#I didn’t disappear from posting quotes I swear

[thedailybullshit]

Dutch: So . . . who broke it? I’m not mad, I just wanna know.

Abigail: I did. I broke -

Dutch: No, no you didn’t. Bill?

Bill: Well don’t look at me. Look at Javier.

Javier: What? I didn’t break it.

Bill: Huh, that’s weird. How’d you even know it was broken?

Javier: Because it’s sitting right in front of us, and it’s broken.

Bill: Suspicious.

Javier: No! It’s not.

Micah: If-if it matters - probably not, but - Sadie was the last one to use it.

Sadie: Liar! I don’t even drink that crap.

Micah: Oh, really? Then what were you doing by Pearson’s pot earlier?

Sadie: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Micah!

Abigail: Okay-okay, let’s not fight, I broke it. Let me pay for it, Dutch.

Dutch: No!! Who broke it?!

Javier: Dutch? Ms. Grimshaw’s been awfully quiet.

Susan: Really?!

Javier: Yeah, really.

Susan: Oh my god!

*arguing intensifies*

Dutch: I broke it. It burned my hand, so I punched it. I predict ten minutes from now, they’ll be at each other’s throats, with war paint on their faces and a pig head on a stick. Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.

[novaursa]

What about one where the small folk of winterfell and the people of the castle make friendly, suggestive gossip from giggly women and knowing men about cregan and targ!reader. Their lord and lady are close with one another and it is often talked about and seen that they frequent the bed chamber (if yk what I mean 👀)

the folk of Winterfell feel at ease knowing their lord and lady seem to be in love, similar to the honeymoon period and young love.

You don’t have to use this quote i came up with, but it inspired me to ask for this idea “I’m sure our new lady will provide both Winterfell and our Lord with many Stark children. They are certainly not opposed to practicing their duty”

— 🐠

Winterfell's Warmth

- Summary: Cregan takes you to be his wife, a fire to his ice. And it's not long until smallfolk notice just how much Lord Stark is devoted to his Targaryen bride. 

- Paring: targ!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: This entire scene is from the perspective of the smallfolk.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

- A/N: This is the last request that I'll be posting today.

Winterfell bustles with the hum of daily life, as it always does—iron clanging in the forges, boots scuffing over the ancient stones, and the soft murmurs of the smallfolk as they go about their duties. But today, there's a special kind of lightness in the air, a sense of warmth despite the looming chill that clings to the North. The hearths burn brighter, and even the winds seem to whisper with a mischievous grin.

The reason for this subtle shift? You, Y/N, the new Lady of Winterfell, and your lord husband, Cregan Stark. Since your arrival, the inhabitants of the castle have grown accustomed to your frequent disappearances with their lord—disappearances that always lead back to your shared bedchamber. The smallfolk know, of course, as do the courtiers. They know very well what goes on behind those thick stone walls, and the knowledge brings them no small amount of amusement. 

In the courtyard, a group of washerwomen gossip while scrubbing linens in the cold, frothy water of a trough. Their fingers are red from the chill, but their spirits remain high.

“Have you heard?” one of them, a round-faced woman named Ellyn, leans in, lowering her voice despite the fact that no one important is nearby. “Our lady was seen entering the lord’s chambers again this morning, not long after the first bell rang.”

A younger girl, barely past sixteen, giggles and covers her mouth. “She didn’t leave until just before the midday meal yesterday, either!”

Another woman, older and seasoned from years of service, cocks an eyebrow but smiles knowingly. “Winterfell hasn’t been this alive since…well, since Lord Cregan’s own parents. I’d wager the bedchambers have seen more use in the past fortnight than in the last decade combined.”

The women burst into laughter, their voices carrying through the open courtyard. Ellyn smirks, leaning in even closer. “I’m sure our new lady will provide both Winterfell and our Lord with many Stark children. They are certainly not opposed to practicing their duty.”

The young girl flushes a little but can’t help but join in the giggling. "It's true, isn't it? They’ve only been married a moon’s turn, and yet I’ve never seen a man so... devoted to his wife."

“Well,” the older woman says with a playful shrug, “the Starks may be wolves, but it seems our Lord’s heart is well and truly claimed by a dragon.”

Across the courtyard, a pair of stable boys are equally enthralled with the ongoing rumors. One of them, tall and lanky, leans against the stall door, shaking his head.

"I swear by the old gods, I’ve never seen Lord Stark smile so much," the boy says, eyes wide with the incredulity of it all. "He used to be all serious, always about duty, honor, the needs of Winterfell. But now? Every time I see him, he’s got that daft look on his face, like he’s already back in the Lady’s arms."

The other stable boy, shorter and stockier, chuckles. "Aye, I noticed that too. You'd think a man so cold in demeanor wouldn’t be so… warm in his private affairs." He glances around, as if Lord Cregan himself might be lurking behind a pillar. "But gods, can you blame him? Our lady is like a flame. She’s got the blood of dragons in her veins, and it’s like he can’t resist her."

The tall boy laughs loudly. "Well, Winterfell is colder than the South, and a bit of fire in his bed can’t hurt, can it?"

Their laughter echoes through the stables, joining the chorus of quiet gossip that fills the castle.

In the kitchens, the cooks are no less entertained. An older man, grizzled and stern-faced, chops onions with a practiced hand. "It's a good thing they’re so taken with each other," he grumbles to a nearby scullery maid. "Winterfell needs strong heirs, and soon. Better they start early."

The maid, a cheerful woman with flushed cheeks from the heat of the ovens, snickers. "Aye, I doubt that'll be a problem. They’re always together, locked away for hours. If they keep at it, we’ll have a new little Stark running about before winter comes."

"I’ve heard they’re inseparable," another cook chimes in, stirring a pot of stew. "Lord Cregan hardly lets her out of his sight. It’s almost sweet, really."

"Sweet?" the old man scoffs, though there’s no real bite in his voice. "It’s practical, is what it is. They’re doing their duty, ensuring the Stark line continues. But," he adds with a chuckle, "it doesn’t hurt that they seem to enjoy it so much."

The scullery maid laughs. "Oh, they more than enjoy it! I was passing by their chamber the other night, and, well…" She lets the sentence hang, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let’s just say, they were not quiet."

The group erupts into laughter, and even the old man can’t suppress a grin.

And so it goes throughout Winterfell. From the servants who clean your chambers to the guards posted outside the great hall, everyone in the castle is aware of the affection that flows so freely between you and Cregan. Even in the great hall during the evening feasts, there are stolen glances and soft touches between you, enough for the smallfolk to notice.

At one such feast, a group of bannermen seated at a lower table murmur amongst themselves, casting knowing looks up at the high table where you sit beside your husband. Lord Cregan’s hand rests casually on your thigh beneath the table, his thumb tracing circles through the fabric of your gown. You lean toward him, whispering something that makes him laugh softly—a sound rare enough in these halls that it turns heads.

One of the bannermen, a grizzled old warrior with silver streaking his beard, nudges the man beside him. "See how he looks at her? Like she’s the only thing in the world that matters."

The younger man nods. "Aye, I’ve noticed. Seems our Lord is well and truly smitten."

"Better that than cold and distant, I say," the older man replies. "Winterfell’s seen enough hardship. It’s good for the people to know their Lord is happy. And with the lady he’s taken to bed, I’d say we’ll be seeing Stark children sooner rather than later."

The younger man grins. "Aye, and they’re certainly not opposed to practicing their duty."

As laughter ripples through the hall, you catch Cregan’s gaze, and in that moment, the world seems to fade away. His eyes, as grey as the Northern skies, are filled with a warmth reserved only for you. And though you are surrounded by the murmurs and laughter of your people, all you feel is the pull of his love, binding you to him as surely as the ancient stones of Winterfell bind the North.

The smallfolk can whisper all they like. Let them. Winterfell is at ease, and your love for Cregan is as fierce and unyielding as the North itself.

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Nothing Much to Lose

Author: marchember

Artist: Jojo

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Length: 85000

Warnings: undefined

Tags: #Howl’s Moving Castle fusion/AU #more movie than book #characters from the HMC universe #Hatter Dean #Wizard Cas #adventure #bickering #enemies to friends to lovers

Posting Date: October 27, 2022

Summary: Dean’s life as a Hatter is predictable and well-worn, his days filled with taking care the Family Business in the small town where everyone knows him by name. It doesn’t leave much space for adventure or excitement, and that’s fine. He has his job, taking care of his mother’s legacy, his friends, and his genius little brother going places.  All signs points to this being all that the Fate has in store for Dean - until an unexpected nighttime meeting with a mysterious wizard on a run from the law leaves him suddenly involved with precisely the kind of shady magical dealings he’d avoided all his life.  Struggling with an ineffable curse, his familiar life turned suddenly upside down, the search for a remedy leads him straight back to the person who started it all - and who unfortunately seems to be a bit of a dick. And since when things like that even happen to older brothers?

Excerpt: Dean realised his mistake the second the words left his mouth, but it was too late. He saw the soldier’s eyes widen, and his face contort further in a maddened scowl, lips drawn, showing ugly, yellowed teeth. He watched, transfixed, as the guy raised his fist, and managed to think that “drunk, pummelled to death by assholes” was definitely not how he wanted to go, when a low, gravelly voice cut through. “Thats enough.” The soldier stopped mid-motion, frozen. Dean blinked a few times, before taking his eyes off the fist suspended in front of his face. He might’ve had gotten a little cross-eyed.  Quick survey of the scene told him that the other soldier was immobilised as well. Behind him, the tramp stood with his left arm outstretched. He somehow looked decidedly less scrawny and grimy, even despite the dirty longcoat and general unkemptness. His blue eyes almost seemed to glow.  He made a shooing motion and mumbled something unintelligible, causing the soldiers to turn and walk away in complete silence, their moves weirdly stiff and unnatural, then sighed deeply.  “You just had to insert yourself into this situation, didn’t you?” he asked Dean, a displeased scowl on his face. “Typical. Every day in this country there is a thousand injustices and nobody bats an eye, but when I need to be left alone suddenly there are wannabe heroes falling from the sky.” He looked derisively at the staircase behind Dean. “I can’t depend even on human callousness.” “Hey!” Dean reddened, rapidly growing to regret his decision to stand up for the guy. “I could swear ‘thanks’ is the customary phrase when somebody bravely comes to your rescue like that.“ “‘Thanks’?” Dean goggled as the weirdo actually gesticulated the air quotes. “You come in, you interfere with my… activities, pointlessly run your mouth and force me to save you, ruining my plan, and you expect to be thanked?”  “Well, excuse me for wanting to help a down-and-out like you getting the crap beaten out of him-” “It’s a disguise,” he hissed, waving his hand up and down, and huh. If Dean had had any doubts about the guy being a wizard (not that he had any, after the puppeteer show with the soldiers), they’d dissipate right then. With every pass of his hand, the man seemed to wipe off the hobo persona. His clothes got clean and less wrinkly, although the terrible coat remained shapeless, sagging from his shoulders. His dark hair was no longer matted with sweat and grime - now it looked messy, like the guy was carding his hands through it just a minute ago. Dirt and the grubby beard disappeared from his face, leaving behind only a slight five o’clock shadow and a pissed off expression. He even seemed to grow a couple inches. “Not bad,” Dean praised. “I’d lose the coat, though.”

DCBB 2022 Posting Schedule

[ganseybois]

the pynch masterlist, their evolution throughout trc

Two years earlier, Adam had made his decision to come to Aglionby, and, in his head, it was sort of because of Ronan.

Ronan said, “I’m always straight.” Adam replied, “Oh, man, that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told.”

Ronan began to swear at Adam. It was a long, involved swear, using every forbidden word possible, often in compound-word form. As Adam stared at his lap penitent, he mused that there was something musical about Ronan when he swore, a careful and loving precision to the way he fit the words together, a black-painted poetry. 

He stroked Chainsaw’s head with a single finger and she tilted her beak up in response. It was a strange moment in a strange evening, and if it had happened the day before, it would’ve struck Adam that he rarely saw such thoughtless kindness from Ronan. 

Part of Adam wanted to lure Ronan out of his room for company

Both Adam and Blue looked up at the sound of footsteps crossing the floor toward them. It was Ronan, holding something under his arm. He cautiously lowered himself until he sat cross-legged beside Adam and then sighed heavily, as if he had been part of the conversation to this point and it tired him. Note: Read this post to understand why this quote is here

He tightened his fingers around the strap of his bag, but he didn’t get out. “Man, you don’t have to get out here,” Ronan said. 

Ronan looked away from the house, out across the black field. His hand worked on the steering wheel; something was frustrating him, but with Ronan, there was no telling if it was still Whelk or something else entirely. 

Halfway down the drive, he saw the brake lights on Ronan’s BMW. Just go, Ronan. 

Ronan sometimes dreamt of Adam too, the latter boy sullen and elegant and fluently disdainful of dream-Ronan’s clumsy attempts to communicate.

The oh, hey was accompanied by a definite change in the timbre of his voice. That meant it was Adam, and that somehow stoked Ronan’s anger.

Noah said to Ronan, “I know why you’re mad.” Ronan sneered at him, but his pulse heaved. “Tell me then, Prophet.” Noah said, “It’s not my job to tell other people’s secrets.”

He hurriedly sprawled back in the seat, throwing one jean-covered leg over the top of Adam’s. 

His gaze followed his brother’s leg to where it rested on top of Adam’s.

Adam seized Ronan’s neck, fingers hooked in his skin. Ronan could not kill him, no matter how much Orphan Girl begged. It was Adam.

Adam was in the dream, too; he traced the tangled pattern of the ink with his finger. He said, “Scio quid hoc est.” As he traced it father and father down on the bare skin of Ronan’s back, Ronan himself disappeared entirely. 

Adam looked up at Ronan. “I know it was you,” he said. “I figured it out. The rent.” He held Ronan’s gaze for just a moment longer, until something inside Ronan unwound and he almost said something.

Ronan’s second secret was Adam Parrish. Adam was different since making the bargain with Cabeswater. Stronger, stranger, father away. It was hard not to stare at the odd and elegant lines of his face. 

“Maybe I dreamt you,” he said. “Thanks for the straight teeth, then,” Adam replied. 

On the bottom, Ronan’s handwriting labeled it merely: manibus. For your hands.

“Are you waiting out here for me?” “No,” said Ronan. “Parrish and I are going for a drive.”

Ronan took Adam to the Barns.

Adam felt Ronan’s eyes glance off him and away, his disinterest practiced but incomplete. Adam wondered if anyone else noticed. Part of him wished they did and immediately felt bad, because it was vanity, really: See, Adam Parrish is wantable, worthy of a crush, not just by anyone, someone like Ronan, who could want Gansey or anyone else and chose Adam for his hungry eyes. Maybe he was wrong. He could be wrong. I am unknowable, Ronan Lynch. “You want to see what I’ve been working on?” Ronan asked. All casual. “Sure,” Adam replied. All casual.

Adam considered Rona’s admiration of him. Someone like him treating someone like Adam as someone worthy.

Again, he imagined Ronan here on his own, so hopeful for a change that he would have noted such a subtle difference. It was far more dedication than he had thought Ronan Lynch capable of. Lonesome.

Light, or something like light, reflected off it onto Ronan’s chin and cheeks, rendering him stark and handsome and terrifying and someone else. Then he blew on it. His breath passed through the word, the mirror, the unwritten line. Adam heard a whisper in his ear. Something moved and stirred inside him. Ronan’s eyelashes fluttered darkly. 

Adam felt Ronan glance at him and away. Their shoulders were close.

Strangely enough, Ronan knew a great deal about how Adam worked.

Adam held the sides of the cart and then thought better of it. He held himself instead. With a savage smile, Ronan shoved the cart off the curb and belted towards the BMW. As they picked up speed, Ronan called out a joyful and awful swear and then jumped on to the back of the cart himself. As they hurtled towards the BMW, Adam realised that Ronan, as usual, had no intention of stopping before something bad happened. He cupped a hand over his nose just as they glanced off the side of the BMW. The unseated cart wobbled once, twice, and then tipped catastrophically on to its side. It kept skidding, the boys skidding along with it. The three of them came to a stop. "Oh, God," Adam said, touching the road burn on his elbow. It wasn't that bad, really. "God, God. I can feel my teeth." Ronan lay on his back a few feet away. A box of toothpaste rested on his chest and the cart keeled beside him. He looked profoundly happy. 

Adam finally sat down on one of the pews. Laying his cheek against the smooth back of it, he looked at Ronan. Strangely enough, Ronan belonged here, too, just as he had at the Barns. This noisy, lush religion had created him just as much as his father's world of dreams; it seemed impossible for all of Ronan to exist in one person. Adam was beginning to realize that he hadn't known Ronan at all. Or rather, he had known part of him and assumed it was all of him. The scent of Cabeswater, all trees after rain, drifted past Adam, and he realized that while he'd been looking at Ronan, Ronan had been looking at him.

It was possible that there were two gods in this church. 

