#and i shall find out in about 2 months when i get the book

[tired-demonspawn]

something about the billford renaissance made me think a little bit

because like. intelectually. i hate this fucking ship dude. it SHOULD, make me hate to be alive. however. i see a post and i reblog it. i like it. i piss myself laughing looking at it.

because what i have realised is that: there are some ships that are simply too funny not to support

like okay the main two ways i have seen this ship portraied and working very well are: one sided and funny.

tho to be fair the one sided thing is usually also funny like i saw that one 'im not gay bill' diary of a whimpy kid meme redraw that shit was hillarious

but like says a lot right, that to enjoy something one would hate, you simply have to make it funny enough.

[acourtofquestions]

Golden flame danced between her fingers.

Elide recoiled, and the fire vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"My name is Essar," the female said softly. "I am a friend--of your friends, I believe."

Elide said nothing.

"Cairn is a monster," Essar said, taking a step closer. "Stay far from him."

"I need to find him."

"You played the part of his mistreated lover well enough. You have to know something about him. What he does."

"If you know where he is, please tell me." She wasn't above begging.

Essar ran an eye over Elide. Then she said, "He was in this city until yesterday. Then he went out to the eastern camp." She pointed with a thumb over a shoulder. "He's there now."

"How do you know?"

"Because he's not terrorizing the patrons of every fine establishment in this town, glutting himself on the coin Maeve gave him when he took the blood oath."

Elide blinked. She had hoped some of the Fae might be opposed to Maeve, especially after the battle in Eyllwe, but to find such outright distaste...

Essar then added, "And because my sister--the soldier you spoke with--told me. She saw him in the camp this morning, smirking like a cat."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because you are wearing Lorcan's shirt, and Rowan Whitethorn's cloak. If you do not believe me, inform them who told you and they will." Elide cocked her head to the side.

Essar said softly, "Lorcan and I were involved for a time."

They were in the midst of war, and had traveled for thousands of miles to find their queen, and yet the tightness that coiled in Elide's gut at those words somehow found space. Lorcan's lover. This delicate beauty with a bedroom voice had been Lorcan's lover.

"I'll be missed if I'm gone for too long, but tell them who I am. Tell them that I told you. If it's Cairn they seek, that is where he shall be. His precise location, I don't know." Essar backed away a step. "Don't go asking after Cairn at other taverns. He isn't well regarded, even amongst the soldiers. And those who do follow him... You do not wish to attract their interest."

Essar made to turn away, but Elide blurted,

"Where did Maeve go?"

Essar looked over her shoulder. Studied her.

The female's eyes widened. "She has Aelin of the Wildfire," Essar breathed.

Elide said nothing, but Essar murmured, "That was... that was the power we felt the other night." Essar swept back toward Elide. Gripped her hands. "Where Maeve went a few days ago, I don't know. She did not announce it, did not take anyone with her. I often serve her, am asked to... It doesn't matter. What matters is Maeve is not here. But I do not know when she will return."

Relief again threatened to send Elide crumpling to the ground. The gods, it seemed, had not abandoned them just yet.

But if Maeve had taken Aelin to the outpost where they'd lied that the Valg prince had been contained...

Elide gripped Essar's hands, finding them warm and dry. "Does your sister know where Cairn resides in the camp?"

For long minutes, then an hour, they had talked.

Essar left and returned with Dresenda, her sister. And in that alley, they had plotted.

Elide finished telling Rowan, Lorcan, and Gavriel what she'd learned. They sat in stunned silence for a long minute.

"Just before dawn," Elide repeated. "Dresenda said the watch on the eastern camp is weakest at dawn. That she'd find a way for the guards to be occupied. It's our only window."

Rowan was staring into the trees, as if he could see the layout of the camp, as if he were plotting his way in, way out.

"She didn't confirm if Aelin was in Cairn's tent, though," Gavriel cautioned. "Maeve is gone--Aelin might be with her, too."

"It's a risk we take," Rowan said. A risk, perhaps, they should have considered.

Elide glanced to Lorcan, who had been silent throughout. Even though it had been his lover who had helped them, perhaps guided by Anneith herself. Or at least had been tipped off by the scent on Elide's clothes.

"You think we can trust her?" Elide asked Lorcan, though she knew the answer.

Lorcan's dark eyes shifted to her. "Yes, though I don't see why she'd bother."

"She's a good female, that's why," Rowan said.

At Elide's lifted brow, he explained, "Essar visited Mistward this spring. She met Aelin." He cut a glare toward Lorcan. "And asked me to tell you that she sends her best."

