#christian grey fanfiction

[ilminnestrone]

Oh well.

*unzips pants*

#final fantasy vii #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #cloud strife #shrek #dio brando #elsa #anastasia steele #christian grey #harry potter #draco malfoy #severus snape #john cena #solid snake #santa claus #zelda #link #sonic the hedgehog #fanfiction #ao3

[andydrysdalerogers]

The Type You Save ~ F O U R

Detective James Barnes hasn't seen the love of his life in three years. Since the night she was almost caught stealing a painting. He knows it was her and she disappeared leaving him confused and heart broken.

Alexandra Richards never expected to be pulled back into her old life two years after she left it. She had found love and a home and was happy. Until a note blackmailed her to take one last job. Three years later she walked into the last person she expected to see in San Francisco. Because he lived in New York right?

They always put family before everything. And he would do anything to get his family back. Because she's the type you save.

A/N: Taglist is open!

TW: mob, death, smut, rape intentions, angst, guns, family abandonment, dub-con, manipulation

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Previous : T H R E E

Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist

Three years earlier 

“Because I don’t see the point in it.” James says fixing his tie in the mirror, tightening the knot at his throat as he prods a dimple just below the bulk. Exactly how Alexandra would do it for him but right now he needed to keep his hands busy and mind off of something.  

“It’s nice, James. It’s nice to look at.” Her voice carries from the bathroom, and he can hear just a small smile in it. Knows he can still win this argument. 

“It’s a thousand dollars and you’re giving me it’s nice to look at?”  

“Well yeah, it’s kind of the whole point of art. People like to look at it. Take it in.”  

“Yeah, that’s what galleries are for.” He likes that one, proud he came up with it. Has a comeback about museums ready to shout, too, if she didn’t back down. And Alexandra rarely gave up without a good fight, which was one of the reasons he loved her but also why he always lost so many of their arguments.  

This wasn’t going to be one of those.  

“Have you heard yourself?”  

“Have you?”  

“I’m buying it.” Alexandra says, voice closer now so when he turns, he sees her leaning against the doorway. Dress clinging on to every curve, rippling slightly as she crosses her legs beneath the satin green.  

Knows his weakness. Knows that this is one way to get him to forget all his words.  

“I think there’s a bigger discussion to be had.” James manages, hands still playing with his tie even though it’s done. Eyes following the shape of the woman in front of him, how he wishes it was his hands on her instead of his gaze.  

“I’ll put it on my side of the room but you’re not allowed to look at it because you didn’t want it.” A sly smile, she knows she’s close to winning. But he has something.  

“I didn’t say that. I just said I didn’t see the point in it.”  

“Anyway, what’s a measly thousand dollars compared to your two?” Alex pushes away from the frame, dress dragging on the floor where she’s not wearing her heels yet.  

And he can smell her now, has to stop himself from breathing her in. To following the scent and lapping it up with kisses as bitter as it might be. Doesn’t. Keeps himself distracted by studying her necklace against golden skin and freckles. 

“Are we keeping tabs now?”  

“I don’t know that depends, are you keeping secrets?” Alexandra tilts her head, looking for his eyes.  

“Well fuck Alex, it’s hard to want to ask you to marry me when you are so damn stubborn, you know that?”  

“What?” There it is. He wins. It’s barely a breath when she speaks. 

“Well, that got you to drop the painting.” Bucky pulls out a small box from his pocket, soft against the callousness of the fingers that are much more at home around cold metals than soft velvet. 

“James…”  

“Yeah, Alexandra. I was going to ask tonight at dinner but then again, when do our plans ever work out the way we actually planned them?” He kneels in front of her, and she can do nothing but watch. Wondering how she got to be so lucky. That even in arguments there was always a love between them. That disagreements couldn’t break them.  

Family over everything.  

And this was that. 

“Jamie, I…”  

“Allie, will you marry me?”  

“Yes! God, yes!” James slips the ring onto her finger, the perfect fit as it glides against her skin until it reaches knuckle. The sign of a promise made. One she didn’t want to break. Would keep forever. Would keep her going on her darkest days and remind her of love on the ones that were even worse. 

A reminder of James and all his love. 

“I love you so much.” He whispers as he stands, and she wraps her arms around his neck. He pulls her into him at the waist, not wanting to let go quite yet. This was theirs.  

No one could make them forget that. 

“I love you too.” Alexandra smiles against his neck and he should know that he didn’t win the argument. That she’s a fighter. “Now you can get me that painting as an engagement gift.”  

“The ring is my engagement gift.” James scoffs, pulling away so he could kiss her. Wanting all of her all at once as if she wasn’t his forever.  

“It’s really beautiful.”  

“I know. You can put the painting above the bed.”  

Alexandra wins. Because she always won with James.  

James won when she said yes. 

One month later… 

Alex leaned back on the bed, throwing a hand dramatically over her eyes. “Do I have to?” 

James gently pried her hands away from her face. “Alex, c’mon.  We have to pick a date. So we can party and drink and celebrate you and me.”  

“Fine.” She stops and looks at him. “Tomorrow.”  

“Tomorrow?”  

“Yep. Your mom and sister can meet us at the courthouse with Steve and then we get married, go to dinner and come back here and make love to each other for the rest of the night.” She smiled sweetly at him.  

“You don’t want a wedding?” 

“I want you. I want to be officially yours. Don’t need anything after that.”  

“What about your family? Friends?”  

She shrugged. “You know I don’t have much of either. Ok, fine, Sandy can come too.”  

James smiles at her. “So tomorrow. James and Alexandra. Bucky and Alex. Jamie and Allie.”  

“Yeah, Jamie and Allie are getting married. We should call people.”  

“I, James Buchanan Barnes take thee Alexandra Nicole Richards to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health. I promise to honor, cherish, respect and love you, as long as we both shall live.”  

James slid the matching ring onto Alex’s finger.  

“I, Alexandra Nicole Richards, take thee, James Buchanan Barnes, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health. I promise to honor, cherish, respect and love you as long as we both shall live.”  

The silver wedding band that Alex had picked the day after they got engaged slid onto James's hand. She had it inscribed. Jamie and Allie, Family over everything.  

“You may kiss your bride.” James smiled as he kissed her gently, knowing she was his forever.  

Who knew that four weeks later, everything would change.  

Present day… 

“I’m your husband Alex! You’re my wife! I had the right to know!” 

“And it’s my job to protect you. How could I tell my hero cop husband that I was a criminal? That I did things, terrible things in my former life. That I ask for redemption every day. Which is why I went to work for Bishop. For a chance to protect the things I could. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to lose time with you. You have no idea how hard this has been for me.”  

“For you? I thought Grey had you killed. I looked every day for you. Alex, you are my soul mate. And when you left, you took a part of me with you.”  

Alex feels like she has been punched. She knew he hurt but not this much.  “I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing.” Alex drops to the couch and sobs. The last three years had finally caught up with her.  

James drops next to her and pulls her in. “I’m sorry. Baby, I’m sorry for yelling.”  

“I… I deserve… it,” she gasps between hiccups.  

“No, doll, no. As much as it kills me, I understand.” He held her close as she cried. Steve got up to get her a drink.  

“Alex, can you tell us how you got mixed up in all of this?” Steve handed her a glass of water.  

Alex took a couple of sips. She closed her eyes and looked up. James took the opportunity to wipe the tears away. “Ten years ago, my brother, Simon, was working for Grey. I was a freshman at MIT and Simon was a senior at Harvard. Simon, he held weekly games for Grey to hustle students. Turns out that Simon was skimming from the top. Almost $100 grand. When Grey and his goons finally noticed, Simon took off, leaving me behind.”  

“Did you try to find him?” James asked.  

“I did. But he sent me a letter a few weeks later, saying this was the last time I would hear from him. Grey didn’t realize I was his sister until I started asking questions about his whereabouts. My parents, they, umm, cut their losses with him. I went home for Christmas, and we had a falling out. I never went back home after that. My dad, he would send me an email once a month. About six years ago they stopped.  He had died with my mom in an accident.”  

“Which is why you said you had no family,” Steve sighed.  

“My suspicion is that it wasn’t accident,” Alex continued. “It was Grey. I was working with him about two years by this time. He took me in after Simon, said he would take care of me. But that I would work with him on some projects he had. He, uh, offered me anything, money, clothes, jewelry, a house if I would just help him. He knew I was a whiz kid computer genius from what Simon had told him. And he used the heartbreak of losing my family to manipulate me into thinking I had a new one.”  

“Jesus. That fucker brainwashed you into thinking he was the only one.”  

“Yeah. I fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. Soon, he took my background in martial arts, ballet, and gymnastics to become ‘The Cat.’ He told me that every time we took something it was from someone who hurt innocents. I thought I was helping, doing the right thing. He would keep a tally, saying that he was saving money for me from the percentage of the things I stole. Turns out, it was the debt Simon owed.” 

Alex stood up to stretch. “About six years ago, I was with Grey’s right hand, Walker, ironically called ‘the Hand’ for a job. I was supposed to take a necklace and he was only going to speak to the client who owed. Instead, Walker shot him in the head in front of his child. That wasn’t the plan. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I took off on a bike I found and when I went to talk to Grey, he said that I needed to keep my mouth shut. I knew then I needed to leave.” 

James swallowed, not wanting to know the answer but needed to ask the question. “Were you in a relationship with him?” 

Alex turned to look out the window. “Yes,” she whispered. “But after that night, I broke that part off with him. I was still a lieutenant I guess in his gang. But a friend, Nate, helped me get out a few months later. That’s how I ended up in New York. I went straight, went to night school, and met a guy who I fell in love with.” She smiled at James.  

“So, you were out?” 

“I was out. Until about two weeks after we got married. Grey found me, told me he needed me for one last job, the last of the debt I thought I had already paid. Steal the painting and he would go away.” Alex hesitated. But she needed to be honest. “He grabbed me, kissed me, and said the debt would be paid if I slept with him. I refused. Agreed to the job and traded my soul for your lives.” She looked at James, who was red in anger. “I would never do that to you. You know the rest.”  

Alex sat back down, and James wrapped himself around her. “I wish you would have said something. We could have gotten that fucker sooner.”  

“I knew Walker would be watching. I didn’t want to set him off. I wish I had done it different. I really do. But I put my real family first. And disappeared.”  

“But we made it back to each other. Now, we can work together to bring Grey down.”  

NEXT

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#andy's shenanigans #andy's hea #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #the type you save #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fandom #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky x ofc #Steve rogers #detective AU #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes smut #christian grey au #John walker #nate archibald

[nuagederose]

As the Seasons Grey | Chapter Thirty-Five: Love from the Other Side

ao3 link

Alex had lit up a few candles off to the side for his little group there in the backstage area. Though the entire room was well lit from above with the warm fluorescence on the ceiling, he treated them to the warmth of fire on a cold winter’s night. Christine nestled down on the couch in the corner, right across from the candles, and then he joined her right there with a corkscrew in one hand: Nelly had done the honors of opening the fresh new bottle of wine, while he took the corkscrew back to the little set on the floor next to the arm of the couch. Right before the couch stood a narrow heavy wooden coffee table with a loaf of French bread and a small plate of cheeses. She poured the four of them fresh glasses of red wine, which carried a slight fruity smell to it upon the mouth of the bottle.

“Good wine,” Nelly remarked after she took a small sip.

“From Paso Robles, California,” Alex explained as he picked up his glass and took his seat next to Christine. “Right near where the two of them plan on traveling to this summer.”

“Oh, how fun!” Nelly declared; Christine and Eric both picked up their glasses for a sniff of the fruity quality on the grapes. The four of them then followed it up with a toast to each other, right over the table.

“To a great new year,” Alex decreed as he downed a hearty swig of wine.

“To a great new year,” Christine echoed as she took a sip herself: Alex set his glass down on the table before him and rubbed his hands together.

“Who wants bread and cheese?”

“I do!” Eric declared, much to Christine and Nelly’s amusement. Alex had just began to slice into the bread, when they were interrupted by one of the stagehands.

“The other members of the party are here,” he informed them.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right!” Alex said, and he handed a slice of bread over to Christine. Greg and Louie ducked into the room wrapped up in heavy black winter coats.

“Hey! You guys made it.” Alex stood back with a big beaming smile on his face as he gestured for the two boys to come on into the room. “Welcome.”

Christine and Nelly glanced at one another, taken aback.

“I invited them,” Eric told them as Alex handed him a slice of bread. “I ran it by Alex before we left.”