As Gansey shut the door behind him, he heard Adam say, “I don’t want to talk,” and Ronan reply, “The fuck would I talk about?”

Hopes of after--every minute that the Barns had been his all of the time he’d spent here alone or with Adam, dreaming and scheming. Home, home, home. 

When Adam’s mouth quirked, Ronan’s expression stilled for a moment before turning to the loose smile he ordinarily reserved for Matthew’s silliness. Adam felt a surge of both accomplishment and nerves. He skated an edge here. Making Ronan Lynch smile felt as charged as making a bargain with Cabeswater. These weren’t forces to play with. 

It was Ronan, unperformed. No. Ronan, unprotected. This tone reminded Adam of that unshielded smile from before. Don’t play, he told himself. This is not a game. But it didn’t feel like a game, if he was being honest. 

Adam lived in an apartment located above the office of St. Agnes Catholic Church, a fortuitous combination that focused most of the objects of Ronan’s worship into one downtown block.

Ronan crossed his arms to wait, just looking. At Adam’s fine cheekbones, his furrowed fair eyebrows, his beautiful hands, everything washed out by the furious light. He had memorized the shape of Adam’s hands in particular: the way his thumb jutted awkwardly, boyishly; the roads of the prominent veins; the large knuckles that punctuated his long fingers. In dreams Ronan put them to his mouth.

His feelings for Adam were an oil spill; he’d let them overflow and now there wasn’t a damn place in the ocean that wouldn’t catch ire if he dropped a match. 

Ronan held out his hand; Adam took it. Ronan hauled him up, his mind all palm against palm, thumb crossed over thumb, fingers pressed into wrist bone--and then Adam was facing him and he released his hand. The ocean burned. 

Adam described the circumstances surrounding his eye and his hand with the same level tone he would use to answer a question in class. He allowed Ronan to lean in to compare his eyes – close enough that Ronan felt his breath on his cheek – and he allowed Ronan to study the palm of his hand. The latter was not strictly necessary, and they both knew it, but Adam watched Ronan closely as he lightly traced the lines there.

This was like walking the line between dream and sleep. The night-sharp balance of being asleep enough to dream and awake enough to remember what he wanted. He knew Adam had figured out how he felt. But he didn’t know if he could step off this knife-slender path without destroying what he had.

“I thought I was hallucinating,” Adam said, next to the lockers, an announcement droning on over the hall speakers. “Ronan Lynch in the halls of Aglionby.” Ronan slammed his locker. He had not put anything in it and had no reason to open or close it, but he liked the satisfying bang of the metal down the hall, the way it drowned out the announcements. He did it again for good measure. “Is this a real conversation, Parrish?” Adam didn’t bother to reply. He merely exchanged three textbooks for his gym hoodie. Ronan wrenched his tie loose. “You working after school?” “With a dreamer.” He held Ronan’s gaze over his locker door. School had improved. Adam gently closed his locker. “I’m done at four thirty. If you’re up for brainstorming some repair of your dream forest. Unless you have homework.” “Asshole,” Ronan said. Adam smiled cheerily. Ronan would start wars and burn cities for that true smile, elastic and amiable.

“Miseria fortes viros, Ronan,” Adam said. When he said “Ronan,” it meant: Ronan. 

The Barns was made of: magic and love. Now that he had at least a passing acquaintance with both of those things, it affected him in a different way. He used to wonder what he would have looked like if he had grown up in a place like this. Now he thought about how, if he wanted it, he could one day live in a place like this. He did not quite understand what had changed. Note: I love this quote bc him falling for Ronan is what made it change.

He wordlessly crossed the floor and sat beside Adam on the mattress. When he held out his hand, Adam put the model into it. “This old thing,” Ronan said. He turned the front tire, and again the music played out of it. They sat like that for a few minutes, as Roman examined the car and turned each wheel to play a different tune. Adam watched how intently Ronan studied the seams, his eyelashes low over his eyes. Ronan let out a breath, put the model down on the bed beside him, and kissed Adam.

They kissed again. Adam felt it in more than his lips. 

Ronan sat back, his eyes closed, swallowing. Adam watched his chest rise and fall, his eyebrows furrow. He felt as bright and dreamy and imaginary as the light through the window. Note: check out my add on to this post about my thoughts with this line.

It was a long moment before Ronan opened his eyes, and when he did, his expression was complicated. He stood up. He was still looking at Adam, and Adam was looking back, but neither said anything. Probably Ronan wanted something from him, but Adam didn’t know what to say. He was a magician, Persephone had said, and his magic was making connections between disparate things. Only now he was too full of white, fuzzy light to make any sort of logical connections. He knew that of all the options in the world, Ronan Lynch was the most difficult version of any of them. He knew that Ronan was not a thing to be experimented with. He knew his mouth still felt warm.

He was so raw and electric that it was hard to believe that he was awake. Normally it took sleep to strip him to this naked energy. But this was not a dream. This was his life, his home, his night. After a few moments, he heard the door ease open behind him and Adam joined him. Silently they looked over the dancing lights in the fields. It was not difficult to see that Adam was working intensely with his own thoughts. Words kept rising up inside Ronan and bursting before they ever escaped. He felt he’d already asked the question; he couldn’t also give the answer. Three deer appeared at the tree line, just at the edge of the porch light’s reach. One of them was the beautiful pale buck, his antlers like branches or roots. He watched them, and they watched him, and then Ronan could not stand it. “Adam?” When Adam kissed him, it was every mile per hour Ronan had ever gone over the speed limit. It was every window-down, goose-bumps-on-skin, teeth-chattering-cold night drive. It was Adam’s ribs under Ronan’s hands and Adam’s mouth on his mouth, again and again and again. It was stubble on lips and Ronan having to stop, to get his breath, to restart his heart. They were both hungry animals, but Adam had been starving for longer. Inside, they pretended they would dream, but they did not. They sprawled on the living room sofa and Adam studied the tattoo that covered Ronan’s back: all the sharp edges that hooked wondrously and fearfully into each other. “Unguibus et rostro,” Adam said. Ronan put Adam’s fingers to his mouth. He was never sleeping again.

His mouth remembered Ronan Lynch’s. 

He was so still inside. 

“Parrish,” Ronan said. He eyed Adam. He was clearly taking nothing for granted. 

When he opened his eyes, he saw that Ronan was looking at him, as he had been looking at him for months. Adam looked back, as he had been looking back for months. 

Adam shut the door and lightly pounded his fist three times on the roof. Then he went to the other side of the car, opened the door, made sure Noah wasn’t in there, and climbed in. As Ronan watched him, he fumbled around with the seat controls until he found the one that made it recline all the way, and then he clawed for Ronan’s Aglionby jacket. Both it and the Orphan Girl were hopelessly balled up among the other things in the backseat—the Orphan Girl snuffled and pushed the jacket toward his hand. He wadded it beneath his neck as a pillow, draping the sleeve over his eyes to block out the streetlight. “Wake me up if you have to,” he said, and closed his eyes.

Ronan wrapped his arms around Adam, pinning Adam’s upper arms against him. He was contained. “Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit,” Ronan said into Adam’s hearing ear, and Adam’s body sagged against Ronan, chest heaving. His hands still jerked and strained to violence. He gasped, “You asshole,” but Ronan could hear how near tears he was.

His head rested miserably on Ronan’s shoulder, everything shaking, standing only because Ronan did not allow him to sink.

Adam drove the winding road back to Henreitta in a slick little BMW that smelled of Ronan. The radio was playing Ronan’s terrible techno, but Adam didn’t turn it off. The world felt enormous. 

She had to content herself with stolen glimpses through cracked oors, slender one-inch views of duvet and sheets piled like thunderheads, Adam and sometimes Ronan pillowed among them. 

Adam had taken the cassette from Ronan’s hand, working Ronan’s fingers loose and putting his own fingers between them. For a moment, Opal, hidden, had thought they were going to kiss. But instead, Ronan pressed his face against Adam’s neck and Adam quietly put his head on top of Ronan’s head and they did not move for a long time. 

This made Adam laugh, and then he let out a deep breath. He appeared a lot less crumpled now. They held hands. 

BONUS: 

blue lily, lily blue: pg. 63: “a single cowboy boot in the middle of the floor” [ronan’s room]

blue lily, lily blue: pg. 79: “here we go, cowboy” [to adam]

ronan lynch had secret cowboy boot wearing adam parrish farmer fantasies

[lovelybarnes]

restless- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, mentions of natasha romanoff, sam wilson, and steve rogers warnings: mentions of nightmares and clingy bucky but it’s mostly fluff about: bucky can’t sleep without y/n a/n: i was going to post this yesterday but i fell asleep :| my computer was literally open and nearly dead when i woke up lmao

today marks one week that you’ve been gone, and with it, the official shortest amount of sleep that bucky has gotten in a week. he supposes it’s sightly pathetic that he can’t sleep well- or, really, at all- without you, but you continuously tell him you chase his nightmares away for him, and without you there to make them disappear, where else will they go but deep into the crevices of his mind, where they’ll hide long enough for him to let his guard down and lull himself to sleep, only to wake up with the ugly memories of things he hoped he’d forgotten. he’s constantly told that his attachment to you is overbearing- not by you, though. never by you- because it must be, with how much he clings to your side, always touching some part of you so that he’s sure that, yes, you’re there. not a dream or an illusion, although you’re good enough to be one.

he misses every part of you; your fingers and the way they run through his hair, trace his features with such tenderness he nearly believes he is what you see, your voice and its ability to transform the most mundane words into the greatest poetry, sing soft songs into his skin until he’s fallen asleep, your eyes and how they examine him in the best way possible, glowing when they meet his.

he longs for you, but he can only imagine your smile, the bitter reminder that you’re probably showing it to some psychopath for the mission you’re on. he hates steve every time the memory is evoked, the panic that comes with your being used as bait for some of the most screwed up villains in the world only returning stronger. he’s tempted to go get you himself, uncaring if he screws up the mission because at least he’ll have you.

stark will call him pathetic, then go to bed with the love of his life, so bucky prefers keeping his thoughts about you to himself, much like he’d like to keep you. you’ve told him you can handle yourself, and bucky never doubts it, having been victim to the using of your skills when he first encountered you as the winter soldier. you kicked his ass then, and you kick any and all ass now.

it doesn’t help his sleeping schedule, though your calls do. he swears you’re an angel because there’s no way a normal human could glow like that through a screen, but you always laugh off his words and simply tell him to turn his brightness down. however, you haven’t taught him that yet, so he greets you with the same sentence every time. his smile is always brighter after your calls, the dark bruises under his eyes reduced as if he got a full night’s rest. it’s your effect on him, and as much as everyone teases you both for it, they appreciate it.

you’re due to come back in a week or two, but bucky is unsure he can wait that long, and judging from your chirpier-than-usual voice in your latest interaction, you’ve finished early, like you always do. he likes to imagine it’s because of him, behind the deprecating voice that screams at him why would it be? (the answer is that you love him and hate every second you’re away from him)

sam scoffs when he overhears him telling that to steve, sitting down next to bucky, “man, there is no way you can tell that from a phone call. even if you could, i know she’s good, but to shave two weeks off mission time? natasha hasn’t even been able to do that.” a proud smile grows on bucky’s face without his permission as he shrugs, “she’s that good,” he brags, choosing to ignore the fake gag sam sends his way.

you frown when he tells you what he thinks on your call a few hours later, lips puckering into a small pout, “how did you know? i wanted it to be a surprise!” you ask through a crackled voice. so much for state of the art technology, bucky thinks, but is glad nonetheless to hear your voice. “i know you too well, doll. you’re really coming back today?”

you nod excitedly, biting your bottom lip. “mhm! i missed you and my bed too much to stay here a moment longer. villains are such pervs,” you complain, nose scrunching. bucky’s jaw sets when he hears your words, immediately thinking the worst. “but, i’m coming back today, so it’s fine. what do you want to do when i get back?”

bucky shrugs, “be with you,” he answers simply, making you laugh. “other than that, dummy. we could watch a movie, have a little date night to make up for the one i missed while i was gone.” bucky grins at this, remembering his plans for that night. “okay,” he agrees, “we’ll watch one of those movies on my list. although sam put some weird ones.”

you concur through chuckles that pass through the phone, reminding him how much you love him. he swears an oath to never let you go again and bites back a yawn that you see right through. “you’re sleeping the moment i get back,” you instruct, and bucky nods with your words, even when the sole idea of your being within arm’s reach is obviously too enticing to pass up for sleep. “whatever you want, doll. as long as you’re here.” he replies, thinking about spending the night pressing kisses to your hair and checking for any injuries you may have withheld from him.

the sentence is dishonest and you both know it, but you leave it at that, missing him too much and sure he’ll rest with how exhausted he must be. you say goodbye without the actual words, only giving a blown kiss and a “see you later.”

bucky spends the rest of the hours without you thinking of you, skimming through the words written in the little blue notebook you got him to replace his old one. that one sits on his dresser, the disuse proven by the layer of dust that covers it. the names he spent hours agonizing over, tracing his fingers over the indents made by the pen, are hidden by its cover. they never fade from his mind, though. only half of the pages of the one you gave him are blank now, and the ones that aren’t are bright and white, inviting him to drop his pen on the lines and jot whatever reference he didn’t understand but wants to. he eyes the names of the movies and shows, some accompanied by quotes that refer to them. “new girl: nick miller,” he reads, remembering how one of your friends said he was the avenger version of the character. “friends: ‘joey doesn’t share food,” sam told him that one when he didn’t let him have any of his chips. he looks at clueless, recalling the way all of his teammates stare at scott whenever the movie comes up. there are a couple pages like this, some of them recommendations and others titles he kept hearing. tonight, he decides on starting a new show, but he leaves the actual show up to you to decide.

you arrive a couple hours later, when stars have littered the darkness that bled through the sky. it’s all very rom-com-filmesque, the way you light up when you see his face- even through how tired you clearly are- and how you jump into his arms, ignoring the ache in your muscles because the way his arms wrap around you seems to make it disappear. he gathers you in his arms and kisses everywhere on your face, treasuring your laugh and the feeling of your lips pressing to his shoulder when you hug him again.

even when you pull away, he doesn’t let go of your hand, flesh fingers tracing small circles into your skin. you don’t complain, even when steve shoves papers in front of you and asks you to sign them with a sheepish look. sam comes by and teases bucky lightheartedly, hounding bucky to let you have both your hands. you chuckle at his request and squeeze bucky’s fingers, kissing the back of his hand, “oh, no, he better not,” you half-joke. he smiles, red tinting his cheeks as he gently draws you closer.

you don’t feel like driving at the moment, and you need to water your plants, completely sure that wanda forgot to do it, so you end up going to your room, even though you spend most of your time at his own room or your apartment outside the compound. you can tell how little the room has been used by the spotless counters and floors, furniture clean of any of the knickknacks you usually leave. you only sleep here when bucky leaves for long missions, his absence is overly blatant when he’s gone, and your plants keep you from feeling too alone.

you usher bucky inside, tugging open your drawers to search for something for him to wear. you grin at the soft fabric under the pads of your fingertips, recalling the memory of stealing them from bucky’s closet to soak in his scent when you couldn’t have the real thing. the considerable use has washed away all traces of him, and you decide that needs to be fixed, picking out clothing for him.

you change into one of his old shirts and make tea while he changes, smiling when you feel his arms wrapping around your waist and kissing your jaw. “what do you want to watch tonight?” he asks, and you contemplate it while you pour your drinks, shoveling spoons of sugar into each one to make it as sweet as possible- his favorite. “new girl, i think you’ll like it,” you reply after a moment.

he unravels his arms from around you, taking the mugs from the counter and following you to your room after you peck his cheek in thanks. “okay, i want to see what this nick miller is all about,” bucky says, making you laugh softly. “c’mon,” he urges, opening his arms for you after setting the cups down. you cuddle up to his side after you grab your computer, setting up netflix and choosing the show.

halfway through the first episode, bucky feels the fatigue hit him like a ton of bricks, hours of missed sleep catching up to him now that he’s finally relaxed and comfortable. keeping his eyes open is a job all on its own, and the sweet smell of your hair combined with the way your fingers move on his chest, softly writing letters and drawing shapes, is too much to resist.

you barely notice when he shuts his eyes, the evening of his breathing alerting you he’s succumbed to his tiredness. you stop the video and quietly shut your laptop, placing it on the bedside table while moving as little as possible. he feels you shift through your efforts, pulling you closer in his sleep. you chase away his nightmares like you always do, letting him sleep his first full night since you left.

he wakes up rejuvenated and embarrassed, sputtering out embarrassed apologies that you shush with kind reassurances and tender kisses. he’s reminded of how wonderful you are when you turn, arms extending to reach into your bag and carrying out a small stuffed animal that you say reminded you of him.

