#this is not written by alexander can you tell

[iwrotetheother51]

RIP Alexander Hamilton, you would've loved the word count tool in Google Docs.

[grandhotelabyss]

Advice/hard truths for writers?

The best piece of practical advice I know is a classic from Hemingway (qtd. here):

The most important thing I’ve learned about writing is never write too much at a time… Never pump yourself dry. Leave a little for the next day. The main thing is to know when to stop. Don’t wait till you’ve written yourself out. When you’re still going good and you come to an interesting place and you know what’s going to happen next, that’s the time to stop. Then leave it alone and don’t think about it; let your subconscious mind do the work.

Also, especially if you're young, you should read more than you write. If you're serious about writing, you'll want to write more than you read when you get old; you need, then, to lay the important books as your foundation early. I like this passage from Samuel R. Delany's "Some Advice for the Intermediate and Advanced Creative Writing Student" (collected in both Shorter Views and About Writing):

You need to read Balzac, Stendhal, Flaubert, and Zola; you need to read Austen, Thackeray, the Brontes, Dickens, George Eliot, and Hardy; you need to read Hawthorne, Melville, James, Woolf, Joyce, and Faulkner; you need to read Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Turgenev, Goncherov, Gogol, Bely, Khlebnikov, and Flaubert; you need to read Stephen Crane, Mark Twain, Edward Dahlberg, John Steinbeck, Jean Rhys, Glenway Wescott, John O'Hara, James Gould Cozzens, Angus Wilson, Patrick White, Alexander Trocchi, Iris Murdoch, Graham Greene, Evelyn Waugh, Anthony Powell, Vladimir Nabokov; you need to read Nella Larsen, Knut Hamsun, Edwin Demby, Saul Bellow, Lawrence Durrell, John Updike, John Barth, Philip Roth, Coleman Dowell, William Gaddis, William Gass, Marguerite Young, Thomas Pynchon, Paul West, Bertha Harris, Melvin Dixon, Daryll Pinckney, Darryl Ponicsan, and John Keene, Jr.; you need to read Thomas M. Disch, Joanna Russ, Richard Powers, Carroll Maso, Edmund White, Jayne Ann Phillips, Robert Gluck, and Julian Barnes—you need to read them and a whole lot more; you need to read them not so that you will know what they have written about, but so that you can begin to absorb some of the more ambitious models for what the novel can be.

Note: I haven't read every single writer on that list; there are even three I've literally never heard of; I can think of others I'd recommend in place of some he's cited; but still, his general point—that you need to read the major and minor classics—is correct.

The best piece of general advice I know, and not only about writing, comes from Dr. Johnson, The Rambler #63:

The traveller that resolutely follows a rough and winding path, will sooner reach the end of his journey, than he that is always changing his direction, and wastes the hours of day-light in looking for smoother ground and shorter passages.

I've known too many young writers over the years who sabotaged themselves by overthinking and therefore never finishing or sharing their projects; this stems, I assume, from a lack of self-trust or, more grandly, trust in the universe (the Muses, God, etc.). But what professors always tell Ph.D. students about dissertations is also true of novels, stories, poems, plays, comic books, screenplays, etc: There are only two kinds of dissertations—finished and unfinished. Relatedly, this is the age of online—an age when 20th-century institutions are collapsing, and 21st-century ones have not yet been invented. Unless you have serious connections in New York or Iowa, publish your work yourself and don't bother with the gatekeepers.

Other than the above, I find most writing advice useless because over-generalized or else stemming from arbitrary culture-specific or field-specific biases, e.g., Orwell's extremely English and extremely journalistic strictures, not necessarily germane to the non-English or non-journalistic writer. "Don't use adverbs," they always say. Why the hell shouldn't I? It's absurd. "Show, don't tell," they insist. Fine for the aforementioned Orwell and Hemingway, but irrelevant to Edith Wharton and Thomas Mann. Freytag's Pyramid? Spare me. Every new book is a leap in the dark. Your project may be singular; you may need to make your own map as your traverse the unexplored territory.

Hard truths? There's one. I know it's a hard truth because I hesitate even to type it. It will insult our faith in egalitarianism and the rewards of earnest labor. And yet, I suspect the hard truth is this: ineffables like inspiration and genius count for a lot. If they didn't, if application were all it took, then everybody would write works of genius all day long. But even the greatest geniuses usually only got the gift of one or two all-time great work. This doesn't have to be a counsel of despair, though: you can always try to place yourself wherever you think lightning is likeliest to strike. That's what I do, anyway. Good luck!

[minniepetals]

cry me a river | the unprepared

— summary: no one is ever prepared to be broken, even if they think they are, and breaking again and again does not make you numb to the pain

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 7.0k

— warnings: slight ptsd trigger

— PART 23 / previous post / masterpost

“Would you be able to send this letter to the address written on it? Personally?”

The girl you saved is named Ester, and without fail, people whose lives have been saved often feel indebted to their savior, so you know it would be right to have a little faith in her when you give her this task.

And as expected, she’s nodding without question and goes on her merry way.

It was the first thing you asked of her after all, because when you told her you had no need for the help she wanted to offer you with the injuries you sustained at the party along with wanting to help you feel comfortable in Alexander’s mansion, you could tell she was immediately angsty and in need of wanting to do anything you asked of her.

Nice girls like her often get taken advantage of.

Well, that’s none of your problem.

You take care of yourself with the treatment Ester provided for you, treating the cuts from where the bullets managed to wheeze past you, and bandaging yourself up before leaving the room provided for you.

Little Kiwi comes barking at your feet before you even reach the grand living room and despite not one to give or show affection, you pick the little thing up albeit reluctantly.

“Kid, isn’t it about time you head to sleep? And don’t lick me again, please, that’s quite rude.”

You hear a gentle chuckle from a familiar deep voice and finally walk into the living room to find both Alexander and Asher already there.

“Dogs don’t necessarily understand rudeness, though he listens to you quite well,” Alexander notes at the obedient puppy in your arms. He doesn’t wiggle around or bark and remains nestled where you hold him. When you take your seat on the sofa with a small space between you and Asher, the old man speaks again. “I heard you refused treatment from my people.”

You clear your throat awkwardly. “Forgive me, I’m not used to foreign touches.”

He knows you don’t mean “foreigners” per se and narrows his gaze slightly, possibly out of curiosity. “You have quite the skills, young lady, for having an unknown name.”

“My name is Y/N,” you tell him, sitting up. “I am a Reaper, the Grim Reaper of South Korea. My father passed away about a year ago, he was a good friend of your son Karl.”

“Karl.” He rubs his chin thinking about it. “So why have you come to Norway? To meet up with Karl?”

“Karl and I have never been that close, sir.” Of course not, you hate that man. Seeing his face alone will make you want to punch him but you know better than that. So keeping yourself calm, you look away to the side where the windows are, covered by pretty rose gold curtains. “I came here because I quite like the way the sun never sets during this time. It brings me peace.”

“You’re on vacation?” He raises a brow, doubtful, and looks toward Asher for confirmation but the man just shrugs without giving him an answer.

“You could say that,” you reply, and the old man clears his throat.

“It takes someone special to dodge all those bullets without managing any fatal injuries,” he returns to the topic of the matter as he leans back into his seat, an ankle propped onto a knee. “My son never mentioned someone like you, or his good friend.”

“The skills I acquired were not from my father, sir.”

“So you had a different master?”

“I was trained by a Yakuza master. He goes by the name Kitagawa Daisuke.”

Kitagawa Daisuke. Anyone who lives in the darkness knows the name. It’s almost like saying Shakespeare and an immediate ding pops into one's head. Your master is that famous in the underground world.

“No wonder..” Alexander looks at you with fascination now, a small crooked smile curling along his lips, eyes brightening. He knows not just anyone can call themself a disciple of Kitagawa Daisuke and it just further proves a point as to how dangerous the mission will be when you finally go up against your master. That is, if time will allow it. Who knows if you’ll even survive this mission.

You’re just dancing around with death at this point and he’s leading the moves.

“Now that you mention it, you have a sort of aura that you exude in the way I’ve seen with Master Kita. You live up to his name, no disciple of his would have let the enemies’ move confuse her.”

He must be talking about how you managed to recognize the motives of the enemies when you realize the focus was not on Alexander himself but his grandson, Asher Larsen. 

You give the man a small glance before looking down at the puppy who’s now slowly dozing off in your lap. You give him a small scratch behind the ear, doting on him a bit. Who would have thought even the enemies knew the life of a dog mattered more to Alexander than his own grandson.

So Asher was right when he said Alexander doesn’t have favorites, which means that if someone does manage to gain his favor, it wouldn’t just be in your favor but you’d have more eyes on your back more than before.

Sounds like a headache.

But it’s the only way you can get rid of Karl. Because if you gain Alexander’s favor, it’ll mean he won’t blink an eye when you tell him you want his own son dead.

“Master told me to always keep my senses heightened no matter the situation.”

He hums at the answer and in a way, you hope this little attention you’ve gained from Alexander is enough to gain a bit of his favor. They say Alexander doesn’t like people who deliberately kiss up someone’s shoes to get to where they want. He’s probably had enough of those people. He also likes people who have a backbone and knows how to protect themselves.

“How would you like to be my new caretaker for Kiwi?” The proposal Alexander gives has your head perked up his way, feeling a bit dumbfounded and surprised, but he continues before you can reject or accept the offer. “You’re here on vacation, aren’t you? I’m sure Kiwi would love to continue seeing you until it’s time for you to return home.”

Perhaps he knows a bit of your plan. Perhaps he doesn’t. Either way, he’s giving you a great opportunity to remain seen by his side.

“I know it may sound a lot asking a mafia boss but I quite like you, Miss Y/N.”

“No, it’s quite alright,” you shake your head lightly and look down at the now sleeping puppy in your lap before giving Alexander the answer. “I’d gladly accept.”

He smiles, satisfied, and when he leaves after taking the sleeping puppy from you, you’re left alone with Asher who had been silent the whole exchange between you and Alexander.

“I’m impressed, that was quite the feat. No one’s ever gotten this far this fast.” When you look at the man who’s finally speaking up, there’s a small curl up his lips when he looks your way, and you guess this man is usually stoic for the most part. How great you’re earning a bit of favor from both the grandfather and the grandson.

“I guess it’s just in my nature to have people join my side.” You give him a simple reply, one he does not refute, and the day ends with that.

You don’t get a wink of sleep at all staying there in that mansion and you know it’s because you’re in an unfamiliar place. You’ve never been good at adapting to something new. It took some time for you to settle into the Bangtan manor when you first moved there years ago, but unlike how it was there and back at your own manor, Alexander’s mansion gives you some sort of comfort you’ve never had before.

It’s probably the fact that night never comes. Your room has windows placed at a good spot, where the sun seems to shine through even though there are clouds blocking part of it. It isn’t as bright as it was when you first arrived at the airport but when it still lights up the sky around three am, you’re grateful for being here, in Norway.

Norway is pretty in a way Korea has never been and being here, despite the mission you’re on, gives you a sense of peace and calmness Korea has never given you. It’s a foreign country and yet something about it, something about the sun not being allowed to set and give way to the stars and moon, to the darkness, you have the urge to stay here if you could. Forever if possible.

But peace can never truly stay forever as long as you live this life.

You have people to go after, a revenge plot you’re on. Maybe when everything is over, if you manage to survive in the end and meet your last victim without dying, maybe then you can return here.

But first comes earning Alexander’s favor.

“You’re going to be in charge of taking care of his dog?” Hoseok’s face is a bit comical when you relay them the news once morning comes and you arrive back at the place Namjoon has provided for you. “Just what do you know about taking care of dogs?”

“Not much,” you admit as you scroll through your phone in hopes of learning, “but Alexander’s given me a bit of trust so I might as well take the opportunity. Ah, speaking of,” you put your phone down for a second, looking between the two Bangtan men, “don’t the two of you have some experience in taking care of dogs? You’ll teach me, then.”

It’s a request that comes out of nowhere, especially after just dropping the bomb on them, but it’s not like there’s anything else they can really do.

Namjoon sent them here in support for you and despite the awkward air around each of you, you’re one to ignore all signs and pretend everything is and has always been alright.

