#Could not in good conscience finish that book

[itmeblog]

Every time a book markets itself as clean (not like a reviewer remarking anything but when the book is in its own marketing campaign saying that it is clean) I check and every time it's either Evangelical or Mormon.

Counter: 4

[oflgtfol]

“Clearly there are limits to the uses of skepticism. There is some cost-benefit analysis which must be applied, and if the comfort, consolation, and hope delivered by mysticism and superstition is high, and the dangers of belief comparatively low, should we not keep our misgivings to ourselves? But the issue is tricky… if we offer too much silent assent about mysticism and skepticism — even when it seems to be doing a little good — we abet a general climate in which skepticism is considered impolite, science tiresome, and rigorous thinking somehow stuffy and inappropriate.”

- Carl Sagan, The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark

[sserpente]

The Weight of a Promise - Part II

Synopsis: One month has passed since you reluctantly became Lord Gortash's concubine. You ought to hate him--yet your heart seems to disagree.

A/N: When inspiration strikes…you gotta strike back! Took a bit longer than I expected but here we go! :D

You can read Part I here!

Words: 2523 Warnings: violence, blood, mentions of prostitution, concubine!Reader

“Good morning, dear. I take it you’ve had sweet dreams?”

You stirred, eyes flying open. You were warm, and comfortable. Cosy. Your head was resting on Gortash’s naked chest, his right arm pressing you close against his body. You had gotten so used to his presence and the intimacy between you that you didn’t even flinch away when his fingertips ghosted over your bare shoulder but instead…took relish in it.

“Morning…”

One whole month. You had been keeping an eye on the calendar on Gortash’s desk. You were surprised, to say the least. Part of you had suspected he would grow tired of you after a few days and move on to the next whore he’d be given for free. Perhaps one that would throw herself at him.

Alas, as much as you hated to admit it, you had begun to enjoy his company. Enver Gortash was as insufferable as he was megalomaniacal. But he was charming, too. No wonder the city gladly accepted him as its hero and saviour.

His mask was perfect. You very much doubted he truly did have a heart for the homeless and the poor though. Only yesterday had you overheard him talk about increasing the tax rates for small businesses for more profit to put into his Steel Watch. Now that you spent so much time with him, you would have believed his chivalry too had you not known the truth. A good man did not keep concubines, not like this. A good man did not have rumours spread about him worshipping one of the dead three.

And yet, despite everything, part of you was growing…grateful. He’d kept his promise. Thanks to him, you barely remembered what hunger was now. He had gotten you so many dresses you could never decide what to wear and every night, you shared his bed, warm and comfortable, nestled underneath his soft sheets.

The sex was phenomenal, of course. Just like the very first time he had claimed you, you would be lying if you insisted it wasn’t a pleasurable experience for you. Only it was empty, meaningless. Why else would he keep you around if not for a wet hole to fuck when he was overcome with lust?

The more time you were forced to spend with him, the more you realised that you wanted him to like you for more than your body. To know that you were more than an object for him to play with and entertain himself with and to convince yourself and your stupid feelings that he was not the villain you took him for. To soothe your own conscience.

It could be Stockholm Syndrome, you thought, chewing on your lower lip. But then again, he had told you that you were free to go the very day you arrived, made it seem like it had been your own choice to become a slave to his most carnal desires in exchange for your basic human needs to be met.

The mornings all started the same. You and Gortash had breakfast together, after that he tended to his archduke business and you remained in bed for a while longer, reading the books he owned. He’d call you over at some point, eager for your company—or your body.

As of right now, he was finished with his duties for the day. After a rich lunch, he’d insisted on taking a walk with you by the sea near Wyrm’s Rock to take his mind off things, a Steel Watcher always in close vicinity to protect him.

“You are not focusing at all, are you, dear? Could you at least put in a little bit of effort? Make it a challenge for me!”

You blinked. You’d been staring at the lance board for what must have been several minutes with your knees tucked and your chin resting between them. Gortash had insisted you played with him tonight. Only you had no idea how.

“I don’t know how to play,” you admitted.

Amusement flashed over Gortash’s handsome face. “You don’t know how to play lance board? Truly?”

You shook your head.

He took a deep breath. “Well, in that case…it is rather simple. There are six pieces in the game that—”

“Why did you increase the tax rates?” You couldn’t help it. The question left your lips before you could stop yourself. You were curious.

Gortash paused, momentary surprise marking his features. “And since when exactly, pray tell, do I discuss political matters with my concubine?”

“It’s just a question. I overheard you passing the bill.”

“You mean you were eavesdropping.”

You frowned. “You knew I was right there.”

“Ah, yes.” He chuckled. But then, nothing.

“So?”

“Protection is expensive, my dear. My Steel Watch requires constant maintenance. Maintenance that requires materials. Materials that cost money.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Pardon me?”

“I’ve seen the documents. You have two vaults at the Counting House. Two vaults that are bulging with gold.” You’d caught a glimpse at the numbers, black ink on a fresh roll of parchment one morning while he’d made you keep his cock warm for him at his desk. You swallowed. “If you truly had the city’s best interest at heart you would be reaching into your own pockets to help out. That is true charity.”

Gortash raised an eyebrow. He appeared amused, if anything. “I am giving the citizens of Baldur’s Gate a purpose. By contributing in the form of taxes, they are contributing to keeping the city and themselves safe. And unlike my own fortunes, tax money is in constant circulation.”

You scoffed. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself.”

“I will not have you criticize my rule, my dear. Were you a lady or an adviser of mine, I could have your head for this without anyone batting an eyelash.”

Too far. You swallowed. So much for trying to convince yourself he was not a villain. “I apologise.”

“Good. Now, as I said. There are six types of pieces in the game. The first—”

Gortash was interrupted yet again. This time, however, by an airborne knife knocking the piece he pointed to straight to the ground where it shattered into a dozen pieces.

“Playing with your whore instead of working? You disappoint me, lordling.”

Gortash stiffened visibly. “Orin.”

Your eyes widened when you turned to face the unwanted visitor. She was as pale as the moon itself, with white creamy eyes piercing your soul. And her clothes…where they made of…skin? She staggered closer on bare feet, retrieving her dagger.

“You’ll find I have made much progress with our operation. But unlike you, I am a man of true entertainment. Uninterrupted murder is not up my alley.”

You blinked. Murder? What in the hells was he talking about?

“You are losing your focus, lordling. Do you need a reminder?”

Before you had processed what was happening, Orin grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you flush against her. The smell of rotten meat and blood filled your nostrils, the blade of her dagger pressing into your skin. Her hands were ice-cold.

You gasped for air, paralysed. You willed your legs to kick her, your fingers to scratch her, your head to shatter her chin…but your body did not obey. Fear wrapped its icy claws around you, preventing you from taking action.

One wrong movement…and you would die. Your eyes found Gortash’s, yours pleading, begging. Surely, he would not let her harm you, surely, he would care if you lived after having shared the bed with him so many times…

“Now don’t be ridiculous, Orin. She’s my concubine. The only thing you will accomplish by killing her is making a mess of my office. I can always get a new one at the snap of my fingers.”

Your face fell, heart skipping several beats in a row. Not because of your fear now—but because it broke. Your lips parted. Was that truly how he felt after you’d spread your legs for him, listened to his sorrows, and kept him company? He’d promised to treat you well. Discarding you to the first bloodthirsty killer—whoever this Orin was—would break that promise after all.

“Well…then you won’t mind if I slit her throat? Bathe in her sweet blood and feast on her intestines? Would you still like to fuck her then, lordling?”

For just a second, you believed to catch a glimpse of actual panic glistening in his dark eyes. It was a fleeting moment, quickly replaced by a mask of steel.

“Orin, no, stop it!”

The woman laughed, the stench of stale blood almost making you gag as she pressed the blade even further against your delicate skin until you could feel a slight burn and something warm and sticky running down your throat.

“Orin!” You had not imagined it. There was panic swinging in his voice too now.

With a start, she removed her dagger from your throat and pushed you. You landed on your hands and knees on the hard stone floor, a pained cry escaping your lips due to the impact.

“With Ketheric Thorm dead, you should be on your guard, lordling. Because right now, your little plan is falling apart. And I am so very eager to spill blood in your chambers.”

“Control yourself, Orin. Ketheric’s death is a temporary setback. Once the Netherstone is back in our possession, we have nothing to fear and everything will go according to plan.”

You felt pathetic, cowering on the cold floor and listening to the conversation. You only understood half of what they were saying. Netherstones? What plan? And who was Ketheric Thorm?

“I will gut you if not, Gortash.” She disappeared in a mist of black and red as if her flesh erupted into a million pieces before evaporating.

