#sixteen hundred men

[youhavereachedtheendofpie]

casually going insane over film music on this monday afternoon how about y'all

[brucequeensteen]

the 1917 soundtrack is such a masterpiece everyone should get in on this

[jaythes1mp]

1224 words, 7239 characters, 54 sentences, 27 paragraphs, 4.9 pages. Tag list: @zero-s-tea @chemicalsandghosts @yandere-enthusiast @starsdotalk @small-mushroom-fae

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

You had always had a vague understanding that your biological father was well-off, as he would consistently transfer a substantial amount of cash to that woman each month. However, while you were fortunate enough to not have grown up in the most deprived area of Gotham, it didn't necessarily mean that you had lived in the lap of luxury either.

Despite the knowledge that your father was wealthy, you had still scraped by in a small, cramped apartment, constantly relying on his financial support and night jobs to survive. You supposed that your situation could have been worse, but it didn't make the reality any more bearable. You often wondered what it would be like to live in a well-appointed home and never worry about money, but those thoughts were quickly thrusted aside and squashed down by the woman’s polished heel. Every time, the woman’s sharp words brought you back to reality.

You hadn’t deserved that life. She would remind you time and time again.

You grimace, the thought of your mother, or rather, that woman, entering your consciousness disgusting you. You weren't sure if she'd ever truly earn the title of 'mother.'

It wasn't until you reached the age of eleven that you become painfully aware that not every child had to desperately plead with their mother for food, and that it wasn't normal for parents to hold their kids needs over their own heads.

It had become abundantly clear to you from a young age that the woman was never truly interested in motherhood and had only kept you out of a slim chance that one of the men she had whored herself out to would be wealthy. She targeted men at lavish galas, her sole purpose for going being to hook up with them in exchange for large amounts of money. They usually sent nondisclosure agreements along with the cash, ensuring her continued wealth. However, your existence disrupted her carefree lifestyle. ‘It was perfect, until you came along.’ She’d say.

She had exploited Bruce Wayne for money. Getting him drunk with enough press around to stress about his ‘playboy image’ to bed her. Afterwards, she demanded a large sum of money, and he gave it to her without a second thought. He hadn’t even fully read over the details. Just signing up for a wire transfer to her account every month for the next few years. He hadn’t even been aware of you.

Too preoccupied with training the young Robin to even be aware of your birth.

Throughout your life, the woman had consistently manipulated the truth, spinning a tale in which it was your fault that your father had ‘left.’ And, despite your reservations, a small part of you still believed her words.

She had carefully cultivated your sense of guilt, instilling the belief that your very existence had driven your father away. Her venomous words and manipulative behavior had left deep emotional scars, convincing you that you were unworthy of a loving father's affection. Or rather, anyone’s affection.

That day, when you turned sixteen, was the day that woman unceremoniously ushered you out of her home. Clothes and any belongings that she didn't deem worthy enough to sell for a few hundred dollars were carelessly thrown out into the hallway. By the time you made it back from work, most of your belongings had already been looted by the other tenants and homeless kids who roamed the building.

With a mixture of desperation and hope, you had gathered the few remaining possessions that you could salvage, cramming them into your work bag. Your fingers had trembled slightly as you dug out your old, cracked phone. Desperation clawed at your chest as you dialed her number and slammed your fist against the door.

You hadn’t been surprised when your repeated calls went unanswered. Frustration and anger boiled within you, mingled with a pang of hurt and despair. Deep down, you knew it was futile to even attempt to break down the door, as that would only result in consequences that you were unwilling to face.

With a steely determination, you forced back the tears that threatened to overwhelm you, walking to the nearest bank with a firm resolve. You withdrew every penny you had painstakingly saved over the past two years and closed the account, ensuring she could no longer access any of your hard-earned money.

Armed with the few thousand dollars you had managed to retrieve, you began a desperate search for someone, anyone, who would be willing to offer you a roof over your head. Despair gripped your heart as you realized how limited your options truly were.

At that point, the members of the Batfamily had been cognisant of your existence for about a year. Bruce having taken a DNA test for Alfred’s medical examination. Yet, despite their general awareness of your presence, it seemed they had made no direct attempt to reach out or provide assistance. On the surface, your life appeared stable. You resided with a supportive parent, attended school, and held down a job. From all outward appearances, there didn't seem to be anything particularly noteworthy or concerning about your circumstances.

But they were detectives. One would expect them to possess keen eyes for details, especially when it came to the nuances and subtle signs that might indicate something amiss. Yet, they had missed the marks, failing to acknowledge the more subtle indications of your turmoil.

Jason discovered you the morning after you had been cruelly cast out from your home. You were found sleeping outside, your weary head nestled against your overstuffed work bag. Wearing an old, frayed sweater for a makeshift blanket.

Typically, he wouldn't have paused to take note of a sight akin to this. He was all too gruesomely acquainted with the sight of homeless, neglected children on the streets. But as his gaze fell upon you, there was an unsettling sense of familiarity that snagged his attention.

The question nagged him persistently, scratching at his consciousness like an untamed itch. Where had he come across you before?

Then, suddenly, recognition flashed across his mind. You were the same child Damian had fixated upon just over a year ago. The demon spawns little obsession.

He let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Why on earth were you on the streets? It was blatantly obvious that it wasn’t a safe environment for anyone, let alone you. The mere notion of the young Wayne finding out that his blood kin was unhoused would undoubtedly send the typically stoic demon into a frenzy.

He let out a resigned sigh, leaning down to gently nudge your huddled form. His sharp, calculating grey eyes roved over your slumbering figure, taking in every minute detail with a sense of keen observation.

You stirred at the touch, groggily lifting your head from your overstuffed bag. Your bleary eyes slowly peeled open, blinking owlishly in the early morning light. Confusion and exhaustion mingled in your expression as you caught sight of Jason crouched down in front of you.

That was the day your life began to intertwine with the tightly woven web of the Wayne family. From that very moment, you became ensnared within the complex and sometimes suffocating grip of the Wayne's protective and possessive nature.

No use of y/n, no use of any descriptive features for the reader, no gender mentioned.

Shorter than usual, but more of a dive into the reader’s backstory.

Comments, asks, and reblogs are very appreciated! Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

[csnk]

When I was sixteen, I won a great victory. I felt in that moment I would live to be a hundred. Now I know I shall not see thirty. None of us know our end, really, or what hand will guide us there. A king may move a man, a father may claim a son, but that man can also move himself, and only then does that man truly begin his own game. Remember that howsoever you are played or by whom, your soul is in your keeping alone, even though those who presume to play you be kings or men of power. When you stand before God, you cannot say, "But I was told by others to do thus," or that virtue was not convenient at the time. This will not suffice. Remember that.

EDWARD NORTON as KING BALDWIN IV in Kingdom of Heaven (2005) dir. Ridley Scott

[balladofthe101st]

Buck Compton came back to see the Company to let us know that he was alright. He became a prosecutor in Los Angeles. He convicted Sirhan Sirhan in the murder of Robert Kennedy, and was later appointed to the California Court of Appeals. 

David Webster became a writer for the Saturday Evening Post and Wall Street Journal, and later wrote and book about sharks. In 1961, he went out on the ocean alone, and was never seen again.

Johnny Martin would return to his job at the railroad and then start his own construction company. He splits his time between Arizona and a place in Montana.

George Luz became a handyman in Providence, Rhode Island. As a testament to his character, sixteen hundred people attended his funeral in 1998.

Doc Roe died in Louisiana in 1998. He’d been a construction contractor.

Frank Perconte returned to Chicago and worked a postal route as a mailman.

Joe Liebgott returned to San Francisco and drove his cab.

Bull Randleman was one of the best soldiers I ever had. He went into the earth moving business in Arkansas. He’s still there.

Alton More returned to Wyoming with a unique souvenir: Hitler’s personal photo albums. He was killed in a car accident in 1958.

Floyd Talbert we all lost touch with in civilian life, until he showed up at a reunion just before his death in 1981.

Carwood Lipton became a glass making executive in charge of factories all over the world. He has a nice life in North Carolina.

Harry Welsh – he married Kitty Grogan. Became an administrator for the Wilkes Barre, Pennsylvania school system.

Ronald Speirs stayed in the Army, served in Korea. In 1958, returned to Germany as Governor of Spandau Prison. He retired a Lieutenant Colonel.

Lewis Nixon had some tough times after the war. He was divorced a couple of times. Then in 1956, he married a woman named Grace and everything came together for him. He spent the rest of his life with her, travelling the world. My friend Lew died in 1995.

I took up his job offer and was a personnel manager at the Nixon Nitration Works, until I was called back into service in 1950 to train officers and rangers. I chose not to go to Korea. I’d had enough of war. I stayed around Hershey, Pennsylvania, finally finding a little farm. A little peaceful corner of the world, where I still live today. And there is not a day that goes by that I do not think of the men I served with who never got to enjoy the world without war.

[odinsblog]

“They call us murderers, but we did not murder over two hundred fifty unarmed Black men, women, and children, or wound thousands of others in the riots they provoked during the sixties. The rulers of this country have always considered their property more important than our lives. They call us murderers, but we were not responsible for the twenty-eight brother inmates and nine hostages murdered at attica.

They call us murderers, but we did not murder and wound over thirty unarmed Black students at Jackson State—or Southern State, either.

They call us murderers, but we did not murder Martin Luther King, Jr., Emmett Till, Medgar Evers, Malcolm X, George Jackson, Nat Turner, James Chaney, and countless others. We did not murder, by shooting in the back, sixteen-year-old Rita Lloyd, eleven-year-old Rickie Bodden, or ten-year-old Clifford Glover. They call us murderers, but we do not control or enforce a system of racism and oppression that systematically murders Black and Third World people.

Although Black people supposedly comprise about fifteen percent of the total amerikkkan population, at least sixty percent of murder victims are Black. For every pig that is killed in the so-called line of duty, there are at least fifty Black people murdered by the police.

Black life expectancy is much lower than white and they do their best to kill us before we are even born. We are burned alive in fire-trap tenements. Our brothers and sisters OD daily from heroin and methadone. Our babies die from lead poisoning. Millions of Black people have died as a result of indecent medical care. This is murder. But they have got the gall to call us murderers.”

—Assata Shakur, “To My People” July 4th, 1973

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

Prince Rhaegar as a character often gets some deserved criticism - and a lot of underserved hate. And one of the things that I think he unfairly gets blamed for is Elia Martell's tragedy. Elia's death is one of the primary objections people have towards Rhaegar and Lyanna being depicted as a romance, with readers believing that if they were just tragic lovers, then that diminishes Elia's own tragedy.

I...disagree. It is understandable (and honestly right) that readers would rally behind Elia. Not only was she horribly brutalized and murdered, but her children suffered absolutely terrible fates as well.

However, in trying to center Rhaegar and Lyanna's doomed dalliance in this, a lot of readers are missing the answer that has been already provided to us within the narrative. Not only that, but this line of thinking also ignores the key context in which Elia's senseless murder is portrayed.

As far as the text goes, Elia’s death is laid squarely at the feet of Tywin Lannister and his men, Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch. It's House Lannister's burden to bear.

Doran for one, Elia's brother, directly blames Tywin Lannister:

“You mistake patience for forbearance. I have worked at the downfall of Tywin Lannister since the day they told me of Elia and her children.”