“Well an important part of a dog’s routine is taking walks,” Jungkook speaks up after being quiet for a while. His brows are slightly furrowed, thinking. “Mr. Larsen has actually given you quite the task.”

He’s right.

Taking a dog out on walks means being out in the open air where enemy eyes are everywhere. If last night proves that Kiwi serves more purpose to Alexander than his own grandson — and the enemies know that — then being the dog sitter isn’t just any mere maid’s job.

They have to be smart, agile, quick, and strong because they’re looking after what equals an heir.

You’re basically Kiwi’s bodyguard.

“Maybe this is his way of testing me.” It has to be. He couldn’t just have trusted a random stranger to take care of something that clearly means a lot to him. Though that begs the question as to why.

Is it because you mentioned Kitagawa as your master? He’s quite well known after all, and well respected at that.

Still, something’s a little weird.

But if you’re trying to get close to the old man, you might as well take advantage of this while not forgetting to remain cautious.

No one can ever be trusted fully. There is always an ulterior motive behind one’s action.

“I have a question, sir.” When you return to the manor a little later that day, the first person you go to is Alexander, who easily allows you into his proximity just minutes after you asked for his time. You thought initially it’d be a while until you get your reply, after all, he’s a Godfather who’s probably busy with all sorts of things, which is why it’s surprising the reply came so soon and was received well.

His butler didn’t lead you to an office, rather, you found yourself walking into a pretty greenhouse that sort of reminds you of the one back at home.

It’s massive in size though, that’s a difference, but you can clearly tell it’s being taken care of well in the way your Reapers takes care of your greenhouse.

“One moment, Miss Y/N.”

Alexander has his back turned to you when you find him towards a corner, with a water can in hand as he personally feeds the plants the amount of water needed with a serene expression on his face.

Kiwi, who had followed you when you were led by the butler, walks over to respectfully nuzzle against his master’s foot.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” The old man comments with a smile once he’s done watering the plants and places the can back in its place.

“It’s a surprise you’re able to keep them alive here,” you utter as you take another look around at the greens all around you. “I have one back in Korea, though my Reapers take care of them.”

Alexander takes a seat on a bench and Kiwi jumps over to lay on his lap. “Taking care of things personally brings me peace.”

“...Does it, now?” In a world where things are always chaotic, you suppose having somewhere to go to for peace is ideal. “I don’t have a greenhouse for personal taste though.”

“Do you grow poison?” He asks and there’s really no use lying.

���Amongst other things.”

He falls silent for a moment, a serene silence, and it’s strange the way he looks at you in a way no one’s ever done before. You’ve seen creepy old men before, met a couple of them personally against your will, but Alexander doesn’t remind you much of them. He stands out further, but in a way that isn’t bad at all and for some reason that brings you another sort of uncomfortable feeling you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. 

It’s strange and foreign, and perhaps he understands the effect he’s made on you because he lets out a light chuckle.

“I used to be just like you, little one.”

Your brows furrow at his words, confused. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, sir.”

“Always in a rush, never stopping to revel in the scenery.”

Because there’s no time for that. Time doesn’t wait for anyone and the enemies certainly don't. You’ve finally gained some sort of peace after your father’s death but even then, letting yourself go in order to be free from the chains isn’t exactly as easy as one may think.

You’re rushing because you want to reach peace, because you want a moment in time when things finally slows down and you’re okay with it, with the clocks existing, with the time ticking.

Peace doesn’t come to just anyone willingly.

“You’re anxious,” Alexander notes and perhaps you’re uncomfortable because he sees through a part of you that only people you allow in sees.

This is why you hate old people.

They can tell so easily because they’ve been through things.

“If I let time catch up on me, there will be nothing left in front of me.”

“Is that what you believe?” He asks, a hand running through Kiwi’s fur as the little dog begins to fall asleep. “What if what you want is already in front of you? Perhaps you just don’t want to face it because you’re afraid.”

Afraid?

Afraid of what?

But maybe he’s right. Maybe you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“You’re running away.”

Yes.

This man certainly does make you uncomfortable.

Not like the creeps, not like Leehyun, but not like Mister Butler either. Though in a way, there’s something familiar that you sense in him in the way you’ve felt with Mister Butler. As if he has a window to see through your soul.

But you’re sure not all old people know everything. They can only guess from what they’ve been given and seen.

You decide to keep your guard up.

“The question you wanted to ask,” perhaps he felt you trying to run from him so he changes the subject, “What was it?”

Right.

“When I take Kiwi out on walks, I’m sure you realize there may be people out there who will take advantage of those times. I don’t know the streets well and I don’t know who means well and who wants Kiwi dead. So I wanted to ask; the people that decide to come after me during Kiwi’s walk time, do you want them dead or alive when I bring them to you?”

So blunt and straight to the point, Alexander chuckles at that, amused.

“I’m sure a disciple of Master Kita will come to understand who poses a threat and who doesn't. I don’t care about the lives of those who want my little puppy dead. It doesn’t matter who they are, if they come after him, kill them. After all,” his eyes are gentle when he looks down at the puppy, though there’s a glint of danger that flashes in the light of his eyes, “only people with evil hearts will want to hurt an innocent puppy.”

Evil hearts. What a strange way to put it that way.

You get too curious not to ask; “Do you believe we aren’t evil? A little kid might subject us to the same category as them. We all kill after all. It doesn’t matter what, it doesn’t matter who. Killers are all evil in the eyes of some.”

He doesn’t think much on it when he answers your question. “In my eyes, many of us, like you and I, kill only for survival.” You and I, he says. “If an apocalypse were to happen, you’d kill a zombie for survival, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t just it bite you and you certainly wouldn’t let them bite someone you care for. You’d kill them. For survival.”

He looks up, eyes as clear as day. “This business we’re in…we’re in the same boat.”

Killing to survive.

Killing because there is no other choice.

You don’t think you’ve ever met a man like him who seems so sentimental on life as if a part of him is satisfied with what he’s gone through but he also holds some regret, things he knows beyond you, years he’s lived more than you, and has gained wisdom from all the experience.

No one from this business has ever looked in the same lens as he does on life and you hate it.

You hate how it makes you feel.

So you drop the subject and leave the greenhouse, feeling that creepy sense of goosebumps on your body as you go.

When Kiwi wakes from his nap a little after, he comes to find you and you take him out on the walk you promised him before that meeting with Alexander.

The walk is nice, the scenery different from that of Seoul, and the breath of fresh air it allows you to intake with a piece of mind helps you remain calm and collected. Kiwi walks beside you without a leash, his little feet taking you down the paths as if he’s done this a thousand times before, with his little nose curious at every little thing around him.

He doesn’t ever stray away and you guess perhaps even the little one understands the dangers of what it means to be himself. In all honesty, you prefer cats over dogs but you have to admit this isn’t so bad — well, being in Norway helps, you guess.

In Seoul, the streets wouldn’t forgive you for taking a walk so carefreely like this.

But of course, Norway has its own dangers. You are taking care of a prominent figure of a powerful mafia after all.

For the most part, you had been following Kiwi and letting him guide you where his nose leads him, but when the two of you come towards a lake where lies a bridge at the center, the little puppy suddenly stops in his tracks, sniffs the air, before retracing back to you.

Your brows furrow slightly when he steps up to your feet, hiding in between them, and when you hear a small noise out of the ordinary and look up with a calm gaze at the sudden new presence that has now surround the both of you, an exasperated sigh leaves you.

So much for peace and quiet.

“Hey lady, what’re you doing with that dog?” A man asks in Norwegian.

“Dog sitting,” you reply in English.

They look amongst one another, confusion plastered on their faces probably because they’ve never seen you around before and when Kiwi grinds his teeth and growls lowly at them, you put a foot closer to him, trying to ease the little puppy.

“What happened to the old sitter? Dead?” He speaks up again, a brow raised your way. Perhaps he’s testing your ability to understand him so when he speaks in his language, you continue replying in English with perfect understanding of one another.

“Not dead. I’m just a temporary sitter.”

“And who are you? I’ve never seen you around Alexander before.”

“Just a common girl.” You take a small step back seeing the way he reaches for something in his pockets.

“You should know that the streets are dangerous.”

A little chuckle leaves you. “I wouldn’t be trusted with Alexander’s dog if I didn’t know that, now would I? Still, that’s a very bad idea,” you beckon at the gun he pulls out. “You wouldn’t want to do that.”

The corner of his lip curls upwards as he brings his gun forward to his face, playing with it just as his friends start to close in on you. “And why not? Are you afraid, little common girl?”

“Afraid?” You tilt your head back, laughing. “No, no, it’s not me who should be afraid.” He sends you a furrow in his brows at the way you look so relaxed and so you go on. “Alexander has already given me permission to eliminate anyone who poses a threat, which means I don’t have to go easy on you or spare your lives.”

“Really?” He scoffs, taunting you. “One against seven, you really think a little girl like you can take us?”

“Oh no, I’m not talking about me, though you’d be surprised I can totally take you.”

“What?”

“You should learn to heighten your senses, old man, maybe then you’d realize we aren’t the only ones here.” With that signal, someone from the group has their neck slashed from behind and another one gets shot right in the head. 

One by one, they fall as you calmly pick up the scared little dog and stroke along his head to calm him down. He leans into your touch as the two of you ignore what’s happening around you, and once he finally seems alright again, you turn back to where Jungkook and Hoseok are standing, the enemies all dead on the ground.

You take one glance down at the dead bodies before checking the time on your watch. “I’ll inform Alexander and have his people clean this up,” you say as you reach for your phone. “Meanwhile, would one of you like to accompany me back to his mansion? Take on the role Taehyung took back at London?”

Jungkook comes along while Hoseok stays back and the walk back for the most part lies in silence.

Drama only occurs once you return to the mansion, hearing the sound of a familiar voice you haven’t heard in some time now. He shouts angrily you hear it through the halls and when you walk into the living room, you find Karl Larsen with three of his men behind him, reprimanding poor little Ester with Asher standing off to the side, looking bored and exasperated of his uncle.

No one stops him.

“Are you that incompetent? Just how useless are you that my father has to choose a stranger to take over your job? I told you to keep an eye on that mutt and you can’t even do that?”

Huh. Who would have thought Ester was actually Karl’s servant who had been assigned to look over Kiwi before you came in to take over temporarily? Though from the looks of it, when she cowers in fear under his demands, her head lowered, eyes tightly shut, shoulders trembling slightly, she doesn’t like this man so much.

Who does after all?

But she did look a lot more carefree living in this manor, looking after Kiwi under Alexander’s commands. Alexander isn’t known to bring just anyone in to work for him, which means Ester managed to gain his trust. He’s good at knowing who to trust, he wouldn’t just be easily swayed by his own blood’s opinions, so if given the chance, you believe that Ester wouldn’t hesitate to betray Karl.

She’s a sweet girl, you don’t doubt that.

Asher on the other hand, you aren’t too sure if a man like him deserves the benefit of the doubt.

He senses your presence though, unlike Karl and his men, and when he looks up to meet your eyes from the entryway of the living room, he stands up a little more straight, a small curl turning upwards upon the corner of his lips.

Maybe he’s just bored with petty family affairs and has no say in what his uncle wants or does. Family positions are important in the mafia after all.

“Where is she? The new girl?” Karl’s voice snaps back, his eyes bulging and you step towards them despite Jungkook’s caution, knowing the signs of that man. “Bring her to me now, you useless—”

His hand raises in the air and before it can come down at the young girl’s head, you grab his wrist mid-air with your left hand, stopping him successfully. “If you’re really that upset about the change, why don’t you bring it up to your father, spoiled old man?”

His brows furrow tightly when he looks your way initially, before his expression begins to cool and soften when he realizes just who it is that dared to stop him from punishing his subordinate. The strength of his arm weakens and he brings it back to his side, fixing the cuff of his suit, while a smirk plays on his lips as he keeps his gaze on you.

“Y/N,” the way he says your name makes you want to vomit and though for a second looking at that familiar, disgusting smirk on his face causes your mind to want to resurface the memories of all the things he’s done, you keep them back in, focusing on other things to not trigger it. “Look at you, you’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you. What are you doing here in Norway? Came to pay me a visit?”