Only now did you realise how heavily you were breathing. Gortash bent down, one of his hands resting on your shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

“No! No, I’m not alright!” you exclaimed, biting back a sob.

“You would have let her kill me!”

“I would not.”

“Yes! That’s what you said!” Another sob, one you were unable to hold back. You were trembling. You could feel a small trickle of blood running down your cleavage right between your breasts.

Gortash grabbed a hold of your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Showing her I care for you would have been showing her weakness and that I cannot afford. I apologise you were caught between the lines.”

Care.

“How am I supposed to believe that? Am I not a means to an end? You keep acting like I should be grateful you took me in and gave me a roof over my head in exchange for sex and now I almost…” You did not dare finish the thought. Died.

“You stupid girl. Do you truly think I would keep just any woman around my private quarters where I conduct important city business? Do you think I would share my private bed with just any prostitute?”

“I…I…” You hesitated. He was not wrong.

“I am not the kind of man to pursue, my dear. I learned the hard way you simply have to take what you want in life. I liked you. So I had you brought here.”

“Why didn’t you just say so? Why must everything you do be a power trip?”

“A power trip? Exercising dominance is crucial to survive in this world. I want you here, by my side. Is that not enough? What else do you want me to tell you?”

He helped you up, retrieving a cloth from the cupboard next to a wash bowl. The gentleness with which he wiped at your throat and your chest to clean the blood off of you surprised you so much yet another sob escaped you.

“I…I want you to tell me…you care about me? I’m not just a whore you can easily replace?”

“I don’t want any of the other whores. I wanted you. And I still do. I have no reason to lie to you, my dear. And you care about me too. I can see it in your eyes. You like the things we do together. Am I right?”

You nodded, unable to utter words for a moment.

“I hate myself for it.”

“Oh? And why is that, my dear?”

“You’re not a good person, Gortash. I can see that. I can feel it with every fibre of my being.”

“But…?”

“But…”

He threw the cloth away and cupped your face, planting a tender kiss on your lips.

“I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t…”

He smirked. He understood.

“I will have some servants fetched to run you a hot bath. I have some business to attend to. Then I will join you.”

“Gortash?”

“No.” He lifted a hand, a thoughtful expression decorating his handsome features for a moment. “I want you to call me by my first name when we’re in private. Enver.”

You frowned, lips parting in shock. The archduke of Baldur’s Gate wanted you to…call him by his first name?

“Enver.” You tasted the name on your tongue. It felt strange and yet…oddly familiar.

“That’s better.”

“Who is Orin? And don’t even think about telling me it doesn’t concern me given she just almost killed me.”

Gortash sighed. “She is…the Chosen of Bhaal, the god of murder and a reluctant ally of mine.”

Your eyes widened, shock rippling through you. Bhaal? The god of murder? One of the dead three?

“And who is…was…Ketheric Thorm?”

“The Chosen of Myrkul, a general who ruled over the Shadow Cursed Lands. Another reluctant ally.” Myrkul. He too was one of the dead three. The rumours you had heard about Gortash… Could that possibly mean…

“Go-…Enver…what deity do you worship?”

He smiled at you wickedly. “You have a sharp mind indeed, my dear. You might just be able to best me in a game of lance board in time.”

“Tell me what deity you worship.”

“You already know, do you not? You have asked me before, when we first met. And I am indeed, my dear, the Chosen of Bane. I will lead this city to glory.”

You took a step back, shock spreading in your veins like spiked vines. “What is this plan? What are the Netherstones?”

“That’s enough questions for now. Go and rest. The servants will be with you shortly.” He strode off, yet before he wrapped his hands around the doorknob, he turned his head and said, “Let me say it again: You belong by my side now, my dear. You have my protection. You have nothing to fear from me—or Orin, I will make sure of that. You might not agree with my methods but you cannot fight your own heart. You can trust me.”

With that, he was gone. Another promise. One that the growing butterflies in your stomach hoped he would never break. You belong by my side now, my dear.

You could leave, he had said a month ago. You should leave. Instead, you found yourself heading over to the wooden tub get rid of your now bloody dress.

[sunny44]

Lemonade for Carlos

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x wife!reader x mom!reader

Warnings: mentions of difficulties of getting pregnant

Summary: Your’s and Carlos daughter wants to sell lemonade to buy him a birthday present, so you help her set up a lemonade stand.

I was just finishing the pancakes for breakfast when I heard Eva's rapid footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Mommy." She says, entering the kitchen. "Can I buy a present for Dad? For his birthday."

"Sure, have you thought about what you want to buy? We can go today if you want."

"But I don't have any money."

"I'll buy it for you, my love don’t worry."

"No, I want to buy it with my own money."

"And how are you going to get this money?" I asked, putting her in her chair and leaving the plate of pancakes on the table.

"I'm going to work." She says innocently.

"What are you going to work at?" I asked, pouring her a juice.

"Selling lemonade, a friend of mine from school said she got money to buy a doll by selling lemonade."

"Do you want to sell lemonade in front of the house?" She agrees.

"Please mommy, tell me I can." She looks at me with those same big brown eyes as her father.

"All right, we'll buy things after breakfast and set up your stand in front of the house."

...

After breakfast we get out of the house and went to the store to buy the necessary supplies, we bought lemons, sugar and colorful paper for a sign.

Eva couldn't contain her excitement as we set up a lemonade stand in our front yard.

After setting up we sat down and waited for the first people to come by and buy.

She wanted to write on the sign "Lemonade for Carlos" and when people came to buy she explained that she was selling it to buy a birthday present for her dad.

Obviously her cute face and speech moved people who ended up buying the lemonades and I had also made some cookies and brownies that she was selling too.

We were at the end of the day when Carlos arrived, as the race was here in Spain this weekend, the team was organizing here so he was in a meeting all day.

"What are you two doing?" He asks and as soon as she sees him she starts to smile.

"Daddy." She runs up to him who, after taking her in his arms, walks towards me and starts laughing at the sign.

"Lemonade for Carlos?" He asks.

"Yes, mommy and I sold lemonade so I could buy you your birthday present." she said excitedly and I could see that he loved her attitude.

"Oh baby, I love what you've done." She smiles and hugs him tighter.

"Well, we've finished work, so what do you say we go in, have a shower and celebrate with pizza?" They both agreed and that's what we did.

...

Eva was already asleep and I was lying on our bed sending the photos of the lemonade stand to Carlos' mother, who thought it was very funny that her granddaughter had come up with the idea.

"Are you going to sleep yet?" He asked, lying down next to me.

"Actually, I was going to read a bit, but if you want to talk." I say, putting the book in my nightstand and turning to him.

"Whose idea was that? The lemonade thing?"

"Your daughter's." I say and he smiles. "She came down today asking if she could buy you a present and I said I'd give her some money but she didn't want to and said she'd work to get the money."

"I love that little girl more than anything." He says sighing and smiling at the ceiling.

I remember very well the day I told him I was pregnant, we'd been trying for a while but it wasn't working. It had been a difficult few months for us, with the problem of getting pregnant, Carlos busy with work and stressed that the Ferrari wasn't good this year.

So I had tests done because I thought the problem was me and that I couldn't get pregnant but when the tests came back clean it added more stress to Carlos because he started to think the he was the problem.

So on the day he went for the test I stayed at home and took advantage of the fact that I was feeling unwell and took the test out of conscience and it turned out I was pregnant. I did a few more to make sure and when they all came back positive I spent the whole time Carlos was away crying and when he came back I told him and he started crying with me, both with relief and happiness.

"I know you do." I said, hugging him. "And I love you for it."

"Do you want more?"

"More what?"

"Children." He says, taking me by surprise.

It's not as if I hadn't already thought about having more children, but Carlos never showed that he wanted more. I think the fact that he gave Eva all the attention in the world made me think that he only wanted her.

"Maybe, do you want more?"

"Before Eva I thought about having more but then we had the problem of having her so when you got pregnant I was content that we'd just have her and I put all my attention and effort into making that little girl happy, but then over the years I started to think that I want to do it again and that I want her to have someone else with her when we're not here anymore." He says sincerely.

"I also want more children with you." He smiles."I never said anything because you never showed that you wanted more children and I see how dedicated you are to Eva."

"But if you wanted more children, why didn't you tell me?"

"Because as much as I wanted to, it's not something I'd regret if I didn't, I love you and our family so much and I am really happy with what we have."

"I love you too and we don't need to decide anything now."

"I know." He smiles and kisses me.

"Daddy." We hear that little voice at the door. "Can I come in?"