The Princess in the Tower, AFFC

Even Oberyn agrees:

“Dwarf,” said the Red Viper, in a tone grown markedly less cordial, “spare me your Lannister lies. Is it sheep you take us for, or fools? My brother is not a bloodthirsty man, but neither has he been asleep for sixteen years. Jon Arryn came to Sunspear the year after Robert took the throne, and you can be sure that he was questioned closely. Him, and a hundred more. I did not come for some mummer’s show of an inquiry. I came for justice for Elia and her children, and I will have it. Starting with this lummox Gregor Clegane … but not, I think, ending there. Before he dies, the Enormity That Rides will tell me whence came his orders, please assure your lord father of that.” He smiled. “An old septon once claimed I was living proof of the goodness of the gods. Do you know why that is, Imp?”

Tyrion IV, ASOS

“Is that the game we are playing?” Tyrion rubbed at his scarred nose. He had nothing to lose by telling Oberyn the truth. “There was a bear at Harrenhal, and it did kill Ser Amory Lorch.” “How sad for him,” said the Red Viper. “And for you. Do all noseless men lie so badly, I wonder?” “I am not lying. Ser Amory dragged Princess Rhaenys out from under her father’s bed and stabbed her to death. He had some men-at-arms with him, but I do not know their names.” He leaned forward. “It was Ser Gregor Clegane who smashed Prince Aegon’s head against a wall and raped your sister Elia with his blood and brains still on his hands.” “What is this, now? Truth, from a Lannister?” Oberyn smiled coldly. “Your father gave the commands, yes?” “No.” He spoke the lie without hesitation, and never stopped to ask himself why he should. The Dornishman raised one thin black eyebrow. “Such a dutiful son. And such a very feeble lie. It was Lord Tywin who presented my sister’s children to King Robert all wrapped up in crimson Lannister cloaks.”

Tyrion IX, ASOS

“Elia Martell, Princess of Dorne,” the Red Viper hissed. “You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children…“I came to hear you confess.”

Tyrion X, ASOS

Varys and Tyrion both understand that House Martell (but more specifically Doran) hates the Lannisters.

“The Dornishmen thus far have held aloof from these wars. Doran Martell has called his banners, but no more. His hatred for House Lannister is well known, and it is commonly thought he will join Lord Renly. You wish to dissuade him.” “All this is obvious,” said Tyrion. “The only puzzle is what you might have offered for his allegiance. The prince is a sentimental man, and he still mourns his sister Elia and her sweet babe.” “My father once told me that a lord never lets sentiment get in the way of ambition … and it happens we have an empty seat on the small council, now that Lord Janos has taken the black.” “A council seat is not to be despised,” Varys admitted, “yet will it be enough to make a proud man forget his sister’s murder?” “Why forget?” Tyrion smiled. “I’ve promised to deliver his sister’s killers, alive or dead, as he prefers. After the war is done, to be sure.” Varys gave him a shrewd look. “My little birds tell me that Princess Elia cried a … certain name … when they came for her.” “Is a secret still a secret if everyone knows it?” In Casterly Rock, it was common knowledge that Gregor Clegane had killed Elia and her babe. They said he had raped the princess with her son’s blood and brains still on his hands. “This secret is your lord father’s sworn man.” “My father would be the first to tell you that fifty thousand Dornishmen are worth one rabid dog.” Varys stroked a powdered cheek. “And if Prince Doran demands the blood of the lord who gave the command as well as the knight who did the deed …” “Robert Baratheon led the rebellion. All commands came from him, in the end.” “Robert was not at King’s Landing.” “Neither was Doran Martell.”

Tyrion IV, ACOK

Really, all the nobles know where to look at when assigning blame for Elia's murder. Tywin.

“Prince Doran comes at my son’s invitation,” Lord Tywin said calmly, “not only to join in our celebration, but to claim his seat on this council, and the justice Robert denied him for the murder of his sister Elia and her children.” Tyrion watched the faces of the Lords Tyrell, Redwyne, and Rowan, wondering if any of the three would be bold enough to say, “But Lord Tywin, wasn’t it you who presented the bodies to Robert, all wrapped up in Lannister cloaks?” None of them did, but it was there on their faces all the same. Redwyne does not give a fig, he thought, but Rowan looks fit to gag.

Tywin, for the most part, quite shamelessly tries to disassociate himself from his own moral failings; this is nothing new, because he follows this same MO with squarely blaming the Freys for the Red Wedding even though he played an integral part in planning for it.

“Then why did the Mountain kill her?” “Because I did not tell him to spare her. I doubt I mentioned her at all. I had more pressing concerns. Ned Stark’s van was rushing south from the Trident, and I feared it might come to swords between us. And it was in Aerys to murder Jaime, with no more cause than spite. That was the thing I feared most. That, and what Jaime himself might do.” He closed a fist. “Nor did I yet grasp what I had in Gregor Clegane, only that he was huge and terrible in battle. The rape … even you will not accuse me of giving that command, I would hope. Ser Amory was almost as bestial with Rhaenys. I asked him afterward why it had required half a hundred thrusts to kill a girl of … two? Three? He said she’d kicked him and would not stop screaming. If Lorch had half the wits the gods gave a turnip, he would have calmed her with a few sweet words and used a soft silk pillow.” His mouth twisted in distaste. “The blood was in him.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

“And when Oberyn demands the justice he’s come for?” “I will tell him that Ser Amory Lorch killed Elia and her children,” Lord Tywin said calmly. “So will you, if he asks.” “Ser Amory Lorch is dead,” Tyrion said flatly. “Precisely. Vargo Hoat had Ser Amory torn apart by a bear after the fall of Harrenhal. That ought to be sufficiently grisly to appease even Oberyn Martell.” “You may call that justice …” “It is justice. It was Ser Amory who brought me the girl’s body, if you must know. He found her hiding under her father’s bed, as if she believed Rhaegar could still protect her. Princess Elia and the babe were in the nursery a floor below.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

Tywin tries to alleviate himself of any responsibility by blaming his men, but the narrative actively calls bullshit on this (through Tywin's own son no less).

So the narrative shows through multiple POVs that Elia's murder is contextualized exclusively as a failing on Tywin Lannister and his men; not only was it a moral failing, but Tyrion also questions if it was politically necessary in the first place. It's also important to note that ASOS is when we really dive into the matter of Elia and her children (mostly through Oberyn), but we also have to remember that this is the same book as the Red Wedding. The Red Wedding, another one of Tywin's senseless massacres that he tries to postulate as politically necessary.

So, we have agreed that the blame and context for Elia's (and her children's) murder is presented through the lens of Tywin as an immoral politician who often makes politically unnecessary moves. But then we ask ourselves, can the responsibility of this tragedy be extended? Well, yes it can. And it has been in the text.

Ser Barristan extends this tragedy beyond Tywin and his men

...to King Robert.

“Prince Rhaegar had two children,” Ser Barristan told him. “Rhaenys was a little girl, Aegon a babe in arms. When Tywin Lannister took King’s Landing, his men killed both of them. He served the bloody bodies up in crimson cloaks, a gift for the new king.” And what did Robert say when he saw them? Did he smile? Barristan Selmy had been badly wounded on the Trident, so he had been spared the sight of Lord Tywin’s gift, but oft he wondered. If I had seen him smile over the red ruins of Rhaegar’s children, no army on this earth could have stopped me from killing him. “I will not suffer the murder of children. Accept that, or I’ll have no part of this.”

The Kingbreaker, ADWD

Ned Stark does as well.

Ned did not feign surprise; Robert’s hatred of the Targaryens was a madness in him. He remembered the angry words they had exchanged when Tywin Lannister had presented Robert with the corpses of Rhaegar’s wife and children as a token of fealty. Ned had named that murder; Robert called it war. When he had protested that the young prince and princess were no more than babes, his new-made king had replied, “I see no babes. Only dragonspawn.” Not even Jon Arryn had been able to calm that storm. Eddard Stark had ridden out that very day in a cold rage, to fight the last battles of the war alone in the south. It had taken another death to reconcile them; Lyanna’s death, and the grief they had shared over her passing.

Eddard II, AGOT

And so does Tywin, who uses Robert's tacit approval as justification for this senseless act.

Lord Tywin stared at him as if he had lost his wits. “You deserve that motley, then. We had come late to Robert’s cause. It was necessary to demonstrate our loyalty. When I laid those bodies before the throne, no man could doubt that we had forsaken House Targaryen forever. And Robert’s relief was palpable. As stupid as he was, even he knew that Rhaegar’s children had to die if his throne was ever to be secure. Yet he saw himself as a hero, and heroes do not kill children.” His father shrugged. “I grant you, it was done too brutally. Elia need not have been harmed at all, that was sheer folly. By herself she was nothing.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

So if we can't extend the blame to Rhaegar, because the narrative doesn't do so either, what can we hold him responsible for? Let's take a step back and look at Rhaegar's culpability in this whole thing.

Was Rhaegar (and Lyanna) responsible for starting the war that would eventually lead to Elia's murder?

No. GRRM doesn't think so. The war actually started when King Aerys murdered the Lord of Winterfell and his heir, a bunch of other northern nobles, and then called for the heads of Robert Baratheon (Lord of Storm's End) and Ned Stark (the new Lord of Winterfell). Aerys broke the feudal contract, and so Jon Arryn declared war.

I don't think I would have stayed loyal to the Mad King. Do I think they were justified? Yes, and no. [...] There was no doubt that the Mad King was mad. He was paranoid and he was abusing his power. And Westeros has no Magna Carta or anything like that. There was no way to handle this within the rule of law. But was what they do justified? Especially when you consider that it was triggered by a personal grievance. The execution of Ned's father and brother was really a thing that radicalized Ned and put him in opposition to it. Robert was just rolling for a fight and didn't like the fact that he'd lost his girlfriend. So you know, the personal informs the political.

source

Rhaegar and Lyanna's disappearance was merely the spark - it led to a misunderstanding that caused Brandon Stark to ride to Kingslanding. What really caused the war was Aerys' Targaryens subsequent actions as the king. So if we want to blame someone for causing the chain of events that led to Elia's death as well as her children's, the author himself says to blame Aerys; even though I don't think this is right either because we once again stray from the necessary (and sole) context of Elia's murder - Tywin's bloody hands.

Fine. Rhaegar was not responsible for the war. But surely he is responsible for leaving Elia in King's Landing, right in the clutches of Mad King Aerys. Well, this again, is not true. As far as Rhaegar knew, Elia was in Dragonstone with Aegon and Rhaenys where he left them.

As cold winds hammered the city, King Aerys II turned to his pyromancers, charging them to drive the winter off with their magics. Huge green fires burned along the walls of the Red Keep for a moon’s turn. Prince Rhaegar was not in the city to observe them, however. Nor could he be found in Dragonstone with Princess Elia and their young son, Aegon.

“The Year of the False Spring”, The World of Ice and Fire

At some point, Elia was called to King's Landing. And it was Aerys who kept her hostage there as insurance against possible Dornish betrayal (remember, he was paranoid).

Side Note: Aerys kept another important political hostage in King's Landing along with Elia - Jaime Lannister; this is to deter anyone from trying to blame Jaime for doing nothing. He was a teenager and a hostage himself!