[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 1: Suit Up

EDIT: Written by The Maribat Pit Content warning: Swearing, there is a quote that is a reference to Titans!Jason, references to Chloe’s actions in “Battle of the Miraculous”. Rated: T Inspired by: that one Tumblr post that suggested what would happen if Jason used a Lucky Charm.   Prompt: Suit Up The kidnappers had Marinette, and Jason knew that desperate times called for desperate measures.  Marinette hadn’t returned home from her mission the night before, Plagg returned that morning without her.  He explained that Marinette had managed to free most of the kidnapped kids, but she was captured shortly after being depowered.  They assumed she was one of the kids that hadn’t managed to escape. 

Jason went from slightly worried to absolutely frantic.  Roy was still in rehab, and there was no time to call in the Bat clan for help, it was up to him.  In his mind, the more time they wasted, the closer she came to sharing his fate.  “Great, just fucking fantastic”, he muttered to himself “the bad guys have the girl you love and you’re here looking for her jewelry”.  If he went in guns blazing as the Red Hood, they would probably just kill her instantly and without a second thought.  That being said, she would probably kill him later for tearing through the apartment like this.   He was flipping the bed on its side, opening all the drawers and pulling out all of the contents.  He was trying to find the Chinese Miracle Box, thinking maybe someone in there would help him if it meant saving their Guardian.  He remembered a conversation they had when his curiosity about her powers got the better of him.

“So what if you were to, hypothetically, use several of these things at once?” He remembered asking.

“I did once, the Multimouse clones were using different fusions.  Wearing them all at once can be pretty draining, even the fusions can be pretty taxing at the best of times if I’m not careful” she explained.

She also explained what happened when her old classmate tried to put on various Miraculous at once and started demanding power from them. Suffice it to say she didn’t get her way.  So, by the sound of things, Tikki was his best bet, or he’d probably end up pissing off the other ones like Chloe did.

He found the box in her closet and opened it, to find that Plagg’s ring was missing and so were Tikki’s earrings.  He closed the box and pushed it back into the closet, before searching the room for the earrings.  She had said something before about Plagg and Tikki being the least suspicious of him.  Probably because their combined magic was what created the Lazarus pits, the very reason he wasn’t still six feet under.  He finally noticed the small red and black box sitting on the chest of drawers, and he popped it open to find the earrings inside.  He wasted no time putting the studs in one ear, before a pink ball of light appeared in front of him. The ball of light turned into Tikki who gave a little stretch and yawn before being startled to see Jason instead of Marinette in front of her. “Hey Tikki, sorry, no time to explain but Marinette’s in trouble” he spluttered, “please I need your help, I wouldn’t be asking otherwise”.

“If that’s true, then there’s no time to waste, let’s go!” Tikki exclaimed, “Just say the words and I’ll help you.” Jason’s mind suddenly drew a blank, as he tried to remember what words Marinette used to transform into Ladybug.  

“Bug Prism Power Make Up?” he tried.

“He doesn’t know the magic words?” Plagg asked slyly, “our Guardian’s life is on the line and he doesn’t know the magic words”.

“I know that you’d make a nice chew toy for Brutus”, Jason snapped as he tried to think.  “Go go Lucky Charm?” he tried, Tikki shook her head.

“Lucky charm usually comes a bit later” she rubbed the back of her head, “keep trying, if Marinette is in trouble, then she needs our help”. 

“Okay let me think, uh…It’s Magic Time? Ladybug Up? In brightest day, in blackest night...?” He kept throwing out suggestions, but Tikki continued to shake her head.  “Uh, Shazam?” he had to give that one a try at least once, Tikki sighed.

Tikki thought it was admirable watching him at least trying to figure it out, even if Plagg was no help at that moment.  It was clear to the little Kwami, she didn’t need to look that hard to know that this boy cared deeply for Marinette, even if he was hesitant to admit it at first.  Tikki remembered gently encouraging Marinette to confess her feelings towards him, while Roy and Jason’s brothers took a more…direct approach.  

“All right Jason, I’ll tell you the magic words but first,” Tikki told him and they both heard the Kwami’s stomach growl, breaking the awkward silence in the room.  Jason remembered why Marinette usually kept a cookie on hand whenever she brought Tikki along, while the faint smell of cheese usually meant Plagg was in tow instead.  

“Come on, let’s go get you a cookie” Jason said, “and some cheese for you” he shot Plagg a slightly irritated look.  As Jason looked around the kitchen, the only cookies and cheese they had were the cheap stuff.  Tikki tried to be polite about the fact that the oreo wasn’t going to cut it, Plagg just turned up his little cat nose at the processed American cheese. “Sorry Tikki, Marinette’s been a bit busy lately,” he told her before rounding on Plagg “what’s your problem?”

“You don’t happen to have any camembert, do you?” he asked, still refusing to even look at the slice of processed cheese.

“Camembert? Who was your last user?” Jason asked incredulously.  Desperate times were calling for even more desperate measures, “just hang in there Marinette,” he thought.

Jason wouldn’t be racing over to Wayne Manor if it wasn’t a dire emergency. Tikki was safely tucked away in his jacket pocket, while Plagg was clinging to the hem of his jacket as it billowed behind him.  Jason brought his motorbike to a stop just outside the gates, before hopping off darting past Damian, petting a sleeping Alfred the cat in his lap.  Right now, he was hoping Alfred the human was baking something that would catch the Kwami’s eye.  Sadly, he was not, a note on the kitchen door explained he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.  Sadly, this couldn’t wait until tomorrow.  He opened the kitchen door, the cookies from Alfred’s last batch were stored in a cookie jar on top of the fridge.  There was one cookie left, he unzipped his pocket and gestured to the cookie in the jar.  Jason reached up and grabbed the jar, before opening it and grabbing the cookie inside.  He also reached into the fridge and grabbed the camembert for Plagg.  With the Kwami munching on their snacks of choice, he dashed out of the kitchen. Plagg had practically inhaled the wheel of cheese all at once, and glided alongside him. Meanwhile, Tikki clung to the cookie with one hand and the hem of Jason’s pocket with the other. 

That morning, Bruce was not expecting to see Jason rushing past him.  He wasn’t expecting to see a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie threatening to fly out of his jacket pocket.  “Hi, can’t talk now, Marinette needs help, bye.” He called before disappearing down the hallway. Jason dashed past Dick who had just woken up, and Tim was on his way to the kitchen for some more coffee. 

“Was that the last cookie?” Dick asked, slightly groggily.

“Oh that had better not be the last cookie” Tim groaned, someone had better be dying if that was the case.

Jason rushed to his motorcycle, and slammed the gate shut behind him before hopping on and putting on his helmet. Tikki was halfway through munching on the cookie, when she gave him a quick rundown of the powers that she would be giving him.  Jason knew that the Miraculous granted the user enhanced speed, strength and endurance, he just hadn’t thought there would come a day when he would have to use their power.  It was probably for the best that their guardian didn’t choose him when he was 13, for reasons that a bunch of guards were about to find out very soon.

Meanwhile, Marinette found herself in a cage inside a warehouse.  There were two men guarding the cage, neither of them knew that Marinette was the girl in the black leather catsuit. They caught her just as the clock had run out on her powers, and they assumed she was one of the kids that had been captured.  She was a petite young woman, and they found her dressed in a polka dotted hoodie, shorts and tights.  She sent Plagg to go get help, and he had been gone for a few hours now.  She was getting increasingly antsy,  Jason was probably worried sick about her.  

Jason arrived at the suspected gang hideout as fast as could, leapt off his bike and grappled to a vantage point. “Ok, relatively small time trafficking racket. Now where is Pixie Pop?” Jason thought to himself, scanning the area from his vantage point. “Plagg, go find Marinette, and tell her to not transform until I arrive.”  Plagg flew out of Jason’s pocket and made his way there.  “Alright Tikki, what's the magic word?” The Kwami flew out of Jason’s pocket as he spoke, Tikki glided to Jason’s ear and whispered to him the phrase. Jason repeated “Spots On” and felt power coursing through his veins. It felt like Venom without the addictive or berserk tendencies, pure energy was flowing through him. He felt the uncontrollable urge to pose and move with the flow of energy, doing a flourish of kicks and punches.  It ended with him raising his left leg to his head, as if it was a vertical split and slamming it down. “Owwwwwwwwwwww” Jason groaned, “My thighs were not meant to do that.” He was not expecting the compulsive flourishes for the transformation itself.

Jason looked at his reflection in a nearby puddle, he could see he was wearing a full spotted suit and domino mask like Ladybug, yet his leather jacket stayed during the transformation and received its own ladybug pattern. Jason sucked up the pain and pushed onwards to the gang hideout.

Jason snuck in through a vent and approached a large main room, housing most if not all of the guards and their “merchandise” with cages strewn across the room with mostly women and children locked up. He finally sees Marinette, alive but imprisoned in a cage with a few other people in a corner. Jason needed a distraction so that Marinette could transform into Lady Noire. He had to do something to take the attention off every single person in the room. 

Jason sighed and thought of a plan, it may not be the most flattering, but it worked and it would not be so threatening as cutting out the lights. He burst from the air vents and landed in a crouch, standing straight and shouting “Halt Evildoers, it I...Red Bug?” 

This indeed worked as planned, as every guard, goon and hostage set their eyes on the intruder.  The guards began pointing and laughing, “Good, they don't think I’m a threat” thought Jason. The guards underestimating Red Bug was what he needed, so that they would not find him threatening or harm anyone just yet. 

Marinette took this opportunity to transform into Lady Noire. She wasted no time and began with Cataclysm, bringing down all the cages and making her way to Jason’s position. Both Lady Noire and Red Bug began fighting the guards, buying the hostages time to make their escape. As the last person successfully escaped the gang hideout, both Lady Noire and Red Bug stood side by side.  More of them began to trickle in as they heard the commotion and began to surround the pair.

Marinette needed to think fast, she didn't have much time left after casting Cataclysm. She said to her partner, “Lucky Charm, Now!” Red Bug raised his eyebrow, “Lucky Charm?” he repeated. He suddenly felt the same compulsion as he did during the transformation, his arm suddenly shot upward with the yo-yo spinning. He looked up to see a swarm of ladybugs converge to form...a purse? Red Bug caught the purse with a look of disbelief, Lady Noire looked around the room for a plan to use the purse. Lady Noire got a burst of inspiration and turned around to tell her partner of her cunning plan, only to be greeted by thin air. She was brought out of her stupor hearing her partner yell out “LIGHTS OUT BITCH!”.  She whipped her head towards the source of the noise to see Red Bug beating the guards with the Ladybug-themed purse.  “I guess that works too” she said to nobody in particular. Knowing she had little time remaining as Lady Noire, she started running for the exit. Red Bug had no issue dealing with the remaining goons. Marinette hadn’t expected Jason to suit up with one of the Miraculous, not that she was complaining.  She had expected him to come charging in as the Red Hood, or maybe start by picking off the guards one-by-one.  She was surprised, but it wasn’t an unpleasant one, mostly.  Since leaving Chat Noir behind in Paris, the fight left her feeling oddly nostalgic.  Sometimes she missed fighting alongside a Miraculous user, though Tikki might have something to say about his...unusual use of a Lucky Charm.  She walked over to Jason’s parked motorcycle and waited. Within minutes Jason followed suit and walked out the front door of the hideout.  A swirl of green light surrounded him as he changed back, and Tikki zoomed over towards Marinette.  Tikki nuzzled against Marinette’s face for a moment, before Jason walked towards her.  He pulled his girlfriend into a big hug,  Marinette is left breathless for a moment as he nuzzles into her neck.   He didn’t say anything, but neither of them really needed to say anything at that moment. Touched by how much Jason cared for her, Marinette returned the hug. She stayed in that warm embrace for a long moment, before reaching up and gently patting him on the head.  “Let’s go home...Pixie Pop.” Jason pulled away at the mention of the nickname he gave her, and before she could react, Jason began pinching her cheeks. “What did you call me?” Jason jokingly interrogated, while Marinette giggled like an idiot. EXTRA: Jason is sitting next to Dick and Damian in the Wayne manor lounge with two ice packs on his thighs Jason:  I don’t know how you do it Dickie, my thighs were not meant to do that. Dick (covers Damian’s ears): Soooo did you and Marinette…. Jason:  I literally beat up some guys with a purse today, don’t push me.

[guacam011y]

***SPOILERS FOR WANDAVISION EPISODE 6***

So I’m still processing everything but holy shite that ep was wild...

FIRST THINGS FIRST - WANDA, VISION, BILLY AND PIETRO ALL IN COMIC ACCURATE-ISH COSTUMES AND TOMMY IN A MINI QUICKSILVER COSTUME

PIETRO CALLING BILLY AND TOMMY DEMON SPAWN - GOD DAMMIT, IT’S MEPHISTO ISN’T IT? HOUSE OF M HERE WE COME

HERB ASKING WANDA IF SHE WANTED SOMETHING CHANGED

AGNES ASKING VISION ABOUT THE AVENGERS AND STUFF AND AT FIRST SHE SEEMED GENUINELY FREAKED OUT BUT THEN STARTED LAUGHING MANIACALLY AND I STILL DON’T TRUST HER AND AGNES BEING DRESSED AS A WITCH? AGATHA HARKNESS WAS A WITCH - COINCIDENCE? I THINK NOT!

DARCY LOOKING OVER MONICA’S MED SCANS AND TELLING HER HOW THE HEX AFFECTS HER EACH TIME SHE GOES IN - IS SHE DEVELOPING HER POWERS?

PIETRO’S CORPSE - SCARED ME JUST AS MUCH AS VISION’S

MOVIES SHOWING IN THE THEATRE IN THE BACKGROUND - THE INCREDIBLES: A MOVIE BASED AROUND A SUPERHERO FAMILY AND THE PARENT TRAP: A MOVIE ABOUT TWINS WHO MEET AT CAMP AND TRY AND SET THEIR PARENTS UP

DON’T GO PAST ELLIS AVENUE - NOW I DON’T KNOW IF THIS IS A CONNECTION OR JUST A COINCIDENCE BUT ELLIS IS THE LAST NAME OF THE PRESIDENT DURING IRON MAN 3

TOMMY HAVING HIS SPEED POWERS AND BILLY HAVING HIS REALITY WARPING/TELEKINETIC POWERS - WELCOME SPEED AND WICCAN

A CALL BACK TO INFINITY WAR WHEN VISION EXITED THE HEX? SLIGHTLY DUSTING AND HE PROBABLY WON’T SURVIVE BEING OUTSIDE OF THE HEX - HE’LL JUST DIE AGAIN 🥲

I STILL DON’T TRUST HAYWARD - HE’S VERY SUS

DARCY BEING TAKEN INTO THE HEX WITH THE OTHER S.W.O.R.D AGENTS - HOPEFULLY WE CAN SEE THE OUTFITS THAT KAT DENNING’S WAS EXCITED ABOUT

I SWEAR THEY BETTER NOT STRAIGHTWASH BILLY AND TOMMY OR I WILL RIOT 😤

***FURTHER UPDATES***

So sit-com wise, it seems they were referencing Malcolm in the Middle as the twins broke the fourth wall and talked to the audience, like Malcolm did

However, the theme song has told the viewer to stop questioning the reality of Westview - which could be a little reference to Mystery Science Theatre 3000? - When Pietro first shows up in the title sequence, along with his name title card, the lyrics say “Though there may be no way of knowing who’s come to play” - Istg, I do not trust Pietro

Vision says to Wanda that he had to wear his Halloween costume because there were no other clothes in his closet, Wanda is trying to move the plot along and forcing Vision to play along

Evan Peters’ ‘Mom’ tattoo is shown, which is a tattoo he actually has in real life ! But could this stand for ‘Multiverse of Madness’ or some other red herring?

