#I don't want to make light of actual addictions like alcoholism. I'm not. addicted I guess. but I'm absolutely fucking obsessive about shit

[running-in-the-dark]

and I'm having thoughts again

so I've been watching that John Larroquette interview that I reblogged on repeat for half an hour now and I'm just. man I am so very....... okay I'm trying not to say that I'm stupid anymore but god what else is there to say. it's making me feel like my brain just turns off and all there is is static and [insert very high frequency screaming sound].

like I would love to be able to have actual thoughts about this shit but I am not. I just love love love people who think about shit and face their issues and work on getting better. and talk about it. like it's just a thing that happened. because it is. it's not 'oh you did bad shit in your past so you're fucked forever now'. it's 'bad shit happened, I did bad things, I confronted it, I made different choices' and that's it. I just. man I'm feeling really emotional and am probably gonna have a good long cry about this now.

[vxsellie]

𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔤𝔬. — E.W

summary. ellie slipped between your fingers, falling right out of your grasp as though she were liquid. it was better for you both, sure, but that doesn't make losing her any easier. ⌇ 4.7k wc.

notes. i posted a poll a few weeks ago asking what u guys wanted to see & this was ur answer so here she is! i hope it lives up to ur guys standards! anyway,, first and foremost, this is based off of the songs 'your needs, my needs' & 'call your mom' by noah kahan. he does a fantastic job depicting addiction and the impact of its severity. i heavily suggest listening to those songs in order to grasp the depth of what i'm trying to portray here.

second, i want to preface this by saying that i am not romanticizing or promoting addiction in any way whatsoever. drugs & alcohol are horrible coping mechanisms. as someone who has lost many loved ones to such horridly, i'm writing this in an attempt to shine light on the raw, dark side of what this can lead to. if u or anyone u know is struggling with something similar to ellie in this story, my DMs are always open!

warnings. graphic depictions of death and grief, substance abuse, alcohol & drug addiction, brief toxicity, intoxicated arguments, flashbacks, mentions of vomit, unintentional suicide attempt, angst angst angst

FEBRUARY.

cold fingertips brush the skin of your cheekbone, rousing you from slumber. you know who it is without having to open your eyes, her voice proof of that. ellie's breath still smells of her minty toothpaste as it fans across your face. she leans down to press a kiss to your nose. "good mornin'."

you groan, draping an arm over your eyes. ellie chuckles, her footsteps padding across the hardwood flooring of your shared bedroom. metal scrapes against itself as she pulls the curtains back, allowing sunlight to file through the space. your groans only grow in volume at this, pulling the duvet over your head.

"it's too early." you grumble, voice muffled beneath the pleated fabric.

"baby," she crosses the room back to the bed. you feel the mattress dip under her weight as she sits down on the edge, one of her hands coming to massage the calf of you leg. "it's almost noon."

begrudgingly, you peel the blanket away from your face and frown at her. auburn hair glows like a halo around the crown of her head, her freckles catching the light against her fair skin. oh and those eyes. god, you could look into them until the world came crumbling around you — which it technically has, considering the apocalyptic milieu that encompasses jackson.

"it's saturday, els." you tell her. "we can sit around and do nothing all day."

a smile tugs at her lips, dimples adorning her skin. "actually, maria wanted our help in the gardens today, remember? you got drunk a few weeks ago and agreed."

"oh. i was really excited to be unproductive." you sigh, expression falling. "we could've made breakfast, cozied up on the couch, watched a few sad movies, have sex. y'know, the domestic crap that elderly couples do?"

"first of all, i already made you breakfast." she says, nodding her head in the direction of the opened door. you turn toward it, craning your neck to peer through the doorway. sure enough, there's a plate of eggs and bacon sitting untouched on the countertop in the kitchen. "second, we can still cuddle and watch movies after helping maria. third, we can have sex whenever we want. we don't need to plan it out like teenagers anymore."

you grin at her, "yeah, but where's the fun in that?"

she laughs, the sound melodic. it carries through the air like a hymn, alighting the nerves within you like an ignited flame. if you were a wick, ellie would forever be the match. she lights you up, acting as apollo to your icarus. well. without the harsh fall, of course.

"c'mon, stupid." she says, grabbing you by the wrists and pulling you into a sitting position. you allow yourself to be pulled, dramatizing ellie's haste as you flop forward, leaning against her chest. it shakes with laughter as she removes a hand from your wrist to run her fingers through your hair.

it's matted and unbrushed, though she loves it just the same. loves you just the same. no matter how bad your breath smells in the mornings or how tangled your hair, ellie would never dream of complaining. why would she? to be given the chance to wake up next to you each day, she'd do anything. even if that includes putting up with your silly jokes and your dysania.

domesticity is irrefutably ellie's absolute favorite thing in the world. to make breakfast for you, moving about the kitchen you'd decorated together. to brush her teeth beside you. to give you a gentle kiss before leaving the house. to spend the day longing for your embrace. to come home to you warming dinner over the stove. to listen to you ramble on about your day over the meal. to take a shower where your shampoos sit side by side, her having to use yours when her own runs low. to return to bed to see you dressed into something cozy. to latch onto you under the blankets, limbs tangling together. to smell your hair and know hers smells the same. to fall asleep in the proximity of the girl she loves.

that's her favorite. that's what she'd rather eat glass than live without. and she'd never fathom the idea of doing it with anyone else.

MARCH.

the day joel dies is hard on everyone. he was a glue to the town of jackson, his country drawl and greying hair fading together into a soft presence that was adored by all.

especially by ellie.

and you knew this better than anyone. she loved joel like a father, perhaps even more so. she looked up to him as though the man had hung the stars in the sky. when he died, everything good and right in the world died alongside him. including ellie's gentility. her green eyes hardened, her smiles thinned, her hair matted. she was a wreck.

she doesn't do anything, though nobody in town expects her to. you've picked up on all the chores around the house, refusing to make her do anything in such a state of grief. she holes up in the bedroom all day, never leaving bed. not even to eat.

the first few days of this, you had to force her to eat, coaxing her into opening her mouth and having to remind her to chew. she claimed it tasted like chalk and she needed to spit it out. she cried when you refused to let her. "i don't want it." she'd repeated over and over between sobs, despite only having taken a bite of the stew you made. she leaned on you, her greasy hair falling over her face. you rubbed her back, the vertebrae of her spine poking through her skin.

"i know baby, i know." you whispered. it took everything in you not to start crying at the sound of her sobs, but you knew that would only make things worse. so you stayed beside her until her cries ceased and her limbs fell limp against you. you then laid her back against the mattress, making a mental note to approach this better next time.

she eventually got better at eating, though progress was slow. she's now currently able to eat one meal a day without puking it back up from nausea. the amount of times you've held that poor girl's hair back for her is immeasurable. she's not herself. and it pains you to see her like this, but you haven't a clue how else to handle it.

it's been two weeks since joel's death. ellie has still yet to leave the house and rarely leaves the bed, though she goes to the bathroom now. so thats good. you think it is, at least. she still needs to be reminded when to eat and needs help in the shower sometimes, or she'll stay in there for hours without even touching the soaps. her mind is a plethora of nonsense, malarkey acting as the puppeteer to her every waking thought.

"here," you speak softly, reaching across the tub to grab her shampoo. when you pick it up, you register that it's barely been used. you frown at this. "ellie, why—"

"i like yours better." she mutters, so quiet you can barely hear her voice.

"what? you never liked mine better." you say with a frown, though you don't hesitate to oblige her request. you place her shampoo down and grab your own. "you've always insisted that we buy that specific brand for you."

"yeah, because it's the brand joel uses- uh, used."

your movements cease, heart clenching. her voice cracked as she spoke, eyes burning as she swallowed harshly. you take a deep breath to ground yourself, blowing out through your mouth. you can not cry right now. not in front of her.

you'd made that mistake last week. you started crying when you saw her journal and all the crossed out drawings of joel. she frowned, appearing genuinely confused by your sadness. she comforted you, which only made you sob harder. you felt so, so guilty for it because she's the one who should be comforted, not you. but she's so loving that she can't even stomach seeing you upset.

as you apply your own shampoo into ellie's scalp, massaging it to bubbles, you decide that you'd do anything for her. for your light, your apollo.

MAY.

it's like living with a ghost. two months since joel's death and ellie has begun to change. drastically. she's never home anymore, always hanging out with her friends or busying herself with work. you have the sneaking suspicion that it's her way of keeping her mind from succumbing to that aching grief that embodied her in march. so you say nothing, deciding to let her be.

though, admittedly, you begin to wonder what she does when she doesn't come home. when she stays out for three days without telling you where she's going nor been. when you cook dinner for two, only to eat for one. when your shampoo sits in your shower only used on one scalp.

you've found it hard to fall asleep alone after living with ellie for so long. you'd grown dependent on the comfort her presence provides. tangling your legs together under the blanket while her arms wrap around your waist. now, in her stead lies an empty mattress and unwrinkled sheets.

it's currently been three days since you last saw ellie. you're sitting at the dinner table alone, picking at your pasta when you hear a rapid knock at the door. you instantly perk up.

you hope it's ellie, though you wonder why she doesn't just let herself in. she has her own set of keys, so why knock?

you stand from your chair, the legs scraping against the wood flooring as your push to your feet. the door creaks on its hinges when you pull it open. just as you'd thought, ellie stands on the porch. her head is lowered, auburn tufts covering her face like a veil. or perhaps a mask.

you open the door wider to allow her entry. the light pools out onto the porch and across the tops of her converse. she notices the shift and begins to enter, though she's acting strange. she's stumbling over her own feet, refusing to lift her head. your brows furrow as you lock the door behind you.

when you turn around, ellie is sitting in your chair as she begins to eat from your plate of pasta. you frown, "i can get you a serving, if you want. i made enough for two. i always do."

she lifts her head and you realize why she's acting so weird. between her lidded eyes and bloodshot scleras, it's clear that she's not sober. she raised a brow at your staring, "what?" her tone is sharp, unlike herself.

"nothing, baby. it's fine." you sigh, turning to grab her a plate from the cabinets above your head. you pull one from the shelf and begin to add pasta onto it. however, by the time you reach the table, ellie's passed out atop it. her face is smushed into the tabletop, hair getting all in your food.

you huff out a breath, shifting to hold her plate in one hand before lightly shaking her shoulders with your other. she doesn't rouse so you shake her even harder. eventually, she snaps awake. perhaps too quickly, because she thrashes out. her arms flail, knuckles colliding with your cheekbone.

the plate in your hand falls to the floor, glass shattering against wood. ellie's eyes widen, her gaze trained on your face as yours remains trained on the broken dish below your feet.

she begins to stand, "i didn't mean—"

"it's okay, els." you assure her with a small smile, urging her to sit back down. the last thing you want is glass in her foot.

"no, i—" she shakes her head, clearly fighting her own mind as she combats for ascendancy over her inebriation. "i hit you.. i never meant to— to ever—"

"ellie." you interrupt, voice hard. "it's fine."

her lips thin as she gives you a curt nod in response. you walk into the kitchen to retrieve the broom. when you return, ellie is out of her chair and walking toward the door. you frown at her and she gives you a pitying look before exiting the house without another word.

AUGUST.

"drugs, ellie?" you shout, hands flying up in emphasis. "you're taking fucking pills now!?"

"don't snoop through my shit!" she shouts back.

your voices bounce off the walls of your home. once such a cozy, quiet place of solace. now only visited in short increments when in need of food or a bed. the light of the candle you'd lit this morning glows a soft orange, almost taunting you with its clashing softness.

ellie hasn't been home all month. she finally came back last night, kissing you gently as she apologized for acting so strange. she confided in you, explaining how she's been having a hard time but intends to make up for it. her hands were benign as she ran them over your bare skin last night. oh so kind, she was. her words were like music, playing the exact lyrics that you'd coveted for months.

only to wake up this morning and find out the truth. you'd come into the kitchen to prepare her breakfast, a soft smile on your lips as you lit the candle. you'd noticed that she left her coat on the counter and reached to grab it for her. you hadn't meant to snoop, just to clean up behind her. as you've been doing since march.

but then you heard an odd sound from within the pocket. you reached into it, thinking she'd left her keys. and you knew ellie long enough to know that she'd freak out, thinking she'd lost them if you didn't put them on the table for her.

but they weren't her keys. they were pills.

"i didn't snoop, you asshole!" you exclaim. "i was trying to help you!"

"i don't need you controlling my fucking life all the time!" she shouts, features contorted into an expression of rage that you'd never seen her wear. it was disquieting.

"controlling?" you shake your head in disbelief. "i'm trying to keep you from doing shit you'll regret! i'm sorry for caring!"

"oh, don't fucking turn this on me." ellie scoffs.

you watch her with furrowed brows. is she serious? turn this on her? you're genuinely unsure on what you did wrong. you let her back into the home, slept with her, made her favorite breakfast in bed. then found out that she fucking lied. she was keeping shit from you.

your tone is much softer when you ask, "..were you even sober last night?"

her jaw clenches, but she doesn't respond. tears well in your eyes at the thought.

you'd never been more excited than you were last night. to finally have her back. your ellie. to have her coming back to you, for you. you'd fallen asleep last night studying her features. your fingertip traced the slope of her nose down to the cupids bow of her lip.

your chest aches as you say these next words. "get out of my house."

"your house?" she asks.

you feel like your drowning. or perhaps you're choking. or falling. but whatever it is, you're sure it's irrevocable. your throat is so tight you can hardly breathe. "i want all your shit packed and out of here by the end of the month."

ellie's eyes widen. "you're not serious."

"i've never been more serious in my fucking life." you say. "you can't storm in here whenever you want, use me like some whore, then leave when you feel like it. i'm tired of your bullshit ellie, that was my final straw."

her eyes are glassy as she grabs her coat — which is still full of pills — and leaves.

the moment the door slams shut behind her, you fall to the floor. your knees give out beneath your weight, the tile flooring cold against the palms of your hands. so this is what it is to fall. to chase the sun and get burned. to melt your wax and plummet. all you can thing, as you hear ellie's muffled cries outside the door, is how much you empathize with icarus for being foolish enough to reach for apollo.

OCTOBER.

jesse is throwing a party for his twenty second birthday. it's not a huge party, but large enough that you're sure ellie will be there. it's only been two months since you broke things off with her.

nothing, since then, has felt real. the length of your hair, the shape of your bones, the height of your spine. nothing is right in the world. in you.

but this is for jesse, not for ellie. if she's here today, that's her problem. not yours. for once, it's ellie's turn to regret. you're sick of being the one crying at night when you can hear her unlock the door to retrieve her things when she thinks you're asleep. you're fucking tired of it. she's the one who ruined everything.

you knock one, two, three times before the door swings open. dina smiles at you kindly as she widens the door to allow you inside. you thank her, though you know she's not your friend. you two aren't on bad terms necessarily, she just doesn't seem like you all that much. which is fine.

you enter the home to see that most guests have already arrived and are already drinking. jesse is in the living room, a goofy party hat atop his head as he shouts at the television. behind him, people laugh from the couches. one of those people is ellie. her legs are spread, an empty beer bottle hanging from her loose fingers. she doesn't seem to notice you, engrossed in whatever is happening on the tv. dina's gaze lingers on you for a moment before she leaves.

you walk to the kitchen to place your belongings down, pulling out the gift that you'd bought for jesse. the kitchen is empty, everyone else having crowded into the living room. though, it doesn't stay empty for long.

