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shiveringsoldier · 10 months

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I wrote an 1100-word review/essay about Dunkirk (2017) on a whim. Please enjoy.

-All we did is survive.

-That’s enough.

I don’t know if I can truly articulate just how much I adore this film, but I’ll try.

I’ll start with the tone. The tension is palpable from the first frame to the last. Even in the seemingly calm moments, the unease remains. Something seems off, or you sense the possibility that at any moment things can go horribly wrong. One can only sustain a suspenseful tone for so long, and Dunkirk is the perfect length for it.

The score and sound design do a lot to maintain that tone. The first two or three times I saw this film, I quite literally jumped at the first round of gunfire. The scream of the Stukas is terrifying, and the screams of soldiers under attack are jarring. Even when things are quiet, sound is a dead giveaway for things to come, whether it’s the barely perceptible rustle of an oncoming torpedo or trickles of water escalating to a flooded ship. The score is more about mood than melody. The use of tritones and the Shepard tone illusion add to the unease and tension, and the momentary triumph in the score as the little ships arrive feels so incredibly earned. This even continues through the end credits, with the score beginning with the more triumphant music and ending with Shivering Soldier’s leitmotif.

The cinematography is immaculate, from the aerial shots to the close-ups to the lighting to the blue and yellow color palette. I like the different timelines and the way they all come together for the climax and resolution. Everyone in the cast delivers a top-notch performance. And the minimal dialogue is so realistic. I love that there are no eloquent speeches or monologues. I love that we hear Churchill’s speech not through Churchill’s mouth but through a monotone reading from an exhausted Tommy. Collins and Farrier only communicate in compliance with RAF protocol. The communication among Tommy, Gibson, and Alex is largely nonverbal, mostly through glances and nods. The most verbal characters (Mr. Dawson, Peter, and George) are the ones who have known each other the longest. The first time I watched Dunkirk, I don’t think I noticed that Gibson hadn’t said anything until Alex pointed it out, but I guess that goes to show the effectiveness of the minimal dialogue.

A common criticism of the film, at least in 2017, is that the characters are poorly defined. I have never shared that issue. Despite the lack of extensive backstory – and, in some cases, the lack of names – for everyone except the Dawsons and George, I found myself deeply invested in every character the first time I saw this film back in July 2017, and I have found myself becoming even more invested over time. One video essay I saw says the characters in the film are defined by their actions, and I think that’s a very accurate assessment. We see that Gibson is resourceful. Collins is not as experienced as Farrier. Farrier’s stoic veneer occasionally cracks. Shivering Soldier appears to have been confident and practical prior to his traumatic event. Commander Bolton is calm and authoritative. Colonel Winnant keeps his composure despite his growing stress and despair. Tommy is aware of his surroundings. Alex is prone to paranoia and low self-esteem. Plus every character is driven by the inherently human need to survive and/or to help others. All of this is more than enough to get me invested.

Speaking of help, this film is filled with small but impactful moments of kindness. Tommy helps Gibson bury a body, and Gibson offers him water once the deed is done. Civilians offer food, tea, blankets, life jackets, and words of encouragement to weary soldiers. Soldiers treat dead bodies floating in the water with deference. Collins greets Peter with “Afternoon” after Peter rescues him. Mr. Dawson’s first action after rescuing Shivering Soldier is to ask him his name. Peter later lies to that same soldier to protect his feelings. No one can do anything to make this horrible situation go away, but everyone does what little they can to make the situation a little more bearable.

And I would be remiss if I didn’t talk at some length about Shivering Soldier, my favorite character from this film and one of my favorite characters period. He had my heart from the moment I saw him crouched atop the hull of the sunken ship, and my love for him has only grown over time. He doesn’t get a name, but he does get his own track in the score. We have only a vague idea of the trauma he’s experienced, but the flashback scene tells us it must have been something truly horrific. I’ve heard a couple of people say they didn’t even realize it was the same character at first. It is horrifying to think about his journey from escape to near death to rescue only to be forced to return to the hell from which he so desperately needs to escape. And as someone who survived multiple traumatic events in a span of about 13 months, I find myself relating almost uncomfortably to him.

I can’t speak highly enough about Cillian Murphy’s performance. He may not have terribly many lines, but he tells you everything with his eyes and his body language and the way he retreats into himself and recoils at the slightest provocation. I love that his panic builds up gradually rather than all at once. You know that it’s only a matter of time before he reaches his breaking point, and there’s nothing you can do but watch. And despite his inadvertent killing of George, I adore how sympathetic the film is to him. Mr. Dawson is so kind to him and tells George (and the audience by extension) that the soldier is traumatized, not cowardly. When Peter lies to the soldier and says George will be okay, Mr. Dawson nods approvingly. And when Mr. Dawson notices him trembling after the last-ditch Stuka attack, he helps him up and gives him a comforting pat on the shoulder. I don’t know, it’s just refreshing and comforting to see a traumatized character portrayed with such humanity and treated with such compassion.

This film is about a catastrophic defeat and people trapped in this hell when attempt after attempt to escape ends in disaster, but there is kindness to be found even in these horrible circumstances. And I just find that moving. And that’s why, despite the endless anxiety this film gives me, I consider it a comfort movie. I will never tire of it.

#Dunkirk #Dunkirk 2017 #.txt #*#dunkirkposting

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introloves · 4 years

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oooo i heard u wanted some requests!! could u write some hcs of bokuto, akaashi and kuroo (or anyone u want!!) and signs they are about to come? i have no clue if this made sense looool but i love ur writing <33333

oo!! let’s see !!

— bokuto: he’s throbbing, you can see and feel his dick twitch with every pass of your hand over his dick. his hand is placed on your head, guiding you to just put the head of his dick in your mouth- he’s so close.

“cmon, i’m close.” he grunts at your teasing, catches your smile at being caught.

“be good and make me cum.” his voice is still light and kind, but his fingers make sure to tangle into your hair. it’s a warning.

once he feels your tongue sweep over his head, he knows he’s gone.

you can feel his dick grow under your hand, feel every vein decorating that heavy member pulse with his oncoming orgasm.

you wanna taste him, wanna have him paint the inside of your mouth with him, and you know how to get him there.

keeping your mouth on his tip, you bring another hand up to him, using both hands to pump him with a pace that’s hard and fast. just how he likes it, the same force he’d use when he’s fucking your hole.

his eyes open wide, looking down at you attend to his dick like this, it makes him look so big against your tiny hands.

once again you feel the steady rhythmic pulsing, you can see his thighs tense, his balls contracting close to his body to finally cum where you want him.

he swells up big, cock going straight before pumping everything he has into your cute mouth.

he can’t think straight as he sees you struggle to swallow it all down, makes him twitch even more.

he doesn’t think he can fall more in love, the sight already having him think about the ways he can repay you.

he thinks that you’re deserving of being folded down and milked for every drop of cum in you.

— akaashi: he’s loud, usually he’s so composed pretty eyes watching you diligently.

akaashi is a very pretty man, but he looks like an angel right now. face painted in a dusty pink, mouth hung open to leave broken, sonorous moans and grunts of you name.

he wants to write essays, poems of the shape of your body and feel of your walls hugging him so tight.

“if only you could see what i’m seeing.” akaashi groans, the hand hooked under your knee to prop your leg up squeezing to get your attention- to get you to look at him.

“wanna see your face.” is what he responds when you squeak at the grip he has on you.

it makes you prickle with an uncomfortable heat, his voice feels like punches to your already fluttering hole.

“you squeeze me so good.” he states, shaking with the orgasm he can practically taste.

you’re already well taken care of, the stings of cum leaving his and your thighs is testament to that, but he wants one more. wants you to cum with him.

he lets his weight come down, using the bed for leverage while he grinds down on you. he’s barely moving, but the pressure of him against you is enough.

“one more, give me one more baby.” he pleads, voice tickling your ear.

and you do, holding on till you feel his hot cum inside you.

he thinks he should be embarrassed at the noise that leaves him, but with the way your hand comes up to grip his hair, your own voice pleading for him to never be quiet- the thought goes just as quickly.

— kuroo: he’s grabby. using those pretty, rough, calloused hands to take handfuls of your ass while you’re bouncing on his dick. makes you go crazy with how hard he grips you, you can hear the wetness of yourself amplifying each slap of your thighs down on his lap.

“fuck, gunna make me cum.” he hisses, throwing his head back, you wanna bite his long neck, dot it with your teeth marks but you’re close too. all of your concentration goes in keeping that pace that has you shake.

his hips help you out, lifting you off him before letting gravity bounce you down. those hands that have a hard grip on the fat, using the jiggle of gravity against your body also help you move. he’s practically using your body to cum, well earned muscles holding you up.

the closer he gets, the more an overbearing need to have you close eats at him.

you let his hands leave your ass, coming up to rest against you back as he pushes you against his body. you can’t move like this, but he does. hold you tight and close while pistoning his hips up, sliding in and out of you with ease.

he’s so long the head of his dick kisses that ungiving wall inside, but you revel in the pain.

“‘m cumin’.” he bites, nipping your shoulder. you can feel his voice thrum against you.

“cum with me. cum with me.” he chants, drilling the words into you with even harder thrusts.

you don’t have any other option but to be good and listen.

your own clenching walls have him gone too, he does everything he can to keep you close to him. sweat building up between your bodies, he can feel every wave of pleasure leave you, feels your legs shake and chest expand with every intake of air.

he can smell your hair, the sweat building up at your neck. he wants to drink it all in, mould himself to you.

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cakesunflower · 3 years

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a court of golden shadows: elain archeron and azriel endgame

so this is like an 11 page paper i wrote on why i think Elain Archeron and Azriel from Sarah J. Maas’s A Court of Thorns and Roses are endgame. i made a joke on twitter that i’d write a proper MLA format styled paper on them because i love them so much and a bunch of my moots convinced me to do it so here i am.

this is for the Elriel lovers like myself. if you read it, which you don’t have to, please refrain from commenting anything negative. everyone is entitled to their own opinions, and this whole essay is just my opinion on it. so if you read, i hope you enjoy!!

keep in mind, it’s LONG.

A Court of Golden Shadows: Elain Archeron and Azriel Endgame

Sarah J. Maas’s fantasy series A Court of Thorns and Roses displays epic, world-shattering love stories among the thrilling action and fantastical elements present throughout the novels, as seen in the romance between Feyre Archeron and Rhysand and, most recently, Nesta Archeron and Cassian. Two sisters have already accepted and embraced the (so-called) rare mating bond with their respective counterparts, yet the question remains on what is to happen with the middle sister, Elain Archeron, who apparently has a mating bond of her own with Lucien Vanserra, but has not, for two books and a novella, made any indication of accepting it. However, Elain, in her quiet, gentle way, has shown to be more attentive towards the Night Court’s resident Shadowsinger and Spymaster, Azriel. Who, in turn, has notably started to move on from a five-century long love harbored for another female and gravitating towards the last remaining Archeron sister.

It can be said that the concept of the three Archeron sisters all ending up with the three Illyrian males is a cliché, but if done right, they can capture the reader in their grasp—one that no one would want to get out of. Taking a look at the novels, particularly starting from the second book, A Court of Mist and Fury, since this is where Azriel’s character is introduced, it is difficult to ignore the fact that Maas has been laying the groundwork for Elain and Azriel—or Elriel, as I will refer to them throughout this paper—to be a couple from the moment they met, whether these hints are subtle or obvious. In chapter 24 of ACOMAF where Feyre, the Illyrian faes, and her sisters have dinner together, we see tentative interactions between Elain and Azriel, despite the two of them having just met and Elain, as a mortal who grew up with stories of the terrors of faeries, seems to look towards the spymaster more. The first glimpse of their interaction, no matter how small, is shown on pages 253-254 when “a faint smile bloomed upon Azriel’s mouth as he noticed Elain’s fingers white-knuckled on that fork”. Though this moment can be overlooked, it is only the first of many oncoming moments of Azriel noticing Elain and her actions, a subtle hint of the spymaster’s attention towards Elain. The focus of attention is returned when Elain then turns to Azriel a few pages later, wanting to know more about their ability to fly, even so far as going to say “That’s very beautiful” when Azriel describes Illyrians as being “born hearing the song of the wind” (256-257). Additionally, there are two moments in this particular chapter where Elain, in some semblance, looks towards Azriel as a way of relaxing herself. The first is noted when Azriel’s attention is said to be on Elain, and he offers her a “polite, bland smile”, and Feyre notices how Elain’s “shoulders loosened a bit” in response to it (256). Rather than looking towards Feyre for indicators during an unexpected dinner with faeries, Elain seems to be more drawn to looking at Azriel, which is shown once again in the following passage: “Rhys chuckled, Cassian’s wrath slipping enough that he grinned, and Elain, noticing Azriel’s ease as proof that things weren’t indeed about to go badly, offered one of her own as well” (258). Elain tends to check everyone’s reactions to the circumstances to determine the levels of tension in the atmosphere, but she truly seems to be put at ease when she notices Azriel’s own relaxed state, once again indicating the attention she pays to him from the moment they met.

The first three books in Maas’s series are told through Feyre’s perspective, so it can be said that our perception of and desire for Elain and Azriel getting together is skewed because of the point of view we are given. I, however, consider this to be a moot point because Feyre’s character is the type to notice everything around her. She comes to grow close to both Azriel and Cassian, and with Elain being her sister, the reader can depend on Feyre as being as much of a reliable narrator to tell us exactly what she sees and how she sees it. With this in mind, some of the examples given will be from Feyre’s own musings, but it is important to note that she, more than once, groups Elain and Azriel together. This is shown when, in chapter 49, Feyre is distracting Rhysand as she tries to take care of his wounds and muses about her sisters visiting Velaris. There, Feyre mentions to Rhysand, “I think Elain—Elain would like it, too. Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet”, before proceeding to think to herself—and the reader, “I smiled at the thought—at how handsome they would be together” (487). Of course, this observation is followed by the acknowledgement of Azriel quietly loving Mor, as he has for centuries, yet what we don’t know, during this, that this wouldn’t remain an issue for long.

Moving on to focus on the third installment of the series, A Court of Wings and Ruin, there is a solemnity surrounding Elain, who, at the end of the second novel, was forcefully turned into fae against her will. After the transformation, Elain has become a shell of who she used to be, trapped in a state of deep mourning of the humanity she lost, of the love of her fiancé she inevitably lost, too. She doesn’t eat nor does she speak to anyone, an empty yet no less beautiful version of herself as her Cauldron given powers, unbeknownst to everyone else, manifest. But even in her state, in her indifference towards her mate Lucien and yearning for her human fiancé Graysen, Elain managed to acknowledge Azriel. He is gentle with her, much like everyone else, as he carries her into the townhouse, smiles, inquires if she’d like for him to show her the garden. And although he stands tall, intimidating in his fighting leathers and large wings, Elain does not recoil from him in fear or shyness. Instead, she takes the arm he offers her and, although it is unsure if she is looking at his Siphon or his scarred hands, she still utters “Beautiful” in response to him (254). Even when life has unexpectedly turned bleak for Elain, even when the world loses its color in the aftermath of the trauma she suffered, in that moment, there was a glimpse of who she used to be as she found beauty in nothing but Azriel.

This same chapter is followed by an insightful conversation between Feyre and Rhysand, triggered by Feyre watching her sister and Azriel. Feyre notes how at odds Azriel looks sitting in the garden next to Elain in his armor, yet she still questions, “Why not make them mates?” (257). This spurs a significant conversation between the High Lord and High Lady, where readers are given some more history on mating bonds and introduced to the prevailing concept of rejected bonds. Rhys provides examples of ill-chosen bonds, such as his parents, who were mates yet their relationship was not ideal in the least. Here, we are told that sometimes fate, the Mother, whatever chooses two mates can be wrong in its pairings, and it is rare for the bond to bring together “true, paired souls” (258) like Feyre and Rhysand. It has been established that the female can reject the bond, and while the male may feel the tug of it, it’s their burden to push through it. Maas spends an entire page or so talking about the concept of ill-chosen or rejected bonds, so it would be naive to look over these details if they weren’t placed in the storyline for a reason. Elain and Lucien may be mates, and Azriel (at least currently within the book) may be in love with Mor, but the idea of free will is not something to be so easily dismissed. Elain already had the choice of her humanity, her mortality, ripped away from her—it’s doubtful she would let this pattern continue.