“We got stuck in traffic,” Greg explained as he sank into the seat next to Nelly.

But even if the two of them missed the show, the party after the show proved to be a lovely one. It was early in the evening, and thus, Christine could help herself to her glass of wine, the bread, and a handful of cubes of cheese. She was especially particular on the Havarti and the Roquefort, and she noticed Alex popping in pieces of baby Swiss into his mouth as if it was candy. Nelly, Eric, and Louie all told jokes to one another while Greg told stories about life in California. Next thing she knew, Alex had downed a few slices of bread and a lot of cheese with two glasses of wine. He leaned back next to her with a pleasured smile on his face and a soft twinkle in his eye.

“Do you ever just feel so enamored by your own indulgence that you feel like you just sinned?” he asked her in a low, husky voice.

“Can’t say I have,” she confessed.

“Ah, man, you haven’t lived, dear Christine! It’s the best sorta pleasure you’ve ever…” His voice trailed off.

“Are you drunk?” she asked him with a chuckle.

“No…” Alex bowed his head and held his breath.

“What was that?”

“You know what it was,” he told her with a hearty laugh and a little grin on his face. Christine didn’t even have to think twice about it as he had kicked back a couple of glasses of wine on top of that fresh bread and cheese: he had a full belly topped with that lush wine.

His eyes drooped closed and he leaned in closer to her as if to lay down on her. Christine held onto the side of his face for a little kiss on the cheek.

“I love you and want you,” he sputtered to her. “You are just… everything. I love you and everything you do, dear Christine.” He hiccuped and smiled at her. How she absolutely loved this side of him. She kissed him on the cheek again, that time a firmer peck that tasted of sweetness and wintry warmth.

“Isn’t he cute,” Nelly declared in a sweet voice. Christine gently stroked his chest and kissed him on the neck. She put her arms around him and held him as if he was a big teddy bear.

“He’s got a full tummy and now he’s all sleepy and a little tipsy,” she said. “It’s funny, he only had two glasses of wine.”

“Wow, he’s a lightweight,” Eric decreed as he put his jacket back on and tapped in the back of his wrist towards Christine.

“What time do you have to be home, Chris?” Louie asked her.

“I promised my mom I would be home by ten,” she replied, “which means we better get moving.”

“We just missed the last bus, though,” Nelly pointed out with a glimpse at her watch. “I don’t really feel like taking another cab, either, especially since there’s more of us right now.”

“I’ve got my car,” Greg told her. “It’s got room for all of us.” Alex leaned his head against Christine’s shoulder: she could smell the soft scent on his hair.

“Is he asleep?” Nelly asked with a clearing of her throat and a pat of her hand on his shoulder to stir him awake.

“Huh, what?” Alex shook himself awake. “Nope, nope, nope. I’m awake.” He hiccuped again and ran his fingers through his hair. He stood up before the two women, but he was in no shape to drive or even ride the bus home to Brooklyn. Christine moseyed up next to him to keep him from falling back onto the couch, and she caught him with one arm.

“Let’s take you home, Alex,” she suggested as she put her arm around his shoulders. She lightly patted his belly and kissed him on the neck. “My goodness, you are so warm.”

“I really, really don’t want to go out there to the snow,” he sputtered out with a soft chuckle. Christine cupped his face for a soft kiss on the lips. He was so warm and happy that she had the urge to curl up next to him and make love to him there on the couch. Alex rested his hand on the small of her back and tugged her closer to his warm body. Christine thought of the softest crushed velvet on his chest and his belly as she ran her hand down to the waist of his trousers. She lifted herself up onto her toes to reach his soft lips. 

The sides of his hair swept over the sides of her face as if to protect her from any prying eyes. Since he had plenty to eat and drink, his kiss felt more intoxicating than usual. She thought of a touch of the sky overhead, the caress of the clouds on her skin as it enveloped the two of them together for the softest bed on the back of the earth.

“I feel like I’m reading a copy of Hustler,” Greg joked. Christine held back for a look into Alex’s face and the little smirk that she knew he couldn’t resist from her. She gently patted the sides of his face, and she put her arm around him to guide him over to the door. Nelly’s coat-clad arm reached past Christine’s head to keep the door open for them.

They were met with the lightest of flurries from the menacing orange sky overhead, and Christine could relax at the fact that she told Wendy they were headed home soon, and before any more snow flooded in for the night. Alex shuffled along the sidewalk with Christine nestled up next to him on his left and Nelly with one hand on his right shoulder to keep him steady. Greg skirted past them to the sidewalk up ahead: Christine caught the jingling sound from his right hand, and she watched him scurry him to a low black car parked up near the corner.

Alex hiccuped again, and that time, he let out a low whistle and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I really, really want to curl up under the covers and go to sleep,” he confessed to her.

“You know, I would absolutely love to curl up next to you,” she told him as she put her arms around his waist; he was too tall and thus, she couldn’t kiss him on the neck again. Through the soft light from the street and the city, she could see Nelly showing her a knowing smile.

“A little hard to walk when you’ve got your arms around me,” he told her. She gave him a little squeeze, followed by a gentle pat; Nelly skirted around the front hood of the car as if she was the one to drive. The ceiling light shone down on the black leather seats which sat down low in the car.

“Looks like there’s only room for the five of you,” Alex remarked with another hiccup.

“There’s actually room in the very back of the car,” Greg explained as he zipped up his jacket. Christine gave Alex another little squeeze around his waist before she let him go. He shuffled forth towards Greg, who then guided him to the back of the car. At first, Christine thought he was climbing into the trunk, but rather, it was the way back section, where Alex could lay down for the ride back to Brooklyn.

He rolled onto his back there with his knees bent up.

“Watch your knees,” Greg told him, and he shut the hatch. He gestured for Christine and Nelly to follow him to the car, but then the latter stopped him.

“No, I got it, Greg,” she quipped.

“You sure?” he asked her, slightly baffled.

“I’m all the way uptown anyway,” she told him, even though Christine knew that it was only a few blocks over to Nelly’s apartment complex. It made sense for Greg to drive to drop Nelly off at her place and then drive Alex back home, and then the four of them would return home. But Christine sighed through her nose as Greg handed over the keys and tucked himself in the middle back seat next to Louie: Eric climbed in after and closed the door. Christine climbed into the front seat, and then Nelly slid behind the wheel. All the while, Christine wondered as to how Nelly would come home given she refused a cab back there in the backstage area, and she had never taken the subway that late at night, either.

Once she fired up the car, they began down the busy street once more, all the way back down to the Lower East Side and the Brooklyn Bridge. All the night traffic, the bright lights, the sights and sounds even with the snow and the darkness all around, all of it served as an odd comfort to Christine, who still remained preoccupied with the fact Nelly was driving. Somewhere before the turn onto the bridge, she could hear Alex’s soft snore at the back of the car, which in turn brought a smile out of her. It wasn’t too loud, and she couldn’t help but picture him back there with one hand rested on his belly and his mouth propped open ever so slightly.

Christine peered out the window as the buildings gave way to the entryway of the bridge. The black waters of the East River loomed before her, a constant stretch of cold solid darkness towards the bay. The clouds hung low enough to hide the crown and spires of the Statue of Liberty way off in the distance, but she could rest easy knowing Alex had fallen asleep in the way back part of the car.

The bridge turned into a single street once more, and Nelly led them to his neighborhood, the street with all the trees, all of which were coated in a thick blanket of pure white snow.

Christine climbed out to coax him out of there: she lifted the back hatch and she was met with his soft, slumbering face, accentuated by a thick lock of black hair over his face. She ran her fingertips along his chest in a little circular motion. He groaned in his throat and rolled his head over what looked to be a sleeping bag which he used as a makeshift pillow. His eyes cracked open and he showed her a little smile.

“Mmm… there is a heaven,” he crackled out, and he cleared his throat. Christine offered to help him out of there, but he insisted on climbing out himself. Alex ducked out of the way back, still with a hand on his belly.

“Phew…”

“You’re not going to barf, are you?” she asked him.

“Nah. Just really full, and I was laying on my back the whole entire time, too.” He closed the hatch with his free hand, and Christine walked him back up to his front door. She stood next to him as he took his keys out of hiding and unlocked the door.

“I really am a lightweight, though,” he confessed as he stifled another hiccup. “I’m gonna drink a lot of water once I’m in here and hope nothing bad happens to me.” He nudged the door open, and he turned to her with a sleepy smile on his face. “You have a good night for me.”

“Sweet dreams, baby,” she whispered to him, and he treated her to a soft kiss on the forehead. He kept the smile on his face back to her, all before he bowed into the apartment. She wished she lay next to him all to feel his warmth as she doubled back to the car. Even though she was walking away, she could still feel the warmth in her face as she ducked back into the front seat next to Nelly.

“The two of you are so cute,” she remarked as Christine strapped herself back in. Nelly fired up the car again and they began back to the street which led back to that familiar neighborhood. Christine expected her to turn left, but she instead went straight. Confused, she glanced out her window.

No way Nelly could have missed that, especially when it wasn’t snowing and she had done it before.

“Nelly missed the turn,” Eric whispered into Christine’s ear.

“Yeah, she did,” she whispered back. She returned to Nelly with a clearing of her throat. “Where are we going?”

Nelly never replied as they wound through the streets of Brooklyn. Christine glanced out the window with the expectation to see all of the little neighborhoods between her place and Alex’s apartment building, but everything seemed so monotonous and so unfamiliar to her. No way Nelly could have lost her sense of direction when she had been to Christine’s apartment twice before then.

She swallowed, even with the pounding in her chest. She was with Eric, Greg, and Louie, but they were about to lose themselves with Nelly.

“Where are we going?” Christine demanded, that time in a louder voice.

She heard the seat belts behind her clicking as the three of them unbuckled. She wondered if they were going to open the doors and roll right out to the snow, but they were moving too quickly for her to even consider such a thing, even if it wasn’t her doing it. Christine then clasped onto the steering wheel to stop her.

“Nelly? Where are we going?”

Nelly jerked on the wheel, and they swerved to the left. She then pulled over to the side of the road, right below the on-ramp to the Long Island Expressway. She tugged on the parking lever and turned to Christine with the light from the street lamp on the side of her head: her feathery hair looked as though it had been comprised of pure gold leaf. Even in the darkness, her eyes gleamed.

“Where is Chris buried?” she asked Christine without a change of tone in her voice.

“Huh?” The question caught her off guard.

“Where is he buried?” she asked again; for a second, Christine believed she heard the back doors opening but no sound emerged from the back seat.

“Nelly, it’s almost ten o’clock at night,” she insisted. “Plus, you’ve had a glass of wine and I promised my mom that Eric and I would be home by ten, she’s probably worried sick about us.” Nelly pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows at her. Christine knew right then she was being completely serious. She sighed through her nose and shook her head.

“I don’t remember,” she confessed. “I really don’t—after he died, I shut down and blocked out all of those memories. All I know is he’s way out on Long Island.” She closed her eyes and shook her head again. “You can’t be serious about this, Nelly.”

“I am!” Nelly assured her without a second thought about it. “You know, I figured, he was Jewish and there’s only one cemetery out there that’s based out of a synagogue and it’s out by Calverton.” She glanced back at the back seat, where Eric, Greg, and Louie were all comfortable together now with Alex safe in his apartment. “Now put your seatbelts back on, all four of you.”

With a sigh, Christine clicked her seat belt buckle back in. She wished Alex was next to her again so she could hold him some more. It was too late at night and she knew she would have to explain to her mother what happened afterwards. She had no idea if there was good service out on Long Island, either: a message to Wendy probably wouldn’t arrive until the early hours of the morning.

“Calverton, isn’t that out by the Hamptons?” Greg asked.

“Yeah, it’s like a hundred miles,” Christine muttered.

“Yup, now let’s move it—” Nelly lifted the parking brake, and they rolled forth down the dark street, past the on-ramp and under the overpass. Christine knew they were headed towards Metropolitan Avenue, which would take them all the way out to the dense woods of Long Island and that quiet place that she had left buried in her memory. There was something daunting about going down that way, and more so as Nelly made that left turn. It was a straight shot from Queens out to the countryside. Given Long Island extended out towards the ocean, Christine believed they were headed for the great wide abyss. She didn’t want to face it, especially not at that late at night, and especially when time was of the essence.

The ten o’clock hour had already passed, and her heart sank at the mere thought of having to explain it all to her mother.

But then, there was Alex. She still had yet to tell him about Chris, a daunting task in and of itself.