"what're you doin' here." ellie's voice speaks from the doorway. you don't look in her direction, not daring to.

"jesse's my friend too, ellie." you remind her with a sigh, placing the gift on the counter alongside all the other gifts.

part of you yearns to run to her, to pull her into your arms out of pure instinct. but you're not able to do that anymore because she's not yours. you spent over five months trying to comfort her into sobriety, only for your efforts to be in vain. so, instead of acting on foolish impulse, you keep your feet planted in place as you refuse to face her.

"you can't even look at me?" she slurs, voice tinged with annoyance.

"you're not yourself, right now." you say, eyes remaining pinned to the countertop in front of you. "i don't want to see you like this."

in truth, you know the sight of her so intoxicated would only ruin you further. it'd make you yearn for her even more as your mind reminisces on all that's been lost. all those wasted months you could have spent with her. all those nights you took for granted. those smiles. those eyes. seeing her like this would tarnish the few good memories that prevail.

"right," she scoffs, "'cause you're such a fuckin' saint yourself."

"i might not be a saint, but at least i'm still me." you say. "i haven't changed into some pathetic shell of a person."

her jaw clenches, "i'm still me, too."

"no, ellie, you're not." you finally lift your head to face her. your brow is knitted, concern painting your features with something akin to sorrow. it shoots through ellie's chest like a dagger, the sight of your saddened expression. she swallows, burying whatever sense of guilt she feels deep under a facade of vexation. "you're not the woman i fell in love with, you—"

"yes i am!" she shouts, slamming the empty bottle onto the countertop. a long clang rings through the space between you. "i'm the same fucking person!"

"ellie, dont—"

"y'know, back in april, you told me that grief comes in all different forms. you told me that what i'm feeling is normal! you—" her words are cut off by the sound of her voice cracking. your heart cracks along with it.

"that was before i knew how bad this would get." you say. "i thought it was just alcohol."

"it was!" she exclaims. "for a while, it was!"

"it doesn't matter what it was." you snap. "it's no longer just alcohol anymore. you're into pills and drugs and—"

"you can't fuckin' blame me for that!" she yells. you're sure everyone can hear her now. though, due to how drunk they are, you doubt they care enough to eavesdrop. "i was going— i am going through a lot!"

"i get that, ellie. i do." you argue. "but you can't ruin yourself like this! joel wouldn't want this from you and neither do i. you aren't thinking!"

her fists clench at her sides, voice lowering. "don't bring joel into this. he has nothing to do with it."

"he has everything to do with it!" you shout. sucking in a deep breath, you pinch the bridge of your nose in exhaustion. when you continue, your voice has dropped back down to a calmer tone, something you've learned to do during those on-and-off months with ellie. yelling at her only makes her grow more defensive and elongates her next expedition. "he's dead, ellie. he's gone and you're struggling with that. and that's okay. but turn to your friends for comfort. turn to people who love you, not drugs. they don't help you, els."

"turn to my friends? turn to people who love me?" she shakes her head, scoffing incredulously. "i tried that. i turned to you, i leaned on you. i tried and tried and tried and you left me."

"i didn't—"

"you left me when i was at my lowest. what else was i supposed to do?" she says, bottom lip quivering. you can't tell if it's from rage or sadness. a few months ago, you'd be able to read her like a book. not anymore. "you did this to me."

oh. that did it. tears well in your eyes embarrassingly fast. ellie's expression falters for a second, just long enough for you to respond. "fuck you, ellie. if you want to act like an asshole, go ahead. but if you think i'll just sit idly by while you kill yourself, you're painfully fucking wrong."

NOVEMBER.

someone's knocking at your door. it's well past midnight and you're in the middle of brushing your teeth. you curse under your breath, spitting before rushing to the front door. they continue to bang on the wood. "i'm fucking coming, calm down!"

you swing the door open, the chilly air sweeping inside. your eyes take a second to adjust to the light before you recognize ellie's silhouette. your eyes widen as she staggers inside. she leans against you instinctively, hands bracing your shoulders as she trips over her own feet. you hold her around the waist, guiding her toward your couch. the one she'd picked out three years ago.

"didn't know.." her words trail off and you shush her, rolling her onto her side in case she needs to vomit. she continues to mutter incoherently as you pace the room, not knowing what to do.

"fucking hell, els." you breathe, watching as her blinking slows and her mouth begins to drool. the black of her pupils take up more space than her irises, worryingly so.

"e'ryone else 's asleep," she murmurs.

you come forward, casting her hair out of her face. "shh, don't speak, baby, you're fine. no need to explain, 'kay?"

"mmm," she hums, eyes fluttering, "m'kay."

you nod, pushing to your feet as you continue to think of what the fuck you're supposed to do. what did she even take to get this bad? who the hell is selling it to her? everyone in jackson knows that she just lost joel earlier this year. god, if you could get your hands on them..

she begins coughing, though it sounds closer to gagging than anything. your heart rushes in your chest, "fuck fuck fuck."

without thinking, you grab your phone from your wall and dial tommy's number. it rings thrice before his voice comes through the line. he barely has time to ask who you are before you're explaining everything between sobs.

tommy, maria, and a few medics arrive within ten minutes. they haul ellie away on a stretcher, speaking too fast for you to pick up on anything. you stand in your living room as tommy follows them out. maria walks over to you as you're rubbing harshly at your eyes.

"you did the right thing, kid." she assures you, voice so soft that it only makes you cry harder. she frowns, humming sadly as she pulls you into a hug. "i know it's hard. grief always is."

you pull back, looking at her through teary eyes, "how'd you handle tommy? after joel passed."

"i hardly did." she admits. "we're not on the best terms, even now. that's just was loss does to people. it drives them apart until there's nothing left to drive apart."

"i don't..." you frown. "i don't think ellie and i have anything left."

APRIL.

you haven't spoken to ellie since november. after she awoke in a medical cot, she was more sober than she's been in months. her withdrawals were horrid, tommy said. he kept you in the loop with everything because ellie refused to see you, claiming to loathe you for having called tommy.

you can't lie, your heart definitely broke when you heard that. to imagine ellie from last year, kissing you awake with breakfast in bed, and comparing her to the ellie from now, claiming to never want to see your face again? the thought makes you feen genuinely ill.

snow sticks to the ground as you walk through the town of jackson. you're on your way to the grocery store when you see her. well, them. dina walks beside ellie as they saunter down the sidewalk, hands clasped together. she has that look on her face, the one she used to only ever give you. the one nobody else was lucky enough to see.

you huff breath, turning to look in the other direction as you pretend to not have even seen them together.

ellie seems to be getting better. and that's all that matters.

her eyes are bright, her nose is red from the cold. you can see her freckles from here, and you know the exact amount that coat her cheeks. you've counted them, memorized them as her fingertips traced your skin. as her viridescent gaze bore into your own with nothing but the same love she's currently looking at dina with.

you quicken your footsteps, forcing yourself to walk faster before you act on the biting pain in your stomach. the tangible agony that writhes within you.

FEBRUARY.

jj. that's his name.

no, you didn't stalk your ex girlfriend surrogate. you're not that crazy. maria actually came to you, explained that dina had a child and was raising him alongside ellie. she showed you a picture of them, a perfect family of three.

you instantly broke down into tears the moment you saw his gummy smile and fatty fists. dina held him tightly, having the same eyes as he. ellie had an arm draped over her, one hand on jj's shoulder as she beamed at the camera.

ellie is a mom. she has a baby. she has a baby boy who never would have gotten the chance to know her if she'd died that november night two years ago. and yet, she still refuses to speak to you. not a word has been uttered since that night. since she was dying on your couch from an overdose.

but it doesn't matter. who ellie is with and what ellie is doing doesn't matter at all. she's happy and that's all that matters.

you're perfectly content with watching her from afar with wax wings that are sure to burn under her brilliance. you'd tried it once and only ended in scorched flesh and the corpse of letting go.

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist @luvsturniolo.     @ilovewomenfr.     @zzombiegirl.     @elliessweetheart.     @shawangel.  @defnoteleonor.     @fatbootymuncher.     @autisticintr0vert. 

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 series taglist @soodle-noup. @kirammanss. @vahnilla. @prwttiestbunny.

[emeritusemeritus]

Hi love! Could I request a Fred Weasley x Sirius Black's daughter? Like low key goth, full of attitude, and overly confident reader, maybe they're in a meeting for the order and she's giving full attitude or something?? I just need more confident/bitchy reader bro T-T I'm tired of all the 'not like other girls' and shy readers like brother I speak my mind. anywho I love you and you're writing your amazing <3

Hello dear Anon! I hope it’s okay that I tweaked this just a little because I’ve been reading OOTP and it’s a crime that this scene wasn’t included because Fred vs Sirius?! I’d initially planned something much different but ended up 4k words deep here 😂 I love writing a fiery reader and would love to do more of this OC. Hope you enjoy! 🖤

Warnings: mentions of injury, Arthur’s attack, general unrest, drinking, brief mention of potential alcohol addiction, sadness and anger. Fred has big emotions. Mentions of Umbitch. Brief nod to the reader potentially being a seer? Secret relationship that gets revealed.

Word count: 4k words (I got sucked in)

The eye of the snake.

"But professor," you protested weakly, actually considering the implications of your actions for once.

"I hardly think now is the time for propriety Miss Black," Professor McGonagall says as she ushers you through the common room and up the stairs towards the boys dormitories, whilst she heads towards the girls to retrieve Ginny. An odd night all around, you thought.

With shaking hands you held your illuminated wand out in front of you as a beacon, though you hardly needed a guide having made this walk so many times before, though never this quickly and without watching out for every creaking floorboard. You reached out for the door handle and slid it open, trying to stay quiet as to not disturb Lee. George was snoring as usual, surprisingly in rhythm with Lee's slight nose whistle which briefly made you ponder how the hell Fred was able to sleep through this crescendo of noise.

You creep towards Fred's bed first, knowing that time was of the essence and gave him a quick shake on his shoulder whilst whispering his name. You felt almost guilty for waking him, seeing him so peaceful in his sleep, knowing that Dumbledore's immediately summoning of yourself and the Weasley children was an ominous and foreboding sign. He looked so handsome, so relaxed and for the briefest of moments you forgot your assignment, wanting nothing more than to just climb in and cuddle up to him, feeling his warmth and softness.

You'd felt it all night, sleep evading you and your eventual dreams disturbed, the sense of something bad occurring pulling at the edge of your mind like a summoning charm. You'd felt the unease, the disquiet all night but couldn't sense anything beyond that, with no details making theirselves known, no visions of what lay ahead beyond the general sense of impending doom.

"Freddie!" You say a little louder, giving him a harder shake, watching as he stirs and eventually opens his eyes, immediately squinting at the light your wand is emitting. "Get up, it's important." You hoped that your blunt tone was enough to drag him out of his slumber and shuffled off towards George's bed where to attempted to wake him too.

"George," you say, giving him a harsh nudge on his shoulder, knowing that he'd be sleeping much deeper than Fred ever did. "George wake up!"

He groans, throwing his arm over his face but you don't pay him any mind, reaching for his dressing gown on the chair beside him and throwing it directly at his face.

"What's happening?" Fred groans, voice deep and thick with sleep.

"Dumbledore's called for us, McGonagall's getting Ginny, somethings happened."

He was out of bed in a flash, recognising your tone of voice enough to know that you were far from joking. George took a bit more corralling but he was quickly roused as you walked out of their dorm, followed closely by both twins who were every inch as disheveled physically as you felt internally. You met Ginny and Professor McGonagall at the top of the stairs and walked quickly and silently behind her, allowing Ginny to walk ahead with her brothers.

"There's been an... incident," McGonagall says, her words carefully considered to give little away of the situation, another ominous sign. "Your father has been injured, though we don't know how serious it is at this time. Professor Dumbledore is doing all he can with Potter's guidance."

"Harry? What's he got to do with this?" Ginny asks quickly, naturally hanging on every word that the professor said. She looked frightened and you could hardly blame her, considering the news. The twins remained uncharacteristically quiet as you walked quickly through the corridors until you were outside the headmasters office.

"Fizzing whizbee."

McGonagall turns to Ginny, casting a glance to the rest of you out of curtesy as the spiralling staircase presents itself at the correct password.

"It appears Mr Potter saw the attack take place."

"We've located your father and he's been taken to St Mungo's Hospital for maladies and Injuries. I'll be sending you all to Sirius' house, it's much more convenient than the Burrow. You'll be meeting your mother there," Dumbledore explains. At the mention of your father, your eyes shoot up to Dumbledore and it suddenly becomes clear why you have been sent for in addition to the Weasley family. Your dad, the safe house, the order of the Phoenix. Arthur must have been injured during Order business.

"How are we going?" Fred asks, his voice sounding as sullen as his face. He sounds unnerved, shaken, and you fight the natural instinct to reach for his hand. "Floo powder?"

"No." Dumbledore says with a slightly shake of his head, "the Floo Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey,"

He indicates to an old kettle lying innocently on his desk, the inanimate object having missed your notice upon entering. "We are waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back... I want to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you on your way."

His gaze slips to you upon mention of your great-great-great grandfather but you avert your eyes, hardly knowing your place in that moment. Usually you had no trouble expressing your opinion, regardless of the situation, but right now you felt the best thing was to stay quiet and offer a supportive presence.

You thought of your own father, the both of you having spent so long forced apart and of his current predicament, essentially forced under house arrest by the Order. It was safer that way, but your heart still ached for how lonely he would be. You felt conflicted and impossibly guilty at the slight excitement you felt at seeing your dad again in respect of what your boyfriend and the others would be feeling at their own father's fate. Mr Weasley had been a surrogate dad to you whilst your own father was locked away and had been a constant presence in your life, making you feel even guiltier for the hopeful feeling you had about your own dad.

Your eyes suddenly whip around to the flash of a flame from the centre of the office, watching as a golden feather emerges from the combustion, your eyes trailing it downwards as it floats right to the floor.

'"Fawkes's warning," Dumbledore half-explains, eyes flickering between the golden feather and then towards McGonagall.

"Professor Umbridge must know you're out of your beds. Minerva, go and head her off - tell her any story."

Professor McGonagall was gone within seconds, her messy braid whipping behind her as she exits the office in a flash.