Elide hadn't seen anything that came close to pining in Essar's face, but gods, she was beautiful. And smart. And kind. And Lorcan had let her go, somehow.

[keeksandgigz]

the witch hunt

eddie munson x witch!reader

part 2 of "the love witch"

Summary: You've been good about keeping your magic a secret from Eddie, much to your dismay, so diligent on hiding your true self. What happens when you leave your potion cabinet unattended, he drinks one of your concoctions and turns himself into stone, leaving you to turn him back, right in front of his eyes?

CW: 5k words, no y/n, reader's nickname is 'witchy' , talk of the occult, wiccan practices, description of r's clothing, but no body description, eddie turns to stone, angsty angst angst but with a happy ending, witchy casts some serious spells in this one, mentions of witchy being depressed, eddie being a lovesick fool

thank u to my lovely @reidsbtch for beta reading I love u I love u I love u

Read part 1 here, Witchyverse masterpost here

feedback is always appreciated!

You've been good. You've been diligent. You've been following the rules of the coven.

To not share the gift with anyone, a secret kept under oath, hand over the binding of an old spell book, its surface course and rough, centuries of hands- young, old, powerful and weak, all part of the history of how that book came to be.

When you started dating Eddie, you were summoned, warned by your coven to keep the magic away from your human boyfriend, hidden under a veil of thin shame disguised as indifference.

And six months went by, then a year. You thought you were safe, you thought you'd gotten through the worst part of keeping the secret.

You deluded yourself. He loves you so much, there's no reason he would leave you, not even for a secret as big as yours. You've put protection spells around everything that involved actual magic in your house, the potion cabinet you kept in the hallways as decoration, the spell books hidden under a floorboard in your room.

Although he could not feel it, your apartment pulsated with raw magical energy in its purest form. You really thought you were safe.

A rainy November afternoon, you're tasked to bring some ingredients you've had stashed at your apartment to your aunt Hilda's house, a delivery from Janice- ingredients from Bulgaria, after your shift.

What surprises you about your aunt Hilda is that despite being a witch, she does not go unnoticed- living in one of the Painted Ladies house in the heart of San Francisco, all by herself and her cat, Arsenio.

She always invites you in for tea and a reading, so you step into her house, smelling of antique parchment, tea leaves and a mystical smell of pungent resin and wood, much different from your incense and dried flowers smell.

"I need to invite Janice over one of these days" she says in her veiled voice, pouring you a cup of jasmine tea.

"I don't know if she's going to be able to get out of Haight Ashbury, Aunt Hilda. She's like two- hundred years old or something" you laugh, rummaging through your bag for the delivery you visited your aunt for, placing the jars on the table.

She gasps in delight "You can't get those plants anywhere else, she must have paid a fortune for that blood from a vampire's fangs" she squeals, running to her cabinet to find a home for her new deliveries.

"How's your human, dear?" she asks from the kitchen, followed by clattering of glass and metal.

"Oh, Eddie's fine, he should be off work soon, maybe we'll do something after" you shrug, petting her cat, Arsenio, on your lap.

"And his handsome hunk of an uncle?" you roll your eyes at that.

"God, Aunt Hilda, gross" you groan, sinking in your seat.

"Let me know when he's back in town, I need to invite them both over one of these days, it might be nice. Shall we do a reading before I leave?" she sits back down at the small table and takes a sip of her tea, tarot cards in hand.

"Yeah, I'll ask him for his schedule" you finish your tea "Let me do a one card pull, I need to get home"

"You know, dear, you've been awfully nervous lately- so jumpy" She says, as she shuffles the laminated cards for what feels like forever,

"I'm okay, Aunt Hilda, just stressed with work" you lie, exhaling with anticipation as her wrinkled hand holds the deck. Your aunt's readings have always made you nervous.

You'd been jumpy for a while, the thought of Eddie finding out had been making you nervous, but you wouldn't dare to tell your aunt that.

She offers the deck to you, you pick a card and then give it to her. A gasp escapes her upon looking at it.

A panic rises through your body "What? What is it?" you ask, your bag already across your shoulder, holding on to its strap.

"The Tower" she mutters, destruction, unexpected change, awakening.

A shiver runs down your spine, one by one your vertebrae straighten "I just had a really bad feeling, dear. I would check in on your human boy" she places a hand on her temple, heart racing as you bolt out of your seat and leave.

On the train, panic settles in, wondering if Eddie was somehow connected to this.

A call startles you. It's him.

You tremble when nearing the phone to your ear.