"Yes." He says, pulling away from me and looking at the door to see her come in clutching a Lightning McQueen plush Charles gave her since she calls him Uncle McQueen. "What happened?"

"It's just that I missed you and I was wondering if I could sleep with you and mommy." She says and I can see Carlos melting with love.

"Of course you can, my love." He says and she goes to his side, who picks her up and puts her in the middle of us. "I love you, you know that?"

"Yes, I love you too." She says, closing her eyes. "Good night mommy, good night daddy."

"Good night, baby." We kissed her forehead and all went to sleep.

Bonus scene!

Y/nsainz instagram post

Liked by @carlossainz, @charlesleclerc, @reysvdec and others 92730

Y/nsainz “Lemonade for Carlos”, who wants it?

@carlossainz can I have one please?

@y/nsainz yess you can daddy - Eva

@charlesleclerc can uncle McQueen have one too?

@y/nsainz yess you can uncle McQueen - Eva

@Thesainzfamily that’s the best seller ever

@reysvdec muy hermosa

Liked by @y/nsainz and @carlossainz

[fantasyinallforms]

✨I did some practice writing angry consort Bilbo, and it didn't turn out half bad. Slightly cracked and a tad occ for Thranduil but it felt good enough to share. 1.1k words. ✨ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bilbo lunged at Thranduil. 

"What is this!" He shouted, clutching a wrinkled piece of parchment in his hands. Things had been so calm. Years of quiet interrupted only by minor disagreements that were always resolved peacefully, but what he held in his hand at present was slander. 

Thorin caught him around the waist before he could connect, and Bilbo fought him like a caged cat, tears of frustration and hurt in his eyes. 

"I had your back! I offered you, counsel! I defended you against others who looked to sow discord between our people! Was this what you thought of me the whole time?" Bilbo had never been this angry. Not at Lily Bottoms for stealing his tart recipe, not at the page who ruined an entire nearly finished book with a dropped bottle of ink, not even at Lobelia for stealing his mother's silver spoons. 

He kicked and demanded that Thorin release him, putting weight behind his attempts, but his husband never let go, only tucking his nose into his hair with a whisper of apology. 

"Was it because our friendship started with dishonesty? Something I needlessly apologized for and made right time and time again? LOOK AT ME, DAMNIT!" Bilbo screamed, and finally, the elven king looked at him with a hint of shame in his eyes. 

"I had not thought through my actions or my words," Thranduil replied, unusually cowed by the sight of his rage yet still his eyes were callous. 

"How very evident," Bilbo sneered. "You have always seen conspiracy where none existed. All I did was try to warn you. I tried to counsel you when I knew others wouldn't. You surround yourself with those who revere you and will not hold a mirror to your actions. Anyone who doesn't see you in that light, you outcast." 

"I never asked for your opinions. I simply sought to share the stresses of leading my people without unsolicited advice." Thranduil shot back 

"You never had to ask! Has the definition of friendship strayed in the last 8000 years? I saw your mind swaying dangerously. It was my duty to say something. You are a leader. There is always more than just yourself at stake. If that burden of responsibility has grown too much, then hand the crown to Legolas and be done with it!" 

"You say that there is no conspiracy, yet there you hold the evidence that there are plenty I can not trust." Thranduil spat.

Bilbo balled up the parchment still in his hand and threw it at Thranduil's feet. He was no longer fighting to get his hands on the elf king's person, but Thorin still stood by his side like a ridged statue, his hand on his arm in comfort. He knew Thorin only held him back for his own sake. He wouldn't let him react out of anger, knowing he would regret his action later as much as he might want to let Bilbo blacken an elven eye. 

"I hold this in my hand because I earned the loyalty of the people closest to me. You should have known Bard was honorable, that his conscience would not have let your words go unchallenged. That you would take my kindness and twist it into animosity tells me more than I cared to know. More than that, in the months since I sent you my letter of warning, you acted as though nothing was amiss, sending correspondence and even asking for my opinion as you always have. By spreading these lies, you would seek to shatter the very peace you helped build!" 

"What am I getting out of any of this other than responsibility? I watch from The Greenwood as Dale and Erebor grow in power. None of that prosperity comes my way. You, and those like you seek to take from me all I have built and make me an outcast in lands I have inhabited far longer. I know it in my heart." 

Many times over the years, he worried about Thranduil. Time and stress burdened people in different ways; it mattered not the race they came from. Thorin, Thranduil, and even Lord Elrond had faced hard lives and the same water that softened potatoes hardened eggs. It didn't make the bitter sting of betrayal taste any better. Thranduil should know better, and Bilbo wondered if he was saying that because, to some extent, he always put elves on a pedestal, and to see one act as such was a hard truth that could not be veiled once revealed. Age and intelligence were no measure of wisdom. How do you change someone's mind when they refuse to see past their own version of the truth? 

"You betrayed my trust. You spoke ill of me behind my back and tried to get my friends to think less of me. You would attempt to alienate me from a community that you know sustains me to sate your own vanity. For what? The crime of caring about you, caring about your future! I can tolerate hate and vitriol said to my face, but I can't abide words said behind my back. Trust, once broken, is hard to get back." Bilbo held in the chest-wrenching sobs that lingered underneath his anger. It was a hurt that would sit in his chest for some time after Thranduil returned to his home.

"Then what of this community you claim exists between the elves, men, and dwarves? Even if I made amends, is this to be the end of our friendship?" Thranduil's face was unreadable, and Bilbo wanted to slap him. The bastard couldn't even apologize, not that he had expected one. 

I will not disparage you to others or vilify you further than whatever damage your pettiness has done by itself. I have only ever wanted to build a time of peace where we can trade and practice our crafts. I will not let you steal that vision from me. Dissent would only lead to war, and I have no interest in tearing the lives of my people apart. As far as our friendship, that is to be determined by you and what actions will take from here. Any words you could share beyond that mean little.” 

Everyone in the room seemed to understand that the end of his sentence marked the end of the conversation. Bilbo turned and sank into Thorin's waiting arms, letting his husband do the work of keeping him upright. 

"And Thranduil," Bilbo called, still not looking at him. "Take the soured gift you brought with you. I'm beginning to find your generosity inconsistent." ~~~

(At several points Tumblr auto-correct tried to change Thranduil's name to tranquil and taquito. I find this hilarious)

[ad0rechuu]

JUNG WOOYOUNG’S SUPERPOWER. ━━ JWY

prompts / plot. ━━━━━ excitedly grabbing each other's hands during a concert and jumping up and down together & good night kisses

requested by @jaehunnyy. ━━━━━ gn! reader x non idol! jung wooyoung , fluff , staring: only wooyoung & yn , tw: one (1) mention of anxiety , wc: 671 , notes: thank you for being my first request chippie and sorry that it took so long but i loved writing wooyoung and ur request !

[ listening to . . . ] coloring book by the regrettes

masterlist | credits to @ari-shipping-stuff for being my beta reader / writer <33

YOUR BEST FRIEND, JUNG WOOYOUNG, HAD A SUPERPOWER.

He had shown up at your home last minute with two concert tickets for his and your favorite band in his hand and basically dragged you to the venue no matter how much you scolded and nagged at him for his impulsivity. Still, as the venue filled up with more excited fans, you felt your heart racing.

And before any negative thoughts could ruin your night, he had cupped your hands in own, jumping up and down giddily as soon as the music started.

The smile on his beautiful face was almost blinding. You could barely hear his voice as he sung with the band wholeheartedly. You knew it would sound good to you anyway. Even if it wasn't the best, you knew it wouldn’t matter to you because he was Wooyoung.

It made you realize the sheer strength of his power.

Wooyoung’s superpower wasn’t anything like you saw in the media like teleportation, super speed, or telekinesis.

His superpower was greater than that. It made you feel comfortable no matter how deep you could talk yourself into anxiety. His superpower effortlessly lifted you up when life dragged you down.

AS THE TWO OF YOU off the bus and walked the familiar way home, ecstatic from the concert, you couldn’t help but replay the memories of the two of you dancing together.

The entire evening was a challenge to keep your eyes off the boy by your side, and it still proved difficult as you two set foot on the street heading towards home.

A strange feeling bubbled up in your belly as you spotted your home in the near distance; you realized your night with Wooyoung would have to end soon.

A part of you wanted to make an excuse just to keep him next to you. Just a little while longer. But after turning to him and seeing the yawn stretching across his face, you decided against it.

Both of you stopped in front of the familiar building and met each other's eyes.

You looked down at the floor, breaking the silence. “Thank you for taking me out tonight, Woo. I had a great time with you at the concert.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled warmly. “I’m glad you did. We should do it again soon. I really enjoy spending time with you.”