Pietro mentions to Wanda that if he had found ‘Shangri-La’ he wouldn’t want to leave either - Shangri-La is a real place on Earth-616 that was founded by a version of Vision

Tommy refers to Pietro’s speed as ‘kickass’ and then Wanda repeats that, saying ‘kickass’ again - Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Evan Peters (both versions of QuickSilver) were in Kick-Ass together

The ad for this episode was freaky af - the character on the beach who starved and decomposed could be a little nod to Indiana Jones, where a Nazi’s face melts in - and it could also be reference to Wanda being all alone and struggling to process her grief. The shark in the ad could also be Nightmare or Mephisto or just someone more powerful than Wanda offering her a new beginning with Vision or trapped her in some way - and is feeding off her magic? The flavour of the yoghurt is strawberry flavoured and strawberry’s are red on the outside and pink-ish on the inside - much like Wanda’s og costume and her magic being red 👀

Pietro and Wanda talk about their Sokovian accents at a point in the episode and how neither have them anymore. Wanda’s, as we know, has disappeared over the course of the MCU movies and Pietro’s just doesn’t exist - another nice little nod to Peter Maximoff from the fox X-Men films? Also, Pietro states that “I’m just trying to do my part, okay? Come to town unexpectedly, create tension with the brother-in-law, stir up trouble with the Rugrats (a 90’s cartoon 👀) and ultimately give you grief.” - in reference to the grief part, could Pietro be killed off again? Stir up trouble with the rugrats, being possible shards of the demon Mephisto’s soul, could this be Mephisto trying to influence them on a deeper level? It’s also many many common sitcom clichès

Pietro talks about how “I got shot like a chump on the street for no reason at all” - nice little nod to how Pietro was killed off unnecessarily and how we as a fandom still talk about how regular bullets shouldn’t have killed him

Herb is dressed as Frankenstein’s monster - Dr. Frankenstein created his monster and soon lost control over him, and he was created using electricity or lightning - much like Vision was created and brought to life by Thor using Mjolnïr to bring lightning down to his incubator thingy majig. Could this also be a reference to either Wanda slowly losing control over Westview or someone else controlling Wanda/controlling the citizens of Westview - we saw in episode 3 that Agnes told Herb to be quiet as it seemed he was about to spill the beans 👀

Vision goes towards Ellis avenue and is at a ‘crossroads’ of sorts - in folklore, crossroads are often used to speak to or summon the devil and are also used when an important character is making a decision that could change everything. He spots some citizens repeating certain actions and/or just standing completely still, could these be npc’s (non playable characters)? And now that the barrier of the Hex has spread, will those citizens now start to move? 👀 Also I know that all stop signs look like it, but the stop sign is also a red hexagon 🛑

Darcy scrolls through Hayward’s computer files and goes past a file called “Project C4-113” - it could reference Avengers Issue #113 in which Wanda and Vision both appear on the cover and she says she’s going to make the world pay for Vision’s death. There’s also another file called “Project M5-247” which could be a nod to Avengers Issue #247, which shows the origin of the Eternals and in the same vein, Scarlet Witch and Vision trying to help Captain Marvel. And when Darcy emails Hayward’s cataract plans, you can see the names of “James Alexander and James Gadd” - James Alexander is a visual effects producer on Wandavision and James Gadd works on post production at Marvel

Also: Agnes pulls as Mrs Hart and repeats the same phrase over and over again

After Wanda blasts Pietro, you can see on a fake grave stone the name of “Janell Sammelman”, Janell is a first assistant director on Wandavision

When Wanda moves Westview to save Vision, she turns S.W.O.R.D and it’s agents into clowns + a circus - I just love that the agents turned into clowns 😂 but there is a nice little plot line in the comics where Scarlet Witch, Quicksilver and Hawkeye join the circus - and this COULD be stretch, but earlier in the episode there is the number #22 which could be Avengers Issue #22, which is the Issue that they join the circus

As soon as Vision was brought back into Westview, he was healed - which means if he was to exit again, he probably wouldn’t survive 😭

The episode title is ‘All-New Halloween Spooktackular!” - which “All-New” is a designation that is often used on covers for comic books. And the first issue of the second The Vision and the Scarlet Witch series takes place on Halloween night - but the events in this comics didn’t influence this episode’s plot

Pietro points out that he has the “XY chromosome” - X for X-Men? Plus there’s the X gene 😂

He mentions “Uncle Peter to the rescue” - Peter is the name of Quicksilver from the Fox X-Men Franchise

Pietro and Tommy quote the movie Top Gun (1986) by saying “I fell the need, the need for speed”

Wanda almost seems hesitant to trust this version of Pietro (rightfully so, in my opinion) and is wary of him being around Tommy and Billy

Pietro says some very Mephisto/Nightmare-like things this episode - “Unleash hell, demon spawn!”, “The kids need a father figure”, “Damnit, if Westview isn’t charming as Hell...” - And if Pietro isn’t Mephisto/Nightmare, it HAS to be Agnes or her other half Ralph and Pietro is probably Ralph tbh...or could Pietro just be a scapegoat and Hayward is Ralph? 👀

The theatre in town, which is playing the Incredibles and The Parent Trap, is called the Coronet. There’s a classic poem called “The Coronet” written by Andrew MARVELL (Marvell, is also the true name of the first incarnation of Captain Marvel in the comics) and is about a guy who knows that the sins of mankind led to the death of Christ. He attempts to create a new crown for Christ’s head in an attempt to atone, but finds that there is sin in the crown as well, as the devil is within the crown and therefore he may achieve glory and success with his new creation 👀

Hayward’s confidential project “Cataract” included experimenting on Vision’s body, as was revealed by Darcy (my wife 💙 and Monica is also my wife 💚 and so is Wanda 💛, I just love women, you know? 😂). A cataract is a cloudy area in the lens of the eye that leads to a decrease in vision - is Hayward trying to weaponise Vision? Or maybe even trying to bring Ultron back? Or do what Tony wanted to do in the first place, and make a suit of armour that’s around the world? Either way, it’s for nefarious purposes

Who is Monica’s guy? Jimmy and Monica are off to meet him - could it be Reed Richards (Mr Fantastic)? Or could it be Victor Von Doom (Dr Doom)? Could it be Hank McCoy (Beast)? Or even Adam Brashear (Blue Marvel)? Or if it is a woman, could it be the Skrull daughter of Talos that Monica befriended at the end of Captain Marvel? Could it be Abigail Brand (A major character in recent S.W.O.R.D comics and an Alpha Flight Member)? Or even Toni Ho (Iron Patriot, and could she be introduced to help lay the ground work for my other queen, Riri Williams/Iron Heart?)? Or could it even be Sue Storm (Invisible Woman)?

In the background of the episode we see a number of children and adults dressed up as many different characters, which includes: Sub-Zero from Mortal Kombat, Jason Voorhees, with a sweater striped like Freddy Krueger’s and even a kid that looks dressed in an off-brand Charizard costume 😂 Pokèmon has always been popular, but saw an increase during the 90’s

Pietro and the kids are drinking “Kane Cola” which could be a reference to the 90’s drinks “Jolt Cola” or even “Surge” - it could also, with all the X-Men Easter eggs, be a reference to Garrison Kane, who was a member of Cable’s mercenary team “Six Pack” and is sometimes also known as ‘Weapon X’

The kid that Wanda mentions having a “skin thing” in the orphanage - could that be a reference to her Brotherhood of Evil Mutants co-worker Toad? Or maybe even Mystique? Maybe Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)?

One of the houses has a sign up that says ‘Macabre Mansion’ - another possible reference to House of M?

During a flashback, it’s shown that the twins are playing Dance Dance Revolution, which came out in 1999. Also this might be a stretch, but the boys have a dog plushie in their room the right - which is coloured red and black - could this be a reference to Dogpool? 😂

I love this show 🤣💙

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

I decided to watch the Walker pilot so you don’t have to. #2

Because I don’t love myself enough, I guess. Let’s continue.

Recap in case you missed the first part: it’s boring, Jared acts like he stumbled on the set and never heard about it before, Texan law enforcement must wear very pristine shirts and cowboy hats or they will die, I guess, the cinematography wants to be good but I’m not sure it knows how to do it.

The last thing I mentioned in the first post was Jared doing a thing with his mouth but I think you need to see it. It’s basically the extent of Jared’s acting in this show. I had nothing against you, man, I swear. I even got your autograph once. I’m not a hater. I’m just looking at him...

THE TITLE CARD! I had paused the episode riiight before the title card. You have to witness it in all its embarrassing glory

Whose idea was it??

Some shots of the city of Austin. Walker and Martinez (Mexican Lady Cop) are having lunch. She says she’s heard about him, he asks what she’s learnt, she says, I textuallty quote, “I hear you are the edge of the coin”. Again, we are not allowed to have any kind of slight metaphor without the dialogue slapping us in the face with it.

“Not head or tail, just... your way” Jared didn’t even come up with the metaphor in that interview, it was in the script. Unless he came up with that line, which isn’t even a good line.

She basically tells him not to get in the way of her career. Being a Mexican-American cop is hard! Such deep commentary.

They start discussing the case, which I had already forgotten about. The cop who was slightly assaulted and won’t talk about it. “Maybe whatever was in that truck spooked him enough to abandon his oath” maybe it was a monster. god I wish it was a monster so that’d mean I’m watching Supernatural and Jensen is in it. The “oath” thing is kinda icky, like they want to remind us that being a cop is a noble path. It is in some places under some conditions. But we’re talking about Generic American conditions.

He’s like “let’s use the traffic cams to see if we can see something” and he slips right into his Sam tone. Admittedly that’s a Sam kind of thing to say.

It was day, and now it’s night. Walker house. He arrives when his family have already started dinner. Except the daughter isn’t there, she’s out with a friend. “Isabel, some Mexican girl” Walker’s father calls the friend. “Mexican American, dad” the gay brother corrects him, a deep and interesting commentary on ethnicity in the United States, we’re weeping with emotion.

Walker apparently isn’t happy that his mother has enrolled his daughter in a Catholic school, his father snaps back at him. We don’t care. We’re not emotionally invested in any of this.

There’s some awkward dialogue because he mentions the daughter playing basketball, but she’s switched to soccer. Wow, it’s like she’s become an entirely different person in those eleven months he was undercover! Can you believe? Apparently she used to play soccer before, she’s come back to it. Whoa. She’s an utterly unrecognizable person now, it’s going to be so hard for Walker to get to know her again from scratch. Can you believe?

Then he gets a call. He needs to pick up the daughter from the police station. He does some Jared awkward faces and leaves.

The daughter (Stella) was at a party and was arrested for possession. I miss when possession meant demonic possession. Dramatic music plays. She’s there with the Mexican American friend, whose parents arrive and he starts a speech on how they should get to know each other better. It is so not the right context to start making friends. “Epic first meeting” Isabel says. “I’m so sorry, this is so embarrassing” Stella says. “For who?” Walker quips, like a normal person does.

He’s like, let’s go, and the girls hug, which is the only believable expression of affection I’ve seen so far in the episode. Can’t the story be about Stella and Isabel?

Father-daughter conversation in the truck. Apparently we have emotional moments in cars, which we have never seen on television before.

He asks what she was thinking, she’s like, duh what do people use drugs for. She calls him out for disappearing completely. She mentions how it was bad enough that they didn’t have mom. He says “we both got to stop acting like she’s gonna come back and put us right” which makes absolutely zero sense. It’s like someone wrote it on a note for how to develop the characters and they just decided to slap it into the script of the pilot. Remember these people haven’t seen each other for eleven months, he left shortly after his wife died. They didn’t have the time to process the grief together, why is he even saying that line here?

Meanwhile Martinez get home and we meet her boyfriend, a very cute Black man. They’re cute. Why can’t the story be about them?

He asks her about Walker, she says he’s a mess. Oh god. She says he was a Marine, “signed after 9/11”. Holy shit. He’s a Marine who signed up after asdfghjkl can’t you feel the Manly Trauma here????

He’s a Marine who signed up to fight Muslims after 9/11 and now has a dead wife, he’s exactly the kind of male lead character we need right now.

She says she’s trying to figure him out. Her boyfriend is like “dude stop thinking about that guy, he’s not at home trying to figure you out” and she replies “oh I’m pretty sure he thinks he knows everything about me already”.

This is the first scene that hasn’t felt bad so far.

Meanwhile Jared and his brother go to a bar. It’s very ~Texas Aesthetic~, and they’re wearing cowboy hats, of course. You are not allowed to go to a bar without a cowboy hat in Texas. “The brothers Walker” the flannel-shirt-clad bartender says, coming with drinks. Jensen Ackles makes a face somewhere in the mountains.

The brother goes to call his partner and the bartender starts chatting with Walker. She has a conversation with Jared’s awkward faces and she’s like, I guess you left because I couldn’t answer your questions about what happened yo your wife. This is how people converse in real life.

She asks him if he’s alright and he doesn’t answer, instead is like “let’s have a dance”. He doesn’t say he’s fine, but I think it still counts as a I’m Fine Lie Moment #2 because that’s what it is in spirit.

I know you’re bored, I’m bored.

They dance in the Texan bar, I’m distracted by the pool tables and wish this was Supernatural so we’d see Jensen Ackles play pool.

Obviously the dance is interrupted by work - a text from Ramirez who says she’s got something, “office 8am?” so he leaves because he has to wake up early. I’m not kidding.

I was kind of warmed over by Ramirez and her cute boyfriend and by the bar who was kind of nice as a location, when the next scene at the office immediately starts with Ramirez saying “My mom wouldn’t let me play with dolls when I was a kid, so Iearned about cars instead”. I die a little inside. It’s the second time she’s referred to her mother wanting a son...? So she’s badass because she wasn’t raised to be feminine...? Ew.

So they have this lead thanks to her knowledge of cars. They go investigate. I’m bored.

I shouldn’t have said I was bored, because Walker destroys my boredom by having Jared pick up a cross and start talking to “JC” sarcastically asking him for guidance about his kids going to the Catholic school. “Can you stop” Ramirez says, along with all of us.

By the way they’re in a workshop run by an ex-convict who employs former criminals to make figurines (like that cross). I got a bad feeling about this. Former criminal in cop shows is always code for current criminal.

The investigation leads to two guys who work in the store - “oh I know you,” one immediately says when he spots Walker, “you’re the ranger with the dead wife”. Walker is like, what did you say. And the guy is like oh I heard the story of a ranger’s wife biting a bullet near the border, guess you couldn’t protect her uh~~~

They exchange more provocations - Walker calls him some lowlife something and the guy goes to punch him and Walker beats him up. Violently. I’m uncomfortable. We’re supposed to think he’s exaggerating here but... he does get very violent and should not be a cop. Period.

They go to Ramirez’ house because he cut his hand. Her boyfriend is like “baby there’s a dude bleeding on your couch” I want a season of him, exclusively him.

She scolds Walker. Not because he beat up a guy with more force than needed, but because he acted stupid and that’s bad for her career. I’m uncomfortable.

Also, what’s bad is that they’re supposed to work *together*. He says he has his own way of doing things. Yikes yikes yikes.

She says that her theory is that they put them together because he always break the rules. Apparently she read up his cases and he always break the rules. The main character of the show is a cop who break the rules in half the cases he works. Yikes yikes yikes but also did I mention yikes?

No, wait, he acknowledges that he “bends” the rules, like that’s better! Yikes!

More bad dialogue, then Stella’s school calls him. She hasn’t been at school.

He goes to ask Isabel’s mother, who reveals they haven’t their papers yet, so any criminal activity would mean deportation. He talks about it with Ramirez and mentions that his brother who’s a DA could get in contact with the Feds to speed up the papers. Are we supposed to be like “oh what a good guy”? The thing is just creepy to me.

Well, at least Ramirez says something about it, or actually quotes her mother who used to say that the law doesn’t protect us. That’s why she ~burned bridges~ with her family! Apparently because she became a cop.

Ow. Her mother is not speaking to her because for her, her daughter being a cop is like a betrayal. But for her it’s a way to set things right! We’re supposed to think her mother is exaggerated. #notallcops #individualgoodcopscanchangethesystemfromtheinsideforsuredefinitely

Meanwhile their investigation continues. Remember the cross Walker randomly picked up to mock the concept of Jesus? Ramirez stole it. And now they find out there’s heroin in it. Alright... obviously the business that was supposed to rehabilitate former criminals is a cover for cartel drug dealing. What were we expecting. I’m tired.

Ramirez decides to work the case alone and sends Walker to look for his daughter. “I was that kid once, I always wanted to be found”. The impression you get from the scene is that Walker had forgotten about his daughter missing lol. Ramirez insists he goes. I’m uncomfortable with how many times people put on cowboy hats. Someone should count. We’re only 30 minutes in and it feels like it’s happened 80 times.

Alright, a break now! My laptop’s ventilation is running like crazy, VLC and long tumblr drafts are a bad combination. Or maybe it’s just my laptop being allergic to this show.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Anacapa’s Own: Get to Know The Mer on Everyone’s Minds

Posted 6/5/20XX by Mandy Tempkin

PORT HUENEME, CA - Visitors who arrive at Anacapa Island’s three islets for a day spent exploring its sea cliffs, caves, and natural bridges have been reporting another eye-catching sight entirely - that of a young male mer, seemingly separated from his family pod.

Sightings have been reported regularly since March 5th, when hiker James William Dodger and his fiance Mary Benson first mentioned that they had come across a strange seal-like creature sunning on a rock while eating one of the seabirds that Anacapa’s islets are famous for. 

“At first, we thought maybe it was a kid, like a teenager had fallen into the ocean and managed to climb out,” Dodger said in an interview with local TV station ABC7 shortly after the original sighting. “You know, you see what looks like just some guy from the waist up, and then we realized, you know, kind of all at once that he had a tail and also that he was just tearing into this bird, feathers and all.”

“It was pretty startling,” Benson added in the interview. “He was eating this bird raw, and that’s kind of when it sunk in that what we were looking at wasn’t even a little bit a human.”

At the time, Dodger and Benson contacted park staff on the island, sharing many photos, unfortunately blurred, they took of the mer, who appeared unaware of them and focused on his meal. By the time staff reached the location the two had described, the mer was gone, but some feathers and a few shed scales that were confirmed to belong to a species of mer known to routinely migrate past the California coast, helped support their story.

