felt a twinge of concern about the noise, trying to break through the dense cloud of pleasure Tommy had summoned around her. However, Said concern became less and less concerning with each thrust of Tommy’s. It was the stuff of dreams.

He felt her clenching around his cock telling her that she was close. He wanted to make her cum, he needed to make her cum.  

He began rubbing circles on her sensitive bundle of nerves and soon after she came beautifully. Her legs tightened around his waist wanting to keep him close, still reeling in the aftershock of her orgasm as Tommy chased his own, which came not long after with a groan of her name. The expression of his face as he came into her was one Y/n knew would never leave her mind.

“What if somebody heard us?” She whispered as she collected her discarded garments with a smile.

“I hope they heard. Maybe that way Finn will know better next time”

·

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy @writeroutoftime @babylooneytoonz

[xaphrin]

I am hoping to post this whole fic all at once, but I was so happy with this chapter that I wanted to share it. So, here. Have some "I wasn't supposed to fall in love with my wedding baker" AU.

- - -

When Damian opened the door to find Raven standing in the hallway, the expression on her face spoke volumes about her feelings of being here when most people were dead asleep.

She adjusted the large plastic container in her hands and shook a lock of hair out of her eyes. “You are aware that it’s two in the morning, right?”

Damian knew. Of course he did. A part of him almost felt apologetic for calling Raven and forcing her to come to his home in the middle of the night (especially over something as insignificant as lemon curd), but with the premium he was paying her for an off-hours house call, he didn’t allow that apology to take root. He’d been accused of being a “night owl” on more than one occasion, but the truth was that he suffered from occasional bouts of insomnia. And if he had to suffer through this ailment, then so should others - including the baker for his wedding.

“I’m paying you enough to make up for your interrupted sleep schedule.” Without any ceremony, he ushered her into his penthouse, closing the door behind her. Titus pushed past him and nudged Raven’s hip, begging for pets. Damian couldn’t help but notice that Titus paid Raven more attention than he paid his own fiance. “Sleep when you’re dead.”

Raven’s lips pulled to the side in a teasing half-smile, her eyes meeting his. “How chivalrous of you.” There was a small pause as she set the plastic container down on a small table by the door and bent down to scratch Titus behind the ears. “You know that your night time doorman seems to think I’m here for purposes other than cake. Why else would some strange woman be visiting you at an unreasonable hour?”

Damian didn’t care what his doorman thought, and he highly doubted Raven cared. She was just trying to get under his skin. He shrugged and turned away from her, motioning her to follow him deeper into his flat. “I hardly see how that is my problem. Besides, didn’t you say that you get up at four in the morning anyway?”

Her face fell. “That is entirely beside the point, and you know that, Mr. Wayne.”

“You can call me Damian.” He had reminded her of that fact at least half a dozen times now.

“Ha.” Her sarcastic laugh made him smirk. “No one calls a Wayne by their first name. It’s akin to social suicide. I’d be willing to bet that you even call your father Mr. Wayne.”

Damian walked her through the massive living room, heading towards the kitchen at the far end of his flat. “Only on holidays, and the occasional birthday.”

Raven snorted. “Ah. I see how deep the decorum runs.” As they walked into the kitchen, her face lit up with surprise, and she let go of a low whistle. Pushing past him, she inspected the appliances with blatant envy. “Do you even know what I would do to have this oven in my posession? I would commit war crimes to get this oven in my apartment.” She opened the oven doors and looked inside before standing up and turning to him, eyes narrowing. “Is this just for show? Do you even bake?”

“No.”

Raven closed the oven door and sighed. “Pity.”

“I cook.”

That seemed to pique her interest, and she leaned against the marble countertop, watching him with a sharp stare. There was a long stretch of silence, and it felt like her eyes were boring into him, stripping away everything that protected him until it felt like each flaw was exposed to her scrutiny. In any other situation, Damian would have slammed up some kind of barrier to keep her from looking too deep, but this time he found himself oddly comfortable with letting her investigate him. He didn’t mind showing her his weaknesses, and that thought should have scared him, but it didn’t. He kept his face blank and let her watch him.

“You know… I am having a hard time imagining you slaving over a stove in a hot kitchen.” Her head tilted to the side and she smirked. “Although I like the thought of you wearing a frilly apron. A soft pink one, with ruffles and bows.”

His face fell and he crossed his arms over his chest. Cheeky. “I am docking your home visit fee until you take that back.”

“Mm. Worth it.” She turned away from him, and reached for the plastic container on the counter, unsnapping the lid. In an instant, Titus was at her side and Damian watched her sneak him a treat she had obviously made for him. Raven seemed to make herself at home in his kitchen, as if she belonged there. He found himself smiling at her, and a strange kind of warmth filled his chest.

“So, tell me your fear with the lemon curd, and why it was so imperative that you force me out of bed at two o’clock in the morning to travel all the way across town with cake samples.”

Well, when she put it like that, it did make him sound like a typical, spoiled son of an eccentric billionaire. Damian ignored that small spot of guilt again and settled on a stool at the eat-in counter. “I think my fiance is allergic to lemons… or curd. I can’t remember, but it’s one of those.” He thought for a long moment, trying to remember what it was that she had said last time he had spoken to his fiance.

“You can’t remember?” Raven turned back around and looked at him, her expression incredulous. “Haven’t you two known each other for years? That's what all the tabloids say anyway.”

Oh, right. The tabloids were spinning the relationship into some falsehood of star-crossed lovers who used to be childhood best friends. The truth was far less interesting. “We have known of each other for years. We’ve crossed paths at various parties and events, and my father and hers have a mutual business relationship. But, knowing each other implies some kind of deep, long term relationship. Something more than casual friends.”