You echoed his words with a nod. “I really enjoy spending time with you too!”

He smiled at the fondness in your voice. It matched the emotions in his dark eyes. He pointed in the direction of the door with his head.

“It’s late. You should probably go in before it gets cold.” He didn’t want the moment to end, but he didn’t want you getting sick on his conscience either.

“You’re right, I guess.” You looked around as if you could see the air cooling, the strange feeling only getting stronger as you spoke. “Well, goodnight!”

He laughed again as you turned around, feeling the exact same need in the pit of his stomach. “Goodnight.”

You opened the gate but hadn’t even taken two steps in when you heard the call of your name again.

“Yn, wait!” Wooyoung called nervously after you, seeming to wait for you to come closer again.

His cheeks reddened when you met his eyes. “I, uh—”

He didn’t get to finish whatever he was trying to say as he felt two lips fall clumsily on his own interrupting him. You cupped his cheeks, kissing him softly.

His superpowers didn’t warn him of this moment— the moment Wooyoung had been dreaming for months about.

You two parted after a few seconds. But it felt like something entirely new bloomed between you when your lips connected under the streetlights, the moon and stars as your only witness.

One last shy smirk graces your pretty features before you turned around once more. Your giddy yet knowing voice reached his ears for the last time that night; to him, it sounded like a melody.

“Sweet dreams, Woo!”

networks. @cromernet

notes. i loved writing wooyoung so much i wanna do it more!! but its my first official stand alone ateez fic and i am so nervous so please leave feedback! also please let me know if i got the tag list right! also credits to lilo for the listening to part of the lay out check out her works!

taglist. @yuyusuyu @bluehwale-main @seonghwaddict @tocupid @leo-seonghwa @aestheticsluut @starryunho @mrowwww @i-luvsang | send me an ask to be added to the general obey me or kpop taglist (or both ofc)

[fr3sh-tragedies]

Beautiful

[BATIM/BATDR] Alice Angel x Female Reader

Summary: Alice has a meltdown after catching a glimpse of her reflection, and you're there to comfort her.

Word Count: 2.09k Content Warnings: Mentions of insecurity Category: Slight Angst + Heavy Fluff || Oneshot

[A/N] #1: To make up for all the angst from last week, this one has heavy fluff instead. A very small amount of angst, but it's quickly resolved.

[A/N] #2: Thank you to everyone who sent in a request! I promise I'll try to get to them as soon as I can.

Enjoy!

Soft scribbling filled the silent space in the study, forming the words on Alice’s mind and printing them below the side of her palm against a thin sheet of paper. A small huff prompted by her exhaustion slipped past her tattered lips. As she finished writing out notes for her latest experiments, her free hand lifted far enough to rub at the one eye that still remained intact, which had fallen heavy with fatigue. Over the hours following the numerous tests she had carried out, Alice had shut herself in her study, curses spilling easily below her breath with each annotation of what had gone wrong.

It seemed as of lately that none of her experiments were going right. Even as she burdened herself with the task of figuring every detail out on her own, she still couldn’t understand what was causing the fault in her studies. Her mind had wandered here and there, the spark of want in her igniting the idea of asking you for help. Each time, however, she discarded the thought immediately. The stress was already taxing enough on her, and she didn’t want to share the weight of it all with the one person she cared about so deeply.

Because of her late nights in her study, Alice hardly ever had the time to be with you. The guilt ate away at her conscience constantly, but she knew that the moment she could understand the issues halting her progress, she’d be able to finally focus on you again. Even so, when she’d come to bed long after you had fallen asleep, she couldn’t prevent the pang of sorrow she felt, knowing you had likely stayed up late to wait for her.

Unfortunately, this only led to her spending more time away from you and trying to perfect her theories in her lab. In her mind, each Butcher Gang member that she had ripped apart and dissected was one step closer to being able to return her attention solely to you the way she craved. Every pulsating heart that writhed in her frigid hand was another markup in progress, and every piercing needle that let a concoction flow through the veins of one of the poor souls that had fallen prey to the Angel aided the approaching future of once again being by your side at every moment.

Another heavy sigh left her as she let her pencil fall back to the desk. Slowly, she leaned back into the chair to stretch with a yawn.

Surely a small break wouldn’t hurt. She knew you were in the kitchen preparing dinner, so it would do her good to at least wander out to give her mind a rest from the work piling up on her desk. You brought her peace, and at that moment, that was all she needed.

Granting herself another brief glance over her notes, she ultimately tucked them into a folder and slipped it into the lowest desk drawer, then finally rose to her feet. A small smile graced her lips as she made her way around the desk and toward the door. Her eye peered over at the rows of books lining her shelves, though her motions faltered and eventually stopped altogether when she caught a glimpse of herself in a small vanity mirror she had sworn she had covered.

Frozen in place, all she could do was stare through the reflection, grimacing at the ghastly sight of her torn mouth, gouged out eye, and the large mass erupting from the side of her skull. Instantly, tears welled up in her eye as wave after wave of insecurity crashed over her. Hours seemed to have passed, and she soon found herself curled up on the sofa with her knees tucked into her chest. She couldn’t recall moving there, though it wasn’t a pressing concern in her mind.

Trembling hands lifted from clutching at her shins to cradle her face as she unwillingly wept. Soon, her palms were coated with salty tears that began to trickle down her wrists and drip against her lap. Past the sound of her heart hammering against her ribs, she managed to make out the sound of footsteps nearing the door.

You strode toward Alice’s study, intending to let her know that dinner was almost ready and to make sure she was okay. As you grew closer, however, you could hear quiet sobs behind the door, instantly prompting your nerves to spike. You quickened your pace and gently knocked on the door to gain her attention. “Alice?” You uttered shakily. “Is everything alright? May I come in?” Before she had the chance to answer, you had already reached for the handle and twisted it, a soft push letting you enter and reveal the room. You paid no mind to the mountains of paperwork resting on her desk and instead turned your attention to the whimpering woman wavering on the sofa.

Within a moment, you had sat down next to her and pulled her against your side, instantly rubbing her shoulder in a soothing manner. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? What happened?” She sputtered out a few words, none of which were discernible. You shushed her and let the tips of your fingers stroke through her jet black locks, ignoring the ink that stained your hand. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. Just breathe for me, alright?”

There was no reply, but you watched and felt as she tried her best to suck in a deep breath, only to hiccup and cough instead. She attempted again, finally managing to breathe in all the way, albeit very shakily.

Softly, you gave her words of encouragement as she steadied her ragged breathing, which finally evened out after some time. She let out a sniffle and wiped at her nose and eye, her head turning away to avert her gaze from yours. Almost hurt by the action, you let the pads of your thumb and index finger gently take hold of her chin and turn her back to face you. “Hey,” you whispered, your hand then sliding up to carefully caress her face. With each featherlike stroke of your thumb against her cheek, her tensed form seemed to ease up more.

“Did something happen? Why were you crying, love?” Another grimace painted her lips as she glanced down with a worn out sigh. “Well, I…” She paused, seemingly unable to form the words. Your free hand softly clasped hers and gave a reassuring squeeze. The motion alone helped her visibly loosen up. “I was leaving the room to go see you and take a break, but I caught my–” She hiccuped as another round of tears began to form. “I caught my reflection,” she squeaked out as she shuffled back to hide her face once more.

Heart now aching, you frowned and peeked up at the shelf carrying the small mirror. She had been doing so well with her confidence. Her self-image seemed to be steady, and she had managed to check her complexion here and there without much issue. Seeing her in that moment, however, brought the entirety of the concern you had long forgotten rushing back.

“Alice, hun, you know you’re still beautiful.” She scoffed. “It’s easy to say that when you aren’t the one who has to live with half of her face torn apart,” she sneered loudly with a sense of venom beneath each syllable, finally able to bite back her hiccups and coughs. Even as she retorted with such fury, the regret instantly made itself known in her features. She shrunk further into herself.

This wasn’t what she had wanted. Not only had she been neglecting your wants and needs over the months, but she had also begun to start petty arguments that resulted in her losing her patience with you for things that weren’t your fault. She knew they weren’t your fault, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself in the heat of the moment. “I’m sorry.” She stared down into her lap and covered her face again. “I’m so sorry, darling, I promise I’m not meaning to be so blunt with you. Things have just been horrendous lately, and seeing my reflection like that? It just… “

Her trembling body stilled when your warm hand returned to her shoulder. “I know,” you whispered. “I’m not mad. I understand why you’ve been so stressed, and I know you’re going to lash out until that stress is gone.”

You scooted closer to her and placed a small peck to her cheekbone. “I love you, hun. You don’t need to apologize, okay?” She whimpered at your words and nodded, turning her body enough to let her head fall against your shoulder. “I love you, too.”