"He says he'll be delighted," an all too familiar voice suddenly says in a grumbling, bored voice. Your eyes trail up to the portrait of your ancestor, the Slytherin banner proudly waving behind him, his face as sour as you remember.

"My great-great-grandson has always had an odd taste in house-guests," he adds with a particular distaste before his eyes meet yours for only a moment, recognising instantly who you are. "As does his daughter."

"What a lovely reunion," you snark, fighting back a roll of your eyes as the familiar anger simmers deep in your gut at his choice of words, not even bothering to conceal the archaic values of your ancestors that belong in the past with them.

"You have all used a Portkey before?" asks Dumbledore, waiting for confirmation from you all as you huddle around the old black teapot, each of you nervous for different reasons of what will be waiting for you on the other side.

"Good. On the count of three then... one... two..."

"Back again, the blood-traitor brats. Is it true their father's dying?" You barely had time to register the creaky voice, never mind distinguish his words as you recovered from the nausea of travelling by portkey. Your stomach still felt tingly, the pulling sensation behind your navel and the wind ringing past your ears as you trapsed through space and time was never a comfortable feeling, having ended up in your dad's gloomy kitchen only moments later.

"Mistress Black returns with her blood traitor friends." You're about to curse into the horrible little elf when you hear a second voice shout loudly from the sidelines, rendering you speechless.

'OUT!'

Fred from beside you helps you up, knowing even in his time of need that Portkey travel did not agree with you and gives you a little nudge towards where your dad leans on the doorframe awaiting your arrival.

"Dad!" You scrambled, running off to hug your father who welcomed you with open arms, chuckling heartily as you barged into him with a slam. You felt awful doing this in front of the Weasley children but you'd allow this for yourself now and apologise later. You looked over your dads shoulder through the wild brown ringlets of his hair and saw that a single place had been set at the table, with a single lit candle and the remains of a solitary supper that made your heart clench. He smelt like stale drink, your stomach roiling nervously at the thought. Was that how he was occupying himself?

You suddenly pulled away, knowing that it wasn't the right time for a long, drawn out reunion and stepped back in line, in between Fred and George.

"What's going on?" He asks, turning to look upon the Weasley siblings. "Phineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured —"

"Ask Harry," says Fred, particularly bluntly, no doubt frustrated that he wasn't getting a solid answer. You watch as your dad turns to Harry, pulling him into a warm embrace, trying to get him to open up.

"Yeah, I want to hear this for myself," adds George.

"It was, I had a - a kind of - vision," he stutters, beginning to explain the vision in great detail. Throughout the retelling, you have to stop yourself for reaching out for Fred's hand multiple times, knowing that you can't in front of everyone.

"Is Mum here?" Fred asks, turning to your dad once Harry had explained everything. You watch as George's face fills with dread, apparently having not realised up to now that she wasn't present amongst you.

"She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet," explains your dad. "The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledores letting Molly know now."

"We've got to go to St Mungo's," says Ginny with a sense of urgency. You watch as she pauses, looking around all of you who are still dressed in your nightwear having been ripped from your beds not an hour before. 'Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything? Y/n?"

"Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St Mungo's!" Your dad says suddenly, eyes ablaze as if he's personally affronted by the suggestion. Your mouth opens immediately to protest but Fred manages to find the words first, his face stern.

"Course we can go to St Mungo's if we want, he's our dad!'" You can see how physically tense he's gotten, not taking very well to being told no by someone he didn't see as an authoritative figure, even if it was his girlfriend's dad.

"And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?"

"What does that matter?" Adds George hotly, clearly thinking along the same lines as Fred, outraged at your dad's block.

"It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!" Your dad replies angrily. "Have you any idea what the Ministry would make of that information?"

You reach out suddenly for Fred's hand, trying to ground him. The physical contact seems to pull him back to earth, preventing him from saying something he'd inevitably regret... or maybe not knowing Fred.

Ginny instead tries to offer alternatives in a much more grounded way, "Somebody else could have told us... we could have heard it somewhere other than Harry."

"Like who?" Your dad says impatiently with a sigh. "Listen, your dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order's-"

"We don't care about the dumb Order!'" Fred shouts, breaking away from your grip, as if it was holding him back. You're suddenly acutely aware that you are stuck in this awkward position, trapped between your dad and your secret boyfriend, hardly able to say anything to diffuse the situation. Your mouth physically hurts as you bite the inside of your cheek, finding it near impossible to keep out of it.

"It's our dad dying we're talking about!" George yells, mere seconds later.

"Your father knew what he was getting into and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order!" Your dad replies with as much force as he was receiving, "This is how it is - this is why you're not in the Order - you don't understand - there are things worth dying for!'

You're a second away from physically pulling Fred away, knowing that whatever the next words would be that came out of his mouth, they'd be harsh and venom-filled.

"Easy for you to say, stuck here!' bellows Fred. "I don't see you risking your neck!"

You watch in horror as your dad pales, the look in his eyes darkening and you know in that moment that he'd quite like to hit Fred, something you would not be allowing. You'd been quiet too long, allowed them both to get out their frustrations but you'd had enough of that. You wouldn't choose sides, wouldn't force either of them to comply or get along but for your sake you hoped they could at least be cordial. You'd take the brunt of their frustrations if you had to, just to diffuse the situation.

"Right that's enough," you say, finding the words escaping you before you could really think about what you're saying. "Dad get the kettle on," you say with a nod of your head, a small and very false smile playing on your lips. You turn to the twins, names Fred who looks positively mutinous, trying a much softer approach on them. You know if you reach for Fred right now he'll reject you and you couldn't deal with that so you fold your arms over your chest, looking up towards the towering twins.

"We need to wait for your mum, we'll all set up in the lounge to wait or Gin you can have my bedroom if you want," you offer, casting a glance at the youngest Weasley who looks sullen, shaking her head slightly, as you expected. "Just wait to hear from your mum and then we'll work out our next move okay?"

Fred doesn't relent as easy as George who nods after a few moments in understanding. Instead, Fred is still shooting daggers at your dad over your shoulder and you sigh, knowing he's stubborn as a mule. A few tense moments pass and you watch as his eyes suddenly flicker to yours and soften considerably before he nods in agreement.

"No milk," your dad says suddenly from behind, a look on his face somewhere between disgust and shame.

"Right, butterbeer it is then," you say, trying to redeem the situation, "it's in my bedroom." You shoot a look to your dad, knowing you can't do magic here and you were hardly ready to leave Fred and your dad alone again.

"Accio Butterbeer!" Your dad says, taking the lead. Immediately the bottles of butterbeer float across the room and your dad placed them into the table as you reach and distribute the drinks.

You all take your seats in the lounge surrounding the fire that had dwindled slightly since your arrival but with a single flick of his wand, your dad refreshes it.

Ginny takes the old armchair closest to the fire and curls herself up within it.

Harry and Ron take the two seater, the most uncomfortable seat you'd ever had the displeasure of experiencing and you watch with a barely concealed grin as Ron's face immediately conveys his regret as he takes a seat upon the torture device. You reach for a cushion and throw it towards him; hitting him square in the face but for once he doesn't care but instead smiles thankfully for the cushion, not that it would do much. George throws himself down into the sofa closest to Ginny's chair and Fred follows not far behind. You stay standing, feeling suddenly uncomfortable at intruding and begin to back away from the room until the fire suddenly crackles dangerously. There's a burst of light and you frown, hearing the round of gasps as a scroll of parchment flies out, accompanied by a familiar feather.

"Fawkes!" Your dad says, quickly marching into the room at the sudden disturbance, snatching up the parchment and pulling it close to his face. "That's not Dumbledore's writing - it must be a message from your mother - here."

He thrusts the letter into George's hand, who had jumped up anxiously at the sudden intrusion. George then ripped it open and read aloud for everyone to hear.

"Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum."

There's a dead silence that follows Molly's communication, each of you thinking the same thing.

"Still alive..." George says slowly. "But that makes it sound..."

Fred pulls the parchment out of George's hands and read it for himself, then looks up at Harry for a moment, before he looks back to the parchment.

"You should all go to bed and deal with it properly in the morning," your dad suggests and before you can deal with the inevitable onslaught from the Weasley kids, you pull your dad away back into the kitchen, feeling the hot stare of Fred burning a hole in your back.

"They're worried about their dad," you say, keeping your voice down so that they wouldn't hear you. "We'll just hole up in the lounge for the night."

"Y/n," your dad sighs but for some reason his attempt to disagree with you seems to anger you instantly.

"What would you do? Just go to bed and pretend nothings wrong?"

"Well I didn't care very much for my father," your dad begins to snark, forcing you to roll your eyes.

"Right, so maybe just pretend you can imagine what they're going through and just accept that they're hurting and need each other right now."

Your dad's eyes widen a little at your outburst but you don't back down, "you don't have to host us, go to bed if that's what you're concerned about, or back to your drink."

"Y/n Black!" Your father shouts but you don't flinch, knowing that you'd simply touched a nerve.

"I care about every single one of them in there, is it not just enough that I want them not to hurt? I care about Arthur too! Can you simply not understand that some people might actually be horrified at the thought of their father dying?"

His eye twitches at your words and you can tell he's considering the possible hidden meanings behind your words.

"Perhaps you care a little more for one of them," he snarks, unable to hold himself back. You see red immediately, only to be fuelled by your dad's following words. "Seems that you've absorbed his anger."

"He's not angry he's terrified!" You can't help it, the volume of your voice raising to match his. "Anyone would be in their situation! I'm sorry we're such a burden to you but the second we hear from Molly we'll be at St Mungo's out of your way."

"I didn't mean."

"No you never do," you say, averting your eyes and turning your body to walk back to the lounge.

"Y/n," your dad says, his tone suddenly back to normal if not sounding a little bit regretful. You sigh, tired and on edge, wanting nothing more than to just sit with your boyfriend and friends.

"You're a good friend to them," he says, trying to find words for the situation. Your nod slowly, the anger fading now as exhaustion washes over you.

"They're all I've had for a long time," you say, trying to avoid the sensitive topic of his imprisonment. "You're right about caring for them, and Fred above most. You're just seeing him on a bad night," you pause. "You know him and George stole the Marauders map from Filch's office in our first year?”

You watch as your dad's eyes light up in surprise, apparently never having been told this particular story.

"If you gave him a chance, on any normal day, I'm certain you'd love him."

"Do you?" Your dad asks gently, big brown eyes imploring your own. You frown, casting a look to the closed door that stood between you and the lounge, as if you'd see Fred through it.

You nod, getting more assured with every gentle movement of your head.

"I should get back," you say quietly, immediately feeling regret at the raised voices, not having expected your reunion to go like this.

When you step into the lounge, it's obvious that they had heard everything, though they all attempt to divert their eyes and look away to avoid making it too obvious but fail miserably. Fred's hand beckons you over and he pulls you into his lap, your head immediately resting on his shoulder, ignoring the shocked looks from Ron at the outward affection.

"Don't say anything," you whisper, looking at the flames of the fire instead of his face.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Fred says gently, making you look towards his face, seeing his tired eyes and the tiny hint of a smile upon his face.

"You're comfy," you say, pressing your head into the curve of his shoulder and you can feel the movement of his little chuckle. Arthur stays at the forefront of your mind and you're certain that there's not a moment he's forgotten amongst his children as you look at them throughout the night.

At some point Fred falls asleep, his breathing evening out as his head lolls onto your shoulder with the new position. His hand is entwined with yours, acting like an anchor so he wouldn't float away with his spiralling thoughts, your legs resting over his much longer ones. George is asleep the other side of Fred, emitting quiet snores and jerking every now and then. Ginny doesn't sleep, you can see the reflection of the flames in her eyes as she stares blankly into nothing and you're unable to tell if Ron is asleep due to his head being in his hands, slumped over. You settle down, snuggling into Fred as the tiredness overtakes you and you hope that when you wake there will be better news.

You don't see or hear your dad step into the room an hour later, pausing as he looks upon his daughter cuddling up to who he assumes is her boyfriend. Instead of being angry or protective as he expected to feel, he feels a sense of calm as seeing her look peaceful in her sleep. He may not have had the best interaction with the Weasley boy but he knows Arthur and Molly, they seemed incapable of raising a bad one

[wannab-urs]

Pedro Pascal Character Fic Recs | Vol 42

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy Folks,

guess who's back! I don't know if I'm back to doing these consistently, but I have a hell of a list for y'all. Tags and summaries provided by the author, commentary provided by yours truly.

Mindfuck - Dave one shot by @whatsnewalycat

He said he could rattle the bees from your buzzing honeycomb brain. All you had to do was trust him with this power. So you did. And you do. Your valiant beekeeper meets you at this hotel every other Tuesday night, except on holidays.

Hypnotism, hypnosis-kink, Imperfect Praxis of Hypnosis, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Praise Kink, Smut, unprotected piv, D/s dynamic, Dom Dave, Mindfuck

One of the weirdest things I've ever read, but also one of the best. I was super into this. Mindfucking is WILD.... I'd read more of this universe in a heartbeat

Bittersweet Love - Dieter one shot by @ozarkthedog

Dieter is in recovery from drug addiction, the disease that cost him you. This is his first premiere after getting clean and his first one without you.

angst but with a happy ending! mentions of drug use and alcohol but nothing graphic.

This is such a sweet fic? That might be a weird way to describe it. I just love Dieter getting his shit together and all the good coming his way because of it.

Starlet - Dieter one shot by @whocaresstillthelouvre

Your husband has a big movie premiere, sure he looks great, but his co-star looks even better.

PWP, threesome, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), lesbian fun, unprotected p in v sex, cum eating, addiction talk, sober Dieter, Kit Kats, I wrote this for the bi girls.

This fic is a dream, seriously. I want a hot movie star husband to bring pretty movie star women into my bed please and thank you.

Pas de Deux - Din series by @burntheedges

When Din Djarin – principal dancer at Concordia Ballet Company and generational talent in the classical style – suddenly left CBC and joined the Nevarro Ballet Theater mid-season, it shocked the ballet world. You never would have guessed that he would change your life, too.

modern AU, ballet AU, fluff, angst, flirting, dancing, lots of ballet terms (I’ll define things/link videos/etc. -- see below), misunderstandings, character study, romance, pet names (sweetheart, beautiful), lots of tension, later: smut, kissing, grinding, fingering, p-in-v sex, creampie, each chapter will have its own tags, Din lifts reader (see note below about reader)

This is one of the few modern Din AUs I've read, as I tend not to like them, but I can't recommend this enough. I was drawn in by the summary and hooked by the first chapter!

Never Let Me Go - Ezra one shot by @yopossum

Loving, reverent domestic smut with sweet, submissive Ezra.