He doesn’t know what happened to your father, you realize through those words, which is a bit surprising because of how close the two of them were, but then again, after the wipe of your father and his people, it kind of makes sense Karl never got word of your father’s death.

Both Asher and Jungkook are confused about the way Karl is acting so friendly and close to you, as well as the way he just naturally turns his attention from being angry at Ester to invite you to take a seat.

You follow him and settle Kiwi in your lap and see the way he glances at the puppy, a slight bitterness contouring his features before it disappears all too quickly.

He doesn’t like Kiwi, that much is clear, and with the way he addresses you, you can tell this man still thinks you of the naive little girl who would submit to just anyone without fighting back.

“Your words are a lot sharper than they used to be,” he notes, remembering the way you spoke to him. “Seems you’re finally growing into the woman that your father trained you to be.”

With a hand stroking the fur of Kiwi’s, you take a look at his three men. One of them is someone you recognize, the other two are completely new faces.

“Tell me then, how have you been since I left Seoul?”

One year, he came and left — not even one year but a summer, four months — and that was all it took for him to do all the things he’d done.

“I have news to give you, sir,” you say and he tsks at you.

“Come on now, call me what you used to call me. We were close, weren’t we? Don’t treat me like a stranger now, Y/N.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder and you bite your tongue back, resisting the urge to run from his touch. So with a tight grin, you give him the news he’s been needing to catch up on. “I am the Grim Reaper now..uncle.”

That amused expression on his face falls slightly, masked with surprise and confusion, and he takes one look at Jungkook who stands guard behind you, before returning his gaze back on you, flabbergasted.

“Your father’s dead?” He breathes, not believing it. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? How’d he die?”

Telling him the truth now would lead to an outburst from him and you can’t have Jungkook seeing that. Karl is a madman and if he knows of the truth here before strangers outside his and your people, he will definitely forget about the way your true relationship with your father is supposed to be kept a secret from the public.

“I apologize, uncle, preparations for his funeral and my succession took longer than expected.” Jungkook knows those words aren’t true but thankfully he knows to keep quiet.

“I could have helped,” Karl insists and you give him a pressed smile.

It’s strange the way he can’t comprehend just why the daughter of his friend whom he’s hurt many times did not want him involved in her family affairs, but you guess the minds of psychopaths are just like that. They can understand human emotions but they cannot feel them, and so they cannot emphasize with others.

“Do you not remember all the things you’ve done to me?” You want to ask him. “Do you not recall what you and father had done? Why would I want your help?” But you bite your tongue back just as Kiwi stirs from your touch, probably sensing a change in you.

The more you face the people who have done you wrong, the harder it is to keep the facade, you realize. Namjoon once said to stop before it all breaks you and you told him broken things cannot be broken even more but perhaps they can.

They can.

You’ve reached your breaking point before, not just once or twice, and yet it seems the world has just proven to you that glass can keep shattering and shattering until there is nothing left but dust.

Are you prepared to turn into dust?

You are. You’ve said it before.

“A broken glass can never mend itself to the way it used to be, the only thing it can do is break even more.”

You were prepared, your body was, but is your mind prepared? Will your mind ever be prepared?

No one is ever prepared to be broken, even if they think they are, and breaking again and again does not make you numb to the pain.

Kiwi whimpers on your lap, his head nuzzling into the palm of your hand when you stop stroking him. They say that dogs can smell human emotions and in turn, adopt them as their own, and hearing the distress whimpers, you try to return to Karl and give him a reply and yet nothing happens. You can’t even open your mouth to speak. You feel frozen on the spot.

Why now? Why now, whynow, whynow,whynowwhynow?

Footsteps are heard upon the silence of the room. “What’s making my Kiwi sound like that?” A low rumble demands an answer but you remain still, unable to move.

You feel paralyzed.

Kiwi looks up at his master’s voice for a second before going back to nuzzle against you and lend you his warmth, and while the people in the room stand up straight at his presence, Karl even going up to greet his father, you remain planted on the sofa.

Alexander ignores Karl to walk over to where his puppy is. He takes a glance your way, with Asher confused and Jungkook concerned and a little panicked because of the state you’re in, but rather than making this a big deal and reprimanding you for causing his puppy to sound the way he does, Alexander instead remains calm.

“Come here, Kiwi,” he calls, and though the pup hesitates at first, looking between you and his master, he eventually jumps up and into Alexander’s arms. “Karl, I’ll deal with you later. Right now I’m too busy to entertain guests.”

Though Karl looks like he wants to protest at first, he nods in reply, knowing he cannot talk back to his father. You were hoping he’d just leave it at that and go ahead with his men but for some reason, he just has to turn to you.

“My deepest condolences, Y/N. Let’s have tea to catch up next time, yeah?” Unable to grasp the situation, he reaches out to place a hand on your cheek, a smile on his face, before he arches his back straight again to bid Alexander goodbye.

In that moment, you stand, though it’s only because staying on that couch feels disgusting now having to sit still and do nothing when he reached out to touch you. You hate the touch, it burns you, but you remain silent when you stand a little behind Alexander, nodding Karl goodbye, and only once he leaves does the room feel a little easier to breathe in.

Just a little.

.

.

.

“Should I call Mingyu?” Jungkook asks when you return to the room Alexander prepared for you that first night you met him. He watches you with keen eyes and observance as you walk further into the room, away from the door, eyes still refusing to look anyone in the eyes, silent with a blank expression. “Or..should I leave the room?”

You don’t give him an answer but you’re thinking.

How far is it from here to the manor Namjoon prepared for you? A couple of minutes away by vehicle, which means it wouldn’t be that difficult for him to come here. But him coming here would mean a hassle because then you’d have to let the people here know that Mingyu’s one of yours and you don’t feel like interacting with anyone right now. A letter in your handwriting wouldn’t suffice either because they don’t know your handwriting.

You could honestly call Ester and describe Mingyu’s face to tell her he’s with you but that would mean interacting.

Jungkook could leave the room and yet the thought of him leaving gives a small dread in the pits of your stomach because you hate being alone and left in an unfamiliar place and right now he’s the only thing that’s familiar to you.

Familiar.

How funny that this familiar person left you to fend for yourself and gave you his cold shoulders when you needed him most.

And yet there’s no other choice.

So just like back in London when you familiarized yourself with Seokjin’s warmth and kindness for that split second, you turn around to face Jungkook.

He stands far from you, having not moved from the door since the two of you walked in, and a part of you hates that despite what he’s done to you, you know Jungkook is a man with natural kindness and would never do anything that would harm you on purpose. You see it in the way he keeps his distance, in the two questions he asked, how he doesn’t try to approach you, that unlike Karl who doesn’t know how to take a hint, he understands your fear of being touched by men even though you did allow Yoongi to hold you and poked Seokjin slightly on the shoulder.

He respects your boundaries. He always had, he always did.

So why did it have to end with him giving you the cold shoulders and pretending he hated you? Why did things have to turn out the way it did?

You’re so tired. Tired of everything.

“Come here,” you call for him, and you hate how even when you give him permission to come close, he still hesitates, concerned for the state of your mind.

When he approaches, his steps are slow, and once he’s inches away from you, you hold out the palm of your hand.

“I want you to help me with something,” you say, “you don’t have to do much, just..stay still and…and give me your hand.”

His brows are knitted, eyes staring down at your palm as if this isn’t a good idea. “I’m sorry,” he tells you, feeling conflicted. “Hoseok should have been here, we should have switched places. He would’ve been a better choice in—”

“I know Hoseok would have been the better choice but we can’t turn back time now can we?!” Your patience is starting to wear thin and when he flinches a little at the way you raise your voice, your own eyes widen at what you’d just done. Shocked at how easy it was to lose control, and when you begin to spiral out of fear for raising your voice at him, you put your hands in your hair, trembling.

“I’m sorry, please just…just help me, Jungkook. You have to replace what he did. I hate it, I hate his touch, and right now I’d rather feel your touch than his so please…please?” You look up at him, not caring that you’re pleading and looking desperate.

When he sees it, sees the way your eyes gloss over with a glaze of water, at your panicked tone and your begging for his help, he gives you his hand.

You take it and press his palm onto your cheek, over that burning feeling from where Karl touched you, and the peace that you yearned for doesn’t come right away. You struggle for a bit and your legs almost give in from the weakness but Jungkook’s right there to hold you up and bring you over to the bed so that you don’t have to rely on your legs. 

He remains standing before you, watching as you rest your eyes while keeping his hand pressed to your skin.

It takes some time for the storm to wash away and for the calm to walk over but it comes, eventually, and when it does come, it isn’t in the way it is with Mingyu. Jungkook doesn’t give you the sort of calm that your second in command gives you, though you expected it because no one can replace Mingyu’s warmth.

The sort of calm Jungkook gives you follows with pain and grief over what had been lost all those years ago.

His warmth, his presence, his puppy-like self following you around, willing to do anything and everything for you. He’d always been such a quiet man who follows the rules well, who does everything with great effort, who is sometimes too naive and gets roped up in Jimin’s antics and gets scolded for things he didn’t do.

Always there to lend you his jacket when you shivered in the slightest way, always there to protect you from anyone that bothered you, noticing the smallest things, and though you relied on him for a lot of things, he relied on you in turn as well.

You understood him in ways the others couldn’t, the two of you in love like those two innocent little kids who were finding out what it meant to love someone for the first time. Soft and gentle, a bit awkward and clumsy.

“They didn’t have the drink that you like but I got you…” He walks back with a hand holding onto a glass of something for you to drink, but in the middle of his sentence, Jungkook’s expression falls. “...Something happened.”

Immediately, he’s shifting his head around to try and find who it was that approached you tonight but before he can get too far, you’re grabbing ahold of his arm and pulling his attention back on you. 

“It…nothing happened,” you insist with a bit of panic on your expression, afraid of what Jungkook might do out in public like this, all the while trying to see if you can catch of glimpse of Namjoon anywhere on the floor. Thankfully he isn’t around, otherwise he’d be able to also tell something was wrong with one look your way.

There are days when hiding your emotions are easy and there are other days when it’s a little more difficult. Like on the days when people make you uncomfortable and you just can’t seem to hide it well. Those days are hard.

And Jungkook, who looks back at you, clearly doesn’t buy your little protest. “Y/N, I need you to just point out—”

“Please.” You squeeze his biceps, holding yourself close to him, pleading with your eyes as you look up at him, and Jungkook immediately recognizes just what those eyes are trying to tell him;

‘Don’t leave me alone.’

You’re frightened, he realizes, and after a small look around the room to check his surrounding, he brings you in close to him and keeps you by his side as he takes your hand and brings you around to an empty space where the two of you can be left alone together.

“Is there anything you need?” Is the first thing he asks you as he sits you down on a seat in the empty room, but you simply shake your head and squeeze his hand tight.

“Just you,” you say in a quiet voice, and Jungkook stays with you that night without ever leaving your side, all the while you simply hold onto the touch of his hand, the feel of it a comfort unlike any other.

His touch reminds you of those memories, of the past and the tears and the smiles, and though you hate the pain that it resurfaces, you’d rather revel in this pain than the pain of remembering the memories with Karl.

[writers-potion]

Writing Introverted Characters

If you're creating an introverted character and you're not familiar with the complexities of this trait, take the time to learn about it. - Claire Alexander

Why You Should Write Introverted Characters

Since stories are about action, it is easier to write a page-turner about action-oriented people. It can be difficult to write introverted characters - so why should you do it?

First of all, all the introverts of this world would be able to relate!

Introverted characters offer depth of character and are case studies for inner struggles.

Think of Jane Eyre, Mr. Darcy, Edward Cullen - well written introverts can turn shallow angst into desperate yearning that will have your readers swooning by Chapter Two.

Introverted characters' minds can be a thrilling minefield, feeling their emotions and thought so deeply that the reader gets chills just by seeing the world through their POV.

Make It a Strength, Not a Weakness

Introverted characters may not dazzle others or have lots of friends, but it also means they can be more compassionate, intelligent and sensitive.