In chapter 24 of A Court of Wings and Ruin, when Elain is having her first conversation with Lucien, she states, “No one ever looked—not really” (252), and although here she is referencing Graysen, this statement comes around a few chapters later. In chapter 27, Elain walks in on a conversation amongst the Inner Circle, and Azriel was the first to step forward as he noticed something amiss. His observations and questions when he says to her, “[But] you heard something else” and “What did you see” indicate that he, unlike Feyre and Nesta, believes that Elain’s riddled musings have a deeper meaning and need to be heard. The scene ends with Feyre looking to Azriel, noticing that his “hazel eyes churned as he studied my sister, her too-thin body. And without a word, he winnowed away” (287). Azriel didn’t brush off what Elain said, because while her sisters thought Elain had gone mad, Azriel listened to her—he looked. He looked past her “too-thin body” and read between the lines of what she said, and knew there was more than what meets the eye. He looked, which was exactly what Elain had wanted.

This is repeated in chapter 32, when Elain brings up another queen and no one is quite sure what she’s talking about, except for Azriel, who steps forward and gently prods Elain to elaborate. Even Lucien watches Elain warily, questioning if they need to help her, yet Azriel is firm in his assessment that Elain doesn’t need help, that they need to be the ones who need to listen, before ultimately determining that she does, in fact, have powers and is established to be a seer. So while Lucien “stared and stared at [Elain], as if he’d never seen her before”, it was Azriel who actually looked at her and saw what no one else was seeing, whose acknowledgment of her gift and the attention he brought to it from everyone else “freed her from whatever murky realm she’d been in” (336).

The idea of Azriel truly looking at Elain transitions into him looking for her, too. But first, another example of the former is seen in chapter 63, when Feyre, Nesta, and Amren hear the call of the cauldron in the middle of the night. They wonder about it, question why they three heard it because they were Made, not noticing that another who was Made was missing from their group. That is, until, Azriel asks, “What about Elain?” (560), and he is moving alongside the sisters to inspect Elain’s tent, only to find her missing. Azriel notices Elain—whether she is present or not. And so the concept of Azriel looking for Elain is introduced when they are discussing Elain’s rescue from Hybern in the following scene:

“From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.”

Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows.

Nesta said, “Then you will die.”

Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”” (563).

There was no hesitation on Azriel’s part in being the one to get Elain back, but there was obvious rage, as noted, in his gaze at the very idea of Elain having been kidnapped. A silent, lethal aura surrounds the shadowsinger that can be so clearly picked out within that scene, showcasing Azriel’s unwavering determination in returning Elain, even if it meant slipping into the heart of enemy camps—especially if it meant that. And throughout the dangers and urgency of this particular mission, when they do reach Elain, Azriel takes a moment to be tender towards her as he “gently removed the gag from her mouth” (573) and asks if she’s hurt. Elain, in turn, is shown to be “devouring the sight of him, as if not quite believing it” before she says “You came for me” (573). Elain looks at Azriel in wonder and disbelief, and this reaction hints towards how she feels drawn towards him. In their very first meeting during the dinner in the Archeron house, Elain looks to Azriel for reassurance, for judgement of the situation, and in the event of her rescue, she finds that same kind of comfort on a far more intense level. Because here, he truly is her rescuer, appearing in front of her to save her from the dangerous hands of their enemies and bring her to safety. And Azriel, in this sense, is devoted to her, holding up his fierce promising of getting her back. Even when he was injured, Azriel held onto Elain, refusing to let her go even while getting shot at and chased, and when they landed in their own camps, the first thing he claimed was for someone to get the chains off of her, rather than even mentioning his own injuries. This just reminds us of ACOMAF when Elain was being dragged to the cauldron and Azriel wasn’t even conscious to witness it—there is no doubt that if he was awake—and uninjured—he would’ve done all he could to save her. Maas robbed us of that type of scene.

Furthermore, evolving from the concept of Azriel rescuing Elain, we get another significant scene between the two of them that displays the kind of trust these two characters smoothly and effortlessly developed. On top of Elain accepting Azriel’s offers of taking her to the garden, a silent indicator that his company was one she enjoyed, Azriel shows a great act of trust to Elain as well when, in chapter 69, he offered her the use of his beloved knife, Truth-Teller. This blade is Azriel’s most prized possession, and to offer it to Elain to bring her the same kind of comfort and safety that we have seen she finds in Azriel himself portrays the trust he has in her—and his desire to protect her. This is emphasized when Rhys tells Feyre, “Never. . . I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife” (610). Even Cassian was stunned that Azriel would let someone else use Truth-Teller, which is significant to note given that he has not let even Cassian nor Rhys—his brothers he has known for centuries—even touch it. And Elain, who had refused to take the knife Cassian had offered her, ends up accepting Truth-Teller—because it’s Azriel’s, and because through the short time she’s known him, he is someone she has poured her trust into and understands he wouldn’t lead her astray. And he didn’t, for it was Elain who “stepped out of a shadow” (653) and used that very same blade to kill the King of Hybern. A temporary gift, given from Azriel, that she used to put an end to one of the greatest threats to both the human and faerie realms.

In the post-war novella A Court of Frost and Starlight, Maas furthers the Elriel endgame agenda by continuing both subtle and blatant hints in their favor—and not just through actual interactions between the two. The concept of Azriel avoiding Lucien because of his mating bond with Elain is important to remember, for it will come back around later. But in this novella, we see it when Rhysand asks Azriel if he keeps an eye on Lucien, given that he is the spymaster. Azriel, in turn, informs him that he does not track his movements, because “He is Elain’s mate” and “It would be an invasion of her privacy to track him”, which Rhysand, since this is shown from his perspective, notes is because Azriel does not want to be aware of if and when Lucien seeks out Elain, and what they do together—if they do anything at all, given Elain’s tendencies to utterly ignore Lucien (70). Rhysand questions Azriel’s motives on this, but doesn’t get a response, but there is an understanding of Azriel’s intentions behind it. Not only does he want to remain ignorant of the forced bond between Elain and Lucien, but a big motivator for him is also Elain’s privacy, which he doesn’t want to intrude on—ironic, given that he is a spy, and it’s his job to know of others’ movements and thoughts.

Another example of Azriel very subtly showing his blossoming feelings towards Elain is when he unforgivingly states that if Lucien were to kill Elain’s ex-fiancé, then “good riddance” (71). He was well aware of how Graysen treated Elain after finding out she was fae, is the one who sits with her in the gardens because he is a comforting presence for her in the face of mourning, so he understands her. This idea is repeated in Azriel’s bonus chapter in A Court of Silver Flames, when Rhysand catches Azriel almost about to kiss Elain—that is definitely to be unpacked later—and warns him that Lucien has the right to invoke a Blood Duel to defend the mating bond, and Azriel does not hesitate, is confident, when he retorts that he would easily defeat Lucien, would have no problem in pulling Elain out of a bond she doesn’t even want.

The novella also includes some more obvious, sweet moments between Elain and Azriel, ones that show Elain’s own growing interest and feelings towards Azriel. Like in chapter 12, when Feyre notes that when Azriel enters the room, she feels Elain freeze at the sight of him, and then Elain proceeds to be almost in a trance when Azriel, after she greets him, moves towards her and takes the heavy dish of potatoes from her hands and says he’ll take care of it for her (105). This scene then continues when Elain hurries off to make herself more presentable, and rather than letting others dive into the food, Azriel stops Cassian from putting food on his plate and all but commands him to “wait until everyone is seated before eating” (106). Rhysand informs Feyre that this sudden reaction from Azriel stemmed from the treatment his mother received as a near servant, but it can also be tied to how Azriel keeps aware of Elain and the recurring theme of looking after her in any way. He notices her, just as she notices him, a subtle way of this being present in Elain’s solstice gift to Azriel. She doesn’t get a gift for Lucien, her mate, but does get one for Azriel, one that makes him laugh in a way that, Feyre notes, she’s never heard before. A genuine sort of joy breaking the cold, indifferent mask of the shadowsinger as he accepts and cherishes the gift Elain gave him—the extent of which we see in his bonus chapter, where it is revealed that he looks at the small vial every night before going to sleep, a not-so-subtle showing that Elain is the last thought on his mind before he descends into slumber.

This notion of the two of them looking after one another in their own ways is again repeated in A Court of Silver Flames in the following passage on page 221:

Azriel smirked. “You and Nesta are wanted down there.”

“Because of the shit with Elain?”

Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?”

Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened.

Throughout the friendship they have formed, Azriel becomes a kind of protector of Elain’s, deriving from her being a part of their Inner Circle as well as the notion of Azriel’s own personal feelings for her. He is so obviously shown as going on the defense at the news of Elain getting into any kind of fight, of Elain potentially being hurt. It’s repeated on page 233 when Elain and Nesta are arguing, and after Nesta utters a nasty comment that lands on Elain like a blow, there is an acknowledgement of the “shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike”. The shadows, of course, are Azriel’s, ready to jump between the sisters and defend Elain from Nesta’s verbal attack, to once again be her protector.

Of course, we can’t forget that Elain has a mate in Lucien, and how it seems to offer the enticing forbidden love trope between her and Azriel. We see a hint of it in A Court of Wings and Ruin, when in chapter 24, Lucien can scent where Elain had gone off to and who she’d gone with, in this case having it be Azriel, and he’d nearly snarled until Rhysand assured him that Azriel wasn’t the “ravishing type” (254)—although I think we can all agree that he most likely is, but wouldn’t even dream of it in terms of the state Elain was in at the time. Maybe it is the mating bond or maybe it’s both Elain and Azriel’s quiet personalities—or perhaps a combination of the two—but the shyness that has them looking at each other and then looking away continues. On page 467 of A Court of Silver Flames, Cassian notes how Elain nods shyly towards Azriel, who in turn offers her a small smile that she quickly looked away from, prompting Cassian to be puzzled as he wondered, “Lucien was certainly not here to snarl at any male who looked at her for too long”. Elain doesn’t look away from Azriel because of the bond, but perhaps because she is well aware of her feelings for him and, for the moment, is too shy for them to be known, especially by Azriel.

The mating bond between Elain and Lucien does serve as a barrier between her and Azriel, though. This is particularly present during the Winter Solstice, when a layer of Azriel’s character specifically has been peeled back to show his feelings for Elain. Like on page 597, when Elain is laughing at Nesta, the older Archeron sister notes that “Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it”. And if that wasn’t enough, Nesta watches as Azriel’s “gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting”. This is perhaps the most prominent moment of both of their feelings being reciprocated by the other, because Nesta notices the way they look at one another, as if they both see past the person they put in front of everyone else and truly see the other. And even Nesta understands that there is something deeper between the two, even if they themselves haven’t figured it out yet, when she approaches Azriel where he stands by the doorway and, when asked why he doesn’t sit, responds with a “pretty lie” of his shadows not liking the fire. But Nesta looks to where Elain is the one sitting by the fire, and why Azriel chooses to stand as far as he can, because it is “his secret to tell. Never hers” (600). Just like that, Nesta is aware of Azriel’s feelings for her sister and, perhaps, her subtle way of comforting him was her showing her approval.

We get a deeper insight of this scene in Azriel’s bonus chapter—an entire chapter that allows readers to see exactly how he feels about Elain, and that she returns those feelings, too. It is confirmed that Azriel stands by the doorway, away from Elain, because Lucien is in the same room, and the sight and scent of their mating bond is one that Azriel cannot stand. Because the female he feels deeply for, according to fate, “belongs” to another male and he needs to put distance between himself and the two of them when they’re in the same room. Yet, the mating bond doesn’t prevent Azriel from thinking of Elain, from fantasizing about her every night. He goes from being shown as relieved when Rhys tells him he doesn’t have to buy the sisters presents for the Winter Solstice in A Court of Frost and Starlight, to actively buying her a beautiful flower necklace that she would no doubt love. Their secret exchanging of gifts leads to an epic, steamy, full-of-yearning almost first kiss that shows so clearly that Azriel’s feelings for Elain aren’t unrequited, that she, just like him, is desperate to give into what’s been brewing between them for so long. Yet it’s all cut short when Rhys interrupts Azriel, reminding him of a mating bond that Azriel’s painfully aware of—and confidently willing to pull Elain away from if Lucien decides to invoke the Blood Duel. Azriel’s questioning of the cauldron, wondering why it picked three sisters and had two of them end up with his brothers while the last remaining one was mated to another, is not him declaring that he has a right to Elain. This is him questioning the powers and forces that no one truly understands, this is him questioning from a place of heartbreak, wondering why, yet again, he was the one left behind. It happened when his father imprisoned him, forcing Azriel to delay in his training as an Illyrian, it happened when the female he spent centuries loving never once returned the same kind of love, and now it’s happening again. Azriel does not believe he deserves Elain—it goes against his character, because he is self-deprecating, does not think he truly deserves anything good and worthy. He is simply questioning why his choice doesn’t ever seem to matter, and why Elain is yet again left having her decisions being taken away from her.

Because the matter of choice is a prevalent, significant theme for the two of them. For Elain, she was never allowed to truly make a choice in her life. Her mother’s death, her family falling into poverty, turning into High Fae, losing Graysen, the mating bond, her father’s death—these were all huge, significant life changing moments that she had no say in and was forced to endure, completely upending who she was and how she lived. But there is one choice Elain can make, and that is to reject the mating bond with Lucien. There are so many examples throughout the books where Elain turns away from Lucien; she doesn’t express any interest in him—it’s like he doesn’t even exist to her. There is utter indifference on her end, despite any effort made by Lucien, and that in itself is Elain choosing to all but formally reject the bond, however that may come about. There is a moment in A Court of Wings and Ruin in chapter 54 when Elain, while pleading with Graysen, claims, “I belong to no one. My heart belongs to you” (498). Of course, Azriel has nothing to do with what Elain was saying at the time, but her declaration of this speaks to her character and how dearly she holds onto the idea of being with someone of her own choosing, with someone she loves. This can further be developed into the idea that although fate, the cauldron, the Mother may have chosen Lucien for Elain—a pairing that can, ultimately, be ill-chosen—Elain would not give it the time of day unless it’s what her heart wants. And from what we have seen so far, her heart wants Azriel. She chooses Azriel over Lucien, and that holds significant weight to her and, I imagine eventually, to Azriel as well.

Azriel, who has not been other people’s choice. Azriel, who was imprisoned by his own father, who was rejected by the Illyrians. Azriel, who has spent five centuries loving Mor, who will never love him the way he did her. And it’s saying something, isn’t it, that he has finally stopped yearning for her, and that it was Elain who he is enraptured by? Even Cassian noted that the way Azriel used to look at Mor have become few and far in between, telling the audience that the spymaster has finally begun to move on, or already has, from Mor. And Elain wanting to kiss Azriel confirms to him, in particular, that he is her choice as well. And she is his, as further confirmed when Azriel tells Rhys he has no problem engaging in the Blood Duel with Lucien if it means freeing Elain from a bond she doesn’t want, and allowing them both to dive into the choices they clearly want to make.

Truthfully, there are many examples throughout the books where I can talk about Elain rejecting Lucien. She cringed away from the very first time he touches her in ACOMAF—though, granted, it happens right after she comes out of the cauldron. She is unsettled when Lucien tugs on their bond, saying that it felt as though he pulled on a thread connecting to a rib, which sounds painful and nothing like the comforting bond readers have seen between Feyre and Rhys. Elain doesn’t buy Lucien any presents for solstice, and the first present he got her, gardening gloves to prevent her hands from tearing, are ones she doesn’t use. Because she would much rather feel her hands get torn up while she’s working in her garden, uncaring if they scar, which in turn is a reminder of Azriel’s scarred hands and how she found them beautiful. And for those who wonder about Azriel giving the necklace he got for Elain to Gwyn, it is important to note that he tells Clotho to give it to any priestess who would want it, and merely mentions Gwyn by name because he trained her, because he was the one who rescued her after an attack, and she is the one he knows most familiarly by name because of it. At the end of it, Azriel only wanted the necklace gone because he didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to remember that the female he wants, wants him back just as much, but he was all but forbidden to pursue her. Once again, a choice that was taken away from him, and giving the necklace away is far easier than keeping it and remembering how he couldn’t be with Elain. At least for now.

Throughout the novels, there are many symbols that hint towards Elain and Azriel being together, but that is a paper for another day. This one’s goal was to simply point out the many physical and emotional indicators of the way the two of them are drawn to one another, despite the obstacles that are thrown their way—the biggest one being the mating bond no one asked for. There is comfort in the relationship they have, an ease you wouldn’t expect someone with Elain’s light to find in Azriel’s darkness. He offers her comfort in shy smiles and soft looks, and Elain does the same for him, which we see in the act of his shadows disappearing around her. These very shadows provided him comfort when he needed them, were his friends in his prison, and them leaving him when Elain is around is a sign of the contentment Azriel feels, because he doesn’t have to protect himself in her presence. Azriel loved Mor, and it has been noted that he lights up when she is around, and Elain is the only other person he reacts similarly to—because Elain is who he wants now that he has moved on from Mor. It’s important, isn’t it, that Elain is who pulls Azriel away from the centuries-long love he’d been lost in? That she is who he looks for, thinks about, wonders after?