"Hey, witchy, I'm at your house- I used the spare key. I just called 'cause I had a question" he says, voice dubious and vague.

"What is it, Ed? I'm on my way home"

"I was just wondering if it's normal that the cabinet in your hallway is open? I had to stop Circe from getting into it a couple times" you hear a meowing in the background, he must be holding her.

"What cabinet?" you feel your chest rise and fall at an incredibly fast pace.

"The one with the wilted flowers on them, it has a bunch of bottles. Are- are these fake potions?" There's an amused lilt in his voice, almost as if he's laughing at you. Fuck. The potion cabinet.

"Eddie don't touch anything, I'm literally here" your alarmed tone freaks him out, but he has no time to say anything as you hang up and enter your apartment building.

You run up the stairs, heart in your throat, as you reach your front door and slam it open. Eddie's head swings violently.

"Hey, witchy, what's wrong?" he stands up from the cabinet, holding Circe on one arm. You're heaving, irregular breaths, as you see he's still standing, alive, and breathing.

You close the door. "You didn't touch anything in there, did you?" you run towards the open cabinet, checking for missing bottles.

"Witchy, honey, I don't get why you're so jumpy about a couple of fake potions, they would actually be really useful for DnD" Eddie chuckles, reaching into the cabinet to grab a bottle, observing it up close. A greyish- blue liquid swirls inside the bottle.

"Eddie! Put it back! It's dangerous!" you exclaim as you reach for the bottle, but he's blocking you.

"Baby, I think you might be getting a little too carried away with this witchy stuff. There's no way you should be reacting like this over some water and dye" he swirls the bottle once again "I'll even drink it, show you it's not actually that dangerous"

A smug smile adorns his lips, as you watch helplessly while he uncorks the small vial and downs its content. 

“EDDIE NO” You aren’t even sure what it is, which makes a panic set into your stomach, hoping you could reverse whatever he ingested.

“No, no, no, no, what have you done?” your head encapsulated in your hands, feeling the beady sweat on your hairline, falling to your knees with the realization. You’re going to have to tell him.

“See? Not dangerous, baby. I love you, but you need to do something about this obsession, it’s getting out of hand” he sighs “I’m hungry i’m gonna get some food” but before he can even take a step, the rumbling of stone fills the room. 

You grab the empty glass vial and examine its label. Shit. He turned himself to stone.

In a panic, he looks at you. 

“Witchy, what’s going on?” his eyes dart from you to his frozen legs, the stone spreading itself upward quickly “Witch-what- is that stone?” He goes still after that.

A statue. His cold, grey eyes staring up at you in a panic. 

Tears brimming your eyes at the sudden realization that once you turn him back to normal he’s going to know. 

His hands feel cold at the touch as you cling on to your boyfriend’s statued form. Mouth agape, eyebrows pinched in fear, it hurt you to see him like this. You were going to lose it all because of a dumb mistake.

A desperate scream bubbles inside your chest as you hold yourself flush against Eddie’s cold surface, wishing his arms could hug you back, having to come to terms with the fact that this is probably the last time you’ll ever see him in your home. You won’t ever get to hold him again.

Weak and teary- eyed you reach for your phone, wiping under your eyes as you try to stabilize yourself. 

“Hello, dear?” aunt Hilda says through the phone. 

“Aunt Hilda I made a really terrible mistake” you sob, shoulders shaking with the violence of your hiccups. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?” the concern is palpable through her voice. 

“I left- left my potion cabinet open and Eddie-” another string of violent sobs follow, rumbled deep in your chest, shaking you to your very core. 

“What happened to Eddie?” The question is cautious, though unfortunately you could feel the alarm and sternness in her voice.

“He turned to stone” you sigh, exasperated, letting yourself sink into the sofa. 

“Stone? How did a human man turn to stone?” ever the help, your aunt exclaims. 

A dramatic exhale you feel like you’ve been holding onto “I left my potion cabinet open and he- and he has a spare key” you sob- all your fault for letting your guard down, all your fault for letting yourself care for him so mindlessly. 

“He got into it thinking they were all fake, I tried to- to stop him” a siffle stops you “he was trying to be funny” a string of sobs followed, unable to speak any longer. 

“You need to pull yourself together,” Hilda says, amidst your inconsolable sobs “you know how to reverse this” her voice is stern, yet shaky, she feels for you, having to let your love go. 

“The mirror” you mumble. 

“That’s right, get a mirror- circle of reflection, circle of protection” she reminds you “repeat those words, he’ll be okay, dear” you can tell that she is hurting, breaking the law of your coven, making you face consequences you haven't even thought of.  

