#( i was going to write more but matt convinced me otherwise )

[festivalsofmargot]

Pining in Potions Class {Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader}

Introduction: Sebastian Sallow is forming a huge crush on you, and it’s hitting him all at once in a very annoying way. Something as simple as not being partnered with you in potions class eats away at him. Gotta love some jealous Sebastian. Takes place after MC has met Anne and before completing his final mission. Some levity to enjoy being students with crushes.

Word Count: ~ 2,600

Warnings: None really, just some Hogwarts students crushing on each other from afar.

Author’s Note: You ever get in trouble with a teacher in class and look at your friend who’s trying not to laugh then you struggle not to laugh? That’s exactly the experience I was thinking of writing this haha. Come on, Sebastian Sallow and MC are the next Ron and Hermione, you can’t convince me otherwise. (Though I really head cannon over Sebastian and a hufflepuff) I wrote this so it was gender neutral and non house specific.

Songs (if interested): 

Hold Me Tight - Berlinist

She - dodie

WACKY - Matt Watson

Lady May - Tyler Childers

That day in potions class, Professor Sharp had told the students to partner up for the day’s brew, the focus potion. You and Garreth Weasley, being near each other already, looked at one another and gave an innocent shrug of your shoulders, agreeing to partner up.

Sebastian had partnered up with Natty and couldn’t help but glance your direction. He felt a pang of jealousy when he saw how close you and Garreth were standing when reading over the recipe in the text book. Quickly convincing himself he wasn’t bothered, he looked down at his and Natty’s station, trying to focus.

But he was bothered. You had still been around to help whenever he asked, but he couldn’t help feeling this distance starting to grow between the two of you. He had found himself coming up with any and every excuse to get you to help him with something, otherwise he didn’t think he’d be able to see you outside of class. He noticed you had a lot of assignments to do that required you to leave Hogwarts so he’s offered to go along to help. But every time he did you turned him down, saying you understood how busy he was with his research and would ask Poppy or Natty if you needed anything.

Today’s missed opportunity caused him to tap his fingers on the desk in annoyance as he looked over the ingredients. He wished he had some sort of a heads up if they were going to need partners in any of the classes they shared together. That way he could be proactive with where he sat next time.

“The reason I’ve partnered you up today,” Professor Sharp began, “is not because of the difficulty of the potion, the potion’s ingredients are few and very easy to keep balanced. The real challenge lies in the preparation of the ingredients. It will be strenuous work squeezing the juice from your dugbog tongues." The class made a collective sound of disgust which brought an amused smirk to the Professor’s face. 

Among the class’s sounds of repulsion, Sebastian heard you trying to stifle your giggles. His envy only grew when he realized your laughter was a response to something Weasley had whispered to you.

“Now, a slimy dugbog tongue will work fine, but a dried up tongue will make the potion not only more effective, it can last longer as well. Use the tools I’ve given to you to dry out the tongues, your arms will get tired so let your partner know when you need them to take over. Begin.”

Sebastian and Natty gave each other an inquisitive look, unsure of how to get started. 

“I guess we’ll start with the rolling pin?” Natty suggested, grabbing it and then making work of squeezing the juice out of the tongue. It was much harder than she expected. The more she rolled, the tougher it felt. “Whew! This is going to tire me out fast, be ready to switch, Sebastian.”

“Right.” Sebastian said. While he waited for Natty to finish her round, he couldn’t stop his gaze from wandering your way. He found it cute how you were trying to stand on your tiptoes when rolling out the dugbog tongue, hoping gravity would help you out if you were able to get more of your weight on it.

“Woah, Garreth.” You said, letting out an exhausted breath, feeling the burn in your arms. “Would you mind going to hang up my robes while I do my turn?” You asked as you shed the garment. You weren’t a stranger to physical labor, you knew when you were going to work up a sweat.

“No problem.” Garreth said, taking your robes and shedding off his own as well. “Was going to do the same myself. Not my first dugbog tongue, unfortunately.”

As Garreth walked off to the back of the class to hang up your robes, you rolled up your sleeves and got back to work.

Sebastian had a slight longing it was him who you had asked to hang up your robes as his eyes roamed up and down your backside. He didn’t think the school uniform fit anyone quite as well as it fit you. Realizing what he was doing, he mentally chastised himself and snapped his attention back to his table. At that point, Natty was holding out the rolling pin to him. He took it from her and she began shaking out her arms, seemingly too worn out to tease him if she had noticed his staring.

“Go as long as you can Sebastian, I might not have paced myself very well and overdone it.”

“Don’t worry, Natty. I got this.” Sebastian assured her, but as soon as he began rolling out the dugbog tongue he understood why everyone said it was so difficult. There was barely any squish to the thing! It was like trying to get orange juice from an orange made of marble. He poised himself, took a deep breath, and leaned forward, beginning his rolls again.

It had been a good few minutes of rolling when your laugh broke Sebastian’s focus, stealing his attention again.

“Garreth, stop it!” He heard you jokingly chide among the class’s chattering voices. While forcing himself to keep rolling, he looked over to see Garreth laughing with you, trying to get his hands on the roller while you were still giving a go at the dugbog tongue.

“Alright, we’ll do it together then if that’s what you want.” Garreth quipped. Sebastian’s stomach dropped when he saw the red head put both of his hands over yours on the roller to help put more force on the dugbog tongue.

“You’re a piece of work, Garreth.” You snickered, pulling away and playfully smacking his arm. Garreth shot you a sly smirk as he got into a better position to start his rolling.

“Don’t even try to hide it, you love having me as a potions partner already.” Though you shook your head at him, Sebastian noticed the amused smile gracing your lips.

Getting more fed up than tired, Sebastian stepped back from rolling and looked at Natty. “Alright, your turn.” He said with a huff. He took off his robes as well and offered to take Natty’s. 

Sebastian tried to catch your eye as he walked to and from the back of the classroom but to no avail, you were too focused on the dugbog tongue and Garreth’s jokes. He returned to his station and took the rolling pin back from Natty, his annoyance fueling him.

“You take over.” Garreth said, handing you the rolling pin. “I’m going to snag some dittany leaves.”

You let out a sigh at both beginning your rolls and what Garreth had just told you. Dittany leaves were not on the ingredient list and you both knew it. “Please stay here.” You pleaded.

This time, it was Sebastian who started to crack a smile as he eaves dropped on the two of you. Maybe Garreth can turn your oh so hilarious potions class into a nightmare. 

“Trust me, it’ll be a simple hybrid of a focus and wiggenweld potion.” Before you could protest further, Weasley had already darted towards the ingredient shelves.

You, not having the energy to call after him again, groaned and continued rolling. When he returned with a goofy smile on his face, you couldn’t fight back your guffaw at his ridiculous antics, letting out an adorable snort. “Garreth, I’m going to kill you.”

“Relax, I’ll take the blame if things go wrong. Just act like you didn’t know I added the leaves.”

Just as quickly as his smile formed, it vanished from Sebastian’s face. That was his move. He had taken the blame for you when you two got caught in the restricted section in hopes to impress you a bit. Surely taking the fall in the library was a lot more impressive than taking the fall for a potion mishap.

“Alright class, time is up on drying out the tongues. Go on and place all the ingredients in for your focus potion.” Professor Sharp instructed.

Sebastian and Natty put in their ingredients and began stirring, and sure enough, the pot turned the right shade of blue they needed. 

Suddenly, a whizzing noise came from yours and Garreth’s pot, grabbing everyone’s attention in the class including Professor Sharp’s. The whizzing noise grew louder and louder. The two of you looked at each other in panic, then out of the pot burst a small, smelly black cloud, giving a pathetic poot noise.

The whole class burst into laughter, including Sebastian. He couldn’t see your face because you were hiding it behind your hands, but he could tell you were laughing as well due to your shaking shoulders. Professor Sharp limped his way over to you and Garreth, the exhausted look on his face implied he knew it was more Garreth’s doing than yours.

It was then you finally looked Sebastian’s way, your face turning to a mix of hilarity and pain as you grabbed the side of your stomach from laughing too hard. You gave him a helpless face, hoping to convey to Sebastian how absurd working with Garreth was.

Sebastian gave you a smug look and began clapping his hands, “Well done.” 

You gave him a small smile and an oh well shrug and brought your attention back to Professor Sharp. 

The class had quieted down at the seriousness in Professor Sharp’s tone. As you and Garreth were getting a good scolding in front of everyone, Sebastian noticed you were biting the inside of your cheeks to prevent yourself from laughing further. He had to quickly look down to his feet, sealing his lips together as tightly as he could to stop any chuckles of his own from coming through. 

As much as he didn’t like the idea of getting in trouble with Professor Sharp, he couldn’t help but want to be in Garreth’s position. He wanted to be the one that made you laugh like that. He wanted to be the one who’s arm you playfully smacked. He wanted to be your partner in crime.

You made him feel a levity he hadn’t felt since Anne got cursed. Something about you drew him in and he found himself at ease whenever you were around. At first he didn’t like it, convinced himself you made him lose focus on finding a cure for his sister. But after everything you’d done so far to help him, realizing his sister had just as much fun around you as he did, and witnessing how willing you were to go into the unknown, he realized you were progressing things more than anything.

“Let’s be grateful it was only dittany leaves you added, Mr. Weasley.” Professor Sharp reprimanded, then turned to make his way back to his desk. “Well, with that rather exciting end to class, you’re all dismissed.”

As everyone made their way out of class, you and Garreth stayed behind to clean up the mess he caused.

Sebastian kept an eye on you in his peripheral vision as he and Natty gathered their robes and slipped them back on. He took this chance to grab yours and bring them over.

“Aw thanks, Sebastian. You shouldn’t have, I really appreciate it.” Garreth wisecracked as you and him were scrubbing the table.

“Shut up, Weasley.” Sebastian said with a chuckle, handing him his robes, then held up your robes so he could help you into them.

Your scrubbing slowed to a stop and a blush creeped up your neck. Sebastian had never done anything like this before. You tried to calm yourself as you turned and let him help you get your robes on. 

Shrugging them on, you turned and thanked him. You met his expectant gaze and, after a moment, realized he was waiting for you to finish up so you could walk to your next class together. “Oh, um... you may have to go on without me. It might take us a while to finish up here.” 

You also needed a second to yourself to breathe because Sebastian’s gesture had thrown you for a loop. He needed to be careful doing things like that, because you’d look too much into it and convince yourself he liked you back. The thought of burdening him with your feelings seemed so selfish. He had a cursed sister to help, he didn’t need some new Hogwarts student pining for him and making his life more complicated. He was already taking time out of his day to help you catch up on spells, no way you could ask any more of him.

Sebastian couldn’t help but feel disappointed, and it showed on his face. “Alright.” He rocked back and forth on his feet awkwardly. “I suppose I’ll... catch up with Ominis and see you in charms then?”

You gave him a smile and simple nod of your head. “See you there.”

He forced a smile back then slowly made his way out of the potions classroom, kicking the dirt at his feet as he went.

You got back to cleaning with Garreth, who was staring after Sebastian. Then he looked to you, “Well, that was downright awkward.”

You could only cringe. “Sorry, Garreth.”

“No need to apologize to me. It was Sebastian’s heart you broke back there, not - ow!” He was cut off when your elbow jammed into his ribs. 

“Shut up and help me clean.” Deep down you were hoping it was true that Sebastian was disappointed he couldn’t walk with you to class. You wanted to live in that fantasy even just a little. But, realistically, he probably wanted to update you on what he found in Salazar Slytherin’s spell book since he couldn’t speak about it with Ominis.

The blush made its way back when you began to think about his forearm muscles flexing as he was rolling out his and Natty’s dugbog tongue. You were extra thankful you partnered up with Garreth, there was no pressure and he had made it fun. If you had partnered with Sebastian, you would have been a bumbling mess, unable to focus on the assignment. Probably would have had to reread the ingredients a few times over even though there were only three items. Merlin’s beard, you were hopeless.

Lately, it had been difficult for you to be around Sebastian. He had been making you so nervous, it was beginning to get frustrating. You wish you could go back to how it was when you first met. You were so overwhelmed trying to catch up with the other fifth years, you couldn’t overthink things when you were together even if you wanted to. But you’ve been getting the hang of things and excelling in your coursework, wielding magic became second nature. You didn’t need to put all your focus on classes anymore, so that freed up a lot of room in your mind for Sebastian.

With a defeated sigh, you and Garreth finished cleaning up your potions station. You grabbed your books and waved goodbye. As soon as you left the classroom, you looked up to see Sebastian leaning against the wall. He had decided to wait for you after all.

He pushed up off the wall and walked up to you, a smile spreading across your face. He took the quickest glance at your lips, catching himself before he could linger. Without warning, he grabbed your books and began walking away.

“Shall we?” He asked over his shoulder.

You pursed your lips as you watched him. Surely nothing to get your hopes up over, right? Right, surely nothing. Then you moved to join his side.

[slvtforfiction]

maybe a jake fluff where the reader suffers with insomnia ? currently needed as i’m requesting this at nearly 6am 😍😍😍

Insomnia

☆ Jake Webber X Reader

☆ Fluff

☆ I also suffer w insomnia,currently writing this at three am,I’m tired as fuck and haven’t slept for 2 days,I’m chilling

☆ Sorry it’s short

☆ If you are going to request: please check at the pinned post if requests are open,otherwise I will delete your requests which I have already been doing

☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers! (They recently released a new star version,that’s my new divider,what do you think? :))

Masterlist | Pinned Post

Here I was.

02:00.

The clock ticked past incredibly fast and left me wondering what to do. Jake,my boyfriend,had gone to sleep a while ago after video editing and some dinner.

As I sat in the kitchen,my headphones blaring music and my pajamas loosely hanging off my form I wanted nothing more than to be able to go to sleep,next to my boyfriend.