Elain has found comfort in Azriel’s darkness, and he has found peace in her light, and so how could they not defy what’s been expected of them and rewrite fate to fit the choices they make themselves?

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teacupcollector · 3 years

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The Undead Kind of Love: Part 1

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: When Y/N’s art project lands her in Romania she is met with very peculiar circumstances. Such as a weird old man speaking mythical nonsense, murders of both people and animals, an oncoming threat to her life, as well as her mysterious yet very hot next door neighbor with a weird obsession with beetroot juice.

You came to the Romanian capital for your college class. Your major was in Art History and you found that throughout your class you enjoyed different types of Folk Art and you enjoyed Romanian Folk Art the most. So you decided to sign a slip to study abroad to a country of your choosing and so you chose Romania. You were tasked to study the art and make your own as well as write an essay on the culture you encountered on your trip. So here you are, in Bucharest sitting at a small park bench, food in hand which had a beautiful view of ‘The Arch of Triumph’ You had your small notepad that you use to take notes on what you see for your essay but as of right now you are doodling with the infamous arch way as the sole subject. As you finished your food you begin to pack up and put your pencil and notebook away then stand up. Your next stop was the “Dimitrie Gusti National Village Museum” It is about a seven minute walk from where you are now so you begin your journey.

With your backpack over your shoulder you begin your seven minute trek when something caught your ear. It was coming from ahead of you as you make your way to the entrance of the museum. “Pleacă de aici (Go away!)” A man cried. He seemed out of his mind! He was yelling and touching patrons in an effort to diverge them away from somewhere. “trebuie să pleci acum (You must leave now!)” You weren’t sure of what to do so you just stood there staring. That was your first mistake. He immediately made eye contact with you and charged in your direction. He was spitting nonsense and you couldn’t understand what he was saying. “Părăsi! Părăsi! (Leave! Leave!)” You understand that word so as you go through your imaginary index cards you have for the Romanian language you ask “De ce? (Why?)” The man seemed confused at what you were asking. “Mort! (Dead!)” You look at him even more confused and he sighs angrily “Vampire! Here Vampire!” You look shocked. You knew this man was crazy but not this crazy! He begins to grab on to your arm in a firm grip when he is suddenly ripped off of you. “Destul! (Enough!)” You see a pair of what looked like officers pulling the man away from you. “Atenție! ( Be careful!)” The man cries. “nu ieși noaptea! (Don’t go out at night!)” The police officers are taking him away in the direction of the main road. “Morții merg pe timp de noapte (The dead walk at night!) That was the last words you heard until he was out of ear shot. A wave of strangeness incased your entire body. You felt uncomfortable so you decided to leave. ‘I’ll come here some other time...’ You think to yourself as you find yourself walking back toward the main road and away from the museum and the woods that surrounded it.

Your walk home was unnerving. You wouldn’t say you were a paranoid person or even a believer in the paranormal but the man did strike a fear in you. You use to love vampires when you were a kid. You dressed up as one for three years straight for Halloween. You went through that weird Twilight phase of putting dots of sharpie on your neck and drinking red Kool-Aid in middle school. To say you weren’t a vampire fan would be a lie but that man seemed to know more. I mean you are in Romania so it is to be expected? You sigh as you get closer and closer to your apartment complex. Your backpack seems to be getting heavier with each step you took up the stairs. You enter an outdoor hallway that is connected to the stairs you just went up and look back to the world behind you. As the chill of the Autumn air sets in and you shiver. You turn to your door and take out your keys that were provided for you by the school.

As you jiggle the lock you hear a door open next to you. You look to your left and see a man step out. He is wearing a brownish leather jacket and a red shirt underneath. He has a cap on top of his head as his umber brown hair surrounds his face. His side profile was a chefs kiss. He had a well defined jawline accompanied with just the right amount of facial hair from what you could see his face stood stern and unmoving until they landed on you. He had equally stern baby blue eyes as he stared into you (E/C) ones. His eyes seem to have a storm behind them. He had an intimidating look to him and the air around him was intense. You felt like you couldn’t breath. His eyes were like a black hole and they were sucking you in but you weren’t sure if you wanted to escape. That brief moment felt like a life time as you are swallowed by those broken eyes. He just looks at you and walks away.

When you got inside you decided to do a little research. Your roommate has yet to return so you decided to use their computer. You go to the local online news paper and begin to look at some articles. You go to the settings in the corner of the screen and hit the translate button. As the site reloads you begin to read. Multiple headlines flash across the screen as you scroll until a specific one catches your eye. “Local Farmer Finds Cattle Slaughtered” You scroll down to see pictures of said cattle. They are strangely skinny and their eyes are sunken in, there is a chunk of meat missing on a few parts of its body -mainly around the neck area- Scrolling down more you see the museum you were suppose to go to. There was a picture of the man you encountered holding onto somebody. Looking closely you can see that it is you! You didn’t realize that you were being photographed. Luckily it was of the back of your head so no one saw your face, but it would be a cool story to tell to your friend later. As you continue to stare at the man you decide to do even more digging. You decide to look up vampires and the influence they have in this culture. What you found was interesting but you weren’t sure if it was accurate. Then again how can something mythical be accurate? You decided to write down the name of a library that is close to your apartment complex and head there tomorrow. You decide to exit and shut off the computer putting it back on the coffee table where it belongs. You get up and decide to see what you have in the fridge. Turns out there was a whole lot of nothing. ‘I really need to go to the market tomorrow...’ You think to yourself as you reach for your phone looking at different take out places. You choose the type of food you wish to eat and made sure to write down the pronunciation of each items on the menu so you can be sure to say it correctly to the best of your abilities. By the time you are done ordering your roommate walks in and gives you a small wave. You wave back to them before continuing to wait for your food. You look out the sliding door of your balcony to see the sky is pitch black. You feel a shiver go up your spine and make your way to the sliding door and shutting the blinds. You take a few steps back and calm your breathing. You don’t know why you feel so worked up over nothing but you guess that your paranoia is getting the best of you. You walk to your roommates room and knock on the door. You hear a quiet ‘come in’ so you open the door. “Hey I just wanted to let you know that I got us some food and it will be here soon.” They smile and nod and you exit the room shutting it behind you. You don’t know how long it has been but you started dozing off on the couch when you heard a knock on the door. You quickly get your wallet and approach the door opening it. You expected your food to be here. What you didn’t expect is the person holding your food in their hands. “Oh it’s you!” You exclaim making the man you saw earlier today flinch. You blush red in embarrassment. “Sorry Uh-” You begin to try and speak some Romanian but the man cuts you off. “Your food got delivered to my place...” You look even more shocked. “Oh right. I’m so sorry!” You pop your head around the corner of the door way looking for the delivery person. “Where did they go?” You ask looking up at him. “They left...” He murmurs. “They wouldn’t have left without payment... Did you pay for my food?” You ask suddenly feeling guilty. He nods. “Why don’t you come i-” “No it’s fine.” He says holding out the bag of food to you. You look between him and the food. As you look closely you can see his hand. His hands look tough, fingernails are well kept with veins protruding and leading up his arm, but the thing that caught your eye the most was how his fingertips and some of his hand was stained red. “Is that your blood!? Are you okay? Did you hurt you hand?” You ask taking the food in which he takes his hand and wipes it on his jeans even though there is no liquid on it. What ever it was you hoped it wasn’t blood because it must have been there for a while to have stained it. “No I didn’t hurt my hand. I spilled some beet root juice.” He says quietly. “Oh... Okay...” You say slightly weirded out. “Well good night.” He says before walking away. You are stood there for a moment before you call out “Good night! How do I-” You hear the sound of his apartment door slamming shut. You were debating on going over there to say something but your thoughts were interrupted by your roommate calling out to you. “Hey what are you doing with the door wide open? Is the food here?” She asks and you sigh “Yeah I’m coming in.” You say as you step back into the apartment and shut the door. A/N: I used Google Translate for the Romanian So I’m sorry if it is off. A/N: This story is for a writing challenge hosted by @lokithealligator A/N: The bolded words is number 46 in a prompt list made by @pitaparka -Please check both of them out they are amazing!

#eventual fluff #eventual angst #eventual bucky x reader #vampire bucky barnes #vampire bucky x reader #college reader #strange bucky #strangers to lovers #slow burn #writing challenge #halloween #halloween writing challenge

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fallen-gravity · 3 years

Text

Intellectual Adequacy

Stan hates to start any unnecessary conflict, especially when there’s a very real chance that Ford will be moving to California next year, but he knows deep down that if they don’t talk about this now then he’ll never have the courage to bring it up again.

“Wait,” Stan shouts to Ford, and he stops dead in his tracks.

Notes: In which one little plot bunny that was preventing me from getting any work done becomes its own rabbit hole.

I genuinely cannot believe that in the six-seven years I've been in this fandom, I've never tried my hand at the fix-it-fic where Stan and Ford just talk it out as teenagers, just like they should've in canon. I've seen a lot of different approaches, but I feel like I've yet to see one that tackles it from the perspective of Stan's own battle with his self-worth, rather than the actions he or Ford have already taken.

AO3

Stan hates the principal’s office more than anywhere else in the world.

He swears, he’s called down every other week for something that’s not even his fault. He punched Crampelter in the nose for harassing some poor freshman? Principal’s office. He talks back to a teacher calling his classmate stupid for forgetting an “obvious” geometry equation? Principal’s office. He accidentally drops his pencil during an exam and bends over to pick it up? He must be cheating. Principal’s office.

If you asked him, the whole idea of sending kids to the principal’s office is pointless to begin with. Oh, you did something bad, and now we’re gonna make the big man in charge tell your mommy and daddy? How old do these people think they are?

Stan wishes he could say that this time is okay because they’re not even talking to him. They’re talking up a storm to Ford in there about another college scholarship and all the reasons why he and he alone would be the perfect candidate for some random school all the way out in California

But it’s not okay, because the longer Stan sits in the dumb waiting room the more he’s starting to feel like chopped liver. They’ve been in there for at least five minutes with no sign of stopping anytime soon, but every time Stan asks the secretary if he can just go back to class already she dismisses him with a wave of her hand and it’ll be your turn soon, sit back down.

He’s thinking of just sneaking out the next time the secretary buries her nose back into her magazine. It’s simple: just wait for her to pull it out from her desk, sneak by as quick as he can, and slip out the door and back to class before she can even notice he’s gone.

He stands from his chair, pretending to stretch and preparing to execute, but freezes solid when he hears his name being spoken from within the principal’s office.

“…What about our little free spirit Stanley?”

It’s Ma, and whatever it is they’re talking about in there, she isn’t happy about it. Frowning, Stan glances over at the secretary to make sure that she isn’t staring at him, and presses his ear to the office door to listen to their conversation more carefully.

The principal laughs in response. “That clown? At this rate he’ll be lucky if he graduates high school”

Stan’s taken aback by the harsh choice of words, but if he knows Ford, then he won’t just sit there and let the principal talk about him like that. He presses his ear further into the door, waiting for Ford to interrupt the principal’s rambling about how he’s never going to amount to anything with you just don’t know him like I do, or something along those lines, but it never comes.

Not a single interjection that…anything he’s saying is wrong. Not from Pa, not from Ford….and not even from Ma.

They don’t…all really believe that, right?

There has to be something else he’s missing. He bets they’re defending his honor right now, and the reason they’re not making a big scene about it is because they’re in public.

Yeah.

He’s got nothing to worry about.

He peeks into the window, expecting to see Ma glaring daggers into the principal, or Ford silently cursing him out behind his back, but what he’s met with is so much worse. Ma and Pa are exchanging warm smiles, and Ford is frantically shaking hands with the principal, beaming brighter than Stan’s ever seen in his entire life.

Matter of fact, Stan’s not sure he’s ever seen any of them look so happy in his entire life.

He’s worthless, he’ll never go anywhere, and they’re all smiling about it.

Stan’s heart drops to his stomach, and he slides to the floor to join it.

Is this some kind of cruel joke? Were they expecting him to listen in on their conversation? Is this their cruel workaround of telling him he’ll never amount to shit?

He sighs.

He stays there on the cold tiled floor for what feels like hours, contemplating all the times he’s been called dumb, or stupid, or a terrible influence on his brother. All of those times when he could brush it off just because it was coming from someone he didn’t care about.

But worthless?

Behind his back, spoken directly to people he loves, and they won’t even bother to defend him?

That one’s new, and if Stan is going to be completely honest with himself, it’s much harder to brush off his shoulders than all those other times.

Stan doesn’t even notice the office door opening until it nearly smacks him in the back of his head. He quickly jumps to his feet and brushes himself off, pretending the best that he can that he wasn’t just eavesdropping on them for the past ten minutes.

“Stanley!” Ford comes bursting out of the room, his grin threatening to split his face in two. “I just received the most incredible news! The admissions team at West Coast Tech heard about my science fair project, and-”

The beam suddenly slips from his face, replaced with some sort of mix of confusion and concern. “Is...Something wrong?”

Stan rubs at his eyes to make sure he hadn’t started tearing up without realizing it, but no, his eyes are bone dry.

Curse Ford’s stupid ability to read his mind.

Stan covers up the gesture of rubbing at his eyes with a yawn, and stretches his arms in the air. “Nothing except you taking forever in there” he flashes a fake smile easily. “Talk about a blabbermouth, am I right?” Stan gestures towards the principal with his thumb.

Ford laughs, and returns his gaze to the pamphlet in his hands. “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t think he’s so bad”

Stan opens his mouth to quip back, but Ford doesn’t seem to be paying much attention anymore. He’s just staring at that dumb pamphlet, his grin slowly but surely returning to his face again.