As the small neighborhoods fizzled out into thick wilderness, she kept on picturing her encounter with him. What made it particularly difficult for her to think about was what his reaction would be once she told the truth.

“I don’t know what I’m going to tell him, Nelly,” she confessed as the Turnpike gave way to Middle Country Road, a narrow two-lane road out to the furthest reach of Long Island. “You know, how am I supposed to break that to him? I couldn’t tell Chris that I was in love with him—how am I supposed to tell Alex about Chris?”

Nelly remained uncannily silent as the road neared the cozy village of Calverton: something told Christine if they ran out of gas, there was no way they could bother anyone there for a place to stay. Long Island in the middle of the night in the heart of winter turned into the middle of nowhere within the drop of a few hours.

A sign emerged on the side of the road: a fine layer of snow covered part of it, but Christine caught a glimpse of the word “synagogue” on the left side.

The cemetery. The Jewish cemetery, and right across the street from a plant nursery which was illuminated by big white floodlights from the ground up.

The patch of bare earth into the graveyard was damp, even with all the snow they had back in the city. Nelly parked there before the gates: even with the bare dirt under the car, Christine could see the blanket of snow over the graveyard and the trees that surrounded the area.

“Best advice I can give is to just relax and say it to him,” Nelly finally said in a soft voice. She craned her neck to the back seat. “Lou, there should be a flashlight under your seat.”

Shuffling caught Christine’s ear, and she closed her eyes and sighed through her nose.

“I don’t know… I don’t feel right about this,” she confessed. “It’s almost midnight, it’s snowing, and the gates look to be locked, too.”

“We’re just gonna look around for him,” Nelly assured her as she took a small light out from the inside of her door. “I mean, it’s not like we’re gonna exhume him and desecrate a Jewish cemetery.”

“There’s a few inches of snow on the ground, too, it’s not like we can anyway,” Eric pointed out. A bright halogen light flickered from the back seat right then.

“Okay,” Nelly announced in a low voice. “Let’s go.”

The wet, cold night air blanketed Christine’s head as she climbed out. She closed her coat and shivered; Eric and Louie stood next to her with the flashlight balanced on his shoulder as if he was carrying water. The former ran his fingers through his hair: she could tell he was uncomfortable as well.

Nelly strode up to the heavy wrought iron gates and nudged on the left one. The hinges squeaked as the gate opened. She held the flashlight up to her head, and she gestured for them to follow her inside.

“Keep an eye out for him,” Eric then told Louie, “for Pereira.”

Christine tugged her hood over her head lest it snow again, and she kept her hands in her pockets as they strode into the cemetery. The sky hung low over their heads, but it was enough to give everything an extra chill, even with the snow in the ground.

“Do you remember where he was buried?” Louie asked her as Eric joined Nelly and Greg at the first row of tombstones on the right side.

“I don’t, no,” Christine confessed. “It was so long ago, and like I said, I pretty much blocked out everything after he died.”

Louie shuddered and adjusted his coat as they stood at the second row of stones at the left side.

“The whole entire time, I was thinking, ‘how’s Nelly even going to get home?’” she admitted.

“Oh, me, too,” he said. “It’s Greg’s car and she didn’t want to take a cab, either.”

“She lives all the way up in the West End, too,” Christine added. “It’ll be two o’clock in the morning before she gets home.”

“My god, really?”

“Yeah. Greg very easily could’ve chauffeured all of us home. But no. We had to come to a graveyard out on Long Island at eleven o’clock at night for some reason.” She sighed through her nose yet again: she knew she had to stop it, but it was useless given they were there and not in the safety of their homes. “To be fair, Nelly did promise me to take me to Chris’ grave. Why now is beyond me, because I could have found a way to hit up his parents over in Monticello and reconnected with them.”

“Yeah, that’s a strange decision to make,” he said as he shone the halogen light in the stones next to them. He then gasped. “Wait, what’s this?”

Christine’s heart skipped a beat when he neared the second stone from the main trail, a small rounded black stone with a thin layer of snow on the front surface, right under a small spindly tree. Louie knelt down to the right of the stone and wiped the snow from the left side for her to see the epitaph for herself:

Christopher Noam Pereira

September 21, 1973 - July 5, 1987

Beloved son, brother, and best friend

Christine gasped as her gaze swept over the engraved words on the little tombstone. Louie held up the flashlight for her to better read the epitaph of Hebrew underneath the main part. All around them, the flurries floated down from the orange sky, but it made no difference to either of them.

“Is this him right here?” Louie asked her in a hushed voice. “I just saw his last name.” But everything seemed to fall away from all around her. She knelt down on the snow bank with one hand on the surface, still smooth as if they had just crafted and polished the stone.

“Hello, my love,” she whispered.

“We found him,” Louie called back behind her. Christine knelt closer to his stone, still with one hand on the engraving, on his first name in particular. Her mind fell blank as her eyes wandered across the Hebrew words at the bottom. To think of all the things that she wanted to do with him as the two of them grew up and grew old together.

Though her mind was initially blank, the flurries on her head and Nelly, Eric, and Greg venturing through the snow behind them let the blackness fall away to give way to her first memory of Chris.

The first day of kindergarten. The slightly older slightly chubby boy with the ill-fitting shirt, and the full, round face and the long dark hair down past his shoulders. He sat down next to her with a smile on his face and the desire to be friends with her. She recalled his eyes, the deep eyes that seemed to stare right through her.

The deep eyes that haunted the back of her mind for nearly two decades. 

The deep eyes that reminded her of Alex.

“Love of my life… my darling, with me… forever…” Her voice floated out from her lips, and yet it seemed disembodied, as if she had dreamed it instead. She felt a hand on her shoulder, but she never lifted her gaze from the epitaph.

It flashed through her mind like a bolt of lightning. The day of the funeral. She recalled Mrs. Pereira crying as the rabbi read the prayer, but then she closed her eyes and surrounded herself in blackness.

“Christine, you’re getting wet,” Nelly’s voice cut through the darkness like a knife.

Christine opened her eyes and turned her head to see Nelly and Eric huddled down next to her like a pair of emperor penguins. With a sniffle, she lifted herself up to her feet and dusted the snow off her pant legs. Nelly let go of her shoulder all the while; through Louie’s flashlight, she could see Nelly wiping away tears. Eric put his arm around Christine, and the five of them trekked back to where they came from, back towards the gates.

Christine remained silent the entire walk back: the flurries softly landed on her head and shoulders, and the snow crunched underneath her boots. She tried to not cry right then given the cold, and she had no idea if her tears would freeze upon her face, simply because she had her worries that everyone back in Queens would be able to see the girl with the frozen tears and have nothing but questions for her.

Greg nudged the gates so they could all file back out to the road. Not a single car traversed out before them: the lights at the nursery across the street filtered through the flurries and the incoming low clouds which in turn gave them a ghostly feeling. He continued to haunt her, though she wanted to uncover the memories.

To exhume the memories from under the blanket of snow.

Nelly reached the driver’s side door first and unlocked it with the help of Louie’s flashlight from behind her. Eric let go of Christine and opened the door for her.

She quietly thanked him as she climbed inside: she knocked her boots together to rid of the snow before she slid inside all the way. She dusted off the extraneous snow from the crown of her head before she closed the door. The boys climbed into the back seat and shut the doors on either side. Nelly climbed in and shook her feathery hair about.

She let out a loud sigh.

“I have… no words,” Nelly confessed. She turned her attention to Christine, who gazed out the windshield to the snow-covered bushes and the dark road up ahead. Though the village was up the road, she couldn’t help but imagine it extending out to the ocean. Chris was buried within range of the ocean.

“Christine?” Nelly asked her. Her bottom lip trembled. Seventeen years. Seventeen years gone. Seventeen years and she never found the chance to tell him the truth.

“Christine? Are you alright?”

She couldn’t stop her bottom lip from trembling. She swore that she was going to cry frozen tears right there in the car, but there wasn’t enough cold inside of there for her to even consider it. Nevertheless, the first tear fell from her right eye, the tears that had been locked away for nearly seventeen years. Her shoulders shuddered from the sudden welling of water within her. It was as if someone had switched on the hose and broke off the handle.

She bowed her head and cupped her face in her hands, and she wept right there in the front seat. She sniffled and let it out even louder, as loud as she could without waking the dead.

“We should go,” Eric said to Nelly, who then promptly started up the car. She sank back into the seat with her face buried in her sleeves so her tears would remain liquid. Or so they wouldn’t have to see her this way.

Christine wept the entire ride home. She had enough tears to last a hundred miles and then some.

#Spotify #as the seasons grey #as the seasons grey fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic with art #chapter 35 #traditional art #traditional drawing #colored pencil #testament #testament band #alex skolnick #eric peterson #greg christian #louie clemente #oc art #oc tag #artists on tumblr #badgalnirvhannahart

[hb-writes]

Opportunities

Summary: Emma finds out her brother has been lying to her about her biological father, but Christian doesn’t know everything. 

Characters: Christian Grey & Emmeline Grey (OC), w/ Taylor, Ms. Jones, and Ryan.

Content Warning: general angst, cursing, sibling fight (shouting and a bit of manhandling), mentions of past child abuse/ estranged family members, adoptive family relationships, some (canon, I think) overly-controlling behavior from Christian in the name of protecting people he cares about.

Request (by anon): 47 of the I hate you prompts... I am imagining Emma accidentally walking in on her brother’s meeting and being slapped in the face with that 😳 that’s so mean omg

Here’s the AO3 link if you prefer to read over there.

Fifty Shades (Emmeline Grey) Masterlist

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Please take a moment to tell me what y'all think! Reviews and comments are always appreciated. 😌❤️

Emmeline barely remembered the journey across town. She had made it all the way from school to Escala in record time, traversing the city streets with little caution despite the harsh rain...and the rush hour traffic...She had still made it to Christian's doorstep before her psychology class was even due to be over. 

She was lucky she hadn't gotten pulled over somewhere along the way. Lucky she hadn't crashed the car her best friend had let her borrow for the purpose. Lucky she had slipped away before Ryan noticed she was no longer learning about operant conditioning. 

But Emmeline wasn't feeling lucky.

If she had to place an emotion, something she had yet to even consciously attempt, she would have settled on anger. That was the one at the forefront of her mind, the one to blame for the steady shake in her limbs and the warmth she felt throughout her whole body, the one that had her taking shallow, unsatisfying breaths and pacing in the small space of the elevator as it crawled toward the penthouse.

She wanted to cry, the tears borne out of confusion and hurt and frustration, but she tried not to. She endured the searing pain in her throat and swallowed down everything that meant to consume her. She willed herself to remain focused on her outrage, to which she felt entirely justified. She knew well enough there was something else building up behind the more righteous parts of her anger, but Emmeline wasn't sure she could manage the rest of it. Not now. Not yet.

The elevator doors weren’t yet fully open when she squeezed through. Her mind remained settled on her brother's home office—on getting there, on getting to him, on letting him have it, on letting Christian take on some of what she was holding, some of what he’d settled her with through his lies and withholding…his precious protection. Things Christian seemed to think were well within his right to inflict on those within his grasp simply because he could. Because he had the means and the power. Because he knew what was best. And while Emmeline wasn't sure what exactly she intended to say when she saw him, she figured there was enough bottled up inside of her that everything pertinent would eventually work its way out.

Ms. Jones set aside the salad she was preparing and stepped out from behind the kitchen island to greet the girl. Ms. Jones was staff, but she was practically family. Emmeline knew she owed the woman a modicum of respect—a dash more than the meager slowing of pace she'd allotted as she passed through the kitchen, but she couldn't bring herself to give any. The words she directed the housekeeper’s way lacked any reciprocal greeting, any warmth. Emmeline cut Ms. Jones off in the middle of her hello.

"He's here?" Emmeline asked, nodding her head toward the hallway ahead. 

"Miss Grey.” Ms. Jones pressed her lips into a line before giving her a smile. She knew. Emmeline shouldn’t have been surprised. She supposed all of the staff—and probably all of their family as well—knew they were arguing. They knew Christian’s side of things, at least. “Mr. Grey is—"

"Here?" Emmeline suggested. She stopped walking, then she turned and waited for Ms. Jones to confirm. “Christian’s home?” Emmeline forced her hands to unclench as they hung at her sides. She dropped her heavy bag on the counter when Ms. Jones finally nodded, her laptop thudding carelessly against the marble. 