“Ah.” Raven rummaged through his cabinets for plates, setting them next to the plastic container containing cake samples. “And I take it that’s not what you have with the daughter of Queen Consolidated?”

Damian shrugged, knowing that talking about the arrangement was opening himself to all kinds of scrutiny from her. But, there was something about Raven that made it almost comfortable to open up to her. In all the times they had been together, she never seemed like the type to spill his secrets. In fact, she seemed to keep them closer than most people he knew. He actually liked talking to her - even with her cheeky attitude. “We’ve only been together in an official capacity for a few months.”

“Oh…”

Her tone seemed to waffle between pity and understanding, and Damian felt like he had to scramble for an explanation. It felt like he didn’t want her to think less of him as a person.

“The marriage is one of a business nature. Our families would be brought together with the marriage of children. It would strengthen the ties between us.” After saying it out loud, Damian realized how cynical that sounded. It was more than just a business move. For all intents and purposes, he liked Emiko, she was smart and polite and reasonably attractive. Marrying her was a good, sound move. He would be content though their marriage.

“I didn’t realize that was still a thing - marrying for business purposes.” Raven pulled out cake samples from the plastic box and placed them on the counter. “Sounds a little medieval, if you ask me.”

Damian shrugged, not feeling any particular way about her comments. “She’s a lovely woman.”

“Is she?” Raven scoffed. “My landlady is a lovely woman. The mail person is a lovely woman. The person who delivers my takeaway is a lovely woman." She gave him a flat stare, pursing her lips. "Lovely woman is not a term of endearment you use for someone you're madly in love with."

"I never said I was madly in love with her."

"Ah. I see. I must have misunderstood." She handed him a slice of cake, her eyes as sharp as a hawk’s as she watched him. "Raspberry and chocolate." She paused. "Is that the business agreement to the marriage then? You marry Emiko Queen, and in return both families have fingers in each other’s pots… so to speak.”

"Yes." Damian took a bite of the cake, and he tasted the sharp tartness of the raspberry at the forefront of the cake before melting away to luscious chocolate. Just like the first time he tasted her cakes, he barely kept himself from moaning in pleasure. She had to bake magic into her cakes for them to taste this damn good. He chewed slowly, letting himself wallow in the flavor.

"Does she love you?"

Damian swallowed and stared at her. The question caught him off guard. He knew for certain he didn’t love her, but he had never really thought about whether or not she loved him. "That's forward of you."

"Asking if your fiance loves you?" She snorted and lifted her eyes to the ceiling. "You're right. How rude of me." Another slice of cake appeared. "Pistachio and cardamom."

He took a bite and tamped down a shiver. She was a magician, there was no other explanation. The flavor curled in his mouth like spiced smoke. "It'll be a fine arrangement."

"Mm. How romantic, an arrangement. Be still my fluttering heart."

Damian rolled his eyes and took another bite of cake. "I am amazed you manage to keep clients with the mouth on you."

She gave a one shouldered shrug. "I let my work speak for me." There was a pause and she leaned over the counter to look closer at him, trying to decipher his expression. “But you never answered my question. Does she love you?”

Damian blinked, letting her question settle in the pit of his stomach. Did his fiance love him? He doubted it, but then again, he never thought to ask. Emiko wasn’t frigid to him, but she wasn’t overly attached either. Indifferent seemed to be the best way to describe her feelings, as though she cared for him as nothing more than a distant friend. She seemed to view this arrangement the same way he did - a duty to her family and a business transaction. Nothing more.

“Your silence speaks volumes.” Raven’s head tilted to the side and she stared at him again, blatantly reading his face. He felt uncomfortable, letting her sharp eyes watch him. She seemed to see more than anyone else had. “I see hundreds of couples a year, and I’ve learned to pick out who truly cares for each other, and who really doesn't know what they want."

Damian took another bite of the pistachio cake, never looking away from her face. Even when she was picking him apart, she was beautiful. "And I take it that you believe I'm the latter?"

"I don't just believe, I know." She handed him another slice of cake. "Orange spice."

"I'm not particular about marrying for love. I've never subscribed to the idea." The orange spice was by far the best, and it immediately went on the short-list.

A pitying look crossed her face. "You don't believe in love?"

That question made him pause, and he looked back at her, his head filled with something akin to smoke. It was like he couldn’t think beyond her question. "I… don't know." He realized with some small amount of shock that he really didn't know. As he sat there, watching her, he realized that he never thought he would fall in love. He had crushes and minor relationships, but nothing that he would call love. Nothing that made him feel like the world was falling out from under his feet, and he was left clamoring for something that made him whole.

“You look surprised by your own answer.” Raven’s voice was soft, nearly swallowed up by the silence between them. “Did you honestly think you would never fall in love?”

“I suppose I did.” Damian took another bite of cake and shifted in his seat. “Love never seemed like something I gave much thought to. My duty has always been to my family, and as long as I am comfortable, I don’t see the need for much else.”

Raven pulled out another slice of cake. “Have you thought that maybe you haven’t met the right person?”

Damian’s face fell and he stared at her, taking the slice of cake from her. “That seems a trite response.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps. That’s vanilla and rose water.”

Damian’s face scrunched at the flavor and he pushed it away. “That rose water is abhorrent.”

A soft laugh escaped and Raven shook her head. “Rose water is very en vogue right now. I’m not fond of it, but some people like it.” She took the slice back and leaned against the counter. “So, tell me if you don’t mind, why are you putting all this effort into a wedding with someone you don't have feelings for?"

"It's meant to be a performance." He hummed softly, thinking. “Both of our families have a reputation to uphold, and if we don’t live up to that expected standard, the media will tear us apart. Emiko doesn’t need any poor publicity.”