“My Sworn Brothers were all away, you see, but Aerys liked to keep me close. I was my father’s son, so he did not trust me. He wanted me where Varys could watch me, day and night. So I heard it all.” He remembered how Rossart’s eyes would shine when he unrolled his maps to show where the substance must be placed. Garigus and Belis were the same. “Rhaegar met Robert on the Trident, and you know what happened there. When the word reached court, Aerys packed the queen off to Dragonstone with Prince Viserys. Princess Elia would have gone as well, but he forbade it. Somehow he had gotten it in his head that Prince Lewyn must have betrayed Rhaegar on the Trident, but he thought he could keep Dorne loyal so long as he kept Elia and Aegon by his side. The traitors want my city, I heard him tell Rossart, but I’ll give them naught but ashes. Let Robert be king over charred bones and cooked meat. The Targaryens never bury their dead, they burn them. Aerys meant to have the greatest funeral pyre of them all. Though if truth be told, I do not believe he truly expected to die. Like Aerion Brightfire before him, Aerys thought the fire would transform him … that he would rise again, reborn as a dragon, and turn all his enemies to ash.

Jaime V, ASOS

Ok, fine. So Rhaegar did not abandon her with Aerys then run off to Lyanna. But he should have done something when he came back, right? Why didn't he leave more Kings Guard with Elia and the children?

Well....this is a war. The knights of the KG are important assets on the battle field. Kings Landing, at the time, was not the most dangerous location. The KG were better off at the Trident, as a victory there would protect those who were left behind in KL.

And it's not that Rhaegar didn't do anything. Beyond going off to lead the battle himself, he tried to make moves that would help those who were back in KL (Elia and the children included).

He floated in heat, in memory. “After dancing griffins lost the Battle of the Bells, Aerys exiled him.” Why am I telling this absurd ugly child? “He had finally realized that Robert was no mere outlaw lord to be crushed at whim, but the greatest threat House Targaryen had faced since Daemon Blackfyre. The king reminded Lewyn Martell gracelessly that he held Elia and sent him to take command of the ten thousand Dornishmen coming up the kingsroad. Jon Darry and Barristan Selmy rode to Stoney Sept to rally what they could of griffins’ men, and Prince Rhaegar returned from the south and persuaded his father to swallow his pride and summon my father. But no raven returned from Casterly Rock, and that made the king even more afraid. He saw traitors everywhere, and Varys was always there to point out any he might have missed. So His Grace commanded his alchemists to place caches of wildfire all over King’s Landing. Beneath Baelor’s Sept and the hovels of Flea Bottom, under stables and storehouses, at all seven gates, even in the cellars of the Red Keep itself.

Jaime V ASOS

And Jaime's POV once again shows us that Rhaegar banked on victory at the Trident, and was fully expecting to come back to KL and amend the fraught political situation.

The day had been windy when he said farewell to Rhaegar, in the yard of the Red Keep. The prince had donned his night-black armor, with the three-headed dragon picked out in rubies on his breastplate. “Your Grace,” Jaime had pleaded, “let Darry stay to guard the king this once, or Ser Barristan. Their cloaks are as white as mine.” Prince Rhaegar shook his head. “My royal sire fears your father more than he does our cousin Robert. He wants you close, so Lord Tywin cannot harm him. I dare not take that crutch away from him at such an hour.” Jaime’s anger had risen up in his throat. “I am not a crutch. I am a knight of the Kingsguard.” “Then guard the king,” Ser Jon Darry snapped at him. “When you donned that cloak, you promised to obey.” Rhaegar had put his hand on Jaime’s shoulder. “When this battle’s done I mean to call a council. Changes will be made. I meant to do it long ago, but … well, it does no good to speak of roads not taken. We shall talk when I return.”

Jaime I, AFFC

So Rhaegar wasn't leaving with no care about what happened back in King's Landing. We don't know what he wanted to do with Aerys, Elia, Lyanna, and the aftermath of the war because he died at the Trident. But we do know that he, at the very least, was planning to do something.

So we can't blame Rhaegar (and Lyanna) for starting the war and we can't blame him either for abandoning Elia in King's Landing with no care about what happens next. So, again, what can we blame him for?

“It's not entirely correct that the Martells stayed out of the war. Rhaegar had Dornish troops with him on the Trident, under the command of Prince Lewyn of the Kingsguard. However, the Dornishmen did not support him as strongly as they might have, in part because of anger at his treatment of Elia, in part because of Prince Doran's innate caution.”

SSM, 09/11/1999

GRRM states that Dorne was angry about Rhaegar's treatment of Elia. What is this treatment, though?

Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty’s laurel in Lyanna’s lap.

Eddard XV, AGOT

Specifically, Rhaegar riding past Elia to crown Lyanna the Queen of Love and Beauty. Yes, that is a humiliation. And it's undeniable that no one was happy.

The crowning of the Stark girl, who was by all reports a wild and boyish young thing with none of the Princess Elia’s delicate beauty, could only have been meant to win the allegiance of Winterfell to Prince Rhaegar’s cause…Yet if this were true, why did Lady Lyanna’s brothers seem so distraught at the honor the prince had bestowed upon her? Brandon Stark, the heir to Winterfell, had to be restrained from confronting Rhaegar at what he took as a slight upon his sister’s honor…Eddard Stark, Brandon’s younger brother and a close friend to Lord Robert, was calmer but no more pleased.

“The Year of the False Spring”, The World of Ice and Fire

But, humiliating Elia is not the same thing as being responsible for her death. The narrative never equates these two things in any way. Elia's death is about Tywin's immoral and blood thirsty political actions. It's about Dorne's desire for justice (or is it vengeance?) which they know they will not get from the Lannister regime. House Lannister's downfall in King's Landing will be brought about by Prince Aegon's rise - Aegon who is proclaiming to be the long lost son of Prince Rhaegar, and who is being supported by House Martell as of now.

We can criticize Rhaegar for some things, but Elia's death is surely not one of them.

[tansyuduri]

Art by @gyrhs for chapter one of We Are Bruised But Whole Together

The king carefully moved around a tree. He grabbed a fallen branch in case he needed to defend himself. Then he listened to the slow approaching footsteps. Not yet… Not yet…  He waited for the right moment. Almost… There . 

Arthur jumped out from behind his tree and lifted the branch as one would lift a sword. 

The king found himself face to face with Merlin. His friend was in his Dragoon form, but dressed in the same strange clothing of the others. Their eyes met and unspeakable relief filled Arthur at the sight of the other man. His heart pounded in his chest. 

Part of him remembered what he had mouthed just before thanking him that last time. But that was confusing. He needed to push it aside until he could figure out what he’d meant. 

He didn’t realize Merlin was falling until it was too late.

Dragoon, no Merlin, yelled and flailed his arms frantically before he fell backward. As he thumped onto his rear on the path, a basket of herbs went flying. Merlin looked up at Arthur, breathing fast, and stared. “Arthur!? What… you…” 

Arthur dropped the branch and knelt in front of his friend. “Merlin!” He smiled.

Tears filled the other man’s eyes and he closed the distance between them, crawling forward with surprising agility for such an old man.

Then Merlin started yelling.   

“YOU CLOTPOLE! I WENT THROUGH AIR RAIDS IN A SHELTER! I WAS HERE WHEN THE NORSEMEN CAME!” He grabbed the very confused Arthur by the shoulders and shook him lightly. “THEY TRIED TO BURN ME AS A WITCH SIX TIMES IN THE1600s! ARTHUR! SIX TIMES! WHILE YOU WERE HAVING YOUR BEAUTY SLEEP!” 

Tears streamed from his sorcerer's eyes as he yelled. Arthur watched in utter confusion. Sixteen-hundreds? Air raids, Norse men? What? Arthur was starting to have a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. But he refused to let his mind put together what the number sixteen-hundred might mean. 

Tears continued to trail down Merlin's face as Arthur looked at him wide eyed. 

“You’re back… You’re finally back,” Merlin sobbed, dropping his hands from Arthur’s shoulders and digging them into the dirt below as if trying to convince himself the world was still real around him.

Finally? Arthur’s mind caught on the word. Merlin had said finally. The feeling in Arthur’s stomach worsened. 

Merlin met his eyes. “Can I hug you?” 

Read it Here

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

ii. do you really wanna know where i was april 29th?

— the one where you and him end up in the same room at the same time.

warnings: kind reminder that the pictures are just used for entertainment and don’t describe what the main character is supposed to look like also, there are some f1 inaccuracies but this is fiction so please ignore them thank you❤️ 2k words.

masterlist ✢ next

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softyn it’s so good to see you having fun!!

myaid4nfeels so you’re already on the hunt huh

poppyseeds mother!! suddenly I love fast cars vroom vroom

greenleafss @/priscibby you were right she def has another man

frenziekenzie okay cool but I need you to talk about Aidan I’m a child of divorce.

Baku, Azerbaijan, April 29th.

HERE, here is where you end up when you let your agent say yes to every commercial offer you get no matter how random it is. And one day late, to top things off. Many people are angry at you, and you’re getting an earful as soon as the cameras shut down, but for now all you can do is laugh at terrible jokes, like the lady that you are, pretend to sip the frankly horrendous energy drink your manager keeps handing you, and appear very sorry about your previous absence.

You’re not even supposed to be here, you had no idea signing the stupid contract with Red Elix forced you to come to every sponsor event that they had. Having become the most recent sponsor for Ferrari’s F1 team, the men in charge couldn’t wait to show you off, their most important ambassador. Or their shiniest toy, it's all semantics.

"Come on, the shootout is about to start!" the old man whose name you have already forgotten holds your hand, leading you away from the refreshments table where you're looking something drinkable, preferably with alcohol, although it wouldn't help your jetlag.

You spent the eighteen hours of your flight on a F1 binge, because you weren't about to make a fool of yourself by showing up to a Grand Prix having zero idea of whatever was going on other than the cars going really, really fast. Some things are still mildly confusing, like the point distribution and why on Earth there is a sprint race and then a 'real' race the next day. But you're proud of your ability to retain information, you're an actress after all, there are a hundred scripts loaded into your brain.

"We root for the red cars, sweetheart," the man is still holding your hand and it's starting to feel gross, it's papery and sweaty at the same time. It's like he's talking to a child, ennunciating slowly and clearly, and then pointing at the screen where they take turns to focus on drivers sixteen and fifty-five.

Unsurprisingly, you'd figured as much, you're in the Ferrari Suite, everything is fucking red. A wave of annoyance runs through you, but you're used to men being patronizing, so you just smile and take the chance to slip your hand out of his grip, covering your face coyly. "I'll keep an eye on them!"

He turns around after laughing at your 'cuteness' or stupidity, really. Men love laughing at women, especially those whom they deem to be dumb.

"Could you please, please, get me some water? Not Elix, not anything else, water." you whisper to your manager just as he's made himself comfortable to watch the Sprint Shootout. He sends a resented look your way but still gets up from his chair to get you a closed bottle of water. Walter is being forced to be here as much as you are, at least he doesn’t have a contract that keeps him tied to Elix for every race.

The man from before is talking to you again and you try your best not to shut down and tune him out. He's explaining the rules of the Shootout but you couldn't care less about anything that leaves his mouth, also the cars are already coming out of their respective garage and there's so much noise it doesn't even matter how much he adjusts the volume of his voice.

Charles and Carlos, you have learned their names after an hour of having their enlarged picture stare at you from the main wall of the Suite. Charles ended up in first place and he's starting P1 later and tomorrow. Nice. Carlos is struggling a little, apparently, but seeing how fast these silly cars go and how tight the curves are, you can't blame him.

As soon as the Shootout is over, there is chaos again. You are dragged here, there and back, forced to smile for pictures with strangers who have the audacity to squeeze your waist and whisper in your ear, well, that's definitely worse than having to drink the Red Elix.