But I couldn’t,I wasn’t tired even after not having slept the previous day. I had convinced myself that staying up and working out today would tire me down but it almost had the opposite effect.

As I sat on the kitchen island I heard a creek of the floorboards upstairs and quickly panicked,I jumped off the kitchen island and slowly began walking upstairs.

Although I was not met with an intruder,quite the opposite; my tired boyfriend.

“Come to bed love.” He muttered through a tired voice whilst he rubbed his eyes. “Can’t sleep.” I mumbled and he shook his head as he made grabby hands towards me.

I slowly walked towards him before he quickly enveloped me into a hug, “Come to bed n’ cuddle with me?” He asked and I giggled.

He kept his eyes shut as he adjusted to the light but we quickly navigated our way back to the bedroom.

“Miss havin’ you next t’ me.” He mumbled as we got into bed,quickly pulling the covers over ourselves as I cuddle up to his chest,slinging his arm around my back and gently rubbing patterned circles into my waist.

“Could get used t’ this if you weren’t always awake.” He laughed to himself and I smiled.

I slowly closed my eyes,knowing I wouldn’t get to sleep that easily but I knew I was wrong when I opened my eyes at 1pm the next day,Jake long gone.

I looked down at the bedside table to see a sticky note,

Enjoy your sleep,don’t want to wake you from a slumber you clearly need,love you,call me if you need anything <3

[querenciasturniolo]

can you do matt & reader who has ocd? (like actual ocd)

i have clinical ocd and i never see any fics ab it☹️☹️

here ⮕ m.s.

word count: 967

warnings: she/her pronouns, hinting of intrusive thoughts, anxious thoughts, crying, angst, comfort, obsessive compulsive behaviors

summary: request

a/n: as someone who doesn’t have clinical ocd, i did a LOT of research before writing this, and i’m still not sure about it. if anything is incorrectly represented, and i mean ANYTHING, please let me know and i will try my best to fix it 💓

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

Your hands felt like they were on fire, but you kept them under the scalding water.

You timed yourself, but each time limit didn’t feel right, so you kept going. You’d been at the sink for over ten minutes, and you couldn’t help but feel a slight relief when the hot water began to run out. Matt was going to be there any minute, and you needed to pull yourself together so he didn’t see this. The moment the knock on the door sounded through your apartment, you felt your body tense.

“Fuck.” You whispered, pulling your hands from the sink forcefully and shutting off the water. Drying your hands felt wrong, too soon, bad, catastrophic, but you needed to let Matt in. You tried convincing yourself you were okay, that you not finishing your routine was fine, but every other thought in your head was telling you otherwise. You couldn’t pull yourself from in front of the sink, every fiber in your being telling you that if you moved from this spot before you finished washing your hands, something bad was going to happen.

You groaned, your hands immediately going to your hair, tugging slightly as you flipped the sink back on and began your scrubbing again. “It’s unlocked!” You said, hoping he couldn’t hear the stress in your voice. Your eyes were locked on your hands, wincing slightly at the feeling of the soap getting into the cracked skin. You felt dirty and wrong, and you couldn’t stop until your hands were clean.

“There’s my girl.” Matt said, pressing a kiss to the back of your head and resting his chin on your shoulder. You were on high alert, even Matt’s sweet gesture feeling like too much. You didn’t speak, your hands still moving at their quick pace under the cooling water. He was quiet, but you could feel how tense he was against you.

You couldn’t stop, not yet. It wasn’t the right time, just a little longer and everything would be okay. Matt wrapped his hands around your middle, resting himself against your back. He was silent, no doubt staring down at your movements and wondering what the fuck was going on. You winced, trying to shake every negative and painful thought out of your head. He didn’t know what you were doing, you tried convincing yourself. You could explain afterwards and everything will be fine.

He doesn’t understand.

He won’t understand.

He’ll leave when he finds out what’s wrong with you.

He won’t be able to handle this.

He couldn’t love you when you were like this.

He wouldn’t understand.

Tears stung your eyes before you could even register you were crying, a choked sob leaving your lips. You shut off the water, relief filling your body as you grabbed the towel and dried your hands, still shaking your head and trying to ward off any more thoughts that could have you spiraling.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Matt finally spoke, turning you around to face him. His eyes were sharp with concern, the blue of his iris’ practically glimmering as he examined your face closely. You were trying to contain your sob, but the strained whine leaving your lips didn’t help anything.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to see that.” You said, the knot in your throat not loosening in the slightest when you swallowed. “I-I understand if you want to leave.”

Matt’s brows furrowed as he pulled you into his chest, holding you to him tightly as you sobbed into his shoulder. “What are you talking about? Why would I leave?” He asked, his voice sounding almost broken.

You sniffed and cleared your throat, feeling as though you were suffocating against him. You didn’t pull away though, as much as you wanted to. “Something is wrong with me. Sometimes, I get these urges. I have to follow through with them, or else I’m convinced something catastrophic will happen.” You said, finally pulling away from Matt and lifting your hands up to show him. You knew what it was, you’d gotten your diagnosis months ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

Realization dawned on him as his eyes slowly scanned the dry, cracked and bleeding skin of your hands, another choked sob leaving your lips. “I couldn’t stop, I wouldn’t let myself.” You whispered, Matt’s eyes meeting yours again. “That’s why I said I understand if you want to leave…you couldn’t love me when I’m like this.” You finished, your voice raw and broken.

You felt so lost. You couldn’t stop these urges, and now, the person you loved most in the world saw you at your lowest. Matt shook his head, his hands cupping your cheeks lightly and guiding your gaze to his eyes. His eyelashes were wet, as though he was holding himself together for your sake.

“Nothing, not even this, could ever make me leave. I love you, Y/n. I may not understand it fully, but I’m willing to learn.” He said, your heart pounding in your chest.

He’s lying.

He doesn’t mean it.

He feels bad for you.

It’s just pity.

You winced, closing your eyes tightly and trying to force yourself to look on the bright side. Matt’s thumbs were caressing your cheeks, his touch grounding you ever so slightly as you repeated the words he’d said before in your head, trying desperately to drown out everything else that was screaming through your mind. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before he spoke again, pulling you into his chest and holding you for what felt like centuries.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m here.”

You weren’t cured, his touch and his words couldn’t fix this. But knowing that he wasn’t planning on leaving gave you hope that maybe what he was saying was true.

tags: @strniolo , @ssturniolo , @thetriplets3 , @stvrni0lo , @gabbylovesreading , @dwntwn-strnlo , @tylerscreat0r , @toyourloves , @lvrsparadise , @tuktuk34 , @angelcake-222

[ethereal-writes]

Obey Me! Brothers at the nail salon (Ft. GN!MC)

Warnings: None!

A/N: Hey y'all! I know it's been a super, super long time since I've posted anything substantial. But a couple nights ago, I randomly got motivation to write and managed to complete the whole thing in one go. So, here we go!

As always, if I've missed a warning please let me know!

-Ethereal (✿◡‿◡)

Scenario: You convince one of the demon brothers to accompany you to the nail salon.

Lucifer:

Lucifer wears gloves most of the time, so he doesn't really see the point at first.

(Honestly, he probably wouldn't get them painted regularly at all if it wasn't Asmo doing it. He'd never tell, but Asmo painting his nails is Lucifer's favorite bonding time with his little brother.)

But, you really wanted to go get your nails done at the salon, and he figured since he was there anyway he might as well.

Lucifer is absolutely capable of functioning with long nails, and has done so in the past when attending dinners with Queen Rose.

However, just because he can doesn't means he wants to. And it's more comfortable to keep shorter nails while wearing gloves, anyway. He'd go with a short, round nail.

He wouldn't go with anything overtly flashy or glittery. I think he'd go with something simple but elegant, like this.

(Credit: @/Poshmark on Pinterest)

Mammon:

Mammon has gotten his nails done a couple times at the salon before, but usually it's because the company he's modeling for wants him to, and he has to get them done the way the company asks him to.

He never goes otherwise, since they can be pricey and Asmo offers to do it for free.

But since you really wanted to go, he wasn't going to pass up on the chance to get his done too.

Now that he has free reign on what kind of design he gets, he goes all out.

He gets incredibly long stilleto nails (and greatly underestimated how hard they are to get used to).

And of course, he'd get something super flashy with a lot of gold, silver, jewels, chains, pretty much whatever the salon was offering.

His would end up looking something like this.

(Credit: @/poupie.nails on Instagram (found on pinterest))

Leviathan:

Levi has yet to get his nails done professionally done, mostly because he is not a fan of strangers touching him.

You insisted he didn't need to do this if he wasn't comfortable with it, but he really did want to do this with you.

Levi has had long nails before, but they've always been press-ons that he would wear for conventions and then take off at the end of the day.

Having long nails for weeks? Yeah, he'll pass. Gaming on a keyboard will be near impossible. He ends up with short, round nails.

He also just gets regular polish that he can take off later at home, instead of going back to get it buffed off.

That being said, I still think he'd want something cool. He ends up with some really cool crackle polish.

(Credit: @/ND Nails Supply on Pinterest)

Satan:

Satan hasn't yet been to a nail salon. Like the others, he relies on Asmo to keep his nails out of a state of disaster.

Honestly, I don't think he cares too too much about his nails, as long as they arent filthy and the polish isn't horribly chipped.

As a result, he hasn't really done much experimenting with different colours or designs (despite Asmo's begging).

You suggest this time he gets something different.

He doesn't.

He ends up with some sage green matte nails, slightly longer than his fingertips.

(Credit: @/Prada & Pearls on Pinterest)

But! While he's there, he catches sight of someone with really cute nail art.

He decides to add a little cat, one on each hand. Likely on his thumb, so he can see them while he's holding a book.

I imagine he'd pick a cat design similar to one of these.

(Credit: @/eBay on Pinterest)

Asmodeus:

Unsuprisingly, he's the one who goes to the nail salon the most often.

He could do his own nails if he wanted to (and often does), but he really loves being pampered so he goes quite often.

He is the most likely to expiriment with different styles and colours, but since pink and green are his favorite colours, those are his go-to.

He usually gets very long, stilletto nails and can function perfectly fine with them.

He would definitely want something super intricate and detailed.

He also has the the most patience to sit still for a long manicure, so...y'all are gonna be there a long time.

He'd end up with something like this.

(Credit: @/Etsy on Pinterest)

Beelzebub:

Beel always keeps his nails short.

He does a lot of sports and weight lifting, and he doesn't find long nails easy to work with at all.

He also probably wouldn't want to get anything super fancy either.

See, there's a reason he always gets Asmo to do them, and it's because of how often Beel needs them touched up or redone.

Between getting chipped during his workouts, and the amount of food stains he gets on them, they just don't stay nice for too long.

He also lowkey thinks it's a waste of money he could be spending on food instead (but he'd never tell you that).

Plus, he just doesn't wanna ruin the nail tech's art so soon after they finished. He'd feel bad.

He just gets regular orange polish and a clear top coat.

(Credit: @/Prada & Pearls on Pinterest)

Belphegor:

Belphie also likes having relatively short nails. Tip of the finger, max.

They're easier for day to day , and he doesn't risk accidentally scratching himself (or any cuddle partners) during his sleep.

He avoids rhinestones for the same reason. Slightly too scratchy for his tastes.

That being said, he isn't opposed to a little sparkle. Or even a lot of sparkle.

He would get something dark blue and glittery, because it reminds him of the starts.

(Credit: @/clownprincess on Pinterest)

[tohwitchesduels]

GO WITCHES DUELS! - First Round

And we're back for good people! Now that I have a summer break I can finally properly proceed with the tournament. No more hiatuses for now (except for a tiny one which should last a week but you won't even notice). This shall be a new master post for now, but here's the link to the old one for those who are still confused about what this tournament is. The bracket of the tournament is ready and the battles have been decided, so here you go, folks!

The bracket features the main matches that decide who will advance to the next round, but there shall be battles between that are not part of this bracket, for now, let's proceed with the battles of the first round. The following matchups shall be:

Amity Blight vs Emira Blight - Winner: Amity Blight

Edric Blight vs Willow Park - Winner: Willow Park

Jerbo vs Viney - Winner: Viney

Boscha vs Gavin Deamonne - Winner: Boscha

Angmar vs Gus Porter - Winner: Gus Porter

Luz Noceda vs Skara - Winner: Luz Noceda

Barcus vs Hunter the Golden Guard - Winner: Hunter

Bria vs Matt Tholomule - Winner: Bria

The Fierce Battle Royale

A piece of Trivia: All match-ups were randomized except for the battles between Amity and Emira, and Willow and Edric. Originally Amity and Willow were to fight in the first round but I decided to change it. Since I considered the first round to be just qualifying for the top 8, I thought it would be unjust if either Amity or Willow would lose this early despite their skill. So I swapped them with the twins so the match-ups like Amity vs Willow, Edric vs Emira, Willow vs Emira, or Amity vs Edric can actually feel earned instead of given.

As you may or may not remember, the first round is composed of qualifying matches on who gets advanced to the second round. After that is finished, all the losers will participate in the battle Royale to decide who's the strongest. I did say that the winner of the Battle Royale may not advance further in the tournament, but I may change my mind about it if you convince me to give them a shot. The battles shall include a poll first to vote and propaganda under the cut on both battlers. However some participants have insanely long lists of capabilities, so this shall also be a Masterpost not just to official and unofficial matchups of the first round (the second round will get its own post, granted it would be an updated version of this one) but also all the links to the pages of all the participants and what they're capable of. Of course, the posts about battlers' capabilities may also feature links if they're too big. But anyway, here you go folks, meet your champions and place your bets

Amity Blight

August "Gus" Porter

Hunter The Golden Guard

Luz Noceda

Willow Park

The Blight Twins

The Detention Track

The Glandus Kids

The Mean Kids

I shall also now bring back the ask box in case you still have any questions about the bracket and I will edit this post to both add missing links + new unofficial battles that are still part of the first round, like some request battles between the losers of the first round or ties and rearranged battles. Only one can remain after all, so in case there are draws I will ensure to settle the score properly

(But everyone here willingly participated in this tournament remember so don't make ties on purpose or you'll be banished to the shadow realm ~ sincerely, the Collector).