SMUT; no plot that’s it just porn but with FEELINGS; sub!Ezra; established relationship; super duper in love; domestic fluff; comfort; gratuitous pet names; praise kink; body worship; body hair; grinding; breast and nipple play; teasing/edging if you squint; light bondage; riding; PIV; no condom (there’s come y’all); religious language and imagery as literary device; Ezra the human thesaurus; prose gettin purple; making grown men whine and cry; reader is not gendered, has breasts and a vulva/vagina, is described as having puffed nipples and dimpled thighs, can straddle Ezra, but no coloring, size, appearance, age, or ability is otherwise noted; Ezra is an amputee and healed and we love it (no gore or trauma or background re: his arm); but I did write this because I was watching Prospect without actually watching and was inspired by *~*those sounds*~* out of context tho; Beatrice is not reader’s name, just a nerdy Dante reference; I stole this title from Florence Welch; old person on tumblr; is this spacing wack?; not a beta in sight; 18+ only no minors

SUBMISSIVE EZRA!!! I loved this. Such a gorgeous fic.

Stick Buddies - Frankie series by @auteurdelabre

You and Frankie find yourselves in a complicated situation when invited to Benny's wedding for a week in Mexico. Despite your strained friendship, you both pretend to be a couple to save Frankie embarrassment when seeing his recently engaged ex wife. However as you navigate through this charade, old feelings and unresolved issues resurface.

friends to enemies, angst, fake relationship, bickering, there's only one bed, destination weddings, enemies to lovers, jealousy, idiots in love, revealed secrets, mutual pining, smut, HEA, so many fucking tropes.

friends to enemies to lovers??? Sign me the fuck up.

Where You Left Me - Frankie one shot by @chaotic-mystery

You meet Frankie for a date and reminisce about your relationship.

MAJOR character death. No movie AU but fuck Tom. This is overall angst heavy and please take care of yourself. Grief & loss, sadness, memories, I think that’s it? It’s just overall a bittersweet and tragically lovesick story. There’s no physical descriptions of reader other than wearing a black dress at one point and having hair that tickles Frankie’s nose. no y/n used

This shit made me cry in the best way. Please read this.

One of Your Girls - Frankie one shot by @pedropeach

unpacking some of frankie's old things leads to a revelation about his past. (OR to put it simply: frankie morales x triple frontier boys circle jerk)

Circle Jerk, Sub!Frankie, Bukkake, Facials, Cumplay, Cum Swallowing, frankie is literally a cum dumpster (and loves it), Praise Kink, Pet Names, Dirty Talk, oral (m receiving), Deepthroating, Cock Worship, Use of restraints, Sexy Photographs, Sharing, brief mentions of anal sex (m/m), for story purposes you are frankie's current gf, frankie x all the guys individually, this includes tom but he's not part of the circle jerk, sry tom

Really was not expecting this to be as tender and soft and sweet as it is considering it's one of the more filthy things I've ever read. Absolutely love it.

I'll Carry You - Javi P series by @almostfoxglove

You reunite with your childhood best friend when he arrives home from Colombia. Javier's sudden return to your life exhumes buried heartbreak, but he longs to set things right.

Eventual smut. Reference to canon-typical violence, injury, and the death of a parent. Plenty of alcohol consumption, yearning, and angst. YEARNING!!!

The yearning is exquisite. The fic is exquisite. I'm in love with this fic

Remorse for Remedy - Joel series by @pedgito

Alone, the Miller's brothers seem like your only hope. The outbreak is still fresh, weeks after the fall and all that matters is survival and the unlikely comfort that comes along with a man who wants nothing to do with you.

early outbreak, canon typical violence, morally grey!joel, smut (warnings given with each chapters), exploration of kinks, enemies to lovers, age gap (early 20s/mid 30s), unhealthy coping mechanisms, detailed warning with each chapter

I haven't ever read a series about Joel immediately post outbreak, which is wild. It's always raider!joel or qz!joel or jackson!joel. I love this new perspective and I'm so excited to read more.

Biology - Joel one shot by @endlessthxxghts

Joel hurt his back at work, so you've been helping him around the house until he heals.

able-bodied, female sex anatomy, and inherently fem!reader. No description of reader, everything is neutral (ex. “your bottoms,” “the curve of you” — nothing is specific in the way “you” are described). Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel in 50s). EXPLICIT MATERIAL PRESENT. HEED THE WARNINGS. WEIRD boundaries are crossed…you're not blood-related to Joel, but you were raised like you were. You call him “uncle.” Pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, etc.). Pussy pronouns (she). Innocent touches until it isn't. Sexual tension galore. Slight dub-con. Icky Joel. Icky reader. Pussy grinding. Dirty talk. Slight degradation (“bitch” is used only once). Multiple orgasms. P in V unprotected. Reader is on top. Lots of teasing about the nature of yours and Joel’s relationship.

Well slap me silly and call me an uncle fucker because this fic was amazing. (they're not really related don't. look. at. ME.)

The Savage and the Sanctuary - Joel series by @justagalwhowrites

After the death of his daughter, Joel Miller fell apart. But when searching for answers at the bottom of a bottle and within his own rage doesn't fix it, he resigns himself to working for his brother in private security. It's a job that starts him down the path to stability and a semblance of a life, even if it's not one he particularly wants. At least it does until you show up. The biggest movie star in the world with your newly adopted niece in tow, you throw everything about Joel's life into flux. Is he capable of letting himself feel something again while protecting the only things left in the world that matter?

Protective Joel, Ellie & Joel Bonding, Joel is Bad at Feelings, POV Joel, Joel Needs a Hug, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn

So pumped for a new Kit fic. Super into bodyguard Joel. The angst right out the gate is so beautifully painful, I just know I'm gonna cry once a chapter at least. (i've only read one chapter, so I have some catching up to do!)

Professor's Pet - Joel one shot by @chaotic-mystery

Professor Miller wants you to teach the class tomorrow morning & you need help being less nervous. What if he’s the reason you’re nervous, though?

Age gap but not specified, power imbalance (professor x TA, reader stutters when nervous, academic weapon, teasing, fingering, one (1) pair of panties ripped to shreds, oral (f receiving), spitting, pussy slaps, praise kink, name calling (good girl, sweetheart, baby, smart girl), dirty talk, talking you through it, spanking, condescending a little bit, cum eating, face riding, nasty freaky kisses to share your cum, no use of y/n

I cannot begin to explain how hot him helping her practice is. And then the smut.... I need a shower

Call It What It Is - Joel one shot by @joelsgreys

A disagreement over patrol duty leads to declarations that have been long overdue.

JACKSON ERA JOEL. established relationship. HEFTY AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and joel is 56). ellie and joel are fine bc i said so and they deserve nothing less. reader handles a rifle, joel’s a little too overprotective and almost seems controlling, but i promise he is not. well, maybe just a smidge. arguing, admission of feelings, joel miller says i love you (yes this is ooc, no i do not care bc i need this old man to tell me he loves me). angst, fluff. quite a bit of side character interaction before we get to joel and reader in the second half. the only physical description of reader is that she is shorter than joel.

We love overprotective Joel in this house

The Guard Dog - Pero Tovar one shot by @avastrasposts

Sent to your uncle's bleak castle in the north of England, you expect only a dreary existence until you meet his groundskeeper, a scarred, frightening Spaniard. But love in the Victorian era is not easy and life doesn't follow straight paths.

this is mainly all fluff with a bit of angst. Some of that casual racism and predjudice of the period rears its ugly head though. I've tried to keep the reader as blank as possible, but it's Victorian England and she's a lady so I have to presume she doesn't speak Spanish and has fair skin. No use of y/n.

This was so beautiful. I love the setting, I love the characterization, I love the story

Bloody Kisses - Tim Rockford/Dio series by @perotovar

shane has been in denial about himself for a while. newly single and with the help of one of his favorite singers, he opens his eyes to a new venture he could possibly take: the cop he sees on a semi-regular basis, detective tim rockford.

takes place in the early 00s, age gap (shane is 23, tim is 40), internalized homophobia, hurtful names (fairy boy, faggot, queer as a slur, etc), a gay porn magazine, lots of references to peter steele of type o negative (and his playgirl issue), male masturbation, acab, angst, protected p in a, fingering, excessive amounts of lube

I started reading this a while ago, but I never added it to the spreadsheet. I'm in love with how soft Tim is with Dio UgH

In the shadows of others, we grow - Tim Rockford/Dave York series by @sin-djarin

What happens when you put two different areas of law enforcement in the same room a few times a year to atone for their 'sins'? You find common ground and figure it out. Together.

M/M, Established D/s dynamics, each chapter contains individual warnings.

This pairing?? Obsessed. The feelings?!?!? Give me 14 more fics in this universe PLEASE

An End to Drought - Javi P one shot by @almostfoxglove

The future of your family's homestead hangs in the balance as Javier Peña comes home in the middle of a drought.

Javier Peña Smut, Soft Javier Peña, Sweet Javier Peña, Javier Peña Has a Big Dick, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Fluff, Neighbors,Javier might be a god? who knows!, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Penis In Vagina Sex, Oral Sex, Creampie, Sex, Vaginal Sex, unprotected piv, Freyr, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Post Season 3

I'm obsessed with the way the challenge was interpreted. Is Javi a god? We don't know... but he sure fucks like one.

Some shit I wrote:

Make it Hurt - Logan Howlett x f!mutant!reader - sparring + pain kink

Morning Ride - Logan Howlett x f!reader - soft morning sex

You're So Dark - Dave York x f!reader - prof!Dave x student!Reader

[frog-necromancer]

Betting on a Losing Dog

Masterlist

Read on Ao3

Chapter 6: Till death do us part

Logan/fem!reader

Summary: An improvised (very soft and sweet) wedding before everything goes to shit. Oh and some angst of course. (Begging you on my hands and knees to leave comments please please please I love you)

Chapter: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

Tags:

#drug abuse and addiction #swearing #angst #anger issues #main character death (it’s Logan sorry babes) #fluff and smut #kissing #alcohol abuse  #graphic description of violence and injuries #heavy angst #biting #thigh riding #oral (f receiving) #p in v sex #unprotected sex (wrap it up)  #attempt at humor #spending time as a family #intrusive thoughts #some gore #hurt no comfort (maybe a little comfort) #found family #marriage!?!! #self harm (skin picking) #throwing up #depression  #smoking #references to Christianity and religion #video game references #road trip

Till death do us part

The following day was a hazy blur. Neither F/N nor Logan spoke a lot, only a few words here and there and Laura stayed mostly quiet too. Sometimes she would throw out profanities in Spanish. Or at least F/N thought that they were. (If you speak spanish I’m sorry…)

Hours blurred together and F/N couldn't tell how much time had actually passed. It couldn't have been more than a day, she thought. It hadn't been night, right? Last thing she knew was that it would take two more days, but she didn't know how long ago that was.

Logan didn't take breaks, his gaze fixed on the road, but F/N could see his eyes fluttering from time to time. She was worried, but her mind was too hazy to do something about it. She felt terrible to numb herself at a time like this. At a time where Laura and Logan needed her. Logan hadn't changed, but neither had she. 

It must have been about a day when they passed an old chapel at the side of the dusty road. The building had seen better days, with a rotting facade and a couple of dirty broken windows. The once clean white paint was beginning to chip from the wood, making the building look almost moldy. 

“I…I want to light a candle…for Charles and the family and…and the others.”, F/N spoke, voice quiet and rough from not speaking for so long. She could see that Logan wanted to protest, to argue that they needed to keep driving, but she could also see how tired he actually was. “Since when do you believe in that stuff?”, He mumbled roughly, but there was no actual snark to his voice. F/N paused, did she believe in that stuff? Did she actually believe that lighting a candle would do anything but be a fire hazard? 

Probably not. 

But Kurt believed it with his whole heart. 

He would have done the same for her. And she had been putting this off for way too long. 

It didn't actually matter: “I don't know. But I want to do it” (Guys listen I'm an atheist that grew up Christian. I'm just leaning into the whole Christianity allegory. Please don't be offended!) Logan let out a little huff, tired eyes fixed to the dusty road ahead and for a moment F/N thought he wouldn't stop. That he’d keep ignoring her. 

But then he turned the wheel and a moment later the pick-up stopped just in front of the rundown chapel. 

“Make it quick.”, Logan muttered, resting his head on the wheel. F/N nodded, jumping out of the car. Her steps were a little unsteady but she would manage. Laura got out too. F/N sent her a gentle look, eyes just the tiniest bit teary: “let's pick some flowers for” She paused, who were these flowers for? For Charles? For Kurt? For the Munsons? “For everyone we've lost, alright?”, She finally spoke. Laura nodded softly. 

—

A few minutes later they both were holding a bouquet of wild flowers they had each picked. Laura's was a little smaller, but she looked very proud as she held it high to compare it to F/N's. They both were colorful and pretty in their own way. 

The mood was solemn, but at the sight of Laura sniffing the beautiful flowers, F/N couldn't help but smile. It was a sad and tired smile but a smile nonetheless.

“It's perfect Laura.”, she spoke with her hoarse voice: “Let's see if we can get into that chapel.” Laura nodded, rushing over to the double doors of the dusty building. F/N pushed against the wooden door, but there was a big metal lock blocking it. “It's locked.”, She sighed softly. 

Laura looked up at her, determination sparkling in her fierce brown eyes: “No! No!” She shook her head quickly, and before F/N could stop her or protest, Laura had extended her claws and cut down the lock, sparks flying as she cut through the metal. She grinned up at F/N who was not in the mood to lecture her about damaging other’s property. Instead she gently ruffled her head. “Thank you, Laura.”, She murmured, finally pushing the old doors open. 

The rusty hinges squeaked and dust danced in light that flooded through the dirty windows. It smelled of mold and dust, but the place had a strangely calming atmosphere to it. 

Their steps echoed in the building, this place had definitely seen better days, but at the same time the small forgotten chapel had an almost cozy flair to it. 

“Let's put the flowers down for a moment, maybe we can find some old candles” Laura nodded, putting the flowers down on an old wooden bench.

In a dusty carton box behind the altar, F/N found some old tealight candles. They were a little damaged but they would do. 

—

F/N blew on the stone altar to remove some of the dust, she couldn’t hold back a small cough as she tried to make the area look somewhat nice and less like straight from an end of the world movie. 

There was an old wooden crucifix. The small Cross had fallen over and the head of the Jesus figurine had broken off. F/N carefully laid it down, balancing the head on the uneven wood to make it look somewhat tactful. It was a sad display, but she did what she could. This was for her friends. Even if no one listened. 

Maybe this was for herself too.

She placed the candles in the middle of the altar, pausing when she realised that she didn't have a lighter. She was about to break the news to Laura when she saw an outstretched hand holding a cheaper plastic lighter beside her. “Thank you Logan.”, She muttered quietly, reaching for the object. Logan grunted in return. She hadn't even noticed that he had left the car, too deep in thought as she prepared the altar.

Her hands were shaking as she tried to light the candles. Her fingers felt weak and sweaty but she needed to do this alone. Logan was aware of her determination. He wouldn't offer his help. And she silently was thankful for that.

A lonely small flame danced upon the altar. Wordlessly, F/N placed her bouquet at the foot of the stone table. And for a moment they were silent. 