Would you be losing your power? Would you have to move away from him? In hindsight that would be a blessing, as you doubt he would want to stay, now that your secret is uncovered. 

Hilda hangs up the phone as you scramble to get a mirror, and smear salt over his heart. Trying to reverse the spell that might have broken it. 

The mirror faces your boyfriend, his features grey and scared- the last time you’ll ever see him in this lifetime.

Circle of reflection, circle of protection

Circle of reflection, circle of protection

Circle of reflection, circle of protection

The hand that is not holding the mirror is clutched on tightly to his chest, as you keep repeating the words. 

The sound of rubble breaking makes your heart wrench, selfishly wanting him to stay a statue for a little longer, so you won’t have to say goodbye to him just yet, but the stone armor sheds, and his eyes are brown instead of dull and grey, and his arms move, as well as his mouth, closing in itself, breathing as if he’s come to life for the first time. 

He rubs his eyes first, drowsy, like waking up from a one- hundred year old slumber. He looks around the room, it’s familiar to him, the smell of incense that was there, and then it wasn’t, blocked by the earthy smell of rubble and earth. 

“What happened?” he mumbles, shaking his stiff limbs, kicking the broken suit of stone armor at his feet, your hand still on his heart “Witchy?” 

His eyes are blown wide, memories of what had happened an hour before coming to the surface. The same panicked look adorns his face. 

“The potion- it wasn’t” he begins, as you move your hand off of his body, much to your heart’s dismay. You shake your head. 

“It wasn’t fake. None of them are fake” you mutter, staring at the floor, not even daring to look at him. There’s a quiet tension, an almost awkward silence, charged with pain and heartbreak, as Eddie realizes what you mean by ‘not fake.’

“And you brought me back from whatever I turned into” he breathes.

You just nod, head fixated on the floorboards and the rubble surrounding his feet.

“Does that make you-” he gulps. Can’t even bring himself to say it. 

“A witch” you mumble under your breath “a real one,” your gaze falls on his eyes, dilated and sad, as his eyebrows curve up, a line forming on the bridge of his nose. 

There’s once again an unsettling quiet between you two, as he tries to wrap his head around the news. 

His chest feels hollow, where your hand had been just moments before, an unrecognizable phantom pressing down on his heart, rubbing salt in a gashing wound, hoping it would ameliorate it, only to make it bleed more.

He takes a few steps back, watching his step over the rubble, breaking his silence after what feels like hours. 

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” it’s a mere mumble, but the question was clear, hurt, and a little scared, maybe. 

“I swore under oath that I would keep it a secret” you purse your lips, taking a step forward. Your heart shatters when he takes a step back.

His chest is stilled, breath caught in his throat, hands at his sides as he scoffs. 

“You swore you’d keep it a secret? Is that why you’ve been so jumpy lately? You knew I was bound to find out and you didn’t tell me?” his head is reeling, betrayal cuts through him like a knife as more and more of looking at you twists the dagger in his chest. 

“I didn’t want you to find out, Ed. I promised to my coven-” 

“Your coven?  There’s more of you?” you can’t do anything else but swallow on the knot in your throat, scratching and engorging with every word that comes out of Eddie’s mouth, and nod. 

“And you let me drink the potion, God knows what it could have been” he trembles, a shaky breath escapes him. 

“I tried to stop you, Eddie!” you reach for him, hanging on the feeble hope he’ll realize that you have never meant to hurt him in the first place. 

“And- and what if you spelled me, huh? What if you spelled me to make me fall in love with you? Is my love for you not real?” that hurt you more than anything else he could have said, tears brimming your eyes, escaping from their confinement as they streak down your cheeks. 

“I’ve never used my magic on you,” you admit, voice thick with salty tears “my love for you is real, as yours is. I never tampered with your heart, it’s not who I am” bottom lip jutted out and trembling, feeling on the teetering edge of the end.

“I don’t know who you are” a stab to the heart would have hurt less. “You’ve been lying to me for the past year about who you are. No wonder I was so in love with you, you made me fall in love with a person that doesn’t exist, you spelled me!” he’s trembling, you can see it in the way that his fists are balled up– something he does to stabilize himself whenever he’s upset. 

And now he’s upset because of you. 

“Eddie–” you take a step forward, he takes a step back. 

“No. Don’t- don’t come closer.” tears well at the bottom of your lash line, as you watch him turn away, leave and close the door behind him. Words trapped at the bottom of your throat. Words you’ll never get to say again. 

