#elias watches the hobbit

[kadavernagh]

Acquaintanceship of the Ring || Regan & Elias

TIMING: Current LOCATION: A perfectly normal hiking trail PARTIES: Elias and Regan SUMMARY: Elias insists on going on a hike with Regan, since she needs to return his planner anyway, and it's a good activity for not-friends. But they're not alone on the trail, and an acquaintanceship is put to the test.

It had been a few days since Regan had reached out to give him back his planner. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Elias asked if she wanted to meet up with him for a hike in the state park, as he was always looking for ways to lure people into hiking or running with him. To his surprise, she had agreed. And that’s how he found himself at the park's opening dressed in appropriate attire: a pair of jogging pants, a navy blue hoodie, and neon blue running shoes. He was obviously from southern California based on his choice of warm clothes. Still, he didn’t let the cooler weather damper his otherwise good mood. He watched as people came and left the park, then up the trees that were changing color, something he didn’t get to see a lot of back in California. It was beautiful, and he was ecstatic to be able to experience a northeastern autumn scene. 

Phone buzzing, Elias looked down to see a text from Regan that said she had just parked. His head shot back up, and he saw the familiar black Honda Accord parked by Regan. As she exited her car, he shot his hand up and waved in her direction to pull her attention over to him. “This weather is, like, winter for me.” He remarked as she finally stood beside him. He wasted no time going to the trail marker, eager to get into the forest and see the fall foliage. “I’m glad you agreed to meet me for a hike! Definitely more exciting than just exchanging things and moving on with the day.” His expression brightened as he remembered something, began to dig around in his pocket, and pulled out a bird skull. He wasn’t sure what bird it belonged to, but he figured Regan would enjoy it. He held it out to her with a bright smile. “I brought you a gift in thanks for returning my hobbits to me.”

Despite being earlier in the morning, Elias was wide awake and smiling. She may not consider him her friend, but he saw Regan as a very good friend he was still trying to make amends towards. He didn’t want to ruin everything because of what happened to him. Of course, he hoped she wouldn’t bring up any of the past beyond what was necessary. They had talked about it, and now it was time to move forward. 

This was not a social outing. Regan reminded herself of that the whole drive over here, and once more when she parked and hopped from the car. It held purpose. Elias definitely needed his planner back. It had a whole… couple of months of the year left that needed to be planned out. As she looked around for Elias at the trailhead, she clutched it under her arm – and another look at the cover revealed that, fine, Elias was right; those probably were not colonial women. Ah, there he was. Waving, cheerful as ever. Seemingly more so now than when they’d bumped into each other before. Was he getting comfortable here again? The thought gnawed at her; it seemed unwise. He was also swaddled up like he’d never experienced a temperature below 70 degrees before.

There was something else, too. Death. A light touch, a small presence on his person, like precious, pocketed remains. Sensing it, Regan tilted her head and stared down at his pocket, where the pull was coming from. Whatever it was, she would give him the opportunity to offer it willingly before she asked about it and made demands.

“Hello. I can see that. You’ve never experienced a New England winter before, have you? Or fall… most people find those pleasant, myself included.” New Englanders touted their fall seasons as a perk of living there, but the truth was that they were simply so accustomed to dreadful weather that anything to the contrary felt like a gift. “Here.” She handed him the planner. It had been in her office for months, but had accumulated no dust; she had taken care of it, some part of her clenched onto something she wouldn’t admit. Handing it to Elias just felt right, though; everything back in its place. Except for her.

And there it was – a gift, a token of appreciation, and one of the most lovely starling skulls she had seen. Its delicate zygomatic arches were intact and the beak had a polished look to it. She reached out, hesitating to touch it, feeling unworthy, before coming to her senses and claiming it from Elias’s palm with a loving caress. “Exceptional,” she finally said, looking at Elias. Her eyes could not come close to matching his excitement, but she could not completely tamp back her appreciation. “Thank you. It’s a starling, rather fresh. I am impressed that you found such a beauty even with your deficits.” She started, realizing how that came off. “I mean, when it comes to finding – everyone is deficient, except for me. That is what I meant. Anyway, um, you were right about the planner. They are not women, though they might still be colonial.” Regan looked to the trail ahead, hearing the chirping of birds and the whining of a cicada (probably one doomed to perish without reproducing, given it was well into the fall now). Elias’s life would undoubtedly be less messy if she were absent from it, but he seemed to want her present right now, and once more, Regan found herself giving in to the squirming unease inside of her chest. 

At least she was provided with something else to be uneasy about. She paused in front of a small marker sign left by the park rangers. Usually, signs like this would have information or a reminder not to litter. This one had a silhouette of a squiggly worm and screaming capital letters that read “WATCH FOR WORMS”. She looked at Elias. “Know anything about that?”

“No, never went through one yet.” He answered with a sheepish smile. “I’ll… get used to it. Believe it or not, I don’t like the heat, so. I’ll take the cold over heat any day.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, shrugging his shoulders as they walked. Planner back in hand, he looked it over. He really did not need it anymore. He had an assistant that kept tabs on that kind of stuff now. He smiled sadly, knowing that he wasn’t happy with his line of work, not really. He sighed discontent, then shoved the small book into his jacket pocket for safekeeping. Small enough to fit, big enough to make his pocket look goofy. 

As she insulted him, Elias gave his friend a weird look, then put his hands on his hip, opened his mouth, ran his tongue along his molars, and shook his head. “My deficits,” he mouthed as he narrowed his gaze, looking skyward for a moment before closing his mouth and dropping his arms back to his sides. “I’ll remember that, Kavanagh.” He vowed, pointing a finger at her. As she bumbled over an explanation, Elias couldn’t help but laugh, rolling his eyes with a hint of affection behind them. “Yeah, no worries, I get you.” He assured her with a smirk.

“So how have things been since– you know.” He waved his hands around as they walked onto the trail, gaze pulled to the sign that Regan had pointed out. He frowned, squinting at it. “Worms?” He questioned, staring at the sign as if it held the answers to the mysteries of the universe. “Nope, no idea.” He admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “Never had to watch out for worms before, personally.” He gave the sign one last look, tilting his head from side to side, then shrugging once more for good measure, then walking down the trail. 

The rustling of the leaves as a gust of wind swept through, the sight of falling yellowing leaves, and the crisp fall air was such a sight for the native Californian. “I could get used to this,” he murmured to himself with a half-smile. Clearly, he had forgotten the ominous nature of the sign. “And for the last time, they’re the fellowship of the ring, not colonial women!” He pointed to the drawing of Aragorn in the center. “Does that dashing man look like a colonial woman to you?” He pointed at the man with medium-length hair clad in silver armor. “Maybe you could make a case for Legolas,” he pointed to the elven archer, shrugging his shoulder. “But Aragorn? How dare you.”

“Hubris. If you can tell me the same after a winter here, I’ll believe you then.” There was some amusement in Regan’s voice, but part of her wondered if Elias wouldn’t tail it back to California if the weather was more than he could tolerate. Was that just going to be a concern now? No, it didn’t matter. She was going to be the one leaving first. She frowned at his comment about getting her. How presumption. He got nothing at all. If he had, he would not have insisted she go into the woods with him on what Regan now suspected to be a recreational hike. If he had, he wouldn’t refer to her as a friend. If he had, he wouldn’t have come back. It doesn’t matter, she reminded herself a second time within the same minute. She forced herself to focus on the trail map next to the warning sign. “It looks like if we take the Wormtracks Trail, then Annelid Pass, it’ll bring us back here in a giant circle.” She traced the squiggly route with her fingers.

“I am the same. Always the same.” As a banshee ought to be. The problem, of course, was that banshees were supposed to be fixing their imperfections before becoming unchanging, yet here she was, like a wax mold of a body in display in a museum, the same as ever but a poor facsimile of what she was supposed to be. But that wasn’t really what Elias had asked her – things around Regan had certainly changed. The world left her behind and she in turn. This probably would have been a good opening to inform Elias about going back to Saol Eile, but she pushed that daunting thought way over to the side. The worms could have it. Distract. “We have a new bone saw at the morgue. Dr. Rickers has already allowed Karli to play with it. It has grimy little fingerprints all over it.” Regan tsked. “At least when you were there, you kept the children busy enough that they didn’t resort to playing games with my equipment. Marcy missed you. She said things have been dull, and I’m certain she’ll be pleased to have you back in town even if not with the morgue.” 

“Are you going to get used to it?” Regan eyed him, taking in the sense of contentment radiating from him. Maybe he could find happiness here, even if his job and success were not the cause. That was what people – humans – wanted, right?

Okay, yes, fine; upon closer inspection the long-haired men were probably not colonial women, and the “Lord of the Rings” branding should have provided another clue, but the approximation was there. “He looks a little like one, actually,” Regan looked down at the cover in thought, “Legolas and Aragorn are unusual names. And why are they dressed like that, anyway?” The one called Aragorn had a stern expression on his face that Regan could at least appreciate, and there was something familiar about it all. Ah – “They remind me of the Lady of the Ribs series. Quite popular with some, though it never interested me. An old neighbor of mine starred in the 14th film.”

Something seemed to scurry across the treetops, shaking free yellowing leaves that flitted to the ground, joining scattered others. Regan paused and visored her eyes to look up, but she couldn’t see any more movement. Squirrel, probably. Had she been alone, she would have flushed it out and made swift work of it. She needed every opportunity these days. Elias was just another thing battering against her willpower. Regan’s eyes flicked down to the small skull in her hands before she gently tucked it into a pocket. Easier to maintain professionalism when evidence to the contrary was not staring her in the sockets. “Did you want something else from me?” 

Elias had researched winters on the East Coast about the possibility of a Noreaster, which greatly horrified him. “If I survive a winter here without complaining, I deserve a prize.” He decided with a nod of his head. He listened to her name a route they could take, peering at the board with narrowed eyes. It was a long trail, but not too long. He didn’t want to take up too much of the doctor’s time. Seeing as she was hellbent on not making friends, anyway. “I’ve never seen tree worms,” he remarked with a blink. “Do you think we’ll encounter these worms we’re being warned about?” He asked, brows furrowing as he tried to picture these strange creatures beyond the silly illustration drawn on the warning sign.

“Rickers let a child play with a bone saw?” Elias asked, his voice sounding slightly horrified at the prospect of one of the doctor’s grandchildren wielding a medical tool like a weapon. “He’s an unpredictable grandfather, that Rickers.” He muttered to himself, shaking his head at the idea that he had created in his mind. He smiled at his memories at the morgue before everything went to shit. He had gotten along with everyone working at the morgue, but then he had to go and fuck it all up. He frowned, suddenly stuck on the idea that he could have had something that he screwed up. He seemed to be good at screwing things up. He shook his head, shaking the thoughts out of his mind. 

“Get used to it?” He asked, unsure as to what she was referring to. “Get used to this place? I think the novelty of weird species and strange disappearances and murders happening will wear off eventually.” He frowned as they walked along the path, the rustling of the leaves and snapping of twigs from nearby animals lulling him into a sense of calm. Hiking always calmed him down no matter what life had thrown his way. “As long as I have trails to run on and hike, I’ll be alright.” He shrugged a shoulder, giving a half-hearted smile. He wasn’t sure how to be truly happy, but that was no business of Regan’s, so he didn’t voice that comment aloud. 

“They’re dressed like that because they live in a fantasy world of Middle Earth.” He explained. “A magical land without electricity and modern advancement. Living off the land and also magic. Did I mention magic?” He grinned, thinking about the books that had enraptured him as a child and to this day. “Legolas is an elf. Technically, he’s a prince. And Aragorn, spoiler alert, is the king of Gondor, but the elves raised him. Different elves than Legolas, but elves all the same.” He paused to look at Regan to see if she was following any of this. “Then, there’s a dwarf named Gimli and four hobbits. Frodo is the ring-bearer, Samwise is his best friend that definitely has gay underlying.” He pointed to each character as he spoke. “And then Merri and Pippin. Oh, and let’s not forget the wizard, Gandalf the Grey.” He grinned. “I do a mean cosplay of Gandalf. I made it myself and everything.”

Completely swept up in talking about Lord of the Rings, Elias missed the creatures rustling in the trees and falling to the ground. Regan’s comment threw him off, however. “I don’t want anything from you, no.” He answered, a bit confused. “You know, you can hang out with someone without an ulterior motive.” He raised a brow at her. “Friendship is where you enjoy the other person’s company.”

“Yes, this place. I suppose the actual question is whether you intend to stay.” And even if he thought he did, what would actually keep him here if the truth penetrated through all of his medicated defenses? And then there was the matter of his happiness, which – although Regan couldn’t completely relate – seemed important to him, despite his continual pushing aside of it. His circumstances seemed to put him on another collision course. 

Even if his new position brought Elias little happiness, these lords of the rings did. His face lit up, eyes as bright as they used to be everyday, something returned to him. She wasn’t following everything he spoke of, but she tried to pay attention. The names were strange and the terminology was stranger. “This series means something to you. It’s nice… to care about something. What else is different about the center earth? Is anything the same? You can live off the land here, you know. But, um, not magic.” The word always rankled her. And as she stepped over the crunchy, dead leaves, she had to wonder why people wanted magic to be real in the first place. What could be more wondrous than reality? Autumn’s decay always lifted her spirits.

This fantastical world of elves and wizards was evidently not too much for his human mind to wrap itself around, even desire, but Regan supposed the books could be closed and the movies could be paused and Elias did not need to concern himself with dangers that stretched his imagination beyond its limits. Of course fae were too strange, even to his sensibilities. She recalled the way his fingers ran through the furred legs of the dead faun, the way his mind seemed to shatter in that moment. She refused to be the one to crack his skull wide open again. “You’re in good company here, I suppose. Everyone is in costume right now. You could wear your… Gandalf on Amity Road and no one would think twice of it.” She paused, considering. “That’s probably true outside of October here, too.”

Regan probably should have brought him those “acquaintance bracelets” she had as a reminder. They were not friends. Elias still clung to the word even if he would not insist she use it. “You know where I stand on such… things. Friendship is not something that I can have.” The word was stretched with disdain, but something else, and Regan was not sure she even knew what it was. But she did know Elias was another in her growing list of people who wanted to contest that fact. As if the course of her life was not etched in stone from her birth. The thought festered and she was only broken away from it by a light touch on her shoulder. Was he– 

“Do not touch m–” But when Regan whipped around, Elias’s hand was not on her shoulder. There was a rope. Or… no, it was pink. And moving. It wound its way under Regan’s arm and wrapped around it, pulled taut. “I – some kind of vine, or something –” She tried to jerk her arm away, but the coil tightened, and she realized with a surge of more confusion than fear that she couldn’t pull away. 

Did he intend to stay? That was a question that Elias hadn’t quite answered for himself. “I don’t know,” he answered after a long stretch of silence. Sure, he liked the east coast, he liked that there were changing seasons as opposed to one long, perpetual summer. He liked that he was still close to the water. He liked that it gave him a chance to get a fresh(er) start. But still, he didn’t like that there were so many unknowns within the town, unknowns that he wasn’t faced with when anywhere else. Was it because it wasn’t anywhere else, or because he wasn’t looking hard enough? And what would happen if he looked hard enough? There were so many questions that were wrapped up in this town, and there was a large part of him that wanted to stay so he could figure it out, even if he was afraid.