“I- I'm sorry…Kurt…Charles…”, Her voice  was barely above a whisper and on the verge of breaking: “Morph…Jean…Ororo…” She had to pause, take in a shaky breath before she could continue: “I- I had years to think about what to say- I had a speech prepared that I thought I'd one day hold at your graves… but now…I can't remember a word.” She paused, taking in another shuddering breath and Logan was a little worried that she'd fall over. “I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. I miss you all so so much”, she finally concluded, a lonely tear slipped down her cheek. Logan's eyes were burning, his heart heavy.

—

Silence filled the abandoned chapel, except for the occasional thud of Laura hitting the dilapidated wood benches with her foot claw, knocking out pieces of splintering wood. 

Logan had sat down next to her, head in his hands while F/N was still standing in front of the altar, head hung low.

“I-”, F/N finally broke the heavy silence, sighing softly. Laura was still holding onto her flowers, abusing the poor benches with her claw. “I always thought we would get married in a place like this” something between a sob and a laugh escaped her cracked lips at her little confession, it felt silly. 

She tasted blood.

Logan looked up at her in surprise, he hadn't expected her to bring up something like this. “Kurt wanted to officiate the wedding…bothered me about it for weeks…”, A teary smile had formed at the fond memory: “I told him it would never happen…” Laura had stopped kicking the bench.

“...but if it ever did, he would be the only one who I'd let perform the ceremony…”, She took in yet another a shaky breath, her throat felt raw and her eyes were burning.

“F/N”, she didn't turn around, she didn't think she could look at him right now without bursting into tears. Logan's voice was gravely yet incredibly gentle, filled with regret, pain and something like hope: “Would you…still like to get married?” He asked slowly, almost as if he was afraid of her answer. 

Finally F/N turned to him, her E/C eyes filled with surprise and anxiety: “Logan- this is not-” He stopped her: “How about right now?” Determination flashed through his hazel eyes. “Logan- I don't know- how much did you have to drink?” Logan shook his head, his voice firm yet filled with love: “Not enough to not know what I'm doing. Do you want to get married? Right now?” 

F/N blinked, her mind racing with possibilities: “Logan there's no one to perform the ceremony…” She began to weakly protest, but Logan was having none of her excuses: “It doesn't matter. You're here and I'm here and that's everyone that matters right now…no offence kid.” He sent Laura an apologetic look, the girl shrugged: “It's okay.”

F/N blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of the tears that sprang to her eyes yet again and make sense of her muddled mind: “I- Logan. I- I don't know what to say. I thought you didn't want to-” 

When she looked at Logan his eyes were filled with adoration and love and F/N knew right then and there that this was the right thing to do. Finally she nodded: “Yes, I want to.” her voice was barely above a whisper and Logan let out an audible sigh of relief.

“Let me do this the right way.”, He mumbled, awkward yet determined as he slowly got down on one knee. His bones hurt at the quick movement, although he would never admit it.

His hands dived into the pocket of his dirty jacket, fumbling with something before he finally pulled out a small black box made of plastic. “It's one I picked up at that one gasstation we held at …nothing fancy but-” he stopped himself, coughing awkwardly.

“F/N, would you like to marry me?”, He finally asked, his expression filled with careful hope, gazing into her glossy E/C eyes. They were so beautiful, so soft and filled with love. He could get lost in them. He wanted to so badly…

F/N nodded quickly, her hand shooting to her mouth, she couldn't believe this was actually happening, something between a sob and a gasp: “Fuck! Yes! Yes, Logan!” Was all she got out. Logan gently pulled her hand into his and slid the ring onto her finger. He had to suppress a frown at the picked skin around her nails. The F/C nailpolish had begun to chip off days ago. 

The ring was cheap and fit poorly, it was way too big for her, but at that moment F/N would have been happy with nothing. 

His hand in hers was everything she needed.

Logan pulled her into an embrace, pressing his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. He was smiling, tears at the corners of his eyes, this was a bittersweet moment. F/N didn't know whether to laugh or cry, she could hear Laura's quiet “Ew” but they both ignored it, too caught up in the ecstasy of the moment to care about anything.

“So…what now?” F/N asked as they loosened the hug. “We get married, of course”, Logan smiled faintly. It was obvious that F/N was still sceptical, but Logan gave her hands a reassuring squeeze: “Give us a moment, darling. How about you wait in the car.” F/N was about to protest but Logan sent her a stern look. He wanted to do this. For them. For her.

—

F/N was sitting in the car, knees pulled up to her chest, as she mindlessly played with the car window. Pushing it up and down and up again. 

They were in the middle of nowhere and she wondered who even built this church in the first place, there was nothing around it for miles and miles. Yet, she felt weirdly happy and excited, yet any moment she wasn't thinking about the present she was thinking about the past and future and the thought alone made a pit open up in her stomach. She felt like throwing up. 

—

An hour or two passed. She couldn't quite tell. Her phone had run out of battery a while ago. Too caught up in the moment to even care. 

A knock at the window pulled her from her thoughts. It was Laura, a crooked flower crown that looked dangerously close to falling apart adorned her dark head of hair. “You look pretty.”, F/N hummed, an automatic smile springing to her chapped lips. Laura nodded: “Logan made a crown for you too…” It was then that F/N noticed the second crown clutched in Laura's hands, made of the same flowers as hers. Maybe it wasn't exactly the prettiest, but it was the thought that counted. And that alone made F/N's heart swell with love. 

Laura grabbed F/N's hand, pulling her out of the car. “Down.”, She ordered, voice commanding and so much like Logan's. F/N kneeled down so that she could place the flowers on her head. 

Laura's hand found its way back into F/N's, pulling her along to the entrance of the chapel. She pushed the old doors open with ease, the wood creaked at the sudden movement. “Come in.” Laura said.

When F/N stepped inside, her eyes immediately fell on Logan in the front right before the altar. A single red flower in his unruly greying hair. That was definitely Laura's idea and he looked almost cute. 

His eyes were filled with adoration as F/N walked down the aisle, holding Laura's hand in hers. She was a little unsteady on her feet, taking slow steps. 

It was far from perfect but it was them. 

She came to a halt in front of him, a soft tender tugged at his lips, the gentle glow of the setting sun drew soft shadows on his rugged face. “F/N.”, he murmured, voice just as soft as his eyes. “Logan.”, Her face mirrored his and his heart skipped a beat. She looked exhausted and yet she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his way too long life. 

He cleared his throat, not quite sure where to start now that she was standing in front of him. He felt stupid all of a sudden, what the hell was he doing? Was was he thinking???

“I uhm wanted to look up wedding vows but my phone's dead so…”, He paused. 

“He had to pull it out of his ass.”, Laura helpfully added, and F/N couldn't help but chuckle softly, the first chuckle since Charles had died, Logan noted. 

“So…uhm yeah I- we had to improvise and I don't have another ring so uhm just imagine the ring exchange part…”, He cleared his throat again. Logan wasn't one to easily become nervous but right now he definitely was. He also hadn't had a drink since morning so that was probably another reason. 

Laura nodded, she had put on her little sunglasses for this for whatever reason. “You wanna marry her?”, She asked curtly. And F/N couldn't help but think about how Laura probably had never heard of weddings before, let alone knew what the ceremony looked like. 

Logan nodded softly, “Yes, I want to.” His voice was rough yet filled with a tenderness that was reserved for F/N alone. 

Laura nodded, sunglasses bobbing on her nose. She turned to F/N: “You want to marry the old mean man?” It was clear that Laura wasn't exactly saying what she and Logan probably had discussed earlier, that she was going off script, but Logan didn't say anything, simply giving her a look.

F/N hummed and nodded, E/C eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and anticipation. “I want to.” Laura nodded reverently, as if she was taking this very seriously: “Kiss. Kiss. Bésalo ahora” she exclaimed and Logan and F/N didn't need to be told twice as they fell into each other's arms. 

Their lips connected in a short yet loving kiss. Logan cupped her face, stroking his rough thumb over her cheek. “My wife”, He murmured, eyes filled with hope that F/N had thought was long gone and buried. “My husband”, Her voice mirrored her exhausted face but her eyes were filled with adoration. 

Maybe things would be alright. Of course both of them knew that they weren't technically married. That it was all just a farce. They had made a silent agreement to simply let it be. Who had even made the rules about what was marriage. 

Till death do us part, F/N thought.

Hand in hand they walked out of the church, with Laura throwing scratchy flowers at their heads. F/N felt absolutely exhausted and in the back of her mind played the memory of Charles’ death in a dreadful loop and yet in this very moment she couldn't help but smile. A genuine smile, laced with sorry and loss but a smile nonetheless.

[sage-green-matcha]

MIRRORBALL - ETHAN LANDRY 🪩

“I want you to know, I’m a mirrorball. I’ll show you every version of yourself tonight.” - Taylor Swift

Content includes: fluff, awkward singing at the end, kissing, low key awkward, light smut! Lots of Taylor Swift references ;)

Swiftie Reader x Ethan Landry!

<3

<3

<3

You stood uncomfortably at the side of the party, your heels were wet with alcohol, the shining silver being hit by the artificial rainbow lights. You took off your headband, playing with the disco balls that stuck out the top. The light reflected onto you and you wondered why no one talked to you, or came up to you to dance. It was always you that had to do it.

You were shining, glistening. And Ethan was one of the only people that noticed. The way you shined pulled his eyes in like a deer with headlights. He couldn't stop looking at you, and he wondered why others didn't look at you at all.

You decided to suck it up, looking for anyone to pull out to dance. Your eyes lit up when you spotted Ethan, you knew he was chads roommate and he was also in your Econ class, you also may or may not have a small, flourishing crush on him. "Hey, Ethan" The music got quieter as you approached him, your dress making a tassel sound as you walked. "Hi...what are you?" "Oh, I'm a mirrorball...well I'm a disco ball...It's a Taylor Swift thing" "Oh, I don't know that much about her but cool, you...you look pretty" he could get a closer look at your face. Your eyes were gently patted with silver and white eyeshadow, small gems around your eyes.

"Thanks...I mean thank you, you wanna dance?" You hid your face, blushing at his words "I'm not very good at it" You smiled, your eyes creasing up when you did. "Me either" you shrugged. "Uh, alright then" you took him by the hand, pulling him into the living room. A new song started up, a smile on your face as soon as you recognized the melody. "This is Taylor isn't it?" He'd seen you get excited about a song once or twice before, going home and looking up the songs. He actually enjoyed them, learning the lyrics just for you.

You spun him around, a laugh escaping your mouth since he spun the wrong way. "I think you can do the spinning" he blushed. You stood on your tiptoes, heels gliding you on the wooden floor. The light hit your dress and the shatters of silver light hit Ethan's skin. He was mesmerized by you. You were more than underrated. He didn't understand how no one took you into consideration. It upset him, almost making him mad.

You were such a good person, yet you were always dragged around or left behind. It's like the two of you were tied together with an Invisible string. You were like him, and you didn't make him feel bad about it, unlike Mindy or Sam. "You're shining" You'd never seen someone look at you like that before. It made you feel special. "Just for you" he paused at your words, pulling you closer.

You pressed your hand against his chest, looking up to meet eyes."It's rude to stare, Landry" You barely had time to think before you felt his lips pressed onto yours. He was fearless as he kissed you, making you melt deep into him, closing your eyes. The cherry alcohol seeped from your mouth into his, the taste addicting just like the soft feel of his lips.

His hands were placed on your hips as you pulled away, going back for air. You rested your arms on his shoulders, pulling him back in for another, deeper kiss. "What is happening here? Uhm are we just gonna ignore the fact that these two are practically fucking each other right now?" Mindy's eyes were wide, Chad with a smile on his face.

"Ethan! And that's how you get the girl!! My man!" Chad smiled excitedly. You pulled away, looking at them confused."Mindy shut up, you and Anika are always all up on each other" Chad patted Ethan on the back, standing awkwardly. "Uhm, I think we're gonna head out but I'll see you newlyweds later" Anika joined Mindy's side, waving at you with a small smile.

"Should uhm, we also go?" "We can go to my apartment" his eyes beamed and he nodded, following you out. The walk to your apartment was quiet, small chatter from time to time. You were both too nervous thinking about what might happen tonight to talk. "Do you live far from here?" You shook your head. "I rent a place on Cornelia Street, so only about a 10-minute walk" You were wonderstruck as you walked alongside him, blushing with each step.

You felt your heart race as you unlocked the door, closing it behind him. It smelled just like you, the sweet vanilla chai fragrance filling his nose. He noticed you taking your shoes off, leaving them by the door. "Oh uh, do you want me to take them off?" "If you want" you shrugged. You wrapped around your kitchen, going over to the fridge. "You want something to drink?" "I'm fine. Thank you" he smiled sweetly before looking back down, your cat sitting down on his feet.

"That's Toby, he can be a bit dumb sometimes but he's really friendly" You took a drink of your water, Toby scurrying over to you in a hurry. You picked up the kitten, throwing him over your shoulder as Ethan followed you into your bedroom.

He was in awe, the room was covered in string lights, vines, and curtails hanging from your ceilings. The posters on your wall were messy but also organized, and a record shelf in the corner of your room. Your room smelled different than the rest of your house, the incense on your shelf creating a deep, burned scent. "I don't think I've ever seen one of these" he spun the side of your record gently. He glanced to another corner of your room, noticing a small piano with books piled up on the side. Two guitars hung on the wall.

You came up behind him, wrapping your arm around his waist, taking his hand in the direction of the needle. "Pick it up...and place it on the disc" You guided his hand as he let it drop carefully, the first track from the vinyl playing. "You have all her albums?" "Yea..." you sat on the bed, taking him with you.

The soft sound of "My Tears ricochet" spilled into your room, your head on his shoulder as your kitten sat in his lap. "He likes you" you giggled, Ethan's hand gently petting him. You liked that about Ethan, he was shy and gentle, with you and your friends, with classmates and teachers. He could do no harm.

He was the kind of boy that would bring you flowers, handing one to your little sister to make her feel special too. He took everyone into thought, he wasn't like the regulars, and he didn't engage in revelry or try to go out of his way to impress girls. His grades and perfect hundreds didn't impress you, they kinda intimidated you. He reminded you so much of yourself if you hadn't been curved and bent under the pressure of your parents and teachers.

"You know...I listened to all of Taylor's albums because I wanted to bring it up with you. But I've been too shy to say anything...I've actually grown to really like her...her music is a bit too relatable" Your face was flooded in a maroon color. "You did that for me?" His smile began to look like a smirk, making you roll your eyes.

You looked over at the clock on your nightstand, it was already midnight. "I'm assuming I'm allowed to stay over?" You nodded. He knew you'd want him to stay, he had already made himself at home. You watched as Toby wobbled out of the room, a small adoring smile on both of your faces. "He's really cute, takes after his mom" "You're really cute too" You pressed your forehead against his, your thumb lightly swiping his bottom lip.