You smiled at her and tugged her closer, your arms wrapping around her torso to let you rub soothingly at her back. With each small sniffle that slipped from her, it almost felt as though she was repeatedly moving closer, and you wondered if she kept thinking she could get as close to you as physically possible somehow. “But can I tell you something?” You questioned at length.

All she could do in response was nod. “Well, it’s actually a few things, but it’s all part of a bigger picture.” At that, she leaned back enough to stare at you in pure confusion. “Bigger picture?” She echoed. You nodded.

“It’s kind of like a list on why I think you should love who you see in the mirror.” Her face flustered and she instantly returned her face to the crook of your neck to hide it. “Oh.”

“Hm, where to start? There’s so many things I love about you.

“Your cute little nose, your small beauty mark on your cheek, the beauty of your eye, especially when it lights up when you get excited over something.

“I love the softness of your lips when you kiss me or press a kiss to my head or cheek. I love your strong jawline I can easily bury my face into if I want to get your attention. I adore your horns and halo I can toy with when we’re cuddling in bed, and your hair I can brush out, even though it stains the brush with ink sometimes.”

She scoffed and playfully shoved your shoulder, earning a laugh from you before you continued.

“I love the way your eye softens when we’re staying up late at night together to talk about whatever comes to mind, and the way your lips curl into a smile when I talk about something I’m passionate about. I love how your nose scrunches up when you laugh or when you find something gross while we’re gathering supplies, and I absolutely love your voice. It’s so comforting to hear you talk, and I always immediately crash the moment you start singing to me at night. I love everything about you, Alice.”

A moment passed, and all you could hear was soft sniffling combined with the feeling of warm tears dripping against your shoulder. The tips of her fingers dug into your shirt as she trembled almost unnoticeably. Just as you parted your lips to speak, she leaned back and wiped at her eye.

“What about…” She motioned toward that tattered features on the left side of her face. “This?”

You grinned at her and cupped both sides of her face. With a small tug, you leaned her closer to yourself and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. When the two of you pulled away, you found her staring at you expectantly. “Honestly?” You started, earning a nod.

“I think it makes you look badass.”

She snorted in surprise and chuckled, teasingly pushing you back as she ran a hand down her face. “You are such a dork,” she finally mumbled between giggles. You grinned back at her again and leaned forward, wrapping your arms around her shoulders. “Yeah, but I’m your dork. And you know I’m right about you being badass, too.”

Even as she rolled her eyes, she couldn’t bite back the smirk that crossed her lips. Her hands slid up from their place against her lap and grasped lightly at your hips before reaching back further to partially wrap her arms around you. “Okay, okay, darling,” she whispered before pressing another gentle kiss to your lips. As your words set in, she could feel her confidence slowly rebuild itself. It would still be a while before she could look at herself again, but she knew you’d always be there for her regardless. “You’re right.”

[kookygranger]

Sparks Fly

Ghost!Steve Harrington x Witch!Reader

Series Masterlist

700 words

You rub the pinched spot in your lower back, waiting for the wheat pack in your microwave to finish heating up as you stare at the half-packed boxes and all the little bits and pieces that still need to be wrapped and boxed up.

“I can help.”

His voice makes you jump, still not used to one outside your head interrupting your space. You turn and watch him over your shoulder, arms crossed and biceps squished under his tight striped polo.

“Go on then.”

His eyes flicker towards you, wavering in his unfounded confidence before he walks to your desk. His hand stretches out, veins that seem to become clearer every day moving under skin that could easily pass for sun-kissed and animated, if anyone else could see him. It flexes for a moment above a ceramic teapot, hesitating before he makes a grabbing motion that passes right through it.

You click the side of your cheek, “Close one,” and move back to the kitchen when you hear the beep of the microwave, missing the way Steve’s shoulders deflate. You can feel his presence behind you as you press the heat into your lower back, sighing with relief.

“So uh, why is it you’re leaving again? This place really…fits you.”

You turn around, watching him take in all the tweaks of personality around your kitchen with a shoulder to the doorframe.

“Some of the coven is parting ways, and I sided with Rhi and her vampire lover. I can’t stay here with a good conscience, besides,” you shrug as you place a kettle over the stove, “it’s just stuff. It can all come with me.”

Steve hums, and you turn back towards him.

“What did that noise mean?”

“Nothin’” he shrugs, “Just I was wondering,” his hazel eyes burrow into your soul, making you squirm under his gaze, “can I come with you?” He shifts at the ill-hidden shock on your face.

“You want to come with me? Shouldn’t you be,” you waved your hand in the air, “moving to the next place? I thought you talked to Rhi?”

“I did. She told me to stop freaking you out and let the light consume me or something.”

“So?”

“I don’t want to. I wanna stay with you.”

You frown, “Oh.”

“Unless you don’t want me to,” he clears his throat. “I guess I could…go.”

You shake your head, “No, I mean–if you want to stay, you can. It’s your…afterlife.”

“And go with you?”

“If it’s what you want?”

“What do you want?”

You take a deep breath, your chest puffing before exhaling slowly. “I’ve almost gotten used to your…” warmth, “commentary.” He smirks and your eyes drift to the permanent shadow of fuzz that frames his pink lips. You wonder if he regrets not shaving on the day of his death.

“So, I’m coming with you?” You shrug in a non-committal yes, and his face morphs into a frown, “How do I do that?”

You roll your eyes, moving to grab a mug out of the cupboard as the water begins to boil. “Figure it out, ghost boy.” You can feel his smile without needing to see it, a tingle spreading down your spine in its wake every time.

***

The familiar warmth was the first thing you’d noticed when you’d walked into your new apartment, following a trail through to the living room until you came across his ethereal form, more real than ever, leaning against the wall. Arms and feet casually crossed with that smug smile plastered on his face.

“Found ya.”

It was closer to the city, your new place. An easier route to the nightlife and music scene but entirely lacking in the coating of magic that had been left over the hundreds of years you’d spent in the house situated in the coven’s community. It was a blank canvas, but you’d sprinkle some of that cosmic energy into the space in no time.

You groan as your back clicks, stretching out another day of moving pains and surveying your progress. You’d gotten the kitchen and essentials unpacked in one day, just books, records, frames and crystals left.

“Alright, I’m ordering takeout for dinner.” It was weird. No longer just talking to yourself. Feeling another presence in your space.

His hand reaches out in reflex, motioning to squeeze your arm, and you feel a hot point of contact, flinching at the zap that travels through your arm. Steve frowns, staring at where his hand had touched you, then looks back up at you, mirroring your look of shock.

“What the hell was that?”

[jamdoughnutmagician]

A Cut Above The Rest

Mechanic!Eddie x Hairdresser!Fem!Reader

Good As New (Part 2)

Summary:Just as he promised Eddie fixes up your car, and you take a visit to Hawkin's library in the hopes to get your business up and running once more.

Word Count:1,626

A/N:Let it be known that this author knows absolutely nothing about cars or mechanics, so please don't come for me lmaooo

<- Previous Part Next Part ->

Masterlist Series Masterlist

After making yourself comfortable in Robin’s spare bedroom the night before, you find yourself waking up a little later in the morning. 

Your head is buzzing with everything that happened. It wasn't just a terrible dream, he was just a terrible boyfriend. You push down the hurt you felt, not wanting to start the morning on a sour note.

Still in the pyjamas you wore to bed, you slide on your slippers and shuffle out of the bedroom.

"Morning Sleepy-head." Robin asks over her bowl of cereal, nodding over to the counter-top, telling you to help yourself to some breakfast. “Grab yourself a bowl!”

“Seriously Robin, Fruit loops?” you laugh, shaking your head at your friend’s choice over sugary breakfast cereal.

“What? I’m pretty sure it counts as one of my five-a-day!” She garbles over a mouthful of cereal. “Anyway, How’re you feeling?”

"I don’t think that’s true, Rob.” you say, making yourself comfortable on the couch beside her. “I'm holding up if that's what you mean" you chuckle half-heartedly, filling up a bowl of your own.

“So what’s the plan today?” 

“Well I’ve got to go over to the garage later on today, Eddie said he’d try to fix my car.” 

“Oh going to meet up with Eddie, are we?” Robin laughs, raising her eyebrows up and down, which earns her a matching laugh from you.

You shake your head at her, ignoring the insinuation that she was alluding to.

“Right! I should be off to work. Those books are not going to stack themselves.” Robin says, leaving her bowl in the kitchen sink, and grabbing her coat before heading out the door “The library waits for no woman!”