Take Mr. Darcy for example - the twist that comes from him being thought of as an arrogant, aloof character to being the kindest, considerate man gives the romance in Pride and Prejudice so much more angst and satisfaction when everything works out.

Don't Succumb to Stereotypes

Introverts are quiet and needs alone time to recharge their social energy, not just shy/rude/has a general dislike for humanity.

They're watching body language, tone of voice, and reactions of others, cataloging them and tucking them away for future use.

If they have valuable things to say, they will keep their thoughts (for now), then join the conversation with more confidence if they feel convicted about a topic.

Your introvert can love spending time with their friends. They can prefer socializing one-to-one or in small groups.

Give Them a Retreat, Not a Cave

Introverts need a special place where they can find sanctuary from the overwhelming.

They need an escape to recharge and get through their day, not isolate themselves from the world on weeks on end. If your character does this, he is not just introverted, he may as well be severely depressed.

Give Them Motivation

Being introverted does NOT equal to being lazy or demotivated.

Introverted characters actively explore their inner worlds and may even be more motivated than others to find order and logic in their life.

As Jane Eyre tells us: "I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself." She is a passionate and strong-willed character because of this, giving the novel action and tension.

Let Them Be Awkward, Not Rude

Introverted characters won't know how to act natural around new people and fail to react when someone cracks a joke.

Let your introverted character feel claustrophobic in social gatherings and react negatively to small talk.

HOWEVER, not knowing what to say does not equal to cutting everyone's lines and frowning throughout a cheerful conversation. In fact, introverts would try extra hard to "fit in", laughing when others do (even though they don't get it) and dying inside about how awkward they sound, even to themselves.

Show The Chaos of Their Mind

Introverted thinkers in particular would overthink and spend vast amounts of time organizing and brainstorming thoughts.

They jump from thought to thought and latch on little things they notice in everyday life to imagine a host of loosely related things.

Does your introvert have a close friend they trust? Let them rant about their internal conversation to the other person (with whom they feel comfortable).

Research!! + other tips

Let them express themselves creatively through various hobbies: journaling, dry painting their bedroom, coloring books, or painting. Plaster their mirrors with sticky notes, make them knit, glass blow or garden their backyard.

Pay attention to their learning style. Many introverts learn best through reading, while being good listeners. They'll research about their interest through online sources, horded magazines, or at the local bookstore/coffee shop. Make them an expert in their field.

Show how they are underestimated. Because they keep to themselves, they are often underestimated. As an introvert myself, introverts are often underestimated in personal relationships (like friends or family) rather than professionally (although this is credible too) because they aren't particularly funny or outwardly supportive. But introverts can be emotionally supportive - they will be missed.

Not all introverts project each of these traits. Introverted Thinkers (Katniss) approach problems from a much differnt perspective than Introverted Feelers (Edward).

Make them sarcastic, cynical and argumentive. I love writing abotu introverts with a sharp tongue, especially when they're talking about a subject they know a lot about. They may also have a sharp tongue as a defense mechanism.

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If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

References:

https://www.blueridgeconference.com/ten-tips-for-writing-introverted-characters/

https://susancain.net/writing-introverted-character-hard-must-anyway/

[alfredsolos]

I just realized that the reason why I (and all of you) hate how Morrison characterized Damian (other than his racism), in a story wise perspective. And in contrast to that why we prefer Tomasi's version.

It's because the Morisson! Damian and Tomasi! Damian have 2 different backstories.

And it's all connected to Talia.

To go into nore detail:

Morisson! Damian was raised by maids and trainers and would rarely see his mother. He officially met her when he was 8.

So he never got a taste of parental or maternal love. For years he woke up to the cold faces of strangers that felt no compassion towards him. That's why he was so cold and standoffish. He didn't know what 'love' was supposed to mean.

And even after Damian goes to live with Bruce (who does not like him), Talia is written to be a horrible parent. A good example of this: When Damian got his spine replaced by a metal one, Talia hid a remote control in the spine which she could control his body through it. And then she gave the remote control to Slade, who used Damian's body to try and kill Dick.

Now let's talk about Tomasi's version.

Tomasi! Damian was raised alongside Talia. She would tell him stories of Alexander the Great, teach him how to fight, actually show compassion to him, compliment him, gift him Ra's sword etc. Of course, raising Damian in the League is not the preferable way but it's still a lot better than his other version.

And we can witness how involved she was with this:

In his every birthday, she fights him so that Damian can learn the identity of his father. And this is proof that she was with him a lot of times. Maybe on his every single birthday.

And with them being close, he was more attached to the League. He even referred to the League's Shadows as his 'brothers'.

So that's why this version of Damian is more emotional, instead of being cold and distant.

And I think these two versions are almost seperate from each other. Looking at the examples I showed you, maybe you can agree with me too.

[mywritingonlyfans]

Alexander Turner's Masterlist :)

Here's a link to some quick blurbs you might like!!!

...

LongShot (4,6K) - You always have the urge (fate, honestly) to meet Alex from time to time in the midst of moments in your life, but you never stay close to each other for a long time, after all, he is not your boyfriend. (SMUT)

The Car album is about you (3,4K) - You and Alex split up but he dedicates the whole new album to you. (ANGST/FLUFF)

'Till you relax me (2,8K) - Alex eating you out until he doesn't feel stressed anymore because it relaxes him. (SMUT)

Straps and fun (1,3K) - It's a pegging Alex fic. (SMUT)

Cozy Moments (622) - Sharing quality time with Alex. (FLUFF)

Too busy being yours (1,1K) - You feel uncomfortable with the amount of people who keep hitting on Alex, and even with you trusting him, Alex decides to kiss at one of the parties, even though you are super shy, so you can mark territory. (FLUFF)

Home (1,1K) - Taking care of Alex after time withoout seeing him. (SMUT/FLUFF)

Suck and see it (8,5K) - Alex is in a honeymoon phase of dating someone (you) who is out of his league. Moments together and him realizing how much you love each other, from him going to a famous college sports game just to watch you dance, car trips together, and you meeting the boys and going to a small concert at the band for the first time. (FLUFF/SMUT)

Period pain (873) - Alex taking care of you while you're in your period. (FLUFF)

Shared Hearts (5,3K) - It's your wedding and during the description of the event, some moments that you lived together that led to the decision of the wedding itself were written. (FLUFF)

Ethereal Night (2,5K) - Face fucking with Alex fic, so that's all. And yes, it is after a band show and after watching him beautifully on stage and about him wasting his tension and energy down on you. (SMUT)

In his Touch (4K) - First time with a innocent and young reader. (SMUT)

Alex's love language (1,5K) - You're going through hell at work and Alex tries to make things easier for you. + how you handle arguments. (FLUFF)

Freshness Part 1 of 2 (6,9K) Part 2 of 2 (8,4K) -You're in your first years of college and you are interning in something related to the band while they're in a small tour. You get Alex's attention in the process and things develop into much more than just leering exchanges. AGE GAP FIC. (SMUT)

Daddy's girl (1,4K) - A dad to daughter heart to heart convo. His kid is feeling insecure and he's helping her with that. (FLUFF)

Heartstrings / Single!Dad Alex (3,7K) - Bonus! Alex giving Bella meds. - Reader getting to know Alex's daughter for the first time. also, her letting it slip that Alex loves you before he tells you that properly. (FLUFF)

Your girl (3K) - Alex feeling a little insecure about being right for Reader and your assuring him. (SMUT)

Bearded Alex (2K) - Sitting on Alex face. (Smut)

Teacher's pet Part 1 of 3 (9.3K) Part 2 of 3 (9K) Part 3 of 3 ( ) - (Age Gap/Smut) Alex, an undergraduate professor, wasn't known for his friendliness until he found himself gradually warming up to you. Your remarkable writing skills, particularly directed at his class, heightened his interest even further. He's determined to show you firsthand just how talented you are, even if the journey is challenging. Eventually, both of you realize that resisting this connection is futile, and you must let go of your inhibitions to explore what lies ahead.

Your boy (3,1K) - Reader feels briefly insecure and Alex is there to listen to you. (SMUT)

Ecstasy (3,7K) - Wax play, a bit of breeding kink and Alex on control. You like the idea of the burning pain and Alex is ready and can't stop thinking of it. This was shamefully inspired by this wonderful fic! by @/neoyongz (SMUT)

Sunlit Serenade (1,7K) - It's literally something about having (intimate!) sex on a private beach. (SMUT)

Stitches (1,7K) - You as a young med giving stitches to a cute rockstar. (FLUFF)

Nurturing love (4,5K) - Taking care of Alex while he's with laryngitis, spending time together, there's one marriage proposal and cute talks and reader watching glasto with the other gfs.

[melrosing]

MBO Robert's Rebellion: Episode 10

sorry for the accidental seven month hiatus 2023 has been foul but we are back. rounding off “season 1” with Harrenhal, then I’m gonna take some time to finish mapping out what the second half of the series looks like. but have done most of that already so shouldn’t be too long?? (famous last words)

btw this one feels like the longest I’ve written so let’s just imagine it’s a movie length finale or something idk

SEASON ONE: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5, Episode 6, Episode 7, Episode 8, Episode 9

SEASON TWO: Episode 1

title for this one: watch this age like milk when the harrenhal play reaches the stage

We find a slight, almost sickly looking young man in a green cloak, stepping delicately around the roots of a woodland - he looks a bit lost. Suddenly the sound of hooves as a young girl races through the trees crying with laughter, followed shortly by her three brothers, all ahorse. Seeing the young man on foot, the girl circles back and asks if he’s looking for the tourney of Harrenhal; the young man says that he is, but he’s lost his way. Brandon Stark, joining them, notes that this is Howland Reed, of a house sworn to House Stark - he should join their train. On cue the vast Stark train emerges through the trees

Panning through the trees, we now overlook a valley in which vast numbers can be seen travelling towards an immense castle in the distance. Howland how the fuck did you miss that 

Opening creds

Aerys in his covered litter, travels through the gates of Harrenhal; Varys sits opposite him, watching passersby with interest. They hadn’t thought he’d come, Aerys tells Varys, but Rhaegar isn’t king yet, so why should he take the limelight etc. Varys agrees, noting it’s conspicuous that Lord Whent should have such vast sums as to host a tourney such as this - and leaves the rest to Aerys’ imagination. Varys then notes the absence of Tywin Lannister, who spurned the tourney that would invest Jaime into the Kingsguard; Aerys notes he has his eye on Tywin, too

Aerys steps out of his litter to applause from the assembled lords and ladies. He scrutinises them all. Rhaegar emerges shortly afterwards on horseback, and the cheers are twice as loud. Behind him, Ser Lewyn Martell helps Elia from a litter, shortly joined by Rhaegar; Rhaegar enquires after Elia first, then the baby - she is with child again, but it seems to be taking a toll. Oberyn Martell rides up to scowl at Rhaegar and take his sister’s arm

In Lyanna’s room at Harrenhal, where we find her elbowing Benjen out the door. As soon as she’s alone, she pulls a chest from under her bed, opening it to reveal a sword and armour. She picks up the helmet and considers it

A feast @ Harrenhal. Elia has taken to bed after her travels, so Rhaegar attends alone. He’s got his harp out again and sings a sad, slow song (does he know any others lol). Lyanna, sat at a nearby bench, weeps to hear it - it seems to strike her more than anyone in the room, though even she seems unsure why. Rhaegar looks up and meets her eyes. Just as they do so, Benjen Stark starts cackling at Lyanna’s tears, and Lyanna upends a flagon over his head

DANCING 🕺🏼 💃🏻 Ashara Dayne sits talking to her brother Arthur, whilst Ned looks on wistfully. Refusing Brandon’s urges to ask her to dance, Brandon decides to ask Ashara on his behalf and some spark passes between them etc etc it’s like that scene from Hamilton in which Ashara Dayne is founding father Alexander Hamilton. from now on please picture Lin Manuel Miranda as Ashara Dayne

Ashara, smiling at Brandon’s request, agrees to dance with Ned, and talks sweetly to him as they turn about the floor; however, it does not escape Ned that Ashara’s gaze often fixes on Brandon :/