Tourists and locals both have continued to spot the mer, who has been known to greet boats as they ferry visitors between Anacapa’s three islets by popping up out of the water and appearing to wave in greeting. The website A Cryptid All Our Own, run by local cryptozoologist Anders Kirsse, catalogs sighting reports, maintains a photo gallery that is consistently updated, and states that the mer is sure to become “the new Loch Ness, only this one is real.”

The SoCal Daily Skim would like to include a disclaimer here that Kirsse’s comments as to the existence of Scotland’s beloved Nessie do not represent those of this website in general or the writer of this article specifically. 

The gallery is extensive, and the mer looks from the waist up like an adolescent male, with short pale hair and skin, dark freckles that seem designed to help him camouflage in the shallower waters, flat slit-style nostrils that can breathe air, and gills along each side of his neck. He has fins at his ears, near his elbows, and along his long scaled tail with a large flared fin at the end. His eyes contain no iris or pupil, only a pure solid green, and pictures taken at dusk or night show them glowing.

Marine biologists who study the mer have noted that it is likely he was separated from his family pod during their annual migration and is hoping to link back up with them upon their return. The mer is mammalian, with family-centered pods that can number up to one hundred individuals, and they primarily live in the colder Arctic waters, migrating south once per year and then returning after their known mating season. They communicate underwater with a series of clicks and calls that many find similar to whalesong, and are primarily obligate carnivores with some additional need for vegetation like seaweed. 

Biologists who have studied the mer say he appears to be in the middle of his adolescence. Mer are capable of instinctive geographical knowledge that far outpaces mankind, and biologists are confident his pod will return to retrieve him when they head back for their usual home in the Arctic with new calves in tow.

The mer are famously shy and reticent to interact with humans, and the young mer’s behavior confuses biologists, who have never seen a mer seek any kind of direct contact with humans before. It is believed that the mer calf’s youth is responsible for his unusual openness to contact. Nonetheless, attempts to lure and capture him temporarily for tagging have not been successful.

Park staff and visitors alike seem to harbor affection for the young mer, and a private individual’s attempt to capture him ended in a hostile standoff that required mediation by the Coast Guard. The capture, ownership, or even private attempt to contact a mer is illegal in the United States of America, due to their being listed as critically endangered thanks to increased human activity and environmental change significantly damaging their natural habitats.

Park staff has stated that the mer seems to understand that he was in danger during the standoff, and began leaving small shells on the rock where one park staff member spends some time drinking coffee each morning.

“If you didn’t know better,” Park Ranger Stephanie Blackhouse said in a short phone call with the writer, “You’d swear he was human. I think maybe we don’t know as much about the mer as we think we do.”

His family pod should return within the next three months, and Anacapa’s staff and visitors will miss him - and be happy to see him reunite with his pod and make the arduous journey north. But maybe, until then, he’ll leave a few more shells on rocks for all of us to enjoy.

Ed. note: As of 9/03/20XX, the mer has vanished. His family pod, who are being tracked by biologists, is still hundred of miles away. Park staff believes that he was lured to a boat and may have come into the possession of a private owner or owners. 

“Mer don’t do well in captivity,” Marine biologist and mer specialist Dr. Rachel Lachlan was quoted as saying in the initial announcement as to the mer’s disappearance. “They don’t last long. We are hopeful he will be returned in time to meet with his pod.”

Anyone with information is encouraged to come forward to park staff or local police and share what they know. A local business owner has offered a $5,000 reward for information that leads to the recovery of the mer.

 ---

@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @slaintetowhump @moose-teeth @wildfaewhump @that-one-thespian

[a-pirate-my-hearties]

Yes, Captain (Darling Hook smutty one-shot)

Relationship: Adult Wendy Darling/Captain James Hook

Summary: Wendy Darling and Captain Hook are happily married. They lead a lavish, decadent, adventurous life, filled with all the wonders and riches Wendy has never thought she’ll ever experience. They also very enjoy their bedroom life spicy.

And Wendy enjoys to play this particular game with James very much.

Inspired by a certain quote from Marquis the Sade’s works.

Warnings: BDSM, whipping, bondage, swear words, anal fingering, anal sex, vaginal fingering, masturbation, vaginal sex, just if it's not clear - THIS IS NOT A TRIANGLE

I was not sure who feels comfortable added to the tag list so I haven’t tagged anyone in this - feel free to message me :) And enjoy!

~*~*~*~

Wendy was married and happy, and overwhelmingly so. With no one other than the infamous Captain James Hook. She didn’t care for the societal expectations, she stopped caring a long time ago. She’s discovered that only made it harder for her to pursue her own happiness. So she threw that away and instead accepted her wishes and desires.

Both emotional and sexual.

James accepted her and loved her for who she was. Wendy didn’t need to water herself down in any way. His fire matched hers. He loved her intelligence, fierceness, her wit. He craved her passion, her stubborness, her fire. He adored her vulnerability, her softness, her sweetness.

And Wendy reciprocated with all she had.

All his wounds and scars, be it physical or emotional, were safe with her. James trusted her with his life and loved her more that the life itself. After all, it was Wendy who saved him from the dark abyss of loneliness.

He tought her how to free herself from the bounds of others’ expectations. Being a pirate captain, James had a fare share of experience in taking what he wanted and never looking back; he tought her the freedom of choice, even if his own were ostensible in terms of Neverland’s existence. He tought her that her vulnerabilities are safe with him and she’s no less beautiful to him because of them; because Wendy accepted him whole, never ever felt repulsed by his deformity or his dark mind, what else could he do but embrace her in the same open, unashamed, loving way?

Their open trust and fire translated into their bedroom activities. Another thing that James tought Wendy were the pleasures of flesh that were somehow unconventional and not to everybody’s tastes. But to James’s delight, they were to Wendy’s. Oh how much they were.

~*~*~*~

Tonight they were about to play their little game and Wendy was shivering with excitement. James instructed her on how he wanted her to look when he came to her. Since their arrangement required bondage, Wendy needed to meet up with Luke first.

Luke was one of James’s and Wendy’s servants. Part of his work was unique in that sense that he would assist them in what was almost impossible for James to do with just one hand, since his hook was rather more useful for slicing than tying knots.

It was Wendy’s idea. At first James was jealous, but Wendy assured him with utmost care and love that it was all about being practical and nothing else. And she happened to pick just the perfect candidate.

Luke was a man probably in his early twenties. He had curly blonde hair, light green eyes and a charming smile. He and Wendy quickly became good friends and even James took a certain liking to the open, honest man. They soon both learned Luke wasn’t really interested in women, so James’s jealousy disappeared completely. They also realised he was quite experienced in what they both enjoyed, so not much lessons about tying ropes or respecting boundaries were needed.

Luke respected his master and mistress very much and soon he became more of a friend that a servant really. They could trust him with the most delicate matters and be sure they will be taken care of thoughtfully and attentively.

~*~*~*~

James passed Luke on his way to the main bedroom in the mansion, exchanging a knowing nod and look with his servant.

This was going to be delicious.

He opened the door, doing it deliberately slow.

There she was, his beautiful godess, her arms spread, tied to two of the posts of their bed, kneeling on the soft matress. She was wearing a thin, silk robe in pale pink over a lace cream corset, matching undergarments and stockings. She was also blindfolded, so she could only listen to him, pacing slowly towards her, making her breath quicken and her hearts race and he would only chuckle lowly at her reactions.

"Stunning.”, he murmured at her, already feeling a slight steering in her breeches at the sight in front of him.

Wendy’s breathing grew more and more shallow the closer he got. Finally he was there, his hand ever so gently brushing down her neck, between her shoulder blades, her lower back, before giving her buttock a firm squeeze.

She arched her back towards him with a moan, then gave a surprised, but delighted squeak.

James chuckled.

"Always so enthusiastic, always so ready to play”, he leaned close and whispered hotly in her ear, gently brushing away honey brown locks from her neck to plant the gentles of kisses there. Wendy moaned softly and exposed her neck more, and James slid her robe down slightly from her shoulder to gently bite at the crook of her neck and lick a stripe from her shoulder to her ear. He felt her shudder under his caresses and smiled against her soft skin.

"Patience, my pet. It’s a virtue. Don’t you think?”, he continued his ministrations on her other arm, before giving her left breast a light squeeze. She wasn’t wearing any bra and he was so hard already.

Wendy gasped, unable to form a proper thought, yet say anything.

James bit her on the neck gently, making her gasp again and move against her restraints. "I asked you a question, pet.”

She gave him a breathless "Yes."

"Yes, what?”, his tone was merciless, yet polite.

"Yes... Captain.”

He smiled. "Such a good, darling… girl.”

He stopped and turned away from Wendy. She whined at the lost of his touch. There was a moment of heavy silence, and Wendy’s anticipation and arousal were only growing with each passing minute. She wanted James to touch her again so badly. But she loved their game too much.

She was waiting.

A few minutes later he came to her and she felt him slide her robe down her body. Another moment and there was a slashing motion, a touch of cold on her side and Wendy felt her corset falling down on the floor. She was left only in her undergarments and stockings.

James looked at Wendy, his forget-me-nots eyes now darkened with desire. He fetched himself a bottle of red vintage, a glass, put it on the small table near the bed and pulled a chair so now he was facing Wendy’s exposed back. He also had a riding crop in his hand now.

~*~*~*~

Wendy was pracically shaking with desire already, gooseflesh on her skin from where James kissed, touched and bit her. Her knees were already getting a bit uncomfortable and her arms slightly strained, but she knew she needed to wait patiently just for a little bit longer.

She heard him opening a bottle and the pouring himself a glass of alcohol. He took a sip and Wendy figured out he must have sit close to her when she felt a flat, wide, leathery tip on her back. She smiled and arched under her restraints.

"So beautiful, so willing, and all only for me.”, she heard a smirk in his voice. Then suddenly he was close again and his fingers were teasing her sex. She let out a long moan of relief. "And already dripping wet for me, too.”, Wendy heard in his voice he was barely restraining himself, but she knew his self control. His fingers left her and she complained but then she felt the tip of the riding crop on her back and buttocks again.

"I’m going to whip you now, my darling. Remember that if at any time you want me to slow down or stop, you just have to say a word. What are your safe words?”

"Green for go, yellow for slowing down, red for stopping.”

"Very well, love. Let’s begin… Count each strike with me and thank me after each, do you

understand?”

"Yes, Captain.”

"Good girl.”

His first strike landed on her left buttock and was rather gentle. "One! Thank you, Captain.” The second was much harsher and elicited a gasp from her. "Two! Thank you, Captain.”

She felt him caress the irritated skin before striking again and leaving her almost breathless. "Three! Thank you, Captain!”

The fourth and fifth strike landed on her right buttock and were as gentle as the first but the sixth one almost made her scream „red!”. Almost. Tears swelled up in her eyes but she bore the hit well.

"S- six. Thank you, C-captain!”

"Are you alright, my darling? We can stop now.”

Wendy exhaled deeply. "I’m fine, love. Please continue. Green.” She felt him kiss and massage the irritated flesh tenderly before striking the other buttock twice in a row.

"Seven! Eight! Thank you, Captain!”

They went on until Wendy was almost breathless but she did well. Her legs were trembling when they were done.

"Th-thirty. Th-thank you, C-captain.”

"Oh my beautiful, darling girl. You are marvelous, do you know that?”, he whispered in her ear. His hand cupped one of her breasts, massaging the flesh, rolling her nipple gently. He licked the shell of her ear and she let out a long moan.

"When she’s abandoned her moral center and teachings...”, he whispered, his voice hoarse with need, his hand sliding down her body, down her undergarments, "when she’s cast aside her facade of propriety and lady-like demeanor...”, he slid his fingers between her wet folds and bit her earlobe, eliciting a shameless moan from Wendy’s lips, "when I have so corrupted this fragile thing and brought out a writhing...”, James slipped two of his fingers inside her and she rolled her hips violently, "mewling, buckling wanton whore” – the word was degrading, but he spoke it with such softness and love Wendy felt warmth in her heart – "enticing from within this feral lioness… growling and scracthing and biting… taking everything I dish out to her...” – his fingers were now on her clit, making lazy circles – "at that moment she is never more beautiful to me.”**

Wendy was in a daze. She could feel his fingers inside her, his need pressing urgently through his breeches at her buttocks, her knees were about to gave out and that’s when took his fingers out, slashed the ropes and took down the blindfold.

He caught her just in time.

"You’ve done beautifully, my darling girl.”, he kissed her forehead. "I must have you now.”

"Yes Captain.”, she heard herself say. "I want you...”

"Tell me what you want me to do, pet.”

"I want you to fuck me, Captain. I need you so badly.”

James smiled and Wendy felt even more wet. It was a hungry smile of a predator.

"Will you let me fuck your other hole today, pet?”

Wendy moaned. "Oh yes, please Captain. I want it.”

"Since you’re asking so nicely, pet… Undress me.”

~*~*~*~

James was barely able to control himself at this point. He dressed lightly, only in his red frilly shirt and black breaches and boots so it was easier for them to get out of the clothes right now. Wendy’s fingers were fumbling over his buttons, meanwhile he kicked off his boots and she practically tore his shirt off of him while he literally slashed her panties. He took her in his arms and layed her down, their lips crashing in a violent, passionate kiss. Wendy’s fingers tangled in his dark curls and tugged forcefully as he growled into her lips and pressed her even closer to him, his hook dug into the bed post not to hurt her.

"James, please...”, she whispered, her voice strained with desire and need.

He smirked at her and kissed her ravenously before reminding her, "you’re forgetting yourself, my pet.”

"I’m sorry, Captain”, her words came out a moan when he bit into the crook of her neck.

"I need to fuck you now, my darling pet. Just wait for me.”

He came back a moment later with a little bottle of oil. Wendy already layed with her legs spread for him, a hungry smile on her lips, her pupils blown wide, eyes shining.

James took out a bit of oil and put it on his fingers. Gently he massaged Wendy’s tight hole that clenched under his ministrations. Wendy’s let out a moan and closed her eyes.

"None of that, pet. I want you to look at me.”

Wendy opened her eyes, clouded with pleasure and looked at James. His blue gaze seemed to pierce her to the spot, entrace her everytime, hypnotize her.

She felt his finger slip inside.

"Oh fuck, yes. Yes, please, Captain. Please fuck me.”

He moved his finger slowly, teasingly, in and out and it was driving her crazy.

"More!”

"What’s the word, pet?”

"Please, Captain!”

He slipped a second finger inside and she almost sobbed but his pace was too slow for her, so she buckled her hips impatiently. He chuckled.

"I think that’s enough indeed”, he said and removed his fingers from her. She whined but just a minute later he was between her thighs, positioning himself at her tight hole, the tip of his cock teasing her entrance.

All composure finally lost, James intense gaze was focused on Wendy’s green eyes as he entered her slowly, and they both let out sounds of pleasure and relief. Wendy opened her legs wider and lifted them higher to allow him better access and put them around his back. His thrusts were slow, deep and sensual and his grunts and moans were music to Wendy’s ears.

Wendy’s ecstasy was apparent, as he felt her slip her hand down to pleasure herself by rubbing her clit and finger herself.

"Yes darling, touch yourself”, he breathed, picking up a faster pace, beggining to chase his own release. "Come for me, my love. Be a good girl and come for me.”

"Yes, Captain – ”, she moaned out between the sensations. James saw her like this before so many times and he knew and felt she was close. His thrusts were rough and fast now.

"Come for me!”, James’s voice was commanding, his thrusts merciless.

"Yes, Captain! Yes, oh yes, James, yes! Oh god!”, she came with a shameless cry, now clawing at his back, he hissed, surely she drew blood but he didn’t care as he came just moments later, spilling his seed deep inside her.

They were a breathless, panting mess now. James took a few steadying breaths before kissing Wendy’s forehead and rolling out of her. She was also spend, beads of sweat on her temples and breasts and the look of pure satisfaction of her face.

James thought she was absolutely exquisite.

"Thank you, James, my love.”, Wendy kissed him tenderly before laying her head on his chest.

He put his arms around her, careful not to cut her with his hook.

"You did so well, my darling girl. I love you.”

"I love you too.”

Soon they drifted off to sleep. After all, they had a busy night, didn’t they?

**A quote by Marquise de Sade.

[shittylongcatposts]

To Hell with love - Sinnerman ch. 2 Priest au!

word count: ~1200 trigger warning: mentions of religion, contains some swear words

“Jesus, men suck”, her friend stated and threw herself on Miriam’s bed. The young woman started to explain what happened, not leaving out a single thing, while she tried to tell her friend all the dirty details that happened since the last time they met. That her now ex-boyfriend betrayed her, and even started to harass her after their breakup, claiming that she was the guilty one in this part, guilty for not even letting him sleep with her whenever he wanted to, in fact Miriam was glad they didn’t get to this point of their relationship at all, because she wasn’t ready for it. The young woman felt relieved that she finally could speak about all of this with somebody. After Becca listened to Miriam’s whole story she sighed and held out a pot filled with ice cream, waiting for her friend to finally grab the spoon and eat it.