She started off once again in the direction of her brother’s office, a gruff thank you tossed over her shoulder to the housekeeper. The pounding of Emmeline’s heart hammered as loud as the click of her heel across the marble floors as she went.

The door to Christian’s office was closed, but not locked and Emmeline pushed the door open without a thought. She had long ago lost count of how many times Christian had gotten after her for not knocking before entering a room, but surely she knew better. His voice always rose whether she was barging into the middle of a private call or a meeting or, as happened most often, interrupting his sacred train of thought. 

He had asked after his privacy since the time Emmeline was a little. As an unknowing child, Emmeline was prone to bounding through the bedroom doors of her teenage siblings without a thought. She hadn't understood their exasperation until she was old enough to value it for herself. 

Emmeline knew it was a request she should have heeded. Christian often attended to it for her—the knocking, at least. His patience with waiting for her to admit him came with varying results depending on the situation, but he at least gave a bit of fair warning either way. 

Stepping over the threshold to Christian’s office, Emmeline prepared herself for a fight. Her body tensed as a few different opening statements flooded her mind. Each of them was not quite right, not nearly enough of what she wanted to say. She hoped the right words would come to her once her brother mounted his argument, but as she stepped forward into Christian’s office, no argument rose to meet her. 

A set of unfazed glances was the only thing to meet her sudden presence in the room. Her arrival held their attention for only a second or so before Christian looked back to the computer screen. Taylor’s gaze followed shortly after without either of them sparing a word to acknowledge her.

Emmeline expected her presence to elicit a bit more of a reaction from her brother. Of which sort of reaction...she wasn't so certain, but his indifference somehow felt unfair. It was both condescending and like an assault at the same time. And considering all that Emmeline was holding, the snub made her feel more justified. 

Emmeline cleared her throat, straightening her back and shoulders. She grew no taller, no stronger, but the gesture fortified her words, her resolve. 

"We need to talk,” she said.

Christian pulled his gaze up again as his sister took a step forward. The tilt of his head posed a question, the heave of his chest an admission of his weariness. They were both gestures Emmeline ignored or missed entirely.

"Not now." Christian shook his head and looked back to the computer. "I'll find you when Taylor and I are—"

"Yes, now!" Emmeline stepped further into the room, her boot stomping down on the hardwood as she went. “Right fucking now, Christian!"

Christian’s gaze remained on his sister this time. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to take another breath. He rolled his neck in a small circle, relieving the tension before he focused on his sister again. "Excuse me?"

Emmeline was nearly at the edge of Christian’s desk now. She was quickly running out of space to close between them with her steps, quickly running out of volume in her voice, too. She felt the threat of untamable emotion rise within her. "Don't act like you didn't hear—" 

Christian cleared his throat. A manilla folder sat open beside him, beside the laptop. He closed the folder and laced his fingers, continuing to stare at his sister throughout. His demeanor was so calm and still that Emmeline forgot herself for a moment. A dryness settled in her mouth as her stomach churned. She swallowed a lump in her throat. She wished she could forge on. She wanted to pick up her words right where she’d left off, but she couldn’t quite remember what she’d wanted to say. Not a single one of the points that had flooded her mind while she lingered near the threshold came to her now.

Taylor reached for the laptop and file as he stood up. “I’ll give you two the room, Mr. Grey.” 

"No, Taylor. You stay.” Christian shook his head before meeting his sister’s eye. “Emmeline was just—"

Something in hearing Christian utter her full name in that particular tone shook her loose. Emmeline swallowed down the sickness rising in her throat and shook her head. She took another step forward to reach the front edge of Christian’s desk. "I’m not going anywhere. We need to talk and you're not just going to push me off, so don't talk over me and don't act like you didn't hear—"

"Oh, I heard you," Christian said. He pushed his chair back as he stood up. 

Emmeline leaned away from him despite knowing the desk was safely settled between them. 

"I was offering you the opportunity to take a moment to consider what you will accomplish by barging into my office like this. Would you still like that opportunity?"

Some part of Emmeline paused at his words. It was a threat posed as a calm, yet condescending, question. But more than the words, it was something in Christian's tone that always got to her. Something in the timbre and intonation sent reason and logic and self-preservation out the window. 

When he spoke to her like that, it always made an infuriating fight take her over and Emmeline scoffed at Christian’s offer now. 

"If either of us needs an opportunity to reassess what they're doing, it's you." Her hands gestured wildly, supplementing her words to release the frustration that speech alone could not.

She swallowed as her brother stepped around the side of the desk, but her eyes didn't stay on him. Instead, she considered the file he’d closed moments before. He’d left it unattended. She somehow knew that file was exactly what she wanted. 

No, not wanted—it was what she needed. 

It was the file that held the information Christian was keeping from her, the information about the man believed to be her biological father. The one Christian had told her was locked away. The one Christian had told her wanted nothing to do with her. It was information about who he was. Where he was. It was hers for the taking.

Christian had told her only lies about the man, but the truth was right there in black and white. Emmeline fixated on it, her mind imaging the feel of the manilla folder and the freshly printed documents stashed inside, imagining what it would be to read and know the truth. Her distraction lasted only a few seconds at most, but every second her gaze lingered a searing burn grew within her limbs. 

Every piece of her was on fire.

She reached for the folder, but Christian stepped in front of her before she could shift. He caught her wrist in his hand and held her close.

"Let me see it,” she said, her voice nearly cracking, the words coming out as a plea more than an order. Emmeline tried to pull out of Christian’s grasp, twisting and pushing harshly though his grip was gentle. She hadn’t realized.

His hands shifted to grasp both of Emmeline’s arms. He tried to move her back, away from the desk. "Em, you don't have any need—" Christian started. His words were gentle now, too, but she couldn’t hear the nuance. 

"It's my file..." Emmeline shouted, continuing to fight against him, his hold seemingly searing against her skin. "He’s…he’s my...he's my family, Christian."

My family. 

Christian swallowed at the words and he dropped his hold on her. He was almost surprised by the flash of anger they brought on. Those particular words generated more anger and fear than her slipping away from her security. More frustration was borne from the words than her journey across Seattle at 80 miles per hour. The phrase angered him more than the vexing show of attitude and rebellion he was receiving from her now.

"You really think—” Christian gestured to the folder. “—that man is your family?" he asked, nearly shouting it, the slimy film of disgust coating his words so thick that it couldn’t be missed or confused.

Christian wanted to understand where his sister was coming from. Some part of him wanted to empathize. He wanted to see her point of view, but he was falling short. He didn’t get it. Emmeline had never known her biological father. He was a worse sort of human than her mother’s boyfriend had been and that was a trauma his sister actually could remember. That should have been explanation enough for her to understand why Christian wanted to keep him away from her. 

And the man had never had any interest in her all these years, not until he found out who had adopted her, what she was worth. Not that the ransom his family could afford to pay came anywhere close to what she was worth to them. 

This man, her supposed father, was dangerous. Even after years in prison, the man had connections. He had power. Couldn’t Emmeline see she was better off not knowing him? Couldn’t she understand why he was doing this? He was only protecting her. The less she knew of the man, the less she would feel inclined to connect with him, and the better off she would be. 

It wasn’t an easy truth. Christian knew what it was to wonder after his own parents, the father he never knew, the mother he’d lost while still so young. It had taken years of therapy to sort. In truth, he was still sorting it out, and he had over a decade of progress on Emmeline’s journey when it came to that. 

There was no threat of them losing her, not legally. Emmeline was too close to her eighteenth birthday. That wasn’t what Christian was afraid of. Not even if she had been younger. No judge in their right mind would pull a child from the family who had raised and provided for her for a decade and a half to settle her in the care of a criminal with no means or prospects. 

But Christian knew the man. He knew what he was. He knew the things the man had done, the things they couldn’t put him away for—the murders and the kidnappings that were there behind the formal charges he’d served time for. Christian knew the things he was capable of now. Maybe it wasn’t fair to define a man by the things he’d done, but if the best predictor of future behavior was past behavior, then…

The man believed to be Emmeline’s father was a murderer. A kidnapper. A blackmailer and an extortionist. And Emmeline was worth too much to them for Christian to risk it, especially now that he was out of prison. 

He had told her only enough of the situation to keep her safe, to explain the increased security. Christian had told her that someone had reached out and he told her the basics. He figured that would be enough to scare her off of it, but he should have known better. 

Had Paul Robbin’s letter come to Escala, or even to their parents’ home, Christian knew things could have been very different. If the letter hadn’t come to his office—to his hands first—Emmeline could have received it. She could have found it. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find his sister come up with a plan to see him, to meet him. It made him sick to imagine what could have happened, what still could. 

"Mr. Grey?” Taylor prompted, the interruption pulling the eyes of both siblings as Taylor’s gaze remained trained on the computer screen. “You should see this."

Christian dropped Emmeline’s arm and moved far enough around the desk to view the screen. He pulled the file from Emmeline’s reach as he went. Christian pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment as he watched the security footage on the screen. 

They’d been tracking his movements since his release two weeks before. He’d stayed local up until three days ago. It had been unclear where he was heading, but there was no question now. Emmeline’s father was making his way to Seattle. And Christian knew why. There was no other reason for him to leave California. No reason for him to travel North.

He was coming for Emmeline. 

And there was no way Christian would let that happen. There was no way that man was learning more than he already knew. Emmeline may have been inclined to indulge in her sympathies…their parents, too, had argued for the more humane reasons to consider allowing her connection with the man who had never even been listed on her birth certificate, but Christian knew better. 

"You're to have nothing to do with that man, Emmeline. And it's not going to be a discussion. You’ll take security with you wherever you go and—"

“I’ve already had contact!” Emmeline held up her blackberry, her hand shaking with rage. “You don’t control everything. You don’t know everything. You don’t control everyone!” Christian grabbed her hand and the phone, holding them both still so he could read the wall of text sent from an unknown number, a perfectly crafted message of pleas and promises. 

Christian ripped the phone from her hand. “You’re not responding to that. I’ll get you a new phone number and the rest of what I said stands. Increased security. Ryan goes everywhere with—”

"No! You don’t get to just make decisions like that. Taylor, tell him he's—"

"Miss Grey.” Taylor did not need to say more than those two words. It was clear in his tone whose side he intended to fall on, conciliatory even in just issuing her name. Emmeline was familiar enough with the practice. She got on well with her brother’s head of security, but he was just that—her brother’s. Taylor’s loyalty was spoken for, paid for, but that couldn’t stop her from arguing the point. 

"You can't actually tell me you agree with him? Just because he signs your checks doesn't mean you can't have an opinion—"

"Emmeline, that's enough," Christian interrupted her badgering, hoping he could stop her. He needed her to stop.

"No, it's not enough. You think you’re in charge of the whole fucking world. That you know best about everything, but if I want to see him, you and Taylor can't just—"

“It’s enough, Emmeline," Christian ground out. "The smart people are talking. It's time to shut up."

Christian wasn't sure if it was the sentiment, the tone, or the step he took in Emmeline’s direction, but she finally listened, finally heeding his request. Emmeline stood before her brother in silence, her mouth pressed in a straight line. 

"Thank you, Emma,” Christian said, his tone softer now as he acknowledged her compliance and pocketed his sister’s phone. Part of him regretted the words. He hadn’t meant to say them, but they'd been building up inside as Emmeline badgered him and Taylor. He had needed a moment’s quiet to think, to speak. He needed her to go so he and Taylor could develop a plan.

"Ms. Jones can prepare you something to eat. We will discuss this when Taylor and I finish."

Christian returned to his spot beside Taylor, shifting his attention back to the computer as he leaned into the desk. With her lack of immediate argument, he considered the matter settled, but Emmeline shook her head, following him back toward the desk, regaining the steps she’d lost. 

"I'm not hungry," she said, the words quiet, but firm. 

"Fine.” Christian took a deep breath. He refrained from shaking his head or pinching the bridge of his nose again though both gestures were calling to him. “Go wait in your room, then. I will come to find you when—"

"No.” Emmeline shook her head. “No. You can't just send me away, Christian. We need to—"

Christian scoffed, turning toward her once again "Alright, you want to talk?" 

He pushed himself up off the desk, straightening to his full height. "How about we start with the fact that you're supposed to be in a psychology lecture right now? Or the fact that you tried to ditch your security once again? Or how about that joy ride you took across the city just now? Because all those conversations, along with the one about this goddamned attitude of yours, are happening first...Long before whatever conversation you think you and I are going to be having, so unless you’re ready for those conversations, get out.” 

Christian had taken a step closer with every question, his aim to move her back, but Emmeline held her ground, considering her options as her brother continued.