“Oh yeah, my dad introduced me to them when I was a little kid.” He responded with a grin. “He frequently says that he regrets doing it because ever since it’s all I watched and read. Turns out you can destroy a book if you read it too many times. I’m on my, like, third copy of the series.” He admitted with a casual shrug of his shoulder. “Middle Earth,” Elias corrected with a point in Regan’s direction. “Middle Earth has kingdoms and guards and little farm communities and forest homes. And goblins and trolls and orcs and balrogs and gods and celestial beings and–” He cut himself off, realizing that he was getting louder and more enthusiastic the more he talked about it. “Sorry, I get…” he trailed off, looking a little embarrassed. “I get overly excited about it. I understand if it’s annoying.” 

“Maybe I will wear my Gandalf costume.” He thought with a faraway smile. “If this town gets super into the spirit of things, then I’ll fit right in.” He then blinked, thinking about what would happen if he wore the costume in the middle of May. “I mean, I could wear Gandalf out in the middle of spring, but I don’t know if he’s that much of a flower guy,” Elias spoke with a tilt of his head as if he were really considering wearing the costume on a random Tuesday outside of October. He’d shelve the idea for another time. 

“Can’t or won’t?” Elias shot back with a raised brow. If she couldn’t, that would imply that she wasn’t allowed friends. And if she wasn’t allowed friends, then who was out there controlling her? His brows furrowed as if the idea truly troubled him. He wanted to know why she was so shut off from the world when he could tell there was a part of her that truly wanted companionship, even if she didn’t admit it. Even if the thoughts put a scowl on her face, Elias could see it, and he was ever so desperate to get to the bottom of it, but he also knew it wasn’t his place to pry. But still, it was something that worried him.

Elias held his hands up in the air to show that he was clearly respecting her personal space. “That’s one hell of a weird snake.” He spoke with wide eyes, though there was more curiosity than fear behind his eyes. “Is that the thing that the sign was warning about?” He then wondered, eyes narrowing as he stared at the pink snake. “Oh yeah, definitely a snake,” he confirmed as the thing tightened its grip around Regan’s arm. Thinking quickly, Elias grabbed a fallen stick from the ground and brought it toward the snake, trying to get it to latch onto the stick instead of her arm. “C’mon, little guy. Leave the good doctor alone.” 

This was an Elias she was more familiar with; gone was the suppressed torment in his eyes, replaced only by exuberant passion for this… middle earth. She could also almost imagine how Elias must have been at work, early on, in the fae bar, thinking the monsters around him were like minded nerds and nothing more. Regan shook her head, almost offended that he’d suggested he was being annoying. “Once, I could speak about my work with the same enthusiasm.” Sometimes she could channel it, recall some of her former excitement, but most of the time it slipped back between her fingers, insubstantial as the water it had drowned in. “Be unapologetic in your pursuits.” Was it not what gave human lives meaning? Passion. Interest. “You’ll have to tell me of it more thoroughly be – at some point.”

The wind blew in a harsh gust, and Elias’s question carried its chill. “Can’t.” The word was heavy, and she had not truly understood the weight of it until recently. Her voice shrank against it, small in comparison to its impact. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to intend to press her on the matter right now. At some point – despite herself, and certainly to her own detriment – she had become willing to extend a small amount of trust toward him. The problem was that she thought it might break him.  

The long, fleshy snake or worm or whatever it was provided what was almost a welcome distraction from that tense moment. But of course Elias was speaking to it. Of course he thought he could coax it onto a branch. Of course. The nearby presence of the stick only made it constrict tighter, and Regan was lurched back. The thing was surprisingly strong, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t a snake now; it had the slimy coating of a worm, but none of the limpness. Its grip was strong. A scream would sort the situation out, but she was finding that people frequently got in the way of such a solution, and Elias was no exception. She would not do that near him. “That isn’t working.” She was pulled further back, her heels digging in. “Do – I don’t know, what would the lords do? Not the Lord. I mean, the ones in your–” As the worm finally pulled her up into a tree, Regan’s legs flailed and her mouth clamping shut as a preventative measure. Branches jabbed her and leaves got in her eyes and the worm held on tight. When she was sure a scream wouldn’t fall out, she shouted down to a very stunned Elias. “Oh, for– just find something sharp and slice it.” That had worked terribly with the worms at the morgue. But this was different. Regan grabbed onto a sturdy branch but could feel her grip slipping even against the rough bark. “How embarrassing,” she muttered, “second time stuck in a tree this fall.”

Frowning, Elias realized that Regan talked about her love for her job in the past tense. It gave him pause, wondering what had caused her to be unable to. Was it the same thing that caused her not to be able to talk about certain things? All of it made Elias worry deeper for something he knew he couldn’t even begin to understand. But he wanted to. He wanted to be there for her, to be a friend to her even though she didn’t know how. Or that she wasn’t allowed, or that someone out there brainwashed this poor woman into thinking that she wasn’t allowed to have a semblance of personality or love for anything that wasn’t bones. At that moment, Elias’s gaze went distant. He wanted to understand her. He wanted to be the person she could go to. But there was something in her that he knew made her afraid. Something had happened, or someone had said something that turned her from excited about her job to what she was now. And he hated whoever or whatever did that to her. 

“Well then, a big fuck you to whoever caused you to think that way.” He spoke in a solemn tone. The previously jovial Elias was replaced with one of sincerity and understanding. He knew it wasn’t something she could talk about, so he wouldn’t push her further on it. Still, the anger festered, and he buried it for later. It was buried right alongside the part of him that was desperate for the truth about that woman who was laid out on the autopsy table.

As the snake constricted harder, Elias swore under his breath as he cast the stick aside. He was hoping that would have worked. Damn that stupid snake that had ruined what could have been a bonafide moment of friendship for the two of them! He snapped back to reality when Regan began to shout about killing it. Elias nodded, reaching into his pocket for the pocket knife he had learned to keep on him since living in this God-forsaken town. “Right. On it!” His gaze turned horrified as it seemed to suck her up into the tree with it. Absolutely not. This was going on the list of shit that he didn’t mess with—big rats, pink worm snakes, and definitely not fae. 

Carefully, Elias began to climb the tree, thinking back to his childhood of endlessly climbing trees or the time he hiked the Pacific Crest Trail to tie things up into the trees to keep his belongings away from bears. He was glad he kept up with his physical fitness, or this would have been difficult. “For the record, I wouldn’t go climbing trees for acquaintances!” He called out with gritted teeth that were holding the knife in his mouth.

As he got closer to the snake, he took his knife and sliced it in half, making a face as he did so. He really hated killing things, but it was actively abducting his friend. “Give her back, you pink noodle!” He shouted at it after slicing through it.

Elias was one of the last people Regan ever expected to carry a pocket knife. It probably should have been attached to every keychain and in every pocket of every individual given the dangers of this town, but still, she couldn’t imagine him using it. Was it possible this was a recent development, spurred by anxiety and what had happened before? That iron ring would still do him better most of the time, probably, but she was going to let that one rest. She watched from the branches as Elias surprised her yet again – he could climb. Something lurched inside of her at the acquaintance comment and she didn’t think it was only because of the worm tightening its hold. Maybe she just didn’t like being this high up. 

He could barely look at the creature as he went in with the blade. She hadn’t known him to shy away from autopsies, but apparently taking an animal’s life was too much. It was not in his nature. And yet… he was doing exactly that. It was a curious thing and had Regan’s attention.

Regan stumbled and grabbed for the tree’s trunk as the worm that was wrapped around her arm was severed. Clear fluid sprayed into the sky and both half-worms wriggled furiously. And then, it clenched harder, snaking around a branch, while its other half turned toward Elias, very much still alive. This was like the morgue with Eleanor all over again. Better because no decedents were threatened, but worse because she was in a tree. “That didn’t work!” She called out the obvious. A scream rumbled in her lungs, a reminder that the worms could be so easily reduced to nothing, but she denied it. But she had a feeling that cutting the worm up more would only worsen the problem, which left them solution-less. Regan scratched at the slimy body of the animal but it kept its hold tight as ever. Pulling only seemed to incense it. “You’re the one who… you’re good at thinking on your feet. Can you distract them?” As she asked, the worm whipped around and gnashed its teeth in her face, but Regan ducked back. “What right do you have to–” She hissed at the animal and nearly lost her footing. Mistake. She caught herself and gave Elias a steely look. “I can end this, but you won’t like it. So think of something else.”

At a complete loss for words, Elias watched as one snake became two snakes, followed by a face of disgust at the clear fluid that sprayed everywhere. “I…” he squeaked out, looking around for something. Cutting it wasn’t going to work. He’d have to think of something else. 

Climbing out of the tree, he thought about how to entice the snake away. Wait, what about a snake charmer, the dance the snakes would do? He had no other ideas, and it was better than nothing, right? He hopped onto the ground and threw his arms up in the air. “Hey! Snake!” he called out and began to wiggle his body in an almost worm-like manner. “Come on, snake!” He spoke in a ‘come-slither’ tone. He waved his hands again and threw his knife on the ground to better entice the snake by wiggling his arms at his sides.

By some act of mercy, it began to work. The strange snakes began to unravel from around Regan’s body and slither slowly toward him. “It’s working!” He shouted in surprise, continuing the strange, wormy dance. It was akin to an interpretive dancer having replaced their bones with spaghetti. At least, that was the energy he was attempting to channel. As soon as the snake had let Regan go, Elias stared at her wide-eyed. “Your turn!” He hissed at her, continuing the wiggly ritual that was causing the snake to slither toward him.

Regan could only assume it was by some stroke of sheer, stupid luck (which she did not believe in, thanks) that this was working. She hadn’t a clue what neurons sparked this idea in Elias’s head, why he’d started doing this strange… wiggling, gyrating thing, but the two worms turned to Elias like a reorienting compass finding the north. Her acquaintance was indefatigable enough to continue this, wasn’t he? Regan took the opportunity to carefully navigate her way down the tree, branch under branch. Under the necklace’s glamour, her wings wanted to offer lift, but she was on her own this time. With her feet on the ground, she breathed a sigh, and realized… there was a choice in front of her now. And choices were even worse than being stuck in a tree. 

“My turn? Absolutely not. I am not going to perform for anyone, let alone for something that’s trying to eat me.” She was too proud for that. Let Elias do it instead. He was so good at it. She sidled around the tree to get a better look, assess the situation. His inflatable car dealership tubeman dance was ridiculous, practically an insulting gesture to her presence, but it had saved her. Or more accurately, spared his ears. But now it was working too well. The two half-worms were drawn to him, squiggling hypnotically toward Elias. But they weren’t alone. Other worms dropped from the trees in droves, first a few, then dozens, all converging on Elias as he wiggled his body around like a small intestine being waved in the wind. One fell from above right onto Regan, and completely ignored her as it flopped to the ground, imitating Elias’s swaying. “Besides, you’re doing, um… such a good job.”

Why not just leave him? If she didn’t consider him a friend, it would be easy, right? She stared at Elias, at his dance, at the gathering pool of worms around him. Then over her shoulder, at the trail. They probably wouldn’t eat him. Probably. The trail looked so inviting, full of denial – no, certainty – that she had not befriended anyone. But sweat beaded Elias’s temples and his limbs seemed to be growing sluggish from exertion. Regan bit down on her lip as guilt and something unidentifiable nestled firmly inside of her. The mhothúchánach whelp she had become, why could she not just leave? She would not lower herself to what he was doing. But free from the worm’s grip, maybe there was something else she could do now. They liked the way Elias was moving… Regan’s eyes fell on one of the branches that had snapped off the tree. Hm. She waved it around in the air, even waggled it a little. Dozens of tiny black worm eyes followed it. Closer. Closer. They had squirmed away from Elias now, a teeming mat of them. Regan gave Elias a stern nod, a readying nod, and then threw the branch flying into the woods. “Fetch.”

When Regan turned to the path, Elias knew she was contemplating running away. He stopped dead in his tracks. He went from feeling stupid to downright idiotic. The signs had always been there. He had just attempted to ignore them. He was nothing more than a pathetic human to her, wasn’t she? The worms had wiggled off, but Elias was still frozen in place. A look of betrayal was evident on his features. Instead of saying anything, he simply shook his head at her. Flashes of his conversation with Parker came flooding back to him, all about fae and the different types that existed. One had stuck out to him like a sore thumb, leading to even more research that had left him with only one answer. He felt stupid for not seeing it sooner, or maybe because he didn’t want to see it. 

Regan wasn’t human. Then again, she hadn’t claimed to be.

Regan was a banshee. He knew she was, from the obsession with death to the ashen features. Even if his research wasn’t entirely accurate, Wikipedia and further folklore searching had led him to places on the internet he didn’t realize existed. He was an idiot for even believing for a moment that he was anything but a plaything to her.

Shaking his head at her, a look of betrayal became clear as day on Elias’s face. She may have turned back and grabbed that branch to send the snakes away, but she still thought about leaving him. She had wanted to, hadn’t she?

Elias dropped the planner he had been holding onto, and simply pulled the acquaintance bracelets off of his wrist and tossed them onto the ground with the planner that Regan had returned to him. “So much for friendship.” He said in a low tone before turning around and walking the other way. He didn’t care if he’d get stuck in the woods. He just needed to escape Regan and her lies. 

No, they weren’t her lies. They were the lies he told himself.

The worms were gone, chasing after the stick like a pack of slimy curs, but what remained was still a pit of vipers. A look of betrayal had flashed onto Elias’s face and wouldn’t dislodge. It took Regan a second, but she understood. She hadn’t been fast enough, that calculus in her head that, on some level, was weighted with the words of her grandmother. That stupid pride that had been drilled into her skull. The need to be apart. Elias registered her hesitation and doubt. And it hurt him. 

There was a harsh snap as Elias pulled his bracelet off. She hadn’t even known he’d been wearing them. But really, she should have guessed. She wanted to call out to him, explain – as if she could, as if there was an excuse – but the words seemed to stick in her throat like a stubborn scream. The last time she’d seen such potent emotion on his face had been during that autopsy – The Autopsy – before he’d taken off across the country. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. But maybe it was better. Or, maybe, she’d made a mistake more terrible than she realized, and it would only make him more obstinate. That was how Regan used to be, and something she could still occasionally find within herself; it was a hard part of the spirit to break.

“I’m sorry.” Regan said, the words clotting on her lips. For not being fast or human enough to make the right decision. But, mostly, for the sharp plummet of Elias’s emotions as they fell from middle earth’s highest cliffs. This had all been for her – the hike an attempt to socialize and bond, the strange wiggling an attempt to free her – and she gave him nothing except some of her own emptiness. She wasn’t even sure if he heard the apology as he dotted into the distance. Possibly better if he didn’t.