Aerys with Barristan Selmy, watching the floor. He asks Barristan what he thinks of Jaime Lannister, soon to be a brother of the Kingsguard. Barristan thinks Jaime’s too young and naïve for such duty - and this boy does not look to him like a young Tywin Lannister. Unfortunately that was exactly what Aerys wanted to hear so you fucked that up Barry

Meanwhile, Elia sits with her brother Oberyn, unable to manage much food. Oberyn, worried, says he’ll fetch Rhaegar. Elia says there’s little point: the prince is always so distracted of late, hardly seems to see what’s right in front of him. Oberyn looks furious, and Elia, regretting she said anything, says there’s little and less she wants of Rhaegar - he plays for Rhaenys sometimes, but he’s no comfort to her, and she suspects she’s little to him. Whatever is going through that guy’s head, Elia can never coax him to share it. Elia tells Oberyn that he, on the other hand, is plenty of comfort to her, and should tell her something to make her laugh

Jaime gets his main character moment; Aerys summons him to the front of the hall. Jaime has accumulated some misgivings about this whole venture in recent weeks, but they fall away as he approaches the Kingsguard. Arthur Dayne watches on, expression inscrutable. Gerold Hightower swears Jaime in, and there’s a big ole cheer: Jaime beams, and for a moment he feels like a hero. Aerys beams as well until the crowd starts chanting ‘the young lion’. Well shit he’s just invested Tywin Lannister’s son hasn’t he. Aerys exits the hall and gnawing at his fucked up fingernails with Varys watching on

Drinking outside Harrenhal; Howland Reed is wandering about trying to find a meal. Three squires approach him angling for a fight, and begin to deliver blows when Howland won’t rise to the occasion. THEN! The Starks arrive led by Lyanna, who tackles the squires herself. The squires flee and Lyanna declares that Howland should stay in their quarters

Meanwhile, the King summons Jaime. Jaime arrives looking buzzed from all the attention and adulation, but Aerys looks less than pleased. Aerys asks Jaime to swear again he would die for his king, will he always obey? Jaime, perturbed, agrees he would. Aerys looks unconvinced, and after a moment, orders Jaime to King’s Landing to watch over Rhaella and Viserys. Jaime attempts to argue, but Aerys demands again that Jaime swear he would always obey. Jaime is forced to swear again, and abandon the tourney. Aerys tells Ser Gerold Hightower he doesn’t like the look of insolence in the boy’s eyes. Ser Gerold says he’s only a kid, and anyway he’d be happy to trade places with Jaime?? Aerys declines, wishes to teach Tywin Lannister’s son the humility his father never knew

In the Starks’ quarters with Howland. Lyanna inexpertly wraps a bandage about Howland’s injured arm; Benjen tells her she’s doing a shit job, Lyanna challenges him to do better. Brandon tells Howland he ought to learn to defend himself, and Lyanna tells him not everyone can - that’s what knights are for. Brandon tells Howland that Lyanna fancies herself a knight: Ned adds she might be better at swordplay than Brandon himself. Brandon seems surprised at this minor insolence from Ned of all people. Ofc, Ned is still smarting at what he saw between Brandon and Ashara

Jaime Lannister riding alone down the dark Kingsroad, looking more like a hedge knight than a member of the kingsguard. Reduced to angry tears, he shouts out into the dark in rage

NEXT MORNING! Tourney scenes!! Like that S1E1 joust scene from HOTD except without the ridiculous levels of gore lmao. We find Robert in the stands, still flushed from his own jousts, sat beside the Stark men. Robert has his Estermont cousin on his other arm, but asks Ned where he might find Lyanna. Ned says they’ve not seen their sister since the night before. Robert says they ought to keep an eye on his betrothed with so many men about; Richard Lonmouth, Robert’s drinking partner (yeah I forgot this guy existed too), leans over to suggest it’s Brandon they might keep an eye on instead - word’s got around he’d been wandering about the castle last night… Ned looks to Brandon, and Brandon won’t look back

Suddenly, some murmuring: a mystery knight has arrived!! Their armour is mismatched, sporting a weirwood tree, and they’re on the short side: a few laughs. Ned chews his lip - we can see right away that he knows who this is, and now we know too. Tense moment as the Knight of the Laughing Tree jousts, surprise (and Ned’s sheer relief) as they win almost effortlessly. Richard Lonmouth says he’ll place a bet on the Knight of the Laughing Tree’s next joust, Robert decides to bet against him 

Some kind of montage of the KOTLT’s various jousts. At one point, they’re almost knocked from their horse, and they cry out. Ned jolts in panic, and Rhaegar’s head swings up - has he clocked who this is as well??? KOTLT recovers, and wins the joust. Aerys looking on, perturbed - has Tywin’s son returned is mismatched armour to spite him? Ser Gerold is sure that Ser Jaime is taller, but Aerys is already full on pizzagate on this notion, wants to seize KOTLT. Varys, at his side, advises he does not - look how pleased everyone is by this mystery knight. Not great PR for the crown to just grab the guy

Final joust. The Knight of the Laughing Tree demands to joust one of the champions of the previous day, i.e. one of Howland’s tormentors. Suitable tension etc, and the KOTLT wins comfortably. Robert groans, now deep in debt to Richard Lonmouth. The commons doing some kind of Masked Singer chant for the KOTLT to de-mask. Robert is descending the steps insisting he’ll do it himself. Ned panics, trying to grab his arm, when suddenly!!! Rhaegar stands up in the royal box (or whatever idk) to say something about tonight’s feast or whatever, and amidst the distraction, the KOTLT darts off behind the stands

It’s night. Lyanna has ridden into the woods, and removes the last of her KOTLT armour beneath the trees, grinning to herself. Then: cliché twig snap in the background someone’s followed her oh no!! Lyanna draws her sword - whoever it is has seen how she can fight, so she advises they don’t try her. Rhaegar emerges, and agrees that he has - though he’d be eager to see if they were a match for one another some other day. He notes that she’s the Stark girl; Lyanna says she’s not. Rhaegar laughs - it’s the first time we’ve seen him do so. Lyanna frowns and says she knows who he is. Rhaegar says he supposes no introductions are necessary then

Back at Harrenhal: another fuckin dance. Robert wants to ask Lyanna for a dance, but Ned has no idea where she is - he’s worried now, and suggests to Brandon they ought to go look for her. Brandon seems to be searching for someone else, agrees he’ll come look for Lyanna later. Meanwhile, Aerys is looking for his goddamn son where is that freaky kid. Robert meanwhile grabs at a serving woman

Back with Lyanna and Rhaegar. Lyanna wants to know why Rhaegar followed her. Rhaegar says she heard his song. Lyanna says everyone heard his stupid song. Rhaegar says no, you heard it. Lyanna like right ok whatever that’s supposed to mean. But she’s intrigued. She changes the subject, says she understands he fights well - why don’t they test each other now? Rhaegar tells her he didn’t bring a sword. Lyanna says that was stupid. Long look between them, sizing each other up

Quiet scenes over Harrenhal….. cut to Brandon and Ned in the halls of the Stark quarters preparing to raise the alarm for their missing sister. Perfect timing, Lyanna’s back whey. Brandon demands to know where she’s been. Lyanna says walking. Brandon scolds her, reminding her that a young woman should not be wandering in the dark unaccounted for!! Lyanna counters ‘and supposedly it’s fine for you to do the same?’, storms off to her room. oooo

Rhaegar returns to his room with Elia. She has not slept, and sits at the window reading. She does not ask him where he’s been. After a long period of silence, Rhaegar asks if she is well, and Elia answers monotonously that she is fine. Rhaegar asks after the child. Elia doesn't answer

FOLLOWING AFTERNOON: final joust!! Rhaegar jousts Arthur Dayne, and it’s suitably tense. Imagine a joust in ur head i’m not gonna write it. Ashara Dayne has joined the Starks in the stands, and cries for her brother’s victory. Brandon laughs and drinks to that. Lyanna looks tense, and Ned looks at her questioningly. Ofc Rhaegar ultimately wins, and Lyanna jumps for joy. Benjen tries to rib her, but she’s not paying attention this time. Applause is deafening all around them

Aerys spitting in the stands. This tourney was Rhaegar’s idea, he knows it, he’ll get to the bottom of it etc - no-one is listening.

Rhaegar is named the winner back on the ground to great applause, and is presented with a crown for his Queen of Love & Beauty. He stares at it for a long moment, like he’s unsure what to do w it

We find Elia in the stands, waiting for Rhaegar to turn to her with the crown. But Rhaegar seems to be searching the stands for someone else. Confused, Elia rises shakily to her feet to draw his attention (surely he knows where to find her).... just as Rhaegar finds the Stark girl in the audience. The crowd’s cheers go quiet, and Oberyn rises to stand beside Elia. Men have risen around Lyanna as well, daring Rhaegar to do what he seems about to

Rhaegar offers Lyanna the crown on the point of his joust, and Lyanna, looking flabbergasted, takes it in her hands

season one done we did it joe

[morlock-holmes]

The Last Psychiatrist's book came out, which led me to two reviews, both of which call him out for saying stuff that is obviously crazy but both of which also contain incredibly bizarre statements just tossed out there with seemingly no self-consciousness about whether they are just as odd as anything TLP has written:

I'm just going to ignore those parts of Scott Alexander's review that are like that to focus on a pet peeve:

(The Bible describes very clearly what angels look like. Everyone agrees the Bible is the authority on angels, maybe the only primary source for them at all. All Western culture for 1500 years has been based around the Bible. There are hundreds of millions of people who take the Bible completely literally and read it every day. The Bible says - Revelations 22:18 - that if anyone changes the Bible in any way even by a single word they will be punished with eternal torture. And yet nobody’s mental image of an angel, nor any popular artistic depiction of an angel, has anything in common with the Biblical description. This is the highest-grade antimeme I feel comfortable using as an example; if you don’t see the fnords they can’t eat you.)

I mean that's... that's just definitely not the case.

Alexander links to this review by Zero HP Lovecraft (Whom I am unfamiliar with) who says,

I want to explain some things to you now that you probably feel deep in your bones but probably haven’t found the time to articulate. Whenever someone talks about “capitalism” like it’s a hostile alien living among us, they are either wittingly or unwittingly agitating for communism. They may not even realize it. Everyone feels some measure of discontent in their life and the lazy, fashionable scapegoat for this in current year america is “capitalism.” If you blame capitalism for your problems, no one will take it personally, and many of the other monkeys around you will make agreeable noises. But there is exactly one group of people who blames all their problems on capitalism, and that is communists. If you blame your problems on capitalism, you are a communist. If you talk about “late capitalism” or “late stage capitalism” you are (possibly unwittingly) claiming that the return of Christ glorious worker’s uprising is nigh, repent repent, every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Georgius Christ is Floyd. There are two ways you can try to get out of this: the first is “yes, and” and the other is “no, but”. If you’re part of the first group, you’re irredeemable. Communism, much like being a woman, is a congenital condition, and it can’t be cured, though sometimes you can treat the symptoms. If you aren’t a communist, but you scapegoat or criticize capitalism, then you are at the least participating in communism, but it may not be your essential nature. The slur for these people is “neoliberal” — a word that means someone who likes communism in theory but is just slightly too pragmatic to ever get past second base with her. You’re the ones I’m trying to help. We can tell TLP is in this second group because although he talks about capitalism, he saves his worst vitriol for “the media,” which is a right wing dog whistle, just like talking about capitalism is left-wing dog whistle. When a man is sending you mixed signals, it means he himself is confused.

This is more batshit than anything that he quotes from TLP.

I'm trying to figure out if this means:

"Capitalism" is a word that refers to every possible human economic system other than communism, such that by definition the only possible alternative is communism;

"Capitalism" and particularly "Communism" are not specific historical economic systems, but in fact names for the exactly two economic systems that can exist;

Current technological or political realities ensure that it is literally impossible to create any economic systems other than capitalism or communism at this particular moment, such that opposition to one is de facto support of the other

The first two would be bizarre, and even the last is, uh, contentious but reading further this guy wasn't pulling a schtick, he's just a depressing John Bircher who knows that if he pretends that he's giving you some secret post-normie secret insight we'll just forget everything about American history. Guys, did you know that blacks are inferior to whites, and more criminal, that only super insightful insight porn writers have ever come up with such an out-of-left field crazy idea that no american normie could ever actually believe?