“Mm. I understand to a point.” She paused and pulled out another slice of cake. “You’re very pragmatic about this.”

The way she said that didn’t sound like a compliment. Damian took the offered cake. “I don’t require your approval.”

“I never said you did. I’m only in this for the absolutely exorbitant fee you’re paying me.” She smirked. “But… I am curious, don’t you want to fall in love? Just once?”

“And who would I fall in love with?” He took a bite of cake and practically sighed. Chocolate and orange.

“You’re a Wayne. More than half the world would be willing to fall in love with you. Take your pick.”

“I don’t think you can force love.”

Raven shrugged. “Well, your upstanding camaraderie with your fiance doesn’t fit the bill either.”

He blinked and took another bite of the cake. This was the one. “I never intended to love her. Our partnership will be fine.”

Raven lifted an eyebrow. “So… what happens if you fall in love with someone before you get married?”

“I hardly think that will happen.” He scoffed and took a third bite of the cake. He doubted he would find anyone who could coax him to fall in love. That seemed like an impossible task. “And even if I did, it changes nothing.”

“You’re so committed to this marriage. It’s admirable.” Her smile widened. “I take it the orange and chocolate one is the winner? You’ve eaten half the slice already.”

“You’re talented at this.” He took another bite and met her stare. “What about you?”

“I think the chocolate orange will both make a statement and still be appropriately conservative.”

“That’s not what I asked.” His eyes searched hers, and he suddenly realized he had to know. He had to know if there was anyone in her life that meant more than just a friend. He wanted to know who her heart beat for. “Are you in love?”

Color crawled up her neck. “That’s a pretty personal question to ask your baker.”

Damian shrugged. “For what I’m paying you, humor me.”

She chewed on her lower lip and glanced away, and she shifted for a moment. “Currently? No. I was in love once, but… it faded.” She looked back into his eyes. “But that doesn’t make it any more special and important.”

"And you want to fall in love again?" He felt strange and a little invasive asking these questions, but some part of him wanted to know. He wanted to know not just about falling in love, but Raven falling in love specifically. Would she fall in love again? And with whom?

"Of course." Her voice was soft and gentle, and she gave him a small, almost sad smile. "I haven’t found the right person to fall for just yet. But it’ll come.”

Something in Damian’s chest twisted and he found himself reaching across the counter to rest his hand next to hers. It was as close as he dared to get to her. She met his stare for a long moment, and that feeling in his chest turned almost painful. He wanted to brush a stray lock of hair from her face, to feel her skin under his fingertips, but his hand stayed firmly pressed against the cool marble of the counter.

He swallowed slowly and nodded. “The chocolate orange.”

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Hey! I love your meta’s, a little while ago you talked about The Order of the Phoenix as an organization could you talk about the Death Eaters?

The post anon is referencing.

TL;DR the Order is incompetently hilarious and Dumbledore is a man who trusts no one.

Oh, the Death Eaters, what to say about the Death Eaters...

In a World Without Voldemort, They'd Probably Be Arsonists

One of the things JKR implies in the series, and something fandom seems to take for granted, is that Tom Riddle is the ultimate corrupting influence.

Were it not for him, the Wizarding World would be a much better place, and people like Bellatrix LeStrange would be productive members of society.

As soon as he is killed, even, by Harry, the good guys win, their problems all presumably solved, and Harry tells his son Albus Severus that it's totally fine if he's put into Slytherin.

I don't believe that though.

To me, it's not so much that Tom Riddle corrupted these people, but that he gave them an organized cause. The people themselves, oh, they were itching for a fight.

In a world without Tom I think they'd be a loosely, poorly organized, group (probably with Bellatrix as the ring leader) where they commit acts of domestic terrorism probably involving burning offensive shops to the ground or attacking muggleborns, halfbloods, and blood traitors.

Voldemort, to me, is designed to pander to them (and not the other way around).

The Death Eaters' Beginnings

So, first off, I think Tom's goals are not what he says they are. What he represents to his followers is exactly what they want to hear, wrapped in a grandiose theatric bow that they just love.

But how did this all start?

First, I don't believe in the Knights of Walpurgis. Instead I think Tom came relatively out of nowhere in the 70's uses parseltongue to prove his heritage as the Heir of Slytherin and thus of purer blood than any of them.

He throws these exciting rallies/parties that the rebellious, angsty, teenage heirs all go to. There he says everything they wanted to hear in the most eloquent manner they've ever heard, promises them the action that their fathers have never delivered, promises them a role in the glorious revolution and a place in history, and probably offers them mounds of cocaine.

All the Death Eaters we see, or the core of them, appear to be in this age range where they'd be in Hogwarts or just out of it when Voldemort came knocking. I can imagine they're all whipped up with excitement, YEAH LET'S BLOW UP THE MUDBLOODS and for some that's great, for others... things don't go the way they expected.

October 31, 1981: It All Falls Apart

Regulus famously steals Tom's horcrux. I imagine it wasn't so much that he learned the error of his ways but that he saw what Tom Riddle was really after: the destruction of his very society.

Lucius is riding high until October 31, 1981 and he sees the complete destruction of the entire Black family. Lucius' priorities greatly shift and as he grows older he prays Voldemort never returns. Unfortunately, Tom does, and he charges interest.

Bellatrix absolutely loses her mind, refuses to accept reality, and tries to torture the Longbottoms for information they do not possess. She is imprisoned in Azkaban and never truly recovers from this.

Snape ends up the cause of death for Lily Evans and must forever live with the guilt and be tied to her prophesied son. He also becomes Dumbledore's lackey forever, which ultimately gets him killed.

Point being, no one's having a good time. Some because they figure out being a Death Eater wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and others because they had the Voldemort rug pulled out from under their feet when Tom Riddle disappears.