DISCLAIMER: Do not vote under the pretext of liking some characters more, we're voting based on who is a better battler, not a more liked character. Otherwise off with your head!

Invitations - I'm bringing those back so no one here will miss the updates.

@casualartisandeer @wren-writes-things @the-godofchaos-himself @violet-prism-creatively @watery-melon-baller

@thescarletdaffodil @akmonasyrk @lapluieellepleut @damianwaynelives @crushpunchh

@impact801 @evermorecatra @rosetyler42 @memory-overload @cwolfnerakagnome

@branmuffins22 @zyrafowe-sny @metalinjector95 @michaela-artist @goingtohellwithyou

@iheartleopards @thatwierdquietkidthatdraws @sophiesophsofia @tbonner2 @amity297

@itslilacmoon @egqwhites @fabseg-reader @blackblooms @allpplareequal

@ch3rrymotel666 @yourlastbraincell64 @amorphousprimordia @johannepetereric @21ack

@daisyheadmaizy @kathythepirateking @the-owl-house-blorbo-brawl

[sesamestreep]

30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 6

Write about a blackout (from this list) ➸ totally cheating once again and using this as a one-word prompt instead of probably how it was intended??? oh well. have some canon-verse angst and I’m sorry…

“Do you want to know the stupidest part?”

Foggy looks over at Matt, who’s hunched over his drink like someone might steal it from him. Then again, the fake IDs that got them into this bar were honestly not the highest quality, so it’s not an entirely baseless fear.

“Granted you’ve told me like three details total about what happened between you and Elektra, I will take any additional information you want to divulge, stupid or otherwise.”

Matt blinks at him with hollow eyes. “You just said a lot of words to me.”

Foggy sighs. “What’s the stupidest part, Matt?”

“I thought—it’s just—you’re going to think I’m a moron.”

“I won’t,” Foggy says, grabbing his shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. “I think you’re extremely smart, buddy. You might be the smartest person I know, okay? Just tell me. I promise I won’t judge.”

Matt looks so utterly fragile and lost in that moment that Foggy honestly doesn’t want to hear what’s going to come out of his mouth next, because he just knows it will break his heart. It’s been hard seeing Matt in such bad shape and to know almost nothing about what happened between him and his girlfriend after he’d disappeared with her for two weeks. Foggy had been a wreck about it, beside himself with worry and yet without a legitimate reason to excuse himself from classes and responsibilities, so he’d walked around for those two weeks like a shell, keeping up appearances, until Matt came back. His relief at his reappearance was quickly replaced by a new kind of worry, when he saw how miserable and unstable Matt was in the wake of…whatever happened. Matt still couldn’t be induced by any means to give Foggy a straight answer on that count.

“I thought I was going to marry her,” Matt says, quietly. If Foggy hadn’t been actively trying to hear him, that statement would have been lost to the noise of the bar.

“That’s not stupid at all,” Foggy says, allowing the hand on Matt’s shoulder to slip over to rub his back between his shoulder blades.

“I thought she was my soulmate,” Matt adds, with some vitriol, in the direction of his drink, like he wants to spit the words in there to drown them.

“She wasn’t,” Foggy replies, firmly, because it seems like the right thing to say up until Matt’s face crumples.

“I think she was,” he says, miserably, as he buries his face in his hands. “I think she was and she left anyway and that’s it for me.”

“I don’t—hey, listen, Matt,” Foggy says, shifting his chair over so he can wrap his arms around Matt’s shoulders completely. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I said she—I didn’t know her that well. Maybe she was your soulmate. I don’t know! I’m not convinced that’s anything but a nice story we like to tell ourselves to make life more bearable or to impose meaning on random events.”

“This pep talk sucks,” Matt says, in the vicinity of Foggy’s collar. Foggy can feel his breath on his neck and it’s weird but not enough to get him to move away.

“Sorry. What I mean to say is, if soulmates are real, and Elektra was yours, then it’s not over yet. Maybe you’ll meet again someday.”

“I hope not,” Matt says, darkly.

Foggy resists the urge to roll his eyes at yet another vague but still concerning allusion to this terrible breakup. He’s trying to be sympathetic but Matt’s whole Catholic guilt lone wolf shit does test him sometimes, if he’s being honest. Still, one look at Matt’s pale, sorrowful face in the neon lights of this dive bar is enough to remind Foggy what they’re doing here.

“I think it’s much more likely that, if we have soulmates at all, we probably get more than one,” Foggy continues, hoping that if he just muses vaguely enough, he’ll stumble on something that makes Matt feel better. “So, you’ll get another chance to—”

“You mean like you and me?” Matt asks, and Foggy’s brain does a full factory reset as he tries to parse that question. He can’t possibly mean…

“Oh, like—yeah, you and me and, well, everybody could have more than one soulmate. Exactly.”

“No, that’s not—” Matt shakes his head, which, given his current position, is functionally just nuzzling his face into Foggy’s neck. “I mean, how you and me are soulmates. Kind of.”

“You and me?” Foggy asks, casually despite not feeling casual at all. “You think so?”

“You’re—yeah. I mean, you’re basically—you’re family to me but…also more than that. If that makes sense.”

It doesn’t and Foggy’s been holding himself back from drinking too much tonight because he wants to be able to get Matt home safely, but he does feel like he might throw up on this table right now. He tucked away the part of him that found Matt attractive somewhere deep and secret and well-fortified in his soul a long time ago, in the interest of not fucking things up with his best friend in the entire world, and he certainly can’t trust anything Matt says now when he’s drunk and lonely and heartbroken. But he’s never loved anyone as completely as he loves Matt and it’s such a pathetic, hopeless situation that he doesn’t let himself think about it except on really special occasions when he wants to feel bad.

“I’m not sure anybody has ever loved me as much as you do,” Matt says, like it’s not a crazy thing to say, here in a shitty bar near campus, after a breakup with his girlfriend, to someone he’s never even kissed.

“I doubt that,” Foggy says, even as he, selfishly, wants to claim it, even as he knows it to be true. “You’re very lovable.”

“We should get married.”

Foggy laughs, because what else can he do, under the circumstances. “Now? It’s pretty late. The courthouse won’t even be open.”

“No, I mean, we should get married someday,” Matt says, petulant like Foggy’s the one being ridiculous here for not following his thought process. “When we’re older. If we haven’t met anybody else.”

That last condition is enough to break Foggy’s heart all over again, but he does an admirable job hiding it, he thinks. Matt’s drunk and very distracted, and more importantly doesn’t know anything about how Foggy feels, really, despite his proclamations on the subject a moment ago, so it feels safe to assume he won’t notice any signs of disappointment or hurt in this split second before Foggy swallows those feelings and pretends to be his usual upbeat self. That’s who Matt really needs right now, and so that’s who he’ll be.

“How much older?” Foggy asks.

“Old,” Matt says. “Like, thirty.”

“Okay,” Foggy nods, already able to find this funny. Matt won’t still be single by the time they’re both thirty. He’ll be married by the time they graduate law school, most likely, so it won’t be an issue. Foggy doesn’t like to think about it, but he knows it’s true.

“You’ll do it?”

“Maybe,” Foggy says. “Ask me again when you’re not blackout drunk.”

“I’m fine,” Matt objects. “I’m not blackout. Not even close.”

“Then we can pick this conversation up in the morning, no problem!”

Matt nods, drunkenly. “Absolutely.”

Matt doesn’t bring it up in the morning, of course. Foggy never really expected he would, either, and doesn’t permit himself to be disappointed about it, no matter how much he would like to.

[asturniolos]

you too - matt s.

chapter 2 ; you going up?

chapter 1

chapter 3

chapter 4

warnings - just slight swearing !

9:27am

".. and be prepared for friday's lecture; your study on creative expression in poetry. your completed assignments for this will be expected.."

my professor's voice beaming through the lecture hall is muffled by the sound of bolder feelings by the ivy playing in my airpods as i stand up from my seat, grab my bag, and neatly place my things in it. i let out an exhausted sigh and make my way out of the lecture hall, followed by a few other students heading to various other facilities. i glance out of the huge windows of the building i'm in and feel my mood instantly improve at the sight of the heavy rainfall hitting the concrete like bullets. i love winter.

as i approach the stairs leading to the bottom floor of the university, my phone vibrates in my pocket.

annie!🧸 : u ready to be picked up? i'm out front!!

my eyes light up as i remember the coffee date annie and i had planned.

i unlock my phone as i walk and begin typing my response when suddenly i feel a hard shove to my side. my bag slips off my arm and lands at my feet, leaving my textbooks and macbook scattered on the floor in front of me.

i hear a gasp followed by a warm, masculine voice, "holy shit i'm so sorry- are you alright?"

i go to pause my music but realise it has already stopped playing. my jaw drops as i look at the ground and see my phone. my shattered phone.

"what the hell? watch where you're walking!"

i step forward and start gathering my things off the floor and placing them back into my bag, cheeks burning red with anger and embarrassment. i feel a hand place itself on my shoulder.

"fuck i'm so sorry. here, let me help you."

"no, it's fine i've got it.", i reply, shrugging the hand off of me in annoyance.

regardless, the boy bends down and begins grabbing my notebook and pencil case which landed next to him. he passes them to me, apologising a few more times.

"i'm so sorry about your phone. i promise i'll pay to get it fixed, just give me your number and i'll sort it out. is that alright?"

i so desperately want to yell at him for running into me, but his considerate offer convinces me otherwise. i pull my bag back over my shoulder and tuck my thick hair behind my ears. glancing up at him and meeting his eyes for the first time, his slightly wavy brown hair falls perfectly as he brings a hand up to his face and pushes it out of his eyes. he scratches the back of his head while waiting for a response from me.

"um.. yeah that's fine. thanks."

i grab a pen from my bag and tear a piece of paper from my notebook to write my phone number down. i pass the paper to him when i'm finished and watch him read it, fold it in half, and place it in the front pocket of his blue hoodie. i take a deep breath in to calm my nerves and can't help but notice the strong scent of aftershave coming from him. i glance back up at his freshly-shaved face and feel my cheeks glow pink. i redirect my eyes to the floor in an attempt at distracting myself from how attractive he is all of a sudden.

"you going up?", he asks, motioning to the stairs above us.

"down, actually.", i reply.

"you're blushing."

"i am?"

"mhm."

he chuckles.

"let me carry your bag for you.", he asks, the sentence coming across more as a statement than a question.

"it's fine really, you don't have to-"

he cuts me off by reaching for my shoulder and taking my bag from me.

"it's the least i can do."

he grins. i think about taking the bag back from him and walking to annie's car alone but figure it would give me an excuse to walk with him for another few minutes. as we walk, i can't help but stare at the veins covering his hands, completely losing track of the conversation. before i know it he's taking my bag off of his shoulder and handing it to me at the doorway.

"i'll give you a call when my lectures over. should be about an hour or two.", he states, taking his phone out of his pocket and checking the time.

"what are you studying?", i ask.

"filmmaking. what about you?", he replies.

filmmaking. oh my god. could he be the guy annie was telling me about?

"english literature."

"oh so like.. shakespeare and shit?"

i lightly chuckle at his stupid response, trying to come up with another question to find out more about him.

"yeah, i guess you could say that. is this your first year here?"

if he says yes i swear-

"yeah actually, i just moved here from boston with my brothers."

i pause.

"brothers?"

"yeah. i'm a triplet."

no. way.

"my names matt.", he continues, "what's yours?"

"y/n. nice to meet you, matt."

[teleghostttales]

Friction

Summer Camp, 2014. I was about twelve years old at the time, and having the time of my life. Tromping through the woods, swimming, and playing games. It was a welcome reprieve in a life where I didn’t otherwise get to do much, living in the middle of nowhere and all. It was on a leadership nature hike when they initially found it. It was on an illicit ‘were not technically supposed to go on these trails’ hike when they showed it to us. I don’t remember much before the year 2016, but this is something I remember with perfect clarity.

Deep in the woods behind the summer camp was a single, solitary camper trailer. A clear mark of humanity’s touch on the otherwise pristine forest. It was dilapidated, but it was lived in somewhat recently. Months ago, rather than years based on how dust had collected inside. At least what dust we could see through the spider-web-cracked windows. We didn’t go in. The trip we had taken was already enough to get the leaders in trouble, the last thing they needed was some kid to fall through the floor of the trailer and break an ankle. A classic summer camp thing of liability being an ever-looming threat, even if avoidance of it is still often shirked. 

A good preface for the next part of this story is that I’ve always been a flighty kid. Terrified of everything, fictional or factual. In the fifth grade, my class read The Invention of Hugo Cabret. My fifth-grade teacher was a creative guy, who put together a whole puzzle for us to solve before we started the novel. Everyone loved it. Everyone except for me. I was positively haunted by one set of images included among the others. An illustration of a train crash, and an illustration of a writing automaton. In my head, I formed this narrative that somehow the crashed train and the automaton were connected. That the automaton was some force of evil that had caused it. That the automaton would come for me next. I… had a hard time drawing the line between fiction and reality. I was gullible. You could tell me something was real and I’d hang rapt on every word. I’d believe more than anything. The point of this aside is to say that it got to the point where I was terrified in my own house. I was convinced the automaton had found its way inside. That it was lying in wait for me. That it was going to kill me. This came to a head when my mother asked me to get a can of diced tomatoes out of the pantry. The pantry that connected to the basement. The basement that I was now convinced the automaton had hidden itself away in. I freaked out. Full sobbing panic attack in the kitchen, absolutely refusing to go into the pantry while tearfully recounting to my mother why I couldn’t go in to get the tomatoes. She, immediately, called my teacher and got him to tell me that it wasn’t real. The mystery was just a puzzle he had put together. There was no automaton. There was no train crash. I was safe.