There is another rush as both drivers come back for a debrief and to get some rest before the Sprint, they're a blur surrounded by people in red uniforms blabbering instructions, and the shouts of 'good job!' and 'i love you!' that have followed them from the paddock.

"Mr. Schafer…” a boney boy with glasses leans down to talk to the guy that has branded you as his for the evening.

Schafer gives him a dirty look, annoyed by the interruption of his incredibly boring story about how he is a self-made multimillionaire. "What?" he barks.

"They- they said not now," the boy whispers shyly, no, not shyly, scared. "They said the drivers need to focus, but maybe later after the Sprint..."

A can of Elix flies in the air and you look in poorly disguised repugnance at the way it puddles close to your Air Force sneakers. The boy has taken a step back, now visibly shaking and your disgust is redirected to the man that just yelled at him and is throwing a temper tantrum.

"Not right now?!" he continues, face turning purple. "What if I had said 'not right now' when they asked me to give them MY money, huh?!"

"T-they said—"

"I don't care what they said! It's your job to get the pictures of them with the Elix! You're useless!"

Other people are staring at you, including most of the Ferrari Hospitality Team, and it makes you feel embarassed that they have most likely pegged you as similar to Schafer from how inseparable you are.

"Why don't we calm down a bit?" you soothe, forcing yourself to run your hand down his arm and back up. "You know how these pilots are, divas at best."

You don't know either of the guys who have disappeared inside the Suite, and by the looks the Hospitality Team gives you once again, you're certain you are completely mistaken. But you don't care, because the media boy is giving you a grateful look, and although he's still visibly fuming, the money guy has stopped yelling.

"You're right sweetheart," Schafer says patting your hand and taking it back to his arm. "Later, then." he warns the media boy, who takes that as his sign to run away.

────────────

Ferrari is full of hope and celebrations when the Sprint ends, you're once again paraded around but at least it's way more fun this time. You get to be near the podium and witness first-hand whatever rituals they play out. The fun is short-lived though, when you are warned by your manager that Mr. Schafer wants to take you out to dinner tonight, you don't have or want to know more, you know what he wants to achieve.

You walk back to the Suite with your manager, trying your best to avoid Mr. Schafer, who is frantically looking for you. He's missing his arm-candy badly.

Your jetlag has worsened, and you have a terrible headache, plus however much Elix you've drank despite taking the smallest sips possible, is making you nauseous.

You need five minutes to yourself. It's all you ask for. You haven't even been able to get a break in the fucking bathroom. Your manager is constantly yelling, already getting his own frustration out on you for whatever shit the Elix team gave him after you missed the first day of the Grand Prix.

In the midst of the chaos, you slip away. Eager to find a place to breathe and enjoy your own company. Or dissociate, again, semantics.

You find yourself in front of two doors with the numbers sixteen and fifty-five identifying whom they each belong to. They are empty, and you know it because both drivers are still in their debriefing/celebration/whatever else they could be doing that once again, won't allow them to pose for the Elix post-race photos.

You are at a crossroads, you are well aware this are private rooms for a reason, but you also know there isn't anywhere more deserted than these rooms.

Sixteen or fifty-five? Who is least likely to freak out if by any miscalculation on your part they found you here? Well, one of them ended the day on a happier note than the other, so...

You open the door marked with the number sixteen and sigh in relief. Five minutes and that's it. Then you can go back and play dumb to Schafer and beg for you manager to finally take you to the hotel.

There is a miscalculation on your part, and five minutes later, just as you're about to get up and leave (after stealing one bottle of water and a granola bar from Charles' stash) the door opens again, revealing the disheveled driver, holding a small plaque with a number two in one hand and a Pirelli cap in the other. He is far more handsome up close, there isn't a screen or photograph that does him justice, and you've seen plenty of both during the day.

"You are not supposed to be here," is the first thing he says, frowning.

"I know," you feign nonchalance as best you can, although you are embarrassed. "I was leaving."

Charles still wears that confused expression on his face, and it makes you glad it hasn't changed to anger. "What were you doing here?"

"Stealing your refreshments," which is not a lie, as you're still holding both things in one hand, not without struggle.

He's not freaking out, which comes across as strange. How many times has he come to his private room to find a random girl waiting for him?

"Should have taken the Elix," he mutters, throwing the Pirelli cap in the empty part of the couch you had been occupying minutes before. "That thing is disgusting."

You can't help but chortle a laugh. "Glad you think so,"

Awkward silence finally falls in the room, and you know that's the signal for you to exit. You're still invading his privacy and while you're glad he really didn't seem to mind, you don't know how much longer he will be so patient.

"Don't tell anyone you were here, okay?" he calls after you, "Someone might get fired."

You nod but he doesn't see you, already minding his own business in his little private bubble. You're jealous to leave him in a space all to himself.

────────────

It takes an hour to get both drivers and you in the same room for the pictures Elix is dying to get. This is far from ridiculous, but you have a contract and so does Ferrari, so you don't have much of a choice.

"Are you feeling better?" Charles asks, and you think he's talking to his team mate until he clears his throat right in front of you. He's holding the Red Elix, just like the one in his private room.

"Who? Me?" you ask stupidly, and then you take a sip of the Gold Elix in your hand, it's so much worse than the Red.

"Yes, you."

"I'm okay, why?" you're suddenly defensive, this is the second time this guy sees you and he's acting all weird.

"Good," he says and also drinks from his Elix, failing to hide his distaste with a purse from his lips. "This thing is really gross," he whispers, and this time his teammate does join the conversation only by laughing.

Both must be exhausted and yet they're trying to put on a good show for the sponsors.

"I'm sorry about intruding in your room," you lower your voice, squeezing your drink.

Charles shrugs lightly, and drinks again, this time without grimacing. "Sometimes I need five minutes too."

You smile, and it's the first sincere smile you've shown all day.

"My mum likes your movies," he says casually, as someone yells that you need 'just one more picture, please!'

You dread the part where he says something along the lines of "Supercut is the best!" but instead, after he stops the automatic motion of taking the red can to his lips, he adds: "I like Loneliness, it's so depressing."

And you throw your head back to laugh.

─── team principal radio: ❝hello! thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed! i would appreciate to know your thoughts too! ♡❞

[ljh-writing-blog]

Batmom #1

     The first time you encountered the Batman, who you would later know as Bruce Wayne and your husband, is a day you would never forget.  Gotham’s Dark Knight had rescued you from a life of villainy and crime, your personal hero. It was the start of something beautiful you always said, although your relationship was anything but smooth in the beginning.

Past 

    You were a test subject of Jonathon Crane, he wanted to use fear toxin and psychological torture to awaken meta-genes in ordinary humans and you happened to be his most promising subject at the time. You remember volunteering for the program, they had framed it as test-trials for a new drug meant to strengthen immune systems and increase quality of life in exchange for a hefty payment dependent on how long you stayed in the program. After two years living in shitty motels and alleys you jumped on the offer. Anything was better than petty theft, eating from garbage cans, and sleeping in corrupt homeless shelters.

     Living in Gotham wasn’t kind, after your apartment and all your belongings had been destroyed when the Joker decided to go on a bombing spree you had no choice but to turn to the streets at 20 years old. Gotham’s Mayor and city officials had promised their citizens they would be rehomed and cared for, in reality the displaced apartment renters received a check for a hundred dollars worth of groceries and a two day stay at any hotel in the city. You gave your hotel and grocery voucher to your neighbor with two small children and an elderly mother to care for, she needed it more than you by far. Recuperating after that was nearly impossible. Anyone who said homeless people should just get a job was a damn fool, it wasn’t nearly as easy as it seemed when nice clothing and access to a shower was in scarce supply. The city had failed it’s people and it wouldn’t be the first time it failed Y/N. 

     In the beginning there was sixteen of you, an even split between the men and women. Some of them you recognized, like the two girls who worked the corner of your “street” night and day. There was a third usually with them but she had been murdered two weeks ago. The cops suspected an overdose but the streets knew, they talked and whispered in the night. She had been killed by a client, dumped in the alley that Y/N usually stayed in. That night had been awful, she had been the one to inform them of their friend’s death. She assumed her death had been a wake up call for the women, it had been for herself. She needed to get off the streets before she was just a girl in an alley, taken advantage of and left for dead. There was a few homeless men you recognize from nights spent around dumpster fires and sharing the days spoils. The rest were strangers and she found herself wondering what circumstances had brought them all together. 

     All the volunteers met at Gotham City Mall where you were given new clothes and bussed to a second location, halfway through your bus ride you were all instructed to put a blindfold on. A black cut of cloth had been given to each person, many of you were confused. Why couldn’t you see where you were going? You spoke up as several exchanged looks of fear, “Why can’t we see where we’re going? What’s going on?” You voiced the concerns easily felt throughout the bus, weary of the answer you would receive. What had you gotten yourself into? “The facility we’re going to is a top secret government owned building. This is standard precaution for any non personnel visiting the building.” A man towards the front answered, easing many fears. Not yours though, something felt wrong, you felt this man was lying. 

     Still, you led by example and put your blindfold on. When you had arrived and been shuffled into the building, your blindfolds being taken off, you were met with a stark white room. A scientist began speaking to you, explaining the trials you’d be going through and how you were to be separated. There would be one man and woman to a room, though when you were shown your “rooms” they looked much like a prison cell. They explained they wanted to study their, each man and woman’s, reactions to the opposite sex as they did their research. You started to  become suspicious as this was explained to you. Why would they need to study your reaction to other patients? You were supposed to be in trials for drugs related to strengthening the immune system, that should have nothing to do with other patients. In your head it made more sense for them to isolate all of you, what was going on? What was she about to be subjected to do? And worse, this had all been her doing. 

In the end, you were the only test subject to have survived the “trials” and torture. The trials, you had never been able to refer to your time in the facility as anything but torture and abuse. The scientists always else referred to them as trials, as if giving them any other name would make what they were doing even more sadistic and cruel. Subjecting you to different drugs like LSD, cocaine, Haloperidol, methamphetamines, and truth serum to expose your fears and use them against you. Sleep deprivation was one of their favorite forms of torture, it not only produced natural hallucinations but with the added fear toxin your hallucinations increased tenfold. After developing a dependency to certain drugs they forced you to consume they began to use withdrawal as a form of torture. 

     Your stay in the facility lasted three years, one year after your torture began your metagene that had previously lay dormant was activated. The scientists hypothesized that because of your mania and emotional displacement along with the fear toxin your metagene was influenced in a way that allowed you to manipulate the mind and the emotion fear. You felt all emotions but fear was much prominent, fear was the easiest to manipulate. Once your abilities manifested they began the brain washing. They knew you would never willingly submit to their commands with how much they had awakened your abilities so they began the brain washing. It was another year of  pharmacological torture before they were successful, you willingly began to do missions for Crane and his friends. You believed he had saved you from the streets and given you extraordinary powers, he had saved your life. Your third year stuck with Crane you commited crimes in the name of several villains, Jonathon gave you the alias the Scarlet Witch. Your powers manifested physically as a red energy, it behaved like a fog in a way: clouding the minds of your victims, manipulating their actions, and bringing their worst fears to the surface. 

     At 23 years old you were just a missing person’s report, a face lost to crime and a failing, corrupt police force. That was until Batman caught you, you were usually gone by the time he arrived to stop you. But this time you had faltered, you swore you recognized the faces you had been forced to mar with a bullet to the forehead. They had tried to speak to you before you killed them, to beg for their lives. But this was your mission, they were your mission. That had been the last mission you ever did for Jonathon Crane, the Batman took you into his custody that night. He delivered you to the Justice League. There you stayed while the League tried to find any information on how you had become this but all they had was a missing person’s report. 