Regan stared at the planner full of lords of rings with long, silky hair that she realized she probably wouldn’t learn more about now. Something in her chest tightened more firmly than the worm’s grip. Gathering her resolve, she picked up the discarded planner and bracelets. Clutching them tightly, she started down the trail, foulness churning in her stomach. Uncertainty. Regret. Those first several months in Saol Eile had been the hardest – before her heart had made itself stone and before her thoughts stopped turning toward her family and friends. As they had vanished on the horizon behind her, she was left with only the aching sensation of loss, that she’d parted with something she had never appreciated quite enough. Why did this feel so similar, when there should have been nothing in her heart to begin with? 

#writing #c elias

[unlithour]

On Finding Oneself

It seems to me that finding oneself usually requires some sort of journey. I wish more than anything that I could push through the coats of an overstuffed wardrobe and step into Narnia. Fall through the looking glass and embark on a mad adventure.

Or maybe find a wrinkle in time, a way to return and repair my past mistakes; to pass hard earned wisdom on to my younger self. But in truth I'm in my mid thirties and on a budget. So here I am with only a lantern searching in this unlit hour.

Sipping my Blanchard's Dark As Dark blend with the Gallow Dance playing quietly in the background, I sit with the acknowledgment that I will not step through some magic portal. Probably won't even take a trip to Norway to lay in the crisp snow beneath the Aurora Borealis, which would also more than suffice.

I google "how to find yourself" and the results are frankly disappointing. I'm too jaded for positive thinking, too cynical for manifestation, and too cranky for affirmations. I'm reminded of the meditation penguin from Fight Club. *Slide!*

While any sort of grand adventure may be off the table for now, recreating a similar environment to a time in which I was enamored with the world may be a possible step in the right direction. This tiny hope, is in part responsible for my return to Tumblr and to writing. To me they are both relics of 2008, and symbolic of better days.

So I start this low budget quest to rediscover myself by creating a simple list of things I was once inspired by and enjoyed.

Activities:

Hanging out at book shops & cafes

Reading

Writing

Drawing, painting, & mixed media

Listening to new albums

Watching Criterion & Art House films + new movies in general

Playing PS1 games and board games

Visiting galleries, local artist co-ops, & museums

Solo camping

Day trips to other towns, national parks, & scenic destinations

Browsing art supplies at my local art store

Urban walk-abouts at night

Photography for fun

Dressing up for no reason

Live concerts

Researching & studying artists I loved

Paint your own pottery places

Y/A Books:

Mandy / The Last of The Really Great Whangdoodles

The Secret Garden / A Little Princess

The Chronicles of Narnia

The Harry Potter Series

A Wrinkle In Time Series

The NeverEnding Story

His Dark Materials Series

The Newford Charles De Lint Series

The Princess Bride

The Dark is Rising Series

Anything by Roald Dahl

The Light Princess

Wind in the Willows

The Hobbit & LOTR

The Historian

The Shadow of The Wind

Perault's & Grimm's Fairytales

Gothic / Atmospheric Literature:

Wuthering Heights

Picture of Dorian Gray

Dracula

Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe

Music:

Heavy metal, melodic metal, & doom/sludge metal

Dark wave, cold wave, & gothic rock

90's grunge, alt rock, & trip hop

80's synth wave

Artists:

Edward Gorey

Rene Margritte

Aubrey Beardsley

Erté

Marjorie Miller

Claude Monet

Elias van den Broeck

Dorothea Tanner

Edward Hopper

Mark Ryden

Artemisia Gentileschi

Botticelli

DaVinci

Michelangelo

Movies:

Waking Life

Fight Club

Vengeance Trilogy

Spirited Away

Style Wars

Any Art21 Documentary

Edward Scissorhands

Cry Baby

Labyrinth

American Beauty

Train Hopping

Heavy Metal

Dead Poets Society

A Scanner Darkly

Kill Bill Volumes

Any classic Disney animated film (except for the sad ones like Bambi)

Do you have any reading or watching suggestions based on this list? I'd love to hear them.

#spilled ink #artists on tumblr #small artist #dear diary #journal entry #diary entry #finding yourself #depresso #reading list

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 19

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: hope you enjoy this chapter xxx

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N was submerged up to her neck up to the bubbles in her bath tube. She wanted to be mad at Gwen, mad that once again she had lost something over her own selfishness but most of her mind was telling her to be forgiving, Gwen could’ve never predicted a blizzard and if she had known she would’ve probably taken one less bag so Y/N could accompany her. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but feel a ting of sadness as it dawned on her she would probably spend Christmas here. It wasn’t like she didn’t enjoy Sebastian’s presence, she absolutely loved to be around him when he wasn’t putting up a facade for his associates. However, it was different. It wasn’t the same, there were no fireplaces, no big kitchens in flames with every single scent related to winter and Christmas, no playing chess with Mr. Forrest or telling Gwen to wait for present opening. At the same time she was rather nervous to be left alone with Sebastian. That’s just like freeing a child in a candy shop without parent supervision and an unusual amount of money. No restraints and how was she supposed to have any restraints when Gwen wasn’t around to be the constant reminder that being in love with a promised man is wrong?

She sighed, lowering her body down til her nose touched the bubbles of the bath tube. Was the universe testing her? Yes, it was. She kissed a promised man and now she doesn’t get to spend Christmas like she normally does. What else is gonna happen? She hoped there was no mistletoe laying around the house. 

     - Miss Y/N? Are you okay? - she heard a light knock on the door followed by Amelia’s voice. Noticing the water had begun to cool down, she stepped off the tub, wrapping herself in one of Sebastian’s monogramed fluffy robes. 

The handmaid creaked the door open, peaking to see the maid holding a folded red jumper and black pair of sweatpants. Being in those soft materials sounded like a good idea. Being surrounded in soft materials was always a sure way to make her a bit happy.

    - I got you some nice and warm clothes and afterwards I can do your hair into something pretty. - Y/N nodded clearly not in the mood to disobey and quickly got dressed up in the freshly washed and dried garments. In no time she was sat in front of her vanity while Amelia brushed her hair and braided it along with a red velvet string. 

    - You know, Miss Y/N, we haven’t had a nice Christmas in this household in ages. Maybe with you here, we can have something nice. - she placed the brush back in the table. - There we go. Don’t you look pretty?

    - Thank you so much, Amelia. - she smiled. - Don’t you want to go home to your family?

    - This is my family. I’ve been taking care of Mr. Stan since he was as tall as a hobbit. However, I don’t think he needs someone to look after him anymore.

Before Y/N could question Amelia over her riddle speaking pattern, she was already rushing her down the stairs. Much to her surprise, the fireplace that wasn’t really a fireplace was on, there was a smell of apples, cinnamon and nutmeg in the air. She looked around wondering where the smell came from and judging by the amount of people in the kitchen along with bodyguards cooking various things, she wondered it came from there. She tried to suppress her smile as she walked barefoot to the kitchen, the little bells on her velvet red string jiggling.

   - It smells lovely. What are you cooking? - she asked Elias, her bodyguard, who had an apron over his suit. 

   - I have no idea, Miss Y/N. Some sort of pudding like thing. - he continued to whisk the dough. - Do you happen to know how to cook a Christmas Pudding?

   - I think you might me missing some brandy. 

   - I would love some brandy. - Elias mumbled.

   - Stop mumbling. When you applied for this job you said you could cook so cook. - Sebastian spoke from further into the kitchen which intrigued Y/N. He barely even stepped into the kitchen unless he needed his beloved coffee as other than that he got his meals in his office. Y/N bite her lip, walking further into the kitchen to find the perfectly polished mob boss struggling with whatever he was doing. - You know, angel, I can hear your bells. 

   - What are you doing? - like a curious child, she took over to his side. 

   - Sugar cookies. 

   - That is not sugar cookie dough. - she pointed at the bowl he was mixing which had a liquid like dough on. - Besides, I thought you said you didn’t cook. 

   - Well ... it is my fiancée’s fault you’re not at home having some sugar cookies so I thought I’d dust off my mother’s recipe ... It’s not working very well, angel. 

   - Yeah, cookie dough shouldn’t be liquid. 

   - The fridge will fix it. - he placed the bowl down, staring at the once straight but now crooked whisk caused by his lack of gentleness when cooking. Sebastian couldn’t cook and that was a fact. The only thing he could sort of make and turn edible was chicken breasts which he had learned during university and even that was somewhat questionable.

   - No, Seb, I don’t think it will. - the nickname escaped her mindlessly and, while she didn’t notice, Sebastian couldn’t help but smirk at how comfortable she had made herself around him. At least comfortable enough to give him a nickname. - Do you have the recipe? I’m sure we can make a new lovely batch. 

  - If you can understand my mother’s handwriting. - he handed her a rather old piece of paper which looked like a child’s tea paper. Y/N held the paper with both hands, chewing on her lip as she read it through. 

  - Alright we need sugar, flour, vanilla extract, butter, and eggs. - she scanned through the sea of ingredients that were standing on the table. - Why ... why are there chocolate chips here?

  - I thought I could put chocolate chips on it. - he rubbed his neck sheepishly and Y/N smiled. - I used to do it with my mum. It’s probably wrong.

  - You know, my nanny always said you bake from the heart. - she handed him an unopened pack of white chocolate chips. - Besides, I think we might make it work if we add it at the end. We start with butter and sugar in the bowl and then we mix it ... with an electrical mixer. 

  - You youngsters and your electronics. - he joked and Y/N rolled her eyes. If Gwen was to be trusted, Sebastian was 14 years older than both her and Gwen making him almost a decade and a half older than the two girls. She creamed the butter with the sugar and added the flour, eggs and vanilla. - Can I turn it on now?

 - Sure, just be caref ... - before she could warn him, he turned the mixer up to his highest speed sending a cloud of flour towards both of them. - ... with the speed. 

She looked at his surprised flour covered face, holding in a laugh as she bopped his nose. He looked so helpless in the kitchen she wondered if his associates knew the best way to get his weakness would be by making him cook. 

    - This is why we start with slow to medium speed. - she turned it off on medium, watching as the flour was incorporated with the flour. - Should I put a scarf on you and you can become the snowman?

     - You’re trying to be funny, angel? - his hand ran down her side, subtly ending on her bum. - Don’t forget who you’re speaking to. 

     - I won’t. - she handed him the glass bowl, successfully occupying his hands with something else. - I hope you know how to roll dough. 

It was nice and she had to admit it. Baking Christmas cookies with the mob boss engaged to her friend was nice and she didn’t know if to feel guilty or to relish on the memories that would probably haunt her at night time or whenever she thought of Gwen. She was stuck in her own conflict until she felt something run down her cheek. 

    - Sebastian ... - she cleaned her cheek, noticing the red icing. - Stop it. 

    - I always thought you were sweet angel but I think you might just taste sweet too now. - Sebastian kissed her cheek making her widen her eyes, looking around if any of the staff had noticed. To her luck, they were much too busy looking at a video on youtube on how to properly cook a turkey. Guess they shouldn’t have given the chef an early holiday. 

   - Stop it, you’re engaged. - she took a step to the right and handed him a bowl where she had placed the chocolate chips on. - Go on, decorate your cookies. 

   - They won’t say anything. - Sebastian observed as Y/N’s pipped some icing onto her cookies making them look like small pieces of art. Surely his cookies were not gonna be displayed. - Besides Gwen isn’t here. 

   - You could look a bit sad that your fiancée isn’t here. - she grabbed the tray of cookies and placed it in the oven, cleaning her hands against her apron. - You don’t need to mean it. 

   - Admit it, you’re also happy she isn’t around. 

   - I am not. We’ve spent Christmas together since we were kids, it’s sorta of odd that she isn’t around. 

   - C’mon, angel. Do you even have a day in your life that’s just for you? Your birthday perhaps?

   - Me and Gwen have the same birthday and besides, I don’t know what I would do with a day just for me. - she could possibly spend the whole day reading but other than that it would sound a bit weird not to have Gwen barging into her bedroom with her issues. - You spend Christmas with family and the ones you love. 

   - Alright, angel, if you say so. 

   - We should go outside. 

   - Outside? - he looked over the window, noticing the soft fresh snow on the ground. It looked way colder than the warmth provided by his heaters inside the house. - Are you sure?

   - We could go to the Rockefeller Centre, see the Christmas tree or even go to the ice rink.

   - You wanna walk all the way there?

   - It’s not that bad. C’mon, it’s gonna be lovely. - her eyes sparkled in a way that didn’t allow anyone with an once of a heart to say no to her. Sighing he just smiled and that wasn’t for her to kiss his cheek and rush out of the kitchen to grab her coat.

She returned in a few seconds in a white faux fur coat which most likely used to belong to Gwen and matching winter hat and gloves. He thought she looked adorable all in white like some sort of snow angel with the robin necklace in gold shinning with the reflection of the Christmas lights. In odd comparison, Sebastian was wearing his traditional signature long black coat, sunglasses with a Burberry scarf. As they stepped outside, she seemed to light up with energy, her hand wrapping around his as they looked at the other house’s outside decoration.

People couldn’t help but smile as they saw the two people contrasted with colours and with expressions. Sebastian himself would’ve gone home but his heart would skip a beat every time her gloved hand touched his pulling him along. In what felt like hours and hours of walking and looking at various lights, they reached the Rockefeller Centre and even Sebastian had to take off his sunglasses to look at the Christmas tree. 

   - Let’s go ice skating. - she grabbed his hand, smiling. - It’ll be fun.

   - No, angel. You can go, I’ll just watch.

   - It’ll be fun besides, I’m sure none of your associates are here to see you ice skating. 

   - Do you ever take no for an answer, angel? 

   - You’re gonna like it. 

   - Alright. - he gave in and walked over to buy the tickets and rent the skates. Mindlessly, she put her skates off and went off onto the rink, turning around to see Sebastian still trying to look as polished and stoic as he could. - What?

  - You can’t be holding onto the rail all the time. - she crossed her arms. - That’s cheating. 

  - I never said I would do the skating part of ice skating. 

  - You could always use this as an excuse to hold my hand. - she skated over to him, extending her hand towards him.

  - I don’t need an excuse to hold your hand, angel. But ... I’ll take your offer. 

tag list: @lilya-petrichor @xoxohannahlee @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @nikkipea @madisonpillstrom @cevans98 @thelostallycat @sideeffectsofyou @anxiousdreamersworld @captainchrisstan @lookiamtrying @sarge-barnes-sir​​ @stuffforreferences​ @thebadassbitchqueen

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan drabble #sebastian stan fanfiction #au!sebastian stan #mob!sebastian stan #mobster!sebastian stan

[backofthebookshelf]

Hobbit Birthday Fic #2 (soft martinelias)

enzy asked for soft martinelias

//

"Elias, what the hell?"

Elias smiles to himself. If he brings up the fact that it wasn't two weeks ago that he got a stern lecture about how sneaking up on someone when they're working is "creepy" and "inappropriate," he won't get to hear what else his delightfully indignant assistant has to say, so he'll just have to enjoy this one by himself. He carefully drops the smile before he looks up, the very picture of helpful curiosity. "Yes, Martin? Is there a problem?"