Pettigrew flees and lives as the Weasley rat for nearly fifteen years.

They're left making a mad scramble as they try to pick up the pieces of their lives.

Canon Catches Up

More than ten years go by and then suddenly, in a muggle graveyard, the surviving Death Eaters discover that they are bound to Voldemort for the rest of their lives.

Death cannot stop this man and he has branded them: there's no escape.

Some are still enthusiastic supporters of the cause: Bellatrix is vindicated that her lord has returned, he rescues her from hell on earth, and everything's finally coming up Bella. Barty is similar in actively working for Voldemort's resurrection.

Lucius, meanwhile, lives in constant terror. Karkaroff desperately flees the country and hopes Tom will not find him. Snape, is in fact, Dumbledore's agent. Pettigrew only returned in utter desperation and has now cut off his own hand.

They're not the young men they were, some of them have families, to some of the past ten years have been utterly miserable. They have to watch as their children make the same damn mistakes they did, be sucked into this same hell hole, and there's nothing they can do about it.

There is a notable reluctance for the cause, and yet, they have to try with the same vigor or this madman will kill them all.

And it's all worthless anyway: come 1998, Voldemort dies again (perhaps for real this time, who knows, Harry Potter seems to think so for whatever reason) and then they are imprisoned for their acts as Death Eaters.

And they just laugh, because how badly Lucius wishes he could go back in time and tell his eighteen-year-old self, "YOU DUMB FUCK, LEAVE NOW!"

But Do They Learn Anything?

No.

Just because we see some of them regret being Death Eaters doesn't mean they regret their beliefs. Their beliefs were fine, even blowing up people here and there, a bit gauche but fine.

But maybe following Voldemort blindly was a bad idea.

Are They More Competent Than the Order?

No.

Tom Riddle is terrifyingly competent in that he infiltrates the government with ease, has spies everywhere, and all but proclaims himself minister one day and nobody blinks.

He gains the full support of most of the wizarding world's wealthiest and prestigious families.

But he doesn't actually give these people anything to do. Because there's nothing for them to do, with them, Tom's won. He owns the Wizengamot, the Ministry, everything.

There's no need to fight. It's over, there never was a war. Society is primed to accept Tom Riddle as their ruler.

However, the likes of Bellatrix LeStrange thinks there's a glorious war on, so "uh, go out and blow up a few muggles, have fun." And the young Death Eaters (and the older ones), think they've committed this great, daring, brave, and very important act.

Tom only seems to hand out real assignments when in desperate straits or else when being particularly vindictive.

Lucius, after messing up with the diary, is told to retrieve a prophecy he is not allowed to touch in a department of the ministry he should have no access to. If he fails: Tom kills his entire family. When Lucius does fail, Tom assigns his son to assassinate an already dying Dumbledore. These aren't real tasks, though they do have the appearance of one, and consequences for failure.

Barty, Tom is forced to rely on, as he is trapped in this dying infant's body. And better Barty, someone who is truly loyal and seems fairly clever, than Peter Pettigrew who is a miserable scum bag who'd sell his grandmother for a bar of soap.

Barty, of course, fucks this up. Rather than just kidnap Harry Potter at any of the many easy points this could be done (Hogsmeade trip, lure Harry out to Hogsmeade with super secret serial information about Voldemort/Snape being a Death Eater, etc.), Barty is determined to make use of the Triwizard Tournament to destroy his father's legacy.

This means rather than a few weeks, it takes months to kidnap Harry, and even then they bring along an extra boy who then gets killed and provides some evidence that Tom Riddle has in fact returned. (Somebody murdered Cedric). It takes months and Barty actively ensuring Harry makes it through the tournament and does well, leaving open the possibility that he might get caught helping Harry cheat at any moment. And of course, Barty has to pretend to be Madeye Moody for months, keeping his man locked and drugged in his trunk.

Thankfully, Moody's such a paranoid wreck, no one even notices.

Quirrell, Tom is forced to rely on. Quirrell fucks up, though admittedly not as badly as Barty. Quirrell fails to steal the stone when it's in transit/in Gringotts. He fails to murder Harry Potter, an eleven year old boy in the world's most dangerous school. He rouses Snape's suspicion almost immediately. Then of course he doesn't get the stone. He at least gets to the room with the stone and nearly overpowers Harry and gets it had he not been mysteriously lit on fire by the power of love/Lily Evans.

The only one Tom ever really relies on by choice is Snape. Snape is charged with spying on Dumbledore and later running Hogwarts (which he fucks up).

There is only one competent man in Britain: Severus Snape. Which is, of course, why he's a double agent that Dumbledore and Tom both extensively rely on despite his being a double agent.

There's no one else.

Tom Riddle doesn't make use of the Death Eaters but given they prove themselves enthusiastically incompetent at every turn I don't blame him. Just pretend to give them something to do and hope it makes them feel important.

That's all I've got in general, you want anything else you'll have to ask for something more specific.

[ly0nstea]

Eren was Ymir's Puppet

I talked about this in a much longer post but I wanted to devote a whole post to it so, here goes.

What I'm positting is that everything Eren did, at the very least in the broadstrokes, was predetermined by Ymir herself in the paths.

Here's the timeline, 1x01, To you, 2,000 years in the future. The first scene after the opening credits is Eren's dream. Now, Eren didn't have a titan at this point, so this wasn't the Attack Titan's abilities. In Eren's dreams he sees Dina Fritz's titan and his mother being picked up, these are scenes from the same and the next episode that Eren directly sees, this isn't déjà vu, its predictive. So, if it wasn't from his titan ability, then what was it?

Ymir.