Honestly, fuck this depressing fascist. His ilk are going to be running the country soon, complaining about how hamstrung they are as they march people into camps. It's amazing how good he is at selling the most normie American bullshit as, like, forbidden knowledge that only the most enlightened masters have cued into.

Honestly his opinions seem to be:

Men have been feminized, and that's bad;

White racial pride has been atenuated, and that's bad;

Trans people are mutilating themselves, and need to be stopped;

Blacks are more criminal than whites, and need to be controlled

But sold as, like, this forbidden knowledge that only somebody as smart as him could come up with. It's amazing how these people will see a finger-wagging leftist and then decide that said leftist must be running American politics.

I am poorer for having read this dumb bitch.

[lomltrentarnold]

hi i want to request a trent one shot where he comes home from pre season and y/n has surprised him with cake and balloons etc to celebrate him becoming VC. it’s just the two of them there and cute and fluffy. please n thank you

celebration — trent alexander-arnold ₊˚ෆ

anon this is such a cute idea 🥺💗💗 thank you for requesting sweetheart <3 sorry if this is not what you had in mind! | main masterlist

Trent was exhausted — his limbs were heavy and he was experiencing a bad jet lag. All he wanted to do is go home, take a shower and cuddle in bed with you. He wants to hug you, kiss you, and be in your vicinity, he missed you so bad.

He could already feel the tension leaving his body when he opened the door to your house. The familiar scent, warm, cozy, comforting and so you, had him happy to be back home. To you.

“Trent!”

A body collided with his the second he placed his suitcase and bags down. The sweet smell of your shampoo hitting his nose immediately, making him bury more of his face into your neck. His arms went around your body, bringing you closer to him, practically moulding your bodies together.

“Hi, baby.” Trent softly whispered, plump lips pressing little kisses at the side of your neck.

Giggles escaped your lips, high pitched and love sick. His kisses became mote ticklish and the way his hands keep squeezing your body made you swoon—God, you’re in deep with this boy.

You separated yourself from Trent, hands still lingering as you intertwined your fingers together and pulled him to the living room.

“I have a little surprise for you!”

A fond smile made its way on his face but it turned into a pout forming when you disappeared into the kitchen. “Where are you going?” he whined.

“Just a sec!”

You came back to the living room with a little cake in your hands, a string of balloons in between your fingers, half of your face covered by the red balloons.

You sat the cake down on the table in front of him, before taking the seat on the couch and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Welcome home, vice captain. So proud of you.”

The cake was covered with red frosting, ‘CONGRATS, VC TRENT! ♡’ was written on top of it in white.

Trent eyes went soft, the pout only looking more visible when he saw your pretty grin. He leaned in and captured your lips with his own. His warm hand sliding across your back and pressing you to him. You hummed out a noise and Trent gripped your hips in reflex. You started to move in sync, the tip of his nose nudging against yours as the kiss became deeper.

Breaking apart, Trent stared at you, eyes brown and wide and so so disgustingly in love. “Thank you, baby.”

You giggled when you noticed his swollen red lips as he licked them. Your thumbs stroked his cheeks before pecking him twice. “Do you want some cake?”

“Mhm.” Trent hummed out, nose nuzzling into you as he cling on you for dear life.

And thats how the night stayed as, Trent glued to your hip as you both shower each other with love. You reminding him every second of how proud you are of him and how far he’s come. He was already feeling a little sleepy so you weren’t sure if he heard you. But thats okay, you can continue telling him tomorrow, and everyday after that.

[ninacarstairss]

an incomplete list of things that will make me go feral if they’re included in the movie:

alex pulling henry in the red room and “impugning his virtue” against a painting of alexander hamilton and amy out the door pretending not to know what that horny little bitch of fsotus is up to

henry offering to get out of alex’s life to make it easier for him and alex brushing it off, only to realise later what henry was truly offering him and how stupid he was not to see it

oscar talking to alex at the lake house. oscar seeing him and accepting him. alex looking at henry, nora and june (yes i know she’s not in the movie just let me dream. he can be looking at henry, nora and pez too) and feeling like his world is complete. the night on the porch swing. sometimes you just jump and hope it’s not a cliff. the night in the lake. the little stone of certainty alex feels in his chest as he’s making breakfast.

yeah so just the lake house part

uma thurman delivering a power point presentation about dating the prince of england and alex running out when she brings up protections and pamphlets

jesus, could you stop being an obtuse fucking asshole for, like, twenty seconds?

so glad you flew here to insult me—

i fucking love you, okay?

the issue of le monde that henry keeps on his nightstand from the first time they woke up together

i want you. then fucking have me—

alex waking up in kensington in an empty bed, henry coming back, looking at alex and going “your hair in the morning is truly a wonder to behold” before making the world’s best declaration of love

“When he got older, he learned about love as a strange thing that could fall apart no matter how badly you wanted it, a choice you make anyway. He never imagined it'd turn out he was right both times.” there is like a 0,1% chance of this making it into the movie but i have this tattooed on my skin and it would be so perfect to see it on screen

alex saying in front of the fucking queen that he wants henry’s children

henry rambling about art and history in the v&a and alex pulling him into a kiss because he just loves him so much

i’m taking a picture of a national gay landmark. and also a statue

alex panicking about henry having to enlist

shaan having to dislodge philip from the chandelier when henry comes out to him

i’ve been gay as a maypole since i came out of mum, philip

henry’s obsession with jaffa cakes and mr wobbles

the memories email. I took that down to the gardens. I pressed it into the leaves of a silver maple and recited it to the Waterloo Vase. It didn't fit in any rooms.

alex being a brat about the turkeys “put them in my room put them in my room put them in my room”

And then, inexplicably, you had the absolute audacity to love me back. Can you believe it?

alex calling henry at christmas and telling him all about his family drama and henry simply telling him that he did his best, the only thing he really needed to hear

most things in this world are awful . but you are good

alex’s list of things he loves about henry (especially points 16 to 18)

henry writing down the list in the email and then calling henry anyway because he knows he likes to have these things written down but he needs to talk to him

alex kissing henry in front of a giambologna

Sería una mentira, porque no sería el.

the drunk bad metaphors about maps email

alex being summoned by the president after the email leaks and ellen just asking him “are you okay?”

alex’s whole family being there for him after the email leaks, hugging him through a panic attack and allowing him to be himself after a traumatic event that had to be dealt with in a strategic political way

or so help me God I will personally make your balls into fucking earrings. zahra you fucking queen

the call from the plane. “sweetheart” he hears henry’s exhale over the line. “hi love. are you okay?”

alex and henry running to hug each other as soon as alex gets to kensington

i won’t lie. not about you. alex and henry saying at the same moment that they want to do this, they want to tell the truth, because lying about this is not an option

the little touches between them. whether it’s holding hands beneath a buchkingham palace table or hugging in a closed room or pressing a knee agains the other in a public place, because that is a tether, a gravity that makes the world make sense

bea’s speech about grief and how it’s like a pie. i want to cry really hard

numbers on one of us getting involved in a sex scandal before the end of second term?

henry sticking out his chin in that defiant way

I love him, with all that, because of all that. On purpose. I love him on purpose.

"Plus we banged it our last night” shaan and zahra being a power couple

bea dumping the tea pot on philip and going “all that cocaine i did must have really done a job on my reflexes!”

the han and leia mural

dc dykes on bikes chasing protesters

To you, specifically, I say: I see you. I am one of you. As long as I have a place in this White House, so will you. I am the First Son of the United States, and I'm bisexual. History will remember us.

alex’s face being plastered on chocolate bars and thongs with henry’s after the royal suitor photos

henry telling alex he’s opening the queer shelters worlwide. henry telling alex he bought a brownstone in brooklyn

the flashbacks to election night 2016 when alex saw zahra crying and all those women taking in the moment their first madam president was elected

alex and henry biking through austin, alex opening the door to his childhood home with henry by his side

a little flash forward into their future and alex calling henry the love of his life, henry choosing the place for a credenza in his brownstone, going on vacations together and falling in love all over again, savouring their time together with no fear of getting caught, june and nora finally kissing and alex being shook at pez’s comment, henry realising he doesn’t want to ever go back, henry listening to alex talk to his mum about marriage when he has also bought a ring, henry and alex buying a house far from the public eye, having the quiet life they never had, june subletting the brownstone to be closer to pez and nora, “you and me”

[waywardcrow]

Timeless.

Chapter IV.

Summary: 1943. 1975. 2024. Three different decades, three different lives, three different times your life and Bucky's interwined; he lost you twice, will he do it again?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader.

TW: It can change each chapter but themes of Bucky as soldier and as the Winter Soldier in general, flashbacks and dreams in italics like this, lots of feels, reader's being a little anxious, some stalking lol, a brief sex scene (p in v), very bad written smut, implied domestic violence (not from Bucky), murder mentioned, past lives, past 40'sreader is mentioned to be named Beth but that changes for 2024 version of her so I nicknamed her little bird for Bucky, Ace for everybody else, this will be a +18 story so minors dni.

Disclaimer: Please remember english is not my first language so if I make a mistake or forget something let me know.

Pictures from pinterest and graphic and dividers by the amazing @ firefly-graphics so all credits to the creators.

Previous chapter <;<<

You were fired, that wasn’t a surprise.

Mia Alexander didn’t sue you for every penny you had, that was shocking.

But getting a call from Pepper Potts herself, that was the real main event of your whole life.

She asked you to go and pay her a visit at her office in the Avengers tower, like if that didn’t send you in a spiral of bliss and terror, what will you wear? What could a woman like her want to talk with someone like you? Even if Sergeant Barnes –Bucky, you reminded yourself- told her what had happened in the gala, she might be mad at you.

Your head begun to think in the possibilities all the way there, considering that this was the reason why Mia didn’t sued you, maybe Pepper Potts would do it.

When you finally arrived to the tower your stomach was in knots, not even your lucky outfit made you feel better but like every other day in your life you sucked it up and walked to the front desk.

“Hi, I’m here to see Miss Potts?” you said, making it sound more like a question and the receptionist stared at your vintage midi skirt and blouse like he understood your hesitation. You offered him a smile before telling him your name so he looked for it in the screen in front of him and gave you a visitant pass.

“Third floor, follow the hall, last door in your right” he said and then went back to his screen.

“Oh, ok, thanks” your neck was hot with embarrassment when you reached the elevators and just became more evident when you got in and someone else did too.

“Good morning, third floor too?” Scott Lang, THE Scott Lang, asked you and you could only nod like an idiot. He did a double take on your face and smiled “hey, I know you; you are the girl who throws champagne at evil bosses.”

You were turning purple, it was a sure thing.

“What?” it was all you said.

“Yeah, the other night you did an incredible stunt, Sam told us everything” so Captain America knew too, great. Scott must saw something in your expression because his changed “is ok, seriously, when we hear what she did no one blamed you for it, I was sure Hope was about to kick her ass and don’t let me start with Yelena” your head was spinning “I think it was brave and more subtle than ruining your boss company and driving a car to his pool”

That earned a strangled laugh from you.

“Are you going to see Miss Potts too, Mr. Lang?” you asked when the elevator doors opened again and you walked with him.

“Actually I’m going to see Maria Hill but I’ll see you later” he smiled at you with such honesty that you relaxed for the first time in all day, making your way to your destiny you noticed the front desk for Miss Potts assistant was empty and you were just on time which was as good as being late.

Without not knowing what to do, you knocked at her door.

“Come in”.

Taking a deep breath, you did it squaring your shoulders and trying to tell yourself everything would be fine.

“Good morning, Miss Potts, I hope is ok I called, there was no one and-“

“It’s completely fine” she said gesturing for you to sit in front of her and went to address your formally even if contradicted her next words “Please call me Pepper, everyone does.

There was something about her, a professionalism that was inspiring but also made her approachable and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Only if you call me by my first name too”

“It’s what you like to be called? Because Sam told me about your friend calling you Ace when he went with Sergeant Barnes to the hospital, I think it fits you” at her words it was impossible not to blush again; first of all because of the mention of Bucky, the recurrent thought of your head the last days and then because of the nickname Harper gave you.