     There they monitored your health and watched you go through withdrawal. It took Bruce three months to find the files that told the demise of Y/F/N Y/L/N. In that time you were diagnosed with a heart arrhythmia from the extended drug use you were subjected to. You gained weight, not so sickly looking anymore. You bonded with Diana, she was one of the few people who didn’t hide their faces from your. Somehow it made you feel more human, while you didn’t trust these people she trusted you enough to see the real her. You hadn’t been around someone so genuine in a long time. It took a year of physical and mental therapy for you to begin unlearning what had been brainwashed into you. In that time you grew closer to Batman. Somehow it seemed he understood what it was like to be unmade and made into something darker. That was the rough start to the beginning of your relationship. 

Present

You never expected to live the life you live now, a life in a mansion with too many kids to count and a husband who loves you unconditionally. A life with friends who she could rely on, some superpowered and some not. A butler who may as well be her father, oh how her young self would scoff at the idea of her life now. Bruce Wayne had given you so much and you only hoped one day you would repay the debt you owed him.

A/N: This is probably absolute shit but this is my idea for Batmom.Rn I’m just setting up backstory. I’ve always loved the idea of Scarlet Witch in the DCU because there’s so much backstory you could put in there. She (you) are still from Sokovia, her immigrant background is going to help tie in with Dick/Damian identity struggles. I also really wanted to do something with fear toxin because I feel Scarecrow is such an underrated villain. So here we have it, enjoy or don’t. I’d really appreciate feedback whether that’s likes/comments/reblogs. Thank you <3 

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Read It and Weep- Part 1

Pairing: NFL!Player!Rafe Cameron x Journalist!Reader

Summary: Sports journalist Y/n is covering a pro-NFL football game when she gets knocked down by wide reciever Rafe Cameron. He helps her up and immediately can't seem to take his eyes off of her as they celebrate their win. After, at the post game conference, him and the reader share an interesting conversation and he learns (earns) her name.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Violence, swearing, I think that's it honestly.

Song: "My Ordinary Life" by The Living Tombstones

A/n: This might be the most excited I've ever seen @tee-swizzle get over a fic I've written. This is some serious hot and cute and angsty shit, buckle up, it's quite a ride. This is part 1 of 10!

I always thought the only time I would enjoy men running around in costumes would be on Broadway.

The sophisticated, planned, calculated moves, the falsetto notes they hit while running around in expensive costumes that took hours and hours to create. Men on Broadway are just a whole other breed- don’t get me wrong, all actors and actresses alike are all impressive beyond belief, it’s a hard field to be a part of. But there’s something so groundbreaking and heartwarming to see men of all backgrounds doing what they love to do.

There’s just an art to it- Broadway- a beauty that a lot of people brush off and denounce as girly or even something that’s remarkably easy. They call theater kids loony (which coming from one, I’d have to agree just a bit), they’re constantly bullied and harassed but not when they make it to the big times. No- then they are set up on this pedestal where they are to be paid hundreds or thousands of dollars to get on stage, to dance and sing their favorite show tunes together where all of a sudden they’re people to look up to, forgetting all about their high school days and all the failed auditions that teared them down. But once they’re on that stage together, creating music and art, they’re a family in a sense. Leaving it all on the stage for the viewer, us, to enjoy. 

A brotherhood.

My new stage looks a little bit differently than it did when I was sixteen. 

My new stage consists of something similar- men, running around in matching outfits, same bright lights shining on them, sweat pouring down their necks, and they’re still a brotherhood- maybe even more so in a sense. But with this stage, there’s profanities, there's violence and, most of all, there are too many balls in one place at one time. 

Pun so intended.

The world of sports is not one that I saw myself getting into at the ripe age of twenty four, let alone football. I’ve always had a bit of a thing against football players but that happens when you grow up in the theater world where you’re constantly pushed around by the ‘higher class’ of the horrible high school hierarchy, being called names, shoved down stairs, having your lunch tossed into your lap. But the job that I was offered through a local journal in my hometown was just perfect for me- I couldn’t not take it. There would be no other job that could've come around that would’ve given me the same freetime and the ability to still have control over my schedule, all while supporting my home team. It gave me a chance to travel, to learn, and to be surrounded by attractive, sweaty men doing their thing. 

There’s a bit of a silver lining to it, I guess.

Working as a journalist for a professional football team was not the intended goal when I got my Bachelors degree in Journalism, nor was it the plan for my Masters. I wanted to go into freelancing or maybe dabble a bit in the socioeconomic crisis our country’s suffering from- maybe even write a few articles on how to save the turtles or some shit. 

But football? 

I spend most of my days on the sidelines, sketching down stats, learning plays and keeping up in the personal lives of our devoted players. I’m like one of those cheerleading girls I used to hate, practically a groupie of the team at this point. Even the coach and the other behind-the-scenes workers are on a first name basis with me at this point. 

Sixteen year old me would be disgusted- repulsed.

Current me? Not so disgusted as I’m watching a bunch of tall, bachelor-like men run around the field at top speed, tackling each other as the crowd colored in all different jerseys scream or boo in unison. I can’t fight the proud smile that’s on my lips as I look out at the field, just right there in front of me- I could reach out and just be a part of it. There’s something to home games that just gets your blood pumping in a special way, especially so close to playoffs, so close to glory and a big old fancy ring for our quarterback and team. It’s every team’s goal for the year but every news agency’s eyes are on us, watching us and the players so closely, betting and guessing that we’ll be the one to win everything this year. No pressure, right?

It’s an honor to be traveling with them all, I couldn’t have been paired with a more respectful group of men, even though some of them don’t even know my name or that I exist. They might see my name occasionally at the bottom of an article I’ve written about their triumphs or losses or they know me as the girl that they accidentally mistake for the water girl and who they then apologize profusely to following the mix up. 

Sarah the water girl and I look awfully a lot we’ve learned.

There’s not a lot of time left in the game now, less than two minutes in the last quarter and it’s tight, too close for comfort as the men in the front row of the stands scream their asses off, acting like their words will have any weight in the overall game. With how we’re playing right now, the defensive line tuckered out beyond belief, we’re not looking at winning, especially if they hold possession of the ball like they have been. The other team is smart, I’ll give them that, gnawing down at the clock, running down the time so if we did get the ball, we’d barely have the time to do anything remotely impressive. We’re down by 6 and if we’d just get a touchdown we’d be good and we would win, but we just need to get possession of the ball.

I write down the numbers of the players who’ve stuck out to me the most on this team to calm my nerves; number three Cameron offense, number seventeen McHarley defense, number 4 the quarterback- wait. 

 Why is everyone cheering? 

What just happened? 

Looking up from my notepad, I watch as our defense runs the ball in the opposite direction that we were going in before, instead towards the opposing team's endzone, indicating that, indeed, there was a turnover of some sort while I wasn’t paying attention. If that’s all it takes, my job just became a whole lot easier. 

The play resets, our offensive line and our quarterback stumble onto the field with a bit more pep in their steps compared to their previous run. They’re cheering and high fiving the defense as they pass each other in the middle of the field, bright smiles calming everyone's general anxiety and setting the record straight that we’re still in the game. There’s still a chance. 

They set themselves up within seconds and in moments they’re hiking the ball. I watch number three, one of my favorite wide receivers to watch, simply because of his overall spunk and sass for the game, subtly loving when he gets into little fights with people because I can always manage to hear his silly, boyish insults. He tries so hard to act tough, when he's really just the biggest puppy of all time. 

I’m so caught up in thinking about him, I completely miss him barreling my way just as the quarterback throws the ball in his direction. Cameron is wide open, no one even close to tackling him and I can hear him whooping as he runs towards the end zone. I grin wildly as he catches the ball, solidifying our win, and before the refs even signal for a TD, the whole crowd erupts in giggles and cheers. I go to clap and cheer for him but before I can, an opposing player is giving him one last shove for good measure and he is tumbling onto the ground, the ref beside me immediately throwing a flag into the air, just as Rafe slides in my direction full force. 

Before I can move, he takes me down to the ground. Hard. 

I hit the floor with a loud thud, ears ringing as my head slams against the turf and I can hear muffled voices and hands grabbing at me, brain rattling around in my head as I shove my eyes closed as tightly as they can, hands reaching up to cradle my aching skull. I can feel people trying to pry me up onto my feet, to help me up but I’ve barely even processed that I’ve fallen or that my favorite wide receiver is currently laying on both of my legs, trapping me to the ground. 

My eyes pop open moments later at the realization and I see cameras around me, mostly pointed at Cameron who’s kneeling in front of me, soft, blue, worried eyes gazing back at me as I struggle to find my voice. He looks at me, waiting for me to speak and, when I don’t, he simply reaches out, placing a firm, protective hand on the side of my head, steading my spinning eyes. I feel my body warming up at his touch, the loud, thrumming music playing in the stadium as an attempt to celebrate is drowned out by his voice filling my ears, his whole body leaning towards me so he can speak directly against the shell of my ear. 

“You good?” He yells over the cheering, thumb brushing against my temple, and I realize he’s not even celebrating the fact that he just won the game that’s sending us to playoff games, mapping the road to the Superbowl. I give him a half assed nod and a flushed smile and before I can say anything else, his teammates are pulling him up and into their arms, screaming loudly as boys can, all for the cameras as they pat each other on the helmets, knocking them together every once in a while.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I mutter to myself, pressing my pointer finger and thumb to the bridge of my nose to aid the headaches that’s creeping up the back of my neck, taking deep breaths and praying I don’t have a concussion. From across the field, through the mess of players and confetti, I can see number three looking over at me with kind, worried eyes that seem to want to say more than what he’s already said to me.

His eyes make me nearly forget that it’s my job to interview them. 

I guess I’ll ride my headache out and wait till the post game conference. 

–

From the time I got knocked down to the time when I stepped foot into the conference room, there were at least twenty-six different people who asked me if I was the one who was ‘tackled’ by Rafe Cameron after he caught the winning touchdown. After the third time, I started to feel a bit sheepish and honestly a bit embarrassed, wondering how long they’re going to string this out and ask me what it was like to be tackled by America’s most loved wide receiver. 

It was rough, I hit my head, it hurt- what else do they want from me? Do they want me to say I’m honored that he was so close to me, fangirl over his presence, that he made eye contact with me? Hell, he’s human and so am I. His reaction was purely a moment of humility and humanity shining through. 

But I totally did get butterflies.

But, to be honest, he is probably the most wholesome, mama’s boy you’ll ever see.

Dirty blonde, shaggy hair, blue shining eyes, overall toned to a T and he’s all meathead minus all of the misogyny and toxic masculinity. He’s always respectful in interviews, polite to women- it’s obvious he was raised well and anyone with a brain can tell that he’s wildly intelligent from his masters degree in Sports Communication. It’s impressive, his story. 

“So, you won the came, Cameron- how does it feel?” An interviewer calls out from the audience beside me, the happy smile on his face only feeding into the fact that he’s definitely a fan, and Rafe smiles handsomely, looking out across the audience with a simple, humble shrug. 

“Felt good taking the team to the playoffs. I couldn’t have done it without my quarterback, number 4, Greg Abernathy.” He reaches over to slap Greg on the back and I grin, scribbling down some words on my notepad, a small smile on my face as I listen to the boys commend each other in a bro-mance type love. They’re always very supportive of one another, having a type of relationship where you really don’t see one without hte other. They’re constantly training together, getting dinner together, having literal sleepovers at each other’s apartments (or so I’ve heard). They’re brothers, there’s no better description for the boys. “But I really have to give it up to the nice lady that I tackled, I feel horrible. I’d like to dedicate our win to her today since she obviously was a part of my excitement. You can put that in writing.” 