Let me explain, the flashes of Eren's dream we see are, what seems to be a man screaming(maybe a titan, maybe not), then a shot of a man falling dead, from his collar he seems to be wearing a survey corps uniform, a windmill in an open field surrounded by forest which titans then appear on suddenly in a flash (Not a yellow lightning flash, more of a static flash). The side profile of a man who looks older, only the middle have of his face is shown (from the top of his nose to his upper lip), a regal looking statue with the head and hand destroyed lying by a lit fire, six childrens toys on a bed, next to closed curtains, the curtains are vertically striped red and green, on the red ones there's a symbol appearing to be a white flower, on the green is a symbol with a crown on top of it. Several scout bodies in a raining forest. A (presumably) dead man with a wasp by his eye, Dina Fritz's titan mouth, and then Carla Jaegar being grabbed by Dina's titan.

But why would Ymir show these images to Eren? Well, what Ymir needs to do is set Eren down a path where he will A) meet her, and B) free her from the eternity of the paths. How does she do that? She sets Eren down a path of freedom.

Firstly, she showed him the survey corps being massacred, a continuation of what we saw in the pre-OP. We know Eren loves the Survey Corps, seeing them massacred would devastate him and notably, Eren wakes up from the dream crying. Ymir is trying to leave an impression on Eren, and showing him his aspiration, his heroes being massacred would certainly leave an impression and motivate him to move forward.

Then with the windmill, the appearance of titans, this could be a warning to Eren over how in only a few hours titans are going to suddenly appear, or it could be a foreshadow to the ability to turn humans into titans spontaineuosly that we see in season 2/3/4.

The man's side profile could be anyone, King Fritz, Pyxis, the false king, any old man really. The combination of the sudden appearance of titans, and an old man could allude to Ymir's origin story, how the titans appeared after she fell in the tree and soon after was brought in by King Fritz, a way of showing Eren her life, getting him to sympathise with her years before he would meet her.

The next image I believe backs up that claim, because after the titans appear, and Ymir meets Fritz what happens next? He impregnates her, and the next image is childrens toys against royal looking curtains.

After Eren is showed Ymir's life story, we flash back to dead Survey Corps members, the flashes back and forth from Ymir and the survey corps would make eren want to sympathise with Ymir, having her put against things he knows he feels bad about.

We then see a wasp on the eye of a dead man which again could mean anything. It could signal Ymir's death? Eren's? There's no way to tell.

And the final two images are a close up of Dina Fritz's titan mouth, and Dina's titan lifting Carla Jaegar. These are things that Eren sees through his own eyes hours later. Which confirms that this dream is preminiscient, or sent back from the future. We've already established that Eren can't be preminiscient as he doesn't have any titan powers, and the dolls and statue aren't things Eren ever sees himself (to our knowledge) so he can't be sending himself the memories.

So, if it was Ymir, how and when did Ymir send it? Well, none other than episode 80, From you, 2,000 years ago, which is the episode we find Ymir's backstory. At the start of that episode, Eren grabs Ymir, and its that moment where she sends the child Eren the dream.

Attack on Titan is no stranger to paradoxes and time loops, Eren shouldn't have a titan because him acquiring a titan relies on him already having the titan in the future, and the paths is a place that exists outside of time. So it's more than reasonable to assume that Ymir could've, using Eren's abilities (Like Zeke was going to) altered Eren's own memories to send back to episode one, hence the episode titles, to you, and from you, its Ymir sending Eren her memories from 2,000 in the past.

If there's anything that Ymir's life is going to make a person feel it's a need for personal freedom. Ymir spent her whole life as a slave, and experiencing that, possibly through her own eyes, would break anyones heart.

Eren's desire, his want for freedom is what set the events of the show in motion, its what pushed him to graduate top 10 in the cadets, join the survey corps, and eventually commit the rumbling but Ymir doesn't care about the rumbling, she's been dead far too long.

Now, we never get strict confirmation on what happens after the story, and this dream is anime exclusive so, it's only canon to the anime and im extrapolating from the manga ending but, at the very least, we know that Ymir doesn't have to make any more titans. We don't know if she's still in the paths, if the paths even still exist, but we know she's been freed of the burden of making new titans like she did or 2,000 years. Ymir is free, atleast somewhat, Eren got what he wanted,

If this is true, that would mean that everything Eren did was dictated and preplanned out by Ymir to some degree, and Eren was her slave for most of his life. There's a lot of ironies to be found there but, this post is long enough and its 2:30 am.

tl;dr: the dream had to be sent from somewhere, the episode titles and dream itself heavily imply it was from Ymir, and by the end of the story the only person who's universally better off is Ymir.

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter eleven rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

In Case You Don’t Live Forever by Ben Platt

The next morning at 6 am, you got in a taxi and made your way to the airport. You packed up all your clothes the night before and told MJ to ship anything else to you. You figured if you waited until a few months, things between you and Peter would be settled and it wouldn’t be too awkward. Or sad. You mainly felt sad.

The sun was rising and your cab sat in stand still traffic. You wiped a few stray tears and looked out the window. You noticed a few people standing by the edge of the highway, taking pictures of the bridge. You couldn’t see because of the glare of the sun in your eyes. You figured it was a sky writer or something like that. But then you noticed people getting out of their cars to take pictures.

“What’s going on?” You asked the cab driver. He turned around. He was an older man with grey hair and thin, black tinted sunglasses. A kind smile poked out from under his mustache.

“There’s something written on the bridge.” He answered.

“Something on the bridge?” You asked.

“See for yourself. We’re not moving anytime soon.”

You got out of the car and squinted in the bridge. Your heart immediately stopped at what you saw. You walked towards the edge of the highway and leaned against the railing. Tears trickled down your eyes, happy ones this time. You blinked them away, not wanting anything to obstruct your view of the bridge.