“Emmeline, you can either go out with Ms. Jones or you can go to your room, but Taylor and I have work to do. We’ll talk about this later.”

“I want my phone back.” 

“You’ll be getting a new one.” 

“And what am I supposed to do until then?” she asked. “I have plans this afternoon and I have to return—”

“No.” Christian shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere. Someone will return Miss Harmon’s car and I’ll get you a new phone, but you’re staying here until we figure this out.” 

Emmeline felt the futility of continuing to fight, but she couldn’t let it go. Her phone was gone from her, but the file was still accessible to her and she needed something. “At least let me—” Emmeline saw an opportunity and took it, reaching for the file once again.

Christian caught her arm. “There’s nothing in that file you need to know. The less you know of him, the better.” 

Emmeline fought against Christian’s hold as he moved her toward the door, and something seemed to break down in her, all of the still-pent-up emotional energy coming out through hot, angry tears and a surge of energy pulling to release Christian’s grip. Christian recognized the change and he tried to be gentle. He tried to keep the frustration out. “You’re free to go where you please within the building, but—”

Emmeline turned, loosening Christian’s grip enough to shove hard against his chest, angry tears flowing freely as she tried to hurt him, trying to transfer some of her pain through her words and her fists. “Just because you never knew your father, doesn’t mean you can keep me from mine.”

Christian huffed out an incredulous breath. He caught Emmeline’s wrists before she could bang against him another time. “Your room it is, then," he said as he moved his sister the final few steps towards the open door. He easily passed her to Ryan’s waiting arms. "Ryan, please escort Miss Grey to her room.” 

Emmeline tried to fight. She still wanted to argue, but it was useless arguing with a closed door. Ryan prompted her, issuing her name and holding out an arm to guide her away from Christian’s office. Emmeline shrugged out of his hold and walked towards her bedroom as the hot tears continued to fall. It wasn’t worth it. Arguing with Ryan was only slightly more productive than arguing with the door. She wouldn’t be getting her phone or leaving Escala. She wouldn’t be getting the file or the truth. Emmeline knew she had lost those opportunities when Christian shut the door in her face, or maybe she had never had them to begin with.

She didn’t even know if she wanted to meet the man who was supposedly her father. All this fighting and hurt was over a man she wasn’t even sure of, only curious about. Emmeline knew it was more about the lies than anything else. It was more about being able to make choices for herself. It was more about decisions being made without her opinions and thoughts being taken into account. It was more about a life’s worth of opportunities she was being denied. As many opportunities as her mother and father and siblings had given her—all of the education and love and support—Emmeline couldn’t help but think they’d taken away just as many, closing a number of doors in her life in the name of safety and what they thought was best. 

Maybe Christian was right. Maybe Paul Robbins wasn’t worth it. Maybe he was dangerous and she’d be better off without, but Emmeline had the right to decide on that for herself. She deserved an opportunity to know him if she wanted. She deserved to at least be a person in the room when decisions about her life were being made. 

Emmeline slammed her bedroom door as she came through it, not a care spared for how close Ryan may have been following behind her. She knew she wasn’t taking out her frustration on the person she wished to, but the reach of her agency had been so diminished, that she held tight to what power and choice she did have. Despite her brother’s decrees, Emmeline knew it should be up to her to decide which doors—which opportunities—remained open and which she wanted to close.

—

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[jouceras]

UPDATED STATIC TOUCH SUMMARY

╰┈➤ :·.ϟ 𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛 Christian Grey is in the middle of a feud between two powerful forces. His former fiancé and the Dark Army. ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ BECOMING CAPTURED UNDER less than fortunate circumstances, Christian Grey has to act fast. Otherwise he will lose the one person he cares the most about. His lover, Tyrell Wellick. Being the underdog in all situations, Christian Grey has to turn to unlikely allies. To top it all off, he's on the run from American authorities. Which has unknown reasons to want him dead or put on trial. Tyrell's enemies are coming ever closer, for every second. And Christian has to use every arsenal he has available. Nothing is off the table to get what Christian wants. But will it be enough?

can be read on ao3 or wattpad.

#writers on tumblr #writeblr #fanfic #wattpad #ao3 #fanfiction writer #writeblr community #fanfic writer #ao3 writer #wattpad writer #rare pair #crossoverfanfiction #crossover #chrisrell #christian grey x tyrell wellick #fifty shades of grey #fiftyshadesofgreyfanfic #mrrobotfanfic #mrrobot #christian grey #tyrell wellick

[bluecupcakeslover]

Been writing my 50 shades fanfic for a week on fanfiction.net and it's already at 3k reads! yippee 😄

#amwriting #fanfiction #fifty shades of grey #fifty shades trilogy #fifty shades darker #fifty shades freed #anastasia grey #christian grey #el james

[petrichor-idyllic]

Vol and Friends Information | The Maze Runner Fanfic Concept

This is a character and idea I wrote a long time ago and found sitting in my drafts. So, I figured I would finally share her with you guys. Character writing is my thing and I thought I should post something since I've been so inactive.

UNIVERSE WRITING NOTES

As most of you know, the Maze Runner movies and books are actually quite different from each other. Of course, I prefer the books but there are some things I think the movies do better, so I've decided to use aspects from both the books and the movies to use in this potential fanfiction.

From the Movies

Takes a couple of days to recall names.

Layout of the Glade/the Maze is the same.

Characters look like their Movie counterparts for the sake of simplicity.

The Grievers look how they're depicted.

Alby is kinder and less brutal like how he's depicted in the movies.

The Gladers have been there for three years (as of the arrival of Thomas, the story starts a year before the end.)

From the Books

The Beetle Blades exist and are how the Creators observe the Glade.

Thomas and Teresa have their telepathic connection and psychic style dreams/flashbacks exist.

Minho is more sarcastic like how he is depicted in the book.

Grievers don't only come out at night. Whilst not as common, Grievers are active during the day. The Runners have encountered them many times.

The Changing isn't rare to go through and the Gladers already have the serum provided by the Creators.

The Box comes up once a week with supplies and once a month with a new Greenie.

I thought it would be smart to clarify and show the best aspects of both media.

GENERAL CHARACTER INFORMATION

Protagonist Name: Vol

Named after: Voltaire; François-Marie Arouet, also known as M. de Voltaire was a French Enlightment writer, historian and philosopher in the 1700s. He was famous for his wit, and his criticism of Christianity (especially of the Roman Catholic Church) and of slavery. Voltaire was an advocate of freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and separation of church and state.

Subject: A0 "The Trespasser"

Sex: Female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: Unlabeled

Age: 17-19, exact age is unknown

Job: Builder, then later a Med-jack

Appearance:

Face claim: Iva Varvarchuk

About 5'4" with a slim but lean build, she has white skin with freckles and some scarring. She has brown almond eyes and dark eyebrows. She has short, slightly messy brown hair that is often tied half up half down or pulled back in a tight messy french braid. She wears whatever clothes she can get her hands on, but is normally seen wearing the worn leather jacket and off-white hoodie combo that she came up in the box in. She also can be found wearing the grey tank top and baggy cargo pants she arrived in.

Personality: Vol is fiery and critical with a slight violent streak and a drive to do what's right. She believes strongly in equality and that she is just as capable as her male counterparts. She has no problem putting the boys in their places if they stare for too long or make an inappropriate comment. She often gets in arguments for her beliefs and ideas and isn't above going against the Keepers and Alby to get her point across. She's often described as "too smart for her own good"; her intelligence and quick nature often being a tense point in the Glade. Her intelligence is also exaggerated by her suspiciously good biology knowledge. She's very easily frustrated, especially when people don't listen to her. Despite being very critical and harsh, she can't always take what she dishes out; Vol struggles to take valid criticism and is quick to become defensive as she takes most things to heart. Due to her politically charged nature, she's often routing for the underdog and has a soft spot for Greenies and struggling Gladders- she's almost always willing to risk her mental and physical health for anyone that needs it. She's also beyond willing to jump to anyone's defence should she believe they need it. Because of this, she becomes somewhat of a big sister figure in the Glade- caring but sarcastic and occasionally violent. When she's around the few people she actually looks up to/admires, she becomes more relaxed. She's genuinely witty and often makes jokes that go over people's heads, but she's not nearly as reckless and cutthroat. She tries to lighten the mood after rough days and try and lift spirits, especially after the dreary repetition the Runners go through. She even makes flirty comments and jokes just to watch the boys squirm. Though, the pressure can get too much, especially after certain events skyrocket her into more popularity and conflict than she'd already managed.

OTHER ORIGINAL CHARACTERS

LEO

Name: Leo

Named after: Leonardo Da Vinci - Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci (15 April 1452 – 2 May 1519) was an Italian polymath of the High Renaissance who was active as a painter, draughtsman, engineer, scientist, theorist, sculptor, and architect.

Subject: A17 "The Deliquent"

Sex: Male

Pronouns: He/him

Age: 16 - 18

Sexuality: Bisexual

Relationship to Vol: Friend

Job: Slicer

Appearance:

Face Claim: Benjamin Wadsworth

About 5'11" and with a pretty strong build. He has tanned skin and several scars and can often be found stained with blood.

Personality: He's extroverted and boisterous, often causing problems and liking being the centre of attention. He's weak-willed and doesn't seem to care about leaving as much as the other boys. He doesn't get along with Minho and most of the Runners for this reason. He's a thorn in Alby's side and has a record for breaking most of the rules- the Slammer is basically his home. He can be incredibly overprotective and forward with his feelings and opinions. He loves to argue and get a rise out of people. He is a definition problem child.

OTTO

Name: Otto

Named after: Otto Hahn - a German Scientist known as the "Father of nuclear chemistry."

Subject: A23 "The Shield"

Sex: Male

Pronouns: He/they (the latter going unused in the Glade)

Age: 16 - 18

Sexuality: Homosexual

Relationship to Vol: Best friend/found brother

Job: Track-hoe

Appearance:

Face Claim: Unknown model

About 6'1" and very skinny. He has slightly crooked teeth and a slit in his eyebrow.

Personality: Otto is more timid and introverted than his counterparts. He lives is Vol and Leo's shadow, opting to just be known as the boy that came up with the girl than making a name for himself. He's kind of a pushover and can be talked into pretty much anything. He kind of a hopeless romantic but he's fueled by logic, providing a much needed level-headedness to his friends, especially when Vol is worked up and willing to go along with Leo's schemes.

DALTON

Name: Dalton

Named after: John Dalton - An English chemist best know for introducing the atomic theory into chemistry.

Subject: A19 "The Statue"

Sex: Male

Pronouns: He/him

Sexuality: Asexual/Aromantic

Relationship to Vol: Friend/Body Guard

Job: Bulider

Appearance:

Face claim: Mukasa Kakonge

About 6'4" and well-built. He towers over most of the other Gladers. Has a lot of scars on his hands from his job.

Personality: Dalton is the quietest one of the group. He prefers to stick to himself and the only reason he's social at all is because Leo was the Greenie before him, and had to show him around - now they're friends. Though, unlike Otto, he isn't timid. He has a very intimidating presence and simply doesn't care for the Gladers' conversations or opinions. He is very protective of the people he does care about, though, and isn't scared to intervene when the others get themselves in trouble.

RELATIONSHIPS TO VOL

Friends

Otto: After waking up in the Box, Otto was lost and dazed but had enough common sense to try and wake up the teenage girl who was also passed out. After that, Vol took to protecting her timid friend and is often the more offensive of the pair despite her being the odd one out. Otto is the only person she truly trusts because they're the only person that she's knows for sure is in the same situation as her.

Leo: Vol meets Leo during her trial as a Slicer. He offers her advice and helps out, giving her tricks and ways to make the job easier. He's also the person that convinced Vol to ask Newt about becoming a Med-jack due to her anatomy knowledge. He's more laid-back than most of the Gladers around her so she gains some respect for him and they quickly become friends. Though, Leo quickly shows himself as a bad influence, causing problems in Vol's other relationships. But, due to Leo's unfaltering loyalty, she sticks by him.

Dalton: He kind of came as a deal package with Leo. Vol wasn't sure what to think of him at first, but Dalton proved to be a big softy that would crush anyone that got too close to her, and the pair became close fairly quickly.

Newt: Like most of the Gladers, his relationship with Vol is few and far between as she's got her own little group and she chooses to spend time with them. That being said, Newt is probably one of her more favoured people in the Glade. He's one of the most respectful Gladers and he helps where he's needed, even if he can be sarcastic and nihilistic.