Martin glares. It's a little like being menaced by a kitten that's more fluff than cat. "Why am I spending my Friday afternoon making hotel reservations for Simon Fairchild?"

The smile slips out then. Elias had a little bet going with himself about how long it would take Martin to put together the pieces; as usual, he's lost. He imagines that someday Martin will manage to disappoint him, but it seems unlikelier by the day.

"I thought you'd appreciate the opportunity," he says. "You are always complaining about the ambiguity of the Institute's relationship with our donors. And I know I can't rely on anyone else to take every eventuality into consideration." To pay any attention to how many hotel staff Simon is likely to make off with, he means; it's a point even he fails to consider sometimes, but they are rapidly running out of central London hotels that both suit Simon's frankly decadent tastes and won't turn the man away at the door.

It's tremendous fun watching Martin pretend he isn't flattered to be singled out in such a way, even after all this time. For such an accomplished liar he never seems to know what to do with his face. Finally he scowls down at Elias and mutters, "As long as I don't have to meet him there."

"Not without me there," Elias agrees. There are limits, after all, and Simon has wandering hands. Martin looks somewhat mollified. "Still all right for dinner at eight?" he asks, mostly just to see the blush stain Martin's cheekbones.

"I – yeah, all right. If my boss doesn't need me to work late." He grumbles, but he also leans in for a kiss, which Elias is all too happy to deepen just past the point of appropriateness for two in the afternoon in the office.

"Scandalous of him," Elias says when he finally lets go, breathing the words against Martin's lips. "I'll have to have a word."

Martin startles himself with a laugh.

#the magnus archives #tma fic #martinelias #elias bouchard #martin blackwood #hobbit birthday party 2020 #my fic

[wildwoodmage]

I was tagged by @gojira007​ to list my nine favorite movies and honestly, I don’t watch a lot of movies!! But there are a few that stick with me and I’ll gladly watch over and over again. Sir these are my emotional support movies. Under the cut, in no particular order...

Tagging (just for fun, no pressure!): @luckysirilikesyou​ @elias-mun​ @randomanimemadness​

The Prince of Egypt

As a sweet little christian baby this was one of the first movies I ever watched, but I love it more and more every time I watch it. It’s a masterpiece from an artistic standpoint, and the soundtrack goes hard as hell. I’ll never get tired of this movie

Lord of the Rings (all of them)

My parents are power nerds. We used to binge the trilogy once a year, and although we haven’t been able to do that in a while, watching these movies feels like coming home. Fellowship makes me want to be a hobbit. Two Towers makes me want to be a tree. Return of the King is a religious experience (not a joke).

Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron

Another honorable mention from my childhood, even though I haven’t seen it in ages. I should change that. Spirit says horse girl rights and also fuck colonialism.

Into the Spiderverse

I finally watched this for the first time this summer and honestly, life changing. The animation blows me away and the soundtrack makes me want to fight the sun. A masterpiece.

The Princess Bride

Yeah, it’s time to rewatch this one. I think this movie shaped my entire sense of humor growing up. It’s why I’m so irresistibly charming

Sonic the Hedgehog

If we are mutuals and you are at all surprised to see this movie listed, you owe me $20. Listen, I knew I was going to enjoy this movie regardless of how good it was. Turns out it’s 100 minutes of unmitigated delight and I would die for this blue space baby.

Howl’s Moving Castle

As you can see I will gladly sell my soul for awesome animation. Not to mention the delightful wholesome fantasy. Sophie is living the dream: be old, fall in love with a chaotic stupid wizard. Goals.

Whoops, that’s seven. Oh well, I got the important ones.

#campfire chat #ask meme

[foxespsu]

01 / BASICS

Full Name: Grayson Elias Sharpe Jr.

Nicknames: Gray

Birthday: July 11th

Gender: Cis Male (he/him)

Orientation: Ambiguously Not Straight And In Love With Jen Anyway So Who Cares

Astrological Sign: Cancer sun; Libra moon

Spoken Languages: English

Birthplace: Dubois, Wyoming

Relationship Status: In a relationship with Jen Brookhart

tw death/murder

02 / PHYSICAL TRAITS

Hair Color/Style: Dark curly hair. It’s longer on top than on the sides.

Eye Color: Light brown

Face Claim: Fady Elsayed

Height: 6′2″; he slouches terribly most of the day though, meaning he doesn’t seem nearly as tall as he is. His posture is much better on the court.

Tattoos: N/A

Piercings: N/A

Unique Attributes: Occasional freckles, particularly in the summer after spending most days outside at the ranch. His hands are usually calloused and rough, either from outdoor labor or holding a racket. He also often has at least a five o’clock shadow.

03 / PERSONALITY TRAITS/TYPES

Positive Traits: Loyal, emotional, intense, hardworking, intelligent.

Negative Traits: Insecure, angry, uncertain, moody, private.

Hobbies/Interests: Animal husbandry, woodworking, Exy, and most recently, gardening.

Major/Minor: Agriculture Studies major. No minor.

Insecurities: Grayson has a list of insecurities a mile long, unfortunately, although he’s slowly but surely working on it. The most salient ones are related to his home life—Grayson has a complicated relationship with his father, and there have always been times where he truly worries that his father hates him. Grayson’s also afraid of his own capacity for destruction, fearing that his mother’s murder broke something within him, and because of that he spent the latter half of last year working to relearn Exy without his usual red cards and unnecessary fights.

Quirks/Eccentricities: Half the reason he took up smoking was for something to do with his hands. The other half was because he grew up surrounded by smokers anyway. Now, it would feel strange to quit, no matter how terrible a habit it is for an athlete. 

MBTI Type: ISTJ; “the Logistician”. They are direct, strong-willed, and dutiful. They want to be part of a system that works and do not desire the spotlight. They are stubborn, insensitive, and unreasonably quick to blame themselves.

Enneagram Type: Type 6; the Loyalist. At their best, type 6′s are loyal, self-affirming, independent but interwoven, positive, courageous, and make great leaders. At their worst, they are fearful, desperate for security, defenseless, and slow to make important decisions

Moral Alignment: True neutral.

Temperament: Melancholic.

04 / FAMILY & HOME

Immediate Family: His father, Grayson Sharpe Sr, is alive in Dubois. His mother, Mariam Sharpe, is deceased.

Other Family: Most of Grayson’s extended family lived in Dubois too, but they slowly left town as the rumors grew. As his family dwindled, it was only natural that most of Grayson’s focus would be on somehow changing his relationship (or lack thereof) with his father. He’s one of the few next generation Sharpes anyway, with the family name on the verge of dying out.

How do they feel about their family?: Blood is thicker than water, and for a long, long time Grayson lived by that—no matter how much blood had been shed. Grayson’s dad was the most important person in his life growing up, even with their complicated history. He defended him in Dubois, in Palmetto, in his own thoughts, even if it was hard when his dad wouldn’t even talk to him in return. More recently though, Grayson worries that it’s something much worse behind his dad’s silence. Maybe his father’s unwillingness to look Grayson in the eyes is as much as Grayson Sharpe Sr. as it is about his son. After all, it isn’t just the bored, listless, gossip loving townsfolk of Dubois who doubt his father now. It’s First Degree and their listeners. It’s Jen. Deep down, it’s Grayson himself.

How does their family feel about them?: Fuck, Grayson wishes he knew.

Pets: In Palmetto? None. Back home though, the ranch has a variety of animals, including horses and chickens. Grayson is particularly close with the horses, especially since there are some that have been in the family since their birth.

Where do they live?: Like most of the Foxes, he lives in the dorms during the year. Unlike many of them, he goes home to his family over breaks/summers.

Description of their home: In Palmetto, it’s simply a dorm room. Grayson never moves fully in, living out of bags half the time. Back home, they’ve got the ranch, and all the space that requires. Dubois is gorgeous, and the views from their house are no exception, particularly since they live on the outskirts of town.

Description of their bedroom: Grayson’s bedroom back home is a bit chaotic, and very clearly lived in, even if he spends much of his time outside with the animals. He’s got years worth of things accumulated, from old posters to old clothes that no longer fit him. He usually cleans it before he leaves for Palmetto, but that often simply means throwing things in the closet or under the bed. His dad never goes into his room anyway, so what does it matter if it’s still messy? He takes most of his things for granted, with a few salient exceptions. Grayson stole his dad’s old photo albums when he was younger, including the ones with pictures of his mom, and he keeps those buried in the back of his closet. Since his dad refuses to speak of the past, and more specifically about his mother, these sometimes feel like his only connection to her.

05 / THIS OR THAT

Introvert or extrovert? Introvert.

Optimist or pessimist? Pessimist.

Leader or Follower? Follower.

Confident or Self-Conscious? Self-conscious.

Cautious or Careless? Cautious.

Passionate or Apathetic? Passionate.

Book Smarts or Street Smarts? Street Smarts.

Compliments or Insults? Compliments.

06 / FAVORITES

Favorite Color: Blue

Favorite Clothing Style/Outfit: Grayson wears a lot of flannel and denim. He’s also a fan of plain dark tee shirts paired with jeans. He tends towards practical clothing, particularly things he’d wear around the ranch, such as boots and worn old jeans. Overall, his clothing is focused on comfort rather than style.

Favorite Bands/Songs/Type of Music: Grayson listens to a lot of folk, indie, and country. He also enjoys older songs. He’s not caught up on current pop culture at all, and often forgets the names of specific songs or musicians.

Favorite Movies: Grayson’s seen Big Eden about 12 times at least.

Favorite TV Shows: They don’t have cable back at the ranch, nor did he have much free time with everything that needed doing. As a result, Grayson didn’t grow up watching much TV, and to this day he doesn’t follow any specific shows.

Favorite Books: He read a lot of classic fantasy growing up—Chronicles of Narnia, The Hobbit, The Once and Future King. These days, Grayson mostly reads nonfiction for class.

Favorite Foods/Drinks: Grayson is a vegetarian, much to his father’s displeasure. Other than that, he’s not picky, although in his natural habitat he tends towards plain food and drink—with the major exception being that he’s picked up a habit for sugary drinks from Jen.

Favorite Sports/Sports Teams: He follows the other Class I Exy teams, although he’ll never be as fervent as some of his teammates. He also grew up watching the rodeo back home.

Favorite Time of Day: Morning

Favorite Weather/Season: Fall

Favorite Animal: Horses

#new! and! improved! #inspo: grayson #death / #murder / #about: grayson

[racheo91]

I was tagged by @randomfandompenguin

Rules: answer 21 questions and tag 21 people you’d like to know better

1. Nickname: Rach, lazy bones (nephew)

2. Zodiac: Aquarius

3. Height: 5'7

4. Last movie I watched: Harry Potter the Half Blood Prince

5. Last thing I googled: Briana Buckmaster

6. Favourite musicians: Paramore, you me at six, manic street preachers, Elias

7. Song stuck in my head: magic works - Javis Cocker (end of Harry Potter goblet of fire credits)

8. Other blogs: no

9. Do I get asks: once in a blue moon

10. Blogs following: I follow 176 blogs and I’ve got 103 followers.

11. Amount of sleep: depending on what time my daughter wakes for a feed in the night 😂

12. Lucky number: don't have one ha

13. What I'm wearing: green vest and grey shorts (PJs)

14. Dream job: haven't got one but got an amazing job as a mother

15. Dream trip: New Zealand (Hobbit) Las Vegas 😂 (not a dream but love to go there ha)

16. Favourite food: food 😂👌🏻

17. Play any instruments: used to play recorder.

18. Languages: English (barely) about 5 words in polish and few words in Welsh 😂

19. Favourite songs: nineties - busted, woman like me - little mix ft Nicki Minaj, high hopes - panic! At the Disco

20. Random fact: I quote films and tv series alot

21. Describe yourself as aesthetic things: don't have a clue ha

Tagging: @mrsmookie @crossfitjesusinskinnyjeans @purpleskiesandcherrypies @pseudonymfox @caramell0w @monsteramongmen-tamer @toponepercent @harleyquinnnikki @valkyrieofsmut

[weirddemiwood]

PART 1

Masterlist

It was a Sunday evening as Eirene was walking through Target, trying to figure out what she wanted to cook that day. As she passed a door with the writing, 'STAFF ONLY' on it, she noticed a purple light coming from underneath the door accompanied by the sound of rain.

Curious as she was, she looked around before opening the door. She was instantly engulfed by purple light which shined so bright, that she had to cover her eyes. Suddenly, the air around her smelled like dirt and it felt as if she was standing under a shower. Opening her eyes, she noticed that it was raining and that she was no longer in the Target but in a little village.

Confused, she started walking in no particular direction until she came across what seemed to be a pub called 'The Prancing Pony'. Realization dawned upon her. This must be some kind of prank from Elias. He must have found someone who was able to create powerful illusions and made them create an illusion of Middle Earth or whatever that world by Tolkien was called.

Deciding to go along with it, she stepped into the pub and out of the rain. Inside there was a lot of laughing and everything smelled of alcohol. She sat down on one of the stools by what seemed to be the bar and patted the black cat that sat on top of it.

"There you are," a voice next to her said. "I was looking for you."

Eirene looked to where the voice came from and had to laugh as she looked at a man who must be Gandalf. "Pretty sure you are confusing me with someone else."

"Are you not Eirene of the Spring court?"

Eirene laughed, thinking this was all part of the illusion, "Sure I am although nobody says court anymore."

"Ah, of course," Gandalf nodded, "Now come." he made a gesture for her to follow as he moved to a different part of the pub. Eirene followed as he sat down with a short man that seemed familiar to her. He must be a main character. "Mind if we join you?" Gandalf asked.

As a waitress passed the small group, Gandalf stopped and requested the same food that" the guy in front of them with the long hair had.

"I should introduce myself," Gandalf said, "My name is Gandalf and this is Eirene." he then explained. "Gandalf the Grey and Eirene of the Spring Division."

The guy looked at him, "I know who you are," then he looked at Eirene, "But you I do now know and I do not wish to be familiar with any elves."

"Elf?" Eirene asked, "Who are you calling an elf here, mister?"

"Eirene is a Fae," Gandalf explained. "Now what brings Thorin Oakenshield to Bree?" Oh yeah, that was who the guy was.

"I received word that my father...had been seen wandering... the wilds near Dunland. I went looking. I found no sign of him."

"Thorin, it's been a long time since anything but rumor was heard of Thrain."

"He still lives," Thorin, who Eirene knew to be a dwarf, insisted. "I am sure of it." After the waitress brought Gandalf and Eirene their food, Thorin continued, "My father came to see you before he went missing. What did you say to him?"

"I urged him to march upon Erebor. To rally the seven armies of the Dwarves to destroy the dragon and take back the Lonely Mountain. And I would say the same to you. Take back your homeland."

Wasn't that the plot of the Hobbit movies? Eirene had never watched them but Elias never shut up about the 'Tolkienverse'. Why the hell did he put her into this? Wouldn't he enjoy it much more to be in it himself?