Without that phone call, I would’ve still believed everything my mind had conjured up, every little bit of stress that had manifested itself over the month the project had been introduced. Belief can be a very, very powerful thing.

After letting us poke around the trailer for a bit longer, we made the trek back to camp. It was the night of the sleepout. You could either pick to truly sleep under the stars or on the cement floor of the lodge. I picked the cement floor. I was terrified of being fully exposed outside, wholly convinced that something would come out of the woods and get me. What happened next certainly didn’t help. One of the leaders from the trailer excursion, I think his name was Matt, made his way to the middle of the lodge. Standing amongst the sleeping bags and blanket piles, he told everyone to come in close. Because we picked the lodge, we got something special. A scary story. A true story. One about the trailer, deep in the backwoods, and what the owner of it had done. 

The story never starts with the monster though. This one started with three boys, intent on pranking the girl's side of the camp with some cockamamie scheme. The plan they hatched was simple. There was a well-known patch of land with a small gorge on it, two sheer walls of clay that led down to a stream. They’d travel to it that night, buckets stolen from the maintenance shed in hand, and collect up as much clay as they could carry.  Then, they’d use it to draw and write on the walls of the girl's cabins. How they expected to get away with it and not get saddled with hosing down the siding was beyond me, but that wasn’t the point of the story. In the dead of night, the trio’s plan was put into motion. As soon as their counsellors were asleep they snuck out the door, grabbed the buckets they had stashed behind the cabin, and began their trek out into the dark. Any manner of things could’ve happened in the story then. Attacked by some kind of creature, abducted by aliens, or put under some kind of evil spell, my imagination went wild trying to think of what would happen to them. The answer, in the end, was much simpler. 

They made it safely to their final destination, filling the buckets with clay and navigating down the bank of the stream. 

“What they didn’t know,” Matt said, voice dripping with suspense, “Was that they were a stone’s throw from the trailer. It was a full moon out, and that meant the old man would be home, and there was nothing the old man hated more than trespassers.”

The story continued, the boys growing closer and closer to the trailer, closer and closer to the old man, closer and closer to whatever threat he posed. Closer, until one of them spotted the flickering of a bonfire through the trees. One of the three silently made a decision. Climbing up the steep walls of the bank, he began to journey closer to the flames, intent on investigating their cause. As he reached a small clearing through the trees, he quickly spotted three things in the dark. The campfire he had already seen glimpses of, the dilapidated camper trailer, and finally an old man sitting on a log, a shotgun propped up beside him. The boy stepped closer, trying to see more clearly, but didn’t pay enough attention to where his feet landed. As his boot crushed down, a twig snapped in two.

“WHO GOES THERE!” Bellowed Matt in the best approximation of a crazy old man voice he could muster. “I’LL KILL YOU, I’LL SHOOT YOU DEAD!”

As silly as it is now in my head, I know as a kid I was terrified. The only thing I was scared of more than ghosts, ghouls, or murderers in the night, was loud noises. Even worse, I had an acute fear of jumpscares, so having Matt jump up with such fervour, shouting as loud as he could muster, put a bit of a squeeze on my heart.

The boy ran, of course, the old man in hot pursuit. As he slid down the muddy, clay bank he screamed at the others to run. Gunshots ran out behind them as they sprinted down the creek bank and up into the woods, thundering through the trees as fast as their legs would carry them. It didn’t feel like enough. The further they ran, the closer it felt like the gunshots were behind them. One of them swore a pellet whizzed past his head. Regardless, they kept running, the old man hooting and hollering as his pursuit continued. After what felt like an eternity, the trio broke through the trees, sprinting across the open field to their cabin. They turned for a moment, looking back as their muddy feet hit the porch, watching the treeline for any sign of movement. They didn’t see anything. The old man was gone.

But… so was their friend. What they had thought had been their trio escaping through the woods had at some point become a duo instead. One of them was missing. Far too terrified to do anything, and far too concerned about getting punished, the two boys made their way inside, locking the door behind them. Surely, he would turn up. Surely, everything would be fine. As the two drifted off to sleep, someone broke through the treeline. Someone made their way up onto the porch. Someone turned the knob of the only cabin with a broken lock in the camp. Someone stepped inside, grinning madly in the dark. The remaining duo were none the wiser.

When the morning came, the disaster was realized. When it all became real. Painted across the front of the cabin in the distinct crimson and blood was one distinct phrase. Matt cleared his throat, leaning in close, reciting it as barely a whisper. “Trespassers will be shot.”

That was where the story ended. Matt grinned at us all in the well-lit lodge, cracking his knuckles as he carefully navigated the mess of things spread across the floor. Slyly, he glanced around the room. “I hope none of you are planning on sneaking out tonight. It’s a full moon. The old man could be anywhere.”

It would be one thing if it was just the story. If I had believed that and been told it was only a tall tale. But I had seen the trailer. That cemented it as irrevocably true to me. That terrified me. I told the counsellors I was scared by the story, and all they could offer was insistence it wasn’t true, but my mind had already been made up. The old man was real. The old man was coming to get me.

Regardless, I tried to fall asleep. The doors to the lodge were left open, a measure in case of emergency so people wouldn’t need to fumble for a handle in the dark, or so that anyone who couldn’t sleep outside could migrate in or vice versa. I would not go outside. As soon as I got into my sleeping bag, I wouldn’t move a muscle. I was petrified, eyes screwed shut as I prayed to god that whatever the old man was up to had nothing to do with the campgrounds.

And then the clinking started. The small, tinny sound of metal tapping against metal. Clink. Clink. Clink. Over and over again, each noise, no matter how small, sent me into a new wave of terror. My brain quickly conjured a terrifying explanation. It was a taunt. It was the old man tapping the barrel of his shotgun against the flagpole. It was the old man telling me I was next. Telling me that I, like any other trespasser, would be shot.

I don’t know how long I laid awake, eyes shut tight as I tried to will myself to sleep despite my intense, all-consuming fear of what I was convinced was just outside the lodge. Eventually, I did fall asleep, and, as was likely expected, nothing happened. I woke up fine. No words were written on the walls in blood. No old man had come to shoot me in the night. I even figured out the source of the clinking, it was the hook for the flag not properly tied down, smacking against the flagpole every time the wind gusted. Everything pointed to the old man being a farce, and yet… my mind held on. Convinced me I had simply gotten lucky. Every year I went to the camp I was terrified, but… every year that terror reduced. It was around 2018 when I became a leader myself, allowed on all the trips banned for campers, joining in on all the treks and events in the night. I had almost entirely forgotten about the old man. I had certainly stopped believing in him at that point. But… things don’t stay forgotten for long, and one afternoon when we were off-duty, we navigated the woods to the trailer. This time, I got the chance to step inside.

It was more dilapidated than I remembered it, but at the same time… significantly more innocuous. It was just an abandoned trailer full of someone’s discarded junk, something only shown more as I got the chance to explore the insides myself. Many stories have been told about the place over the years. It was the base of a satanic cult. It was the hideaway of a serial killer. It was the den of the old man. They had found briefcases of human skin, torture implements, or other signs of nefarious deeds. But… none of that was real to me anymore, especially not after seeing it in all its lack of glory. It was simply a camper trailer in the woods. We moved on quickly with our day, as though we hadn’t visited the almost-sacred place in the lore of the camp. The next day, the final nature hike group got to visit it too, observing it from the outside alone. Knowing I had once been in their shoes… was an odd feeling. It put it all into perspective, how ridiculous all my childhood fears had been. 

And then came the sleepout. A full moon, just like mine had been. They asked me to tell the story this time around, and I was happy to oblige. I was much more of a horror fan now, even if I still couldn’t stomach Halloween past the opening credits yet. I told the story as best as I remembered it, pausing for a moment towards the end, a grin growing on my face as I chose to add my embellishment.

“And if you hear a noise at night, a steady clink, clink, clink…” I told them all, watching their wide eyes somehow grow wider. “It’s best if you stay very, very still. He’s trying to draw out the ones who are the most scared. The ones who will try to run.”

It felt right. Attaching a piece of myself to the story that had haunted me for several years, especially attaching a piece that felt entirely connected to the story. My fear would not have been the same without that steady clinking, and thus… it felt integral. I made one simple mistake that night. I thought I had stopped believing. Thought it didn’t have power over me anymore. Thought it was all just a grim, twisted little story some shit-head seventeen-year-old had cooked up. 

I was wrong.

It was around midnight. All the leaders were still awake, sitting in the gazebo and keeping watch over the doors to the lodge and the kids in the field. Some of them were smoking, and given the fact I couldn’t stand the smell of cigarette smoke, I wandered off. I don’t know what drew me there. Down to the creek, following its flow until I reached the trailer once more, but going there was my second mistake and my greatest. I saw it then through the trees. The tell-tale signs of a campfire. Against my better judgment, I moved closer. I saw him there, the old man with his shotgun, and I couldn’t help the fearful noise that escaped me. Just like the story, he lept to action. Just like the story, I sprinted through the woods. Just like the story, I felt like the old man was mere feet behind me, practically stepping on my heels.

Just like the story, I broke through the tree line. I didn’t stop running until I reached the lodge, situating myself in the furthest corner. I heard it then, as I had heard it all those years ago. Clink. Clink. Clink. Once more, my good sense failed me, and carefully I crept to the window of the lodge.

What I saw there… wasn’t an old man. It wasn’t anything I could recognize, but I knew it was what had pursued at me. It grinned in the darkness, one hand gripping the flag hook, tapping it against the pole. I locked eyes with the thing, before quickly making my way back to my corner. I had no clue what it was. I still don’t have any idea, but I know it is evil, and I know it wanted me.

It didn’t come for me that night. It didn’t come for anyone. I was left wondering if I imagined it all. If it had been some kind of realistic dream, a fear-induced hallucination, or something else. I would never know. I would never have any intent of finding out. I was perfectly happy never returning to that summer camp again and I ensured I didn’t. I remember the trailer. I remember the story. Most of all, I remember that pallid, thin thing staring at me in the dark, grinning like it knew something I didn’t. Like it had some trick up its sleeve. The only thing I know for certain is I will never see that thing again, not if I can do anything about it. If you ask me, they should burn that trailer down, stop the sleep-out, and never, ever share the story.

But people rarely ask me. And even more rarely do they take my advice.

[kmze]

It was Chad and James who brought back the familiar manipulative side of stefan in 7×07 when he psychologically tortured his mom just to convince her they needed to murder her bf after using his so-called truth even though he knew that truth wouldn't work on her.That's how shrewd Stefan was and those two writers stood out in my mind for that particular season at least because otherwise Stefan was being easily outmanipulated by simple manipulation tricks in others' episodes which seemed deliberate.Chad and James also wrote Stefan laying Calla Lilies at Liz's grave on her death anniversary.I would say it was a thoughtful gesture to, maybe, bring a part of his mom for Caroline's !?!Brett IMO was probably a Damon fanboy but he did write Defan well.Ironically he was the one who wrote Stefan letting Elena die in 3×22.

Yup I loved the murder Thanksgiving episode! I loved how Damon just sat back and watched the master work because Damon knew his brother was the master manipulator, I also loved how it paralleled with 6x19 that Stefan comes up with an elaborate theme to psychologically torture people he loves. I can't remember which panel it was at Epic Cons but someone asked Julie if picking May 10, 1994 for the prison world was because that's the day John Wayne Gacy was executed and he was a prolific serial killer like Kai (and Damon lbr). She said she did not realize the connection until that person mentioned it but said it was probably James and Chad who knew and picked it because they were always big on small details like that so the calla lilies connection coming from them makes sense, although in general calla lilies are used in funeral arrangements. They also wrote 8x03 where Stefan smacked Damon for being a little bitch who couldn't fight Sybil's mind control but Enzo could.

Speaking of Stefan being out-manipulated in S7 this reminds me of how you can see Dries' influence on the writers in how dumb he was in early S7 as opposed to clever again at the end of S7. 7x02 and 7x22 were both written by Brian Young a guy very influenced by who the showrunner was (plus BFF with CD). In 7x02 Stefan is a moron, he lets Damon plan way too much of the rescue Caroline mission even though he knows Damon is a flop (like he already had plan b going when Damon came back from his first failed attempt). Why wouldn't Stefan tell Damon to appease to Enzo since he knew how loyal Enzo was to Damon, and why wouldn't he move faster to rescue Caroline once in the house knowing they were on a time limit? Don't even get me started on the plot contrivance of Stefan flying out the window and Caroline falling down the stairs once Matt was alive even though they were standing right next to each other. Then you get 7x22 where Julie is back and CD is gone and Stefan is out here figuring out Damon's who plan to kidnap Lizzie and Josie on "brotherly intuition" because Stefan knew Damon wasn't going to respect Caroline saying no.

You're right Brett wrote excellent Defan but IDK if I'd say he was a Damon fanboy I think he more-so knew what Damon was, kind of a flop with pretty eyes. Like Damon is an easy character to write because he's pretty one-dimensional IMO; does something impulsive (check), says something snarky (check), blames someone else for his mistakes (check). Brett was also the showrunner for Legacies and I thought the musical episode poked fun at the audience with this. There's a scene where Landon (who wrote the musical) is holding auditions and everyone wants to play Damon because Damon is funny and sexy duh! Then Jed comes in and Landon is like "let me guess Damon" and Jed says no I actually kinda like Stefan, and Landon says "ME TOO!" then they fanboy about how he's the anchor to the whole story. I thought that was throwing shade at the audience who's obsessed with Damon whereas Stefan is a more subtle and nuanced character and not as popular.