I’m sorry? 

Dedicated?

What?

All eyes turn to look at me and I feel my face drain of any color, every hair on my body sticking up as I suddenly feel so small in this room full of my very own coworkers and competitors. I can hear Rafe mutter a quiet ‘shit, she’s here?’ away from the mic and to Greg, who just chuckles and points in my direction, the direction that everyone happens to be looking in. I can see the looks in other journalists' and reporters' eyes, they want to talk to me, they want to shove microphones in my face but based on the ‘deer in headlights’ look I’m giving everyone, I think I’ll be safe from their interrogations. Rafe looks at me and his smile only grows, fingers reaching out to wrap around the mic to pull it closer to his lips as I anticipate what’s to come.

“Hi nice lady that I knocked over, are you okay?” His voice is ten times deeper than it was just moments ago and I can feel my brain melting just at the feeling of him looking back at me, matching my gaze as if he’s just as excited to be speaking to me one on one. 

Me. 

“I’m okay, just a bit banged up.” I call out, shakily shoving my pen and paper into my bag beside me to give him my undivided attention which, it’s not like he has to fight for it, I’m practically drooling simply because he’s gazing at me, giving me his complete and utter attention as hands raise around the room. The way he’s staring at me, eagerly hanging onto every word I say and I can see it, it’s not like he’s even trying to not seem completely enthralled with my every breath. 

“Man, you traumatized the poor girl.” Greg mutters into the mic and the room erupts in laughter and I bite back the laugh that wants to escape me but I don’t dare allow the giggles to leave me when Rafe is just staring me down with a soft look and a gentle smile, something completely opposite of his rowdy behavior and profanities on the field. But after a second, a look of realization passes across his expression and he turns to look at Greg with a worried expression before glancing back at me.

“I did not- you’re not traumatized, right?” He asks me and I laugh, waving him off as I reach up to knock at my own head. What a stupid move, Y/l/n, get it together.

“No, god no. It happens.” I chuckle, brushing off his concerns of injury and he visibly relaxes, head bobbing in a gentle nod as he laughs sheepishly, almost embarrassed that he seemed to care so much in front of a room of random people. “It could’ve been worse. Could’ve been the other team, they wouldn’t have helped me up.”

“So you’re saying his charisma and manners is what saved him from being brutalized all over the internet?” Greg interrupts before Rafe can say anything with a wide eyed, shocked, teasing look.

“For sure.” I grin proudly, already thinking about how excited I’ll be to call my dad after this conference and tell him all about how I got to talk to and compliment one of his favorite players in the NFL. He’s going to shit his pants. He’s been gushing about his stats for the two years that Rafe’s been on the team, every Sunday, blabbering about his stats, his goals, his story- hell I probably know more about him than anyone else in this room right now.

“Well, I appreciate that. My step mom will be happy to hear she did something right.” Rafe blushes warmly, the redness creeping down his neck and under the polo that he wears as another rumble of laughter rolls over the room like a wave and I keep it in the back of my mind to make it known in my article that he’s definitely some sort of mama’s boy through and through. No wonder he’s so respectful. 

“Happy to help.” I smile warmly, the room falling awkwardly silent again before the reporters buzz with questions like angry bees, eager to move on from Rafe and I ogling each other oddly from across the room. I can’t fight the butterflies fluttering in my stomach at the conversation we just had; there was no hint of annoyance, only eager questions and concern that I genuinely do appreciate. He didn’t need to follow up with me, he didn’t need to call me out in regards to their win, all that without even knowing I was here. 

But he did.

That matters for something, right?

Right?

“Hey, before we move on, I just wanna get your name- what’s your name? Are you one of our journalists?” Rafe asks, quickly grabbing hold of the mic firmly in his fist before Greg can pull it away from him and I nod firmly and proudly.

“My name’s Y/n Y/l/n and, yeah, I’ve worked for you guys for nearly eight months.” I swallow my nerves, now suddenly aware that he knows who I am and can talk to me and look for me in any crowd and just know who I am. Rafe Cameron knows who I am. 

It takes a second but I’m slowly realizing that he’s truly just a person and not anything to be afraid of. 

Right?

“Oh my god she’s the one who wrote that article about your tweets on twitter like two weeks ago.” Greg gasps and the room turns to me once again, confusion and shock written across all of their faces and, I’ve got to give it to him, I’m shocked that they even read articles about them. I assumed they just filter it out and try not to pay attention to the news headlines with their names in it but, now that I know that they read them, I’ll be more careful when throwing the word ‘handsome’ around in my pieces.

“Guilty as charged.” I breathe a sigh, reaching up to rub at the back of my neck awkwardly and a sort of tension falls over the room as everyone waits for a more in depth answer from me, their eyes (especially Rafe’s) practically begging for why I wrote the article. “I think it’s nice for young viewers, especially young boys, to see someone who’s a better influence than most of the sports players that are in the media.” A nod of agreement falls across the room and Rafe smiles wholesomely, looking at Greg with a happily proud expression written across his face, like he’s made it.

“So I’m a role model, that’s what you are saying?” He asks but there’s no cockiness or arrogance to his voice- no- just pure and utter pride and vulnerability at the thought of doing right by the football world and, in my opinion, he definitely has. 

All of the gala’s he’s attended, the hospitals he’s visited to talk to and to comfort young children, the way his smile lights up the locker room- even if they lose- the beaming smile he shows if they do win, and all of the money he’s donated to so many important organizations- my point, and the point of my article was, is that he’s what the NFL should be fronting, not the garbage-like, questionable, geriatric old men who need to retire.

“Exactly what I’m saying.” I smile firmly, not tearing my gaze away from his as he nods, leaning back in his chair and he finally appears content with our conversation because he finally allows Greg to take the mic back, but his eyes do not leave me as the room fills with questions once more.

“Hey, that was sweet and all, but can we talk about football now?”

[calisources]

GEORGE R.R MARTIN'S FIRE AND BLOOD QUOTES. all sentences here were taken from the book fire and blood which in part was adapted to hbo's house of the dragon. change pronouns, names and location as you see fit. warning for some foul language and mentions of inc*st.

“Then the storm broke, and the dragons danced.”

“A ruler needs a good head and a true heart, a cock is not essential.”

“Words are wind, but wind can fan a fire.”

 “My father and my uncle fought words with steel and flame. We shall fight words with words, and put out the fires before they start.”

“The seeds of war are oft planted during times of peace.”

“Only you could have won me away from the sea. I came back from the ends of the earth for you.”

“The Iron Throne will go to the man who has the strength to seize it.”

“I fed my last husband to my dragon. If you make me take another, I may eat him myself.”

“Let no man think that the fire of the Targaryens did not burn in his veins.”

“We are as the gods made us. Strong and weak, good and bad, cruel and kind, heroic and selfish. Know that if you would rule over the kingdom of men.”

“This is a night for song and sin and drink, for come the morrow, the virtuous and the vile burn together.”

“Thrones are won with swords, not quills. Spill blood, not ink.”

“Such a fierce little thing she is, she has no need of comfort. They are wrong in that, I fear. All men need comfort.”

“When the gods are silent, lords and kings will make themselves heard.”

“I do not have the time for tears.”

“Pride goes before a fall.”

“It is always winter now.”

“I will not fight you, nor will I kneel to you. Dorne has no king. Tell your brother that.”

“But we will come again, Princess, and the next time we shall come with fire and blood.”

“Surely the Mother Above loved my children more. She took so many of them away from me.”

“The tradition amongst the Targaryens had always been to marry kin to kin. Wedding brother to sister was thought to be ideal. Failing that, a girl might wed an uncle, a cousin, or a nephew, a boy a cousin, aunt, or niece.”

“ This practice went back to Old Valyria, where it was common amongst many of the ancient families, particularly those who bred and rode dragons.”

“The blood of the dragon must remain pure, the wisdom went. ”

“Familiarity is the father of acceptance.”

“Brother, you need never kneel to me again. We shall rule this realm together, you and I.”

“All men are sinners.”

“You rose up in rebellion against your lawful queen and helped drive her from this city to her death.”

“We came here to be free of Old Valyria, and your Targaryens are Valyrian to the bone.”

“They practiced blood magic and other dark arts as well, delving deep into the earth for secrets best left buried and twisting the flesh of beasts and men to fashion monstrous and unnatural chimeras. For there sins the gods in their wroth struck them down.”

“She has such a tender heart. Give me time, and I will find a lord to cherish her.”

“Not every Targaryen needs to wield a sword and ride a dragon.”

“I would sooner she wed a lord, but if she prefers a hedge knight or a merchant or Pate the Pig Boy, I am past the point of caring, so long as she picks someone.”

“If she wants I can find a hundred men and line them up before her naked, and she can pick the one she likes.”

“I'll have no songs about how brave you died, Kingmaker. There's tens o'thousands dead on your account.”

“Who can presume to know the heart of a dragon?”

“The Red Keep has its secrets, known only to the dead.”

“He bound the land together, and made of seven kingdoms, one.”

“Sixteen Targaryens followed Aegon the Dragon to the Iron Throne, before the dynasty was at last toppled in Robert’s Rebellion. “

“Dorne has danced with dragons before, I would sooner sleep with scorpions.”

“Winter’s here. Time for us to go. No better way to die than sword in hand.”

“The High Septon was the true king of Westeros, in all but name.”

“I will leave the making of law to you, brother, I would sooner make sons.”

“And with his death, the war of ravens and envoys and marriage pacts came to an end, and the war of fire and blood began in earnest.”

“Paying coin to the usurper is proof of naught but treason.”

“Poison was regarded as a coward’s weapon, and lacking in honor.”

“For both the blacks and the greens, blood called to blood for vengeance.”

“It was a good time, a golden autumn, a time of peace and plenty. But winter was coming.”

“The confidence of youth counts for little against the cunning of age.”

“Thankfully I proved too small for the wolf to notice.”

“Such stories make for charming songs, but poor history.”

“Why be a lord when you can be a king?”

“Only the gods truly know the hearts of men, and women are full as strange.”

“Whatever her powers, it would seem Daemon Targaryen was immune to them, for little is heard of this supposed sorceress whilst the prince held Harrenhal.”

“They called themselves the Winter Wolves.”

“We have come to die for the dragon queen.”

“Under the terms of the pact, the prince’s firstborn daughter would be sent north at the age of seven, to be fostered at Winterfell until such time as she was old enough to marry Lord Cregan’s heir.”

“For the rank and file of the City Watch still loved Daemon Targaryen, the Prince of the City who had commanded them of old.”

“We are done with writing letters.”

“The North was too remote to be of much import in the fight.”

“The Dance of the Dragons is the flowery name bestowed upon the savage internecine struggle for the Iron Throne of Westeros fought between two rival branches of House Targaryen during the years 129 to 131 AC.”

“His mount was blood-red Caraxes, fiercest of all the young dragons in the Dragonpit.”

“The bells began to ring on the tenth day of the third moon of 129 AC, tolling the end of a reign.”

“These happy bastards were said to have been “born of dragonseed,” and in time became known simply as “seeds.”

“House Tyrell would take no part in this struggle.”

“For all the vaunted strength of its walls, King’s Landing fell in less than a day.”