He placed his hand on your neck, thumb rubbing your jawline softly as he pulled you closer. It's like he was doing it on purpose, teasing you knowing you would break first. You didn't care, falling on top of him, the material of your dress falling on his skin. Your lips were desperate for more, your hand running up under his shirt. You were sure Ethan was just skinny and lanky, but with the way those collared shirts hugged his biceps, you should've known better.

He let out a small whimper, your thumb matching the same pattern he did on your jawline. His warm hands climbed up your back, lips continuing to kiss you, slowly pulling away to give attention to your neck. You were surprised about how good he was, it's like he already knew everything that would make you feel good. "Can I take it off?" He pulled away, waiting for your response. You nodded and he didn't hesitate, pulling down the zipper slowly.

You sat up, peeling the silver dress off of yourself. His eyes widened when he realized you didn't have a bra on underneath. You placed it gently to the side since it was kinda expensive. You bought it with this exact scenario in mind, you bought it so he could take it off of you. "I would've taken that off much sooner if I'd known you didn't have anything underneath" you chuckled, collapsing into him with another kiss. You became hungry for his lips, his skin. You wanted him so badly. Your stomach was overflowing with butterflies, you'd never had someone so close to you before.

His hand cupped one of your boobs, thumb lightly flicking your hard nipple. You frowned when he pulled away, instead his hands now grabbing your waist, pulling you onto his lap. You looked down at him, a smile on your lips. He looked so good from here. You ran your hands through his hair, sitting yourself on top of him as his hands roamed your body. He was addicted to the soft feel of your skin, the way it smelled, and the small marks that were sprinkled all over it. He wanted to make more on you, on your neck, your chest. He wanted everyone to know that you were his.

You felt him grow hard underneath you, a small gasp escaping your lips. He closed the space between you, kissing and licking at your neck. Sucking on your skin with just enough pressure to make it enjoyable but to also leave a mark. Boldness flooded him as he saw the first hickey he made. Now anyone that saw that would know you were his, only his.

☆ ~ ☆ ~ ☆ ~ ☆ ~ ☆ ~ ☆ ~ ☆ ~ ☆ ~ ☆ ~ ☆

You cuddled up to the blanket, body bare beside the panties that you managed to get on. Your eyes were glued to Ethan's face, his soft breaths mixing in with the sound of the end of your record. It put the two of you to sleep, waking up to the repeating sound of static.

You watched as he fluttered his eyes open, smiling once he caught you staring. "Creep" "Don't act like you don't like it" You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling yourself into his chest. Your warmth mixed, bare boobs on his chest as you played with his hair, Ethan's eyes never coming off of you.

You combed your hands through his brown curls, pulling out face-framing pieces that tickled his forehead. He smiled, closing his eyes. "Stop acting so sweet" you scoffed. "Acting? I'm so sweet Y/n, what do you mean?" He teased, pulling you into a kiss with his hands on your back.

He looked over you, eyes back on the corner of instruments he saw when he came in. "You can play all of those?" You turned to see what he was talking about, forgetting the own layout of your room. "Yea" you got out from under the covers, Ethan frowning at the loss of contact. He watched you as you walked to your closest, pulling an oversized tee over your body.

"You look better topless" you mocked his words, grabbing your guitar from off the wall. You tuned it up a little, Ethan watching you with curiosity. You plucked the first couple of strings and he was taken back. He didn't want to say he thought you'd suck...but he really thought you were gonna suck.  He watched as your fingers glided along the neck of the guitar, fingers on the strings as your other hand plucked them carefully.

"Yea I showed up at your party, will you have me? Will you love me?"

Your head rested on the guitar, smiling at Ethan as he watched you with awe. Your soft voice filled his ears, his heart melting with your voice.

"Will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends?"

You exaggerated your expression, Ethan biting back his lip with his his hand on his jaw, holding up his head as you sang. You were really perfect at everything. He couldn’t think of anything better that he could be doing, well besides you. But he already did that. His admiration for you only grew with each second, a hot feeling in his stomach. He felt like a little schoolboy with a crush, except he actually had a chance.

"If you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it? Will it patch your broken wings?" I'm only 17, I don't know anything but I know I miss you"

[raving-raven-writing]

Recom Headcanons

So, some of this is from my mind, but some of these headcanons I'm sure are based off others' headcanons I've seen. Also, some of these headcanons may actually be written in terms of some of my fics that I have written for Avatar. Particularly if you have read my story Lost and Found or any of my Recom Smut series. @hellpmeimobsessed You asked me to tag you, so here you go! Warning: Some of these headcanons may contain mention of past abuse/past child abuse/past sexual abuse, and may also contain content in terms of what the character enjoys in the bedroom Brown: -Was SAed when he was younger -Loves karaoke, even though he might be a bit tone deaf -Enjoys cuddling naked with his partner -Did modelling for a brief period of time before he decided to join the marines Fike: -....I got nothing for him, sorry. No hate to him, just don't have any at the moment.

Ja: -Was raised by his grandparents -Seeing the EMTs work on his grandma sparked his interest in wanting to become a medic -A sensitive soul, rather quiet and reserved -Enjoys movies, most genres except for horror; is a bit of a baby when it comes to the scary movies -Has minimal sexual experience compared to some of the others; but has always wanted to titty f**k his partner -Him, Prager, and Lopez are close

Lopez: -Is a masochist and will openly admit to it -Comes from a large family, a middle child of five. Very close with all of them. -Has problems with authority figures, always having to hold his tongue so he doesn't get himself into trouble -Very protective to those he loves or is loyal to -A rather horny drunk...this may or may not be how he and Ja got it on Mansk: -Has a light sensitivity, hence the sunglasses all the time. But also uses the sunglasses as a layer of protection of being perceived by others -Sits somewhere on the autism spectrum but was never diagnosed, comes across as just being "socially awkward" -Gives off the "strong and silent type" vibe -Was sexually abused by his uncle as a child well up until his late teen years -Definitely a mama's boy - The younger of two kids. Has an older sister named Nora -Turned to cooking as a way to cope with his trauma--found he had a gift for it and just kept at it. But also enjoys making others feel good by being able to give them a good meal

Prager: -Is a pothead -Grew up with alcoholic/drug addict parents, but was eventually fostered by an old teacher who took him under their wing -Likes most types of card games and board games -Stress cleans -Enjoys rollerblading and skateboarding -Easy going/go with the flow type of person--both in day to day things and in bed Quaritch: -Grew up on a farm -Raised by an abusive/alcoholic father and a mother that fell ill when he was in his teens -The oldest of three children---lost connection with his siblings when he left to join the military -His relationship with Paz started as her simply flirting with him based on a dare, but eventually turned into a fling as Miles was impressed by her boldness -Smokes when stressed but turns to alcohol as a bad coping mechanism if given the opportunity -Enjoys camping and hiking and being able to be out in nature so he can reflect upon life and to be able to get more in touch with his emotions -Likes to take charge in bed, but Paz is able to persuade him into being a sub in some situations Wainfleet -Has a bit of a crush on the Colonel. He thinks it isn't obvious, but some of the others see it -Is a switch in the bedroom. But prefers to be the sub when he is with his girlfriend, Mina. -Makes jokes constantly despite the fact that he struggles with his mental health--saw being the funny man as a way to make others like him -A middle child of three; has an older brother who is also in the military, but joined the Army branch, and a younger sister, who died when he was about thirteen -Grew up on a farm, although not many people know this -Grew up being rather sensitive and a "cry baby" as his brother dubbed him. Was a big mama's boy and her death damn near broke him -Smokes when stressed

Walker: -Likes to scrapbook in her spare time -Her and Z-Dog have flings with one another, but neither of them would label themselves as an "item" -Likes to sit down with a good book on a stormy day and curl up by the fire with some comforting snacks Warren: -Gives off the "strong and silent type" vibe -Has a crush on Mansk (initially unrequited?) -Is gay, but no one knows this (at first) -Is very much a wallflower, people forget he is there sometimes -In sexual relations, is very straightforward and a take charge type of guy--but makes sure that he is never rough with his partner

Z-Dog: -Grew up in a house full of men. Her mother left when she was young, so she just had her dad and her three brothers -Was very much a tomboy before realizing that she liked girls more then she liked men -Her father was a mechanic so she knows her way around a car -Enjoys physical sports like boxing and kickboxing -Chews gum as a way to manage her anxiety as well as to curb any emotional eating Zhang: -Is one of the three "strong and silent types" (with Warren and Mansk being the other two) -Rarely smiles -Enjoys shibari (Japanese rope bondage) and 69ing -Looks mean since he has a "resting bitch face" but can be quite gentle and doting with his partner -Joined the marines as a way to rebel against his parents since they wanted him to become a doctor or lawyer or engineer.

That's all I got for now. Might eventually develop some headcanons for Fike and might add on to what I have here. Hope you enjoyed reading!

[thatgirl4815]

One thing that strikes me about Ray/Sand vs Ray/Mew is that for the life of me I just can't picture the Ray who jumps on Sand and sticks his smelly pits in his face, the Ray who is cheeky and playful and a bit goofy, doing those things or acting that way with Mew. And I don't even mean within the context of any romantic relationship - I find it really hard to imagine their friendship having any such similar moments, where they're just two boys being a bit daft. With Sand Ray can be flirty, sensual, fierce, but he can also be silly, petulant, carefree (whilst sober). I just can't see him exhibiting that duality in his relationship with Mew. In their scenes previous to The Dance of Doom, he's usually been quite serious, heavy, earnest - weighed down, whether by Mew's expectations or his own feelings I don't know (likely both). He just seems so much lighter when he's with Sand (and they're apart from everyone else). I'm not saying it's Mew's fault - maybe it's a result of the pedestal he occupies in Ray's mind, but I just thought it was interesting. Ray often seems like an entirely different person when he's with Sand. And I think that's why those of us rooting for a (healthy) endgame are so invested, because in those interactions we see the person Ray COULD be, and it's pretty clear it's Sand that brings out that potential. Again, not saying he doesn't also require a shitload of soul-searching and professional help, but how could you NOT want him to reach that potential? And I'm almost certain the showrunners would agree. Now that doesn't necessarily mean the only way to get there is a Sand/Ray happy ending or that Sand owes it to Ray to put up with his bullshit in the meantime, but I think Sand wants that for Ray too and I don't think that makes him pathetic. I think Sand is pretty good at spotting when Ray's behaviour is that of someone in crisis vs being a brat/careless. It's probably why he requires an apology for Ray dropping him at the end of ep 3 but not for the insults at the end of ep 6 (well that and the whole near death experience!). No, Sand is under no obligation to keep loving/caring for Ray at his worst, but if he CHOOSES to do so because he's seen him at his best and because he knows the pain that lies beneath it all, well then actually that's something quite remarkable. Not romantic, mind you - remarkable. I'm not romanticising anything. But to me that shows a strength of character and a depth of compassion that's worthy of respect.

Great observations! I also can't really see a teasing, light-hearted RayMew relationship (at least, not when they're both sober), mostly because we haven't seen that dynamic much at all between them as friends. The thing that makes friends-to-lovers plots so successful is the chemistry between friends conjoined with romantic chemistry. And I don't get much of either of those between them (possibly because the vast majority of scenes between Ray and Mew only are about Ray's alcohol/drug problems).

A lot of this goes back to what you said about Ray putting Mew on a pedestal. It's always felt like Mew is in a superior position while Ray is only pining after him. With Ray and Sand, we see Sand acknowledge the dangers of Ray's behavior, but it never comes across as domineering or self-righteous (reminds me of @bird-inacage's analysis here about how Sand and Mew react differently to Ray's addictions).

I definitely think Ray is a better version of himself with Sand. He's noticeably less drunk around him, he opens up about his past, he apologizes and speaks relatively openly about his feelings, he makes an effort to invest in Sand's interests...the list goes on. Those are all signs of a healthy relationship built on mutual interests. For Ray and Mew, I think it's fair to say there are other motivations beyond romantic feelings.

I also admire Sand's depth of compassion. As you said, he is under no obligation to keep coming back to Ray and caring for him the way he does, but the fact that he is doing that despite knowing that he deserves better says a lot about his values. When he cares for someone, he cares for them deeply, despite the pain they might inflict upon him. For someone like Sand who seems so headstrong in other areas of his life, there's something endearing about how soft he is for Ray.

[eddiediaaz]

I’m going to send you the same thing I sent op but in a less rude way because I do follow you and like you!

“As someone who's bi, has been sexually abused, has daddy issues and has adhd, I don't agree with what you've said at all. I liked Tommy and Bucktommy until 7x09, I don't like his humor and I don't like how rude he talks and I respect people who do, each to his own. Also, good for them for having sex and kinky sex.

The reason why l've been a problem with this daddy kink joke is that wasn't the moment. You said "don't do a daddy issues joke if you don't want a daddy king joke", well no. I can joke with my traumas, because they're mine, I don't want you to joke about my traumas. Plus, having daddy issues doesn't mean that you have daddy kink. For someone who was saying a lot of things about assuming, that's assuming too. Not everyone with daddy issues have daddy kinks and for some people that joke can be triggered at.

And that has been the main problem people have been saying about the joke. No that they have kinky sex, which okay good for them, Buck has been having kinky sex since season 1 nothing new there.

The problem is that how something that is important, that can be triggered, that it was a vulnerable conversation was made into a sexual joke when it wasn't the moment.”

And adding: You can interpret that scene as flirting, which no, but okay, it’s valid. It’s also valid to interpret that scene as gross, especially if we have daddy issues and the last thing we want if to make our issues a sexual joke, valid too. Accusing us of homophobia just because we don’t like a joke, that’s not valid, that’s just creating a war using big and fancy words.

Hope you’re having a good day and hope you had it still having a good trip :) <3

okay so i don't think everyone reblogging the post is being a homophobic piece of thit, it is just a tumblr post after all. i'm a very nuanced person and i don't think reblogging or liking a post even means you agree with all of it. but i have seen some fucked up tags/reblogs and those are problematic. those do reek of homophobia. it is a big word because it's a big accusation that's for sure warranted in some instances.

this definitely comes down to personal interpretation, in this case, i think. because as someone who's also bisexual, also has daddy issues (my dad was a drug addict that was absent for a while and my ex step dad for my whole childhood was very alcoholic and abusive & manipulative man towards me until i left home at 17), and also has experience with (childood) sexual assault, i definitely saw this scene as some light flirting after a more serious conversation. tommy asked him if he was okay, they shared personal things about their fathers, and then there was a bit of flirting. one light hearted joke that matched buck's tone. and some people are acting like he told buck to get on his knees and call him daddy when it's not what happened at all? as always, some people are extrapolating what actually happened. buck is no stranger to dirty jokes and innuendos, like you said. what is true for some people ("not the moment to make a sex joke"), does not mean it's true for everyone and all fictional characters.

also not liking tommy or his humor or the ship or this scene or this joke is 100% valid, nothing wrong with that. it's just personal opinion. but when people say or insinuate he's being a predatory gay man towards buck? that he should be killed over it (even as a joke)? that's messed up, in my opinion. and there's a big difference between not liking something for yourself and accusing a gay man of being predatory. that's when that line gets crossed that i have issues with, and me reblogging 2 posts about it, that's what it meant for me.

ultimately i just think that was meant to be a lighthearted scene in a very trauma heavy episode? obviously it missed the mark for some people, but people jumping through hoops to call tommy predatory and a bad person over this, it's just such a reach. it's obvious to me that buck liked the joke with the smiles they shared, is it not? also some people are acting like tommy ordered him to call him daddy from now on lol, when all he said was "god, i hope you do." like that's pretty harmless actually sfdjkhbfds

anyway, i'm sorry you can relate to all of these, sending love <3 and also thanks for not assuming the worst of me, i guess? because that's what i always try to do with people. but if you don't agree with me and unfollowing me would make you feel better, well no hard feelings. curate your dash and all that!