You busy yourself with tidying up to the apartment whilst Robin’s at work. You figure it’s the least you could do, since she’s letting you stay here.

Once you finish tidying up the place, you go to get changed out of your pyjamas, deciding on a simple pair of jeans and t-shirt, not wanting to be too dressed up for going to the garage.

You take a walk down the street where Eddie told you his mechanic garage was and sure enough there it is, Munson’s Motor Repairs.

You walk up to the garage and are immediately hit with the strong smell of motor oil that wafts through the air. 

"Excuse me, Ma'am? Can I help you?" You turn around to see where the voice is coming from and are met with an older man. The remnants of his grey hair are receding, and his faded flannel shirt is stained with dark grease spots, his bright blue eyes are surrounded by a few wrinkles as he offers you a kind smile.

"Um, I was looking for Eddie? He told me he works here? My car got taken in last night."

"Oh, so it's your old Chevette out the back?" He says nodding his head towards the garage's yard out the back.

"Yup, that would be the one, Mr…." You trail off, realising that you didn't yet know this man's name.

He wipes his hands on the oil-stained rag hanging from his jean's pockets before offering you his hand in a welcoming handshake.

"Munson. Wayne Munson" he introduces himself.

"..Looks like that old chevy just needed a new alternator.." Eddie said as he strolled into the shop from the back. "Hey! There you are! I just finished up on your car, the alternator needed replacing, it's as good as…" he trails off, he couldn't in all good conscience say your old car was as good as new. "Well, it's fixed anyway." he smiles. 

"Thank you so much Eddie!" You say, as you reach for your purse, "How much do I owe you for that?" 

"You're lucky your car is as old as it is, otherwise it might have been a lot more expensive to replace these bits. That'll be $90" he tells you.

You rifle through your purse and hand over the handful of notes to Eddie. 

"Thanks again Eddie! You're an absolute live-saver!" You squeal as you wrap your arms around him in a hug.

Eddie finds his heart warming. Fuck. Why did you have to be so cute?

He watches as you wave him goodbye, as you pull your car out of his garage.

“So, you wanna tell me why you’re giving this girl a $20 discount, or do I have to guess?” Wayne teases, standing with his hands on his hips.

Eddie flushes scarlet, heat rising from his chest and across his nose. Busted.

“I’ll work extra shifts next week to make up for it, I swear.” Eddie promises.

Wayne waves him off with a smile tugging at his lips, and a raspy chuckle.

“It’s alright son, I won’t tell anybody about your little crush” Wayne smirks, pretending to zip his mouth shut.

Robin is already home once you arrive back at the apartment, lounging comfortably on her sofa in front of the tv.

“Hey, thanks for cleaning up whilst I was at work.” She says turning to look at you over her shoulder. “How’d you get on in the garage? He fixed your car?”

“Yeah, he fixed my car…and…” you tell her, trailing off for a moment, thinking about how you had hugged him as you thanked him for his help. Oh god I hugged him! What on earth did I do that for?

"..and what?"  Robin prods, hanging on your every word.

"I-uh..I hugged him.." you say, the heat of embarrassment burning in your chest.

"Ooh! Scandalous!" Robin laughs "Should I buy my hat for the wedding now or later?"

You playfully smacked her in the shoulder.

"I'm serious, Rob! What if he thought I was being, like, creepy or something?" 

She turned to look at you, narrowing her eyes at your panicked state.

"Relax, it's just a hug, it doesn't have to mean anything, and besides if it's one thing I know about Eddie, it's that he totally wouldn't mind getting a hug, especially from you"

"What do you mean by that?" You question, your eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“You can’t tell me you never noticed how that guy used to look at you? He used to stare at the back of your head all the time in Ms. O’Donnell’s class!” Robin laughs.

“I can’t believe that you, my best friend, never said anything about it!” you shook your head at her, joining in on the laughs. 

"I guess I thought he'd eventually man up and ask you out. I'm honestly surprised that he never did" Robin explains.

"Hey Rob, do you mind if I come by the library with you tomorrow, I wanna make a few flyers, see if I can interest a few of the residents of Hawkins for a haircut. All of my clients are back in Chicago and I need to drum up business. I can help you pay the rent."

"Sure, come on down, I'm sure Margaret won't mind if you wanna leave a few flyers in the library, maybe put one up on the notice board."

The next day you drive Robin to her job in the Hawkins public library, parking your car in the parking lot.

Hawkin’s public library had been standing proud since 1894, even through the devastation of the great earthquake of 1986, the building still stands tall.

Walking in with Robin, she immediately goes over to the older lady already behind the front desk. Her silver hair is styled up, with loose curls gently falling around her face, and her wire frame glasses sit perched on the bridge of her nose.  

“Good morning, Margaret!” Robin shouts loudly and brightly. 

Margaret is all too quick to shush her with a finger to her lips, once again reminding Robin, as she does every time she comes into work, of the number one rule of being in a library is to be quiet.

“Sorry.” Robin cringes. “Margaret, this is my friend, Y/n." She introduces you.

You wave a little awkwardly, offering a kind smile to the older lady.

“It’s lovely to meet you, ma’am. I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of where your computers are, please?"

She points down the corridor between two rows of tall bookshelves, stacked full of book.

"Down there, right between Science Fiction and Fantasy. There's some computers set up in the tech lab, my dear."

"Thank you so much!"

You make your way down to the computer lab, and sit yourself down in front of the big desktop monitors. You spend a few moments to make sure your flyers are as perfect as they can be with all the services that you offer and a list of the prices, as well as your business phone number for people to call should they be interested. You print out a handful of copies, and kindly ask Margaret if it would be okay for you to pin a copy of one of your flyers to the library’s notice board.

“Go ahead, Dear. It’s what it’s there for!” Margaret smiles at you.

You pin your flyer to the cork-board before thanking her, and giving Robin a hug and letting her know that you’ll see her back at the apartment after work.

“Oh no! It’s a Friday night! I’m treating you to a night out. We’re going to The Hideout. They have a live band there, we can have a couple of drinks, it’ll be fun!” Robin promises. “And anyway, I think after what you’ve been through, I think you deserve to let loose and have a little fun.” 

Maybe she was right. Perhaps what you needed was a fun night out with your best friend to just unwind and forget all about your terrible ex-boyfriend. 

@sunflowerdaydreamer @xxhellfiregirlxx @penguinsandpotterheads @munsonology @seatnights @avalon-wolf @jesssssmaybankk

[wackytheorist]

Flickering lights, Fofoca in the middle of the night

-By someone who doesn't know how to title fanfics

Dreams are weird. Sometimes they feel neverending, trapping you inside a maze without an exit as you blindly prance around its corridors. Sometimes they reek with an odor of comfort, unfathomable in the repetitive void of reality.

The strangest thing about dreams is that you don't know that they are one until your awake.

Yuri has read all about dreams and what defines them, but although the moment had fit all the definitions of a dream like the last piece jigsaw puzzle.

This. Was. Not. A. Dream

She snapped her fingers, pinched herself and did everything she could to try and get dragged back into reality until they realized that reality was the book placed in front of them.

Yuri's fingers remained placid on the thick book, her thumb excitedly moved against along the paragraphs over and over- as if she was breathing the essence of the book, a larger dose at a time.

They noticed Vo, who was sleeping on the bed opposite to her, making confused facial expressions as a response to her grin. Her bunkmate Sol also leaned over their bed, sharing similar expressions to Vo. She wished they could all gossip about the contents of the book she book she was holding, but any sudden sound would startle Ms Lion, who was downstairs.

But thankfully luck was on her side today.

She noticed her reading light that illuminated their book was flickering. In a moment of complete confusion, the lights cackled off, annoyed yet grand thudding sounds entered the room, bouncing on the harsh wooden floor.

Yuri shoved the hard copy into her pillow, Sol frantically swooped back under their blanket and Vo thrusted themself towards the wall to pretend to be asleep.

Silence

"'Thank goodness the children are sleeping" a deep yet familiar voice huffed, breaking the tension. The sudden sound of a door shutting soon followed behind.

Yuri sighed of relief, embracing the darkness that had filled the room, she lifted her pillow to find the book.

A streak of light coming from beside her resaturated the room, Vo was holding a torch.

"Yuri its 4 am. what is so interesting that you needed to wake us up? Again" they lamented, in a drowsy voice followed by a small mmh-hmm.

"I swear I actually have a good reason this time-" she said "Look! I'll show you and you'll see!" Sol skidded down the ladder and Vo slowly approached her in curiosity. Yuri invited them to sit next to her on her bed.