“I mean, yeah, my friends call me that” it was an exaggeration, you only had one friend.

“Maybe we should stick to it, between me and you Pepper is not even my name but I think is perfect for me” there was something like nostalgia in her eyes but she didn’t let you think too much about it “and I like that my employees feel comfortable when we talk.”

“Excuse me, what?” it was really embarrassing how you couldn’t form a decent sentence in front of her.

“I would like you to be my assistant, Ace” she said and then your life really changed.

Bucky still could tasted you, the other you, the one who reincarnated and was born in a rich Italian family in 1950, the one that somehow found him when he was The Winter Soldier.

He wasn’t supposed to fuck you in your fiancée’s car, well ex fiancée, you couldn’t marry a dead asshole. His mind couldn’t know why he needed you that bad but his body did, Bucky was sure it was the conditioning what made him be such a caveman with you but the truth was, you were his mirror back then.

You wanted him since Lucas bragged about his connections to Hydra and how they lend him their best asset to protect the arsenal his father’s company will provided for them. Your whole attention was in the silent assassin who looked at you like you were everything he could ever want.

Lucas wasn’t great with you, his little bird, that’s why he snapped his neck and took you away, sometimes his nightmares will let him breath and remember you surrounding him, riding his cock, high in pleasure, telling him that you loved him before you both were found and he was dragged back to Hell.

As a small blessing, he didn’t remembered that while dreaming, Bucky was too lost on you, in the salty taste of your skin against his tongue when he traced the valley of your naked breasts with it.

“Give me one more, little bird” he ordered, thrusting in and out of you with an incredible skill considering the small space “drench my cock again.”

His english was perfect with you, no sign of hesitation, not remembering he wasn’t supposed to speak it so naturally when it wasn’t necessary; the Brooklyn accent showing up without effort.

“I- I can’t” you sobbed, drunk on him, your body asking for more.

“You will” his metal hand let go your neck to play with your clit, the cold metal sending you to your climax once again, taking him with you.

The softness of your skin against his was the last thing he remembered before waking up.

Harper called you when you got back home and screamed when you tell her the news; she made a joke about coming to work with you so she could see Sam Wilson every day, making you feel better. Since you convinced your parents go and have the retirement they deserved, Harper was the only one you had and she was more than what you deserved but sometimes you wished for more, for someone to go home to.

Like a fool, your mind went to Sergeant Barnes; you needed to thank him for what he did for you.

If not for him, you would have be ruined but how could someone put that in a thank you card?

Maybe you could bake something for him.

Bucky likes apple pie.

The thought came out of nowhere with an intense hint of pain between your eyebrows, what was that?

Maybe a nap would help, your new job waited for you and this was the chance you dreamed of, ruining it wasn’t an option.

When Bucky went to check on you that night, you were already sleeping in your couch, making very difficult for him to let you there. Of course he could break in and carry you to your room without waking you up but it would make you feel unsafe.

It was hard for him to go back to a civilian life, or the closest he could have, his actions needed to be careful, especially around you. It was also torture he remembered almost everything and you nothing at all, that he couldn’t tell you about that night on your porch in 1943 or your breakfast with him, Steve and the Howlies when your unit was sent to Europe and destiny brought you both together again, he couldn't tell you about that time in Italy.

Bucky wanted you to know everything but you will never believe him, in the best case you'd believe it was a joke or a proof of him losing his mind but you could also believe him dangerous –which he was- and get away from him where Bucky would not be able protect you.

Sited there in your fire escape, he started to memorize every part of you he could see through the darkness, if that was all he could have from you, he would make it be enough.

Tag list: @cjand10 @bunnyforhim @cookingdancingchick

Next chapter >>>

Hello lovelies! Sorry for bringing this short chapter, I tried to start going through their past lives but witout giving so much details so this don't gets very confusing, if it still is please tell me so I can work on it, what de you think? I'll love to read about it in the comments!

Love, Lily.

[backtotheshitshow]

Tutor

(Nico Alexander x reader)

summary: y/n can only tutor Nico for so long before his flirting starts to get to her.

warning: haven’t written in a while, fluff, little angst, mention of Nico’s cancer, etc

Requests are open

Y/n had been Nico’s tutor for about five months now, and truth be told Nico’s aunt told Y/n that she could stop tutoring Nico about two months ago. But why would she stop? Y/n loved helping Nico with his school studies, and its not like she had exactly anything better to do on a her Friday nights.  

“can you stop?” y/n sighed in annoyance.

“stop what?” Nico teased, raising his eyebrows.

“giggling everytime I say organism. You’re not twelve.” she states, never taking her eye of the textbook.

“oh come on it’s funny.” Nico grinned.

Rolling her eyes, Y/n closes her biology text book, setting it next to her on the hospital bed “perhaps we should move on to a different textbook, Do you have chemistry..”

“With you? Yes” Nico smirks, leaning a little closer.

“Nico can you just focus please.” the girl spoke in a angrier tone than she had intended to. Nico had always made those kind of comments, being his typical charming self, and usually it was no problem, in fact Y/n quite liked the flirting. But lately all the flirting and innuendos was making her annoyed. It’s not like Nico meant any of the words he was saying to her, so why say them at all.

“Geez, what’s got your panties in a knot, maybe I can help undo it.” Nico winked at Y/n with a smile.

Y/n began grabbing her things, “I’m going home. Make sure you practice those flash cards. I’ll see you next week.” She spoke bluntly.

“Wait, what’s the rush? Don’t you want to..”

“No Nico! Whatever flirty sexual innuendo you’re about to suggest. No. Goodnight” y/n walked at of the room as quickly as possible. Leaving behind a very confused Nico to sit with his thoughts.

…

“She’s never late” Nico thought to himself.

For the past week all Nico could think about was why Y/n had stormed out on Friday night. He knew it had be something he did. That maybe he had gone to far and made Y/n feel super uncomfortable. But there was part of him that wondered if Y/n had ever actually liked tutoring him or if she was just doing because she was getting payed and felt bad for him. Any time Nico thought about the possibly of Y/n only being in his life out of pitty, he’d feel an awful pain in his chest, nothing like any he’d ever felt from treatment before.

Y/n walked into the hospital room 45 minutes later than usual. “Where have you been?” Nico question her, standing up from his bed

“ eating dinner.” Y/n unpacked her things out of her backpack, not once looking at Nico.

He took a deep breathe “Listen about last week…”

“It alright Nico. I was just tired okay.” Y/n seemed distant, usually she’d be all sarcastic and making jokes, and now she’s just sitting there answering in a bored monotone voice.

“No, not okay. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with anything I said. I know your just trying to do the job you’re being payed to do and…”

“You think I get paid to tutor you?” Y/n asked confused.

“You don’t?”

“No. Your aunt tries but I always say no because I know she works hard enough to pay the bills as it is” the girl explains.

“So you are here out of pitty.” Nico looks to the floor, the chest pain he had been suffering with all week coming back again.

“Oh don’t tell me your pulling the ‘you’re only here cause I have cancer’ shit.” Y/n says, finally looking at him.

Nico looks up at her, slightly surprised at her sudden attitude. “Then why…”

“Because I like spending time with you, Nico. I just..” Y/n takes a seat on the bed, Nico doing the same. “I left last week because I was just.. I don’t know. You’re always making your silly little flirty comments, and I was confused as to why you’d say those kind of things of you didn’t mean them, so I left.”

Nico turns to face Y/n, taking her hand in his. “who said I don’t mean the things I say. “ Their faces had become extremely close, and Y/n felt so much tension between the two of them she could cut it with a knife.

“Nico.”

“Mm” he hummed his response, as he gazed into the only eyes he ever wanted to look at for the rest of his life.

“You’re… look I…”

“Me too” Nico says, placing his hand on Y/n’s cheek, bring their lips together.

…

A/n: I’m dying. It’s so 🥰

@nekee-lilac02

[jeannereames]

Your top 5 Alexander the Great moments?

Top Five Alexander Moments

One issue with answering this is to figure out what events actually happened, especially when it comes to anecdotes! Here are four I find either significant to understanding his charisma and/or which explain how he functioned and why he was successful, plus one I like just because I’m a horse girl.

1) To my mind, the event that best illustrates why his men followed him to the edge of their known world occurred in the Gedrosian Desert. While I’m a bit dubious that this trek was as bad as it’s made out to be (reasons exist for exaggerating), it was still baaaad. One story relates that some of his men found some brackish water in a sad little excuse for a spring, gathered it in a helm, and brought it to him. Given his poor physical condition after the Malian siege wound, he no doubt needed it badly. He thanked them (most sincerely), then carried it out where all (or at least a lot) of his men could see, raised it overhead, and announced that until all of them could drink, he wouldn’t. Then he poured it onto the rocky ground.

That gesture exemplified his charisma. And it absolutely is not something the likes of a Donald tRump could even imagine doing—nor most dictators, tbh. They’d be blaming everybody else and calling for heads while drinking Diet Coke, not suffering alongside their people.

This wasn’t an isolated event of that type. While he almost certainly didn’t have time to engage along with his soldiers in every project, we’re told he would drop in from time-to-time, to inspire them and to offer a little friendly competition.

He also dressed like his men for everyday activities, especially early in the campaign. As time went on, some sources say he inserted more distance—probably necessary as his duties exploded—but he still seems to have found time to “just hang out” with his Macedonians on occasion. The claims that he was too high and mighty to do so appears to have been exaggeration (as such accusations often are) in order to forward a narrative that he was “going Asian.” Troop resentment over court changes was very genuine—I don’t want to underplay it (especially as I’ve written about it in a few chapters in this), but it tended to boil up during certain periods/events, then die back again. Alexander was trying to walk a very fine line of incorporating the conquered while not ticking off his own people.

2) Reportedly, he once threw a man out of line because he hadn’t bothered to secure the chin strap on his helm. I pick this one because it tells me a whole lot about how he saw himself as a commander, and what he expected of his men (and why he tended to consistently win).

On the surface, his reaction seems almost petty. It’s precisely the sort of mistake students whine about when professors ding them for it. It’s just a chin strap! I’d have tightened it before I went into battle! (It’s just a few typos; you knew what I meant! Or, Why does everything in the bibliography have to be exactly matching in style? Who cares? What a stupid thing to obsess about!) These objections are all of a piece. First, they’re lazy, and second, they indicate a disconcern with details. In battle, such disconcern can get a person killed. And on a larger scale, for a general, such disconcern loses battles.

One of the striking aspects of Alexander’s military operations was just how well his logistics worked. Consistently. We hear little about them precisely because they rarely fail. Food and water was there when they needed it, as were arrow replacements, wood to repair the spears, wool and leather for clothes and shoes, canvas for tents, etc., etc. All those little niggling (boring) details. If these are missing, soldiers become upset (and don’t fight well). Starting with Philip, the Macedonian military was a well-oiled machine. That’s WHY Gedrosia was such a shock: the logistics collapsed. Contra some historians, he did not do it to “punish” his men, nor to best Cyrus.* He had a sound reason—to scout a trade route.

Alexander understood that details matter. It starts with a loose chinstrap. (Or an unplanned-for storm and rebellion in his rear.) Everything else can unravel from that.

3) Alexander sends Hephaistion a little dish of small fish (probably smelts). He also helps an officer secure the lady of his dreams. And writes another on assignment (away from the army) that a mutual friend is recovering from an illness. While technically three “moments,” these are all of a piece. Alexander knows his men, and is concerned not only for their physical well-being, but also their mental state: that they’re happy. Granted, these are all elite officers, but it suggests he’s paying attention to people. I’ve always assumed he sent Hephaistion the fish because they were his friend’s favorite, and/or they were a special treat and he wanted to share. That he didn’t punish an officer for going AWOL to chase the mistress he wanted but offered advice, and even assistance, on how to court and secure her suggests the same care.

I don’t want to take away from what appears to be his serious anger management problems(!), but little details like those above strike me as the likeable side of Alexander—why his men were so devoted to him.

4) Then we have the encounter with Timokleia after the siege of Thebes. While probably a bit too precious to have occurred exactly as related, I think it may still hold a kernel of truth.