However, said friend sat on the edge of her bed crying. She didn’t want to cry, actually she hated to feel like this. Helpless, and hurt by this guy, she fell in love with all this time ago. Miriam still had some feelings for him, even though turned out to be an asshole. But she also knew that after giving it a little bit of time she would feel better. Relieved. Free, and maybe ready to move on. With her friend slowly stroking her back and her curly hair, her sobs died out, and eventually Miriam’s mood started to brighten up. Soon she grabbed the pot of ice cream and started shoveling the ice into her mouth.

“That’s more like it! Finally you’re eating something!” Becca cheered, attempting to hug the other woman from behind, at the same time Miriam tried to swallow a huge spoonful of ice. But she failed horribly. With loud laugh Becca and Miriam fell over, neither of them being able to get up again. Both women started giggling and eventually Miriam stopped coughing.

“You sound like I haven't eaten anything in days” Miriam pouted and rolled her eyes and sat back up. Her voice was still rough from the small incident.

“Hey, I’m just taking care of my friend, here, I could also just go home again.” Becca said jokingly, staring at her with a grimace.

“Hell no you can’t, we haven’t even started the movie yet. Plus I haven’t seen you for ages, you can’t just leave me again and disappear for weeks!”

They both looked at each other with weird grimaces playing on their faces. When the friends looked at each other again, they laughed wholeheartedly. Oh, how much Miriam missed hanging out with her best friend.

That night they decided on having a sleepover, and to watch some bad movies while downing some wine and snacks. After Miriam finished rummaging around in her apartment, on her mission to find said snacks and wine, the best friends soon cuddled up against each other on the couch, ready to start the movie-night.

While opening up the bottle, the movie started, but neither of the girls were paying attention to it, both friends were focused on each other, looking up memes on their phone, laughing about nothing and everything, telling funny stories about their ex boyfriends and their weird habits.

Every now and then the friends clinked their glasses together. Each time toasting to something different.

“may he roast in hell.” “ Here’s to a new life”

The movie got better in the middle so their talking ebbed down. Sometimes it was silent, then every now and then Becca quoted something out of the movie, while Miriam called out some weird facts or things happening on screen that she noticed.

The movie ended with a glorious finale and Becca held up her glass one last time humming a very familiar tune, both women were slightly tipsy and had some difficulties grabbing their glasses.

“ To hell with lies, to hell with love, The pain, the tears, the broken heart, all of the above” They sang together.

When Miriam finally laid down in her bed later that night, Becca already snored softly, she closed her eyes listening to the sound of the darkness. She quickly thanked her friend for being there for her, but merely received a tired moan as an answer.

This was something she felt like she needed for such a long time. Balm for the soul or whatever people may call it, and she hoped this would never end. That their friendship would last forever.

The next day Miriam drove down the street after she dropped Becca at the Bus station. It was a pretty warm day and she hoped that her friend didn’t forget her water bottle. (“stay hydrated, Rebecca!!!” “Yes, Ma’am!!”)

The traffic light sprung to red and she stopped, quickly tying her curly hair up into a bun, hoping that it would help to cool her down at least a little bit. Then she took some time to look around, there was an old lady crossing the street and it took her quite a while. Miriam tried recalling the name of her, she probably knew her from her work, but she couldn’t remember. She knew she visited the elderly people’s home regularly when they planned their bingo nights.

Then there was somebody quickly walking over the grass in front of the church. The person dressed all in black stopped in front of the sign, rearranging the letters on it. “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”

That’s some motivational quote. Miriam smiled and thought of the old father, he would never do something like this. Even years after getting that sign it always ended up saying the same. “Come join us on sunday” That’s it.

The young guy stepped back, proudly looking at his work, he closed the bible and turned around. Now that the young woman got a closer look at him she recognized him as the new priest, the one who stepped in for Father Smith. With this proud smile on his face and his slightly disheveled raven black hair he looked quite nice. Maybe he’d bring some joy into the community for the other people. Miriam didn’t really notice she was still staring at him until he stopped to wave her a small hello, an angelic smile playing around his lips. She smiled back waving too when she saw the traffic lights going from red to green. Stepping on the gas she left the church behind, a flush of red hushing over her cheeks. God, that was unnecessary, she thought to herself, when she finally arrived at her home again. Her thoughts were still filled with that priest, it must be pretty weird to come to a community where everybody just joked about the church, despite the real strict catholics of course, but this small “circle” consisted only of five people, the rest showed up either on easter or christmas to say that they at least visited the church once a year. Miriam thought about paying it a visit again, maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. And with Sunday being tomorrow she actually considered setting her foot into the church again. After all these godless years.

hey guys, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, i finally had the courage to post it, yay. Stay tuned there's more to come. oh and the song mentioned here is called "To hell with love" a song from a german punk band called the Donots

[meichenxi]

Grimm’s Law and Verner’s Law: part 1 - Indo-European background

OR: how ‘cannabis’ and ‘hemp’ are actually cognates

tldr: sound change is cool and this great series of videos can explain it better than I can: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aal9VSPkf5s. this is going to be the first of a few posts on sound change in German and English. I originally wanted to explain the second sound shift, but quickly realised that it doesn’t make sense without any of the historical context, so please bear with me

What makes a language Germanic? Imagine for a moment that you’re an alien a la Matt Haig, newly arrived to Earth and presented with a sample of the world’s languages - or specifically, part of Eurasia’s. Some languages look very similar to each other; some very different. How would you go about building a hypothesis about which languages were related to each other, and which weren’t? How would you then test this hypothesis? And how, presented finally with data that shows your languages are related, would you explain how these changes came to happen in the first place? 

Before we go on to Germanic, though, let’s talk about Indo-European today. You guys probably all know that IE is a large language family that stretches from Icelandic to Hindi; Germanic is one of the sub-groupings of this wider IE family. Within the sub-family itself, there are divisions: German is more closely related to Dutch, Norwegian to Swedish, Icelandic to Faroese and so on. This seems all fairly obvious to us now. 

Way back when many centuries ago (not that many centuries, and certainly long after the Bible began), the idea of a language family spanning English to Russian to Farsi was a little less obvious. For much of the 17th century, people (esp a bishop dude called John Wilkins) sought to prove that English was related to Hebrew - this was an important endeavour at the time, because it would lend the language religious authority, especially in its translation of the Bible. Fast forwarding to the 18th century, a man named Sir Williams Jones who lived in Bengal realised - on account of his classical education and extensive contact with Indian languages - that there were much greater similarities between Latin, Greek and Sanskrit than anybody had previously realised. He wasn’t the first to think it, but he was one of the first to make such a definitive statement. The following quote is probably one of the most famous in historical linguistics, so I apologise for quoting it in full: ‘The Sanscrit language, whatever be its antiquity, is of a wonderful structure; more perfect than the Greek, more copious than the Latin, and more exquisitely refined than either, yet bearing to both of them a stronger affinity, both in the roots of verbs and the forms of grammar, than could possibly have been produced by accident; so strong indeed, that no philologer could examine them all three, without believing them to have spring from some common source, which, perhaps, no longer exists: there is a similar reason, though not quite so forcible, for supposing that both the Gothick and the Celtick, though blended with a very different idiom, had the same origin with the Sanscrit, and the old Persian might be added to this family.’

He was wrong in a lot of ways - he excluded some languages that do belong in this family and erroneously included others. He also wasn’t the first to come up with this idea. This quote, more than anything, marks the beginning of people’s interest in the ‘common source’: how could such a thing ever be proven, if we didn’t have access to the language itself?  Part of the building ground for Indo-European historical linguistics was the desire to prove that linguistics was an empirical science much like any other, with laws that held universally and hypotheses that could be tested and demonstrably falsified. This rested on two principles both promoted by the Junggramatiker, or Neogrammarians, a Leipzig based group of scholars. Firstly, that sound change - the process by which sounds change, arise and disappear - was a highly regular process that held universally and obeyed certain rules. Secondly, that languages that exist today are structurally and in principle no different from languages that existed thousands of years ago - that is, we have no reason to assume that processes existed in the past that don’t exist today. This is called the uniformitarian principle. 

If both of these things are true, that means that it would be possible to not only determine how exactly these languages were related, but also reconstruct an earlier version of the language once spoken by all Indo-Europeans!! (I hope you agree that this is immensely cool.) 

Reconstructing these rules is important, because it allows us to better understand structural similarities between languages. There are some similarities which are surface deep: it’s easy to compare English cold and German kalt or warm and - well - warm, and say that they look alike. Pfad and path is a little harder, but when you compared Pfeffer and pepper it’s clear, ok, there’s a <pf> / <p> alteration going on there. Leaving the Germanic family behind, though, things get a little more tricky. 

How exactly is venue cognate with come? What about English quick and Latin vīvus? And how can sister and Hindi bahan possibly be cognates??

Some of the most meaningful observations are structural; they are not surface deep, and they’re not immediately available for study. This is because, quite simply, the time depth since Indo-European was spoken is vast; there have been extensive sound changes in all of the languages concerned. 

And that’s exactly what Grimm’s Law is. It’s a sound change that happened specifically in the Germanic branch of Indo-European, so it’s common to all Germanic languages, and nothing else. It’s one of those diagnostic criteria that an alien would use to determine that Norwegian and Dutch were related: it’s present, apart from where further sound change has obscured it, in every Germanic language - and it’s not present, apart from in borrowed words, in any non-Germanic language. That’s what we mean by diagnostic. 

Let’s have a look at some examples! We’ll explain it in more detail next time, but this might whet your appetite. Don’t worry if you can’t read the phonetic description; it’s the consonants that are important at the moment (don’t, please, ask me about vowels. just please don’t).

(nb: where I use an asterisk *, this means that this form is reconstructed, not actually attested: we don't have any records of IE. > just means ‘goes to’ or ‘becomes’ in the various daughter languages. Also <these> brackets are talking about spelling, and /these/ brackets are talking about phonemes, or actual sounds. Also, the little ‘ means aspiration - we’ll talk more about what that means next time)

*p > f (no later shift in German, though /f/ is sometimes spelled v):

Engl. brother, Germ. Bruder (cf. Lat. frāter, Skt. bhrā́tā)

Engl. full, Germ. voll (cf. Lat. plēnus, Skt. pūrṇás)

*t > *þ (Engl. th) > Germ. d

Engl. three, Germ. drei (cf. Lat. trēs, Gk. /trê:s/, Skt. tráyas) Engl. thin, Germ. dünn (cf. Lat. tenuis, Skt. tanús)

*ḱ, *k > h (no later shift in German):

Engl. hundred, Germ. hundert (cf. Lat. centum, Gk. /he-katón/, Skt.

śatám)

Engl. horn, Germ. Horn (cf. Lat. cornū)

*kw > *hw (Engl. wh) > Germ. w:

Engl. what, Germ. was (cf. Lat. adjective & relative quod, Skt. kád)

*d > *t (Engl. t) > Germ. z:

Engl. two, Germ. zwei (cf. Lat. duo, Gk. /dúo/, Skt. dvā́)

BRUH. ISN’T THIS COOL!! AND THERE ARE MORE!

You can see here already by looking at the German and English that both have sometimes subsequently undergone sound changes, like English */hw/ to /wh/ and then finally to /w/, which becomes German <w> or /v/ - these sometimes obscure things. And if you really want to find out why German is different to English, well, we’ve got quite a few sound changes to get through before we get there! 

Melissa, you might be saying, I know for a fact there’s something yucky and not-worky about Grimm’s Law. What about cases where it doesn’t seem to apply? What’s that? Also, I swear some Danish dude had the idea first but just didn’t publish...

Well. You’re not wrong. But this post is long enough already. Next time, we’ll go over what exactly it is, where exactly it manifests itself, and how it didn’t seem to work 100% of the time...and I suppose I still haven’t answered how ‘hemp’ and ‘cannabis’ are cognates...you’ll just have to stay tuned! 

Bis zum nächsten Mal! 

[firefly464]

The Real World - Chapter 8

ok this chapter is slightly shorter, so sorry about that! 

Made in collaboration with @i-have-this-now​

Master Post

First - Previous - Next

~~~

The week passed by rather quickly, and without incident. Every day, Tommy would try to talk to Wilbur. And every day, something would happen. He would always walk in on Wilbur talking with someone else, or drawing up some sort of battle plans. Sometimes he would just end up talking himself out of it, mostly out of fear of Wilbur’s reaction. He couldn’t bear the idea of his friend looking at him with disappointment, and maybe even fear. The fact that he was lying only made it ten times worse. With every day he put it off, the harder and harder it became. 

Every night, he would sneak out to go and train with George and Dream. His knowledge of sword fighting hadn’t exactly improved much, but it was odd. The repetitive motions of sword fighting felt familiar to him, as if he had done it hundreds of times before. It didn’t make any sense, considering how he had never picked up a sword in his life, but it was definitely there. Perhaps it was muscle memory from the other Tommy? That would make the most sense, but even so, it was strange. Either way, his sword fighting skills were increasing dramatically. He was still nowhere on the same level as George or any of the others, but he could at least last for nearly a minute now in a sparring session. Considering how he had started not even able to stand properly, he saw that as an improvement. 

The three of them would trade stories as they trained, each one learning new things about the other world. It was nice, being able to relax and just hang out with friends again like nothing had changed. Of course, the swords broke the illusion slightly, but it was still something that Tommy looked forward to each and every day. 

It was the night before Tommy’s deadline passed, and the three of them were out training like normal. 

“No way. You’re lying, there's no way that's true.” George’s voice cut through the thoughts in Tommy’s mind as he tried to catch up to what was going on. 

“I’m not! I swear it's true!” Dream replied.

“So you’re telling me that I can’t see all the colors?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“That’s complete bullshit. You’re such a liar. I think I would have noticed something like that.”

“I’m serious! Here, look at this.” Dream pulled Tommy over and held up his jacket sleeve to the boy's blonde hair. “How different are these two colors?” 

“I dunno, they look pretty similar.” 

Tommy couldn’t help but burst out laughing. He had known about George’s colorblindness, but he hadn’t actually considered the fact that he may not even know about it in this world. It made sense, there was no way for him to figure it out. And if he had lived with it his whole life, then he would have never even realized that something was wrong. 

“George, these are completely different colors,” Dream said, clearly trying his best to not laugh.

“What? No way, no they aren’t. They look the same!” 

“Pffft, I swear that they are completely different colors,” Dream said with a laugh.

“Christ man, I knew your eyes were messed up but I didn’t realize that they were that bad,” Tommy teased, earning an indignant squawk from George.

“My eyes are perfectly fine thank you very much!” 

“Yeah, alright Big G, whatever you say.” The three of them talked like that for a while, late into the night. Tommy wasn’t sure what time it was when he finally left, but he had walked back to his little shack with a smile. 

~~~

Tommy stood at the entrance to the underground bunker for what felt like the hundredth time that week. God, he hated walking through the damn tunnel. It was small and cramped, not to mention just downright creepy. The memory of the piercing bell only made it ten times worse. Every time he stepped foot inside the small tunnel, he was terrified that it was going to ring out again, leaving him shaking, scared, and alone on the rocky ground. He had already chickened out from talking to Wilbur several times that week, just out of pure hatred of the tunnel. 

Now though, he didn’t really have an option. George’s deadline had passed the day before, and now his only hope was to get to Wilbur before George did. Tommy wanted Wilbur to hear the story from him, not from someone else. If George was the one to tell him, then he would likely jump to conclusions. Conclusions that George simply didn’t have the ability to explain away. No. Tommy needed to be the one to tell Wilbur. It was only right.

With a trembling breath, he stepped into the long, dark corridor. The silence surrounded instantly, suffocating him, drowning him. He shook his head desperately. He wasn’t going to let something like a stupid tunnel stop him. His fingers began to dance across the hilt of his sword, creating a slight pinging sound. It wasn’t much, but the soft noise helped to fill the all consuming silence. It was ok, he was going to be ok. The sound of his footfalls against the stone helped to comfort him as well. As long as he kept moving, the sound would continue. Just as long as he kept moving, he would be ok. 

He was about three quarters of the way to the bunker when he first heard the muffled sounds of voices. It was the sound of arguing, of shouting. Wilbur’s voice drifted through the tunnel towards him, echoing throughout the small space. “What?! Then where the fuck is Tommy?!” he cried out, his voice filled with desperation and fear. 

George's reply was faint, too far away to hear, but Tommy had a decent guess of what he had said. He didn’t know. No one knew. The other Tommy had disappeared and no one knew what had happened. For all they knew, he could have died. Fuck… that was probably what Wilbur was thinking as well. He needed to get in there, to explain himself. 

“That doesn’t- how the fuck do I know you’re not lying?!” Wilbur shouted. Tommy ran towards the sound of voices, desperate for a chance to explain himself. He needed to tell Wilbur the whole story, from his point of view. 