Instead, Stan shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs, turning his gaze to the floor. “Yeah, I guess you’re right”

~~~

Stan feels like he’s in a haze for the rest of the day. Even when he tries to focus on class to take his mind off of things and redirect it on anything else, he can’t get his mind to stick. Not even final period gym class can save him, which is really saying something, because the gymnasium is usually the one place where he thrives.

Worthless.

The word won’t stop bouncing around in his skull, hitting him where he’s most sensitive.

It doesn’t help a thing that Ford is dead silent on their walk home from school. He’s usually chatting up a storm to Stan about stuff he doesn’t really understand, and under normal circumstances Stan can’t wait to get home so he can bury his head in his pillow and drown out the sound of Ford’s babbling.

But today he’s not even looking in Stan’s direction, just burying his nose in the West Coast Tech brochure with stars in his eyes, and now Stan wants nothing more than to hear Ford babbling on about his advanced physics classes.

It’s almost insulting.

Stan sighs, and lightly taps on Ford’s shoulder to catch his attention. “Can we talk?”

“Hmm?” Ford blinks, like he needs a few moments to readjust to reality. “Oh! Of course. I was actually planning on asking you the same thing” he places the brochure in his pocket. “Same place as always?”

Stan nods. “Same place as always”.

It’s a quick change of direction and a shortcut to the beach before they find themselves on their old swing set. By now they’re both too heavy to use it properly without a risk of snapping it, but they still find it’s a good place to go when they just need to get away and talk.

“You’re not really thinking of going to that stuffy old school, are you?” Stan asks as soon as Ford sits on the swing beside him. “They’ve gotta be crazy if they think four more years of essays and exams are better lookin’ than tanned babes and gold chains. We’re so close to finishing up the Stan-O-War. Soon as graduation rolls around we’re outta here, just like we always promised”.

Ford chuckles. “That is a nice thought, but…” he pulls the brochure out of his pocket again, and unfolds it for Stan to see. “You have to understand that I can’t just pass up an opportunity like this. Maybe I don’t need a degree from any old state school, but this is West Coast Tech we’re talking about!” he beams, the stars returning to his eyes. “They’ve got cutting edge technology and multidimensional paradigm theory”

Stan rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but admit to himself it’s nice to have his brother back again after an entire day of radio silence.

“Beep boop, giant nerd robot oncoming” Stan punches Ford in the arm.

Ford’s grin only widens. “I figured you’d say that, but it’s too late to change my mind. The head of admissions already flew in this morning, and with my go-ahead they’re going to check out my science fair project later tonight and let me know then and there if they want me at their school”

“Well that seems kind of harsh” Stan quips. “What if they say no?”

Ford shrugs. “Well, then it’s like you said. If they don’t want me, you and I sail off on the Stan-O War and never look back”.

Stan frowns at the strong emphasis on if. He really thinks he’s going to get this, doesn’t he? Stan can’t exactly blame him when he’s been the reigning valedictorian of their class every year since they were kids.

“And if they say yes?”

Ford grins. “Well, then you better visit me on the other side of the country” he punches Stan in the shoulder, and stands to his feet without saying another word.

Stan can’t bring himself to join him. He knows that Ford didn’t mean anything by it, but he can’t help feel wounded by his brother’s implication that while he’s off in California having the time of his life, Stan’s still gonna be stuck living with their parents in New Jersey.

It’s just like their principal said. He’ll never amount to anything anyway, so why wouldn’t he stay in New Jersey? Where else would a worthless piece of shit like him end up?

Stan shifts on his swing and watches as Ford walks away, and he can’t help but wonder just how much of the principal’s tangent that Ford believed.

All of it?

Some of it?

Had Ford even been listening to what he said at all?

As he continues to watch his brother walk away, he can’t help the feeling in his gut that he has to know. He hates to start any unnecessary conflict, especially when there’s a very real chance that Ford will be moving to California next year, but Stan knows deep down that if they don’t talk about this now then he’ll never have the courage to bring it up again.

“Wait,” Stan shouts to Ford, and he stops dead in his tracks.

“Yeah?” Ford says, turning around to face him. Stan suddenly finds himself very aware of his heart loudly pounding against his chest, but he forces himself to squash that down. He’s never felt shy or anxious about asking his brother anything, and he sure as hell isn’t letting that start now.

“You don’t…uh,” he swallows. “You don’t think I’m…worthless, do you?”

Ford looks appalled. He neatly folds the brochure back into his pocket and starts walking- no, jogging, almost sprinting back to the swing set. He pauses in front of the empty swing beside Stan for a moment, like he’s debating whether he should sit down or not, but eventually he shakes his head and sits down anyway.

“What on earth makes you say that?” There’s a hint of anger to his tone, but Stan’s not entirely convinced it’s directed at him. “Why would I think you’re worthless? You’re my twin brother! What could’ve possibly put the idea in your head that I thought that?”

There’s a tiny voice in the back of his head screaming at him to back out, brush it off with a joke and have this conversation later, but there’s an even louder voice shouting at him that it needs to be had now.

Stan sighs. “I…overheard everything in the principal’s office today”

Ford blinks, like he doesn’t understand a word that Stan just said. “About…West Coast Tech? Is this because you’re afraid that I’ll get in, but you know you won’t because you’re not even interested in applying anyway, but you know you’re going to miss me, and you’re not sure if you can handle-”

“About me, Sixer!” Stan shouts, and tries his damn hardest to ignore the waver in his voice. “He practically called me a useless piece of shit directly to Ma and Pa and neither of them said a word about it!” He scrubs his hands down his face because he’s not choking up, not over something so pointless and stupid. “You’re going to travel the world and become the smartest person the scientific community has ever seen, or whatever, but me? Apparently I’ll always be stuck here in New Jersey to pick up after everyone else’s messes, because that’s all I’m ever good for”

Stan buries his face in his hands. He hadn’t meant to blow up, and he certainly hadn’t meant to direct his anger at Ford, but he just feels so hopeless, and he’s the only one around who’s willing to listen. He wouldn’t be surprised if Ford returned with anger of his own, or told him off for being selfish, or even if he just decided to stand up and walk away from him for being such an embarrassment.

The silence that follows is thick and heavy. Stan is so convinced that he must’ve driven Ford away that when he feels a hand on his shoulder he nearly jumps a mile out of his skin. When he finally pulls his hands out of his face to meet Ford’s eyes, his face is flushed pink and he looks…embarrassed.

“Stan, I had no idea, I…” he awkwardly pulls his hand away and grips tightly to the chain of his swing. Stan can see Ford’s face shifting through about a dozen different emotions at once. “I…must’ve been too focused on everything else to realize he was saying those things about you.” He shakes his head. “I know it’s not an excuse, but…” he sighs. “I’m sorry”

There’s another bout of silence between them. Stan’s half-expecting that to be the end of it, and for Ford to walk away without another word.

But Ford breaks the silence with a sigh, and when Stan glances over at him he’s staring down at the ground.

“If it’s any consolation...you’re much smarter than me in a lot more places than you realize”

Okay, now Stan has to laugh. “Okay, now you’re being too nice to me. You don’t need to lie to make me feel better”

“I’m serious!” Ford’s cheeks flush pink again, and he adjusts his glasses before returning his gaze towards Stan. “There’s actually been a fascinating number of studies about intelligence lately, and, well…” Ford’s face is turning redder by the minute, Stan swears. “It turns out that…there’s more than one type”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “You’re losing me here, Sixer”

“Well, you see, I thrive in academic intelligence. Math, science, history, you know, school stuff. That’s the most commonly known type of intelligence because a lot of our formative years are based on it”

Stan doesn’t say anything, just raises his eyebrow even further.

“But,” Ford continues quickly, “They’ve also made discoveries about the existence of social intelligence”

“Social?” Stan blinks, suddenly finding himself significantly more interested. “You mean like talking to people and stuff?”

Ford nods. “Precisely. They say people with high social intelligence are much better at picking up on social cues, and can make friends with others much easier than those with lower social intelligence.” Ford kicks at the sand. “The reason social intelligence hasn’t been recognized is because it’s often mistaken for having a friendly personality”. His face flushes pink again, like he’s afraid he said the wrong thing. “Not that a person can’t have both, but…”

Stan smirks, nudging at Ford with his elbow. “Stanford Pines, are you calling your good-for-nothing brother intelligent?” He teases, but can’t help the genuine smile creeping to his face.

“Think about it!” Ford throws an arm into the air, the other one tightly gripped on the swing to prevent himself from falling off. “Every time Ma and Pa leave us in charge of the shop so they can go to Atlantic City for the weekend, who’s the one bringing in all the customers? Who’s the one selling out our daily stock less than two hours after we’re open? You are, Stan, just by being yourself. You know how to persuade people into buying our stock at ten times the listed price.”

“You can’t learn that from twelve years of public school. They can try to teach you, but at the end of the day it’s all about your ability to connect with people” Ford rubs at his arm. “I’ve tried teaching myself those kinds of tricks for years, but at the end of the day…” he shakes his head. “I’ve never been able to catch up.” He smiles. “I raise my white flag to you, Stan. You’ve outsmarted the smartest brother in the world”

Stan chuckles. “Try telling that to Principal Comb-over. He hears you saying the so-called dumbest clown in the entire school system is smarter than you and he’s going to cart you away to the loony bin”

Ford laughs. “You know, now that I think about it, there may actually be a way to tell him off for what he said about you and get away with it scott-free”

Stan raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? How so?”

Ford smirks. “I think you should try to graduate out of spite”

Stan’s not sure he follows. “Whaddya mean?”

“I mean, think about it” Ford stands from his swing and begins to pace back and forth. “The principal called both of us down even though he only wanted to speak to me, and then he talked shit about you even though he knew you were sitting right outside his door?” he pauses in his pacing. “Stan, he knew that you could hear him. Maybe he didn’t intend for you to listen in when he was talking to Ma and Pa about my scholarship opportunity, but he knew you’d be listening the moment you were brought up in the conversation”

That’s…true. Stan was just about to sneak out before he heard them say his name.

“He’s expecting you to fail, and he wants to put it in everyone else’s head too. He thinks it’s the easy way out, because if you choose to fail out on your own than he doesn’t have to take responsibility for being such a shitty educator. It gives him the chance to say look how he didn’t even try instead of look at how we failed him.”

“But if you proved him wrong? Imagine the look on his face when he has to be the one to place that diploma in your hand. Imagine him having to look you dead in the eyes and tell you he’s proud of you. You’ll know he’s speaking bullshit, but he knows he can’t talk shit about you anymore without making himself look bad.” Ford smirks. “Matter of fact, imagine the looks on the faces of everyone who’s ever doubted you walking across that stage. Pa alone is gonna have a heart attack”

Ford’s smile softens. “I already know that you’re much smarter than you’re given credit for, and I think it’s about time that everyone else recognizes that too”.

Stan’s cheeks burn red, and he shyly kicks at the sand. “Heh, thanks. I appreciate it.” He says. “But even if I did manage to graduate, what am I supposed to do with a high school diploma? Every job application I’ve been skinning through recently says college, college, college”

“Well…” Ford taps at his chin. “Then why not go out for college?”

Okay, now he’s taking things too far.

“Pardon?” Stan mocks, because if Ford thinks that Stan’s going to willingly take four more years of classes than maybe he should be carted away to a loony bin.

“I’m serious!” Ford blushes. “Maybe not a high intensity school like West Coast Tech, but college is so much more freeing than high school, Stanley. It’s not class after class on subjects that other people tell you to take. It’s personalized. If you hate science class so much, you never have to take another science class again”

Ford’s blush darkens. “I know that school is a big drag and all, but if you asked me?” he averts his gaze. “I think you’d really benefit from business school. Charisma and social intelligence is the number one thing that big name businesses are looking for, and I know you’re filled to the brim with both. Ultimately it is your decision, but…” Ford fiddles with his thumbs. “Just…just consider it, okay?”

For a brief moment, Stan just wants to burst out into hysterical laughter. Ford’s been offered the opportunity of a lifetime at one of the best schools in the country, and he’s still taking the time to help out his good-for-nothing brother who’s been cheating off of his exams for the past ten years.

Instead he settles for a roll of his eyes. “Alright, Professor Poindexter, I’ll consider it”

Ford giggles at that, and for a few moments neither of them says anything, watching the waves gently lapping on the beach in the short distance. It’s a comfortable silence, a reassuring sort of feeling that Stan hasn’t felt in a long time.

The frantic beeping of Pa’s wristwatch interrupts them, and both boys flinch at the sound in unison. For a moment Stan is worried that Pa’s standing behind them having heard every word, but when he glances over at Ford, he sees him rolling up his shirt sleeve to reveal that he’s the one wearing the watch, and clicks the alarm off.

“Pa made me borrow it so I wouldn’t be late for the presentation with the school board” he rubs awkwardly at the back of his head. “I’ll probably give it back as soon as I get home tonight”

Stan smirks. “You still hate the sound of that thing too, huh?”

“I can still hear it in my nightmares,” Ford exaggerates, his eyes going wide, and the twins burst into laughter as they both stand from the swings and stretch their arms and legs to wake them up from sitting for so long.

Ford wipes at his eye as he fidgets with the wristwatch. “So…do you think you’re going to be okay?”

That in itself is a pretty loaded question that could take him all night to answer, but all things considering…

“Yeah,” Stan smiles. “I think I’ll be okay”

Ford smiles back, and gestures with his thumb towards the direction of the pawn shop. “Then I’m going to head home and get ready for my presentation. You coming?”

Stan shakes his head. “I think I’ll stay out here and just…watch the ocean for a little while longer”

Ford’s smile softens, but he doesn’t say anything else. He turns heel and walks back towards the house, and it feels as though a giant weight has just been lifted off of Stan’s chest. He glances back to watch Ford go, but finds comfort in the feeling that he feels nothing at all.

~~~

Nearly five hours later, Stan sits at home, watching television on the couch to pass the time. Just out of the corner of his eye he sees Ford slip into the kitchen and gently click the door closed. Stan shuts the TV off, and spins around on the couch to face his brother.

“Well?” Stan asks, though he knows he doesn’t even need to bother asking, given that Ford looks like he’s about to burst. With a shaking hand, Ford reaches into his pocket and pulls out a glinting white envelope.

If he’s trying to keep an air of mystery about it, he’s doing a really bad job, because all at once his composure breaks and the smile that spreads across his face looks as though it could burn out the sun.

“They loved me!” He shouts, excitedly pacing the floor. “They told me they’ve never seen anyone else like me!”

His smile is so contagious that it hurts.

Perhaps another day, in another timeline, Stan would take offense to Ford’s excitement to bounce off to the other end of the country without him. Perhaps he’d even lash out, or do something he would’ve immediately regretted.

But here and now, Stan couldn’t be happier for his brother if he tried.

#my writing #gravity falls #stan twins #stan pines #ford pines

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nbrook29 · 3 years

Text

I might have committed a fic after Sobbe texts 😁

* * *

“I still don’t get how you go from space to earthling. Why not just Sander?”

Sander lifts his head from over his midterm paper, cocking his eyebrow. “Says sterkerdanijzer,” he huffs a laugh, his tone carrying a teasing tone. “I mean,” pausing, he stretches his arms over his head after sitting in front of his computer for two hours straight, impish smirk growing on his face, “Is there a cryptic message hiding under it? Did you want to tell something to your followers maybe?”

He barely dodges the pillow Robbe throws into his direction.

“It’s cool,” Robbe tries, a little defensive.

“Sure it is, ironman,” Sander indulges him, snorting at the middle finger he receives. “You’re so strong, baby,” he continues with his teasing, pretending to swoon, and he prepares for the oncoming attack when he sees Robbe jumping from the bed.

“Shut uuuup,” Robbe whines as his merciless fingers go straight to Sander’s sides, jabbing and poking and tickling until he reduces him to a crying-from-laughter mess, tears streaming down his cheeks to Robbe’s utter delight.

“Stop, stop, stop, oh my god you’re a menace, stop, I’m sorry!”

Robbe pulls back, a beaming smile on his face at Sander’s easy capitulation and breathlessness. He uses his momentary haze and grabs his chin to press a single kiss to his lips before backing off and flopping back on his bed, bored again.

“Anyway, earthlingoddity is the coolest username in the world and if you think otherwise, you’re admitting you have no taste,” Sander quips once he straightens up his clothes, shooting Robbe a pointed look.

“Hey, I fell in love with you, I clearly have taste,” Robbe is quick to reply, pulling an unexpected blush from Sander who rolls his eyes to pretend he’s unaffected. Judging by Robbe’s smug face, he’s not very successful. Damn it. “Did you have any other usernames before or you came up with this pretentious one right away?” he asks cheekily.

This time, it’s Sander who flips him off, but he’s also a little too quick to deny, making Robbe suspicious.

“Me thinks you’re not telling the whole truth.”

When Sander pretends he doesn’t hear him and tries to look extra focused on his paper, Robbe sits up on the mattress, cross-legged, and smiles at him tongue-in-cheek. “Come on, tell me.”

“Nope.”

“But why not?”

“Cause they’re embarrassing.”

Robbe gasps, super invested now. “Tell me tell me tell me.”

“Nope, you’re never gonna find out,” Sander shoots him a faux-apologetic smile before going back to his essay, and Robbe starts to wonder whether he’s seriously not aware.

Of the beautiful new feature on instagram.

That allows you to check a person's previous usernames.

Robbe snatches his phone from his nightstand, anticipation building as he clicks on Sander’s profile and then on the three dots to get to the feature and-

Wow.

This is officially the best day of his life.

It’s all there. And it’s better than Robbe could have dreamed of.

He’s not capable of containing his glee. Squeezing his lips to keep the laughter in, he glances at Sander’s unsuspicious face.

“Hey Sander,” he starts, his boyfriend immediately turning his eyes in his direction. “Or should I say... Sanderschmander?”

His eyes turn as big as saucers, blood draining from his face and jaw dropping in an utter shock, and Robbe is consumed by a fit of giggles.

“How the fuck-”

“I have my ways, CRACKEDBOWIELICIOUS!”

Sander’s eyes stop at Robbe’s phone screen that’s still turned on.

“Where did you find it???”

Robbe doesn’t answer, rolling on his bed and laughing, the giggles getting stronger when he feels a dip in the mattress and Sander rips the phone out of his hand, muttering “fuck” under his breath.

“You’re such a dork,” Robbe squeezes out, “so misunderstood, almost like a misunderstoodearthling. Oh my god, I love you so much, I could kiss you right now!”

Sander keeps glaring at him, but the corners of his lips start twitching as he watches Robbe’s red face, and soon his facade breaks and the first giggle breaks out. Robbe pulls him down on the bed, performing one of Sander’s signature moves and trapping him under his body, hovering over him, lips stretched into a giant smile.

“You’re an even bigger Bowie stan than I thought.”

Sander makes a duuuh face, fingers combing through Robbe’s fringe that keeps tickling his own forehead. “Hey, didn’t you say something about a kiss?” He purses his lips.

Robbe nods eagerly and leans closer, stopping only millimeters from Sander’s lips. “One kiss for my earthling coming right up,” he whispers with a giggle, before closing the distance and erasing any good comeback from Sander’s head.

#wtfock #don't mind me i just had to get it out of my head #lmao #my fics

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luvholicz · 3 years

Text

pairing. nct's kim doyoung x gn! reader

genre + wc. established relationship, fluff + 1.1k

warnings. n/a

notes. dedicated to my bestie who is Obsessed with doyoung and inspired by a video i saw on instagram. i hope i did it justice </3

reblogs are greatly appreciated!

laughter bubbles from your lips as you take doyoung's hand and lead him into the pouring rain. his protests fall on deaf ears, a small pout tugging at the corners of his mouth as droplets of rain land on his hair.