Alexander had a reputation of chivalry towards his (highborn) female captives. If some of that was likely either propaganda from his own time or philhellenic whitewashing later by Second Sophistic authors such as Plutarch (and Arrian), poor treatment of women is not something we hear attributed to him.

Ergo, while the meeting was probably doctored for a moral tail, he may well have freed Timokleia as an act of clemency to put a better face on a shocking destruction he knew wouldn’t sit well with the rest of Greece—who he both wanted to cow yet earn support from. (A difficult balancing act.) Also, if Timokleia hadn’t been high-born, she’d probably have been hauled off to one of the prisoner cages with little fanfare.

Nonetheless, I find his actions surprising given the casual misogyny of his era. If we can take the bare bones of the story as true, and it’s not all invented, Timokleia was raped as a matter of course during the sacking of Thebes, then managed to trick her rapist and kill him by pushing him down a well and dropping rocks on him. I assume this happened when his men weren’t there, but they found out soon enough and hauled her in front of Alexander to be punished for killing an officer. To the surprise of all, Alexander decided the man had earned it and freed Timokleia. One might be inclined to call this overly sentimental, but….

There’s a similar story that occurred much later in the Levant, when two of Parmenion’s men seduced/(raped?) the mistresses/wives of some mercenaries. Alexander instructed Parmenion to kill the Macedonians if they were found to be guilty.

In both cases, we have an affront against (respectable) women. In the latter case, Alexander was (no doubt) working to avoid conflict between hired soldiers and his own men, who—in typical Greek fashion—would have looked down on mercenaries as a matter of course. Some sort of conflict between Macedonians and Greek mercenaries up in Thrace had almost got Alexander’s father killed. Alexander saved him. No doubt that was on Alexander’s mind here.

Yet what both events illuminate is a willingness on Alexander’s part to punish his own men for affronts to honor/timē that involved women. Yes, this is clearly about discipline. But it also shows an unusual sensitivity to sex crimes in warfare: actions that would normally fall under the excuse of “boys will be boys” (especially when their blood is up).

I doubt he’d have felt the same about slaves or prostitutes; he was still a product of his time. Yet without overlooking his violence—sometimes extreme (the genocide of the Branchidai, for instance)—I find his reaction in these cases to be evidence of an atypical sympathy for women that I’d like to think isn’t wholly an invention of later Roman authors. And just might show the influence of his mother and sisters.

5) Last… the Boukephalas story…because who doesn’t love a good “a boy and his horse” tale? Obviously the Plutarchian version is tweaked to reflect that author’s later concern to contrast the Macedonian “barbarian” Philip with the properly Hellenized Alexander. Ignore the editorializing remarks, especially the “find a kingdom big enough for you” nonsense.

But the bare bones of the story seem likely: unmanageable horse, cocky kid, bet with dad, gotcha moment. You can imagine this was an anecdote Alexander retold a time or three, or twenty.

——

* His attempts to copy Cyrus may be imposition by later writers. In his own day, he may have cared more about the first Darius, for reasons Jenn Finn is going to explain in a forthcoming, very good article on the burning of Thebes and Persepolis.

[football-and-fanfics]

Trent Alexander-Arnold masterlist (2020 - 2023)

These are all the imagines I have written for Trent Alexander-Arnold (links below the cut) from 2020 - 2023. For imagines written from 2024 and onwards, click here.

Last updated: 17 March 2024

Imagines posted in 2020: 💦= smut imagine

"Are you alright? You're so quiet."

Attacked by a 'fan'

"I'm fine, stop asking."

"Can you just fuck off already?!"

Snoring

"He's at the hospital."

Feeling insecure

Hiding an injury part 1 \ part 2

Comforted by a teammate (with Virgil van Dijk and Jordan Henderson)

Feeling too tired to join in festivities after a big win

Hungover

"Harder, harder..." 💦

Cuddling

Sick

Panic attack

"You scared the shit out of me."

Being his shoulder to cry on

Arguing over a board game

Snow

Stitches

"Don't tell me to calm down."

Stealing the blankets

Halloween horror movie marathon

Hangover

Getting called into the manager's office

"Sorry, I can't be quiet." 💦

"Just talk to me, please."

"It was just a dream."

"You're grumpy today."

Fear of needles

"You're staring, sweets."

"I can't do it."

"So you want it rough tonight?" 💦

Decorating the Christmas tree

Imagines posted in 2021: 💦= smut imagine

"I've missed you."

Swimming pool 💦

"You're hot when you're angry."

Photo prompt

"Get those cold feet away from me."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"You're such a softie."

"If you want to talk to me, I'm here."

Falling asleep with his head in your lap

Getting threats part 1 / part 2

"Breathe."

"Let's never do that again."

Concussion

"I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice."

"I just don't like thunder."

"Shut up and make me." 💦

"Are you jealous?"

Going back to the dressing room after losing a big match

Comfort after losing a big match (with Andy Robertson)

"Whoa, don't pass out on me."

"You look like you're in pain."

"I can't do this."

Getting help from teammates in dealing with abuse on social media

"That wasn't your finest moment, no."

7-2 Loss against Aston Villa

Needing a talk with the coach

Not being able to sleep

Photo prompt

"Relax, relax, calm down."

First date

Pre-performance jitters

"I can't leave with you crying like this."

"You're cute when you're asleep."

"Shh, don't wake him."

Online abuse gets physical

"Ease up a little."

Out (with Jordan Henderson)

Imagines posted in 2022:

Falling asleep on the bus (with Andy Robertson)

Photo prompt

Photo prompt

Angry for getting substituted

Fever / sick

"Back off." (with Jordan Henderson)

Bromance Week posting #3

Exhausted (with Andy Robertson) part 1 / part 2

"I-I'm bleeding."

"I've got you, it's okay."

Dealing with poor form

The injury part 1 / part 2

Roommates (with Jordan Henderson)

"Don't worry, I'm fine."

"Guys, just let him sleep."

Red card

Imagines posted in 2023:

"How long have you been hiding this?" (The Medic)

"You definitely needed the sleep."

Advice on proposing to his girlfriend (with Jordan Henderson)

Getting named vice-captain

Knocked out during a match

Sick (with Dominik Szoboszlai)

Overheated (The Medic)

[metvmorqhoses]

Hi! I never read the original trilogy before watching the show, only the crows books, but I agree with a lot of what you’ve said about Alina & Aleksander. It’s obviously a cruel and poorly fitting match. May I ask what kind of person you think would truly match Aleksander better?

So, here is the deal: while the right answer to this question might appear pretty obvious, since pretty much everyone in the fandom agrees that Aleksander deserves an equal, I have to confess that I've always found a big flaw in this otherwise, well, flawless reasoning.

Albeit I obviously agree with everything you said about Alina's (especially show!Alina) lack of... personality (to express it kindly), I think dismissing the general concept of book!Alina, at least in the way she should have been written had her writer any sense of artistic potential, might actually be a dire mistake in the proverbial grand scheme of literary things.

I'll explain.

It's indeed pretty easy to sketch out Aleksander's ideal match. He himself would tell you he'd need a mirror image of who he is in order to finally, finally, feel complete: someone to match him in power, but above all in his understanding of power; someone to match him in immortality, but above all in his experience with it; someone who shares his predatory eagle-view on existence and therefore sharp-sighted enough to look in his same direction and see the same clash of colors in dawns and sunsets turning morality and philosophy unforgiving black.

In short, Aleksander would need someone who shares his unique condition, but most importantly having already lived through each and every single stage of it (the same despair, the same fear, the same loneliness) and therefore being someone who just gets what it means, what it feels, to be him.

There's no doubt in my mind this is what the Darkling dreamt about in the dead of night, what he prayed for before actually finding the Sun Summoner. He prayed she had been out there all along somehow, each year he himself had existed, going through the same centuries of unforgiveness, of solitude, of horror, through the same desperate quest for an equal, for him, just as he had been looking for her, all that time, all along.

I've seen many amazing people believing this very same thing while exploring the possibility in both meta and fanfiction, and I absolutely get where they are coming from. But I'm afraid I have to disagree. As poets say, there's a huge difference between what someone thinks they need and what they actually do need.

Aleksander's perfect match should indeed be his mirror image, but the mirror image of the boy he once was (the boy who was in love with "all the colors one cannot see in the dark", the one who was moved by the mere idea of companionship and intimacy, who was brave enough to risk his own life for the sake of a little girl he had just met), and not of the eternal and lost creature he had become, no matter how shocking the mere notion would be to him.

Aleksander would need a person who reminds him of the unspoiled self that was torn away from him, of his original unmarred idealism, his profound appreciation for living before he became a mere stubborn and bitter habit, of the humanity he was forced to shed. And, above all, Aleksander would need to be able himself to perform this act of saving, protecting and cherishing this twin heart for the sake of that heart of his no one had cared to save in time.

I think seeing himself, his truer, unspoiled self, in his equal and being able to shield her from everything he endured, as a single beam of light in endless oceans of darkness, would be virtually the only thing able to save him in turn, finally giving his life a meaning no war nor time could steal away from him.

And this is precisely why I think the concept of Alina had real literary potential, had it been used wisely, because Alina was supposed to be exactly that - an Alexander who can still, materially, be protected, saved, someone with the strength of not treding her own humanity for comforting numbness and disillusion, not even while crushed by the weight of eternity, and, in doing so, allowing him to be human and bearably so for the first time in his eternal detached yet still excruciating exististing.

It's a pity, because at fleeting times both books and show did touch on this very topic, almost giving in, only to idiotically shy away from it for reasons that will always be beyond me.

[onthewaytosomewhere]

WIP Wednesday

so, apparently i really need to stop saying i'm not gonna do something when it comes to fics that's how i end up writing so many things

including this thing that attempted to eat my brain yesterday - IT'S A FAIRYTALE i guess - and it's already got a title (baby, just say yes) and according to my doc is over 1500 words and just started - oh my - this is a bit rough cuz i've really just been getting it into the doc at this point - but here goes have some of the beginning (cuz it's been written in segments so far)

it's a bit longer than i thought so i'll put it behind a read-more along with some tags (like so many lol)

Once upon a time, there was a young boy, a prince named Henry – Prince Henry Fox of Windsor. Prince Henry lived what many would believe to be a charmed life - full of love and happiness. While his life did have these things, it also had loneliness, sadness, and anger. Our young prince was lucky to have some family members who would always have his back, and as he grew older, he realized how very important that was. It has been said that Prince Henry will always remember the first time he saw Prince Alexander Diaz of Claremont. He had just turned seven days before and was standing on the balcony, overlooking the garden, when he saw the sun reflect off the shiny curls atop the younger prince’s head as he ran amongst the flowers. If we could see into his mind, we would know he often thinks about the joy written across Prince Alex’s face and the mirth in those chocolate eyes that have frequently been described as the most beautiful anyone has seen. His sister, Princess Beatrice, ever his stalwart supporter, will recall to anyone who asks how Henry talked all about the mysterious boy in the garden. Even all these years later, she can remember telling him all she knew of Prince Alex and what he was there for and how our young prince hung on to her every word about him. Henry’s father, the Earl of Foxburough(?), Arthur Fox, will tell you, if you ask, how excited his youngest son had been at the prospect of getting to play with someone other than Bea - after all, there are only so many times a young boy wants to stand still while his sister dresses him up and puts makeup on him. He also will recall the devastation he saw Henry go through when Queen Mary didn’t allow it to happen. Our young prince had kept his eyes peeled, hoping to see that joy up close. Unfortunately, it was not meant to be that time; it would be a few more years before that happened.

and now i'm pretty sure i'm like first to do this so i'm a tag everyone with some no-pressure tags cuz i'm like a puppy and need to know what you're working on lol @adreamareads @agame-writes @anincompletelist @bitbybitwrites @dragonflylady77 @duchessdepolignaca03 @england-would-fall @firenati0n @firstsprinces @forever-fixating @heybuddy-drabbles @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @inexplicablymine @junebugclaremontdiaz @kiwiana-writes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @magicandarchery @piratefalls @priincebutt @sophie1973 @stellarm @sunnysideprince @suseagull04 @taste-thewaste @typicalopposite