Alby: Alby is more of a leader than a friend to Vol, probably because he is. Though, he does have a soft spot for the girl and sees the same admirable traits in her that he saw in Minho when he first assigned him as the Keeper of the Runners. He tends to keep an eye on her so that he can make sure none of the boys are causing her problems.

Frypan: Due to his small crush on the girl, Frypan is very kind and understanding towards Vol, often letting her vent and giving her extra food under the table. Because of his kindness, Vol occasionally helps out in the kitchen, even delivering and making food for the Runners before they go out into the Maze for the day.

Chuck: She becomes somewhat a mother figure to Chuck, her need to protect and look after him coming to the forefront of their relationship. She's definitely one of Chuck's favourite people in the Glade.

Jeff and Clint: Her coworkers who try and keep her out of trouble. She likes them both equally and appreciates their help and the lack of questioning of her abilities.

Love Interest: Minho

Kinda Enemies to Lovers.

They got off to a bad start when Vol tried to escape the Glade on her first day and Minho had to stop her.

She punched him in the jaw and had a meltdown.

She tried to apologise once she'd calmed down (and Ably made her) but Minho was just sarcastic and bitter. Due to her stubborn nature, she insulted him and stormed off.

Leo's negative opinion of the Runners only adds to this.

Tension lies in physical attraction and occasional staring at first.

Minho comes to admire her morals.

She comes to admire his work ethic.

The pair argue for fun, but no one else seems to notice the spark behind their sarcastic exchanges.

Alby thinks they don't like each other because they're too similar.

Which is exactly why Newt thinks they do like each other.

Other

Gally: The pair got off to a rough start on her trail as a Builder, and then later arguments during her time as a Builder, so there is some tension between them. She eventually comes to admire Gally and his passionate and caring ways, even if he doesn't show it in the best way. She finally starts to respect him as a Keeper, even if their frenemy status still remains.

Thomas: A late arrival to the Glade, she tried to be kind to Thomas when he appears but since he moves at a million miles an hour and is more reckless than she is, she's normally too busy to spend time listening to his antics.

Teresa: Initially, she was beyond pleased to have another girl in the Glade, but overall they don't spend much time together apart from Vol attempting to befriend the girl, who's all too interested in thinking up ideas with Thomas.

Ben: Since he's a Runner and spends a lot of time with Minho, the pair have had a fair few conversations and he witnesses a lot of arguments. He actually likes siding with her because he enjoys annoying Minho. But she wouldn't exactly consider him a friend.

Winston: He's a Glader she sees around and doesn't really talk to. He seems nice enough and she has nothing against him.

Zart: The same applies to Zart as it does Winston.

#🍃 petri tmr #🌿 petri's ocs #tmr #the maze runner

[danielfuckingricciardo]

Why Anita Driver should be Stopped - An Essay(ish) Post

Hi. So I don’t often do long posts like this, you probably know me as a fic writer and shitposter, but this situation has been irking me since I first read about it and so I only felt it right to explain why.

First off, I wanna say that I understand what she’s doing (I’m going to refer to Anita as she/her throughout this though I have no clue on the author’s actual gender identity). I think she’s very intelligent, using pastiche and parody to create content tailored towards a certain specific audience.

But as someone who knows their fandom history, and has moved in fanfiction circles for over 10 years, the attention one specific book I’m not going to refer to by title because I may throw up in my mouth a little, has received has me very worried for F1 RPF writers as a whole.

RPF has always been a main stay of fanfiction culture. Though there are many ‘antis’ who think it’s wrong and inappropriate to write about real people, RPF fandoms, think One Direction, BTS etc have always been some of the biggest out there.

And I’m sure you’ve seen as popular fan works such as the ‘After’ series by Anna Todd and ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ by E.L. James have transitioned from fan work into published original novels.

Because of this, fan works are booming. Fanfiction is less of a dirty little secret now, confined to locked sites and email chains, but is something that many people know about even if they don’t consume it themselves.

And so, enter Anita Driver. Capitalising on the BookTok trend of ‘spicy’ fiction (what I would call erotica), the author has taken it upon herself to self publish a novel in that similar style but using Daniel Ricciardo not just as inspiration, but as the main protagonist.

I get what she’s trying to do, I really do. I can see that it’s parody, it’s not meant to be taken seriously, but firstly it’s illegal and secondly it really puts fanfiction communities at risk.

Part One: Defamation

Legally, you can’t take someone else’s identity and profit off of it without their explicit consent to do so. There’s a reason Harry Styles became Hardin Scott, and Edward Cullen became Christian Grey. That’s someone else’s intellectual property, or their identity. You cannot legally make a profit out of that. The subject could quite easily build a lawsuit against the author, and the author would have no grounds for defence. There’s a reason AO3 do not allow you to share fundraising links or anything else similar to that, and it’s to protect themselves and the authors against possible lawsuits.

I’d also just like to add that there’s plenty of erotic F1 inspired books out there. I haven’t read them myself but I know that the ‘Dirty Air’ series draws inspiration from current drivers on the grid, but doesn’t explicitly mention anyone real by name! Every character is the intellectual property of the author, it is original fiction that can safely make a profit.

By using Daniel Ricciardo’s image and personality, Anita Driver is putting herself at risk, in this case, not for theft of intellectual property, but of defamation. I haven’t read the book, of course I haven’t read the book, but I can easily believe that the content within could be considered to be defamatory as it may damage public perceptions of him. Now I’m no expert on law, I took a semester of media law and that’s it, but people have definitely sued for less.

In U.K. law (which I’m going off because I know the most about it) “A statement is not defamatory unless its publication has caused or is likely to cause serious harm to the reputation of the claimant.” (x) It could easily be said that portraying Daniel in this way would cause damage to his reputation. We know his image isn’t squeaky clean, but having this book using his name could easily lead people to believe that he was in some way associated with its production. I don’t think anyone would like their public perception to be that they actively encourage and fund the production of erotica about them.

In a lawsuit, Amazon could also be held liable for this, as their website is the main distribution platform for the book, and Anita Driver is a pseudonym and and an unknown.

“It is a defence for the operator to show that it was not the operator who posted the statement on the website. The defence is defeated if the claimant shows that it was not possible for the claimant to identify the person who posted the statement.” (x) If Anita Driver remains anonymous, Amazon could easily be held liable in a court case. Because of this, it would be in their best interests to remove the book to avoid this. (I do not like Amazon, and while they would easily be able to fight the court case with their billions, it would be much easier for them to remove the book and avoid any possible cases.)

So honestly, it is easy to see why this book is a danger to the author. Now I’m not saying that Daniel would necessarily sue. I think he’d probably just laugh it off even if it does make him feel uncomfortable (which it probably does, it would me!) because he has more important things to do. But I honestly don’t know how F1 and Liberty Media might react to this, they would definitely be more likely considering Daniel’s Reputation in turn reflects their own.

Part Two: Danger to Fan Works

This leads me in nicely to part two, actually, because legal threats against fanfiction writers have been a real problem to various communities over the years. Anne Rice, creator of the ‘Interview with a Vampire’ series, had all works purged from the internet in the early 2000s, and threatened writers with legal action if they continued to post fanfiction.

Fanfiction has always been a niche. It’s a small part of the internet for those who want to put their blorbos in situations, or just to think about them fucking nasty. But fan works haven’t always been accepted. Many people still look down on fanfiction, particularly those feature OCs (original characters) or reader inserts.

Anita Driver’s book would be more at home on Wattpad than Kindle Unlimited. It is a fan work. It is written by fans, for fans, and should be kept to that specific audience (without paying for it of course, because as I said, it’s very illegal!)

A work of fanfiction being a book is nothing new, as I mentioned earlier, the ‘After’ series and ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ started out life as fanfiction. But when published, they were no longer fanfiction, they became original works of their own.

Putting fan works out in the open like that only threatens the F1 RPF community. It leaves us open, vulnerable, more so than normal. Sites like AO3 can only protect us to a certain extent, we can lock fics, sure, but that only stops those who don’t have an account from accessing our works.

If this one book is out there, who knows what may happen next. All it takes is for someone to say ‘I don’t want works featuring me published online and I will threaten a lawsuit’ and we’re back to email chains and password locked neocities webpages.

So it genuinely makes me worry.

And with the recent development of Dax Shepard sharing the book with Daniel himself, I feel that it’s all just too close. Fanfiction is never meant to be seen or read by its original subjects. Sure, they may actively seek it out if they want to, but unless they explicitly consent to it, they shouldn’t be seeing it. Daniel has had no say in the matter, it seems. It is being forced on him, which is going to look bad for the fanfiction community as a whole.

Part Three: Conclusion

Honestly, I don’t know whether I’m just being overly freaked out by this whole thing, I hope it just nicely blows over, the book disappears from people’s minds and we get to just keep our niche little side of the internet safe. But part of me is scared.

I’m scared for what may come, if the book is popular, will people try and emulate it? Will people start ripping fics from Tumblr/AO3/Wattpad to sell on Amazon to make a quick buck off the back of this? And will we have another Anne Rice type situation which kills the community completely?

I don’t know. And that’s what worries me. I hope that this whole thing blows over, that Daniel isn’t too freaked out, and that Anita Driver stops using ai image generators to make her book covers (Lance has waaay too many fingers on her most recent one. Caught you out babes x)

This is the end, for now. I suppose I’ll probably add to this if there are any more developments, and if anyone has anything to add (maybe some better law knowledge because mine is basic) please feel free!

Thanks for reading.

#f1 #formula one

[dead-girl-prolific]

Headcanons! pt 1. (Jane The Killer)

first up is Jane the killer and Jane Everlasting!

My beloved<3

Jane Elizabeth Arkensaw (Jane Everlasting/The SpinOff)

Faded green eyes - Lost her eye pigmentation from the fire. ( why does she have black eyes? it’s a choice ig) the black color of her “eyes” comes from the mesh of her mask.

5’6 (tall-ish and curvy/muscular)

her usual wardrobe is turtleneck shirts that fit decently tight, black or grey bell-bottoms

when she's on missions she wears her black turtleneck dress with black gloves and black fleece tights. she usually wears flats/loafers or pumps(heels)

her burns are very visible and she can't really do much to hide them

her skin is very sensitive and she hates wearing certain materials, but in some areas she can't feel at all.

Born on december 2nd 1995 and she is currently 28 years old.

She is indeed a she/they, she is pansexual leaning towards those who identify as women.

She’s basically the mansion’s therapist (only for a select few.)(everyone but jeff basically.)

Her personality is cold, distant, motherly, calculated, she rarely loses her cool and when she does it’s when a mission fails or goes wrong. She can be sweet when she wants to be, she originally wanted to be a therapist so she’s a great listener, she gives great advice, and she usually is the one stopping fights. 

She rarely comes out of her room, she doesn’t eat much, that or she has food supplies in her room, no one is really sure.

When she is around Jeff she gets mean, agitated and very impulsive, she can barely control her blood lust when she’s around him and he just pushes her further.

This is the character I will usually use for fanfictions. (unless stated otherwise)

She is 3 years older than Jeff.

She does wear wigs, guys. Her natural hair can and does grow, but it's very brittle, damaged and thin.

Good at tracking and hunting.

above average intelligence for a pasta (let alone a human)

Endurance is immaculate

agile (as agile as you need to be for her job lol)

she's very oblivious to hints of attraction and won't know to do anything unless she's the one pulling the strings or unless something is directly said.

in each fanfic /oneshot she may or may not be a proxy and have a slightly different personality depending on her role. she could also very well be a part of the zalgo army in some fics/oneshots i/m very indecisive.

I think that's it??? (I might add more)

another picture of a very attractive woman. i gotta say, i love both Janes equally.

Jane Tod Richardson(Jane the killer)

She loves watching true crimes documentaries, or listening to true crime podcasts.

She is 5’9 and her muscles are very well concealed.

She is a muscle mommy.

Jane and Mary are 3 years apart (canon)

She can not sunburn or tan due to the liquid hate changing her skin pigmentation.(canon)

Big church girly. (she’s canonically christian)

Yes, she and Mary Vaughn are married.

She’s a girl boss guys!

Lesbian

She frequently vomits black ooze from the liquid hate

She did kill Jeff the killer.

She kills criminals

She does not live with everyone in the mansion, in fact does not know any of the pastas.(determines on the fic)

she wears metal band-T's and sweatpants almost all the time when shes not doing something important.

i might use her in some fanfics i haven't decided.

those are my only headcanons for this character if you want to know more about Jane Richardson i suggest going to the actual creator of her character! remember these are just my little ideas i made up in my pea brain!