"don't look at me like that," you say, taking his face between your hands. your palms are cold against his skin, fingers trailing down his collar bones.

"but it's cold and wet out here," he whines, shivering when your freezing hands find their place on the exposed skin of his hip where his shirt has ridden up.

"can't we just stay inside?"

doyoung takes your hands in his and locks his fingers firmly in yours. he brings them to his lips, kissing between your nuckles.

"we could cuddle, drink some hot chocolate, maybe watch a movie? doesn't that sound better?" he mumbles in between kisses.

warmth explodes in your chest like fireworks when doyoung stares at you, eyes filled with nothing but genuine interest and adoration. his breath fans against your cool skin and has blood rushing to your head. his eyes twinkle like city lights when he looks at you.

"but don't you wanna dance in the rain?" your voice tapers off at the end. you toy with the damp strands of doyoung's hair, biting your lip as you give him your best puppy eyes.

the battle that doyoung endures is evident in his eyes as he debates on whether or not he should succumb to you. a pensive look crosses his face before he sighs, shoulders sagging as he relents and falls into your spell. "fine."

a grin breaks out on your features as lead him further into to the rain, right in the middle of the empty street. doyoung fights the smile that threatens to pull at his lips, a fight that he loses when he sees the joy filled in your eyes.

"be careful!" he warns, grabbing your shoulders and steadying you when you almost trip on your feet.

doyoung rolls his eyes when you spare him nothing more than a mischeivous giggle before escaping from his grasp and jumping into the nearest puddle.

admittedly, he's cold. very cold, and sopping wet. rain drops run down his cheeks and his clothes are heavy on his body. he wants nothing more than run back inside your shared apartment and fix both you and himself a warm bath. call him paranoid, but he can already feel the slight tickle of an oncoming cold at the back of his throat.

just as he's about to call out to you to tell you that you two should probably head back inside already, he catches sight of how free and happy you look under the pouring rain. twirling and giggling about, the biggest smile occupies your face and doyoung's protests die in his throat. there's no way he can ruin your fun.

this is the brightest doyoung has seen you all week- hell, maybe even all month. senioritis has hit you hard, and more often than not, doyoung will catch you hunched over your desk and the ass crack of dawn doing some 'last-minute revising' on an essay that was due 2 weeks from then.

it brings a smile to his face. there you are, dancing in the rain and laughing without a care in the world. your movements are unencumbered and doyoung is almost envious of how you can let yourself go like that. your giggles echo down the street and brighten up the world.

doyoung's heart pounds in his chest when you turn around and beckon him to come over. his heart beats loudly in his ears as he takes a few tentative steps towards you and he wonders if you can hear it too.

doyoung is surprised when you take his hand and twirl him unexpectedly, giggles leaving his lips like flowers bouncing in the wind; delicate and dainty. he almost trips when you spin him, but you catch him. you always catch him.

silence fills the air between you two when doyoung regains his footing. you nuzzle your face into the crook of doyoung's neck, breathing in his comforting scent. familiar hints of pomegranate and coconut infiltrate your senses and you can't help the way your eyebrows quirk up in surprise.

"have you been using my body wash and lotion again?"

doyoung chuckles, the deep sound resonating from deep within his chest. your ears soak up the sound and you practically preen when he plants a feather-light kiss on your cheek.

"maybe," he mumbles against your skin. his warm breath fans across your face and contrasts the biting cold that nipped at your whole body. you snuggle further into his arms and doyoung holds you tigher.

the two of you sway together to a melody that only you can hear, lost in your own world.

you jump when thunder claps overhead, interrupting the little moment you have taken for yourselves. the rain becomes stronger and becomes pounding. the man in front of you begins to laugh, shoulders shaking with every guffaw he lets out.

"what's so funny?" you pout, but you can hardly keep the smile that fights to pull at your lips. doyoung's eyes shine with mirth as he looks at you.

"nothing, i just think you're really cute when you get startled," he says when he finally regains his breath. your frown deepens and you try to pull away from him but doyoung is fast to trap you in his embrace once more.

"don't look at me like that," he imitates your words from earlier. you roll your eyes and hide your face behind your palms so he doesn't see the way your lips begin to curl.

doyoung smiles at your childish display. he drags his finger up your arm and revels in the way goosebumps rise where he had touched. he cups your cheek in his large hand, frowning when a shudder racks through your body.

"hey, it's getting really cold. we should go inside," doyoung doesn't miss the way your expression drops slightly. he sighs. "i can fix us a warm bath and some hot chocolate, how does that sound?"

he nudges your shoulder but you don't look at him. he frowns. "come on, love," he goads, but your persistent. "we can even cuddle by the radiator, if you want?"

that seemed to have pleased you, doyoung notes. the corner of your lip twitches slightly before you speak meekly. "will you even read to me?"

doyoung rolls his eyes in amusement. "yes," he says with a soft chuckle. "but only if you play with my hair."

"yay!" you cheer, wriggling out of his arms before breaking out into a jog. "last one into the apartment has to do the laundry next week!"

"oh, you're on!" doyoung shouts, sporting a gummy grin.

the two of you race into your apartment complex, boots pounding against the hardwood floors and staining the freshly-waxed floors. doyoung is sure that you two will be receiving a noise complaint soon, but he couldn't care less at the moment.

#ficscafe #neoturtles #nct #nct 127 #kim doyoung #doyoung x reader #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #kim doyoung x reader #doyoung #nct fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct drabbles #nct 127 drabbles #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines #doyoung fluff #kim doyoung fluff #$ulat

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boeswhore · 3 years

Text

rest up → luke patterson

prompt: reader is stressed with finals and luke makes her take a break and rest up so she doesn’t overwork herself.

warnings: none i can think of :)

prompt list one!

50. “you need sleep”

my masterlist!

•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:••:•:•:

you rub your eyes in attempt to get rid of the oncoming sleep that was consuming your body at the moment. you had three essays you had to complete for your english class and then a big biology final that is worth more than half of your grade and you could easily say you were on the edge.

you huff in annoyance as you place your fingers back onto the keyboard of the laptop and continue typing your essay. all you wanted to do at this point was be with your boyfriend who you had no time for since you started studying and working on your assignments.

he of course was upset since you couldn’t be with him to cuddle but he occupied himself with alex and reggie. you let out a deep breath, running your fingers through your hair feverishly as a knock on your door intrupts you.

luke stands there with a shy smile on his face but then pouts when he sees your state. “baby, what’s wrong?” he asks walking towards the bed. “nothing luke, i’m fine. just stressed that’s all.” you mumble back, returning your gaze and focus on the half written essay in front of you.

“take a break baby, it’ll help.” he suggests and you sigh shaking your head. “i can’t exactly do that.” you murmur, eyes not leaving the laptop. you hear him sigh slightly before he gets up to press a kiss to your forehead. “i’m going to go rehearse y/n, i have a gig tomorrow. you’re still coming to that right?” he asks and you nod.

“of course i am luke, i wouldn’t miss that for anything.” you whisper and he smiles. “take a break alright darling? i’ll be back in a couple of hours.” he states firmly and you smile at him before returning back to your paper.

a couple of hours had passed and you still sat in the same spot at your desk, eyes glued to the laptop screen in front of you. you feel your eyes beginning to water from the stress that was starting to overcome you.

“love? you’re still up?” luke questions. you turn around to see a freshly bathed luke who walks towards you. “you haven’t moved at all, have you?” he says and you sigh.

“luke, i don’t have time to take a break.” you mumble and he scoffs. “yeah you do sweetheart. you’re overworking yourself.” he states. you look up at him and he frowns. “baby, when was the last time you slept?” luke questions.

“i honestly can’t remember at this point.” you reply causing him to scowl. “your eyes are begging for some sleep, you’re getting some sleep right now.” luke says firmly and you open your mouth to complain but he gives you a glare. “but luke, i have to finish this.” you whimper, tears beginning to pool your eyes and he pouts.

“hey no, don’t cry baby.” luke murmurs, pulling you into his embrace. you wrap your arms tightly around him, pushing your face into his chest. “you got this in the bag y/n! you are the most smartest, intelligent girl i know! and i’m always here to help you. don’t forget that.” luke starts.

“and now i want you to get some sleep, i’ll wake you up in a few hours, and no complaining. you need sleep.” at this point you were too tired and drained to fight him back, nodding as you keep your grip around him tight.

“alright, let’s get you in bed little one.” luke coos, placing an arm under your leg and one on the small of your back, lifting you in his arms carrying you to the bed. “don’t leave.” you whisper and he nods. “i wasn’t planning to baby.” luke replies, slipping in next to you, wrapping the blanket snugly around you.

“now come here, i need cuddles from my girl.” luke grins and you laugh, resting your head against his chest as he tightly wraps his arms around your waist.

“goodnight baby, i’ll be here when you wake up.” luke murmurs as he looks down to peek at you, but you were already sound asleep, in the arms of your boyfriend. he smiles to himself, pressing a kiss to your forehead before closing his eyes himself.

•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:••:•:•:

#luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagines #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp #alex julie and the phantoms #reggie julie and the phantoms

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herbgerblin · 3 years

Text

okay so Fitzroy, right?

TD;LR: He’s a good boy. I have some concerns with how the events of the two most recent episodes played out. But I am intruged to see how things end up. //Spoilers ahead.

I don’t speculate often, especially when plot things are still ongoing, but imma swing that bat today: I kinda wish the Realm of Goodcastle really was a scam.

Now, I have an inkling that Travis fully thought that the Thundermen were going to engage in battle in this most recent episode, hence the Dramatique™ Reveal of the oncoming calvary. I think it would have been really great for Fitzroy’s big moment of hope to take place when straits seemed most dire. But because the boys chose not to engage the army immediately, I think the reveal got kind of undercut. Aaaaand Fitzroy’s character progression got dampened a bit. In this essay i will

Throughout the season there’s been lots of imagery of Fitzroy’s idealized self. He sees oppulence and power as intrinsically tied, (makes sense growing up middle class) so snobbery and granduer is just par for the course of his desired lifestyle. But while I think that while he considers his idealized self as wholly deserved, he still treats it like something that must be attained.

His superiority complex makes him overly critical of his surroundings, but it also gives him clarity to other people’s facades. Since propriety is leveraged towards Heros™, accusations against them are dangerous. Yet Fitzroy is first to call bullshit on his superiors’ misdeeds, especially when no one else dares to acknowledge them, and doubly especially on behalf of his friends.

Nua needs Heros™ to “save the day,” but the Heroic Oversight Guild has never operated on behalf of the actual population. Real people need folks in power to protect their lives. So to that end, knighthood is justifiable a career choice—a heroic choice, yes—but without the moral ambiguity of playing into a false narrative. Fitzroy would be loyal to Goodcastle and work in their interest.

Which goes back to me preferring that Goodcastle did not exist, because knighthood was never the root of his desires. He sought heroism when knighthood failed. He accepted Villiany when Heroism falled. In Chaos’s dream, as a god-king, he was set up to lead a life of tyranny. But in that scenario, he forgives the rebel who tried to kill him, and invites him to a party to boot.

Because his pursuit of power was always in service to do good. His aquisition of wealth makes sharing it with others more fun. But by making him an actual knight a la dumb luck, his personal successes in spite of a broken system feel less impactful. I do think that Fitzroy’s adaptability and lack of stagnation is why Chaos and Order are hinging all their stakes on him. Still not sure in what way though :0

I couldn’t fit this in the main thing but also!!: I wish the rediscovery of Fitzroys magic—his real magic, not given by Chaos—continued in smaller increments. I get that the boys are trying to reach finale territory, but the fairy party scenario to induce the rest of it came out of left field. It definitely should have had a trigger warning. I think fairy magic as mind alteration can work for humor in a fantasy setting. But the mentioning of real, actual hallucinogens, plus the forced power dynamics of teacher and students at play was not the way to go. I thought Travis was going to play that off immediately, but the scene fully took it to those conclusions, so I’m :/ about it

Thanks for coming to my ted talk

#taz grad spoilers #taz graduation spoilers #sir fitzroy maplecourt #the adventure zone #taz g #drug mention #drugs tw #hallucinogen tw #herbgerb blerb #my writing

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from-a-reckless-writer · 3 years

Text

wrote a thing.

She is sitting behind you; back propped up against the harsh cement wall the double-deck is pushed against. She isn’t wearing her shirt, merely draped it over her frame. She is like this with you. Always partially naked, almost always bare but never completely. A sleeping short but no bra, there; grinding on your thigh with only a tank top and no underwear, here; and now, chest bare with only a shirt draped over.

You hear rustling and you know she is reaching for the pack of cigarettes and lighter on the head of the bed.

You are proven right.

You hear the flicker of the flames and the string of cigarette smoke climbs into your nostrils. You lace your shoes first before even wearing a bra. The first time you did this in front of her she laughed at you.

Shoes first before a bra? If you hadn’t just fucked my brains out I’d have half a mind to call you a psychopath.

She always smokes the same brand of cigarette. The ones whose sticks are black, as if a premonition of the blackening of her lungs if she keeps at it. It is always the one with the menthol aftertaste.

“Do you always have to have cigarettes after sex?”

“They're called stimulants for good reason you know? And besides…”

She trails off and it irritates you, because her trailing off means that she knows you’re thinking the same thing; implies that with you, she doesn’t feel the need to finish her words out loud because she is all too aware that you have already finished the sentence in your head.

It is most irksome.

“Besides what?” You spit out, even though you already know the answer; even though you know that she knows you know.

“Besides,” she drawls, and even with your back to her, you know there is a puff of smoke around that one word.

“You like the taste.”

You feel liquid fire running in your veins. Of course, that’s what she would say. That’s what you were thinking of, wasn’t it?

“They’re bad for you.”

You hook the clasps of your bra together.

“Mm. Like how I’m bad for you?”

“Fuck you.”

“You just did, baby.”

******

There is no love there, you think as you wait for a cab below her apartment.

Above, you know she is listening to the trashy music you know she doesn’t really like but always listens to. You hate that you don’t know the reason why she does this. You hate that she always seems to know more about you, than you about her.

You imagine what she does when she’s alone in her apartment.

In that cramped space of a studio apartment, where the kitchen faces the door of the bathroom and the bedroom is three steps away from said kitchen. The one place you’re sure would always be burned to the back of your lids till the day you die.

It’s yellow walls eternally living in the gray matter of your brain. It has embedded itself there, along with the image of her spread open for you each time and every time.

You raise your hand to hail a cab. A car stops in front of you, you look up one last time.

There’s the silhouette of a woman behind the curtains.

You leave.

******

The city rolls past your windows. Manila in the middle of the night feels like a neon lucid dream. Well, it is, if you look past the homeless children in the streets and the rows of carton boxes inhabited by cold bodies on the sidewalk.

You think about her and how cold the metal frame of a double-deck feels at night. You never ask about the person who used to occupy the top part of the deck. You don’t ask about how there is a whole drawer of clothes that she doesn’t touch.

You don’t ask and she doesn’t answer.

It’s always been like that between you, hasn’t it? An eye for an eye. A tit for tat. What you give is what you get.

The entire taxi smells like orange Lysol and you suppress a gag reflex. It gives you a headache. But the pain of it is nothing compared to the chasm inside your chest.

It’s been getting bigger and bigger, wider and wider, you notice. The gap always increases whenever you decide to lace your shoes and hail a cab.

You ignore it.

******

She doesn’t call you, the next Friday.

It’s not the first time she failed to call. Often, it’s a work thing or a university thing...or both.

She’ll call the next evening; always eager to fuck off the stress the prior day has inevitably brought.

She wouldn’t even bother with foreplay on days like those. It’s fine by you. You’re more than happy to get down and get to work.

You’ve always been an efficient employee after all.

Because that’s it, isn’t it? This is just a contract between the two of you. If you need an itch scratched, you'll dial the familiar number and she'll show up on your doorstep and the next minute her hands would be down your pants and vice versa.

It works. It’s fine.

But then, she doesn’t call.

Not during that Friday night and not during the next evening and before you know it, a whole weekend passes by.

You find your hand on her doorknob on Monday morning.

******

She slams the door in your face the moment she realizes you’re behind it.

You pound your fist on the locked door three times, twist the knob roughly for good measure.

“Tangina, just let me in.”

You hate how fucking needy you sound.

******

You wake up falling backwards, the back of your head hitting the bone of her legs painfully.

“Aw. Pucha, what the-”

You look up and there she is, looking down on you and then she is muttering under her breath.

“Idiot. Who fucking waits outside somebody’s door?”

You scramble to your feet.

You embrace her. Tightly. It surprises you both. You hear the breath get whooshed out of her lungs.