There on the bridge in big webbed letters spelled out the undeniable phrase:

I LOVE YOU

Just as you were admiring it, Spider-Man swung down and swept you up in his arms. You heard applause and cheering as you two swung away. You held on tightly, as did Spider-Man. He landed on the top of one of the posts of the bridge and set you down, never taking his arms off of your waist. Likewise, you kept your arms around his neck and pressed your body close.

Peter quickly took off his mask and smiled at you. His eyes were puffy, surely from crying. But the loving look in his eyes remained.

“Did you get my message?” He asked excitedly.

“What message?” You played coy.

“On the bridge.” Peter said, not detecting your sarcasm.

“Oh, that was you? I couldn’t make it out. What did it say?” You asked. You knew exactly what it said.

“It said I love you.” Peter said proudly. “It was gonna say ‘I love you Y/n L/n please don’t move to San Francisco’ but I was on a time crunch and it’s very hard to write things on a bridge in webs. I practiced on the Brooklyn Bridge first and I accidentally wrote ‘I larb you.’ But that wasn’t what I wanted to say. What I wanted to say is, you’re wrong. You’re wrong about us being on different paths. We’re not on different paths, Y/n. Because you’re my path. I’ll give up Spider-Man. He means nothing to me if I don’t have you. I mean it. You and I are meant to be. If I know anything at all to be true, it’s that. I can’t imagine life without you. So if you go to San Francisco, I’m coming too. Hell, wherever you go, I’m coming too. They have crime in San Francisco, right? What I’m trying to say is, I love you, Y/n L/n. I am so in love with you. And nothing can keep me away.” Peter professed. You held him tighter and pressed your nose into his.

“I love you too, Peter Parker.” You whispered. “With all my heart.”

“Then will you stay with me? Or allow me to come with you?” Peter asked hopefully.

How could you say no? Every time you thought you could shut the door on Peter, he found a window.

“The world is rooting against us Peter.” You said. His face fell and his grip on your hips loosened. “But if it’s you and me against the world, then so be it.”

Peters smile lit up his entire face when you finished your sentence. He dipped you and kissed you passionately.

“I love you. I love you so much. I can never say it enough.” Peter said as he pressed kisses into your neck.

“I love you too.” You said back. You knew you should feel terrified given your fear of heights, but you couldn’t feel safer in Peters iron grip.

“Can we go home? I need to hold you for an entire day to make up for the time we were broken up.” Peter asked. You laughed.

“We were broken up for less than 8 hours.” You reminded him.

“8 hours of pure torture.” He fake gasped.

“Come on. Let’s get your stuff from the cab and go home. Did I mention you’re moving in? And that we’re getting married? Also what are we naming our children? Do you want it get a cat together?” Peter joked as he tightened his grip around your waist. A part of you hoped he wasn’t joking though. You wanted that with Peter. All of that. Even that cat.

“Does our apartment even allow cats?” You laughed.

“No.” He shook his head. “But if my baby wants one, we’ll get one. I want to start our lives now. I don’t want to miss another second apart from you. I’m serious. Never leave me again.” Peter said, tugging you into a tight hug. He nuzzled into your neck and pressed soft kisses there.

“I won’t. I won’t ever. I promise.”

Peter swung you back to the apartment after collecting your things from the cab. You spent the day in Peters bed just cuddling and talking about all the things you never could before.

“And then he told me you were going back to San Francisco to be with him.” Peter laughed as he told you about his encounter with Andy.

“I can’t believe he lied to you like that.” You shook your head. “He’s such an idiot.”

“He would’ve been a dead idiot if I had known he kissed you.” Peter joked.

“Hm. And I thought I was the only killer here.” You smirked as you pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“What are your powers?” Peter asked as he brushed your hair out of your face. You kissed his thumb lightly.

“Same as you. Super strength, super hearing, climbing walls. And I have acid spit and resistivity to bullets. But I don’t have your uh…Peter tingle.” You told him. Peter chuckled softly.

“It’s called my spidey sense.” Peter corrected.

“That’s really not much better than Peter tingle.” You teased.

“Shut up. What about your weaknesses?” Peter asked. You toyed with his fingers.

“Fire. And sound. We hate sound.” You said.

“All sounds?” Peter asked curiously.

“No. Not all sounds. Just loud ones. Car alarms, feedback, amps, things like that.” You answered.

“What happens to you when you encounter fire or sound?”

“What’s with all the questions? You’re not trying to take me down, are you?” You teased. Peter laughed and shook his head.

“No. I just want to know everything about you.”

“Well sound makes Venom separate from me. And fire kills.” You said, remembering that night on Carlton Drakes rocket when the fire killed him and Riot.

“Both of you die?” He asked nervously.

“Both of us. Venom and I keep each other alive. If we were separated, we’d both die.” You told Peter. Peter looked at the ceiling with a weird look on his face. His heart was beating extremely fast. You took it as him being scared of you dying.

“But don’t worry about that. Venom and I are never going to be separated. No one knows our weaknesses.” You assured Peter. You felt a little strange sharing all your weaknesses with your former enemy, but you knew Peter would never try to hurt you it use them against you.

“What about you? What are your weaknesses?” You asked.

“You.” Peter smiled. You smiled back before something shiny in his closet caught your eye.

“Is that a keyboard?” You asked as you sat up and went into his closet. Peter sat up as well and rubbed his eyes.

“Oh, yeah. I used to play when I was younger. My uncle taught me. Do you play?”

You retrieved the keyboard and sat on Peters bed, answered his question by playing a few notes. Peter scooted next to you and slipped an arm around your waist.