I think Stefan letting Elena drown came from Julie but I also do think it was something that was hinted COULD happen throughout S2 and S3 and Paul hated it because it made Stefan look terrible especially in regards to the triangle of doom. Stefan was too consumed by his need to be the good brother who respects Elena's choices that he valued how Elena thought about him over her life! Damon on the other hand would let the world burn if it kept Elena alive, he didn't care if she hated him for eternity as long as she was alive. And Brett wrote Amnesia Stefan being flabbergasted that he would let his girlfriend die in 5x04. Then he co-wrote 7x21 where Stefan flat out mocked that decision saying "because I respected her damn choice she died and I lost her" and he refused to apologize to Caroline for doing it. He didn't care if she hated him as long as she was alive "the thought of you getting hurt, it's not an option I'm willing to entertain."

[yellowloid]

You can fight me. Everyone in the music industry knows Miles Kane is a scrounger and would have never been there where he is without Alex. Dude has no talent otherwise he would have gotten there on his own. How much did his last albums make? Only some Milex shippers put in their fantasies and listened to it. That's why he baits them so much it's the only fan group he has to get some money. He can't sing nor write. Don't come to me with guitar playing many can do that. Miles occupies a place he should never been at in the first place. And you guys just love to push away the assault stories that came out about him. Which is gross and not understandable at all. But the truth will come out anyway. You can hate me now and insult me fight me off, ignore and delete this ask nothing would cause more damage than you guys just supporting a man whose status is clear personally and professionally but you guys just ignore it for your fantasies. I hope in the future you all will get to your senses and this will stop once and for all. 🧡 I know it's partly also Alex's fault.

lmao are you aware of the fact that he's literally your fave's fave? he's collaborated with not only alex/am (who i'm assuming you're a fan of, which i'll get back to in a sec), but also with muse/matt bellamy, lana del rey, the gallagher brothers, and the list could go on? are you aware of the fact that all those very talented musicians would have never even looked at him TWICE if he lacked talent like you're so adamantly stating - and let me just add: on anon, on a random tumblr blog, using a lot of words to say absolutely nothing? where are your facts, babe? why are you wasting your time, my time, everyone who's reading time, to prove... what, exactly? you're not gonna convince anyone of anything. miles isn't gonna read any of this. what are you doing here.

but let's go back to me assuming you're an am/tlsp fan. are you aware of the fact that if miles had absolutely zero talent like you claim, it's safe to say many am tracks (to name just a few: 505, the fwn b-sides), songs i'm assuming you enjoy, wouldn't be the same? sure, they'd still sound great because it's alex/am's doing, but miles did take part in the recording process. he literally has credits on fwn.

do you think if alex thought he had no talent he'd even allow him to get close to his precious work? he would never. miles is his best friend along with the monkeys, but he would've never collaborated with him if he didn't recognize his talent.

and lastly, are you aware of the fact that if miles had no talent like you say, tlsp would literally not exist? it's a duo project. they've worked together, miles and alex as equals, to create taotu and then eycte. absolute masterpieces. if it weren't for the two of them working together, none of those songs would exist.

again, alex (a very, very, very talented musician like the ones i mentioned above) recognizes miles' talent. some random anon on tumblr dot com doesn't. oh well.

[tygerbug]

DOCTOR WHO: The Giggle (2023) : It's hard to shake the feeling that I've seen this before, and not in a bad way. It feels instead like the series is playing the old hits. The triumphant return to Doctor Who of its original 2005 showrunner (Russell T Davies) and lead actor (David Tennant) sticks the landing, in all three of these specials, by doing the same sort of stuff it would have done in the late 2000s. It's bigger, bolder, gayer, and feels like there's more money onscreen (after a partnership with Disney+ that hopefully won't doom the show later on). The CGI effects and production design are genuinely impressive throughout. The show has worked hard to shake its reputation as a cheap-looking and cheesy science fiction adventure, by throwing money at the problem, and it pays off here.

The Toymaker was introduced in 1966 as a way to replace the lead actor of the show, before the producers came up with a different idea. Doctor Who is a show that has always benefited from a change in actor and producers, in order to embrace change and find a new twist on what can otherwise be a repetitive format. But so far, the new Russell T Davies specials have been a glorious return to the same old rubbish. It has been said that every Doctor Who writer has one story in them, that they will write over and over again until forced to leave the show. We see elements of previous stories in The Giggle, repeated with the full confidence that we'll enjoy seeing this sort of thing again. The cast, also, seem fully convinced that they're doing the sort of thing Doctor Who fans like. We haven't seen that in awhile. Viewing figures have dropped off a cliff in the age of streaming (a problem for all television across the board), and the Capaldi and Whittaker eras of Doctor Who didn't get the same promotion and merchandise that David Tennant and Matt Smith got. The show took two years off (2016, 2019), and stopped making new toys, games, and spinoffs. Bringing back Russell T Davies and David Tennant comes with the hope that the show can be a cultural juggernaut again.

This is, presumably, the last we're going to see of David Tennant as the current Doctor Who, and inevitably it leaves the viewer wanting more. Tennant was probably the most popular Doctor Who of the 2005 revival, and he slips back into the role easily, because he's still very good at doing this. It makes me feel old to hear the incoming Doctor Who, Ncuti Gatwa, talk about how he "grew up watching" David Tennant, and how Tennant's 2009 Hamlet inspired him to become an actor. Gatwa is 31 years old.

This special is over an hour long - it's an hour and one minute - as Russell T Davies said excitedly in a social media video. And isn't it nice to be excited about Doctor Who again, something that Davies has always tried to bring to the table, even if his enthusiasm can be grating. But an hour is really not enough. There are a ton of ideas in this special that are explored only briefly, and could have used another 30 minutes to an hour of screentime. We notice the cheats, and the shorthand. We notice how the episode is about arguing politics on social media, until it's not. (The villain of the week even tosses off that Gender Critical catchphrase, "handmaidens.") The special is about the Doctor and the Toymaker facing off to play a game again, following up on a now-mostly-lost story from 1966. But we notice that the Doctor always chooses "the most simple game of all," removing any need to spend screentime explaining game mechanics. I could have happily watched these "games" for another episode, in some form or another.

The result, as with so many of Russell T Davies' stories, is that a big worldwide threat is established, which will inevitably be deflated in a way that's smaller than its setup. "Classic" Doctor Who would sit in these threats for a few episodes, but post-2005 Doctor Who tends to lack that sort of padding. More running time would likely have been filled with something else entirely. In true RTD fashion, the evil plan that's affecting the world is a completely nonsensical story beat. Calling the idea half-baked is an overstatement. It's not baked at all, but RTD assumes the actors can make it work in the performance. And yes, they can, but they would do equally well with better material. As with the Toymaker himself, the writing is a showy stage set with nothing in the back. RTD deduced correctly, long ago, that the vibes of Doctor Who are of more importance than whether these events are explained enough to make sense. RTD's Doctor Who is dramatic, flashy, silly, anything but boring. That's its greatest strength, and occasionally its weakness.

The special is stolen almost entirely by Neil Patrick Harris, as the Toymaker in question. The role as written calls for a big, showy, over the top performance, and Harris nails it with equal parts comedic camp and genuine menace. Harris does a lot with a bad German accent, solidifying the Toymaker as someone who is always joking and playing around, but who can also unravel your life in an instant if he so desires. The gay coding is text rather than subtext, as both a wink and a threat. This viewer suspects that one reason the show never brought this villain back until now, is that he is overpowered and does not fit in with the show's universe as we understand it. His flaws are as overpowered and unexplained as his powers. He is a fairy tale character, who can only be defeated in trivial ways, and it makes an already silly show even sillier. This is not a complaint. At times the performances are wonderful. At other times the tertiary supporting cast seem unsure how to react to whatever is occurring.

It's hard not to notice that this is basically a retread of how the Master was presented (played by John Simm) in 2007's "The Sound of Drums." Many of the story beats are identical, to the point where the script even points this out in an attempt to say it's different this time, in some unexplained way. But this version landed better with me, since The Toymaker has less history with the Doctor and was due for a reinvention. (It's harder not to compare the new series Master with the old series Master, and by comparison he/she is fan-ficcy and lacks a certain mavitas.) It helps that The Toymaker, like the Master, is witty, indulging in little performances and disguises for no one's amusement but his own. A good actor can make a meal out of this sort of thing.

The Toymaker, or Celestial Toymaker, was played memorably by the late Michael Gough in a 1966 story. It's not one of the show's best, and only the final episode of four is known to exist today, apart from audio. (A CGI animated version has been announced.) Writer Brian Hayles (credited here) pitched "The Eyes of Nemesis" in 1975, but was rejected. He would have returned in 1986 for "The Nightmare Fair" (with Colin Baker), but the show was facing cancellation at the time and scripts for "season 23" were cancelled in favor of what became "The Trial of a Time Lord" (which introduced Bonnie Langford, who recurs here). Michael Gough declined to return for the silly 1993 special "Dimensions In Time." The late David Bailie played the role on audio in The Nightmare Fair and Solitaire (with Paul McGann's Doctor but without Paul McGann). These stories are no longer canon on television.

"Celestial" has an unfortunate dual meaning here. It can refer to something from the sky, of the stars, and of outer space. It's also a 19th-century slur for Chinese people, and the character wore Chinese-inspired dress throughout, as if appearing in a children's pantomime. (A different character also says the N-word during a nursery rhyme in the story, something edited out of later audio releases.) To his credit, Michael Gough doesn't play the role in any detectably racist way, and "The Giggle" only references "Celestial" to mean "of the stars." It also shows the Toymaker trying on German, French, American and British personas as a running pattern. Yes, it's canonical now, in 2023, that the Toymaker is just a bit racist.

I say all of this only to note that we're getting into the deepest and dankest weeds here, in terms of referencing Doctor Who episodes that new fans of the show could not reasonably be expected to have seen. Mavic Chen is also referenced, from The Daleks' Master Plan, and as with the Toymaker, if you weren't already watching Doctor Who in 1965 and 1966, you haven't seen that (quite wonderful) story in full, because nine out of twelve episodes no longer exist today, except as audio.

Some time here is also spent explaining what Melanie Bush (Bonnie Langford) got up to after she left the show in 1987. (Tony Selby's character of Sabalom Glitz is referenced. The actor passed away in 2021.) The Youtube documentary specifically name-checks "Time and the Rani," possibly the silliest and campest Doctor Who story ever made. These are not moments intended for casual viewers. I doubt they'll actually be confused by the name-dropping, but you are a long way down the Doctor Who iceberg of camp if you're getting these reference. Would the average Doctor Who fan even get these references? Yes, of course, because they're sickos.

A few Photoshopped flashes of Michael Gough and William Hartnell are even thrown in as a flashback, as if Doctor Who has now, himself, visited the Doctor Who website and subscribed to the official Doctor Who Youtube channel.

Back in 1983 we got "The Five Doctors," with a cast of as many Doctor Who actors as could be bothered to show up for it. (Tom Baker said no.) For the Fiftieth Anniversary, "The Day of the Doctor" brought back David Tennant, Billie Piper, Tom Baker, and (checks notes) Peter Capaldi, who wasn't even Doctor Who yet. And John Hurt, who never was. (Chris Eccleston said no.)

The David Tennant specials are a different star beast entirely, without a lot of cameos, unless we're counting Trinity Wells, Mel Bush and Wilf Mott. (Bernard Cribbins passed away during filming, and Wilf is seen only briefly, played by a stand=in. He is otherwise referenced as being just offscreen.) Instead, the vibe is, "what if we brought back David Tennant and Catherine Tate to do roughly the same sort of thing we used to do back around 2008?" So this is how Russell T Davies has spent the 60th anniversary of Doctor Who, and I think he had the right instincts about it. There are a lot of nods to the past, but it mostly amounts to namedropping. The Meep and The Toymaker are pulled from such distant, old canon that they might as well be new. Fans might say, it's good to finally see The Meep and The Toymaker onscreen, but they're very deep cuts. The point of this exercise, really, is having Tennant and Tate back, as if they're the current Doctor Who team, for awhile. Appearances by other actors would have distracted from what we're seeing here. (This does, however, explain the need for little minisode projects featuring old series cast, like Tales of the TARDIS and the trailers for The Collection Blu-Rays.)

Tennant's Fourteenth Doctor is also subtly different. His previous Doctor would have burnt up a sun to say goodbye, but could not say the words "I love you." This Doctor says "I love you" casually, and it surprises the hell out of him. If this is part of some grander character arc, we don't see it spelled out here. What we get instead is an ending unlike anything we've seen before, which is also very, very much like the endings RTD has written before. It's something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue.

Viewers have theorized that previous special "Wild Blue Yonder" was partly based around fears of AI replacing human input on the internet, ruining all our information and never quite getting the hands right. The political messaging is less subtle here. The Giggle feeds into humanity's worst impulses, which play out like someone who is wrong on social media, but convinced that they're right. There are overt references to anti-vaxxers and the Cult of Gender Critical. One returning character seems to have become Alex Jones. This doesn't last long though, as the story has other things to do. It's a background detail rather than an overall political statement. "Doctor Who gets political?" Well, maybe a little bit, when it remembers to. The references to feminism and transgender identity in The Star Beast were more of a running theme.