Vo's flashlight illuminated the front cover of the book, which, to their surprise, was a dangerous red. The words boldy placed on it read 'do not read'. Yuri noticed her cabinmates nervous expressions, she clarified that it wasn't as bad as they thought but a guilty conscience started to form inside their soul.

"I'm not convinced" Vo remarked, after yuri finished her explaination "Why would Miss Lion have a secret diary the size of a table"

"Believe what you want to believe but firstly, actually read the book" she responded. Vo began to flick to the pages, then surrendered to Yuri's smug expression in annoyance.

"But you still haven't told us why this is worth ruining my routinely sleep" Sol, who hadn't spoken during the whole interaction, pointed out.

"Oh right. Sorry~" Yuri singsonged, then flicked to page 951, the page that made her question reality. An ercept from it read:

'Dear diary,

It is my 3rd anniversary of when I first started this job and to tell you it has been hard is an understatement. I love when I get to engage with the kids at camp, their doe eyes fill me with unimaginable amounts of joy. But, alas, 30 days of fun means months of planning, which stresses me to no bounds.

Today, Mr Wolf took charge of my work, which impressed me deeply. I know why I used to moon for him, he is everything that I am not, his elegance matches my energy and maybe I still do like him. Whatever. Those feelings most likely aren't mutualistic but oh diary, I love him.'

Sol cupped their hands against their hand, their mouth 'Ooooing' meanwhile Vo narrowed their eyes, scanning across the page in dismay. Then they turned to face Yuri, who still couldn't fathom the text, even though she had read it multiple times.

"Is this rea-" Vo was interrupted by the lights flickering back on, and the sound of footsteps. Sol pounced on the book to hide it, wincing in pain as it pricked their body.

"Oh kids did the outage wake you? I just fixed it with Mr Wolf.-" A voice chimed, the three of them choreographed a synchronized slow turn followed by a look of judgement.

"What? Is there something on my face?"

This is a writing piece for @which-qsmp-egg-would summer camp event.

Characters involved here: Sol ( @ethertheaether ) , Vo ( @keezers ) and Yuri(Yours truly :P)

Not beta read, apologies for any mistakes

[werewolfetone]

Hello! I wanted to humbly ask if you had any pointers on where one could get started on organisations in Ireland in the 18th century that were primarily about harrassing your local landlord for being a greedy asshole? I know I'm terribly simplifying but that is why I'd love to know more and understand how those movements are situated in Ireland's political situation at the time. Thank you for all your history posting btw, it's a fascinating period you talk about and I always know where to look if I want to know more about it.

To hit the main ones, the articles Secret Societies and Agrarian Violence in Ireland, 1790-1840 and The Whiteboy Movement, 1761-5 are good introductions to the Whiteboys + for the Hearts of Steel and Hearts of Oak the best starting places are probably the articles Hearts of Oak, Hearts of Steel and Lord Donegall and the Hearts of Steel + Priests, Parsons and Politics: The Rightboy Protest in County Cork 1785-1788 is a pretty good introduction to the Rightboys. They weren't just an anti landlord group but personally my favourite study of the Defenders is the book The Men of No Property by Jim Smyth but Defenders and Defenderism in 1795 is shorter & also good, if you are curious about the Defenders too.

In terms of books, there's the aforementioned The Men of No Property, and also the book Rituals and Riots: Sectarian Violence and Political Culture in Ulster, 1784-1886 by Sean Farrell, which touches on the Defenders too but I haven't finished it yet so take the recommendation of it with a grain of salt. There exists exactly 1 book afaik about the Steelboys and Oakboys and it is The Ulster Land War of 1770 by Francis Joseph Bigger, which is... basically a tract Bigger wrote to convince more people to join the IRA of the 1910s. Honestly I don't think I can fully recommend it in good conscience but it has its uses. Lastly, if you're interested in contemporary loyalist reactions to these secret societies, Sir Richard Musgrave, an early 19th century Orangeman, talks about nearly all of them (but lingers on the Whiteboys the longest) in his book Memoirs of the Different Rebellions in Ireland. What he says about them is mostly correct, just very opinionated + also Musgrave's nationalist counterpart, RR Madden, talks about all of these groups at different points in his books about the United Irishmen but, again, particularly had a lot to say about the Whiteboys.

[tia-amorosa]

🌴Lucky Palms🌴

Marisol & Clark - The little big happiness (2)

It's the next day. After the final examinations had been completed and no abnormalities had been found in the little boy, the small family could be released home without hesitation. They rested there for a while. Later, Marisol got her son out of bed and they sat down together in the living room. “Look at those little hands…”.

Clark smiled and gently stroked his son's head. "Yeah, and it looks like he's getting my hair color, I was dark on my head at first too. Unbelievable…didn't think an “accident” could be so beautiful…". Marisol looked at him and smiled. And remembered something he had said earlier. “But you never wanted children, Clark…”. He looked briefly at her and then back at his son. "Yes. But when I saw that picture… I just didn't want to miss anything, so I postponed everything. Also because of the thing with Oscar.“.

Marisol enjoyed watching Clark lovingly stroking his son. "You like that, my darling, don't you? If your dad had decided otherwise, we'd be sitting here alone today“. Clark took a deep breath. „At least I have a conscience. Hm, do you want to go to bed? Or swing?"/ ‘Try the swing, I'm sure he'll like it“.

Clark stood up and carefully took his son in his arms to put him in the swing. Then he switched on the slow speed. "You were right, he likes it. How did you come up with the name Enrico?"/ ”My grandpa's name was Enrique, I think that's why. I just wanted to change the name a bit. He was a great person."

“Enrico… It's not necessarily a great name for a musician, maybe Rico…”/ “His name is fixed, but we can call him Rico. I have to clean up now, and you look at him from time to time"/ ‘I will…’…

“hey, today's a holiday, what do you think about a little party?”/ “I don't know, I don't want to confront the little one with so many people for now…”. Clark looked at his son, who was slowly rocking back and forth. “He's totally relaxed…”/ “Maybe in a few days, okay?”/ “All right. Then Daddy will play something for you, or we'll write a new song, hehe".

Clark picked up his guitar and began to play a quiet piece. The melody blended a little with the music coming from the swing. But Enrico seemed to like it quite a lot.

After tidying up a bit, Marisol took a shower and then sat down at the computer. She had to use the time to finish her book. “The last few chapters, hopefully I'll catch up… I'm glad that Clark is taking such good care of our boy…hn”.

Father and son had had enough of playing the guitar for the time being. So Clark looked at his child for a while. "hehe, well? You're pretty alert for a baby. I slept a lot, at least that's what my mother always told me, I could sleep all day, a bomb could have gone off and I wouldn't have woken up. Come here…".

"I once spoke to your mother on the phone and told her... that it would have been better if I hadn't known about you, she could have said you weren't my child... I take that back. I was always afraid of that. Now I look at you and I'd love to carry you around all day, crazy, right? I'll always protect you, I promise."

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

End of this Part

@cozygirlsimmer😊

[aukly]

i normally only post about wenclair on here but i neeeddddd to talk about agggtm!!!!! i’ve read the first book twice once when it was first announced to get a show and another just this week i love love love the book so much there are only small things i could nitpick about the book but overall i give it 5 stars and recommend it to anyone that likes murder mysteries!!!

HOWEVER I DO NOT RECOMMEND THE SHOW 😭😭😭 i just finished the 3rd episode of agggtm the show and i really really wanted to like it i love the book so much and i’m such a big fan of emma meyers but i cannot in good conscience say that i like it or that it’s a good adaptation :(((( it was wayyyy too short and they just changed so much of the story and the evidence and really all of it they changed everything so much it’s just really disappointing i wish the show was longer or that they would at the very least stick to the damn original story

i don’t think i’ll even finish the show like i only have 3 episodes to go but i’m so disappointed and the show is so frustrating to watch i just can’t 💔

i am in no way upset with the actors or even the casting i loved all of the characters so much and think they look exactly how i imagined (especially the singhs!!!) i also liked how they made pip more involved with her friends but maybe that’s bc i’m a sucker for cute friendships in shows but either way i think it was really nice to have more of pip interacting with all of her friends!! i think all of the actors did an amazing job with what they had!

this post is kinda all over the place and probably doesn’t make that much sense if you haven’t read the book and watched at least some of the show but i’m just so tired of people deciding a book needs movie or show adaptation but then not having the budget/time to do it justice like i really don’t care if it isn’t a perfect scene for scene adaptation but changing pretty much the full story and leaving out some of the most important evidence/characters/relationships/scenes/etc is NOT the way to go about it :/

[dolphin1812]

Why is Javert so funny?