“Play me something.” Peter said softly. It wasn’t demanding, it was a sweet request.

“I haven’t in so long.” You muttered as you began to press down on a few random keys. The keyboard made strangled sounds at first until you slowly began playing a song you had fallen in love with.

“I, I’ve carried this song in my mind. Listen, it’s echoing in me. But I haven’t helped you to hear it.”

You sang softly as you got the hang of playing the keyboard again. Peter looked wonderstruck at you. He didn’t know you had such a lovely voice. He didn’t recognize the song but he wanted to hear you play forever.

“We, we’ve only got so much time. I’m pretty sure it would kill me if you didn’t know the pieces of me are pieces of you.”

You sang with a little more confidence as the song progressed. Your voice wasn’t great but it was everything and more to Peter. Peter began to pick up on the pattern you were playing and softly rested his hands on the keys on his side.

“I’ve waited way too long to say everything you mean to me.” you dragged out the last note before going all in on the keyboard.

“In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you now. I love you more than you’ll ever wrap your head around.” You looked into Peters eyes and he looked deeply into yours. He leaned in so that his lips ghosted yours, but never touched.

“In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you the truth. I’m everything that I am because of you.”

You felt tears of joy pricking at your eyes. Peter felt it too. The moment was pure bliss. It was just you and the boy you loved. Nothing could ruin it.

“I have a hero whenever I need one. I just look up to you and I see one. I’m a man ‘cause you taught me to be one.”

Peter liked the hero line. It made the song perfect, like it was written just for the two of you. He had begun to play along with you and you finished out the song together, never breaking eye contact.

“In case you don’t live forever, let me tell you the truth. As long as I’m here as I am, so are you.” You finished. You and Peter took your hands off the keyboard and immediately pulled the other into a kiss. The keyboard fell to the floor with a clang but you didn’t even hear it.

“I love you. More than anything this world has to offer.” Peter said against your lips. You smiled and kissed him again. He tasted like strawberry chapstick this time. It was yours. He must’ve swiped it from you one day. You didn’t mind.

“Did you steal my chapstick?” You giggled against his mouth.

“Yes. But you stole my heart. Fair trade.” He argued playfully. You laughed and kissed his cheeks.

“It’s okay. You can keep it. What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is ours.” You told him as you ran your fingers through his chestnut hair.

“That’s so cute.” Peter whined.

“I know. I stole it from the Little Rascals.” You admitted sheepishly. He hit you with his pillow before tackling you onto the bed.

You spent the remainder of the day just like that until you had to leave for your final interview with Cletus Kasady.

“Y/n! My favorite gal. Sit down. I have so much to tell you. I got something real good for your story.” Cletus said upon your entry into his cell. You’d been interviewing him for about three months now. It was almost July and you two met in April. You had come to trust him and no longer needed a security guard to stand in the room with you while you talked. You also graduated from talking through those glass windows with telephones on either side to being allowed into his cell. He was still handcuffed to his chair and kept in a cage, so you had no fear of him harming you. You’d actually come to like him in a way. Sure, he killed people, but so had you. He was still charismatic and made you laugh every now and then.

“Nice to see you Cletus. What do you have to tell me?” You asked as you took a seat. Your eyes wandered to the partial wall at the bottom of his cage. You had grown accustomed to his habit of writing on his cell walls with his own blood, but this particular message made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. In big bloody letters it read:

WELCOME VENOM

You swallowed despite your throat being bone dry. Cletus gave you his signature smirk.

“I got me a bug. Just like you.” He drawled. He smiled at your proudly. You felt yourself beginning to sweat.

“A bug?” You asked.

“Are you familiar with the concept of asexual reproduction?” Cletus questioned. You nodded.

“Yes. It’s what plants do. Why?” You asked back. Where was he going with this?

“Not just plants. Symbiotes too.” Cletus stated. Your body went cold with fear. You immediately felt uneasy with the way he was looking at you. He didn’t blink, and had his face frozen with that smirk.

“Y/n.” Venom said cautiously. She held your hand and gripped it tightly for comfort.

“I’m sorry?” You asked. Your voice came out barely above a whisper.

“Yup. And sometimes, they don’t even know when they asexually reproduce. It could happen anywhere. Even in a prison cell.” Cletus continued. You began to piece together the story. Cletus suddenly leaned forward, as far as he could go with his restraints and lowered his voice.

“You and I are no different. We’re both killers. But you get to roam the streets freely while we’re stuck in here, starving. Does that sound fair?” Cletus asked. His eyes weren’t his anymore. They were milky white and bulging. You scooted your chair back in fear.

“No.” You said. You didn’t want to anger him so you agreed with him.

“No. It’s not. That’s why we’re breaking out of here. And when we do, there’s gonna be Carnage.” Cletus smirked, his eyes back to normal now. You trembled slightly.

Cletus Kasady had a symbiote of his own. One that was stronger and deadly than yours. At least Venom bonded to a reporter with morals. Carnage bonded with a serial killer. They made for a lethal combination and you knew you couldn’t stop the havoc that was coming.

“We want you to join us, Y/n.” Cleatus drawled. “You and Venom. Imagine the power we could have. The city would be ours. We could do whatever we want.”

You felt sweat running down the sides of your face as you carefully thought out what you said next.

“Thank you for the offer, but we have to decline. We’re not like you. We only kill very bad people. Cletus, you killed 17 women just because they resembled the girl who broke your heart in high school. We don’t see things the same way.” You told him slowly. Cletus’s face fell.

“I thought you were my friend. I don’t have any friends in here. Nobody wants to be friends with a serial killer. The only person who was ever nice to me was you.” Cletus said sadly. You let out a shaky breath. You felt a little sorry for him, despite his lethal intentions.