[eemcintyre]

"Seawolf: The Pirate's Curse" (2005) review

Surprisingly, honestly... why did I enjoy this? I guess after a couple of major misses for me in the form of "The Kidnapping" and "Beyond Forgiveness", my expectations were appropriately low, but this one actually had some likable characters and humor, and that always manages to rope me in. I have a soft spot for fun, silly action fare like this bc of childhood shows like "The Greatest American Hero", I think.

So, the title never makes any sense... what was it supposed to mean? what curse?

First and foremost, I must say TIG is looking oh-so-very pretty and rugged here- the necklaces, the bandanas, the curly-q hair, the tank tops, the sweaty, the ARMMMSSSS 😩

Initially had absolutely no clue what was going on in the beginning; a bunch of people with weird ass outfits in the dark and I was just like please no don't let that be him in the damn fucking cape and eyepatch and o n e l e g; I was like he can't possibly have one leg the whole time, right?? 🤨

But yeah I was definitely experiencing the "dear God what did I get myself into, cheers to another awful mess" 🫡🥂

Why does half the audio sound dubbed (particularly everything that comes out of Rachel's mouth)? Also props to Rachel for being the most emotionally unaffected person ever bc her reactions were so disproportionately calm to what would happen if my bf was constantly disappearing overseas and totaled my gorgeous pink car

We're getting some very Max Parrish-type hooting and hollering up in here; a concise summary of Thorpe is that he's basically if Max had a boat and was an alcoholic instead of a drug addict

We get another hallmark of TIG's movies with a slew of incredibly cringe one-liners that elicit a physical reaction of pain from me, but for every few there was actually a genuinely funny one here and there, so I'll allow it this time...

The whole "I'm a pirate, my father was a pirate, etc." speech had me ROLLING and NOT IN THE WAY THE WRITERS INTENDED I THINK BC HUH??

When he met Helene in that random room full of paintings I was sure we were supposed to take it that the mission was smth art theft-related. but no she just has a passion for maximalist design ig.

Why does the camera get randomly shaky for no reason? Very avant-garde of them

Am I the only one who thinks that Carlos looks like a Walmart George Clooney? Someone else pls tell me I'm not insane

Always throws me off-guard but it's such fun to see TIG in an uncharacteristically light scene like the one where he's dancing in the parade and surrounded by the circle of dancers in the bar. At least he seemed like he was having a good time in this movie 🎉

Ramon and his lil book and the bar scene of Thorpe and Helene drunkenly arguing w each other and sitting on the side of the road was what really started to sell me

anD THEN HE FKIN DR A G S HER ASS 😂

Plus I cannot go without mentioning my appreciation for the way he was holding her knee 👀💕

Love how he spends the majority of this movie just dressed like someone's hot dad who works out, in his cargo shorts, tank top and goatee- oH WAIT IT'S BC HE IS A HOT DAD WHO WORKS OUT IN REAL LIFE

Love how Carlos and all the other villains are devoid of personality or motive except for ~money~, like "the Colonel" doesn't even have a name!!!

Was genuinely stressed that my boy was going to clock himself in the head when he was swinging that rope trying to scale that building

When Helene straight-up PUNCHED HER SISTER IN THE FACE like these ladies have some beef and I need to know where it stems from

This film is another great example of TIG's grossly underutilized comedic potential- a là the map reading scene

Hilarious how Carlos just shrugs like "I don't care, whatever I guess" when who he believes to be Marlena says she wants to say a dramatic goodbye to Thorpe

Ok but how did he not die?? Thank goodness but how??

Even more hilarious how the Colonel, who has had nothing but hatred and murderous intent for Thorpe throughout, is just so touched by Thorpe's being a ✨ big softie with morals ✨ that his vengeful compulsions are soothed and he's content with taking the gold like "hey bro, we're square now <3" and just fuckin walks away

Good on them for giving the treasure back to Mexico

Was legit concerned for too long there that they weren't actually going to end up together and I was screeching

DO THEY ACTUALLY USE THE SAME SHOT OF THE BOAT AT SUNSET IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MOVIE AND AT THE END?? lmaooo

Honestly, I think they could have leaned even more into the humorous aspect and the treasure hunt part of the film; made it a bit more of a National Treasure/Indiana Jones sort of thing, and I definitely would have liked some more character development, esp. for the sidekicks and villains, but overall, I award this film an unexpected 6/10. I had a good time 🙃🩷

[gingerylangylang1979]

Will Carmy become an addict?... Also, exactly what are his mental health (or other) issues?

This conversation is an offshoot of thoughts expressed here in conversation with @november-rising.

I'll start by saying I do not think Carmy is currently an addict or in recovery from an addiction. But, could Carmy become an addict like his dad (was he an addict or just a heavy abuser, we don't know) Mikey, and Donna? Maybe. Also, I hope nothing I write is offensive to anyone. If anyone thinks there is something I'm missing or misrepresenting please share and we can talk about it. I'm open to learning.

The statistic rates for people impacted by another person's addiction becoming an addict themselves is high. I myself had a drug addict mom and an alcoholic ex. I dabbled in drugs but never became an addict unless you count cigarettes and weed (no longer do either). How me and my brother didn't end up addicts despite our experimentation with hard substances is beyond me. All of the prerequisites were in place and I feel like we almost were tempting it like, come on, I know you want to take me, yet, neither of us ended up addicts.

Sometimes I felt it would make things easier. I think it was Lou Reed, maybe, who said something like addiction made life simple because then you only have one problem to deal with. I wish I only had one problem. I tried stuff as hard as coke, meth, and opium. I was a bartender and partied but never became an alcoholic. My brother went as far as trying heroin a few times. But neither of us became addicts. It's insane if you think about it.

Does that mean we didn't/do participate in fucked up self-destructive behavior? Hell no. Most of my life I have battled with trying to "be normal" all the while self sabotaging all along the way. But I never became an addict.

This is why it's so easy for me to see Carmy in all of his darkness and still see how he isn't necessarily someone doomed to become an addict. Nat didn't become one, me and my brother didn't become ones. I see a lot of us in Nat and Carmy. Carmy is way worse off than Nat, for sure. How, I dunno. And I would say I'm closer to Carmy in the melancholic creative way than my brother. So it's kind of a weird blessing that traumatized people who you would think would become addicts, don't, but it happens.

Could Carmy become one? I think if he continues to not address his issues with individual therapy, continues to blame himself, and just continues the same grind he wanted to escape, possibly. But I'm looking more to how Storer and Co. are telling the story as my signs more than Carmy's actual history. I guess I just don't see what the show would have to gain from Carmy becoming an addict. It would be a tragic ending. I'm not beyond them doing some tragic ending but I think it would just be kind of lame and what was the point if it ends with Carmy continuing the cycle and becoming an addict.

I see him and Nat as the second chance for the Berzattos. She is about to be a mom and hopefully will raise a child that doesn't have to witness any of the trauma she did. Carmy is trying to start over and I think as much as he is struggling now and it may get worse before better, I just see too many points of lightness for him to crawl towards/through. And I think this being so inspired by Storer's lived experience, I can't see him wanting it to end in doom and gloom. Chris and Coco are Carmy and Nat to me. They broke the curse. I think because of that he would want the show to reflect that.

Now, what the fuck is wrong with Carmy, in detail. I will start by saying we don't really know a diagnosis. I think common/possibly correct assumptions are a mix of anxiety, depression, and CPTSD. But I've also seen other ideas like maybe he is on the spectrum among other things. I'm not quick to say anything outside of the first three. He could be neurodivergent, but I guess what makes me not want to say that is because when people bring it up there is often this sentiment that it explains everything about him or that is takes precedent over his behavior being a reaction to his trauma. Two things can be true at the same time but I sometimes feel people apply neurodivergence in a way that dismisses how the average person would deal with a series of overlapping traumas.

The same way I see people assign Sydney as being neurodivergent and I'm like, or she could just be dealing with a lot of bullshit and trauma as a black woman? Because shit, I'm similar, does that mean I'm neurodivergent, too? Not to take away anyone who is neurodivergent and they relate to things they see in the characters. I'm just saying be careful to not dismiss common reactions to lived experience as such without more insight. Or sometimes people can be awkward or quirky without it being neurodivergence. Like sometimes it comes across as what we do know the characters have gone through isn't enough to justify what we see.

I will say I could see a case for Carmy having a learning disability. The evidence being his dislike for reading extensively and his very poor math skills. I think it was @eatandsleepwell who pointed out he only likes books with pictures. It's true. Most of his books are image heavy. And a lot of people are bad at math but he can't keep up with basic addition and subtraction (aka dyscalculia). But again, I think we are seeing evidence of this specific condition, not vague symptoms that could occur due to a number of things.

None of this is to say speculation or headcanons are not welcome. But to hard assign diagnosis is another thing.

[byjillianmaria]

As I dive into the umpteenth draft of A Colder Home, I decided to do a meta dump similar to the one I did for Behind You! Very similar, actually... you'll notice that all of the photos are more or less in the same place. And that is because I am lazy. But not too lazy to ramble about inspirations under the cut!

SONGS

Once again, my eight track playlist for this WIP goes extremely hard, and once again, I could easy ramble about all eight of those tracks. I will stick to the three I selected for this graphic.

This Unrest by Siouxsie and the Banshees - In general, I associate this WIP with a lot of post-punk and goth rock, so of course I had to lead with an iconic goth rock band. The lyrics are haunting and capture a feeling of deep unease, which is the sort of feeling that pervades this book. Also, there are a lot of weird vocalizations in this... gasping noises that sound like someone being strangled, along with echoing, ghostly shouts. Both become very relevant.

Blue by The Birthday Massacre - I started associating this song with A Colder Home immediately upon hearing it. It absolutely calls to mind a house haunted by ghosts that are slowly being twisted by their anger the longer they stick around, the singing switching back and forth between calm and violent. The lyrics even reference a car crash! And the notion of "casting shadows in a pale shade of blue" does remind me of limited light making its way through snow-caked windows...

Double Dare by Bauhaus - Okay, I'm going to be real with you. I don't associate the lyrics of this song so much with this WIP. I mean, if you want to stretch it, you can say that Cleo's whole arc deals with her learning to "dare" to hope and to not live her life ruled by fear, but that's about it. What really gets this song for me is the heavy, oppressive instrumental. It absolutely sounds like a house that's weighted down with decades of pain and anger and guilt... a house that is now reflecting those emotions in destructive, violent ways.

BOOKS

Writing that influenced A Colder Home! Like the books I referenced for Behind You, I wouldn't consider these comp titles, just inspirational.

My Heart is a Chainsaw by Stephen Graham Jones - SGJ is such an influential horror writer for me, with The Only Good Indians probably being one of my favorite books of all time, and is also a heavy influence for A Colder Home as far as pacing and tone. I haven't actually finished MHIAC yet — I have to read it slowly, because Jade's specific flavor of paranoia does not play very nicely with mine — but I included it as the reference title here because, like A Colder Home, its main character is a teenaged horror movie nerd.

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson - I mean, Hill House is THE haunted house novel. Of course I'm going to include it as a reference! The opening paragraphs of this novel are burned into my mind, and its characterization of a haunted house definitely influences how I write the house on Brewer Street. I'd also be pretty remiss not to bring up the Mike Flanagan adaption here... while it's decidedly its own thing separate from the novel, his specific brand of emotionally-fueled horror writing has definitely left its mark on me.

The Shining by Stephen King - I mean. A Colder Home is a book about people trapped by snow in a haunted location. Need I say more? Interestingly, both of these books also deal with themes of alcoholism and addiction, although they come from very different emotional places. Cleo also references the Stanley Kubrick movie at one point, which is, again, very different from the book. But as a film nerd, I think it makes sense that she'd think of that over the book... I do also wonder if the film's less sympathetic portrayal of Jack Torrence might have stuck with her more. She probably wouldn't like me pointing that out, though.

The Fall of the House of Usher by Edgar Allan Poe - Another work that gets directly referenced in the book! It's not a direct comparison or anything, but it gets referenced early, and over time more parallels can be drawn... Overall, thematically, this borrows a lot when it comes to complicated family dynamics, skepticism vs. rationality, and that sort of overall inevitability/hopelessness thing that goes on.

VIDEO GAMES

I'm not much of a gamer myself, but the way that the medium is able to tell horror stories is fascinating! I've enjoyed watching Let's Plays of both of these titles.

P.T. by Kojima Productions - P.T. was a playable teaser for a (tragically) scrapped Silent Hill game, and it remains one of the absolute creepiest things I have ever seen in my life. The sound design haunts me... every time I hear something that sounds like that creaky light, I break out in goosebumps. I cannot replicate the feeling of this thing in ink and paper, but goddamn it if I'm not going to at least try. Also, you can definitely feel Lisa's design in Virginia, one of the main ghosts of A Colder Home, haha.

Devotion by Red Candle Games - I'm really fascinated by the way the story unfolds in this, how the player is given these little vignettes and has to piece the story together from that. I think you can sort of see that in the way I approach some of the ghost scenes in A Colder Home... but, also, I'm very inspired by just how personal this game feels. The little details in the set design just really add to the sense that you know these characters, and makes the scares hit all the harder.

POETRY

Poetry can express in just a few lines the same emotion that it takes me thousands of words to dig into! One is not better than the other, but I'd lie if I said I wasn't inspired by it.

In The Pines by Alice Notley - Technically, I think the version of it in this graphic is from the song #6 by AroarA, but they pulled their lyrics directly from Alice Notley's book of poetry, so I feel like that's where the attribution lies. This poem absolutely gutted me the first time I read it... It makes me think of loving someone who is unwilling or unable to stop their self-destructive tendencies, and how hopeless that can feel. Which is, really, what's at the core of this book.