Both episodes featured Ruth Madeley as Shirley Anne Bingham, a UNIT scientific advisor who uses a wheelchair due to spina bifida. This actually comes up more in this episode, with overt references to the discrimination she faces, and an effort to make the TARDIS wheelchair-accessible (and add a jukebox). What we haven't seen in awhile is a male UNIT soldier whose name we'd remember. Personally, I wouldn't want Jack Harkness or Mickey Smith (they know what they did) but would settle for Clyde Langer, or similar. Or if this is still a girl's club, Rani Chandra. (Also this is somehow the second UNIT episode in a row where they've forgotten about Liz Shaw. First scientific advisor AND first redhead?)

There are some typically Russell T Davies touches here, like a warning that the bigger overall villain(s) are still coming for the Doctor, so stay tuned folks. And an unexplained Nick Briggs-voiced creature called the Vlinx. Are they going to start making action figures of this sort of thing again?

In the Youtube documentaries, incoming Doctor Who Ncuti Gatwa (pronounced "Shuti") is seen doing a one-handed cartwheel, something impressive but not seen in the actual episode. There is a scene of some athletic play where the actors show what they can do. The answer is not "catch a ball" or "give Jemma Redgrave and Bonnie Langford anything coherent to react to." I look forward to more of Ncuti's physicality in the role. You can feel the show testing how gay it's allowed to be, in specific ways we haven't seen since RTD was last writing it. Ncuti's Doctor never puts on trousers in all of his/their screentime. They are also seen in a skirt or kilt, raving, in the trailer for the Christmas special. RTD seems a bit interested in Ncuti's legs, as Moffat was interested in Amy Pond's. (Pond is also referenced here, because it's the 60th.) Now, I'm not going to say "they wouldn't have done that in the sixties," because they did. Gatwa is youthful and fashionable, all teeth and pectoral muscles, and seems comfortable enough in the role. How that actually translates to the screen, we find out on Christmas day. It involves singing CGI goblins.

So far this has been a triumphant return of the same old rubbish. My hope is that Ncuti Gatwa's Doctor Who can also be more of the same.

[rkshion]

i don’t know what you’re waiting for  —

                                                                                          #rkmar18eval — wake up by H.A.M.                                                                              march 31st, 2018: MONTHLY EVALUATION                                                                                                                                   ( 0:29-2:58 )

he nervously held his own hands, squeezing them like he could somehow gather more energy from something that was already part of him. the boy wasn’t exactly nervous, but it wasn’t like you could very easily get rid of all your nerves before any kind of performance. he was the type to study all day long and still have doubts if he’d do well or not in an exam, so why wouldn’t he have been the same when it came to evaluations?

it may have sounded weird but jihoon wasn’t exactly the best at snapping, so just as much as he had practiced his singing the boy also spent his time snapping his fingers. maybe practice really did make perfect but his snaps still often came out sort of faded one time or another. they were in a group of five, so hopefully it wouldn’t be something to worry too much about. he could always just work on that skill afterward.

his voice, though, was something more urgent. as the time passed by and warned him of how close it was to his part, jihoon’s stomach tightened under his skin. after all those discourses on breathing techniques, he wasn’t too sure if that feeling would be any good for his performance. still, he barely had any actual lines, so he quickly picked up his breath before singing. the few lines didn’t come out as perfectly as he had practiced, but they also didn’t have any sort of big failures. it was probably a matter of experience and jihoon would have to work hard to get any better at it.

still, his job wasn’t done. the song was heavily involved with harmonizations, and since he didn’t have any more main lines then he needed to serve as a back vocal. wow.

[ppersonna]

ride or die - myg | m

we don't need money to feel good cause you're the ride or die, the rest of my life. don't need a party to feel high, we're like the modern version of bonnie and clyde , bonnie & clyde, yuqi

✹ summary- there’s nothing in the world you wouldn’t do for Min Yoongi.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- min yoongi x reader

✹ word count- 1.6k

✹ genre- hmm idk. maybe some angst, some smut, some action?, established relationship, criminal!au

✹ chapter warnings- sexual content, mentions of criminal acts/police, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of death, guns, unhealthy obsession with each other lol

✹ a/n- hi loves! i wanted to challenge myself and write something a bit more prose-heavy than any sort of plot or semblance of plot. i hope you enjoy this random drabble that wouldnt leave my brain!!! thanks to @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @nomseok​ for looking over it for me and helping me feel better about it LOLLL. i love u all ALSO PLS LISTEN TO THE SONG BONNIE AND CLYDE BY YUQI IT IS AMAZING AND WHERE I GOT ALL MY INSPO FOR THIS!!

 75 mph…

100 mph…

Yoongi’s hand grips tight on the inside of your thigh, fingers pressing into the supple flesh as his foot presses down the gas pedal. 

The engine roars, matching the screaming explosion you feel inside your chest. Your veins feel like they’re flowing with the same high-octane fuel that Yoongi’s injected to the engine of the 1969 matte black Camaro.

Yoongi.

There’s nothing in the world you wouldn’t do for Yoongi.

The engine screams to life again, tearing through the otherwise silent car. It won’t be quiet for long. You can hear the distant blaring of police sirens, the low-grade rumble of helicopter wings closing in.

Yoongi simply smirks when you glance at him, eyes focused on the road with one hand on the leather steering wheel and the other rubbing at the skin of your inner thigh.

The sirens sound closer, only streets away now. Yoongi acts as if it’s only you and him, as if there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than right here in this car with you beside him and the bag of prized jewels in the back.

You love him. You love him more than you’ve ever loved another, more than you’d ever convince yourself you’d love again. He’s all-consuming. Yoongi is the cosmos, the universe that holds you within his center.

You’d die for Yoongi.

You’d kill.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, unable to speak any further. You don’t need to. Yoongi knows what you’re saying. He grips your leg tighter and the smirk widens on his face, finally flickering his eyes over to your own. 

“I know,” he says. Because he does.

Yoongi gives no sign that he’s scared. He’s the picture of composure as he squeezes the car through narrow streets, tires squealing as he spins the wheel to slide into the next alley way and dodge the cops through yet another neighborhood. He doesn’t even bat an eye as he defends you inside the jobs, gun blazing as he ensures your safety without even a glance back. 

He gives no indication that anything can go wrong, as if his mind is already made up that everything will be okay and you’ll both get out, get away, without a scratch.

It’s different when he lays you down. He sets you on the cheap motel mattress with care, like a delicate doll, made of glass and ceramic, one wrong move away from breaking.

He presses his lips to every inch of your body, as if ensuring himself that you’re okay, that you’re here, that he got you out safely. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t want to break the reverent silence of the dingy bedroom that becomes his chapel when he has you in his arms.

Safe. 

You’re safe and Yoongi needs hours to remind himself of that, needs more than just kisses and touches. He pushes himself into you slowly, letting the tight heat of your core remind him just how alive you are. He opens you up like a prayer, spreading your legs and gasping for air as he recites the only invocation he knows, the only one he believes in.

“I love you.”

Sweaty and overheated, your hands grasp for any part of Yoongi you can--his arms, his vascular hands. You need more, need to feel him in more ways than you can count. Yoongi feels so good buried deep inside you, rocking his hips against your own and making your body scream with pent-up desire.

“I love you, Yoongi,” you nearly scream as he hits a spot within you that makes you forget about the whole world around you. “Only you.”

Yoongi doesn’t believe in a God, doesn’t believe in any higher power. But he thinks the closest to heaven is the way you cry his name for him, the way you keen for more as he spills himself inside you.

The duffel bag of dollar bills is heavy in your lap as you throw yourself into the Camaro, running from the high rise bank, and Yoongi slams on the gas pedal before you can even close the door.

“Shit!” Your hands grip at the duffel bag, trying to stay afloat in the speeding car. The door closes by itself after he careens down the highway and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“God, that was so fucking good,” Yoongi grins, voice high with excitement and adreneline. “You did so fucking good, baby doll.”

The praise goes straight to your heart, straight to the muscle inside your chest that has Yoongi’s name stamped into each vein, each artery. He’s yours, he’s so wholly yours and you so wholly his, you think you can’t even breathe without him around.

You don’t watch where he drives, too focused on the curve of his cheeks, the way his black hair is pushed back messily. You don’t care where he takes you. All you need is him and the feel of his hand resting on your thigh, a spot made just for him.

Yoongi.

I’d die for you, Yoongi, don’t you know that?

Yoongi finally, blessedly, looks over at you once he’s settled himself onto a long stretch of highway outside of the city, no longer looking in the rearview mirror for the shining lights of the police, no longer zipping and weaving between other cars on the road.

The peace of the open road settles in your chest and you let go of the duffle bag, throwing it over your shoulder to sit in the backseat, in between the bag of jewels and the expensive artwork from the last heist.

You settle into the seat and he lets his fingers spread out, touching you as if grounding himself to you. 

“You’re my ride or die, baby,” he breathes after a moment of silence. You stare straight ahead, watching as the dark sunset ahead of you bursts in an explosion of colors.

“Forever, Yoongi.”

Yoongi could spend hours between your thighs. He doesn’t even make any attempts to remove himself from the taste of your slick cunt until you’ve climaxed twice from his tongue. He eats you like he’s parched, only able to sate his thirst by drinking directly from your core.

He holds your legs tight, reminding himself you’re here, you’re with him, you’re never leaving and he’s never letting you go. 

Your hands thread through his hair, gripping the silken raven locks as he digs his tongue into your channel yet again, lapping up the sweetness that spills from your orgasm, relishing in the rhythmic chanting of his name. He never wants to hear anything else drip from your lips, wants no other name but his own staining the pretty pout and echoing around the motel room.

You are his everything. His world. His universe. 

He finally pulls away, smiling up at you after your third consecutive orgasm wrought by his mouth, and kisses at the skin of your thighs--the same place he allows his hand to rest when he steers you away from the chaos of your burglaries.

“I love you more than anything in this world,” he breathes, pressing his soft kisses up your legs and swirling around your belly.

“More than money?” You ask, out of breath.

“More than money.”

“More than jewels?”

“More than anything any bank in the world combined could have in their stores,” he promises to every inch of your breasts, tongue lapping at the nipple. “More than any king could ever want.”

“Yoongi,” you sigh when he finally slides into you, completing you. You’re nothing without him, nothing without the feeling of him within you.

“Say it again,” he whispers against your ear as he thrusts into you gently, holding you tenderly in his arms.

“Yoongi.”

His head falls against your own, foreheads touching as he bores his eyes into yours. His. His, his, his. You’re his only, and his forever, and he never wants to live another moment, another day, another second, without you.

He claims you, seed spilling deep into your womb at the height of your shared climax. Your body welcomes him, clenches with desire and milks him to the last drop, desperate to keep him within you for as long as you can.

“It’s just you and me forever, baby,” he says after he’s cleaned you up and laid you down.

Suddenly, there’s sirens and the flashing red and blue lights outside the window.

“Come out! We have you surrounded.”

Yoongi helps you throw on clothes, whispering hurriedly as he stashes the guns he needs into his pocket and throws one to you. 

He throws a look at you as he knocks the glass out of the back window of the bathroom.

“You ready for another adventure, baby?”

The gun feels heavy in your hands, but solid. Comforting. The gun is your means of staying with Yoongi, never leaving his sight. You’d take down anything that stood in the way, eliminate any threat that posed a risk of taking him away.

He notes your silence and kisses you quick, before hoisting you up to climb out the window and make a run for the hidden Camaro in the alleyway.

He catches up to you, hand slipping into your own and tugging you to run faster, the Camaro coming into your sights like a sanctuary. You can hear the pounding footsteps of the police around the building, the splintering wood as they force themselves into the now-vacant motel room, still wet and hot from where you made love.

Yoongi grins as he slides into the car and fires the engine, pulling you in for a deep and passionate kiss, hands hovering over the steering wheel.

With a quirk of his lips, he places his hand back on it’s spot on your thigh.

“Ride or die, right, baby?”

[comfortbucky]

I asked for the doctor!bucky andd you don't have to write but I forgot to ask... He is like a really busy doctor and it surprises the female reader that he is going to do her stitches... Wanda is his assistant. He has to give you a pain numbing shot in your cut and he comforts you when you scream and writh in pain... Thanks xxx

𝗻𝘂𝗺𝗯 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚ ⋆ ⋆｡˚

pairing: doctor!bucky x fem!reader

warnings: descriptions of bloody injuries, medical settings, stitches, needles

A/N: omg i’ve never written for doctor!bucky before so i’m excited hehe :) thank u for ur request! // i changed around who was administering the numbing agent and doing the stitches btw i hope u don't mind, just made more sense in my head for bucky to be able to comfort her if his hands are free!

hope u enjoy! <3 sorry if this isn't that good asjdfhaldf

Y/L/N = your last name

also let me just indulge myself and sprinkle some of my own experiences in this bc a couple months ago i literally slammed my head into a wall and cut my eyelid😃nothing bad enough to get stitches but i do have a scar💗

word count: 2k

my masterlist!

completed requests!

“Y/N! Come quick!”

Y/N was digging through her dresser for a sweater when her roommate, Darcy, called out for her. She lifted her head up and spun it without thinking, completely forgetting that her dresser was situated in the corner of her room, slamming her head into the wall.

Her ears started to ring and she bent over in laughter, her natural response to pain, as tears threatened to fall down her face.

“Y/N?” Darcy was met by silence, Y/N struggling to respond, her body overcome with laughter so hard she was inaudible. Concerned that Y/N had knocked herself out cold, Darcy peeked her head around the corner of Y/N’s doorway, to find her hurled over, a hand over her left eye, drops of crimson blood on the ground.

“Holy shit, are you okay?” Y/N lifted her head, calming down from her fit of laughter, and nodded.

“Yeah, of course, this would happen to me,” she replied chuckling, taking a tissue from Darcy to put pressure on her cut.

Carefully making her way to a mirror, Y/N grabbed her phone on the way. She stared at her reflection and slowly removed the tissue from her face to examine the extent of her injury. It was steadily bleeding, most likely a bad sign. Y/N placed her tissue back over her cut and reached for her phone and Facetimed her friend Matt, an EMT.