Eirene then noticed that she had missed part of the conversation as Gandalf said, "The Lonely Mountain troubles me Thorin. That dragon has sat there long enough. Sooner or later darker minds will turn towards Erebor. I ran into some unsavory characters while traveling on the Greenway. They took me for a vagabond."

"I imagine they regretted that."

Gandalf took out a piece of leather. "One of them was carrying a message." he put the piece of leather forward, "It is Black Speech. A promise of payment."

"For what?"

"Your head. Someone wants you dead. Thorin, you can wait no longer. You are the heir to the throne of Durin. Unite the armies of the Dwarves. Together, you have the might and power to retake Erebor. Summon a meeting of the seven Dwarf families. Demand they stand by their oath."

Thorin eaned forward, "The seven armies swore that oath to the one who wields the King's Jewel. The Arkenstone. It is the only thing that will unite them, and in case you have forgotten...that jewel was stolen by Smaug."

"What if I were to help you reclaim it?" Gandalf asked.

"How? The Arkenstone lies half a world away. Buried beneath the feat of a fire-breathing dragon."

"Yes, it does. Which is why we're going to need a burglar."

"And she?" Thorin asked nodding in Eirene's direction, "Why is she here."

"You will see," Gandalf said and reminded Eirene very much of Dumbledore at that moment. "Now, I must take care of a few things but I shall meet you again soon."

He then stood up and left, making a hand motion for Eirene to follow him. She did so and as they left Gandalf gave her instructions to meet him again in nine months in Bag End. He then told her how to get there.

"Wait, what am I supposed to do till then?" she asked.

The Wizard turned around, "I think you will find that the time goes by faster than you think."

#the hobbit #acotar

[wwevampireamongkpop]

From Demon to Shield P.2

Pairing: soon to be Seth Rollins x reader, Roman Reigns x reader (platonic), Dean Ambrose x reader (platonic), Elias, Alicia Fox, Sasha, Bayley

Warning: cussing, some blood (if you really look haha), if I miss anything let me know please

A/n: I hope y’all like this, I tried writing the match but I think I did the best I could. practice makes perfect. Also I am a huge harry potter fan and through in something. I hope y’all don’t mind

Tag List: @ladyjayelehnsherr @awkteenliz @ilovedean112 @panda-girl1999 @wallflowersara @wrestlingbabe @onemorefanblog @m-a-t-91

Part 1 Part 3

               You woke up to the sound of someone banging on your door. You groaned when the banging stopped before looking over at the clock on the night stand next to the bed, it was seven in the morning. Groaning again before pushing yourself up to a sitting position. Just then another set of banging started but this time it sounded as if it was being done by more than one person.

               You got up off the bed and slowly walked over to the door. With a swift turn and pull, the door was open and the two who was knocking on your door looked at you. Roman and Dean stood there looking down at you, a smirk on Romans face.

               “Good morning baby girl.” His voice a bit too cheerful for seven in the morning.

               “What the fucking hell do you want this early?” You rubbed your eyes then glared at the Samoan who just continue to smirk at you. “What the fuck are you smirking at?”

               “Shirt looks good on ya baby girl. Besides, we are all driving to the next location for tomorrow night’s house show.” If looks could kill, Roman and Dean would have been dead right on the spot.

               “Come again. You woke my ass up early on the one morning I actually get to just to drag my ass to the next city that will still be there in like four hours.” Roman chuckled as did Dean. “Besides didn’t y’all drink last night and normally you all get drunk when you go out.”

               “We didn’t drink that much last night.” Dean chimed in.

               “You aren’t gonna leave me alone are you?” Both men shook their heads. “Fine, I’ll get ready but I swear to god you owe me.” You turned to walk towards your bags, you heard Roman and Dean follow you in. You looked over your shoulder at both men who were smiling from ear to ear. “And when I say you owe me, I mean no pranking, no messing, or tormenting me at all in any way shape or form. So help me, I know some of the shit y’all have done to each other and I want no part of it.”

               You were in no mood to get messed with today. It was a day off that you had hoped to enjoy for a while but looks like it won’t be going your way.

               You grabbed a pair of sweats out of your bag and slipped them on. Turning to grab your computer off the bed, you see Roman looking at with a huge shit eating grin on his face and your laptop in his lap.

               “What the hell, Ro?” You glare at him with your hands on your hips.

               “Is this what you were reading last night?” His hand pointing to the screen. You walked over and looked at the screen, your face instantly going red. Taking the computer away from Roman. “We won’t tell him, won’t we Deano?”

               “Tell who what? Oh, you’re talking about Y/n reading porn about…” You smacked him on the arm to get him to stop. “Ouch!” You stuck your tongue out at him.

               “I didn’t read it. I was scrolling through the feed last night and fell asleep.” You looked at the screen, something you wish you didn’t do in front of both Roman and Dean. Your bottom lip finding its way in between your teeth as you read what they were trying to read. In an instant, you closed your computer and stuffed it in your bag. “Speaking of Seth, where is he?”

               “He’s down putting his bags in the SUV. All we need is you and your bags then we are good to go.” Roman stood up and rubbed his hands together. He nudged Dean which caused him to jump a little. “You almost ready?”

               “Almost.” You looked at yourself in the mirror and grimaced. “I just need to brush my teeth, my hair and relieve myself since I hadn’t had a chance to in the whole,” you looked at the clock, saying it was a quarter past seven “fifteen minutes you two hounds of justice came and woke my ass up.” You grabbed your bathroom stuff before walking into the bathroom. “This is injustice. INJUSTICE I TELL YOU!”

               All you heard was the boys laugh and vaguely heard Roman telling Dean to see if Seth needs help. You ignored him as you relieved yourself and quickly brushed your hair, putting it up for now. He stood in the door way to the bathroom as you brushed your teeth.

               “Just a heads up, you are not going to be driving.” You looked at him in shock, toothbrush almost falling out of your mouth.

               “Why the hell not?” You managed to say just before spitting into the sink. “I think I’m one hell of a good driver.”

               “Oh I’m not doubting that baby girl. We normally take turns driving and Seth tends to hog up most of the time.” You glared at him. “Don’t look at me like that. Your ass is sitting in the back seat all because from what Finn told me, you fall asleep on long road trips.” You shook you head. Rinsing out your mouth, you felt a little better.

               “I only fall asleep because I’m not driving. Finn also knows better than to wake my ass up before at least eight on a morning I tend to sleep in.” You glared at him once again as you walked over to your bags, grabbing them and practically shoving one at the Samoan.

               “Okay baby girl, I get it. No waking a demon before she’s ready.” He smiled as he started walking towards the elevator. You followed suit with your key, other bag and purse in hand.

               “Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus.” You smiled as the words flowed from your lips. The words caused Roman to look at you weird. “You never heard that? Wow.”

               “I don’t even know what you said.” He shook his head.

               “It’s Latin. I need to check out then I need to turn in my rental car.” You walked towards the front desk as soon as the elevator opened. Quickly getting checked out and followed Roman out to the parking lot. Smiling when Seth’s ear to ear grin was on complete display.

               “It’s about time.” He practically shouted.

               You walked over to him and put your bag into the back along with the others. Watching Dean climb into the front seat, you started to walk to your car.

               “Where are you going?”  Dean yelled from the driver’s seat.

               “I have to return my rental then we can head out.” You slipped into the driver’s seat of your car, starting it up. “This is going to be one crazy long week.”

               You were right. To say the least. The ride to the next city was filled with off tune singing, you sleeping most of the way, you sleeping with your head unknowingly in Seth’s lap as he ran his fingers through your hair, and stopping for food a few times all because ether Seth, Roman or Dean were hungry.

               The best way to get to know your tag partner was to travel with him. It worked for Cesaro and Sheamus but at the beginning of their team, they practically hated each other. You were lucky you and Seth didn’t hate each other. You just got a little nervous around him.

               You sat in the back seat with your phone in hand watching a movie and off in your own nerdy little world with your headphones on. A smile displayed on your face as the movie played, until you felt a hand tapping you on your forehead.

               “You’re awfully quiet there cupcake.” You pulled your headphones off. “Whatcha watchin?” Dean sitting backwards in the seat in front of you with a wide grin on his face.

               “I like this movie, that’s why I’m quiet.” You earned a chuckle from Seth and Roman. “Just so you know I’m watching An Unexpected Journey.”

               “Is that like a porno or something?” Dean’s face looked kind of confused.

               “No it’s not.” You blushed a little. You never got this kind of shit from Finn when you were riding with him. “It’s the first of a trilogy for the Hobbit films. It’s technically the prequel series to the Lord of the Rings films.” You smiled, you have seen all six films numerous times resulting in knowing some elvish and even a couple tattoos.

               Dean mouthed okay and sat right in his seat. He probably mouthed it’s porno to Roman. You just sighed as you went back to your movie but it didn’t go unnoticed by Seth. You were thankful for your headphones being earbuds, you kindly took one out of your ear and handed it to Seth. Who graciously took it and placed it in his ear.

               The same thing happened every day for the six days. Each house show, Seth came out to save you from Elias after your matches even if they weren’t against Fox. Every time you heard Seth’s music hit just before he ran out you had butterflies. Every day you felt yourself smiling more than ever.

               Monday was finally here. The day you were finally have your match with Seth.

               You and the boys arrived at the arena with no issues. You felt like a member of the Shield when all four of you walked into the arena, an unofficial official member of the Shield. Giving each one a hug, lingering a bit longer with Seth.

               “See ya later boys. I have a mixed tag match to get ready for.” You winked at Seth, causing his signature cocky smirk to play across his face. Grabbing your bags, you started to walk towards the women’s locker room.

               As soon as you walked in, you were bombarded by two women. You let out a squeal which caused both women to giggle.

               “So, how’s it traveling with the Shield?” Sasha looked at you with a huge grin on her face.

               “It was fun, actually. Unless you count being woken up at like seven in the morning on your sleep in day as fun.” Both of them looked shocked.

               “They didn’t.” Bayley knew better than you wake you up the morning after Raw. “Was it all three of them or what?”

               “It was just Roman and Dean. But it sounded like six people banging on my door that morning.” The two women moved away and you walked to the other side of the room. “Seth was putting bags in the vehicle as I was checking out.”

               “You were checking out alright. Checking out Seth.” All three of you laughed.

               “You guys know that I check out tumblr from time to time, right?” You looked at them and they both nodded.

               “From what Finn said, it helps you relax after the show.” You nodded your head in agreeance. You thought to yourself that you won’t hurt Finn for spilling that to the hugger to your left, seeing as they were friends before you arrived to Raw.

               “Ya, um, my laptop was still open to it last Tuesday morning and,” you tried to word it right.

               “OMG, who say what?” Sasha couldn’t keep the amused look off her face even if she tried.

               “Roman and Dean saw.” Your face warmed up a bit thinking of it. “I didn’t realize when I stopped scrolling I landed on a fan fic of Seth and I. They thought I read it. I don’t even know what it was about.”

               Bayley walked over to you and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Did they mess with you about the fic because if they did.”

               “No, they didn’t. It actually wasn’t brought up. Dean thought I was watching porn when I was watching An Unexpected Journey.” All of you laughed again.

               All of you started talking about random things while getting ready. You pulling on your ring gear, black shorts that match Finn’s trunks minus the BC, a black halter crop top with a support bra, along with your boots and knee pads. Checking to make sure everything was in place, smiling when everything was.

               “You ready for tonight ladies?” You looked over at Sasha with a smile and a nod. “Let’s kick ass tonight.” All three of you walked out of the locker room, all of you ready your matches.

               Sasha and Bayley had a tag match against Alexa and Nia in the first hour of the show and your tag match with Seth wasn’t till the middle of the second hour. This meant you had a bit of extra time to get ready.

               You normally had to meditate to make sure your alter-ego didn’t show up during your match tonight. So far you had met one guy who could stop her from showing up during a match and that man was in a different country, Finn.

               Walking around the back, you found your way to a few stacks of crates. You hopped up on them, carefully, and zoned out.

               You were pulled back to reality by a hand on your thigh. You looked up and you found yourself looking at Seth and Dean. Blinking a few times, you nodded your head and hopped down.

               “You ready to kick ass sweet cheeks?” Seth looked down at you. You could tell he was ready and you just hope you were going to be able to keep your head in the game.

               “Let’s do this.” All three of you walking towards the curtain. Your mind was focused and you were ready to get this underway.

               Alicia Fox and Elias were already out in the ring. Elias was singing to the crowd like always but this time it was about Finn and how he wasn’t there. Before he could go much further, your music hit and the look on Elias face was one of annoyance. Microphone in hand, you had a couple words for the wanna be rock star.

               “Elias, you really think that I would come out here to fight you and Foxy over there. Did you?” You started to walk down the ramp and stopped half way. Shaking your head with a smile on your face. “Oh no, as a matter of fact Finn knew he wouldn’t be here tonight. So, I have someone to team with.” You looked at the crowd and asked them who it could be. As soon as Seth’s music hit, you dropped the mic and just stood there with a huge smile as the crowd went insane. The moment Seth and Dean were at your side, all three of you made your way to the ring.

               Sliding under the rope and getting closer to where Elias and Fox stood. As you turned to your corner you see Seth pulling his shirt over his head and you nearly lost all focus. Slowly you walked over to your corner to talk with Seth.

               You weren’t prepared for what happened. Fox attacked you from behind, sending you flying into Seth. You looked him with a smirk on your face and turned to look at her. Launching yourself at her, you hit her with your elbow to the side of her head causing her to stumble back. All she did was shout at you saying you can’t do that. You didn’t listen, you grabbed her arm and flung her into the ropes. She bounced back and you landed a standing drop kick resulting in her falling back to the mat.

               You slid back towards the ropes behind you and sat there for a moment with your hands on the second rope. Readying yourself to fly at her once more. The moment she stood up and faced you, you launched yourself at her hitting her with a wicked spear.

             The crowd was going crazy. Hit after hit to the point where Fox had gotten away from you and tagged Elias in prompting you to step out but not before you slapped the taste out of his mouth for bad mouthing Finn. As you turn to walk back to your corner, Elias grabs you by the hair but his grip didn’t last long. Just seconds after you dropped, Seth came flying off the top turnbuckle hitting Elias in the chest. Elias let go of your hair and you quickly rolled to the side of the ring. Dean was there to see if you were good and you nodded at him before standing up in your corner holding onto the white cord.

             Seth was taking it to Elias. You were trying to keep focused but sweat was covering Seth’s upper body and it was very distracting.

             You saw Elias slide out of the ring and reach for his guitar. Hopping down off the apron, you ran as fast as you could around the ring as Dean went the other way. You hit Fox with a hard elbow before reaching Elias. Seth was in his line of sight and you knew he was going to swing that guitar at him. You shouted at Seth which caused him to look at you then a second later Elias. He stopped Elias from hitting him which caused him to get upset. Elias swung his guitar again but this time instead of hitting Seth, the guitar hit you all. It striking you on the shoulder and head.