You feel her stop fighting against the hug. She turns soft. She sobs.

You let your shirt get soaked.

******

You don’t fuck that night.

You hold her instead.

******

You feel nauseous on the ride home again but this time you know it isn’t because of some cheap air freshener.

There is something different churning in your gut. It makes you want to throw up. It’s got to do with the ever widening chasm in your chest and the woman in the studio flat, you think.

No, you don’t think. You know.

You elect to ignore it again.

******

There is a man with his arm around you when you run into each other in the LRT. In the distance you can hear the whistle of a security guard. You can feel the rumble of the oncoming train underneath your feet. Somebody says, Please observe the following for your safety and protection while inside the station...Thank you for patronizing the LRT.

You watch in real time how a nebula dies.

The light bursting, exploding and then blinking out of existence all in the same breath.

“Nice to meet you.”

She extends a hand to the man beside you.

You try not to think about the fact that that same hand had trailed up and down your body not only two nights ago, how those fingers had mapped out every single scar down the back of your thighs, how that hand had cradled your face so softly before even softer lips descended on your own.

“Well, I should probably get going. I’ll let you go now.”

The five words grate against your veins like broken glass atop cement walls grazing trespassing robbers.

You try to crane your neck to follow her disappearing figure.

His arm gets in the way.

******

She doesn’t answer your Friday night call.

And the Saturday morning call.

And the Saturday afternoon call and the evening call.

And the Sunday morning call and the afternoon call and the evening call.

Once again, you find your back against her door on a Monday.

******

She finds you there; sitting stupidly, head thumping repeatedly against the wood.

You scramble to stand up so quickly you almost trip over your own feet.

“Hi.“

—is the most stupid thing to say in the history of stupid things to say.

“You didn’t answer my calls,” you’re quick to add.

“No answer is an answer.”

She jams her keys into the door.

“Yeah, I figured.”

You twiddle your thumbs, eyes cast to the floor.

She opens the door. You follow, naturally.

She takes off her shirt.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Well, isn’t this what you came for? Let’s get it done and over with. The sooner the better, I have an essay deadline tonight.”

“No, I-”

“You what?”

You stare stupidly, mouth closing and opening like a fish, with no words coming out.

“Ano?” She demands, “Wala? Well, if you’re not gonna fuck me I suggest you get out and stop wasting my time. Like I said, I have a deadline tonight.”

You can take the dismissal for what it is.

Or...

You can fight back.

You can call her out on her bullshit.

You can apologize for your stupidity.

You can-

You rush towards her and smash your mouths together harshly.

You make her cum three times that night, her letting out your name in breathy whimpers.

It doesn’t feel satisfying. It just leaves you feeling empty.

She doesn’t smoke after, this time. She just gets out of your arms, pulls out a chair, a charger and her laptop.

She gets to work.

You dress yourself. Shoes first, then bra.

“I’m sorry.”

******

You stop hearing from her.

You know better than to call her non-stop.

No answer is an answer.

******

The apartment is empty when you get there.

The landlord says it’s been empty for two weeks now.

She didn’t leave her future destination nor her new address nor her new number.

She didn’t leave anything behind.

Well, except maybe for…you.

#this isnt supercorp so pls just scroll past #because sometimes u just gotta write the most cliche thing to write about and get it out of ur system

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fredweesleyismyslut · 4 years

Text

Why Can’t I Have Both? Spencer Reid x reader

A/N: I got bored and instead of doing Spanish homework guess what I’m doing? You guessed it writing fanfic about Spencer Reid because he’s my baby and I literally love him. Anyways, let me stop fangirling so you can enjoy. Also, whoever’s reading this I love you and I hope you have a great day/night whatever the heck it is just know that it’s alright and it’ll be fine. Now, bye because I seriously have to sleep so I can make my friend his birthday present.

You and the team had recently gotten back from a job as you set you things down at your desk. As you were writing your paperwork, you noticed a couple of the early goers leaving Rossi and Spencer, currently your ex-boyfriend whom you were still friends with and still madly in love with. Then, left Garcia, Emily, and JJ as they waved bye to you. Last to leave was Derek who usually finished way after you, “Wow, you got somewhere to be, Derek? You finished up so quickly I almost thought we had an imposter. Give us back our chocolate thunderrrrr!” You jokingly shouted as you slapped his shoulder as he responded, “Yeah, Yeah. Don’t get used to it, I’m meeting up with a couple of friends tonight.” Nodding you waved your hand to him before going back to your paperwork. Looking at the time, you stretched, joints popping as the air-popped from them. Yawning you started to put things up, deciding that you would just finish it up in the morning and have JJ or Emily help you if needed. Leaving the work you waved at a couple of the people before getting onto the elevator as your phone dinged, Hey, you finished yet? The text read, from JJ, replying back you chuckled to yourself, Yeah, I finished most of it but I’m beat for tonight. Why? The reply came back almost instantaneously, Nothing just curious… You read it again, “What does she mean?” you said to yourself out loud, before forgetting about it moments later as you got into your car to head home. Once at your apartment, you pulled your keys out, unlocking the door as you heard the satisfying click, ready to toss everything onto the floor and pass out. As the door opened, the lights turned on as you heard a simultaneous, “SURPRISE!” Looking up, as you finally got over your shock you saw your team members, all with party hats on and a cake held by Penelope in the middle, as confetti fell in front of you. Scanning the room you saw Spencer, as tears flooded your eyes. Running out you ran to the elevator, trying to get the thing to hurry up.

As the elevator doors opened you heard footsteps behind you as the door to your apartment closed. “Sorry, maybe we shouldn’t have done that, today’s case was pretty rough,” said Spencer’s all too familiar voice. A hand touched your shoulder as you quickly wiped your oncoming tears, “It’s not that…” you responded, voice raspy from trying to hold the tears and emotion that kept welling up, “I just wanted to have a quiet birthday this year...especially after we-we broke up.” Looking up at him, your voice broke as you continued, shoulders shaking, “I-I can’t do this anymore Spence.” His face contorted with confusion, “Do what?” He fumbled with his hands slightly, clearly not sure what to do with them and how to comfort you. “I still love you, you idiot. I honestly don’t know how someone so smart can be so stupid sometimes.” you laughed at yourself a little as you stared at the ground, picking at the skin of your nails, “I’m trying so, so hard to keep my feelings in check so you don’t feel uncomfortable and when you do things like this..” you waved your hands around, “it makes it so much harder to not love you. Now each year for my birthday, all I’ll think about is this Spence, and you won’t be there.” Finally cracking under the pressure you choked back a sob as the tears came rolling down your cheeks. You watched as Spencer’s shoes came into view of your blurry vision, his finger swiped under your eye as he pulled you closer, “I will be here, y/n. We all will. We love you...I love you, y/n.” He gently pulled your chin up to face his deep gaze, full of worry, “I’ll always be here for you. I just...You know why we broke up, y/n.” his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, “I don’t want to hold you back. You want to work somewhere else and I don’t want to be the reason you stay at the BAU and not reach your dreams.” Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes as he watched you sob harder, “But why can’t I have both, Spence? I don’t want the job if it means I can’t be happy with you.” You choked as you buried your face in his chest, “You think that you’re doing this because you care for me but in reality you just don’t want me to get hurt, worrying about you every night thinking maybe an unsub finally caught up to you guys.” You hit his chest softly, “In reality, you’re just selfish, Spencer. I don’t care if I have to stay up till 3am every night if it means I can sleep in the same bed as you as you tell me random things. I don’t care about anything as long as it means I can hear your voice, your laugh, or see the face you make when you’re thinking about something. As long as I can be with you every living moment, then I don’t care, Spence because I’m seriously in love with you.” His grip tightened on your shoulders as the tears fell from his cheeks, he opened his mouth to say something but words didn’t come out as he looked you in the eyes and leaned closer, breath tickling your cheeks as he softly kissed your lips. His lips were slightly chapped as they usually were because chapstick was the last thing on his mind and you usually reminded him. His eyelashes fluttered as he met your gaze, “I-I love you, y/n y/l/n. I’m seriously, deeply in love with you, and every moment I get to breathe in the same space as you is like heaven to me.” His hand grazed your cheek as his thumb and forefinger pulled your chin up, “If you would, then I’d like to formally request to be your boyfriend, y/n.” You smiled softly, as you kissed his cheek, “If that’s the case then you’ll have to give me a written request in MLA font with an intro and conclusion, Spence. I’m going to need a whole ass contract so you don’t try to run away from me for my own good.” He laughed as you linked your arm in his, “Let’s go enjoy my birthday.”

Stopping at the door you looked at him, “Pull some shit like breaking up with me to not hold me back again and I’ll formally kick your ass, got it?” He nodded, kissing your forehead, promising “Never again.” As you walked in “Whoo” ing sounds insured as Penelope shouted out, “Our favorite work couple is back together! Guys, I’m so happy for you.” “You guys heard everything?” you asked, as Emily came around with slices of cake, “Well...most of it if you mean from the part where you confessed your undying love for boy wonder here and till you walked in...then, yes we heard everything.” You laughed at Penelope’s response as the team crowded around, all giving you hugs and birthday wishes. “You really need to keep that one, Spencer, she’s a keeper,” said David, to Spencer, before walking up to you and giving you a hug as well. The night couldn’t have gotten any better as you chatted with your friends and what do you know, Spencer actually did write a 1,000-word essay with an intro and conclusion formally asking you to dinner that weekend, wouldn’t expect anything less from the boy genius.

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omgrachwrites · 4 years

Text

Tell a Tale of You and Me - Chapter Three

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You knew that making a bet with Sirius Black was like making a deal with the devil but you just couldn’t help yourself. You had never been a heavenly woman.

Warnings: fluff, pining, slight denial of feelings, Sirius being adorable

Words: 2205

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this part, please let me know what you think and let me whether you want to be tagged! I love you guys so much! xxx

Chapter Three

Sirius huffed as he looked for his favourite jumper, it was the one that was lined with fake fur on the inside, and it was the warmest item of clothing the he owned and the weather outside told him that he would need it today. He threw the rest of his clothes that he hadn’t bothered to unpack from his suitcase and he still couldn’t find it. Grumbling swear words beneath his breath, he picked up another that would do nothing to protect himself against the cold weather and he threw it over his head.

The dormitory door opened with a bang, startling Sirius which caused him to get stuck in his own jumper, “Sirius,” a girl’s voice called out, it sounded angry. Sirius fought to free himself, and when he had, he found himself face to face with Lily. Her arms were folded and she was looking at him with narrowed eyes, her eyes were like two orbs of blazing green fire.

“What are you up to? Y/N told me that you were going to be helping her with her Quidditch performance which I’m happy about. But, since when have you done something nice for someone else and not expected anything in return?”

Sirius smirked, his handsome features enhancing as he did so, “oh, come on Lily!” he slung an arm around her shoulder which she immediately pushed off, “she’s my friend, and I know just how important this whole thing is to her. And, besides, I’d be extremely proud if she managed to kick Slytherin’s arse.”

His words did nothing to quell the angry look on Lily’s face, “yeah, well she’s my best friend, so you’re going to be on your best behaviour, otherwise…. I’ll hex you,” she threatened, pulling out her wand to show him that she meant business, “I’ve seen the way that you’ve been looking at her lately.”

Sirius chuckled, he admired the love that Lily had for Y/N but he didn’t know what Lily was talking about, he hadn’t been looking at Y/N any differently, “I’ll be good ma’am,” he gave a lazy salute as he shoved his broomstick beneath his arm, “c’mon. Let’s go,” he smiled and the two of them walked down the stone spiral staircase and into the common room.

Y/N was waiting for him by the portrait hole, her broomstick tucked underneath her arm.

“Have any of you guys seen my jumper, the green one?” he asked, Remus and James shook their heads and shrugged in response. Whereas, Peter smirked and looked over at Y/N.

Sirius’ grey eyes followed suit, it was the first time today that he’d actually looked at her. Her hair was loose against her shoulders; Sirius thought that it looked really pretty. Sirius also noticed that she was wearing a green jumper and she was smirking, “you’re wearing it, aren’t you Y/N?” he grinned and the pretty girl nodded.

“Okay, you caught me,” she said sarcastically, “it’s just so warm and comfy, it was really your fault for leaving it on the back of the armchair,” she sighed, “I suppose that you’ll be wanting it back now?”

“Oh, not at all, it looks so much better on you,” he winked, “and it brings out your eyes so perfectly Y/N,” he moved a strand of hair away from her face, so that he could see her eyes better. He cleared his throat and moved away from her when he realised what he was doing, in front of everyone, “come on, let’s get down to breakfast,” he smiled at her, his eyes crinkling and they both climbed out of the portrait hole.

“Breakfast? Are you mad?” Y/N scoffed with a giggle, we can’t eat and then ride brooms, it wouldn’t be pretty.”

Sirius pouted his belly rumbling as he did so. No breakfast? That was pretty much the worst news that he’d heard all year, “you know I get pretty cranky without my food.”

Y/N smiled at him, her eyes gleaming, “well, you know how much I love breakfast food too, but I’m sure that we can both survive without it.”

Sirius grumbled, feeling annoyed as they walked right past the Great Hall, away from all those amazing smells, “you’re lucky you’re cute, Y/L/N,” he chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“You know Sirius; I really wish that I could say the same thing about you.”

Sirius gasped dramatically as he clutched his heart in mock heart, “you wound me so, pretty one.”

Y/N giggled and a comfortable silence fell over them as they crossed the cold grounds to reach the paddock where they were going to be training. It was like someone had cast a spell, for when they reached the paddock, Y/N almost immediately shied away from him, losing her usual snarky attitude. She glanced at him, before looking ahead into the dark trees that held a multitude of dangerous and magical creatures.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Sirius frowned as he brushed his hand up against hers.

“I’m fine, it’s just,” she hesitated and sighed, “what if I make a fool of myself? What if I can’t do it?”

Sirius chewed his lip; she needed to have more confidence in herself because Sirius had confidence in her, “listen to me, Y/N. I want you to be proud of yourself, because I am, I’m proud of you. I want you to believe that you’re good enough, because you are,” he cleared his throat and ruffled his hair, chuckling nervously as Y/N beamed.

“Thank you Sirius, you’re actually really sweet when no one else is around. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” she giggled, “so where do we start?” she asked and Sirius smiled at her, they had better start with the basics.

“Summon your broom and mount it.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him and folded her arms, an expression of impatience flitted across her face, “that’s beginner’s stuff; I can do that, no problem.”

“Prove it,” he shot back with a smirk on his face, he knew that she couldn’t resist showing off.

“Fine,” she sighed before she summoned her broom and mounted it perfectly.

“Well done,” he smirked, causing Y/N to glare at him before he reached into his robes and pulled a little white ball from his pocket, “I thought that we could enchant this and use it as a snitch. Remus gave it to me; it’s called a ping pong ball. Apparently, muggles use it to play some sort of drinking game,” he smiled, the foreign word rolling off his tongue.

The ball was extremely light weight and he tapped it with his wand, muttering an enchantment to make it hover. It took off through the trees which caused Y/N to hurtle after it, her hair streaming out behind her. Sirius smiled and got on his own broom, hovering above the forest as he watched her.

She wasn’t particularly fast but that was to be expected, she hadn’t played in five years. All she needed to do was to admit how free she felt while she was flying, once she’d admitted that then she’d be able to play Quidditch in front of the whole school.

Y/N zoomed back over with the ping pong ball after a little while, her eyes were narrowed and Sirius could see challenge and determination glistening in them. Sirius gave her some tips that would help boost her confidence before he re enchanted the ball. This time, he made it go towards the castle, making it more of a challenge for Y/N. Y/N climbed up towards the cloudy grey sky until she was just a speck in the distance. The young man chuckled as she swerved and performed an impressive loop to avoid an oncoming turret.

They practised until the early afternoon and when Y/N was too tired to carry on, she beamed as she ran up towards him and she threw her arms around him, knocking the wind out of him. Sirius recovered quickly, chuckling as he lifted her off the grass, spinning her around in a circle.

“Thank you so much,” she giggled, her voice was muffled against the material of his jumper.

“You’re welcome,” he shot her a boyish grin as he set her back down on the ground, “I was thinking, it would be a smart idea if we were study buddies. James is great, but he distracts me too much. I would really like to be within a chance of graduating this year,” he was telling the truth; he really did want to graduate. But, he also wanted to spend more time with Y/N, she had become more fun over the summer, it seemed.

“Fine,” Y/N agreed which surprised Sirius, “I suppose that I do owe you one, don’t I?”