“Hello- What the fuck happened to you?”

“Hi Matt,” she replied, shooting him a grin through the screen. “Slammed my head against the wall, by accident.”

“I would hope so,” he sighed. “Let me guess, you’re wondering whether you should go to the ER or not?”

“You know me so well, Matty.”

“Has it stopped bleeding?” Y/N removed the tissue and felt a warm liquid trail down the side of her face.

“No.”

“Go to the ER, please.” She groaned.

If there was one place in the world she despised, it was a hospital. But Y/N knew she wouldn’t be able to convince either of her friends otherwise, and dragged her feet as she reluctantly followed Darcy to her car.

It was a normal night in the ER, which meant a fury of organized chaos. Bucky found himself needed in 6 places, all at the same time. But this was an environment that he had become accustomed to, almost finding comfort in the madness of it all. Although the ER was bustling with patients, there weren’t any injuries that were very severe, mostly just broken bones and lacerations. Simple enough to the point where Bucky felt like he was operating on autopilot mode. Going through the motions of whatever task he needed to do, but not anything more than that. He felt numb. For the last several years of his life, the hospital was all that he knew. Bucky kept himself busy with work, leaving him with only a small social circle and his cat, Alpine. It was enough for him, but he never really felt complete. Which is why he threw himself into his work, drowning out his inner thoughts about a missing piece he never thought he’d find.

“Dr. Barnes, paging Dr. Barnes to bed 25.”

Bucky took a quick sip of his coffee and sighed before heading off to see his next patient. Wanda appeared from around the corner and started walking with him.

“This one’s a simple laceration, just might need stitches.” Bucky nodded in response to her, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

She was one of the select few who he considered a friend. Which was a little odd considering he was an attending and she was only a resident. But she was a good student, a fast learner, and one of the only residents he was ever willing to work with. He took her under his wing, fostering a friendship by spending time together in his office, reviewing various medical cases and files.

“Alright, you up to do them?”

Wanda came to a halt, Bucky taking a couple steps before looking back at her, tilting his head, waiting for a response.

“Y-Yeah, yes!” She stammered. “T-thank you, Dr. Barnes.” He nodded his head and turned back around to continue walking, Wanda close behind.

Y/N was sat on the edge of the bed, one hand holding a blood-soaked tissue over her left eye. Her leg was bouncing, a nervous tic she had developed from a young age. The adrenaline had worn off, forcing her to feel a throbbing pain, her eyes brimming with tears. She avoided crying in front of people whenever possible, so as soon as Darcy left to grab some coffee and snacks from the cafeteria, she let the floodgates open. The sound of footsteps approaching made her freeze and she used her sleeves to sloppily wipe away the tears that were streaming down her face.

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

A firm, but somehow also gentle, voice called out to her before the curtain was pulled open to reveal a tall man with dark brown hair, a stubbly beard, and stunningly blue eyes standing next to a woman with blazing red hair and contrasting green eyes. Y/N’s gaze was immediately fixated on the man’s eyes, unable to look away for a moment, before she realized she was staring. She quickly looked down and cleared her throat.

“Y/N, you can just call me Y/N.”

The man nodded and set down his clipboard at the end of the bed before speaking.

“I’m Dr. Barnes and this is Dr. Maximoff.” The woman gave a slight wave as she began charting on a computer. “Can I take a look at your eye?”

Y/N nodded, feeling her anxiety rise as the doctor pulled some gloves on and approached her.

He pulled over a stool to sit on and carefully removed the tissue that Y/N had been holding in place to assess the injury. While Bucky looked at her cut, he stole a glance to study the rest of her face. He couldn't help but take note of the pained look on her face, her eyes still watery and her button nose red from crying. It was the first time in a long time that he felt a twinge of pain while looking at someone's injury, that he felt practically anything at all during a shift. She felt his warm breaths on her face for a moment before he pulled away and replaced her bloody tissue with some gauze.

“Do you mind if she takes a look as well?” Y/N nodded again. Bucky got up from the stool, allowing Wanda to take his spot and assess her eye.

“So it looks like you just need 2 or 3 stitches, very simple procedure.”

Y/N felt her entire body tense up at Wanda's conclusion. She could barely stand sitting in a hospital bed alone and now she was about to get poked and prodded with needles. Bucky noticed and attempted to ease her worries.

"We'll administer a numbing agent, so you won't feel any pain, just pressure at the site."

She looked up at Bucky, who had a kind, tired expression on his face. It looked like he was having a long night and she didn't want to make his job any more difficult than it probably already was. Y/N gave him a small nod and Wanda started to gather the necessary supplies.

She laid back in bed with Wanda and Bucky sitting next to each other on her left. Her hands were folded on her stomach, eyes shut.

"You're gonna feel a slight pinch, okay?" She nodded and bit her lip to try and distract herself.

Wanda proceeded to administer the numbing shot and Y/N squeezed her hands tight, whimpering in pain. Bucky observed the pained expression on her face and placed a hand on her forearm, reflexively rubbing his thumb in small circles. When Wanda pulled the needle out, Y/N slowly fluttered her eyes open and was greeted by Bucky's warm smile. A blush crept to her cheeks and she turned her attention to the ceiling. Immediately, Bucky realized how unprofessional his action was and removed his hand. He had no idea what had come over him, but he'd never felt so drawn to someone like this before.

"Now I'm going to do the stitches, okay? You should just feel a slight pressure." Just as before, Y/N shut her eyes after Wanda spoke and gripped her hands tight. She felt the pressure that Wanda was talking about and couldn't help but squirm at the feeling. Another wave of anxiety rushed over her and she felt herself start to hyperventilate.

Wanda removed the needle and quickly turned to Bucky, a panicked look on her face. He gave her a reassuring look before speaking softly.

"Y/N? Do you think you could hold still for just a little longer?" She opened her eyes, brimming with tears.

"Sorry, I just, I hate needles." Y/N fiddled with her hands as she kept her gaze up, trying to avoid the tears from escaping. Bucky felt his heart sink in his chest at the sight.

"What do you think would help you relax?"

Thoughts ran through her head as she tried to find a solution to relieve her anxiety. Y/N thought back to when she was young and chuckled, remembering a stuffed whale that she got at an aquarium, that went everywhere with her.

"This is stupid but, when I was a kid, I would carry around this stuffed animal around and it helped to hold it whenever I had to get shots."

Bucky thought for a moment and ran a hand through his hair, wondering if he was going to regret the words about to leave his mouth.

"You could hold my hand."

Y/N and Wanda both looked at him with surprised expressions, regret instantly hitting him.

"If you're comfortable with it," he quickly clarified. Y/N felt the corner of her mouth curve into a smile as she nodded.

She laid back down and Bucky took her hand in his. The instant transfer of heat soothed Y/N and she shut her eyes to allow Wanda to get to work.

When she felt the pressure on her eye again, her hand automatically gripped Bucky's tighter, and he squeezed it back to help calm her. Y/N focused on the callousness of his hands, how his hand seemed to fit into hers perfectly. Suddenly, she was thinking about his eyes again, those glimmering blue eyes. Blue was always a calming color for her, reminiscent of her trip to the aquarium where she got her beloved stuffed whale. As she felt Bucky's thumb gently rub the top of her hand, she realized that her whale could never provide as much comfort as he did.

Bucky felt a sense of pride as he watched the tension in Y/N's face disappear. Suddenly, he found his eyes wandering, looking at the loose strands of hair on the right side of her face, the rosiness of her cheeks, how she glowed. His heart started to palpate and Bucky realized a flame had kindled inside him. He was feeling again.

"All done!" Wanda chirped, stepping aside to let Bucky check her work. He smiled at her patted her on the back with his free hand.

"You did good." Wanda beamed and thanked him, walking away to complete her charting.

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, still feeling the warmth of Bucky's hand in hers. He greeted her with a tender smile and slowly helped her up, placing his other hand on the small of her back.

"See? Wasn't that bad after all," he grinned, releasing her hand. Y/N's smile faltered, missing his touch, and nodded.

"Thank you, Dr. Barnes."

"Bucky," he stated. She raised an eyebrow. "Call me Bucky."

The pair stared at each other in silence, enjoying each other's presence before the PA system snapped them both out of their trance.

"Dr. Barnes, paging Dr. Barnes to bed 16."

Bucky sighed, slowly getting up from his seat.

"Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N."

"You too, Bucky."

He turned around and was about to pull the curtain open when he paused, turning back around to face Y/N, scratching the back of his head. It took one look at her face and Bucky knew he didn't want to let her go just yet.

"Would you like to get coffee sometime?" She beamed up at him and Bucky felt his knees go weak.

"I would like that very much." He chuckled in disbelief and smiled.

Bucky had finally found his missing piece.

[isthisthingeven0n]

brightest lies : s.r

waking up in an unfamiliar place, you quickly learn you’re the next victim in the twisted game of truth or dare. (3k)

darkest truths / brightest lies 

(thank you so much for all the love on the first part of this two part series! tags for mini series: @haylaansmi) 

all my links

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK - IT IS ALL MY OWN WRITING

The first thing you’re aware of is the restriction to your hands, the lack of blood flow to them and your feet. You’re no longer bound to the seat in the car, instead, you’re tied to a chair.

Opening your eyes, you wince at the bright light shining directly onto your face and the pulsing of your left temple. Slowly, your last memories piece themselves together. “Luke,” You call out, hearing his name echo in the space around you as your eyes avert to the droplets of crimson on your top, soaking through your trousers.

“You’re awake.” Someone states from behind you, watching you tense up as you lock your eyes with a doorway, covered in ivy made from metal, coated in gold. “I was worried you weren’t ever going to open your eyes again, Agent.” The voice becomes clearer as the unsub bends down, and you can feel their breath on your neck.

“Am I alone here?” You ask, taking in all the details of the space you’re in.

The unsub shuffles behind you, and you shudder as they glide their gun along your neck before facing you. “Just me and you, Agent.” Bending down in front of you, the unsub positions his gun to your chest, a smile forming on his lips. “So, I’ve got a question for you, Agent Y/l/n, truth or dare?”

*

Spencer had barely moved since he received the phone call.

Luke was in the hospital with Ms Jakings, and you were missing. He had just gotten you back, and you’ve slipped through his fingertips once more.

“Spence,” JJ speaks up, entering the empty room as Spencer sits on the edge of a table, lost in thought. “there’s something you ought to see, Penelope’s receiving a live broadcast.”

Lifting his head up, JJ can only see anger lining her friend's gaze as he marches past her and into the conference room set up by the police department.

“What’s going on?” Spencer asks as the rest of the team turn their heads, Rossi frowning deeply. “Garcia?”

Sniffing to herself, Penelope takes a deep breath as she presses the enter button, sending the broadcast to the team as it plays on the TV.

“Oh my god,” JJ mutters, covering her mouth as you’re sat in the middle of what seems to be a warehouse, tied up as blood coats your face. “is she?”

“She’s alive.” Spencer states, knowing you have to be, he wouldn’t know what he’d do if you weren’t.

The team watch closely as the unsub comes into frame, ignoring the camera wherever it is as you remain oblivious.

“I asked you a question, agent,” The unsub repeats himself as he grabs your face, lifting it up so you meet his gaze. “truth, or dare?”

You sigh quietly, your breathing becoming raspy as you stare back at the unsub. “Truth.” You spit out.

Chuckling to himself, the unsub releases your face and paces around the space, spinning his gun on his index finger as he nods to the camera behind his shoulder, out of your eyeline.

“Tell me something you’re afraid of?” He asks, raising a brow to you as he awaits your response.

“I, I’m afraid my family will never know what happened to me,” You start, looking up to the unsub as you lock onto his green eyes. “that my death will never be something that can be explained as you’ll escape after this, won’t you? I don’t want to die knowing my family will be left with questions.” You explain.

From the station, Spencer remains stoic. JJ and Emily share a look whilst Rossi stands besides Matt, hoping you can buy yourself some time whilst Garcia tries to locate the signal.

“You sound sure of that.” The unsub responds.

“I’ve been in enough situations to know.” You try to shrug your shoulder, but the ropes are too tight for any attempt at movement. “So, truth or dare?”

“Excuse me?” The unsub retorts.

“That’s how the game works. You take it in turns, otherwise, what’s the fun in that?” You ask, trying to keep it together as you force a small smile.

Moving closer toward you, the unsub kneels down. “Okay, agent. Truth.”

“What was your involvement in the Beavers game of truth or dare?” As soon as the question has left your lips, you watch as something changes in the unsubs expression.

His eyes darken, and you barely register the knife he pulls from his back pocket as he sinks it into your thigh.

You yell out in pain, looking down as the handle sticks out from your trousers, but he laughs giddily like a child.

“How much longer, Garcia?” Spencer’s voice is cold as he tears his eyes from the screen whilst your cries ring throughout the room.

Penelope carries on typing, working through various layers of coding. “I’m almost there, but the signal is being bounced across the state.” Penelope reasons as she holds back tears, knowing she needs to keep it together for your sake.

“That wasn’t the answer I was looking for.” You tell the unsub through gritted teeth as you focus on your breathing whilst he shakes his head. “I won’t carry on playing until you tell me.”

“I didn’t play,” The unsub begins as he walks away from you. “my brother, Charlie did. He, he let me sit in on one of the games as I wasn’t old enough to join in so I sat in the background whilst he played.”

Listening closely, you wish the rest of the team could hear this, help in some way. But you’re all alone, it’s down to you to get out of here, or die trying.

“And they dared Charlie to do something stupid, reckless. Charlie sent me out from his room that night, and I wasn’t allowed to see what the dare was.” The unsub pauses before marching back to you and grips the knife from your thigh. “You know what they made him do?” His eyes fill with tears as he stares at you whilst you shake your head. “They made him overdose, on camera.”