“This is a night for song and sin and drink, for come the morrow, the virtuous and the vile burn together.”

“How many came to see the crowning remains a matter of dispute.”

“This we do know: Cregan Stark and Jacaerys Velaryon reached an accord, and signed and sealed the agreement that Grand Maester Munkun calls “the Pact of Ice and Fire” in his True Telling.”

“Here I have you to myself, day and night,when we go back, I shall be fortunate to snatch an hour with you, for every man in Westeros will want a piece of you."

“I have the dragon’s bastard in me.”

[todaysdocument]

Telegram from Commander Alfred H. Terry to the Adjutant General of the Division of the Missouri

Record Group 393: Records of U.S. Army Continental CommandsSeries: Special Files of Letters ReceivedFile Unit: Sioux Indian Papers, 1879 - Brief and Letters Received 3721 (with enclosures to 3571) Thru 5219

[pre-printed form]

The Western Union Telegraph Company.

The rules of this company require that all messages received for transmission shall be written on the message blanks of the Company.

under and subject to the conditions printed thereon, which conditions have been agreed to by the sender of the following message.

A.R.Brewer, Secretary. William Orton, Prest.

No. [handwritten] 242 [/handwritten]

[handwritten at top of page] [illegible] / 36/ 29P [/[

[handwritten at right] 123 [ppw?] [/]

Dated [handwritten] At Paul/Minn/23 [/handwritten]

To [handwritten] Adjutant Gent Division [/handwritten]

Rec'd at cor. Lasalle and Washington Sts.,

Chicago, Ills. [handwritten] July 23, 1879 [/handwritten]

[handwritten] Missouri Chicago

On the seventeenth June the advance of [Mibs?] Column

under Lieutenant Clark second cavalry composed of

Lieutenant Bordens Company fifth infantry Lieutenant

Hoppins company second cavalry and fifty Indian scouts

had a sharp engagement between Beaver Creek + Mouth of

frenchmans Creek with four hundred Hostile Indians the

indians were pursued twelve miles when the troops in

advance became surrounded [illegible letters stricken through] Main Command was moved

forward rapidly + the Enemy fled North of Milk river

Colonel Miles reports that the troops engaged fought in

admirable order + are entitled to much credit that the action

of our Indians was quite satisfactory Cheyennes, Sioux,

Crows, Assiniboines and Bannacks fighting with the troops

Killing several Hostile Indians + forcing the enemy to

abandon a large amount of property. Our casualties are

two men Company Second Cavalry wounded two Cheyenne

and one Crow Indian Scouts killed and one Assiniboine

scout seriously wounded. A large scouting party sent

upon North side of Milk river near Head of

Porcupine reports to Colonel Miles that main

camp under Sitting Bull composed of sixteen

hundred lodges is on little rocky having moved over

from Frenchmans Creek Colonel Miles says this

report is corroborated by several others + by men

who were in the Hostile Camp as late as June Sixteenth

+ that he expects to move up between frenchmans Creek +

the Little Rocky where possibly the Main body of

Indians may be engaged

Terry Department Commander

246 paid Govt Rate

# 532

[stamped] RECEIVED

[stamped] JUL

[stamped] [2?] 23

[stamped] 1879

[stamped] MIL.DIV.,MO.

#245

[dangerpronebuddie]

Writing Patterns

Tagged by @rainbow-nerdss thank you!! 🩷

rules: share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

1. And if there's something you need to tell Eddie, you will. Just, in your own time.

(Made A Difference In My World)

2. Eddie doesn't want to be here.

(From The Wound of The Pricked Hand)

3. "Okay, listen up," Bobby says- commands- as everyone files out of the engine.

(Does Sprouts Sell Engagement Rings?)

4. Eddie’s first thought when they arrived on scene was not again.

(I've Fought Tougher Men (But I Really Can't Remember When))

5. It starts- again- on a sunny street in LA.

(Oh What A Way To Die)

6. Buck doesn't flinch when he hears the shot. He doesn't flinch when the sickening thump reaches his ears a half second later.

(But if I should lose your love, dear (I don't know what I'd do)

7. Buck wants to blame the alcohol.

(And Every New Boy That You Meet (He Doesn’t Know The Real Surprise))

8. Buck sips his water for like the tenth time in two minutes and rubs his sweaty palms on his thighs.

(What Breathing Feels Like)

9. This should wait.

(To The Core (I Love You))

10. “Did you know over sixteen hundred California residents have been murdered by serial killers since 1900?” Buck asked, staring down at his phone.

(Baby, I'm Never Gonna Leave You)

There's more patterns in the fic titles than anything else honestly. But I guess... mostly vague and often ominous first lines??

No pressure tagging: @lover-of-mine @tizniz @kitteneddiediaz @exhuastedpigeon @daffi-990 @thekristen999 @hippolotamus @inell and anyone else who wants to!! 🥰🩷

[slippinmickeys]

Drabble prompt for you: M&S are together and she teases him while on a case. Like sexually teases him. Okay, maybe it's OOC but i NEED it.

The body was in a water hazard off the 15th green and they had to take a golf cart to get to it. Mulder drove it with a practiced ease that Scully’s Navy base upbringing could not compute.

They came up behind a foursome on 12 that was on the tee box and Mulder slowed the cart, stopped and gave the players silence so the last two guys could tee off. The men waved when he finally passed and Mulder saluted and zipped down the second cut.

“Woof,” he said. “Did you see that last guy? That six hundred dollar driver ain’t gonna to fix that two dollar swing.”

Scully gave him a look.

“What?” he said. “Have you never golfed?”

She blanched. “Navy brat, Mulder.”

“Not even once?”

“It took me six tries to get the through windmill at putt-putt when I was twelve,” she answered him. “My dreams died that day. Do you still play?”

“Not since I was a teenager, but Bill Mulder insisted on lessons thrice a summer and Teena Mulder liked the bloody marys at the clubhouse.”

Mulder craned his neck around the next dogleg and then zipped through a fairway when he found the coast was clear.

“Did you wear plaid pants? Argyle socks? Tell me you did.” She was desperately trying to picture him.

Up ahead, Scully could see the little lake where the body was. There were maintenance vehicles next to it and a few local deputies who’d also conscripted club golf carts.

Mulder didn’t answer, thought maybe she was making fun of him.

“I dressed up as a golfer for Halloween when I was sixteen,” she offered.

“My culture is not your costume,” he said, slowing the cart.

“Short skirt,” she said, trying to get a rise out of him. “Long argyle socks.”

He parked the cart and she saw him swallow uncomfortably. The deputies craned their necks to get a look at the feds who’d just pulled up.

“You dressed up for Halloween when you were 16?” he asked.

“Caddyshack had just come out,” she explained, sliding out of the cart. Her heels sunk a little into the turf. “And I was trying to get a date with Mitchell O’Brien.”

“I think I golfed with Mitchell O’Brien,” Mulder said. He was desperately trying to fight an erection.

Scully looked at him a long moment, glanced down at his lap with a smirk. “Well…” Scully said, channeling Ted Knight. “We’re waiting.”

“You’re going to pay for this at home,” he said.

“Sure hope so,” she grinned, turning and sashaying over to LLE.

[peachyfuck18]

Favorite Horror Icons as Fairy Tales

For my sake I’ll be doing the original fairytales not the Disney versions. Enjoy

Billy Loomis-Sleeping Beauty by Charles Perrault

-When Billy was first born the King and Queen treated him as their own pride and joy so much that they forgot to hold a festival for a legendary demon as the king put it that his son was more important than some stupid dream demon

-Of course the demon Frederick was not happy to hear this and so in the middle of the night secretly cursed the young prince to die by a spindle of a spinning wheel when he is sixteen

-But Nancy, a good fairy loved throughout the land gets wind of this and on the same night alters the curse by having his death be a long sleep for a hundred days before a prince comes to save him

-Sixteen years go by and Billy is now a beautiful young prince that all the men in the kingdom want for his beauty but he always turns them down cause he dreams of a better man despite his lady in waiting Sidney’s insistence on finding a husband

-When his parents and the guards aren’t looking he manages to get away from the palace walls and comes across a beautiful cabin and while exploring sees a spinning wheel and has fun with it trying it out before he pricks his finger and a needle is now stuck in his finger and he’s soon passed out on the floor

-It doesn’t take long before Sidney finds him and his parents soon after and in grief turn the cabin into his resting place and Nancy, hoping to never see this day decides to help Billy by making enchanted roses sprout all over the cabin so those with an evil heart will never take advantage of the young prince

-A hundred days go by and Stu, a prince from a neighboring kingdom, is out on a hunting trip with his friends when he gets separated from them and it’s about to storm that night til he finds the cabin. The roses, not seeing a threat, unravel to let him in and while looking for somewhere to sleep spots Billy on the bed

-At first he’s confused cause how could someone be sleeping so soundly as if they were dead when they don’t look dead and thinks maybe it’s a fae or a witch playing tricks but he tries to get him to wake up til he ends up seeing the needle on his finger and thinking that the beautiful boy fainted from having it in takes it out awakening Billy

-Billy is awake but is still tired and sleeping and bye the way he’s gripping onto Stu’s hand he decides to let himself in the bed and the two spend the night cuddling away safe from the storm outside

-The next day Billy is fully awake and is confused on why he’s in a bed and especially who the handsome boy besides him is

-When Stu wakes up he’s surprised that the boy from the night before is awake and is looking at him with a strange fondness

-After introducing each other Billy and Stu get to know each other for the rest of the day and it’s there Stu tells Billy about how his kingdom thinks he has died and at first Billy is distraught before Stu comforts him in his arms

-When Stu’s friends find him they see the beautiful young prince of the neighboring kingdom in his arms and Sidney reveals that she had taken a job as a handmaiden at Stu’s palace to deal with the grief but is glad that he is alive and well and Stu proposes to Billy to let him take him back to the kingdom and marry him and Billy immediately says yes

-When they get back to the kingdom Stu and Billy have a grand wedding and Billy is soon reunited with his parents after Stu invite them over for a grand dinner

Jennifer Check-Snow White by The Grimm Brothers

-When a young queen is pregnant and sewing near an open window during a winter snowfall when she pricks her finger with her needle causing a drop of blood to drip onto the freshly fallen white snow on the black windowsill. She then wishes for a daughter with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood and hair as black as ebony

-Sometime later the queen gives birth to a beautiful baby girl who she names Jennifer before dying a day later. A year later the king soon immediately marries a woman, Elaine Parks, who is very beautiful but very vain and is a dark witch who owns a magic mirror who she asks everyday who is the fairest of them all and the mirror always replies with her who is the fairest

-When Jennifer is seven years old the king soon dies and Elaine immediately begins to disregard her stepdaughter by removing her status as a princess and making her a servant in the castle

-When Jennifer is seventeen years olds she has grown into a very beautiful girl and one day Elaine goes to her mirror again to ask who is the fairest when to her shock and horror the mirror answers Jennifer. But the queen gets an idea to get her huntsman to take her daughter to the woods and kill her by lying that she is a succubus killing men and to kill her and bring her back her heart as proof

-The Huntsman tries to kill her but can’t bring himself to do it and tells Jennifer the truth about her stepmother and Jennifer soon runs away coming across an empty cabin where she takes a nap on one of the three beds

-The owners of the house, three brothers, Bo, a blacksmith , Vincent, a coffin builder and Lester, a miner get back from work when they see a girl sleeping in one of their beds and she wakes up and explains everything to them and the brothers take pity on her and decide to let her stay as long as she cleans and cooks for them