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #jane the killer headcanons #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta jane the killer #jane arkensaw #jane richardson #headcanon

[mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea]

About the Teigh

What should I say about myself past my tagline? "50 year old beach heathen. Lokean. Tea/coffee-drinker. Writer/photographer/hobby chef. Tarot/runes/dreams/psychometry. Genderfluid. Bisexual. Multi-fandom nerd. Why am I the only one who has that dream? They/Them," only gives so much, after all, and I mean, one of those things is a line from a movie probably a lot of you haven't seen because you're too young, and it doesn't have Taylor Swift in it.

If you've looked at my Tumblr, you know I'm a HUGE Marvel/MCU nerd. There are characters I hate (I have tags especially for you folks who love those characters so that you can filter out my rare venting about those characters posts), there are characters I like, there are characters I love, and then there are characters that I'd potentially open up a metaphorical vein for them. We all have those. We're nerds. We're on Tumblr, ffs.

I love tea. Yes I love coffee, too, but because of an rp character my name and personality has sort of become enmeshed with even just the notion of tea and all manner of tea paraphernalia. Teapots, tea cups, tea service, tea sets, tea, tea, tea, tea... *cue Monty Python singing the Spam song but it's tea*

I love photography. I'm a hobby photographer, and once I'm the hell out of Texas, I'll feel inspired to jump back into my photo game again.

I love cooking. What started out of spite because of my ex and a mutual friend telling me I'd starve to death without the ex to cook for me has turned into a creative outlet and passion. I know I cook more than my ex ever did, and with the exception of my picky, pissy SIL, most people love my cooking. So yay me.

I love animals, the beach (obviously - it's the place I most want to be), flowers, lots of different fandoms aside from Marvel (Hannibal, The Following, horror movies, Stephen King, period movies, literature, Shakespeare, Stranger Things, Peaky Blinders, Boardwalk Empire, ALL of the things that Mike Flanagan directs, BBC Sherlock, RDJ's Sherlock movies - the list is really kind of long, so I won't try to put everything down). I love pretty much all types of music (save Christian rock and quite a lot of pop singers, esp one particular one whose name I've had to filter out because so many of y'all love her).

I write fanfiction. I'm not a popular writer, but I'm damned good at what I do. For those who don't know, I'm Wolfsheart on AO3. I'm a huge sucker for kudos and comments. LOVE the comments, especially the positive ones. Hateful ones, not so much. I delete, block, and report people who send hateful shit. If you leave hateful shit without signing in, I'll report you as spam since AO3 hasn't provided a way to block and report 'guests'.

I've got side blogs on Tumblr that are mine alone and a few Tumblrs that I co-mod with one of my sibs from another crib, @scottxlogan. In case you're interested:

Mine:

Love is in the Earth (A blog about geology/stones/crystals covering both geological and metaphysical properties of them)

Mimir's Well (Tarot/Divination blog)

Lokiscarlip (Good Omens RP)

Mine and Scottxlogan's:

Marvelrarepairs (Marvel Rare Pairs, self-explanatory)

Starksummers (Also self-explanatory? Scott Summers/Tony Stark, or as we call them, Mechanical Boy Band)

Marvelrarepairs Bingo (Same as above but with Bingo cards!)

Scott Summers Bingo (A bingo for pro-Scott Summers folks)

Scogan Bingo (Scott Summers/Logan)

Oh yeah, here's a big thing. Super big heathen here. Nordic gods are my deity-drugs of choice. Loki's the top of the hierarchy. I read tarot, runes, psychometry. I'm your basic beach witch currently stuck in relatively Central Texas, trying to get this making money for me before my sister and I can escape Tex-ass and even after.

Look, I tag every post. I tag with what's in the post, if I put my negative opinions into the post (even the tags), I will always tag with "This is not a ***** friendly blog." Ex. "This is not a Jean Grey friendly blog," and "This is not a Peggy Carter friendly blog." If there's something I post that isn't tagged in a way that you'd like to filter it out, send me an Ask and I will put that tag into my routine so that you can filter it out. Tags are a courtesy, and I'm all about being courteous - kind of wish more folks on here were that courteous because there's some stuff I filter out and y'all don't tag so I'm stuck seeing it and have to block those posts.

Oh but here's the catch. I have Anon Asks shut off. I used to get a lot of hate asks and even death threats in anon because someone didn't like that I don't like a character they loved. That was pre-tagging days on here. So I shut off Anon Asks. Sorry, not sorry. You can send me asks, you'll be safe, and I won't like...eat your face or anything.

I only eat the rude.

#pinned post #about the Teigh #mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea #about post #post about me

[nuagederose]

As the Seasons Grey | Chapter Five: 6th Avenue Heartache

Christine’s heart soared as she and Alex strode on out to the wide open street before them after their lunch: the clouds gathered around the halo of the sun but the day could not be brighter. He nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose and showed her a sweet little smile.

“That was perfect, wasn’t it?” he asked her.

“It could not have been more perfect!” she declared.

He ran his fingers through his black hair and cleared his throat.

“Not to mention, that food just absolutely hit the spot this time around,” he continued. “I don’t know why, either.”

She resisted the urge to tell him that it was because he had paid for it instead of her, and she knew that she would have to find a way to give him a piece of pie as well, given they hadn’t had that, either. He stood next to her and beamed down at her: his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose a bit to show off his deep-set bright blue eyes to her, lined with those thick dark eyebrows. He looked as though he wanted to tell her a secret of some kind.

“I have time by the way,” she told him.

“I would hope that you do,” he said with a sly little smirk on his face. Out of the corner of her eye, Christine saw Nelly making her way over to the door on the far side of the room, right behind him, as if she was about to stalk the two of them. She hoped that she wouldn’t, just so Nelly wouldn’t have to put herself up to a situation like that. She and Alex descended the stairs before them down to the sidewalk: the clouds overhead swirled around and changed between light and dark tones, and it was hard to say if more rain was upon them.

She returned her gaze to the street before them, and she expected to see the doors to the cafeteria open for Nelly to step on out, but she never did. Alex tucked his hands into his jean pockets, and he let his satisfied belly hang forth over his black leather belt. Christine pursed her lips together at the sight of him, and she resisted the urge to do something about it. His shirt hugged his body and accentuated the full shape of his waist. She imagined herself touching him there at some point: there was nothing that should hold her back when she thought about it. Absolutely nothing.

Christine shivered under her long green jacket and adjusted her grip on the strap of her bag. Though it wasn’t cold out, she still shuddered at the thought of him being in the arms of another woman. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something about the thought of him not by her side all the time that only made her want him all for herself. It was a thought that lingered in the back of her mind, and more so when he spoke again.

“What’s on your mind at the moment?”

“I really have no clue what I want to do in life, Alex,” she confessed to him. “I don’t know what I want to do, I don’t know what I want, period. And it’s hard for me to set goals, too.”

“You know, if it’s any comfort to you, Christine, I don’t know what I want out of life, either. Except for maybe ‘peace of mind’ but that’s about it.”

“I just think about how there’s this constant feeling of having to pick choose a career and staying with it for decades, and yet—there’s just so much that I like, between playing around with clay and doing art. There’s a huge part of me that just doesn’t want to do only one thing, whereas I feel immense pressure to choose.”

“Again, if it’s any comfort, I feel the same way, too. I started out playing guitar, playing rock n roll guitar, and then I got bored with it and expanded with it. Some days I feel so limited with it, and other days, it’s like the sky is the limit.”

“Is that why you teach?”

“Nah, I teach because it’s fun and it’s yet another thing I’ve always wanted to do. When I sub, I don’t just want to limit myself to Mr. Hansen’s class, as much as I like you guys. Sometimes I do literature classes, and this week, I’m going to substitute for chemistry.”

“Ooh, that should be fun,” she said.

“I dunno,” he admitted with a shake of his head. “It’s second-year chemistry so, talk about out of my wheelhouse.”

“Thinking I’ll try out chemistry for the winter quarter,” she told him. “Just to see how it fares with me.”

He showed her a thoughtful look. “You really are something else, my dear Christine,” he remarked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t really think so, to be honest,” she confessed to him. “I suffered as a teenager, and I spent most of my twenties baffled and trying to get a grip on life. I feel the entire adult world laughing at me.”

She turned her attention back to him and the thoughtful look plastered across his face.

“Sometimes I just feel like I don’t belong in the world,” she continued. “Not me, not my body…” Her voice trailed off.

“Something tells me you made some U-turns in life,” he finally said.

“I have,” she told him. “When I was in high school, I thought I would have studied abroad and moved to Italy by the time I was the age I am now. It was such a lofty goal that I look back and ask myself, ‘what the fuck was I thinking?’”

“You dreamed big,” he said. “It’s like when you’re a kid and you dream of being a rockstar or something: somewhere along the way, you get a reality check and you feel the kid in you crying because you realize that life isn’t fair. It’s why so many people give up on their childhood dreams and become boring, stale adults. You seem reluctant to become another boring adult, though.”

“I do?”

“Oh, yeah. The fact that you’re willing to try out new things like play around with clay or study dangerous chemicals tells me that you’re curious about life. You don’t see that with people your age. People your age have settled. You know, they get married, they move to plain old houses up in Westchester or on Long Island and that’s it. The fact you’re here in the heart of the City tells me that you’re always curious.”

“Like a child,” she followed along.

“Just like a young child,” he echoed her. He brought a hand up to his mouth, and then he slid it down onto his chest and down onto his belly. “Next time we should totally have pie again.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said with a little smile and a glance down at his hand there on his full, round waist.

“I should invite you to come see my trio at some point,” he told her.

“A trio? What kind of trio?”

“Jazz.”

“You play in a jazz trio?” She showed him a little grin.

“Not just any old jazz trio,” he told her, “mine. The Alex Skolnick Trio. We play around town, and sometimes when I’m not subbing, we’ll go overseas.”

“Wow, you’re like Superman,” she remarked, to which he chuckled.

“Nah, I’m just a guy who does what he does,” he assured her. “I don’t want to be remembered as jazz guitarist or metal guitarist or anything like that. Just a guy who plays and learns new things every day.”

“You should play something metal the next time you sub for Mr. Hansen’s class,” she suggested.

“Whip out some kind of loud, screaming thing that wakes up the whole entire school,” he followed along with a hearty chuckle and a nudge of his hair away from his face.

“We are actually going to touch on rock n roll at some point during the class, though,” she pointed out with a slight snicker. “It’d be cool if you subbed for us at that point.” She glanced over at him again and the fact that he never moved his hand away from his waist. He glanced over at her right as the sun broke out of the clouds.

“You sure are touching your tummy a lot,” she pointed out to him.

“It feels really good in here,” he answered with a gentle pat. “Very warm, almost tender. Like I said, it hit the spot.” He then nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose once more. “What’s that lunch lady’s name in there?”

“Vanessa,” she replied.

“Vanessa! Yeah, she knows how to make something good, even if it isn’t all that healthy.”

“Oh, you,” she teased him.

“What?”

“So anal about your health,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Anal?” He laughed at that.

“Yes! You are so anal about it.”

“I want to be around for a long time,” he told her with a little smile on his handsome face. “The fact you used the word ‘anal’, though.”

“A teacher with a sense of humor is a good teacher, no matter what the subject,” she pointed out.

They reached the corner, and he turned to her. “So, I have to head on back to the other side of the school to where the adjuncts meet at,” he told her. “I don’t know what your time slots are like for today, but I can walk you to your next class if you’d like me to.”

“That is so sweet,” she said in a soft enough voice for him to hear over the noise from the street. “But I’m right over here, though. I don’t want you to be late.”

He kept the smile on his face: the hazy sun reflected on the black rims of his glasses to where they resembled fire opals.

“You’re too kind,” he said. “I want to meet up with you again, though. Not necessarily after school, but I do like hanging out with you, though.”

“Yeah, we should,” she replied with a little tilt of her head, and yet she had no idea as to what to tack on next to that. She could feel a little something inside of her at the sight of him before her, a light tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach and down into her belly and her hips. It was as if she had known him for quite some time, even though she had only seen him over the course of two weeks. “We should.”

He squinted his eyes at her and showed her a thoughtful little smile.

“I’ll see you later, dear Christine,” he told her, and then he doubled back up the pavement to the doors of the cafeteria. She still pictured Nelly coming on out of there to see what was happening between her and him, but she never did surface from there.