Ripping the knife from your thigh, another scream leaves your lips as you hear it clatter against the ground.

“So you, you want revenge?” You breathe out. “For, for Charlie’s sake?”

“This is what Charlie would’ve wanted! Revenge for what those sick teenagers made him do. I saw the recording, they convinced him to take more pills, that he’d be a pussy if he didn’t.” The unsub scoffs as he wipes his eyes before his attention returns to you.

Back in the station, Garcia’s attention is sidetracked as she finds out who the unsub is. “His name is Grayson Taylor. He’s 21, an undergrad at Ohio University, and he did lose his brother Charlie when he was 12. Charlie was 16 at the time when he,” Garcia trails off.

“Is there anything on him? Any bank transactions or work history in the area?” Emily asks, leaning over the table as you manage to stall sometime with Grayson.

“Nothing of late, he, he’s been off the grid.” Penelope sighs as she returns to trying to locate the signal. “I’ve almost got the pinpoint for the broadcast, it’ll be less than two minutes until I’ve got a location.”

You can feel your vision beginning to fade, yet all you can think about is one thing. “I’m sorry,” You mutter under your breath. “I’m sorry, Spence.” You manage to speak coherently, wishing Spencer could hear you.

“Truth or dare, Agent?” Grayson demands, now holding his gun directly to your chest. “And this time, no more games.”

With all your might, you lift your head up and look at the young man as swallow back your tears. “Truth.” You tell him.

“What is your darkest secret? And for your sake, you better make it a good one.” He spits at you, knowing your team are watching from the station.

Everyone in the conference room pauses as they watch intently as tears fall from your eyes. “Come on, Y/n.” Rossi mutters as Tara stands beside him, taking his arm as Spencer tries not to crumble into himself.

“I,” Your lip quivers as you look down to your stomach. “Nearly six weeks ago, I, I found out that I,” A shaky sigh leaves your lips.

“Spit it out, agent!” Grayson yells as he cocks the gun at you, quickly losing his patience.

“I found out that I’m pregnant.” You tell him clearly, and silence falls around the members of the BAU as they look to Spencer. “And I was waiting for the right moment to tell the Dad.” You admit. “But I guess he’ll never know, I, he’ll never get to be the father of our child.” Tears fall from your eyes whilst Grayson claps.

“Oh that is certainly something,” He bluntly laughs. “don’t you think so, agents?” He adds, now catching your attention as you shoot your head up, looking across the room to where Grayson stands with a camera in hand.

“No, no!” You mutter as Grayson zooms in on your face. “Please, please, don’t.”

“Spence,” JJ walks over as Spencer stumbles over his feet and collapses into a chair.

“I’ve got the signal!” Penelope yells through the line. “Technically there are three locations that the signals bouncing from. But all three are warehouses just outside of Beavercreek.”

Not wasting any time, the team exit the station with back up on route whilst your broadcast remains live.

“I can’t do this,” You whimper, and Grayson sighs loudly. “please, can I at least say goodbye?”

Sitting in the SUV with JJ, Emily and Matt, Spencer clenches his fists as they listen to your broadcast.

Grayson rolls his eyes as he nods. “If you must.” He props the camera back up before standing behind you, patting your shoulders as you flinch.

“My name is Y/n Ingot Y/l/n, I know I won’t leave this place alive, but to my family, tell my Mom I went with pride, that I’ll always be her golden child.” You try to compose yourself as you focus on the lens.

“Ingot isn’t Y/n’s middle name.” JJ speaks up, and Spencer snaps out from hearing your last words.

“Ingot is a piece of relatively pure metal, it’s used in steel making.” Spencer explains. “Penelope, are any of the warehouses used in steelmaking or any metalwork?”

“Erm, yes! I’ve sent the directions to you, you’re the closest.” Penelope responds as Emily slams on the gas, heading straight to you.

“Please be okay.” She mutters under her breath as she watches the monitor seeing the team are minutes away, still listening to you on the broadcast.

“And to my other family, the BAU, I’ll never forget a moment of what you did for me. The laughs we’ve had, the heartache and suffering we’ve witnessed, but even in those dark moments, there has always been a triumph. No matter how big or small, there’s been something.” You pause as tears continue to fall from your eyes as the dried blood from your cheek drips with your tears. “I know you’ll think of this as a loss, but please think of the small triumph you’ll have. Save the other students, stop there being more unnecessary death.”

“Anything else?” Grayson nudges you with the gun. “Times running out.” He motions to the blinking light on the camera turning red.

“Spence, Spencer Reid,” A watery chuckle leaves your lips. “I, I love you, Spencer. I think I always have but I was too afraid to admit it before we started dating. You will always be the best person I ever had the pleasure of knowing, and loving. I, I’m sorry we never got to say goodbye, and that we never got to meet our child.” You can’t hold back the sob anymore as your head falls forward. “I love you, goodbye.”

The broadcast ends abruptly after that, and Spencer remains too silent beside JJ. “Spence,” JJ starts, but Spencer shakes his head as tears fall from his eyes, rippling down his cheeks as Emily pulls up to the warehouse.

Without waiting for any orders, Spencer storms ahead to the warehouse. He hovers by the doorway, hearing Grayson taunting you inside.

“Reid.” Emily snaps quietly as Spencer turns his head, eyes filled with rage.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Spencer questions under his breath, watching closely as Emily lowers her gaze. “Don’t you dare tell me how to act right now, Emily.” Spencer adds as he turns around, positioning himself ready to shoot Grayson the second he has the opportunity.

“Thank you for the show, Y/n,” Grayson whistles as he moves to stand in front of you, his back turned to the entrance of the warehouse. “I think you know what happens next, don’t you?”

You nod weakly. “Just, make it quick.” You mutter as you close your eyes, awaiting the inevitable.

Yet, the sound of a gun fires, but you don’t feel any pain course through your body.

Opening your eyes, you look down to see Grayson in front of your feet, lifeless and the faint sound of footsteps rushing toward you.

“Sp, Spence?” You call out as your vision gives in, and you can faintly feel a pair of hands on your cheeks.

“Y/n, come on, stay awake for me!” Spencer pleads as Emily and JJ work on undoing the ties around your wrists and ankles. “Come on, don’t close your eyes, please!” He cries out as he watches your eyes droop. “Please, baby, don’t close your eyes.”

“Medics, in here!” Emily yells as the medics enter the warehouse, assisting you immediately and Spencer is forced to one side.

“Stand down, Reid.” Emily tells him firmly as he watches you being lifted onto a stretcher, breezing in and out of consciousness. “I’m sorry, Spencer.” Emily speaks softly now, resting her hand on Spencer’s arm. “Y/n wanted to tell you herself, I, I couldn’t.”

Spencer nods to Emily before heading out behind your stretcher and into the ambulance.

“She’s stable for now,” One of the medics reports.

“What about,” Spencer trails off, barely having time to comprehend there is a ball of cells inside of you. and knows this level of trauma so early on could result in a miscarriage. “is it?”

“We’ll know more once we get to the hospital, sir.” The other medic answers as the doors close and Spencer sits with you, holding your hand with all his might, never wanting to let go.

*

Three months later:

“Today’s the day, huh?” Penelope grins like a Cheshire cat as she perches on the edge of your desk whilst you grasp onto your mug.

“Why do I feel the strangest sense of De Ja Vu?” You ask, raising a brow as you place your mug down and wheel back in your chair, resting your hands on your small, but growing bump.

“How is my godchild doing? Better not be keeping you up too late.” Penelope chuckles as you roll your eyes before reaching for your crutch.

“Ah, let me help.” Luke calls out as he rushes over, smiling softly to you as he helps you to your feet and with the crutch. “You steady?” He asks, his hands outstretched as he glances to Penelope.

“I’m good, thanks, Luke.” You assure him as Emily exits her office. “You guys have got to stop hovering, I’m fine!” You add as your back remains turned to the entrance to the bullpen. “I know my way around a crutch, thanks to a certain genius who got shot in the knee a few years back.”

“And now look at you,” Spencer pipes in, and you turn around, seeing your goofy boyfriend stood there with his satchel in hand. “quite the pair we make.” He adds.

“Welcome back, Reid.” Luke shakes Spencer’s hand.

“Thanks, it’s good to be back.” Spencer comments as Emily steps closer.

“Come on,” Emily motions to Spencer as he follows behind her. “let’s have a chat about the rules from now on.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Spencer smiles to you before closing the door to Emily’s office. “Looks like someone’s grounded for a while.” Rossi tuts.

“Makes two of us.” You add, motioning to your leg and growing bump.

“Wait, does that mean I can’t have you all to myself anymore?” Penelope frowns.

“Oh, Pen,” Wrapping your arm around her, you kiss her cheek. “you’ve got me for another few months, don’t you worry ‘bout that.”

After a good hour, Spencer exits Emily’s office, looking like his tail is hanging between his legs.

“Hey,” You call Spencer over as you wander to the kitchen whilst it remains empty. “you okay?” You ask, resting your hand on his hip.

Spencer nods as he steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close against him. He closes his eyes as he feels you laugh against him.

“What’s this for?” You question as Spencer pulls away, but his hands remain cemented on your waist.

“For being you.” He mutters. “For surviving, fighting, being a genius, my best friend and a future Mom, and I love you for it all.” Spencer adds.

“Hold on,” You pause, resting your hand against his chest as a smile forms on your lips. “did you just call me a genius?” You revel in the moment as Spencer shakes his head in disbelief.

“That was the takeaway from that?” He laughs through his words whilst you lean forward and kiss him softly.

Before Spencer has a chance to fully react, you pull away. “I love you too, Spence.” You whisper into his lips. “So, you grounded too for a while?”

Nodding in response, Spencer steps left as he reaches for a mug and pours sugar directly into it, knowing you’re giving him a disapproving look. “For the next two months.”

“Huh,” You mutter as you lean against the counter. “looks like you’re stuck with me then, Doctor Reid.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Y/l/n.” He nudges you playfully. “Come on,” He holds his hand out for you to take. “I promised I wouldn’t let go, and I don’t intend on breaking that promise any time soon.”

Taking Spencer’s hand, you both exit the kitchen and return to your desks as paperwork piles up. But every now and then, you catch a glance from your best friend, your love and father of your child. And in that glance, you know that everything will be alright.

[platypuskenny]

So I saw in a reblog you mentioned something about a Kyle OCD headcanon. Can you elaborate?

gladly!!! i actually started writing a post in my drafts about it but never finished.

this is more of a personal headcanon than a theory, but i strongly see kyle as having OCD, especially scrupulosity. i think this originates with his mother's strict moral code, was made worse by his father's manipulation of the law and moral hypocrisy, and really made worse by his experiences with antisemitism where people (mostly cartman) act like kyle is doomed to be horrible and demonic because of his judaism. i get the impression that he obsesses strongly over being a good person, and gets extremely hung up on the idea of being bad to the point that he'll even beg for reassurance until somebody proves otherwise.

"crack baby athletic association" is a big example here because the running gag has kyle go to stan for no reason than to explain his side of the situation, not for stan's sake (because stan doesn't really care) but because kyle wants to hear stan validate his point of view. of course, kyle still does this dodgy shit to begin with, but only because cartman convincingly assuages his fears (and bribes him a bit -- kyle falling for that part feels a little OOC to me, tbh).

“the biggest douche in the universe” is another big one. in this, a phony psychic gives kyle an incredibly vague suggestion about something his grandmother wants him to do. kyle walks out completely shaky and paranoid about his grandmother watching him. he’s willing to uproot his life just to fulfill some debt to his grandma (and rid himself of these panic-inducing thoughts), just because some random guy suggested it. he believes the psychic genuinely while stan considers it all phony and i think that’s because kyle is so preoccupied with doing the wrong thing that he doesn’t want to take chances like this.

he’s also the only one in “toilet paper” to feel guilty about TP’ing the house, to the degree of having recurring nightmares where he exaggerates the impact of his actions to monstrous proportions. he’s even willing to let cartman kill him because these thoughts are so pervasive.

there's other episodes where kyle becomes convinced he has some sort of moral obligation to the rest of the world, and becomes consumed with guilt for things that aren't his fault. "the passion of the jew" is another one, which goes hand-in-hand with his frequent confusion regarding his faith and organizes all the jewish people to atone so he can feel less guilty. he obsesses over heidi's abusive relationship because he just feels guilty about not being able to fix it, even though it's not really his problem.

other episodes show that kyle tends to ruminate on other issues and become hyperaware of his surroundings to the point of panic. in "the tooth fairy's tats," he has an existential panic and questions the reality of everything, obsessively reading a book on alternate realities to better understand things. there's one telling moment when stan simply says, "stop thinking about it" and kyle replies that he can't because he's convinced that thinking about existentialism is the only thing keeping his space-time together. this is clear rumination to me.

the most recent instance of kyle having OCD traits is in "turd burglars." while kyle has had germophobic tendencies before, it's never become incapacitating for him (and it's a parody of matt's own tendencies anyway). in this episode, however, he obsesses over germs to the extent where he can't stop thinking about the organisms around him and inside his body. this plot actually plays out very similarly to "tooth fairy's tats," as kyle's thoughts overpower him until he embraces his microbes as part of him. but that paralyzing fear is still very much intact.

i’m also pretty sure he has more nightmares / nightmarish visions than the other characters, barring maybe cartman (who has a bunch of mental issues himself), so there’s some tendency for him to doom think there. 

anyway i just see a lot of my experiences with mental illness in kyle. that paranoia over what the world is made of, and how to be part of it... a lot of episodes suggests that kyle will spend days distracted by these fears, begging for some sort of answer so he doesn't go nuts. it doesn't necessarily mean he has OCD, but it definitely reminds me of it.