----------------------

The rain battered the library windows, thunder cracked and lightning struck which caused you to jump every now and then. You sighed as you left scarlet ink splotches all over the rough surface of your parchment. You were working on your Defence against the Dark Arts essay; Sirius was late for your study session. You had been fool enough to believe that he actually wanted to get serious. People like him could never be serious; it wasn’t one of their capabilities.

Moments later, the boy in question came walking into the library, his wet shoes squeaking on the stone floor. You glanced up and forced back peals of laughter as you saw that he was dripping wet. Water droplets splashed from the ends of his long hair, he still looked so good. Your eyes followed the drops of water as they slid down his neck and disappeared beneath his collar. The muddy footprints that he left in his wake were enough to give Filch a heart attack.

“I’m really sorry that I’m late, sweets,” he shot you a dimpled smile, “the boys and I were setting up another one of our amazing pranks,” he chuckled and he conjured a bouquet of flowers from the end of his wand, “for you,” he offered them to you.

You looked at the beautiful flowers and then back at him, you supposed that this worked on every other girl but it wasn’t going to work on you. You had more self-respect for yourself, “I have hay fever,” you lied, “and I don’t care that you’re late, as long as you weren’t with a girl, we have a deal remember?” it was true, to you it didn’t make much of a difference whether he was there or not.

Sirius smirked, his grey eyes were soft, “are you sure that you have hay fever?”

You rolled your eyes and all but snatched the flowers from him. At your touch, they transformed into a hoard of multi-coloured butterflies, one of them kissed your nose before they fluttered out of the window. It really was beautiful magic. Sirius threw himself into the chair next to you and smirked proudly.

“I bet you do that with all the girls,” you scoffed and Sirius’ smirk widened as he rested his chin on his hand, gazing at you.

“Now that is just very untrue. And, hey, even if I did do that trick with other girls, it wouldn’t matter because you’re not like other girls, are you?”

You flushed at his words, unsure whether to take it as a compliment or not, “just get down to work; we’re going to study the theory of the patronus charm. Next time, we’ll be doing the practical side of it.”

Sirius smiled and nodded, pulling the parchment towards him, “did you really not care that I was late?” he pouted.

You shook your head, not looking up from your parchment, “nope, it makes no difference to me whether you were here or not.”

“You suck, Y/L/N.”

“You wish,” you looked up at the good looking boy and winked which caused him to flush a bright scarlet colour and he shut up after that. That was the trick with Sirius; you had to beat him at his own game.

There was silence for a good ten minutes, the only sounds were quills scratching on the parchment and birds were singing just outside the window, it was obvious that the skies were clearing up. You felt a poke on your arm and you knew that it was obviously Sirius; you sighed and ignored the annoying Gryffindor next to you. A couple more minutes went by and you felt another poke. Every couple of minutes he poked you, until you couldn’t take it anymore, maybe he didn’t want to study but you did, you wanted to graduate.

“Would you stop poking me? Merlin, you’re so bloody annoying!” Sirius chuckled at your angry reaction.

“I was just going to say, next time we should study in the boathouse. I don’t like being under the beady eye of Madam Pince.”

“We can, if you’re good from here on out,” you giggled.

“I’ll always be good for you, Y/N,” he winked.

You rolled your eyes with a smile as you got back to writing your essay, hoping that he would do the same. However, out of the corner of your eye you could see him looking at you for a moment, you wished that he would look away.

----------------------

@approved-by-dentists @thefuturelawyer @a-miserable-hufflepunk @firelordmillie @seriouslysiriuss @sleep-i-ness @play-morezeppelin @pregnant-piggy @

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bxthharmon · 4 years

Text

Never Go Home Again, Pt. V || JJ Maybank x reader

Words: 3628

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex tapes and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: underage drinking / drug use

Series summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy. teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: A trip to the cemetery and talks of the future

A/N: Okay THANKS FOR THE SUPPORT and as always, let me know what oyu think and if you wanna be tagged <3

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

“I mean it’s obvious, right?” John B looked around at the group, “A family heirloom, what better place to hide a message? He had to know it was gonna get back to me, right?”

“Yeah, it’s possible.” Kie assured her friend, looking back at Pope’s skeptical face and you and JJ, currently sharing a spliff.

“It could also be possible that you’re concocting wild theories to help,” Pope started, “you know, deal with your sad feels.”

“Bro, you know how I process my sad feels?” JJ piped up.

“Do we want to?” you quipped, taking a hit off the joint.

“Dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies.” he continued, making you snort., “That’s how I do it.”

“You know,” you looked at him, as if about to make a psychological evaluation, “you’re like, such a stereotype?”

“I’m not concocting, okay?” John B snapped, cutting off your tangent, “My dad’s trying to give me a message.”

“If it helps you believe, John B.” Kie assured.

“Look, I - I don’t need a therapy session, okay? I’m not trippin’ out.”

“It’s okay to trip out, bro, but-”

“Look my - my dad is missing, okay? Missing. You don’t know what it’s like to have the person closest to you vanish and then have no idea what happened. To just wake up every morning wandering.”

“It’s been almost a year.” Kie soothed.

“Hey,” JJ piped up, again, “He could have been kidnapped - that’s definitely a possibility.”

“Yeah, could be in a Soviet sub being interrogated by the KGB somewhere.” Pope offered.

“Absolutely. Or Atlantis!”

“Because a fictional, Ancient Greek allegory is the most plausible option.” you deadpanned.

“Y/N,” Kie warned, turning back to John B, “What do you think the message is?”

“Redfield.” he thought for a second, “Redfield Lighthouse, that’s my dad’s favourite place.”

He pulled into the woods, the group leading you to a picket fence overlooking the grey and white tower and the platform of rocks it stood on.

“I didn’t even know there was a lighthouse on this island.” you muttered, shielding your eyes from the sun.

“Alright here’s what’s gonna happen,” John B walked over to JJ, “You’re gonna post up and look out for bogeys, okay?”

“Wait,” JJ frowned, “why me?”

“‘Cause you’re not coming.” Pope said, as if it was obvious.

“Why?”

“Look JJ, there are independent and dependent variables.” Pope explained.

“You’re an independent variable.” you confirmed.

“We don’t know what you’ll do.” Pope added.

“Shut up!” he yelled at you both, “just shut up!”

“Listen to me for a second!” John B shouted over him, “Just listen. Pope and Y/N, stand look out with JJ, okay? If we get split up we’ll meet back at JJ’s house.”

You made eye contact with JJ, thinking of his dad, passed out on the sofa the night before.

“Great.” Kie interrupted your thought, walking away with John B.

“I’m gonna work on my merit scholarship essay.” Pope excused, “and I’m tryna keep felonies down to a minimum.”

“A’ight, will you just shut up?” JJ said, kicking around his hacky sack. You pulled yourself up onto a joint between a tree and its branch, watching JJ kick the sack around. You watched for a couple of minutes, admiring the way his eyebrows pulled in when he concentrated and his blonde locks fell over his face, or the way he pouted when the ball fell into the crisp leaves, before twisting around and kicking your feet out to rest on the branch. He looked up at you, a determined curiosity in his eyes. You looked back down at him, bracing yourself for the oncoming question. “What happened last night?”

You glanced over to Pope, who was too busy thinking to pay any attention. “My dad got drunk and started saying shit, I didn’t wanna stick around and I had no clue where to go. Thanks, for all of that.”

“It's nothing you haven’t done for me.” he reminded you. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

You smiled a tight-lipped smile, nodding quickly, “Of course.”

You dragged Pope into a game of hacky sack, and he was beginning to get the hang of it (after much teasing from you and JJ) when you heard the sirens. You swore, running to the Twinkie as the cars pulled closer, sirens wailing and lights flashing. You all jumped in, driving away despite your point that “Pogues don’t leave pogues behind, right?”

John B had picked up you, Pope and JJ, and after a short delay caused by Kie’s refusal (you explained to the boys that John B had kissed her and been rejected, which was all Kie had told you during your shift at the Wreck) you found yourselves on the way to the cemetery.

“You mind if I just relax on this one?” JJ spoke up, “It’s been a long day, and a lot of weird stuff’s gone down. I’m just gonna lay low,” he turned to you, “Did you want a hit of this?”

You took the blunt, inhaling the weed and exhaling the smoke. You offered it to Pope, who shook his head. You groaned. “Popey, you’re a total buzzkill!”

“How much have you had?” you flipped him off, “I keep the signal clear.” he shook his head, and you handed the blunt back to JJ.

“Dude, okay.” JJ leaned forwards like an old mage about to give the wisest advice of the century, “Do you understand that your problem is that you don’t get creative? If you got creative, then-”

“Look, John B interrupted, sparing you all from JJ’s wisdom, “I - I know I was wrong about the lighthouse, alright? And wrong about everything else going on. But I was right about one thing, okay? My dad is trying to tell me something.”

“Come on.” you hopped out of the van, and turned, grabbing JJ’s handed and trying to pull him up from the floor with all your might, frustrated when he giggled at your efforts, not having moved an inch. Kie scolded the pair of you, so you let John B lead you into the cemetery, tickling Pope on the back of the neck with a bit of long grass so that he panicked, spinning around like a deer in the headlights, searching for whatever ghost he thought had touched him. You and JJ giggled.

“This place is scary.” Kie shuddered, the torch lights swaying in time with the footfalls. “John B, what are we doing?”

“Shut up!” he hissed, “Okay, so you know how you’re trying to remember a song,” you prepared yourself for an unnecessarily long explanation, “and you can’t remember who sings it?”

You all hummed in understanding.

“So. Redfield. This whole time I thought it was a place, right? But it’s not a place.” He held up the light to show the word “REDFIELD” written over the door of a tomb, “It’s a person.”

“Voi-effing-la.” JJ snarked, and you elbowed him playfully.

“See,” John B continued, “My great-great-grandmother, Olivia Redfield.” he glanced back at you, “That was her maiden name. Look, help me with the door, come on.” he stepped forwards, him and Pope beginning to push on the count of three. JJ joined.

“Are you pushing?”

“Yeah, I’m pushing.”

“Hold on, I got it.”

“This door is, like, 700 pounds man,” Pope sighed, “it’s not gonna budge.”

“We didn’t come this far, to get this far, alright?” JJ countered. You and Kie looked at each other, fighting back giggles at the macho-man display in front of you. Your stifled laughs were interrupted by a hissing, the pair of you squealing slightly as you stepped back.

The boys pulled back as well, JJ throwing his arms out dramatically in front of you. “Snake!” he yelled.

“No shit.” you whispered.

“That’s a moccasin, alright.” he confirmed, “Ye olde Dr. Cottonmouth. Death in tall grass.”

He barked loudly at the snake, crouching slightly.

“JJ, Shut up!” Kie hissed, “Shut up!”

“You’re gonna wake the frickin’ dead, man!” Pope whisper-shouted.

“They’re afraid of dogs.” JJ shrugged like it was common knowledge, ignoring your confused faces, “Everyone knows that, man. Wait, hold on.” he pulled Kie and John B back, the four of you turning back to him with unimpressed faces. “If there’s one, there’s probably dozens.”

“What?” Pope fretted.

“JJ,” you groaned. “Stop being dramatic, it was just a snake.”

Pope and JJ looked at you almost offended, with terror stricken faces.

“Can you stop? You’re scaring me.” Kie begged. JJ started barking again.

“Oh my God, Jay.” you seethed, “stop fucking barking!”

“Just making sure it’s clear!” he argued, making you roll your eyes.

“Shut up!” Pope finalised, “John-”

“It’s a snake!” JJ countered.

“We’re not gonna get in there.” Pope continued, as Kie nudged you, pointing to the whole in the door. “It’s not budging. We should probably just go.”

“I can get through.” you spoke, Kie glancing at you with a worried smile.

“What?” JJ stared at you, concern striking his face, again.

“What?” echoed John B, “No, no, you think you’re gonna fit through the hole?”

“That hole?” JJ confirmed, and you nodded.

“Look,” you turned to face John B, “I know we only met like a week and a half ago, but I can see how much this means to you. If this helps you find him, or, at the very least, find out what happened, then of course I’ll climb through that whole. You deserve to know the truth. I’ll do it.”

Kie went forward to clear the vines away, and JJ frowned at you. “Are you sure?”

“For John B,” you reminded him, “I’ll try not to get possessed, you know, like the Tutankhamun shit. Though, if I did, I’d take all of you down with me.”

With that, JJ helped pull the vines to the side, allowing you entry. “I’m gonna boost ya,” he said, leaning against the wall in a crouch position with his fingers interlocked, “I’ve seen it in the movies several times, ready?”

You turned to John B, “Remind me what we’re looking for?”

“You’ll know when you see it.” he said, arms crossed and staring straight on. You nodded, not really assured, but ready to go in.

“Hold my flashlight.” You passed it to Pope.

“Okay,” JJ instructed, “Put your hand right there, and your foot. Alright, on three.”

You ignored him, pushing yourself up and clambering through the whole, jumping down onto the dusty ground on the other side. You brushed yourself off in the darkness, hearing JJ mutter “Okay, nevermind, just forget about three then.” the lights from outside were moving, and you saw the shadow of JJ moving away, and Pope moving towards the gap.

“Okay, flashlight?” you called, and are greeted by the feel of Pope thrusting a flashlight in your face, barely an inch away. You took it from him, clicked it on and shone it around. You could see the shapes of the individual tombs, and shuddered.

“You alive?” John B called, “Got like a - a heartbeat, and everything?”

“So far. No Howard Carter shit yet.” you confirmed, hearing JJ mutter something about Tutankhamun, and you slowly turned, looking at the dusty tombstones and plaques for clues. “Uh, I need some more light.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He handed you another light, “I got ya.”

You shone it towards a gap between two stones, stepping forwards slowly, trying to make out exactly what it was. An envelope of some sort?

“You got something?” JJ asked, “Is there gold?”

“Oh my God.” you muster, picking it up. You read the front, “FedEx”, and then next to it, in handwritten block letters, “FOR BIRD.”

You stepped towards the hole, holding the envelope and light out blindly as someone took them from you. You heard Pope say “That’s not gold.”

“Holy shit.” You heard John B murmur as you tackled your way out of the tomb, tumbling out of the whole with JJ’s help, “This is from my dad.”

You and Kie smiled softly, turning at the sound of a vehicle. JJ took a hit from his Juul, “Code red.” he called, “Code red. Square groupers. Square groupers!”

“Go!” Kie said, the five of you running from the headlights.

“It’s the guys who robbed your house!” JJ yelled as you all collapsed behind some tombstones, leaning around to try and see who they were.

“Lights!” You hissed, as the boys struggled with their flashlights. You clicked JJ’s headlight off for him, and he smirked in the shaky light. “John B - your light!” he tried to stuff in his shirt, making you smirk, idiot.

You could hear shouts, “Do you think it’s them?” Kie asked.

“Homie’s got a gun.” observed JJ.

“Screw this.” You grabbed Kiara’s hand, pulling her up with you and ran towards the gate. You let go, grabbing the gate and climbing, throwing your legs over one by one, and then hopping down the other side, only then noticing that the boys had, in fact, followed. Kie jumped down beside you, then JJ and John B. You looked back, seeing how Pope’s shorts were hooked over a loop, and he was stuck. You could see him panicking, and ran back to him, grabbing his waist as he yelled complaints. You pulled him back, stepping away from the gate a cackling at the sight of him standing awkwardly in his pants.

“Nice,” JJ commented, “It’s a little tootsie roll!”

Kie grabbed your forearm, the pair of you jumping in the car in fits if barely-contained giggles.

“Dumbass,” you mumbled through your laughter, helping him in, “Ain’t you ever jumped a gate before?”

“I have limited experience!” he countered, John B driving away.

“Guys,” you wheezed, you and JJ still giggling your heads off, “I’m pretty sure that was just the cemetery guards.”

You watched JJ spread jam over two slices of mouldy toast, disgust pulling at your features.

“That bread had mould on it three days ago.” Pope said, in passing.

“I’ll just pull off the bad parts,” JJ shrugged, “Plus, mould is good for you, it’s just a natural organism.”

“Jay, deadly nightshade is also ‘just a natural organism’, and, clue in the name, it’s deadly.” you pointed out, and he shrugged, joining you next to John B as Kie called to him.

“Hot damn, let’s do it.” he came, watching as John B pulled the seal off the envelope. He took a bite from the bread, and immediately gagged, spitting it back into his hand, and going to throw the bread away. Your face contorted in disgust, again, but softened at the sight of his sheepish grin. John B unfolded the map, and the five of you leaned over to check it out.

The map showed the island, a hurricane and ‘x’ marked in with a black marker.

“Holy shit.” John murmured.

“Well, ‘x’ marks the spot.” you pointed to the ‘x’ situated on the sea.

Next, John B pulled out an old fashioned tape recorder.

“What’s that?” JJ asked.