          As soon as the guitar hit you the ref called for the bell. You felt a few sets of hands just before you opened your eyes. Ring officials and medical staff were around you and Seth was right next to you. He helped you stand up on uneven feet. You looked at the ring to see a flattened Elias and Dean standing over him with a smirk on his face before he slid out of the ring, over to you and Seth.

          Both of them helped you to the back. You were sure you had a cut on your shoulder but you weren’t sure just how bad it was. At the moment, you and Seth had a victory over Elias and Fox which made you happy.

         The medics checked the side of your head and found no real damage. The only injury you had was a four inch cut on your shoulder which required stitches. Seth stood in front of you as you got them, his hand laying softly on your thigh.

       “That was a hard hit you took out there.” His eyes full of concern.

        “I was prepared for that guitar, I was sure I was going to have to shove you out of the way if he was going to swing at you a second time.” You sat there calmly as the medic finished the last stitch. He tilted his head a little in confusion. “Elias has a tendency to use his guitar during or after his matches so I knew what he was going to do when I saw him go for it. Fox just got in my way.” You laughed a little.

       “Still.”

       “I’m fine Seth, just a cut from a battle that’s all.” You looked around and saw that Dean was nowhere in sight. “Where’s Dean?”

       “He’s probably off talking with Renee about something.”

       “Okay.” The medic just finished cleaning your cut once again and said you were free to go. “Let’s go to catering, I’m hungry.” You hopped off the table and grabbed Seth by the hand, dragging him out of the trainer’s room.

       Seth couldn’t help the smile that played across his lips as he watched you walk in front of him. He thought to himself about this past week of traveling with you and just how much closer you two got.

      He looked around looking to see if there were any cameras around and when he noticed there were none, he pulled you to a stop. He pulled you to him and his lips find yours. To say you wanted this since you met the man would be an understatement. His lips felt amazing, felt right.

       He pulled away and placed his forehead against yours, his signature smirk played across his lips.

      “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

      “Same, big man.” You smirked at him. “Let’s go get something to eat and we can do that kiss again later when we won’t accidentally ruin a story line.” You kissed him on the cheek before walking off. You couldn’t wait for this next week of traveling with the boys.

#seth rollins x reader #seth rollins imagine #seth rollins #dean ambrose #roman reigns #wwe fanfiction

[blushlouise]

How it affects us

“Hey, Hot Spot, what’s with your brother?”

The Protectobot leader looked up at his companion. Hound wasn’t looking at him, though. He was looking across the room to where First Aid was shuffling over to the energon dispenser, head down oozing dejection.

“Oh,” Hot Spot replied, understanding. “He’s grieving.”

Hound stared at him then. “Grieving? Who died? Did he watch that dumpster builder show again?”

Hot Spot grinned and shook his head. Aid had not taken the sight of all those discarded things well. “No, we banned that channel. This time it’s a movie.”

Bumblebee canted his head at them. “A movie?”

“Yes,” Hot Spot confirmed. “We let him at The Hobbit. He just watched The Battle of the Five Armies.”

“You didn’t,” Bumblebee gasped, open shock on his faceplate.

“I did,” Hot Spot replied. “And believe me, I wish I hadn’t. But he’s been ranting about Tolkien since he watched the first Lord of the Rings film, you know that. He’s still got that poster on the back of his door. And the bedlinens. And the sword replica. Pit, the only reason he didn’t actually get the ring was because it was being sold as the One Ring, which he said it obviously wasn’t.”

“Yes,” Bumblebee said pointedly, ignoring Hound’s grin. “But it took him three weeks to get over Haldir. And even longer to get over Frodo leaving! Now he’s going to be moping for months! And don’t look at me like that,” he shot at Hound. “It’s a spark-breaking scene. Even Sunstreaker was upset the first time we watched it.”

“Hush,” Hound said, trying hard to kill his grin. “Here he comes.”

First Aid sat down on the fourth chair, slumping forward over his cube. He was the picture of abject misery.

“Hey Aid,” Bumblebee said sympathetically, ignoring Hot Spot’s exasperated look. “How are you doing?”

First Aid slumped all the way down on the table, hiding his helm in his hands. “They didn’t have to kill them!” he wailed. “Kili never even got the chance to – and Fili was – and Thorin! Thorin was supposed to be King under the Mountain! Not dead!” And then he broke down into spark-wrenching sobs, his body shaking.

Bumblebee shot a look of pure murder at Hot Spot and put his hand on First Aid’s back, stroking him comfortingly. “I know,” he crooned. “I know, that was horrible. But you knew that would happen, right? You’ve read the book.”

“Yes,” First Aid replied tremulously. “But they changed so much other stuff, I thought they would change that, too! And the book didn’t have Tauriel! And there Bilbo’s just told they’re dead, it’s much easier that way!”

“I know,” Bumblebee repeated in that soothing voice. “Come on. Bring your cube, we’re going to go back to your room and watch the bonus material. You haven’t seen that yet, right? Come on.” He tugged at First Aid until the white mech stood up, cradling his cube. “There you go. Come on, Aid.”

Hound stared after them until he left the room, and then he grinned widely again. “Poor kid. He really goes into it, doesn’t he?”

“Way, way too far,” Hot Spot sighed. “But that’s Aid. He just cares. About everything. Even figments of someone’s imagination. The best we can do is limit what he has access to. After this, it’ll be nothing but restoration programs for a while.”

Ratchet walked over then, from where he’d been sitting with Wheeljack. “I’ve taken him off the rotation for now,” he grumbled. Hot Spot wasn’t surprised that the ornery medic had noticed Aid’s outburst – he was pretty sure the whole common room had. “He’s no good until he gets some of it out of his system, anyway. And you -” the red digit stopped only an inch away from Hot Spot’s faceplate, and he flinched backward “- shouldn’t be making a mockery of this. You’re better than that.”

“I’m not mocking him,” Hot Spot protested. “I just don’t understand. It’s not real.”

“It is to him,” Ratchet spat. “You know that. And you know how deeply he feels.”

“Why, though?” Hound asked. “Why care so much about something that doesn’t matter?”

Ratchet sighed and sat down. Hot Spot had a feeling they were in for a lecture. “Because it does,” he replied. “I don’t know why, I’m not a psychologist. But I bet it’s the same thing that has Cliffjumper so upset when his team loses that he takes on slagging Sunstreaker just to get an out. And has Eject crawling into Blaster’s lap at the end of each World Cup because he’s just so overwhelmed that he can’t think straight. That has Mirage –“ and here Hound got a pointed look “- so absorbed in those novels of his. First Aid just feels deeper than most, so when he finds something that draws him in he’s really drawn in. You should respect that. There’s nothing wrong with it.” With a last glare to each of them, he stood up and left.

Hot Spot nodded thoughtfully, then looked at Hound. “You know, he’s right. I think I’m going to go find them. I’ll see you around.”

Hound nodded back as the big mech stood and walked away.

He wasn’t alone for long. His mate was soon occupying the seat Bumblebee had vacated.

“Hey, Mirage,” Hound said, reaching out to touch the black fingers gently. It was the most contact Mirage allowed in public – at least without highgrade involved. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Mirage replied politely. “I’ll answer as best I can.”

“What is it about those romance novels that draws you in?”

  Ratchet watched as Hot Spot went the way his younger brother had gone with Bumblebee earlier. He allowed himself a small smirk.

“Now that expression bodes ill for somebot, Ah’d wager,” a voice whispered in his ear.

“Shut up, Jazz,” Ratchet replied, turning towards the saboteur. “Do you have it?”

“So impatient. D’you know what Ah went through t’ get this for you? It’s not even available here yet. You get the Japanese version without subtitles.”

“You know I’ve implemented Japanese, Jazz. Give it to me.”

“Fine,” the saboteur grinned. “Remember our agreement.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ratchet said, distracted by the datachip in his hand. “I won’t tell Prowl that you’re using your hacking skills for less nefarious purposes than fighting the ‘Cons. And I’ll cover for you next time you’re caught red-handed with medical-grade shock inducers.”

“Excellent.” Jazz flashed him a lazy salute and faded into the shadows.

Ratchet hurriedly subspaced the chip and walked briskly towards his quarters. He had an hour or so before he was supposed to be on shift. That would be just enough time to see how Chise and Elias were doing.

#ifdshare #transformers #g1 #fanfiction #wtf jazz #ratchet #first aid #hot spot #bumblebee

[llaevateinn]

Video Game Asks

Tagged by the brilliant @binishiki :-*

1. Favorite game from the last 5 years? Overwatch

2. Most nostalgic game? Skyrim

3. Game that deserves a sequel? I want another Batman Arkham game

4. Game that deserves a remaster? Look I’ve only gotten into gaming quite recently bc I couldn’t afford it before xD So all “my” games haven’t been out for long enough to warrant a remaster

5. Favorite game series? The original Mass Effect trilogy

6. Favorite genre? First person RPG adventure ?

7. Least favorite genre? 2D side scrolling puzzle/agility games. I am NOT gifted with fast reactions. Oh, and (this is gonna make me enemies) Telltale Games :/ I really liked (watching) The Wolf Among Us don’t get me wrong, but in most other cases the choices all either seemed not impactful at all, or all so terrible in ways you couldn’t have anticipated that it takes the fun out of choosing. Also I hate making choices like that under time pressure.

8. Favorite song from a game? The Road to Masyaf by Lorne Balfe (Assassin’s Creed Revelations)

9. Favorite character from a game? Adam Jensen from Deus Ex

10. Favorite ship from a game? Morreyeson from Overwatch

11. Favorite voice actor from a game? Hmmm tough ... Elias Toufexis as Adam Jensen? Or Troy Baker as Joel in The Last of Us? Or OH Mark Hamill as the Joker in the Batman Arkham series!!

12. Favorite cutscene? Leaving Earth in the beginning of ME3 man that fucks me up

13. Favorite boss? I don’t like boss fights xD Like, at all. They give me immense anxiety. Especially if you have to figure out a special attack to take them down, and they have multiple phases that all need different tactics.

14. First console? PS4

15. Current console or consoles? PS4 lol

16. Console you want? None, really. I’m happy with my PS4.

17. Place from a game that you’d like to visit? Dunwall from Dishonored, post-plague obviously. I’d love going to Karnaca, but I’ll take rats over bloodflies any fucking time tbh

18. Place from a game that you’d like to live in? Tough, idk. They all have massive downsides imho? Ok let me think ... This might be cheating, but I’m going for the Shire from LOTRO bc idyllic and Hobbits.

19. Ridiculous crossover that would never happen but would be super fun? Anything with Mass Effect tbh. Make Shepard meet everyone and react to them

20. Book that would make a good game? Oh, how about .... the Brent Weeks Lightbringer series?? The magic would be an awesome mechanic!

21. Show/Movie that would make a good game? I don’t know how you’d do it, but ... Westworld??

22. Games you want to play? Oh man so many, but also none bc I have to like forcefully convince myself I don’t want to play these games so I won’t want them and be sad at not being able to get and play them. And most of the ones I was looking forward to but I’m not able to get, I watch let’s plays or streams so I still get to experience them.

23. Have you gotten 100% completion in a game? Nope. Most of them time it’s multiplayer stuff that keeps me from getting 100%. Or stuff like the Riddler quests in Batman Arkham Knight *shudders*

24. Have you cried over a game? Yes.

25. What power-up or ability would you want IRL? I want a time stopping ability. Give me time to think and react.

I’m not gonna tag anyone specifically, but if anyone wants, you’re welcome to do this!

#tag chain #don't mind my ranting lol

[magerightsyeah]

I swear its not just because I’m in love with Martin Freeman but I am in love with Bilbo Baggins

This man has so much love in his heart and for what??

For me that’s what.

I want him to make me a nice cup of coffee and talk about his day

I want to fold his clothes and leave them neatly on his bed so he doesn’t have to worry about it while he works on his book

I want to wrap my arms around him and kiss him from behind while I set freshly baked scones in front of him because he can forget to eat when he’s working

I have a lot of feelings about Bilbo Baggins okay??

#elias watches lotr #elias watches the hobbit #bilbo Baggins appreciation post #bilbo baggins #the hobbit #jrr tolkien #elias rambles #long post #personal #mlm #men ❤️ #martin freeman #lotr movies #hobbit movies #domestic mlm #domestic #domestic life #grey ace #demisexual #acespec #lotr #lotr trilogy

[kaibuntsu]

Changeling, Demon, Dragons, Werewolf ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

oh, Noodles, you never disappoint

Changeling- Do you have any monster OCs?

Uh…would my monsterframe Excalibur, Asa, count as a monster OC? lol

I guess the monsters I featured in my writing so far could be considered as my OCs, but I don’t flesh them out enough.

Demon- What personality traits do you tend to like in monsters?

I like the gentle, caring, curious ones like the one I wrote in The Passive Observer. Or the oblivious almost childish kind like Monsterframe Asa. Or angry, dealing with existential crisis like BlackWargreymon.

Look, just give me a well-written, well-rounded characters, and my ass will be rolling all over it!

Dragon- How did you first find out that you were into monsters?

‘Twas the golden year of 2000-2001, methinks, so I was like 9 years old. Digimon was a HUGE thing in Indonesia, I dare say more popular than Pokemon back in the day, and its second series had been running for a while. I had to google for this, but it was on episode 30, when he was introduced to the show, wrecking ass and being the angery boi he was born to be. Two weeks later, the episode where he met Taichi’s Agumon aired, in that episode, he was having this really serious existential questions, see. That episode moved me as a kid.

Then I went to take a bath, you see, and it was under the shower that I started thinking about him, how sorry I felt for his character, how I wish I had been his Tamer and maybe he won’t be as miserable. And that’s when I realize, “Damn, I have serious feelings for this fictional character who is not human and an anti-hero to boot!”

I thought it was just this weird thing I did as a kid, but I watched it again when I was in college and whaddaya know. Feelings haven’t changed. I’ve fallen for the regular Wargreymon too during that period. 

Werewolf- What’s one monster from a book/movie/etc that you find attractive?

Other than BWG, that would be…

Elias from TAMB

Dancer of the Boreal Valley from Dark Souls 3

Smaug from the Hobbit movies

JUST THE ENTIRE ROYAL KNIGHTS FROM THE DIGIMON FRANCHISE

#the ???? hour #ask prompts #noodlesthestalker #if you can't tell already #i really REALLY love digimon #like obsessively

[fardell24b]

Lawndale and Sandi Griffin’s Genie - Chapter 1 - Part 2

“These are new,” Jean said, as she looked at the computers.

“Were not there any computers the last time you were out of the Emerald?” Sandi asked. She was wondering how long Jean had been in there. 'Long enough for these computers to be surprise,' she thought.

“They did exist, but they weren't advanced enough to be used as a cataloguing system in a High School library.” She looked to be in awe at the advancement of technology.

“Interesting,” Sandi stated. She then wondered how they could be easier used. She decided that voice recognition would be interesting to have: At least that is what it is called in those shows that Stacy watches,’ she thought. She grabbed the emerald, which was on a necklace that she was wearing. ‘Good thing that its green matches that of my eyes.’