“I know and I’m sorry. But Venom and I aren’t killers.” You said in your calmest tone.

“Yes, you are. Whether you like it or not, you will always have to kill to feed. You’ve been a good person your whole life, Y/n. What has it gotten you? You told me about your parents. Did being a good person keep them alive? And what about Andy? You exposed Carlton Drake because you’re a good person, and Andy still broke up with you. Why not throw your morals away and just be the monster you were meant to be?” Cletus persuaded. Your fear turned to sadness quickly and hot tears spilled down your cheeks.

“I am not a monster.” You said angrily. “We are not a monster.”

“But you are. The sooner you realize it, the freer you’ll be. It’s your choice.” Cletus shrugged.

“We choose to be good.” You said firmly. Cletus gave you a disappointed nod.

“Carnage told me you’d say that. I told him you were different. I guess I was wrong. I’m going to be sorry to see you go.” Cletus said sadly.

“See me go?” You asked.

“Carnage said anyone who stands in the way must die. That means you, Venom, Spider-Man, and anyone else who tries to stop us from taking over New York.”

You felt sick to your stomach. Killing you was one thing, but Spider-Man? Peter hadn’t done anything to Carnage. Why was Peter a Target?

“Please don’t hurt Spider-Man. You can kill me but please, don’t touch him.” You begged. Cletus smirked.

“Looks like Carnage was right about that too.” Cletus chuckled.

“Right about what?” You asked. Cletus seemed to be conversing with Carnage in his head.

“Right about there being something going on between you and Spider-Man. I’ll do my best to keep Carnage away from him, but I don’t have much control. So no promises. Even though you let me down, I have a liking for you Y/n. You knew what I did to those women and you still agreed to write an article on me and hear my side of the story. Most people wanted to lock me up and throw away the key. Not you. You listened. We won’t hurt him. But we want a deal.” Cletus stated.

“What deal?” You asked bitterly.

“We want a battle. A fair one. Venom vs. Carnage. If you win, we’ll go back to Klyntar. But if we win, you become apart of our team and we destroy New York together, starting with everyone who got me thrown in this hell hole. Do we have a deal?” Cletus asked. You didn’t want to agree to it but you knew you had no other choice. Carnage was strong but he lacked the impeccable bond you had with Venom. You were confident in Venoms abilities in a fight. Your solemnly nodded your head.

“It’s a deal. When?”

“Tonight at midnight on top of the Oscorp building. Don’t be late.” Cletus said. Before you could answer, the security guard came in.

“The hour is up, Miss L/n. It’s time for Cletus’s meal.” The guard said. Your checked your watch. It was in fact 7 o’clock. The hour had gone the fastest it ever had. You shot Cletus one last look before you thanked the security guard and left. You could feel his smirk watching you as you went.

~

“Peter? Y/n’s at the front door.” May called from the kitchen. Peter perked up at the slightest mention of your name.

Peter went to his front door and saw you were still dressed in nice clothes for your interview. Peter loved your usual laid back style but he also loved seeing you dressed up. It reminded him of how bad ass you were.

“Hi.” You said shyly, noticing him staring.

“Hey.” He said back. “What’s up?”

“Can we talk in the hall?” You asked. Peter nodded gravely and followed you out into the hall. He shut the door behind him and turned to face you.

“Y/n-“ he began.

“I came here to break up with you.” You interrupted. Peter eyes snapped from the floor to your face. You didn’t seem upset. You seemed almost excited. Peter felt the opposite.

“Wh-“ Peter began but you cut him off again.

“Let me finish. I came here to break up with you. But I’m not going to do that anymore.” You clarified. “Peter, there’s a very bad man after me. I just found out that Carnage bonded with Cletus Kasady. He’s stronger than me, faster than me, and more deadly than me. He’s asked me to join his side and I said no. Now, he’s going to kill me. And he said he’s going to kill you too. I have until midnight until the fight.”

“Okay.” Peter followed along. “So what about the breakup?”

“I figured I’d come here and break up with you, and not just break up but really break your heart. I was gonna tell you I cheated on you and if that didn’t work I was gonna say I was using you to get over Andy and that I still loved him. All lies, by the way. My heart beats for only you. But I thought that if I made you hate me, Carnage would have no reason to go after you and he’d leave you alone. So that was my plan when I left the prison. But as I drove here, I remembered I wasn’t just dating some guy. I remembered was dating Spider-Man.” You said proudly, and Peter grinned.

“What I’m trying to say is, I believe in you. I know you’re strong and capable of anything you put your mind to. You’re extraordinary, Peter. And I don’t have to protect you, as much as I might want to. So, I did come here to break up with you. But now that I’m here, I’m asking you to fight Carnage with me. I want you by my side when I fight the biggest battle of my life. What do you say? Will you help me, Spider-Man?”

“I will.” He said confidently. “Thank you for believing in me.”

“Thanks for giving me something to believe in.” You shrugged.

You spent the remaining hours before midnight coming up with a strategy with Peter. Soon enough, it was time to meet Cleatus on the roof. You and Peter swung there, shaking with anticipation as Cleatus arrived. You held Peter’s hand through this suit, still not in your Venom form. Cleatus looked between the two of you, and then at your intertwined hands. 
“Remember when you said I could kill you if I left Spiderman alone?” Cleatus asked through a wicked smile. Peter looked at you, confused as to why you would say that as you nodded.

“Well, I’d like to take you up on that.” Cleatus said as he morphed into Carnage. He grabbed Peter in a quick movement and threw him off the roof, leaving you alone with him. You ran in the director that Peter was thrown but Carnage caught you and dragged you to him, stepping on your neck to keep you down.

“Told you.” He snarled in your ear. “There’s gonna be carnage.”