As he burst into the small bunker, he couldn’t help but look around in awe. What had once been a small, three by three room was now a multi-room underground house. Only the main room was surrounded by obsidian, but the other rooms had small doorways that could easily be blocked off and covered if needed. Tommy had to admit, it was an impressive sight to behold. At the center of the main room sat a table covered in different maps and plans. Bookshelves lined the walls, all filled to the brim with different books. It was the type of area that should have felt cold and empty, but was somehow filled with a lively warmth. 

At the center of it all, standing over the table, were his friends. Wilbur towered over George, staring at him pleadingly. “Where the fuck is he? How did you even know any of this?!”

“Wilbur! Will, I can explain,” Tommy said, putting his hands in the air to show he meant no harm.

Wilbur crossed over to the entrance in three strides and placed his hands on Tommy’s shoulders. His eyes burned with anger and pain, but there was an undertone of regret as well. Perhaps regret that he couldn’t do anything? Or regret that he hadn’t noticed sooner? Tommy didn’t know. “Where is he?! What the fuck did you do to him?!” He shouted, shaking the younger teenager as he interrogated him. 

“I-I don’t know! I didn’t do anything, I swear! Just give me a chance to explain, please!” Tommy pleaded, trying to get his friend to see reason.

“Bullshit! I fucking knew something was up with you, but I didn’t think that it was something like this! Who the fuck even are you anyways?!” “I’m still Tommy! Just give me a chance to fucking explain myself!” he cried, pushing Wilbur away. “Trust me, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here. I just want to go home”

“I don’t give a fuck about what you want. All I care about is the fact that you’ve possessed the body of my right hand man, and apparently you’ve been plotting with the men of the DreamSMP,” Wilbur snarled. 

“What…? Wha- no, I didn’t! I had no say over any of this! I was living my normal life when suddenly I was here! I’ve been trying to figure out a way to go home ever since!” 

“Oh really? And when did that happen? How long have you been ‘trapped’ here?” he asked, making air quotes with his fingers.

“I dunno, two weeks maybe? I-It happened during the duel with Dream…” 

“Right. Two weeks that you could have come and talked to me. Two weeks that you could have come and asked for help, or just told me what was going on. Instead, you sneak out in the middle of the night to talk with Dream. God, you’re just as bad as Eret.” 

Tommy’s eyes widened. “How did you…?” “I fucking saw you! Did you really think I was going to let you go out in the middle of the night without backup?! No, of course not!” “So you followed me?!” “Yeah! I needed to make sure that you weren’t going to go and do something stupid! Low and behold, you went directly to talk with Dream of all people. The only reason I didn’t confront you was because I knew I needed to trust my right hand man. But apparently he’s gone! He’s fucking gone and I had no clue!” His voice broke on the last sentence as tears started to form in his eyes. Hastily, he wiped them away. 

“What the hell was I supposed to say? ‘Oh hi Wilbur, by the way I’m a Tommy from a different dimension where all of this is just a fun video game. Oh also the man that tried to kill all of you is the only person who I can actually talk to about this because he’s going through it too,’” Tommy scoffed. “Do you even realize how ridiculous that sounds?! You would have said I was insane and then called it a day. I wouldn’t even have had a chance to fucking talk.”

“You could have at least tried! If you really are just a different Tommy, than why the hell did you not trust me enough to talk to me? I would have listened!” “Because you were at war! You were in the middle of a fucking war and there was just never a good time. Believe me, I thought about it, but you just always seemed so stressed out and I couldn’t find it in myself to add more to the pile.” 

“But you still should have tried.” Wilbur turned his back to the boy and walked over to the tables. “Who else knows.”

“Uh, Tubbo thinks I have slight amnesia, but other than that, it's just George. Dream knows since he’s in the same boat as me, but that's besides the point.”

He nodded gravely. “Right. Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to go out there and tell Tubbo that his best friend may be dead because of you, and then I want you gone. I want you out of my sight. Until you can tell me exactly what happened to the real Tommy, I want you out of these walls. Understood?” 

Tommy could feel his heart shatter. No, this couldn’t be happening. He had just started to get used to the supportive family that L’Manberg provided, and now it was being taken away. Even worse than that, he needed to go face Tubbo… He wasn’t sure how his friend would react, but it likely wasn’t going to be good. Still, this was what he deserved, wasn’t it? He had technically caused the disappearance of this world's Tommy, even if he didn’t do anything on purpose. The other boy was still gone because of him. “Of course… Yes sir,” He said solemnly. 

“Good. George, I want to thank you for bringing this to my attention. I may not consider you an ally, but you have gained my respect.”