“I wish that the computers in the school will be able to be controlled by voice, and that they would have the components necessary for that to work,” she said.

 “This will take a few moments,” Jean said. She closed her eyes and concentrated as she and the emerald scanned all the computers in the school. (She had been aware of them earlier after Sandi had wished for her to be on the enrolment records, but now she needed to understand them better.)

 After scanning the hardware and the software of every computer in the school and then understanding all of them, she was ready.  She granted Sandi’s wish. A barely visible ripple emanated out from Jean and the emerald, carrying the wish granting sound with it. As it struck each computer in the school it changed them, giving them microphones, speakers and voice recognition software compatible with the operating system that the particular computers were running.

Where there wasn’t enough hard drive space, the wave increased the capacity of the drive to compensate. All the computers in the school were affected, from the more recent Pentium II’s running Windows 98 and iMacs running MacOS 8.5, through to the 386’s running Windows 3.11 and Macintosh II’s running System 7.5. Jean also placed some ‘Easter Eggs’ on many of the computers...

 “The wish is granted,” Jean said, once the conversion processes were complete.

 “I would have thought that it would have been quicker,” Sandi said.

 “The bigger the wish, the longer it takes to be completed,” Jean said. Sandi gave this some thought. “I suppose so,” she said. She lead Jean over to the closest of the cataloguing computers.

 “Catalogue: Like, show me the listings for any books containing information on genie legends,” she said. After a few seconds the database software returned Sandi’s query. There were 3 books.

 “Cool,” she said. She took out a notepad from her purse and wrote down the Dewey Decimal numbers that had come up.

 “Let’s go,” she said to Jean as she went towards the first relevant section of the bookshelves.

  However, Sandi did not know that the School Librarian, Michaela Daniels, had seen and heard everything after her wish for the computers to be able to be controlled by voice.

 As Sandi and Jean walked into the midst of the non-fiction section she ran what happened through her mind. Sandi’s wish, Jean’s response and gesture, the wish granting noise, the ripple carrying the wish granting noise, a different noise coming from the computers in the library as they were altered and Sandi ordering books via voice... She came to the conclusion that Jean was a genie (though she still didn’t know her name).

  Meanwhile at the front of the school, Stacy Rowe and Tiffany Blum-Deckler had arrived. “Whe-ere’s Sand-di?” Tiffany asked after a minute of looking for her.

 “I don’t know,” Stacy said. ‘Maybe she is late,’ she thought. Tiffany reached into her handbag and took out her cell phone.

 “Tooo bad Sand-di doesn’t ha-ave her own Ce-ell Pho-one,” Tiffany said.

 “You could try her house,” Stacy said.

 “Oh Yeaaah,” Tiffany said, as she dialled the Griffin’s home phone number.

 “Hello; you have reached the Griffin’s Residence, we are not at home now. Would you please leave a message,” came the recording of Linda’s voice from the Griffin’s answering machine.

 Stacy looked at Tiffany. “We will wait for Quinn. She will know what to do,” she said.

 “Oh Yeaaah,” Tiffany said. She placed her cell phone back into her handbag and took out a mirror. Stacy sighed.

  Back in the library Sandi was talking to Elias Howarth, whom she had dated a couple of times.

“...Like, I am looking for a book for class. Mr DeMartino gave me a C on my last test. My Mom insists that I keep a B average,” Sandi said after Elias had asked why Sandi was in the library. ‘And most of it is true,’ Sandi mused. Linda did insist that she had moderately good grades and Mr DeMartino had given her a C on her last test.

 “That is fine, Sandi. It’s not like you’re a brain, like a certain Junior I have often run into,” Elias said.

 ‘While dating Quinn no doubt,’ Sandi thought.

 “Anyway, who is this new friend?” Elias asked.

 “Hi Elias. I am Jean Jenner. I am on exchange from Britain, staying with the Griffins. It seems that I have picked up the American accent well.”

 “Interesting. If you are available at Recess I would like to find out more,” Elias said.

 “Sure,” Jean said. Elias said goodbye to Sandi and left.

 “He is a little geeky, but, like, his cuteness makes up for that geekiness,” Sandi said. She then found the first of the books that she was looking for. She grabbed it from the bookshelf...

  Meanwhile Quinn Morgendorffer had arrived at school. She had walked up to Stacy and Tiffany and asked; “Where’s Sandi?”

 “We-e Dooon’t knooow,” Tiffany said.

 “I thought that maybe you would know,” Stacy said. Quinn thought for a few seconds.

 “Something may have come up. I am sure that we’ll see in her in class,” she said.

 “Oh Yeaaah.”

 “That is a good idea, Quinn,” Stacy said. The three friends then went into the school.

  Michaela had gone to the CD-ROM reference computer and had started to use the voice recognition software. Elias noticed her and went over to her. He was quite sure that even if voice recognition software existed that the school wouldn’t be able to afford it. “Since when do we have computers with voice recognition software?” he asked, the curiosity showing in his voice.

 “I am as confused as you are,” Michaela said.

 “Really?” Elias asked, surprised that the librarian would admit that.

 “You have met Sandi’s new friend?” Michaela asked. Elias nodded in the affirmative and she continued, “She could be some kind of genie. I think I heard Sandi wish for the computers to change.” She also explained Jean’s body language and the strange sounds.

 “That is only a possibility. There could be others,” Elias said. He was uncertain. A genie could explain at lot of things. “I will investigate Jean, that is the name that she gave me, and I’ll get back to you,” he continued.

 “That would be a good idea,” Michaela said. Elias went over to the Cataloguing computers.

  Ted Dewitt-Clinton was already at the cataloguing computers, looking something up. Elias could see that Sandi and Jean were out of sight, somewhere in a distant corner of the library. He decided to tell Ted the librarian’s suspicions.

 “Ted? Have you seen Sandi Griffin this morning?” he asked.

 “Why do you ask?” Ted asked, curiously.

 “She had this person with her. It wasn’t one of her usual Fashion Club friends,” Elias said.

 “Yes. I did see her and someone else enter the library earlier,” Ted said.

 “Anyway, Ted, Mrs Daniels thinks that that person is a genie,” Elias said, hoping that Ted did know what a genie was.

 “You mean a genie like one in the old Arabian tales, or like the more recent Disneyfied versions? Why would she think that?” Ted mused.

 “The computers in the library can suddenly respond to voice commands,” Elias said to Ted. Then to the computer “Computer: List all works by JRR Tolkien.”

 Ted gave Elias a dubious look as he gave his answer but then he looked at the screen.

 AUTHOR SEARCH: JRR Tolkien

 Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring TOLK 5 copies

 Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers TOLK 5 copies

 Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King TOLK 5 copies

 Lord of the Rings: Omnibus Edition TOLK 4 copies

 The Hobbit TOLK 6 copies

 The Silmarillion TOLK 2 copies

 The Unfinished Tales TOLK 1 copy

 “Amazing!” Ted said, more at the computer having voice recognition software, rather than the school having multiple copies of most of the Middle Earth Legendarium, although he appreciated the latter too.

 “See?” Elias asked. He already knew that the library had multiple copies of LOTR.

 “Ok. Possibly, I will look into it,” Ted said, thinking that there could be other reasons why the computers suddenly had voice recognition software.

 “Cool. I will do so as well, but we have to be discrete about it,” Elias said.

 “No problem there,” Ted said. Then the bell rang. They quickly left the library, not knowing that Sandi had heard most of their conversation.

 “Gee, Jean, I hope that they will not, like, confirm their suspicions,” she said.

 “You could have made a subtler wish,” Jean said. Sandi placed the book she had been reading down next to the cataloguing computer, glancing at the Tolkien list.

 “Maybe, but now I have lost track of time. Quinn could be turning Stacy and Tiffany against me,” Sandi said.

 “In fifteen minutes?” Jean asked as they left the library.

 “You don’t know Quinn! Let’s go to homeroom. You did put yourself into my homeroom didn’t you?” Sandi asked.

 “Yes, of course I did,” Jean said. They went towards the building in which their homeroom was...

#daria #fanfic #linda griffin #quinn morgendorffer #sandi griffin #stacy rowe #ted dewit-clinton #tiffany blum-deckler

[backofthebookshelf]

Hobbit Birthday Fic #3 (soft peterjon)

anne asked for some soft peterjon (please feel free to imagine this taking place in the same universe as #2′s martinelias, I certainly am)

//

"Finished bothering Elias for the day, have you?" Jon asks dryly before the fog has even properly settled into a human form.

"Not quite," Peter says cheerfully. "But he won't skip his meetings, and the Archives are always quiet."

"Until you show up," Jon mutters, but it doesn't have the venom in it that it could have. Besides, an interruption isn't wholly unwelcome. It isn't a recording day, and he's not getting anywhere with this collection of old inventory checklists; it's probably time to try another approach.

He's sweeping his notes and files back into their respective folders – he doesn't think there's any danger in Peter catching a glimpse of twenty-year-old paperwork from Artefact Storage, but a little caution never hurts – when he starts at a warm arm wrapped around his shoulders and a kiss pressed to the top of his head. "Such a diligent little Archivist," Peter murmurs into his ear. "Elias must be very proud."

Jon slumps back against him, leaning his head back to rest on Peter's broad chest. "You're just pleased I'm not running around with bags full of explosives," he says (filing away that "little" for an argument for another time), mostly because he still has difficulty fathoming what exactly keeps drawing Peter back here, if it isn't paranoia about Gertrude Robinson's successor.

"That does sound very dangerous," Peter agrees. "Best to avoid that sort of thing." He rests his chin on the top of Jon's head, which ought to be annoying. Instead it feels rather like watching a blinding storm through a window: utterly cut off from the outside world, but safe.

He fights to keep his eyes open. He's going to maintain some level of professionalism, dammit, even if no one else seems to. "Are you going to let me get back to work?" he asks, in lieu of actually doing anything to try to dislodge the man. Peter hums noncommittally. Jon sighs, and resigns himself to a mid-afternoon nap.

#the magnus archives #tma fic #peterjon #my fic #peter lukas #jonathan sims #hobbit birthday party 2020

[samwpmarleau]

It's shameless anon that asked you dinner au. I come back again. I see that Elia/Arthur(seven bless them) is your otp (MINE TOO!). So I get little bit encouraged if you could contunie your modern au Arthur as soldier I would die happy. To be specific would you consider a fic where Arthur wakes up from a nightmare but doesn't disturb Elia and somehow Rhaenys wakes up and talks to him. Like helping him. Sorry if I'm being annoying. Your works are always lovely!

Uh, you are most definitely not annoying. I adore your prompts. Keep them coming!

I did kind of Frankenstein this one, though. I also have no personal experience with PTSD (or car accidents) except what I’ve read about on the internet, so probably most of this is totally contrived but if anyone reads this who knows better than I about this stuff and takes issue with how it’s presented here, please let me know so I can fix it!

Hey Tomorrow

“Hi, you’ve reached Judy Thompson. I can’t come to the phone right now—”

“Ugh,” Rhaenys groans, jabbing at the End Call button. She’s tried literally all of her friends and their parents, and not a single one of them has answered. They have almost the same voice messages, too, and she’s sick of hearing them. “‘If you ever need a ride, just call, and I’ll pick up.’ Yeah, right. Thanks for nothing, Mrs. Thompson.”

She can feel the after-school instructor’s eyes on her, and steadfastly pretends she can’t. Mrs. Gorf is no one’s idea of a competent or engaging teacher, about a hundred years old on top of that, and a stickler for rules. None of her friends’ parents are Rhaenys’s parent or guardian, but they’re also booster club members and on the PTA; not even Mrs. Gorf would be able to refuse them.

Not that it matters, because they’re not picking up the phone.

A final, terrible, no good, awful thought wrenches its way into her mind, and after wrestling with it, she comes to the unfortunate conclusion that it’s her only choice if she ever wants to get out of this place. Mother isn’t an option, Egg definitely isn’t, and Father’s much too far away. But if even he doesn’t answer…

“You want a parent or guardian,” Rhaenys says to Mrs. Gorf, shuddering at the clicking of the woman’s dentures. “What about a…a stepparent?”

Mrs. Gorf stares at her some more, then replies, “Yes, that would be acceptable. Though I was not aware Mrs. Targaryen had remarried.”

“Martell,” Rhaenys corrects. “Mother’s never been a Targaryen.”

And she’d skin you for saying so, you hobbit.

“Oh, she’s one of those women. No wonder she’s divorced.” Mrs. Gorf curls her lip. “Exactly when did she remarry?”

“Um, it was super recent. She didn’t want to make a fuss or anything, so no one at school has heard about it.”

Mostly because it’s totally false. Not that I’m going to tell you that.

For a moment, she thinks her lie doesn’t stick, but then Mrs. Gorf waves her hand in what Rhaenys assumes is acquiescence. Rhaenys dials yet another number quickly, glad she hadn’t thrown away the sticky note Mother had written with his information on it. Before she can wonder whether Arthur will be as flaky as her friends’ parents, he answers.

“Rhae? What is it, are you okay? Egg, your mother, are they—”

“No, we’re fine,” she says, realizing that naturally he’d think someone was in mortal danger, because why else would she call if not for a life or death emergency?

After a long pause, he asks, “Oh. Then…what do you need?”

In a last ditch effort for freedom, Rhaenys peeks at Mrs. Gorf, whose eyes are narrowed in suspicion and decidedly unsympathetic. Setting aside her pride, she presses on, “You have to come get me. I had that after-school project, none of my friends’ parents are picking up, and Mrs. Gorf won’t let me leave.”

“Gorf? Is that the one who looks like a troll?”

If he were anyone else, she’d have laughed; as it is, she doesn’t so much as chuckle. “Yeah, that one. So are you going to come or not?”

“Yeah, of course. Let me just—yeah, sit tight. I’ll be there soon.”

He hangs up before she does, and she tries to ignore the feeling of irritation that courses through her. Somewhere, she knows it’s not totally rational to have so much distaste for him, not when he makes Mother smile and stays up all night helping Egg with science experiments, but the sensation persists. Three years and counting.

The minutes tick by like hours, Mrs. Gorf hovering over her and Rhaenys watching the pick-up area just as intently. At ten minutes on the dot, she finally sees Arthur’s truck pull into the lane, and she bounces her leg, itching to leave. The bell above the door jingles as Arthur enters, and Mrs. Gorf immediately begins sizing him up with those judgy, rheumy eyes.

“And you are…?”

“Arthur Dayne, Rhaenys’s…er…” Arthur trails off, not sure exactly what he is to her. Rhaenys can’t riddle it out either, but is more than willing to hang him out to dry. “Her mother and I are together.”

“‘Together’?” Mrs. Gorf pounces on the word like a hawk. “Miss Targaryen stated that you are her stepfather.”

He’s plainly taken aback at the news, so Rhaenys shoots every imploring, telepathic wave in the book at him. Followed by, Don’t make this a thing. You’re my get-out-of-jail-free card, that’s it.