“A tape recorder, dummy.” you chuckled, “Where’d he get it, the 90s?”

“Dear Bird,”

“Who’s Bird?” you asked.

“That’s what my dad called me.” John B explained.

“I hate to say ‘I told you so’, but I told you so. And you doubted your old man. I suspect, at this moment you’re filled with guilt and self-loathing about our last fight, but don’t kill yourself just yet, kid. I didn’t expect to find the Merchant either.” you looked at the others, seeing their matching expressions of shock and wonder, “You were probably right to call me out, I wasn’t exactly father of the decade. What can I say, kid? I could smell the barn. And hopefully we’re listenin’ to this in our brand new sugar-shack down in Costa Rica livin’ off passive investments and pulling on permits. If not, and you find this for less optimal reasons, well, that’s what the map is for. There she is, the wreck of the Merchant. If somethin’ happens to me, finish what I started. Go for the gold, kid. I love you bird, even if I didn’t always act like it. I’ll see you on the other side.”

The tape went static, and you could see John B tearing up, your heart breaking for him. He clicked the recorder off, standing up and grabbing onto a door frame, sobs racking his body.

“Holy shit, he did it!” JJ grinned ecstatically, “Big John - He found, he found the Merchant!”

You slapped his arm, eyes widening in warning as you nodded over to John B. “Can you… can you please?” JJ nodded, looking down and muttering an apology. You could hear John B’s sobs from feet away. You watched Kie hug him from behind, and leant your head on JJ’s shoulder.

You lay between JJ’s legs, head resting on his chest as he played with your hair, and you watched Kie strum at the ukulele, your faces lit up by the fire beside you, the soft, glowing light illuminating your small circle.

“How much was it again?” JJ broke the relative quiet.

“Four hundred mil.” You responded in a low murmur, looking up at his golden face.

“Alright, let’s talk the split.” he lightened up, hands leaving your hair and coming down to meet your hands. “Now, before we say ‘evenly’, may I remind you that I am the only one that can properly defend us from those groupers who are after us.” he lifted the gun to show you all, ignoring the collective groan, “Protection, not cheap, okay?”

“You haven’t trained.” Pope pointed out. “You’ve done zero training.”

“Nada.” You emphasised, “Zilch.”

“Youtube, bro!” JJ justified. “That’s at least a five percent bump right there. Any objections?” he ignored you and Pope’s muttering, “Didn’t think so.”

“Yeah.” You and Pope said in unison, and you sat up, twisting to face him.

“Complaint right here!” you leaned away from him.

“I don’t hear any.” He pouted as you pulled away, reaching out for your waist and pulling you back down to how you’d lay before.

“Guys,” you twisted your head to look at the pogues. “I’m like, new here, and y’all don’t really know me, so like, are you sure you want me in the cut? ‘Cause I’d understand if not-”

“Y/N,” Kie shut you up, “quality over quantity. You’ve helped us, we’re all getting 80 mil, JJ.” she glared at him, making you snort. “what are you gonna do with your 80 mil, Pope?”

“Pay for college in advance. And also textbooks. Those are expensive.”

“What about you Kie?” you asked.

“Yeah, what does a socialist do when she’s rich?” Pope smirked.

Kie chuckles, shrugging, “Just wanna make a double album. About OBX, the pogues. You know, the way Catch a Fire’s about Kingston. Record it at Marley studio, Peter Tosh producing.”

“Peter Tosh is dead.” Pope said.

“Peter Tosh is dead, I know.” Kie grinned, “Spirit of Peter Tosh will never die.” she toasted with her beer, “What about you, Y/N?”

“Pay off my brother’s student loans.” You paused, “And travel. I wanna see Europe. And Asia, and South America. I wanna see other cultures, you know? Might come back here, one day, I might even go back to LA for a bit, but probably not, just come straight home after a couple of years, and go full kook.”

“Yeah,” JJ agreed, “I’m gonna get a big ass house of Figure Eight and go full kook.”

“You’re gonna go full kook?” Pope asked.

“Yeah.” JJ nodded. “Gonna get a marble statue of myself and then I’m gonna get a koi pond.” You giggled, grinning up at him. “Put a bunch of those fish-”

“I’m never visiting.” Kie laughed.

“What are you gonna do, JB?” Pope brought your attention to your other friend.

He looked back around at the group and toasted, “To going full kook.”

“To going full kook!” you all cheered, all of you laughing, drinks raised, and heads stuck in your temporary bliss.

Eventually, John B clocked out, heading to his room, and Kiara gave Pope a ride home, leaving you and JJ alone for the first time since last night. You had been drinking and smoking all night, while he had stopped uncharacteristically early. As a result, he was almost sober, and you were nearing wasted as you went to grab your stuff and head home. He put his arm around your waist, letting you lean on him as you ambled slowly towards your house.

“Jay?” you mumbled, and he hummed, helping you further down the road, “When we go full kook, we should combine our money to get an even bigger house.”

He smiled at the thought of sharing a house with you.

“You wanna share a house with me?” he stopped by your door, and you turned to face him.

“Duh.” you slurred, blinking up at him.

“I’ll warn you, I’m a messy person.” he gazed down at your drunken smile.

“I’ll manage.” you mumbled, leaning up into him.

You pressed your lips to his, feeling pure bliss for a split second, but sobering when you felt him move away, punching against the kiss. You stepped back, cheeks reddening as you realised what you had done, feeling stupid and embarrassed, wanting to disappear. You felt your vision go cloudy, and he was talking but all you could hear was the voice in your head screaming that you had ruined this perfect, happy friendship You frowned, trying to keep the tears in as he stepped away from the door, backing into the road.

“JJ, I…” you watched him walk away, his shape turning into a smudge that crawled away, and disappearing completely when he turned the corner. Then, you let yourself fall.

Tags: @tangledinsparkles @jellyfishbeansontoast @lolitstiana @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @teamnick @thoughtsofthestars @obxmxybxnk

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katierosefun · 3 years

Text

so after one really big latte, a muffin, a run which resulted in a near accident with an oncoming car, and a shower in which i contemplated my own mortality, here’s my thoughts on the adorable me & au podcast, because babe wake up new hyperfixation dropped. very spoiler-y, i’m sorry in advance for how f*cking long this is, this might only have like two people reading this but i have many thoughts please listen to this podcast because it’s so cute and i listened to it all in about 2.5 hours?

- firstly: the main character is super relatable. like, scary relatable. meet kate “acunningplan” cunningham, a gal about to enter her senior year of college and just kinda,,,lost. she works as a barista and very confused, very...stuck gal by day, fic writer (and still very stuck gal) by.........not barista hours.

- honestly, i love kate. idk i’m about to enter my senior year of college, and bro i related so hard to her fears of “bro i can’t even think about next week without feeling overwhelmed”. she misses her best friend whitney a lot, who is currently on the other side of the country for an impressive internship. so that can be kinda lonely.

- but fear not, kate has an escape, like so many other fic writers/fandom people: fanfic. this whole story references tumblr without actually naming tumblr (let’s be real....it’s tumblr, from the “notes” to “this stupid app keeps crashing”), and kate follows this tv show about werewolves and supernatural creatures. very gay. only problem is that there’s not a whole ton of people active in the fandom, since this show is relatively new.

- however, in this small fandom, kate meets ella: otherwise known as “hella-enchanted”, who is another fic writer.

- kate is very obsessed with the idea of alternate universes, and for that alone, i love her.

- okay, so even if you’ve never fallen in love with a person online/in fandom circles, i just wanna say that ella and kate’s interactions are still so super relatable. the shooting messages, the starting random conversations and getting a little thrill when you see someone liking your personal post or whatever. it’s very wholesome.

- also, at the end of episode 1, kate goes on about how “yeah, fanfic is kinda odd, but it led me...to you” and it was so soft and gentle you just know your heart is gonna melt huh

- at one point, kate decides to be vulnerable via vent post about something that came up on the show (and oh god yeah i feel...things. kate relates very hard to one character in the tv show she’s following, and tbh,,,yeah. i can’t quite word it right now, but i think anyone who feels kinda.....stuck? would relate.)

- the “EXACTLY ONE PERSON ASKED FOR THIS ESSAY SO HERE IT IS” please

- also oh :’)))) kate talks about ella’s playlists and when i tell you i squeaked a little bit because oh hey--

- anyways lol yes can you relate to like,,,posting a vent post and forgetting to delete it and being mildly horrified (but also mildly touched) when someone actually responds?

- ella’s very sweet, just responds with “seems like one of my favorite fandom people needed a pick-me-up” and :’))) i would die for ella! (i mean, i would die for all the characters)

- okay yes also all the bits where ella and kate scream at each other about fic. very relatable, very real, you can tell that the writers of this podcast really knew this feeling, and i just :’)))

- THE TWO DEBATE OVER TITLES,,,,,kate keeps sending in crack-y titles and also song lyrics, and ella comments on “well,,,i just read this whole wikipedia page, so i think i’ve lost the high ground”, so if y’all KNOW i started laughing at that

- also LMAOOOO the moment when conversation diverts from fic and fandom to slightly more personal things! kate being like “oh,,,,,you have an actual job! like,,,you’re an actual adult and.....how’s that?” and then quickly rambling on via message “actually let me change the topic because that’s probably too personal”...

- okay so there’s this bit where ella drops the fact that she’s never read anne of green gables because “listen,,,,you have an ex-girlfriend who sang the anne of green gables musical all the time--” and kate’s “.......ex-girlfriend? you had an ex-girlfriend? girl--” (and BACKSPACING ALL OF THAT because “god i’m such a freak”)

- much gay disaster

- so much gay disaster

- opportunity for kate and ella to meet irl comes up! at a fan convention! in toronto! (and kate lives in bc). kate’s best friend (remember, internship one?) invited kate over to toronto for this thing anyways, and then ella posts something about “heeeey i’m gonna be in the area so if anyone wants to meet up for the fan convention...”

- let me just say......kate chucking her phone across the room because she freaked out about that. again. very cool, very nicely done, very relatable, etc.

- ALSO,,,,i forget if this was one of kate or ella’s fics or if it was the actual tv show, but there’s this tidbit where the characters in the literal fandom has this conversation:

“don’t waste your time.”

“what?”

“don’t waste your time on me.”

and the way that reflects kate’s feelings-but-she’s-not-trying-to-think-about-it for ella please let me just die here

- okay, so kate does decide to message ella about the meet-up, and let me just tell you, kate’s inner monologue about the worst possibilities for ella’s responses:

“1. no response. which is terrible.

2. you find out you’re not wanted after all. :(((((

3. the most terrifying response of all.......” (an enthusiastic “yes i’m so glad we can meet up!!!”)

- well, of course ella responds with #3.

- gay disaster kate not knowing how to acknowledge her feelings for ella...she goes on this “you don’t wanna come across as....y’know because if they suspect that....y’know.....and like, i don’t....y’know--” oh my god kate

- anyways, kate works at a coffeeshop, right? and her co-worker stewart (nonbinary pansexual co-worker! we love to see the rep!!) being like “oh yeah maybe you can bring over your friend!” and kate panicking because “ohhhhh i’m not too sure about that,,,,she’s,,,,,,,,,busy......” (ie. the awkward moment of having to explain that,,,,,,your online friend isn’t exactly someone you’ve met in real life,,,,,,,,and not sure exactly how to explain that so you just,,,,,,“ohhhh uhhh......y’know...............it’s really hard to.......get her out of.....work.....”

- kate and ella video-chatting for the first time is very cute, very gay. very gay.

- they swap “how’d you know you were gay / liked girls” stories :’)))

- “that’s a cute story!” “you’re a cute story” [awkward silence] “please let me hide under the desk now” (have i mentioned that kate’s a disaster? i love her, but you’re a disaster. we need to be best friends.)

- kate.....describing herself as “irl fanfic disaster waiting to happen” and the whole “i didn’t know we were actually dating until she asked if she could kiss me” lmaoooooooooo (but okay yes this is also a mood? like,,,,,,idk something about heteronormative standards so like,,,,,it’s so stupidly hard to figure out if a girl is flirting with you or if they’re just being nice i am glad kate’s such a disaster)

- in other news: kate’s “how tf do i write a kiss scene i don’t like the word lips ughhhhHHHHH” (yeah, mood kate)

- lmao stewart (kate’s co-worker!) just chilling with kate and being like “oh yeah i figured you had a girlfriend? the one you’re talking about? ella?” and kate blanking because “wait you thought ella was my girlfriend? she’s not....uhhh....” and then later drinking with stewart and rambling about ella and panicking because “what if she realizes i can’t talk about anything except this tv show what if she thinks i laugh too loud what if i have horrific body odor what if she realizes i have NOTHING to say what if our meeting goes SO terribly that i need to deactivate and change my name just so i could like her posts at 3 am” and then her small “please forget i said any of that”

- oh kate :((((

- kate :((((((

- k a t e :(((((((((((((((((((

- anyways, kate does go to toronto.

- meets ella.

- very cute.

- ella...........very gay. they go into a coffeeshop and kate doesn’t know what to do.

- okay but what’s hilarious is that ella,,,,,seems so cool and suave and i too would be kind of intimidated by her but then these two idiots really talk about writing kissing scenes and the build-up and ella’s voice gets all,,,,,,suggestive and there’s this.....awkward gay silence between the two oh my GOD they’re both IDIOTS

- also okay yes kate and whitney, a irl friend, having a heart-to-heart. good. we love that. also, whitney being like “I MISSED YOU!!! YOU IDIOT!!!! and i’m glad you have a new friend, and you’re happy, but I MISSED YOU!!! I HATE THIS CITY AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING!!!” (whitney is also very relatable. ily whitney.)

- they’re so cute. they hug, and it’s sweet :’)) also, then kate says in a stupidly small voice “i think i’m....kinda in love with [ella]?” and whitney being best supportive friend--

- OKAY so we finally get an episode of ella’s perspective

- listen, you’re gonna think ella’s this cool, suave person who has all her own gayness put together (i mean, she kinda knew since she was 9 or 10 years old? she’s had a girlfriend? she seems like she has her life together? she’s waiting to get into grad school? she has a job? she just seems....cool and knows what she’s doing).

- but then you realize. ella is just as much a pining mess. (her bullet point list/schedule in her head is so relatable. as someone who uses her notes and reminders app religiously, that was just :’)))

- ella: reasons why this is not a date. and then....kate sends a message. (ella: reason why this....might be a date....kate keeps saying stuff like...that.)

- kate rehearsing how to tell ella that she maybe kinda likes her? very cute. (”you know the feeling in your chest when....uh, you know when you feel like you have a frog in your stomach--oh god not the frog NOT the frog”)

- the love confession is very cute, and also very relatable. “i like you a lot” “i like you too!” “no i mean,,,,like i like you. wait. which like do you mean? wait that’s not english. uh. what did you say?”

- kate’s “I HAD A WHOLE DRAMATIC FANFIC CONFESSION PLANNED OUT”

- kate and ella just spilling everything made me :’)))

- “i like how your brain works” “i made so many posts hoping that you would just talk to me” “you always make me laugh” “you just make me feel...better” “you make me smile”

- “this whole summer you’ve been making me smile and i guess it kind of freaked me out? ...i don’t know where my life is going but if i have a choice, i want to go in any direction you’re going because you are cute and smart and amazing and i like you a lot, ella. like that. so yeah. that’s what i was thinking i’d say.”

- i essentially explaine dthe whole plot but

- i love this podcast a lot

- it was very sweet

- and very cute

- very wlw

- i don’t even mind that i almost got hit by a car while i was running and listening to this it was worth it

- idk. just like. anyone who’s ever read or written fic or just like...not necessarily fallen in love with another person? but at least relating to that feeling of “oh god i am not qualified to talk to this person” and “oh god what if they realize i’m actually,,,,a loser” and “oh god wait how to friend” can probably hit a lot of people

- but that said. the romance was very cute, very sweet, makes me :’)))

- okay i’ll stop talking now but i just. it’s very cute, very relatable, i wish we had a season 2 but i think it’s a limited series. (but they’re living rent free in my head! forever!)

#caroline talks #oh god.......oh god #i'm so sorry for how long this is #but in case you couldn't tell i have literally so many feelings #so many feelings #yo @ me and au creators: thank u for making me feel seen and wanting to cry because of it!#it's beautiful #and very gay #and like idk even if you've never fallen in *love* with a fandom friend i think you can still hardcore relate to this?#just because like......bro there's something..........so soft about this #also.....gay disasters #also really saying 'hey everyone's actually super awkward there's no such thing as being cool and suave'#also just......AGH no someone please scream with me about this #i am going to SCREAM about this forever #i also....once again: feel WAY too seen #like.....WAY too seen #anyways #me & au

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