“Thank you Wilbur. I felt that you had the right to know. Come on Tommy, let's go,” George said, as he walked past Tommy and into the dark tunnel once more. Tommy spared one last glance behind him before he followed George, trying to get one last look at his friend. All he could see was a tall, hunched over figure. As the two of them walked towards the daylight, the boy swore he could hear the distant sobs of a heartbroken man. 

~~~

be careful what you wish for :)

Master Post

First - Previous - Next

[chaoticspacefam]

6.  “How do you think this will all end?” for D'leah, please <3

Pinky once again picking THE juiciest possible combo of prompt + characters, everybody go thank her bc I had a blast with this 👀 I’ve been wanting to write a oneshot for this part of the story for a while and this is the perfect excuse mwahaha 

@palepinkycat here you go! Sorry this one took a little while, I haven’t had time to sit and write it out till now, but hopefully it’s a decent enough length to make it up to you! 👀

I have more to say about the body language I described in here (namely the significance of the “under chin” snuggles & also why D’leah Yelled At Abe When He Tried To Do It To Her At The End), but I have a Worldbuilding tag somewhere in my mentions so I’mma save it for that basically. More Tomato Lore gonna drop sometime in the next week or two once I’m done with the drawings skshsks I tried to do one for this one too but it was not coming out right so maybe some other time XD

I’ve seen a lot of fics explore what it’s like to have a Force bond and communicate with it but I’ve seen very few that deal with the “what if it breaks when one of them dies” side of it, so this is my take on what happens and how it probably feels for the “surviving” party; I usually describe my Force bonds as a sort of ethereal “thread” type thing that then connects their emotions/souls/however you want to see it and yadda yadda, so...you can’t tell me that snapping that thread wouldn’t fucking hurt ;-; For extra heart hurty, the song quotes were the main two songs I listened to while working on each “part” of this fic, so you can use them for ambience if you want ;)

As always I use the Coruscant Translator for (most of) my High Sith, translations are included on the bottom however :) (since the quote from the prompt is said in Sith, they’re gonna talk in High Sith sometimes being well...Sith :3)

Abaron is the best brother-in-law, I do not make the rules. D’leah you need to apologise to this man immediately 😂 she does, immediately after this (not shown) dw, I swear

Timeline/Setting: 3729 BBY (roughly/according to the still-holey timeline I’ve been working on since the “canon” one was released) Immediately post-Valkoriate takeover. As in, literally just happened slash is happening as this occurs.

Warnings: Character Death mention (Kissai), Breaking Force Bonds, Plenty of angst (it was from an “angsty” prompt list, after all! 😬) , possible slight gore (?) in the form of description of a former  injury from a concussion grenade (just to be safe lol), and ofc some Cuss Words (™) 

^^ these are ur warnings, click past this cut at ur own risk and I am not responsible for how you react bc you chose to pass the warning k thanks ^^

“Don’t care if he’s guilty, don’t care if he’s not. He’s good and he’s bad and he’s all that I’ve got. Oh lord, oh lord, I’m begging you please...don’t take that sinner from me -” ~ The Civil Wars, “Devil’s Backbone”

It all happened so fast, they had to react fast if they were going to save the twins, and D’leah knew that. She’d tried so desperately to help her husband, pouring as much of her Force energy as she could through the bond they shared. It had always worked before, why wasn’t it working NOW?! D’leah didn’t know, but she could feel him growing weaker and weaker by the second. 

D’leah - his voice was so distant and faint, she almost didn’t want to acknowledge the reality of it. No, no no, he wasn’t dying he couldn’t be dying, no no no…. D-Don’t do this. Sai… her grip on the control cluster tightened until her knuckles turned pale, they were already in the air. It would be easy to do what she knew he was about to ask...but it would mean leaving him to his fate. Could she do that?

Dimly, D’leah could hear Abaron chattering to the girls behind her as he made sure they stayed in their seats, but she couldn’t hear the words any of them were saying, there was just him and that horrible, ominous weakness bleeding from her husband’s end of the bond. 

You need to run… Kissai urged her. PROMISE me. The girls-

I can’t...not without you! her mind-voice caught as if the words were difficult to form, she felt him slip further away and frantically tried to bolster his strength up again, but somehow, she couldn’t put her finger on how, it only seemed to make the other Pureblood weaker. Sai, snichi… she pleaded, and she could feel the barest attempt at a smile from her husband as he gave her his final farewell, 

Nu aki j’us, D’leah. RUN. For me...

His words were far weaker now, more forced, as if even Kissai knew he was running out of time to convey his plea. D’leah realised with a growing sense of horror that they really didn’t have another option, she had to protect their daughters. She reached towards the navcomputer to punch in the quickest hyperspace code she could think of that would get them as far away from Imperial Space as possible, but never managed to get there. 

The pain hit her so fast that D’leah had no time to prepare for it even if in reality, she’d known it was coming. First, came the white-hot metal rod of pain that jammed right down the center of her spine. Every nerve ending felt like it was on fire and it was this that was enough to cause her to cry out in pain and lose her grip on the ship’s controls as the Pureblood was thrown sideways in her seat. She managed to fall with just enough grace to get herself out of Abaron’s way and as she hit the floor and the pain kept coming, she faintly heard the man curse in High Sith as he lunged across to take her place in the pilot’s seat before they nose-dived into Force-only-knows what, out here in open space like they were. 

Then she felt the thread of Force energy between herself and her husband straining, threatening to snap, and before long, it did. D’leah knew logically there was nothing she could do to stop it, and that trying would make it hurt more, but she was desperate and on reflex she could not help but try. Frantically, she reached out with her own Force energy and clasped for each thread as it tore away from her, bit by bit, as if clutching at the strings would somehow, futilely, keep him here. Would let him live. But still, the pain came again, and again, and she fancied that the sinews of flesh being ripped from bone when she lost part of her face to that concussion grenade had been less painful than this. “No...no no no no please...please! NO!!!” Everything else was so faint and far-away in comparison that D’leah didn’t realise that her scream had been out loud this time, her fingers fumbling for her heart, though she couldn’t rightly tell if that was where the pain was truly coming from and it was simply a reflexive reaction. 

For a long while she clenched her teeth through wave after wave of pain, and while it didn’t stop, it became easier with every breath for D’leah to push it into the background. Slowly, the Pureblood’s blurry vision cleared and she realised the twins were staring down at her, wide-eyed in horror. 

She needed to get up. She needed to go to them, she needed to be strong. For them.

Saarai reached for her first, but she scooped both of them up into her arms as best as she was able, all but falling into the seat where the twins had been huddled moments before. The girls both clamored to settle themselves as close to her as they could without pushing the other out of her grasp too. D’leah held onto them as tightly as she could, only vaguely aware of Saarai’s voice as she chattered a question up at her, catching every second word or so. “Moooom!” as she reached up towards her again, and “Dad...gonna find us...right?” 

Their mother shushed them softly, adjusting her grip to fit both of the twins, as best she was able, beneath her chin. Safe. They were safe there.

“Shhh, shh-shh, my little one.” she croaked shakily, a tremor passing through her frame as she tried to keep her voice steady and convincing through the lie. “He’ll catch up later, don’t you worry.” 

They sat in silence, D’leah clutching them against her chest as if they, too, might disappear if she let them go for even one second, and Abaron took over piloting the ship so that she didn’t have to. He’d practically done all the work already, anyway. She risked a glance down at her daughters, and caught the wary glint in Saarai’s golden eyes, the sideward glance at her sister, and she knew that they knew it was a lie. But she had not the heart to tell them that yet. Not now, through the tears that had begun to stream from her eyes despite her attempts to hold them at bay. She did not mean to cry, but what else could she do??

Saarai’s tiny fingers reached up shakily, when she realised what they were, to brush the liquid tracks from her chin and the spurs on her jaw. It only made her cry more and hold them tighter.

“Nunchi woiunoks, oi ai utja…” she breathed soothingly, hoping it was convincing enough for the twins. “Mom’s got you...nothing is ever going to hurt you while I’m here.” She held them like that right until they landed.

“The daughter of a lawyer, told the fallen priest “it’s a cold, cold place in the arms of a thief”, And tapping at the arrow in her heel, she said “LEAVE ME ALONE! ...but just don’t leave me here, alright?” Alright..” ~ Iron & Wine, “Arms of a Thief” 

By the time they arrived at their destination, some planet called “Rishii” that she doesn’t ever recall knowing of before - but perhaps that’s a good thing - and Abaron managed to find them a place to stay, the pain she had felt had dulled to more of a phantom throbbing than anything else. But her consciousness felt vulnerable and empty without Kissai’s own Force presence winding around hers, she felt alone, even though physically she was not. D’leah had sung and rocked the twins to sleep, with some effort, and glanced down at them as they slept, Ni’kasi’s arms curled around her sister as she burrowed under her chin for comfort beneath the blanket their mother had tucked around them.

The pain was gone, and in its wake came the FURY. It bubbled to the surface all too quickly, and D’leah began to tremble again, a growl rumbling deep in her throat as she realised that first, the girls were theoretically out of danger, and secondly, she still had a ship. She could go back. 

“I’m going to kill that fucker.” the Pureblood wheeled for the door, only to find it blocked by Abaron, who seemed to have pre-empted her outburst. She stopped short, a hiss slipping past her teeth as her lip curled back to show her fangs briefly. “Abe. Move.” she snarled, resisting the urge to shout so as to not wake Saarai and Ni’kasi from their slumber. The tips of Abaron’s jaw spurs shook as, for once in his life, he declined to follow her order. 

“No. My Lord, I can’t let you do that.”

It took every ounce of her self control not to do worse, but as it was, D’leah tried to lunge for him so she could force her way past, he might not have been taller than her but he was stronger, and heavier too. The man reacted just as quickly, his own hands closing around her wrists to push back and keep her in place, his own feet firmly rooted in the doorway as he grunted. “D’leah! Listen to me, please!” 

The tears threatened to come to the surface again, her eyes burning hot, though this time the matriarch forced them down, though her voice still quivered as she spat, each word punctuated with a quiver in her voice.

“You have no idea how I am feeling right now!”

“Not wholly, no.” Abaron argued, releasing her arms as she dropped them back to her sides, her remaining spurs still rattling softly in agitation. “But I know that going back there now is foolish, my Lord!” 

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way!” D’leah hissed, though she didn’t have the strength left after the manic dash away from Kaas to call the lightning to her fingertips and lend to the threat she was trying to punctuate. “H-He is sitting there, on our homeworld, w-with our people’s blood on his hands!” she tried to shove him again, but her fist connected dully with the plated armour on the other Pureblood’s chest and didn’t make much of an impact on him. “They’re all dead and y-you just want me to -!!” 

“I’m trying to protect you, my Lord!” his teeth flashed back at her, yet another thing she would not have stood for if she was half as lucid as usual. He continued on further, his voice a low, agitated growl as he lowered his face to hers as if to punctuate his point. “That is my charge, it’s what you bid me to do and I will not have you risking your life for such a foolish venture, you’re not thinking straight! We are the only ones left! It’s my duty to make sure that all three of you stay alive!” 

She flinched at the reminder. Them, and Vowrawn, perhaps...if he was sneaky enough. But Abaron was right, going back would put him at risk, too. His eyes searched hers frantically, and his hands remained raised as if Abaron wasn’t completely sure he wouldn’t need to hold her back again. D’leah was in half a mind about it herself, she wasn’t sure how to react now. And what her brother-in-law said next put the nail in the coffin, so to speak: 

“Dias dari j'us minti pa saû iki wisa qorit?” he urged, the words a muttered whisper.

The Pureblood matriarch felt her anger fizzle out almost instantly as the realization sank in. The girls....they were only children. They were far too young for this. Too young, they were too young for this talk of death and loss and grief; too young to have to understand if she left them here and did not come back either. Their father’s passing would weigh heavily on them for the rest of their lives, they didn’t deserve to have to lose their mother, and on the same day, too...

She deflated, her shoulders sagging in defeat, and another tremor wracked her frame as she dropped her own gaze to the floor for the moment. “Abe...I-” 

“I know.” he sighed, relaxing as he stepped up to draw her against his chest sympathetically. She almost didn’t react, until she felt his chin brush the top of her head and she realized what he was trying to do. Despite his attempt at the gesture being comforting, D’leah jerked herself away from him to growl warningly. “Dari nindz.”

He looked momentarily taken aback, holding his hands up amicably as he apologised. “I was just...I thought you needed-” “Nu sûa nindz zo ardira!” she snapped at him, but mercifully, turned away from the door and stalked further inside once more.

____________________________________________________

Sith translations, in order:

Snichi... - please... 

Nu aki j’us. - I (romantic) love you.

Nunchi woiunoks, oi ai utja. - Sweet little one, it’s alright.

Dias dari j'us minti pa saû iki wisa qorit? - How do you think this will all end? 

Dari nindz - Don’t.

Nu sûa nindz zo ardira! - I’m not a child!

[wreckofawriter]

Three Fatal Words

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Word Count: 1,580

Warnings: Angsty? Lots of anger, swearing

Summary: Arguments have always been a problem for Sirius especially when he is so close to spilling 3 fatal words

A/n: Hi! So I havent posted in a while and I'm so sorry, I've sorta hit a writer's block and I'm finding it hard to get motivated to write. Anyway I hope you guys enjoy this one!

Anger was not an uncommon emotion to Sirius Black. Sirius had spent most of his life in a rage towards those around him. He used it as a weaponized tool to attack those who tried to break the thick walls that he hid behind. He used it as a defense against those who wanted to see more than he was comfortable with. But when he found himself in a committed relationship suddenly emotions seemed spill out of him far too openly. He found himself feeling things he had never felt before. 

Love overwhelmed him like a tilde wave crashing onto him with such force it knocked him to the ground, but that love was paired with a level of insecurity he didn't anticipate. Suddenly he was never sure if he was enough, never quite sure if he was doing the right things. What if you decided that you didn't want him anymore? His happiness was paired with a fear he hadn't felt in so long. The fear that you would walk away taking all of that joy with you. His pride when he held you by his side was dampened by jealousy formed by wandering eyes and suggestive words.

But he hid all of these emotions with one overpowering feeling. Anger. 

Fights were uncommon at the beginning of your relationship. But as weeks grew to months Sirius suddenly found himself beginning to suffocate the love he felt towards you. The two of you still hadn't said you loved each other and Sirius was beginning to think you didn't love him back. He figured that karma had found its way around and now the one person he actually wanted to love him never would. 

So he swallowed his fear along with his feelings and instead of building bridges to his heart he built walls. Walls of anger. And he hid behind them as if when they broke he would simply roll over and die. And he believed that is what would happen. 

Fights broke out more and more as he became closer and closer to spilling three fatal words. Each day he seemed to blow up just a little easier until you couldn't take it anymore. 

"What the fuck is your problem?" You growled after he yelled at you for asking when James next quidditch match was. 

"I don't have a problem." He huffed back unamused by your clear anger. 

"Obviously you do if I can't ask a simple question with out you blowing up in my face!" You pointed out. 

"Oh yeah 'one simple question'." He scoffed making quotations around his words with his hands. 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? I was just asking about James next match." You glared.

"You are always 'just asking' about James." Once again his hands swerved as visuals while he spit his best friend's name like poison.

"You're kidding right?" You chuckled haughtily. 

"Why would I be kidding?" He deadpanned clearly oblivious to any issues his question raised. 

"How can you be so fucking blind!" You yelled, "Obviously I have a problem if you think I wanna fuck Potter!" 

"I'm the blind one?!" He hollered back advancing on you causing you to stand from his bed where you had been sitting. 

"Yes! Clearly you are!" You fought eyes darkening. 

"How am I the blind one when you flirt with every guy you see and claim your just, 'talking'!" 

"Stop with the bloody air quote because we are 'JUST TALKING'!" You voice echoed around the room as you mimicked his actions. 

"Oh! But you get to be mad when I talk to Marlene!

"Uh yeah I do! Because you've fucked that girl more times than I care to count!" 

"Try counting to five!" He hollered back. 

"So you're allowed to talk to a girl you've fucked FIVE TIMES and clearly still has feelings for you considering she makes it her mission to bore holes in my back with her eyes and I'm not allowed to ask about your best friend who is madly in love with another girl!" 

"That's not what I said!" He argued. 

"That's exactly what you said." You spat. 

The room fell silent. Tension so thick you struggled to breathe and your eyes began to water. 

Sirius glanced at the shine that now accommodates your deep y/e/c orbs and even in his fury he felt those three fatal words rise in his throat clawing desperately towards his tongue. 

"If I cant trust you and you can't trust me. I should probably just leave." You spoke, voice so quiet, he was hardly sure you said it. 

"Fine if you want to leave, leave." He shrugged as if it didn't matter. 

You bit your lip, tears stinging like bees, "Fine." Your voice cracked quietly and suddenly Sirius realized what you meant. 

You weren't leaving the room. You were leaving him. And with this realization he felt like puking. 

"Wait!" He yelled as you turned your back towards him. 

You turned around slowly, two symmetrical glimmering streaks shone on your cheeks in the warm light making his heart clench and those words once again leap from his throat. 

"Are you seriously going to leave me because I got mad once?" He glowered.

Your face had dropped all emotions, "It's not just once Sirius. You're always mad. Always." 

This only made his anger rise, "Are you fucking with me?! You're just going to leave? And do what?! Fuck my best freind?!" Sirius had advanced on you, his voice filled with heartbreak as if he were choking out the hateful words. 

"What I do doesn't concern you." You hissed angrily.

"Are you FUCKING WITH ME!?" And to the boys surprise you flinched away from him. Your eyes closing your head turning away from him as you scrunched your face in anticipation. 

Sirius was confused at first but then suddenly he realized. He had raised his hand. He had never thought of hitting you. He would never hit you. He would sooner jump from the astronomy tower. But he had raised his hand in frustration and you had flinched away from him.

You had now turned back towards the stunned boy. Your y/e/c irises now seemed almost black with anger. You glanced at his hand before locking your eyes to his startled grey ones. 

"Go on." You egged, "Hit me. I fucking dare you."

Sirius suddenly felt the dams he built crumble to the ground. Tears began to flood his vision causing the world to blur. He choked out a broken sob, his heart shattering.  

Your eyes softened, unknown guilt filling your stomach as the boy in front of you collapsed. It was as if someone had pressed a button and he just broke. 

He fell to his knees with an unpleasant thump, his hands plastering to his face as he shook violently with sobs that made your heart rench. 

You stood stunned above him unsure of what to do.

"Siri?" You asked softly all previous anger disappearing as the boy your loved wept beneath you. You crouched down to his level placing a delicate hand on his shoulder as your face contorted with concern. "Siri?" You repeated. The second you spoke again Sirius lurched forward grasping you in a desperate hug. He pulled your face into his chest placing his forehead on the top of your y/h/c one. You returned the gesture wrapping your hands around his waist and snuggling closer into him, enjoying the musky scent he emitted. 

The two of you just sat there for a while, crouched on the wooden floor embracing each other as if letting go meant the cruel scythe of death would take you. 

Finally Sirius gathered himself and slowly pulled away, reddened grey eyes meeting your own. 

"I would never hit you." His voice was scratchy and raw as if he had just spent an hour screaming. "Never." He repeated, his nose was red, eyes still glistened with moisture. 

"I'm so sorry Siri." You spoke, guilt weigh down your form. 

"No." He said sternly. "You have nothing to apologize for." 

You opened your mouth to protest but was cut off by his lips. It's not like Sirius and you had never kissed before. You had kissed more times than you could count but it was always rough, lips slamming against eachother, teeth clashing. So when his lips met yours so lightly you almost didn't feel it your heart soared. 

His feathery touch was met with more pressure by you, the kiss still soft and sweet, as your lips moved slowly against each other, your tongue slowly passing his chapped lips. 

When you pulled away you had to stifle a small moan of frustration from being separated. 

Sirius looked into your eyes as if he was peering into your soul, "Y/n." He whispered his warm minty breath fanning your face. "I love you." When the three fatal words slipped passed his lips he had expected to regret it immediately but instead he felt an invisible weight lift from his shoulders and he resisted the urge to sigh with relief. 

Your eyes widened at his abrupt confession and a smile broke your sad complexion. 

"I love you too Siri." You murmured softly.

Sirius felt his heart leap and he bent down, needing to feel your touch again. And all of that insecurity and fear and jealousy washed away like a wave. Because you loved him. And something told him, you always would. 

Taglist: @k3nz-doodl3 @songforhema @roslea @accio-rogers

[danishmiilk]

PART TWO. --- RENJUN

previous // next // masterlist

summary || a collection of crack stories from y/n and nct working together in taeyong’s pizza shop - ncity pizza. written from povs of different characters.

note || wow!! double update!! who am i!! also this is another mess aha- uh disclaimer i think none of us work in pizza shops with nct so- fiction!! pure fiction!!

genre || crack

pairings || none

warnings || swearing, joking references to a car crash, fake death of someone that never existed, one mention of bleeding

word count || 1.7k

taglist || @teasysan​ @hannie-dul-set​ // send an ask or a dm to be added to the taglist! though i have no idea why you’d want to be.

Renjun wasn’t paid enough for this. Taeyong, seeing that Renjun was off his (five hour long) break, immediately got up gratefully and passed the post of cashier (Yuta had already disappeared to who-knows-where) and online order/call handling over to him, assuming that he’d come to take things off Taeyong’s shoulders.

“No, hyung-!” Taeyong had already walked away. Renjun cursed himself internally for walking over to the counter to find his pen. It was understandable why everyone else avoided the place like the plague- once you got the post, it was impossible to pass it on to anyone else, and it was the most tiring thing to do in the place.

Face lighting up upon spotting the girl crouched under the counter, Renjun called out to her excitedly. Y/n only looked up at him pityingly, returning to sipping soda out of a cup he was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to have taken for free, “Nope. You’re on your own.”

“What are you here for then?”

“Damage control.” Renjun snorted. Y/n L/n? In damage control, of all posts Doyoung could have given her? She must be kidding. That or Doyoung really was going senile. The girl couldn’t control her temper or convince people that she hadn’t stolen their Pocky biscuits without scowling at them, though she was an excellent actress, so Renjun supposed it could work. After all, according to the older and therefore wiser Mark Lee, the possibility of all those possibilities being possible was just another possibility that could possibly happen.

“Ugh, stop laughing. I hope there aren’t any rude customers wanting to call the police on us for robbing them again, or you’ll have to call the police to report murder.” It was funny, really, that the bad things we say have an odd way of turning into truth.

Renjun sighed, recognising the lady stalking toward the counter as a customer he’d just cashed out a few minutes ago. Looks like this would be a fucking waste of time for everyone involved, seriously.

Putting on his best fake-chirpy voice, he forced a smile, “Hello, how may I help you?”

The lady slammed her pizza box down on the counter so hard that Renjun winced. “I want you to redo my pizza.”

Renjun frowned, “What’s wrong with it?”

The lady stared at him like he’d just suggested that Fancy by Twice was not the greatest bop of all time (it obviously was). “It tastes sour! I want a refund, and I want you to redo my pizza for free!”

Renjun cocked his head, confused, “Okay, so I think that’s against our refund policy-” The lady’s face grew more and more red, before finally throwing down the dreaded phrase, “I want to talk to your manager.” Renjun shrugged, tapping on Y/n’s head with his right hand, glad this matter was out of his hands.

Y/n could have stood up and pretended she was searching for something to keep up the facade of professionalism, but of course. Of course she had to crawl up like she was from the Walking Dead and flip her hair before turning to give her attention to the customer. Renjun winced even harder at her non-standard greeting- what the fuck was “Yeah. Go on.” and where the fuck was “Hello, how may I help you?” He hadn’t expected anything less- god, he’d prefer if the show unfolding before his eyes was more amusing. Though he was a tad more responsible than Y/n, at least pretending he was writing out something while biting the pen to keep his laughter back.

The lady looked enraged, to say the least. “I said I want to talk to your manager!”

Y/n raised her eyebrows, taking on a look of surprise, “I’m the manager.” She was not. Renjun bit even harder on his pen.

“Is this your shop’s rules? Managers sit under counters and sip on soda they didn’t pay for?” Y/n was getting irritated with the customer. Renjun could feel it. Oh, this was going to be one heck of an interesting show.

“I paid for this, thank you. And are you discriminating? I was in a car crash a few days ago and my husband died. My leg was injured, and I can’t even sit down?” Y/n put on a pained expression that somehow looked real. Renjun snorted around his pen. Y/n definitely had not paid for the drink, and he was even more certain that she was neither a widow nor the victim of a car crash. She turned around and gave him a look that very clearly said do not give this game away or I’ll make you supervise Chenle for a week. The threat was clear. Renjun bit his cheek so hard blood flowed and he didn’t laugh anymore.

“Oh,” the lady’s eyes softened for a second, but she stubbornly went on, “But you still have to redo my pizza.”

Y/n’s eyes flared in annoyance, jumping up onto the counter with more ease than someone who had “injured her leg” should have enjoyed. “Look here, lady, it’s against our store policy. And if you send this back, our chef might poison it.”

The lady slammed her hands down on the counter, “I WILL CALL THE POLICE ON YOUR CHEF! AND YOUR STORE! AND YOU!”

Y/n wrinkled her nose, “What’s your name, Karen? Anyway, you asked for fucking lemons and anchovy on this pizza, of course it’d taste fucking awful. Just like your attitude.”

The lady threw a pen at Y/n’s head, then turned and walked away without her (untouched) pizza, making sure to slam the door of the restaurant on her way out. Renjun hummed, “I think that’s assault, man.”

The door behind them slammed open, Chenle walking out to see what had gone on with all the screaming and shouting. Y/n turned around to look at him with a blank look, “What did I do wrong?” Chenle turned and stared at Renjun with concern. “What’s wrong with her?” he whispered loudly in Renjun’s ear. Thank god Y/n was still staring blankly into space, or Chenle wouldn’t live to see the light of day ever again.

Personally, Renjun could think of a number of things Y/n did wrong, and a number of things that were wrong with Y/n, but that was a story to tell the entire shop after they’d closed, so he just shrugged.

A mere few minutes after Y/n had sat down with a new cup of soda, another dissatisfied customer walked in. “I want a refund. I don’t want you to remake my pizza, I just want a refund. It tastes awful.”

Renjun turned to the side with a grin, ready to see another show. Y/n looked up at the boy on the other side of the counter and pushed her tongue into the side of her cheek, shooting Renjun a glance. The boy is cute, Renjun. Renjun shook his head at her. Whatever you want, Y/n. Whatever you want.

Y/n smiled flirtatiously at the boy, knocking her hip against the counter, “Sure. Name and number, please?” If the boy didn’t know she just wanted his number, he must really be quite daft. Renjun turned his head to make eye contact with one of the waiters, Jungwoo, and rolled his eyes affectionately toward Y/n. Jungwoo, all too used to her antics, only shook the cloth he was using to wipe the table in Renjun’s direction.

The boy blinked. “Han Jisung, and XXX-XXXX-XXX.”

Y/n very unsubtly wrote it down on a piece of paper and tucked it into her jeans pocket, then pushed a cup of soda across the counter, “Here’s a soda for you along with your refund.” She pulled the exact amount he’d paid for his pizza out of the cashier. Renjun’s eyes widened - surely she wasn’t actually going to give it to the boy just because she was enamoured?

The boy stretched his hand out expectantly, but Y/n just turned and dumped the entire amount into the tip jar. “Thanks for the tip, man! We really appreciate it.” Right. How could he have expected better? Though Renjun supposed it was better that she did this; he didn’t care who she dated, but he did care about his share of the $10 (which would probably be shared by him and Y/n anyway as self-payment for manning the counter.)

Han Jisung - that’s what he said, right? - sputtered and blinked, not having expected Y/n to do that right after flirting with him. Y/n prodded his arm with a finger, “Well, what are you waiting for? Off you go, and come back again!”

“I certainly won’t be.”

She shrugged, “Oh well, we have enough handsome regulars. Don’t really need you.”

The wind chimes on the door jingled, signalling Doyoung’s return from his lunch break. Eyeing the full tip jar suspiciously, he frowned down at Y/n, “What did you do?” Y/n smiled up innocently, “Oh? Oh, nothing! Whatever did you expect me to have done?” As Doyoung had come to realize, the more innocent she looked, the more guilty she was likely to be.

Catching the message in Y/n’s eyes, Renjun tapped on Doyoung’s shoulder. “See, this is what happened, [...]. But no harm was done, hyung, so don’t worry!” He put his thumb up and gave his best chirpy salesperson smile, only halting his speech when he’d seen that Y/n had finished pilfering the tip jar to get enough money for both of them to share.

Doyoung looked so furious that, and Renjun quotes from a later discussion with Y/n, he could probably have eaten up the entire tip jar if he tried! Although truth be told, Doyoung didn’t look all that scary. It’s not hard to look scary if you’re in a way too oversized white t-shirt and jeans, but Doyoung looked even more like a rabbit than he already did, so Renjun was more amused than scared.

“Y/n! I’M TAKING YOU OFF DAMAGE CONTROL, NOW AND FOREVER. AND YOU, RENJUN, YOU FUCK OFF AS WELL! SEND YUTA AND DONGHYUCK OVER!” Hm. Would Yuta and Donghyuck really be better choices to man the counter? I mean, Renjun was sorta skeptical about that, but whatever Doyoung said, he guessed.

Giggling and laughing, Renjun dragged Y/n into the back room, grabbing half of the tips before anyone else could see them and steal some.

©danishmiilk, 2020.