But something caught her eye from across the street: three heads of inky black and one of rich red copper. All four of them padded over to her with mischievous looks plastered across their faces.

“Christine and Mr. Skolnick, sittin’ in a tree,” the one brunette, Colette, declared in a singsong voice. Christine rolled her eyes at that.

“What happened?” the redhead asked her.

“Not if you tell me your names first,” Christine insisted as she buttoned up her jacket. The sun was still out through the veil of haze, but their presence gave her a deep chill right in her spine.

“Marlene,” said the redhead.

“Sabrina,” said the brunette with her hair in a bun.

“Valentina,” said the brunette with pigtails: Christine glanced over her neck at the heart-shaped pendant around her neck made of shimmering black tourmaline.

“And you know me as Colette,” said the brunette with her hair down and the white gloves on her hands. She then rubbed her hands together and gestured towards them.

“Alright. Spill us details.”

“Why should I?” Christine scoffed.

“It’s a juicy piece of collegiate lore,” Colette pointed out. “You also promised us.”

“Lore, not gossip?” Christine pressed her hands to her hips.

“Gossip implies we’re going to tell the entire campus,” Marlene explained. “Lore implies that it’s a tale to be passed down for centuries once the two of you are no longer with us.”

“It’s still gossip,” Christine insisted. “And I still can’t say, either.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not like we’re going to go around telling everyone here that Christine the quiet girl in Mr. Hansen’s class is fooling around with the substitute teacher,” Sabrina said in a single breath.

“I’m not fooling around with him,” Christine assured her with a shake of her head. “And that’s all I’m going to say about the matter, too.”

“Did you promise him not to tell anyone?” Colette followed up.

“No, I promised Nelly I wouldn’t tell anyone else,” she declared.

“Nelly?” Valentina raised an eyebrow.

“Lunch lady Nelly,” Christine clarified.

“Oh, her!” Marlene declared. “I’d be careful of her if I were you.”

“Why? Because she knows everyone in the school?”

“Exactly, yes!”

“What’s so bad about that?” Christine demanded, curt.

“Do you know how dangerous that is?” Marlene asked her.

“How is that dangerous? If anything, I’d rather have someone within arm’s length who knows everyone’s name rather than someone who is trying to pull my secrets.”

She shook her head and gazed up to the overcast sky.

“Why don’t I just go home?” And she felt a hand on her shoulder right then. She peered back for a glimpse of pigtails right behind her.

“Girl, we’re not going to gossip about you,” Sabrina promised her. “But the four of us have seen the look in his eyes and we’re curious about the two of you. You know, given he’s older and whatnot.” Christine turned around all the way to face the four of them.

“I don’t really know, to be honest,” she confessed. “I don’t know how I feel about him. I don’t really feel all that great talking about it, either. He and I are just lunch buddies at this point. Does that make sense?”

“Of course,” Marlene assured her with a flutter of her eyes at her. “It’s just… he paid for your lunch and laughed at things you said. You don’t think there’s anything there?”

“No,” Christine replied, still curt. “Why would there be?”

“Now, Mar, if he touches her, then maybe there can be something more there,” Colette pointed out. “But—I don’t think he has, though.” She turned her head to the side a bit as if she recalled something from before. “No, I don’t think he has.”

“He hasn’t,” Christine assured her; she dared not tell either of the four of them about the mystery woman on his phone. She needn’t stir the pot that way, and especially when they seemed so set on herself and him being in some sort of couple unit together, even though she had no intention of this happening. “Trust me. He hasn’t touched me.” She then paused. “And if he has?”

“Then there might be something there,” Colette repeated with a little flick of her hair back from the side of her face. “Even if it’s just a little innocuous touch on the arm. Even if he gently pats you on the back.”

“A light touch for any reason whatsoever,” Marlene added.

Christine sighed through her nose, and she peered over her shoulder to across the street: she spotted Eric under the trees with his long black hair streaked behind him like a Jolly Roger atop the highest mast on the ship. The shadows from the trees over his head washed over his face and shoulders: it seemed as though there was so much on his mind right then.

“I have to go to class,” she told them.

“We do, too,” Sabrina chimed in as she fixed her pigtails, right first followed by the left.

“And we promise not to tell anyone about this, either,” Marlene vowed to her; for a second, she thought that she had flashed her a wink before the four of them headed on back across the pavement to the other school building there.

It was right then Christine began to wonder if there was something more to Alex that he wasn’t telling her. He did smile at her, and Nelly’s plan worked after all as well. Maybe there was something there that she missed.

She yearned to see him again after school, and she wanted to try it out with him. Maybe he did want to touch her, and she had no way of registering that with him. If only there was a way to ask that of him, to suggest his soft touches unto her and without it seeming as though she begged for it from him as well.

She kept on thinking about this over the course of the class period, such that she could hardly pay any attention to the lecture that day. She gazed on at the front of the room with a blank expression on her face and her chin rested in the palm of her hand.

He was such an enigma to her, and to everyone in that school as far as she knew, as well. Those deep eyes hidden behind those bright shiny glasses. That streak of silver at the crown of his head, like the crown jewel of a prince of the land not yet seen.

Christine strode out of the class with her bag over her shoulder and her eyes on the clock as she knew that the bus was coming soon. She bowed out of that building and back across the pavement to the main building. She kept her eyes open for a glimpse down every corridor on the sides of that main artery.

She had no idea as to where the adjuncts met up at, and she had very little time as to find out about it as well.

Alex was nowhere to be seen, and she could only assume that he had already clocked out and headed back home. She sighed through her nose, and she hoped that he would keep his promise to her and they could meet up once again.

She hurried back outside to the bus stop, and there was Eric, as if he waited for her on the next ride home. Two other boys stood next to him, a short slightly stout one with long frizzy dark hair with a part that obscured a part of his face and a tall and slim one with long dark waves that spread over his narrow shoulders.

“Christine, these are my friends, Lou—” Eric gestured to the short one. “—and Greg.” He flashed her a finger gun.

“The strawberry girl,” said Lou.

“Or is it Christine Sixteen?” Greg joked, and Lou laughed.

“I was thinking about having nicknames for one another,” she confessed to Eric.

“We ought to,” he beseeched, and he rested his hand on her arm.

#as the seasons grey #as the seasons grey fanfic #chapter 5 #fanfic art #fanfic #fanfiction #fan art #testament fanfic #alex skolnick #eric peterson #greg christian #louie clemente #oc tag #illustration #colored pencil drawing #colored pencil #drawing #artists on tumblr #badgalnirvhannahart

[bookwyrminspiration]

okay i have a question Why did you decide to read 50 shades of grey like of ALL things

hangs my head sighing in resignation. It's because of Twilight. 50 Shades of Grey was originally twilight fanfiction, and as the local twilight mutual (I've got a Twilight special interest) I've been burning with curiosity for years--and it's so obvious when you read it. Like EL James didn't even change Christian's hair color from Edward's copper.

So I'm reading 50 shades because I have a twilight special interest. And because 50 shades is so infamous I wanted to see for myself what was up. Why now specifically? Not really sure, just did it on impulse.

So far I can confidently say I think Twilight's better and 50 shades is rather uninspired. It's basically just Twilight, but exchange the vampires for sex. With stereotypical characters--there's one line about Jose's like "all-Hispanic-American smile"?? and another about this one woman's "bustling germanic efficiency"??

The only point of 50 shades seems to be sex. There is nothing compelling about the characters the whole point of the book is them fucking--and nothing against anyone who enjoys that. I simply prefer better smut, smut with well-developed characters, an actual draw to the story, better writing. To quote Ana for a moment, I want more.

Anyway, that aside, the short answer to your question is: because twilight :)

#50 shades trilogy #quil's queries #skylilac #I could probably write an essay on all this ways this is painfully just poorly reshaped twilight fic #like it's flaunting it legitimately. making jokes #there's a joke about ana running away to alaska. and one of the things edward does in twilight is briefly run away to alaska #there's a joke about reading minds as well. and edward reads minds #those are barely scraping the surface #the whole plot of book two is 'crazy ex girlfriend with a gun' it seems #which is just. rebranded victoria

[emotionsandphenomena]

I never really engaged with twilight in any significant way but I do remember always thinking that christian grey made no sense to me as a fanfiction version of edward, because, to be honest, Edward always seemed like sort of a softie to me, cringing away from the violence inherent to him as a vampire. post cp video I'm realizing that's probably partially bc I wasn't really paying attention but anyway what's funny is that this is sort of the inverse of how I see Ali's treatment of kylo ren. she took a guy who is textually extremely violent and turned him into a sensitive misunderstood sweetie with a PhD. and yes, aliguys absolutely have their violent side, but as I've posted about before, it is almost always internally resolved before the narrative begins; they're men who used to have anger issues, past tense. I think the eroticism of that capability for, but not predilection towards violence is a huge part of what's Going On with aliguys, and this feels really clarified in Lowe and Eli especially. I'm so curious to know Ali's more specific thoughts on twilight; it's clearly something she's engaged with but I think it's likely she has criticisms. I mean she did give one of her main characters an obsession with Alice/Bella fanfic. so like. speak on it babe

#cp video was as usual really really good and interesting and then sort of went into a solutions oriented phase i didnt care for #you dont need to solve heterosexuality in this video queen its ok #also as usual i think her method of presenting arguments and counterarguments alongside each other #can create a sense that shes thought about it from every angle and then people get mad bc she didnt address xyz. #and she didnt address xyz for sure (in this case race and disability rlly stuck out) but that doesnt make the argument insolvent. oh well #AHU

[divinebronzegoddess]

Grey Reflections: Episode 12—CONFLICT!!!

If you would like to “Buy Me a Glass of Wine,” you can click this link or the ***DONATE*** link at the bottom of the menu on the left.  All previous disclaimers apply.  Episode 12—CONFLICT!!! CHRISTIAN Jason and I have a wordless ride into Grey House on Tuesday morning. I wouldn’t have minded working from my yacht again today, but I have the signing with Rosin and Rosin this morning and it…

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#Allen Forsythe-Fleming #Ana Grey #Ana Steele #Anastasia Grey #Anastasia Rose Steele #Anastasia Steele #Babies #Baby #Becoming Dr. Grey #BG Holmes #Bronze Goddess #Butterfly #butterfly saga #Charles Davenport #Christian Grey #Chuck Davenport #Dr. Grey #Dr. Steele #Fanfiction #Fiction #Grey Continued #Grey Reflections #Jason #Jason Taylor #love and handcuffs #Marilyn Caldwell #Mending Dr. Steele #Misadventures #More Grey Matters #Paging Dr Steele

[woofdrm]

I’m on this kick of watching bad movies based on fanfiction and I’m watching fifty shades of grey for the first time and WOW how did people watch this and actually think this is good cinema

Oh my god 50 shades of grey… my girlfriend made me watch the whole trilogy and I ruined her experience with a running commentary throughout the whole thing about how Christian is CLEARLY a sub, only to get sort of proven right at the end.

#and she still dated me. #offerings

[burgundybmw]

sometimes i’ll read fics that fundamentally don’t understand who eddie munson is??

i’ve seen this weird toxic version of eddie creeping up where he’s not a great guy, incredibly awful to characters (under the guise of sexual tension which no thanks) and definitely not the eddie in the show. don’t get me started on these like intense sex god stories - i don’t think he’s an innocent flower but my guys doesn’t have THAT much game considering how the show makes it a point that he’s an outcast.

i get that he’s a metal head (and yes he’s very hot) but if you watched the show, he’s an earnest goof who loves fucking dungeons and dragons and being a dork and wants to prove he’s a GOOD GUY.

Like do I believe Eddie is some meek virgin? No, dude definitely f*cks. Is he a uber suave Christian Grey type? Hell no. He could probably count how many people he’s been with on one hand (maybe two).

This next part might be controversial.

I think Eddie is a victim of stage 3 wattpadification. They literally make him out to be some type of Anna Todd nightmare (I know I said I wouldn’t bash writers, but she literally wrote Harry Styles fanfiction when he was like barely 18 while she was in her mid 20s… that’s weird…)

I agree, Eddie is such an amazingly kind, good hearted person. I hate to see such ooc stuff for the wrong reasons. I know you can have different interpretations of the same character, but there’s a big difference between taking some liberties and completely changing who he is. It doesn’t make any sense, we all love him for a reason!!

#ask #also hate creepy gross make behavior being labeled as sexy #like ew #no!!