Selfishness by Margaret E. Bruner - This book deals a lot with complex feelings of grief, and some of the less savory feelings that comes from that. Anger, guilt, blame... these are all really human and understandable reactions to a loss, especially if that loss is sudden. The horror in A Colder Home comes from watching what happens when those emotions are all that's left... I think that poem really captures that energy.

[jessssssssssssssssssica97]

2008

It's nothing revolutionary, but I think when I was a kid I felt a lot more free to explore the things that I was naturally drawn to. But for some reason all throughout my life I always pushed everything off to a time of "later." Like when my favorite bands were playing a show in my town I would forego it thinking they'd come back eventually, I would never dye my hair green because it never made sense to. Now that I'm an adult, a lot of those bands broke up (and we're never getting a Title Fight reunion) and I work in finance so I can't dye my hair green.

This is all just coming to mind because I found the login information to my DeviantArt account from literally 15 years ago, and there is one writing sample on there that was actually pretty poetic and not that bad for a 12-year-old, albeit it completely fantasizing about turning into a vampire. I still have a deep obsession with vampires even though I don't really talk about it. I mean, actually, what is there to talk about. I do deep down wish for every Halloween that I could dress as a vampire. I did one time in college, and I actually have never felt better about myself. Maybe I should research vampires in depth more. Maybe I should write another vampire fanfic.

On that point, this is sort of where I'm coming from with writing this. Since becoming sober (today is day #422), I feel like I'm getting to know myself all over again. Part of the reason why I have to be sober is that I am the type of person who wants to do everything to an extreme, to a fault - if I can't do something the most then there's no point in starting in the first place. With drinking, it was that if I couldn't black out then why would I start drinking in the first place? Alcoholics rise up. Anyway, that characteristic about myself (in AA we call some of these things "character defects" which I find unfair at times) is giving me this attitude about rediscovering my interests that can be entirely unhelpful. I love painting, and I'm decent at it, but if the painting can't be exactly how it is in my brain then I have trouble starting it. I've always wanted to learn how to play guitar and start a band, but if I can't write music that sounds exactly like the music I want to make then why should I take a class? It's very difficult to work around this mindset.

I don't think that I am unique in this, at all. I think that a lot of people have this problem. Artists say things all the time like the best thing you can do is to just get something on a page. That's why challenges like Inktober exist, just to give people prompts to draw more often. I know that you can't ever get better if you never even try. I really don't want to have an existence where I have a laundry list of things I've always wanted to do, but was too afraid to do them. I know 27 is relatively young, but it simultaneously feels too old to start with anything that I want to. I know that that's not true, but that's just how I feel. I feel like I have lived a lot of my life so far fueled by fear - fear of being broke, fear of looking like a lazy addict. Throughout my alcoholism I got a master's degree and got myself a job in investment banking. I think if I truly loved myself I wouldn't have done that.

I still have a lot of fear, but I want to fuel myself from it in a different way. I'm afraid to die without ever having lived in another country. I'm afraid to never have worked through the misogynistic competition trauma that I got from my mother. I'm afraid that I'll never perform on a stage again and feel the warmth of lime light. I'm afraid that I will lose my ability to communicate with people in French, and I'm afraid that my brain will become too weak to improve my Russian. I'm afraid to stand up to my parents and tell them that I have tattoos - they're big tattoos, I can't hide them for much longer. These are all things that are on my "bucket list" that come to mind when people say to "grab life by the balls" or whatever, but every single one of them takes work and that is so scary. My throat has that quivery feeling right now and my eyes are getting wet thinking about my life having to muster up the courage to do all this, but I'm most afraid of never finding the courage. I am a very strong person. Very strong. I can do it.

I remade a Tumblr account to start a blog just so I can write these things out into the ether. I do have a journal, but there is something about writing a blog that brings me a deep comfort. It's because I am a child of the internet. I was raised on Tumblr, I firmly believe that it shaped me into the person I am today. I already mentioned Title Fight, green hair, and vampires, didn't I...?

I also have other things I want to write about, more serious things with a lot more structure. I am thinking of starting a SubStack just to get some of my ideas out there. I saw on Tik Tok the other day that a woman was "launching" a SubStack. That is so serious. Do I have to officially launch a SubStack? Should I draft my essay and have it peer reviewed first?

This is the first of my rambles. I speak like this in person, too. Feels good!

[mayisgoingnuts]

Honestly yeah lmao

And for Angel and Husk—

So I inspired Angel by Jessica Rabbit from Who Framed Roger Rabbit in this AU—while I had no particular inspiration for Husk besides Eddie Valiant from Who Framed Roger Rabbit and Ray Charles (dude who sang Hit The Road Jack).

Angel in this au is still an inappropriate film star, pole dancer, etc etc—and he still has that sassy charm to him. He mainly acts this way as a front with other people like in the original show, but he can also be REALLYYYY threatening when pissed, and that's usually when his past as a guy from a mob family comes out. He's also more of a shitty person here? Just because he's been in Hell for a long time, so he's bound to lose any sort of kindness he might have had before. He's very rude to Charlie at first and is actually kind of passive aggresive with her sometimes, but grows from this over the show and grows to like her. And when he's not putting on a front, he's very vulnerable and miserable—just to show how much Valentino's treatment of him has effected him. He can also sing pretty well unsurprisingly—and can actually play the saxophone.. for some reason.

Due to his past as a mob family member though, he still has some pretty fucked up tendencies, and due to being sus of Sir Pentious when he first arrives, he basically pulls him to the side and attempts to torture him incase he might have some info (with Vaggie joining him until Charlie puts an end to it). Angel really sees nothing wrong with the way his family taught him during the earlier seasons and always acts like people are over-reacting when they point out this behavior of his. But once again, he slowly learns that it isn't okay over the show, and grows from it.

He's also still an alcoholic and drug addict here, because he wants some feel of escape from all the stuff Valentino makes him do, but he's so convinced that Val loves him due to Valentinos manipulation. And it's even worse because Valentino always acts like nothings wrong whenever other people are around, and even if people knew what he was like, they could basically do nothing about Val due to him being a fuckin Overlord and this being Hell. (Angel's voice is also the same in this rewritten version btw, but with a minor distortion/other voice playing in the back anytime he talks)

As for Husk—he isn't that much different here since I don't see much wrong with him in the show? But he's also very depressed due to losing his position as an Overlord, and holds some slight arrogance due to being once in that position. But he of course grows from this, and realizes maybe all of his confidence was just some stupid front he was putting on for himself so he didn't have to confront his insecurities (which were basically about him dying alone and pathetic in the real world, and he also had a kid in the real world, so he hates himself for leaving her up there). Also he's a little more frightened of Alastor here, and usually just kinda tries his best to shut the fuck up when he's around due to being afraid of what he might do with his soul.

As for Loser Baby in this AU—I think the problem with it was that the poppy beat and light-hearted lyrics made people take it kinda wrong? As an SA victim, I did get the message that it was supposed to be like "Hey, you aren't alone—I'm in the same situation too so don't worry, we're in this together. But I can see how some people would misinterpret it here. So instead of a song number, it's more of an emotional scene where Husk first explains he was an Overlord once, and then tells Angel that he belongs to Alastor now, and tells him that there's really nothing either of them can do about their situations due to their respective tormentors being overlords—but that Angel's pain is valid, and that he's not in this alone. And THEN that's when the sharks come in and the fight scene happens.

Angel's outfit is SO good tho ksjdksjf

But DAMN POOR SIR PENTIOUS D:

[death-breeds-wisdom]

If I ever turn them into stories I think I'm gonna have the centre conflict revolve around lying. They all have done majorly fucked up things in the past that, if come to light, would make them not be able to look eachother in the eyes. So they agree to never speak about who they were/what they did before Belldale.

Izzy has never left belldale and his history is somewhat of an open secret (the abuse, the addictions, the trauma is all worn on his face, sleeve and demeanour), but Jackrabbit made sure no one knew that he was the one that caused the Bela debacle. Not because she cares for Izzy, but because if people target izzy they target her, and she cannot ever appear vulnerable. The canines are only allowed to exist because she seems unshakeable and constant. Immortal. Eventually though, when the govt starts poking the canines and jackrabbit starts unravelling, his crimes will come to light. Or maybe he'll slip up and say something he wasn't supposed to know. Or maybe he'll start getting targeted a suspicious amount. Because after all, how could be an alcoholic kid that important to the national government.

Roz straight up used to work against the canines. The canines are the dominating group in the federation, but the closest rival, the townies, are based in Rovenport where Roz used to live. She started out as a fighter for their boxing clubs but quickly became a body guard. She was originally sent to belldale to sabotage, but the entire operation went tits up and people don't ask too many questions around those parts. The canines sort of have a don't ask don't tell policy. Her doom will most likely be her old colleagues recognising her and wanting revenge for sinking the mission. Or maybe there's been a leak on the townies' side and the names/faces of the high ranking members will reach jackrabbit.

Mika killed his dad. It's actually the crime most forgivable, but only cail knew what he did. Not their mother, not his sister. His secrets are way more acceptable (I avoid using the word moral because on the occasion he has made bombs), but they'd still change your perception of him. I think he'll just non chalantly admit it in the middle of a drinking game. Or maybe... roz will think about making amends with her father only to find out that he's been dead for years. Maybe returning to Rovenport to seek out her father is what gets her caught.

Cail's biggest fuck up is willful ignorance. They were ripped from this reality and shoved into a world with 4 dimensions where they gained sacred knowledge and was tasked with killing a god, but they declined and went home. They practically brought about the end of the world and just sort of ignored that. The 4th dimension held onto them for a while and tried to pull them back, bit Cail severed their connection to that. They could've saved the world but thought "nah fuck that I'd rather go back to bothering Mika." There isn't an answer to the question of how much he'd sacrifice because he couldn't be fucked to care enough. Truly, I have no idea how the others would find out about the existence of the 4th dimension or an impending doom originating from there. For all they know Cail had a psychotic break and carved out their own eye.

Hedry, the ever-loyal and considerate Hedry is the only one who can be blamed for her fate. She and quite a lot of her school friends left Manfort Isle for Ineverue and she is single-handedly responsible for one of their deaths and dissolving the group. She is the one who got them into crime. She is the one who got police sent after them. So she fled to Belldale. She, unlike the rest, talks alot about her time in Ineverue, but she seemingly seems to forget the most painful details. The others don't question why she suddenly left for Belldale but they will once they find the police reports.

Julia... has too many secrets to count. He's a hyperreligious liar who only answers to his god and thus would throw everyone that cares for him under the bus in the name of staying faithful to a canonically uncaring god who will sentence him to hell regardless. He lies for no reason and no remorse. The fact that he's faked his death twice before aren't even the craziest things (Okay yeah and he's also killed innocent people in the name of pettiness). Even I don't know why he fucks people over that much. His real self being revealed is directly linked to Izzy getting suspiciously targeted, because he's the one to rat him out to the government people and after Izzy gets back from his little meeting with the officials, he starts to wonder how they could know. Besides, the only people who know are either dead or Jackrabbit and Julia...

[kaddyssammlung]

Granite – Analysis

“Sulfur on your breath”

Alchemy boy! At least that is how I would connect this.

Taken from Google: Sulfur represents properties such as drynesss, heat and masculinity. In alchemy it could also represent evaporation, expansion and dissolution.

Dissolution makes me think about Aqua Regia.

But also maybe he means rather alcohol on your breath than Sulfur. Just that phrase alcohol on your breath brings back so many bad memories. I don't really feel like diving deeper into this.

And yes drinking is hard to hide.

“Granite in my chest”

I guess that he means that he is angry. When I'm really angry I can feel a heaviness in my chest, also.

“You won't ever have to talk about it You'll never have to talk about it”

I have a feeling I don't even want to know what he means with “it”. The whole vibe so far just feels like he is angry.

“Fury too damn late”

Does he means his fury? As if he can see someone now for what they really are and now he feels like he should have gotten mad at them a lot sooner?

I know that feeling. But also regretting things does not really help.

“Reason dislocates”

The reason as to why it took him so long to realize that he was not being treated well? It dislocates? Like in an accident? A dislocated shoulder? "Remember my cracking bones"?!

“I was more than just somebody in your passenger seat”

Since I went to therapy for quite some time, I'm familiar with that analogy. It was often used by therapists to describe something to me. How you let somebody else take control over you and over your life. You are not in the driver's seat and not the one in control but you are just in the passenger seat and someone is driving for you or has control over you. Or in my case it was something else that had control over me (addiction).

I get that.

Or he means an actual passenger seat.

He mentioned alcohol before and now a passenger seat. That seems like a bad idea.

“and you were more than just somebody I was destined to meet”

I really do feel that you meet someone for a purpose. You can learn something from everything. I say this and mean this but when it comes to stuff like trauma that is being put on children then I have my doubts about certain things...idk...I don't feel like elaborating on this more.

“I see you go half-blind when you're looking at me but I am”

I have this connected with aura seeing. He probably does not mean that but that's just what I have this connected with.

Some humans out there, such as spiritual teachers, I percieve as “bright”. As if there was light coming from them. That's why I have this connected with going half-blind.

He probably means someone who does not want to look at him for some reason? Or maybe he does not feel like he is seen? Or maybe it has something to do with the “sulfur” from the begging?

“Between the second hand smoke and the glass on the street”

More drinking and even some smoking? The greens I guess?! Idk though.

“You gave me nothing whatsoever but a reason to leave”

Then go, Vessel. They seem like they are no good! But that's just me making assumptions.

“You say you want me, but you know I'm not what you need But I am”

"I am" with nothing added is the strongest affirmation we can say btw. Just wanted to add that. I forgotten the explanation for it, though.

It's free from Ego that's for sure.

But also in this case he says that he is not what they need but he still is what they need?! It feels like a contradiction.

“When you sit there acting like you know me acting like you only brought me here to get below me never mind the death threats, parting at the door”

What?! Death threats is the one that always gets to me. Why be with someone who does that to you? And also yes some humans out there just want to sleep with you. That's not a secret. It's not a nice feeling for me when you kind of sense that in someone. As if you were a toy for them. I don't like that.

“We'd rather be six feet under than be lonely”

Burry me to the sound of name.....

Why stay in an abusive relationship? Because the fear of being alone or lonely is bigger then the abuse that you are dealing with. Either that or you don't even recognize the abuse as such.

Or in other words: welcome to my BPD hell. But that's not the case anymore but it was.

Then I ended up totally on my own and alone and it was the best thing ever. But it took me a really long time to see that.

“And if you had a problem, then you should've told me before you started getting all aggressive and controlling”

Someone who is in “survival mode” gets controlling. They don't trust themselves and they also don't trust others.

“You only drink the water when you think it's holy”

??? For some reason this makes me think about alcohol again.

“So keep an eye on the road or we will both be here forever”

You will be there forever because you will die? Drunk driving? I have mentioned my car accidents before. I was rear-ended twice in one year. Accidents like these can be seen as “initiations”. I could write more about that but this a big topic.