“More or less,” Arthur hedges, receiving her not-so-subtle signals. Apparently almost as anxious as she is to escape Mrs. Gorf’s company, he adds, “Sorry to make you stay late, ma’am. We’ll just be going now. Come on, Rhae.”

For once doing as he asks, Rhaenys snatches up her backpack and all but sprints out the door and into Arthur’s truck. It smells like he does, worn leather and pine, plus a hint of Mother’s perfume. Not altogether unpleasant, but for its owner. When he gets into the driver’s seat, the silence is instantly stifling, the awkwardness only increasing the further away they get.

Wanting—needing—to mitigate the oppression, Rhaenys channels Nana Rhaella’s patience and mutters, “Thanks. For…whatever.”

He appraises her curiously, so she turns away and instead studies the road ahead more intently than strictly necessary. Not taking the hint, he answers, “Always.”

She’d retort, but retorting would mean talking to him, and she’s already done more of that than usual today, so she leaves his offer unacknowledged. The quiet continues on and on, until suddenly it doesn’t. They approach an intersection and as if in a movie, she watches as one car rushes through a red light and speeds straight into the one with the right of way.

Arthur screeches to a halt, Rhaenys exceedingly glad she’s wearing a seatbelt, for elsewise she’d surely be propelled straight into the windshield. There’s a horrible screeching sound as the cars ahead tangle up with one another, smoke issuing from the hoods, glass littering the pavement, pools of fluids spreading across the scene. Some loud bangs erupt from somewhere within the whole mess, and she doesn’t know much about cars, but she would guess that’s not a good sign.

Shaking her head to clear it, she quickly comes to her senses. “I’ll call 911,” she announces, pulling out her cell.

She goes through the motions, feeling weirdly disconnected from the whole thing as she speaks with the operator. Once she ends the call, it occurs to her that Arthur hasn’t said a word this whole time, and she looks over, bemused. His hands are clenched white-knuckled on the steering wheel, his posture rigid, his eyes glazed over as he stares at the destruction in front of them. He’s muttering something, she realizes now, mostly nonsense and a couple names, she thinks, but she can’t make any of them out.

“Uh, Arthur?” she prompts, more than a little weirded out at the reaction. The accident is bad, but not that bad. There’s no fiery inferno, no one lying dead on the street, not even a police cruiser.

Just as she’s wondering if she should call the hospital and beg them to let her talk to Mother, Arthur jolts into action, which she’d think was a good thing were it not for the fact that his face is still blank, like he’s seeing but not seeing. He unbuckles his seatbelt and throws open the door, racing up to the car that was hit.

“What the hell?” she grumbles, hurrying after him. Okay, she’s not his biggest fan, like at all, but she doesn’t want him to die, and she’s pretty sure cars can explode. She keeps what she thinks is a safe distance, watching as he does his best to wrench his way into the cab, seemingly not caring about the oil and whatever else seeping into his jeans.

“Oz!” he yells in a panic. “Bull! Don’t worry, I’m gonna get you out of here, both of you, you’re gonna be fine!”

The driver inside is just beginning to rouse, more than a little disoriented but so far as she can tell not horribly injured, all things considered.

“You’re okay,” continues Arthur, apparently not noticing what she does. “You’re okay, you’re fine, Sana’s fine, I radioed for help, the medivac is on its way, just hold on, please…”

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Rhaenys finally realizes what’s happening. She’s never seen it personally, he and Mother had certainly never let on that this was an issue, but she’s heard Iris recount her dad’s episodes more than once. And suddenly, everything else slips into place, things she hadn’t really paid attention to before.

Why they never sit near windows in restaurants and why Arthur is always the one facing the door, why he never goes out with them on the Fourth of July, why of his past he only ever talks about college or hockey instead of the years that followed, why some mornings he and Mother look utterly exhausted, why every night he triple-checks the locks around the house even though they live in a stupidly boring neighborhood, why he’s always up just before sunrise.

Before, she’d just thought them weird habits, she hadn’t ever considered they might be something else.

And of course, of course, this would happen in the middle of a random intersection miles from home when Mother’s unreachable. Of course it wouldn’t be Egg here, Egg who actually likes Arthur, Egg who’s probably read several books about this.

She doesn’t know anything. Not about this, not about Arthur, not about the people he’s remembering, the event he’s remembering, she doesn’t even know what he did in the military. Mother hadn’t told her, and most definitely she hadn’t ever bothered asking.

Her savior as much as the drivers’, the ambulance arrives in all its blaring glory. They brush right past her, instead beelining one apiece to the cars, but they would have to be blind to not register Arthur, and upon preliminarily checking that the hit driver is stable, the nearby paramedic attempts to bring Arthur back to reality. It doesn’t work, so instead he whistles for a set of EMTs, and they grab him bodily in order to, she supposes, restrain him until further assistance can arrive.

It doesn’t work. For however much Rhaenys hates him, she’ll admit that he’s always been gregarious, so downright gentle with Mother, that his physique had never really been intimidating. But now, his height, his mass, his agitation, it makes the EMTs’ jobs incredibly difficult. All the while, she hears him protest, more and more anguished by the minute. “Get off me, I can still—they’re not, they can’t be, let me go, I have to—”

The paramedic searches the back of the ambulance for something that she’d bet isn’t water. “You’re doing it wrong!” she shouts.

He whirls, catching sight of her. “Kiddo, you shouldn’t be here, it’s dangerous.”

“I’m not a ‘kiddo,’” she objects hotly, “and he needs help, not a tranquilizer dart or whatever it is you grabbed.”

“Do you know him?” he asks. “Is that your dad?”

She shakes her head, because no, she has a father and Arthur’s not him.

“You need to leave then, now.”

Part of her wants to, but the rest of her isn’t so cowardly. Plus, Mother would never forgive her, and Rhaenys isn’t sure she could handle a lifetime of her cold shoulder. “He’s not my dad, but I know him,” she blurts. “I do, I know him. He’s my mom’s boyfriend.”

“Oh,” says the paramedic, now all business. “Well, I’ve called in backup, but we have to prioritize. That other driver is in critical condition, this one may have internal injuries, and we can’t do our jobs if we’ve got a case of PTSD to handle, too. Can you pull him out of it?”

He needs you, Mother, not me. I can’t do this. “I don’t know. I have no idea what I’d say.”

“Try. We have a sedative if required. Holler for one of the EMTs if you think he’ll hurt you.”

“He won’t hurt me.” The statement comes on reflex, and yet it’s not as surprising as she wishes it were. He and Mother have arguments all the time, loud ones but frivolous, but he’s never raised his voice at Rhaenys, not ever, no matter how much she probably deserved it. She doesn’t know this Arthur in front of her now, yet she’s confident in this one thing, and so she repeats, “He won’t.”

The paramedic is skeptical but has more pressing problems so allows her to scurry forth and kneel down beside Arthur. Stupidly, the only things that run through her mind are how much she’d always resented him, loathed him, and how Iris said that sometimes not even her mother could break her father out of his flashbacks, both of which are only made worse by the fact that she can feel the two EMTs wanting her to hurry the hell up.

“Arthur, it’s me,” she tries, her voice cringingly small. “It’s Rhaenys. Remember? You picked me up from school, you called Mrs. Gorf ‘ma’am’ even though she’s a skeevy old hag and Uncle Lewyn says that when she was his teacher, he once saw her turn someone into an apple.” She’s rambling, she’s fully aware of that, she just can’t seem to stop. “Oh, I’m no good at this.”

She’s startled by a shout from the paramedic by the other car. “He’s coding! Leave the kid, I need you two here!”

There’s barely time to register the EMTs letting go of Arthur and giving her a few short, uninspired bits of encouragement before they’re running off, leaving her alone. Alone-ish. He’s not physically struggling so hard anymore, but it’s not much of a comfort.

She remembers what Iris also said, that sometimes it helped to remind her dad of who he is not who he was, so in desperation, she speaks the truth, even if it’s a truth she’s always balked at. “You love my mother, and she loves you. You love Egg and you…you love me, and…” Unable to look at him, she instead looks somewhere in the vicinity of his knee. “And I know I’m the only reason you and Mother haven’t married yet. Because you want me to approve and you want me to like you, and I don’t.”

He hasn’t stopped saying those names, Oz and Bull and Sana, but, and it’s probably her imagination, she thinks maybe he’s not fighting quite as much. “But I…I don’t hate you. I don’t think. Not really. I mean, I kinda do, but…but maybe not forever.” For some lame reason, her vision goes blurry, and she blinks a few times to focus. Wanting to shunt aside the weakness, she forces herself to look at him again. “I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t know where to go from here, can’t think of anything, and she wonders how she’ll explain to Mother that Arthur’s been put under sedation and it’s her fault. Except then she notices that his eyes are beginning to slowly slide back into focus, that he’s actually seeing her, and eventually his body stills completely.

“Rhae?” She thinks it’s the first time she’s been grateful to hear him say her name. “Where are—but—what happened?”

She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, abruptly self-conscious about all that she’d said. “You had a nightmare or something. Daymare, whatever.”

Arthur surveys the area, the crashed cars, the trapped drivers, the billowing smoke, the scent of burnt rubber in the air, and his face goes ashen. She sees the instant he realizes what his episode was, and digs the heels of his palms into his forehead. “Jesus fuck.” He must really be out of it, she reflects, if he swore in front of her. Mother gets livid if she says “crap”; Rhaenys would get grounded for a month if she even thought the F-word. Absently, Arthur asks, “Did I hurt you?”

“No, you didn’t.” He lets out a breath, as relieved as if she told him he doesn’t have terminal cancer.

The surreality of the situation rescinds her admittedly flimsy impulse control, and she asks, “Who are Oz and Bull?”

Slowly, warily, Arthur lifts his head. “What?”

“Oz and Bull. And, um, Sana? You…you were trying to save them.” Arthur doesn’t say anything, so she does. “Iris said it’s good to talk about these things, you know, that it helps her dad.”

Though, she grants, Mr. Roark was discharged over a decade ago and I have no clue what Arthur’s job was.

So long is he quiet, she nearly jumps when he begins to talk. “Major Oswell Whent and Colonel Gerold Hightower. They…we were on a mission, we were guarding this little Iraqi girl who was helping us identify some members of the Taliban, and Oz and Bull were returning from what was supposed to be a routine supply run.”

He says it all with a detached sort of tone, like he’s speaking to a wall, and she prays he won’t relapse. “We had daily confirmation that it was safe, that there weren’t any insurgents or IEDs in range, it was supposed to be—” He swallows. “They were in sight, Sana even ran out to greet them, when the Semtex went off. It was so close I got hit by some shrapnel, but I…they were in bad shape. I radioed base, but we were too far away for them to get to us in time. Oz and Bull were too damn honorable to even want me to get help for them, they just wanted to know if Sana was okay.”

“Was she?”

Arthur shakes his head. “She was near on top of the blast. She had no protection, hers was quick, but theirs…” Whatever he must have seen, whatever memories he carries with him, she wouldn’t wish on anyone. Not him, not even Mrs. Gorf. “Rhae, I’m sorry.”

Frowning at the change in subject, she asks, “Sorry? Why?”

“I never wanted you or Egg to witness…this,” he answers quietly. “I don’t deserve your pity.”

“You don’t deserve it?”

He massages his temples, eyes shut tight, though whether it’s for fighting off another flashback or something else, she can’t tell. “I did things I’m not proud of. Things I shouldn’t have done. I’ve hurt a lot of people, and I’ll…I’ll never be clean of that.”

“You haven’t hurt Mother,” she shrugs. “Or Egg.”

“I’ve hurt you. I know how miserable you are by me being in your life, but I’ve stayed anyway because it’s what I want, never mind what you want.”

She doesn’t think now is particularly the best time to get into her dislike. “What about guarding that girl? That was something you’re not proud of?”

He laughs, a brutal, discordant sound. “I did a pretty shitty job of protecting her. But it wasn’t that, it was later. They moved me to a different division and to stop thinking about that day, I turned everything off, good or bad. It was easier.”

Ever since Grandfather refused to say anything nice to or about her, Rhaenys has wanted to be treated like a grownup, to not be sheltered, to be told everything that’s going on. At the moment, she might want to revise that wish. “Does Mother know?”

“Most of it. For some reason, she still keeps me around. God only knows why.”

I know why. Herself, she’s having a difficult time letting go of even a speck of her resentment towards him, so built up as it is, but putting herself in Mother’s shoes isn’t that difficult. After ten years of Grandfather’s hatred and hubris, and Nana’s sadness, she guesses it must be nice for Mother to be around someone who’s so self-sacrificing. And she guesses it’s nice that he can fix things and reach the top shelf and show up at Egg’s plays and cook her favorite food with all the right spices and always be there for Mother no matter how sick she gets.

And drop everything to pick me up from school in the middle of the day.

Yes, must be nice. For Mother. Obviously. Not her.

She’s not sure what else to say, but fortunately she’s saved by the arrival of the same paramedic who’d instructed her to help Arthur. “I’m glad you got this sorted out,” he says to her, surprised. He turns to Arthur then and asks, “How are you, sir?”

“Fine,” says Arthur, and he’s much harder to read than Father, but even she can hear the lie in  his voice, see the strain on his face.

“Pleased to hear it,” says the paramedic. He holds out his hand. “And thank you for your service.”

Arthur’s jaw clenches, and he can’t quite manage a smile, but shakes the paramedic’s hand anyway. “Just doing my civic duty.” Before the paramedic can say anything else, Arthur heads him off. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take Rhae home now.”

The paramedic becomes uncomfortable, and counters, “I can’t recommend that. Given the severity of your reaction, it wouldn’t be prudent for me to approve you to drive.”

Rhaenys is no fan of being told what to do, and though the paramedic is talking to Arthur, it affects her too. “He was a captain in the Marines, for years,” she snaps. “Yet you think it’s somehow beyond him to drive us a few miles home? Stick to putting Band-Aids on people. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Rhaenys.” It’s admonishment, sort of, but there’s the barest hint of amusement in it, too.

The paramedic, on the other hand, is plainly irritated by her outburst but is also apparently still intent on showing Arthur a modicum of due respect. “Even if I could sign off on his mental state, I wouldn’t be able to let you go with him anyway. Only a parent or guardian can escort a minor from the premises. ‘Mom’s boyfriend’ doesn’t fly with us.”

Oh, come on. Not you guys too. Mrs. Gorf was bad enough.

“Her mother’s in the hospital,” Arthur points out. “I can’t reach her.”

“She’s got a dad, doesn’t she?”

The mention of Father is what sets her off, as though the paramedic knows anything about her family. She glances at Arthur, whose expression is somewhere between pain, irritation, and exasperation, then fixes the paramedic with a hateful glare.

“You said a parent or guardian,” she declares, grasping Arthur’s hand. “I’ve got one.”

#arthur dayne #rhaenys targaryen #arthur x elia #asoiaf #got fic #my fic #tw ptsd #(sort of--there's nothing graphic) #verse: same auld lang syne #compliance: modern au #anonymous