I think I have a new favorite wild coincidence from this book:

“He no longer thought of Jean Valjean,—the wolf of to-day causes these dogs who are always on the chase to forget the wolf of yesterday,—when, in December, 1823, he read a newspaper, he who never read newspapers; but Javert, a monarchical man, had a desire to know the particulars of the triumphal entry of the “Prince Generalissimo” into Bayonne. Just as he was finishing the article, which interested him; a name, the name of Jean Valjean, attracted his attention at the bottom of a page. The paper announced that the convict Jean Valjean was dead, and published the fact in such formal terms that Javert did not doubt it. He confined himself to the remark, “That’s a good entry.” Then he threw aside the paper, and thought no more about it.”

Of all the days Javert, who hates reading, could have read a newspaper, he specifically reads on the day Valjean “dies.” And he believes it has to be true because it’s said “formally.” And he feels the need to comment to himself about it. The mental image is just so funny.

I do think this chapter serves not only to update us on Javert’s side of the chase, but to remind us that he’s the best police officer we’re going to see. We last saw Javert when he checked in on Sister Simplice in his search for Valjean, but right before that, he’d killed Fantine with his presence and his cruelty. We’re well-positioned to hate him, and we’re definitely not supposed to be rooting for him. At the same time, Hugo makes sure to remind us that Javert is “moral” in his own way. For instance,  as an officer in Paris, “Javert rendered himself useful in divers and, though the word may seem strange for such services, honorable manners;” police work isn’t “honorable,” but Javert comes as close to making it so as is possible through his integrity. He even gets back on Valjean’s trail through a duty that seems much more sympathetic than chasing ex-convicts: searching for an “abducted” child. We know that Cosette wasn’t “abducted” and that Valjean is an infinitely better caretaker than the Thénardiers, but the police don’t. Javert may suspect that Valjean was involved with this, but ultimately, he’s there because he’s been called on to check on a “kidnapped” child, and if Cosette had actually been kidnapped, it’d be very easy to think positively of his work. 

He’s also so cautious while pursuing Valjean, partly for selfish and/or career-related reasons (he’s secretive, he likes drama, and he wants the credit for capturing such a “dangerous” man), but because of his “conscience” as well. He doesn’t even pick up the chase until he’s certain that this man is a criminal of some sort, either Jean Valjean or someone well-connected. We still despise him for what he’s done, but we’re also made to recognize his integrity (and perhaps to contrast him with the implied bluster of other police officers, who brag about their “captures” even before they catch anyone, whereas Javert is quiet about his work and only wants to be praised when he feels he’s earned it. He seems humble and modest in comparison). 

At the same time, we can’t forget the situation Valjean is in. Javert fears catching him too quickly for this reason:

“The reader can imagine the effect which this brief paragraph, reproduced by twenty newspapers, would have caused in Paris: “Yesterday, an aged grandfather, with white hair, a respectable and well-to-do gentleman, who was walking with his grandchild, aged eight, was arrested and conducted to the agency of the Prefecture as an escaped convict!””

Javert worries about this man’s “respectability,” but with the exception of that line, basically everything else is true. Valjean was almost arrested while walking with the child he cares for, without having done anything immediate to warrant the attention of the police. This arbitrary and unjust division based on “respectability,” then, is what makes all of Javert’s actions absurd and cruel. The best of the police force still punishes people based not on their morals or their actions, but on generalized perceptions of their identity. 

[ohtobealady]

October Prompts

This is inspired by @modernamericangirl ‘s observation that Robert had ignored Cora’s comment about another lady’s pearls in S5E5 … only for us to see Cora in S5E8 absolutely dripping in them.

6 October: Pearls

He narrowed his gaze and peered closer.

“I’m not certain,” he mumbled, and across from him the thin jeweler hummed appreciatively.

“Ah, of course.”

Robert stood straighter and he watched as the velvety boxes of sparkling gems and jewels were swapped nearly instantly, the third set of options sliding across Rosamund’s tea table.

“That’s quite nice,” his sister said quietly, and Robert peered closer again.

“Yes,” he said thoughtfully, but frowned. “Though I’m not sure for Cora.”

He could feel the air change besides him as Rosamund stood straighter. “Excuse us for a moment?” she said very primly to the jeweler who, nodding a quick “of course,” took a few steps across the room.

“While I don’t mind your using my home to choose the surprise—“ she hadn’t even waited for Robert to look up “—I do want to remind you that I am due to leave at any moment and cannot be late.”

“Of course I know that,” Robert grumbled, “but this cannot be rushed.” He beckoned the man over once again.

“What is this for? Can’t I know?”

He ignored that and leaned in to inspect the shine of one of the necklaces.

“It was her birthday a month ago now, so surely it isn’t that. She isn’t the mother of the bride, so it isn’t for Rose’s wedding. Nor is it Christmas or your anniversary.”

“No,” he conceded.

“Hmm. I wonder—“

Again, he ignored her and instead pointed at the pair of earrings at the far right corner of the blue velvet box. A teardrop of a pearl dangling from dainty sparkling diamonds.

“Those.” He felt himself smile. “Please.”

“Oh, excellent choice, my lord!”

Rosamund, too, leaned closer and watched as the man took them up gently and found the little card with the price. Rosamund leaned closer, too, when the card was slid face down upon the tabletop towards him.

“Are you sure?” his sister said softly. “She does have so many pearls.”

“She likes them,” he turned to the footman who brought his cheque book. “And they suit her.”

“Well, then, how lucky she must be to have someone to shower her with them.”

“I don’t shower her.” Robert sat, unscrewed his pen, and began to write out the payment.

“No?” Her voice was grating his nerves now. “So what exactly do you call giving her a rather expensive pair of pearl earrings for no other reason besides being in London?”

“She deserves them,” he admitted.

“Oh? Pray tell, what for?”

“I can’t say,” he glanced at her only briefly, and then back to his cheque. “But I assure you, she does.”

“You can’t say? Or won’t.”

He finished his writing; he tore the cheque neatly from the booklet; he stood, and with a smile, traded with the jeweler who in turn gave him a beautiful, small box.

He and his sister nodded gratefully at the man, and left the drawing room to leave him to clear everything away. Robert knew Rosamund would start in on him again now that they were truly alone, but to his surprise, she did not. In fact, she was silent.

It unnerved him.

Robert chanced a look over at her, and he found her peering at him, too.

“What is it?” he asked when at last he could bear her studying him no longer. “Do you not approve?”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that. Only—“

“Only?”

“—Did something happen?”

Robert blinked at his sister. Yes, his conscience said. He’d ignored Cora. He’d been callous and beastly. And worst of all, he hadn’t trusted her with that man Bricker.

No. That wasn’t quite true: he hadn’t wanted to trust her with that man Bricker. She was too good; she was too true, and it made the guilt that he had not been all those years ago rear its ugly head.

“That is,” Rosamund went on when he stayed quiet. “Mama did mention she’d noticed …”

And to his surprise Rosamund’s voice trailed away.

“Noticed?” he asked, his heart quickening..

“Well, at the cocktail party. You did seem—“

“—I don’t recall.”

His sister looked at him, stared at him, really, until at last she smiled. “Hmm. Do you know what they symbolize? Pearls?”

Robert shook his head.

“No. Of course you don’t.” She patted his arm. Then, Rosamund turned and began to walk up the stairs, tossing over her shoulder as Robert watched her climb, “But you’re right. I suppose they do suit her”

[middleearthpixie]

I can (finally) reveal the fic I wrote for Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2023, inspired by this amazing moodboard done by @the-girl-with-the-algebra-book!

Title: Long Walk Home

Rating: T

Relationships: Boromir x ofc Eleri

Characters: Boromir, Eleri, Faramir, Ioreth, Gandalf the White, various healers, and a few orcs

Warnings/Triggers: scenes of battle, description of wounds, steamy sex eventually

Word Count: 41k

Summary: After being seriously wounded by the Uruk-hai and unwilling to slow the Fellowship down, Boromir has convinced the others to let him try to make his way back home to Minas Tirith to recuperate. But then he passes out from the severity of his wounds, only to roused by his boat running aground in unfamiliar territory. And when the Uruk-Hai come back to finish him off, they might very well have succeeded, were it not for the young boy who comes to his aid. Imagine his surprise when he learns his savior is a woman…

Eleri has lived a solitary existence ever since a pack of orcs roared through her village several years earlier and destroyed almost everything in their path. She prefers solitude, for it’s safer. If she remains alone, she can’t ever suffer losing another soul. But, when she happens upon orcs attacking an already-severely wounded man, she can’t in good conscience, turn away without helping. She had no way of knowing how a simple act of kindness could change her entire life….

Check out the story and the amazing artwork that inspired it on AO3!