-Several weeks go by and Elaine thinks that the huntsman has killed her stepdaughter when in reality he actually killed a wild boar in place of Jennifer and after asking her mirror who’s the fairest of them all it answers with Jennifer again and of course Elaine decides to end this and disguises herself as a poor little girl selling apples and puts on a convicting act to trick Jennifer into eating the poisoned one she had for her and as soon as Jennifer goes down Elaine knows she had won

-Bo, Vincent and Lester soon find her and try everything to wake her up but of course nothing works and they build a coffin out of gold and glass and keep her deep in the woods where she’ll hopefully rest in piece while visiting every chance they can to mourn

-What they don’t know is a young peasant girl, Anita "Needy" Lesnicki, finds her body and after realizing she isn’t dead she decides to spend every day with her when she can chatting and being with her for a year before realizing something in her throat and immediately squeezes her to get it out and when Jennifer wakes up she’s greeted by a very pleasant sight of a pretty young peasant girl and after getting to know each other Jennifer asks Needy to marry her to which she gladly accepts and the two soon are making their back to the kingdom with the Bo, Vincent and Lester celebrating as well

-When Elaine is again asking her mirror who is the fairest of them all to her shock the mirror answers Jennifer and she dies of shock not only seconds later

-When Jennifer gets back to the palace she’s immediately given back her royal status and is soon crowned queen with Needy as her queen’s consort and the two live happily ever after with Bo, Vincent and Lester being given great riches as an award for taking care of her

Patrick Bateman-The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen

-Patrick is a son of the king of the ocean and loves hearing the stories from his grandmother and watching the daily lives of humans and on the day of his birthday he watches humans from a rock afar with his grandmother when he asks about the afterlife. His grandmother explains that a merperson can live up to three hundred years old and when they die they turn into sea foam and cease to exist forever and that a humans lifespan, while shorter, have an eternal soul that lives on in Heaven

-Thinking about an eternal soul he decides to see a boat party to get his mind off it and sees a girl Jean, a writer hired by aristocrats to provide singers with lyrics they hire at their parties. He soon falls in love with her and when the ship gets caught up in a storm and when Jean gets thrown overboard Patrick immediately swoops in to save her and delivers her unconscious to the shore to a group of sailors before going back to the ocean

-Now realizing that a mortal soul and having a human love him is now on the top of his priority he visits the sea sorceress, Amanda Young, who tells him that if the woman he loves does not marry him and give a part of her soul to him he will turn into seafoam and die and that she will make Patrick a potion to turn him human in exchange for his voice. He is soon made to cut his throat and remove his vocal cords and as soon he feels the painful transformation from merman to human soon passes out and washes up on shore where he’s found by Jean

-Patrick soon wakes up with Jean tending to his neck wound and is now ecstatic to find himself not only human but near the woman of his dreams. It’s not long before Jean and Patrick are now hanging out with Patrick helping Jean with her poems usually about mermaids and life under the sea even if he’s mute

-But only problem Patrick doesn’t realize that while Jean cares for him she doesn’t love him like a lover would but more like how one would love a brother or cousin

-It’s one day that while Jean and Patrick are walking through the streets of town that Jean bumps into the wealthiest man in town Paul Allen and they both start to fall in love pretty much ignoring Patrick and him fearing the end of his life

-It’s not long that Paul finally proposes to Jean and they soon have a boat wedding with Patrick smiling through his broken heart knowing his time has come and that not only will Jean not love him but he will never experience a mortal soul

-As Patrick’s enjoying his last night as a human he sees his brother, Sean, down below and he explains that he visited the sea sorceress and in exchange for a knife that will return Patrick to his normal mermaid form he cut off his thumb and explains that when he kills Jean he’ll be saved

-As Patrick is about to kill Jean in her sleep he realizes he can’t kill the woman he still loves and cares for and throws himself into the ocean slowly becoming sea foam

-Only instead of ceasing to exist he feels the warm sun and discovers that he has turned into an ethereal earthbound spirit known as the son of the air and as he ascends to the air he is greeted by other sons and daughters of the air who tell him because of his selflessness he has become a son of the air and he is given a year to obtain a soul and join the other souls in Heaven but for that year he decides to watch over Jean and be happy to see her happy

Ginger Fitzgerald-Little Red Riding Hood by The Grimm Brothers

-On a sunny day Ginger and her sister Bridgette are told to bring their sick grandma wine and some cupcakes by their mom and told to stay on the path

-Of course being sixteen they decide to go off the path and have goof off instead staying out really late but things go from good to bad when Ginger is attacked by and bit by a wolf

-When Bridgette eventually gets help from a local huntsman Sam, he offers to let them stay til Gingers bite is healed

-The next day Ginger starts to get really moody and irritable but Bridgette and Sam thinks it’s just cause of the wolf bite

-It isn’t til midnight at a full moon that Bridgette hears a strange noise and goes to see Ginger twist and turn in her sleep and eventually Bridgette sees the transformation from human to wolf

-Ginger nearly attacks Bridgette but is soon stopped by Sam with his shotgun and with that Ginger escapes into the night and Bridgette and Sam give chase

-They run after the wolf only to find themselves at Ginger and Bridgette’s grandmother’s house that Bridgette knows she has to stop Ginger before she does something

-Taking the shotgun from Sam she puts a bullet in between Gingers eye killing her instantly and waking up their grandma in the process and seeing what has become of Ginger

-Bridgette decides to live with Sam and together they bury Gingers corpse and eventually two years later get married and as Bridgette is pregnant she looks up at the full moon and wonders if the name Ginger would be a good baby name

Brahms Heelshire-Rapunzel by The Grimm Brothers

-While the Heelshires are a very wealthy family that doesn’t mean that life gets difficult especially when Mrs Heelshire, while pregnant, starts craving a very distinct cabbage that the only way to get is by the witch’s garden

-Mr Heelshire doesn’t want to do it but after seeing his wife in the state she’s in now decides to steal the cabbage and is successful at getting some without the witch noticing but after a week his wife craves it again but this time he gets caught by the witch Pearl and she makes a bargain with him. His first born child for the cabbage and he makes a deal with her

-Of course he doesn’t tell his wife until the day comes for Pearl to take the baby away and after seeing a son decides to name the boy Brahms and keeps him in a tower far from civilization and gets in with Brahms long hair that she forbids him to cut

-One ray Billy Lenz, local village idiot happens to stumble upon the tower after hearing a beautiful voice and wants to get in but can’t so stakes out for a day before Pearl comes back and tells Brahm to let his hair down that he has ticket in

-When Pearl is away again Billy manages to sneak his way in mimicking Pearls voice and sees Brahms and immediately falls in love with him

-Brahms is confused and scared at the strange man that managed to break in but after an hour Billy coaxes him out and they soon get to know each other where it’s everyday their seeing one another and Brahms soon falls in love with Billy

-The two plan to escape with one another but Pearl finds out after hearing Brahms sing about Billy and after interrogating Brahms finds out and cuts his hair off and casts him out the tower and into the woods

-Not surprisingly Billy was outside the tower waiting to runaway with Brahms but after finding out that Brahms hair was cut by the witch herself he decides to go on a quest to find Brahms

-It’s a brutal week until he sees a small cabin and there he finds Brahms and after the two embrace Brahms and Billy decide to get married and live happily ever after

Carrie White-Cinderella by Charles Perrault

-Carrie White is a beautiful girl living with her mother Margaret White far from town and civilization

-When Margaret was horribly assaulted by her lover she became pregnant with Carrie which resulted in the town and the church shunning them and for that reason Margaret takes out her frustration on her daughter who in her eyes “something so full of sin shouldn’t even be considered so beautiful”

-But Carrie has her mice friends she managed to befriend and gives them names

Bill, Stan, Richie, Eddie, Ben, Beverly and Mike and some bird friends

-The day of the royal ball happens and each maiden in the land is ordered to attend

-Hopeful for a night out Carrie secretly makes herself a dress but on the night of the ball Margaret catches Carrie and locks her in the closet and tears the dress up and all Carrie can do is cry before the door is opened and she sees a glowing woman with butterfly wings

-The woman introduces herself as Wendy and decides to let her have a night at the ball and turns a pumpkin into a carriage, the birds into horses and the mice into her servants but also helps make Carrie a dress and shoes made of glass but tells Carrie that at midnight she must return as the magic will wear off soon

-At the ball Carrie is having a great time when Sue, a princess from another kingdom and friend of Prince Tommy sees Carrie and asks her to dance and to her delight both girls end up dancing the night away before the clock strikes midnight and Carrie immediately has to go home but Sue tries to catch her not knowing her name and the only thing remaining of the girl is just a shoe

-The next day while Carrie is doing house chores Margaret ends up finding out about the ball and goes to attack her but before she even lays a hand on her there’s a knock on the door and Sue is standing there not believing she found the girl from the ball and after asking her to try the glass shoe on and it fits Sue immediately proposes and Carrie says yes and Carrie is soon take to Sue’s kingdom where the two spend their days in happiness and live happily ever after

Ash Williams-Swan Lake by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky

-Ash Williams is the son of the town blacksmith who likes the simplicity in his life with his father Brock and his sister Cheryl

-One day he decides to walk through the forest and as he’s getting a drink from the fresh lake and it’s there he ends up face to face with the most feared creature in the land, The Deadite King

-At first Ash is terrified of the dreaded creature before the Deadite takes his hand and kisses it while the king goes on about how he had seen his beauty from afar and out of nowhere asks Ash to be his bride of all things

-Ash says no hopefully naive that the king will get the hint but instead The Deadite King decides if he can’t have Ash then no one can and kidnapped him and cursed him to be a swan by day so no one will fall in love with him and human by night to have him for himself

-A year goes bye and the young king Herbert West is doing some writing before he wants to settle down and when he sees a swan with a crown he gets curious and follows the swan only for the sun to set and to the swan turn from a bird to beautiful man dressed in all white

-Of course Ash is freaked out before he realizes Herbert is not gonna hurt him the two get to know each other through the night and Ash tells Herbert everything from the curse to the Deadite King

-Herbert immediately now recognizes him as the blacksmith’s son who went missing a year ago and tells Ash how his family has been searching for him. Ash tells Herbert that the only way to break the curse is for someone to make a vow of everlasting love to him and prove it to the world and Herbert decides at his ball to invite Ash and help him break his curse

-What they didn’t know is that The Deadite Kings daughter, Ruby heard everything and tells her father and when the Deadite King tells Ash to forget Herbert and marry him instead but Ash just says no and that Herbert is the one he loves

-Now even more angry The Deadite King locks Ash up before morning so that he can’t ever leave and that Herbert can’t break the curse

-When Herbert throws his ball he invites Cheryl after coming to her with news Ash is still alive and of course “Ash” shows up strangely with a strange man and wearing all black instead of white but he doesn’t care and dances with and makes a vow of love to “Ash”

-But when midnight strikes “Ash” reveals himself to be Ruby in disguise and the man to be the Deadite King its then Herbert realizes he made a mistake and with Cheryl rushes back to the lake only to find Ash in human form slowly dying from a broken heart

-In a fit of rage Cheryl and Herbert begin to fight the Deadite King and while their clearly outmatched Herbert picks up a large stick and drives it through the Deadite Kings heart and it’s there that the curse is broken and Ash is now fully human again

-Cheryl and Ash have their sibling reunion and Herbert takes them back to their father who’s just so happy to see his son again and of course Herbert proposes to the real Ash and have a grand wedding the following week’s living happily ever after