You’re not sure how long you stand there, staring at the doorknob, hoping that it might turn, revealing Eddie once again, ready for you to explain everything to him. 

But the doorknob doesn’t turn, the door doesn’t open, and Eddie doesn’t come back. 

You refuse to sweep the rubble from the last time he was in your apartment, hoping that the smell of him stuck to the cold stone, but there’s nothing left of him in your space. 

The thing about love witches is that when the thing most precious to them, their hearts, break,  the life force of their power fades. 

So within a short span of days, you notice yourself being weakened. Simple spells become a hard feat, as you can barely make things levitate, sitting in the darkness of your room. 

Days begin to merge into themselves, as you get yourself to work, then home, then work, then home. A repeating cycle you don’t intend to stop. You leave around the back side of the store, to not let Eddie see you while he’s on his smoke break, blending into the crowded streets of what once seemed like the best place in the world.

Your aunt Hilda doesn’t hear from you, and neither does anyone else. You fall off the face of the earth, hoping that your hours never coincide with Eddie’s. 

But you can feel it from next door, the pain and hurt that radiates from the record store. You feel it in the way he speaks to customers, in the way he sighs as he gets off his smoke break. 

You hear him ask Janice about you, she tells him that she doesn’t know, that she hasn’t seen you in a while. Respecting your wishes to let him live his life in peace. 

But he wasn’t living his life in peace. In fact, Eddie was miserable. 

He was miserable in the way that everything reminded him of you, in the way that if he stepped too close to your store (to make sure you were working that day), he’d smell the rose incense you’d light at your house. The one he would smell on your clothes. 

The crystals that sat on his windowsill were now tightly packed and shoved away on a far up shelf that he would not be reminded of you. He burned every trace of you, the taste of betrayal bitter in his throat as he sat on his couch every night, always on the left side, because you sat on the right. A place for you was always carved in his mind, whether it was unconscious or intentional. 

 The smell of your shampoo lingers in the pink bottles in his shower, in the silk pillow you always slept on when you went over to his house. A silk shirt you left on his bed, gingerly placed on his pillow as he lets your smell engulf him. That’s the only way he can sleep. 

There’s a fear deeply setting in, that he might just never be able to get over you. Despite the lies and the secrets, he will never be able to not think about you, not when the smell of rose incense or the color pink exist, not when long skirts and crystals and tarot cards and brocade rugs exist. Not when you exist. Not when you keep walking the earth, sadness seeping in every crevice and every crack of his walls.

He knows he can’t go on like this. Not while you roam the same streets he roams, waiting for you to turn around. Look at me, witchy, look at me. 

And you’re so sad. He can see it in your eyes, in the way you don’t carry yourself like you used to– shoulders slouched, dressed in black like you’re mourning the loss of your heart. Mourning the loss of your love.

He debates going back to Hawkins for a bit. Going back to live with his uncle– leave this new world behind, just until the air has been purified of you. Until he’s no longer thinking about the witchy girl who haunts his dreams at night. Go work where his friend Steve works at, shitty, dead- end job, just for a bit. 

Confine himself to the life of a hermit, just so he can allow you to live in peace. 

So he goes back to Hawkins, under the guise of going home for the holidays. He picks up whatever jobs his uncle can’t do anymore because of his age, driving the beat up yellow pick- up truck in and out of town. 

“I never thought I’d see the day Munson would come crawling back” he’d hear a couple of people say on the street. He’s never gone unnoticed, but now more so than before– integrated in the San Francisco scene, he did anything but blend in. And he swears he sees you a few times, walking around downtown Hawkins, your hair, your clothes, your bag. Prancing around like your life is back to normal. 

Could it have been a spell? Did you spell him to not make him forget about you? 

But he knows it isn’t like you. Not malicious, not even as a witch, he assumes. 

He keeps himself up at night thinking about you. You’d never use magic on him. With a sound mind, he tells himself that’s true. Your love for him is real. Is his love for you real? Shivering in the freezing temperature of his uncle’s trailer he’d ponder whether what you had was real or not. 

Real.

He drives himself crazy, the thought of you plaguing his mind. 

Even his uncle grows worried, the purple bags under his nephew’s eyes, all the books on witchcraft Eddie could find at the Hawkins local library sitting on his desk. Staying up to read on anything and everything that could help him.

And when that doesn’t work he goes on his uncle’s shitty wifi he never uses to research anything about witches, about magic, about you.

You don’t sense him anymore. Not through the walls, not in his sardonic laugh. It’s like he’d vanished into thin air. 

You find yourself stepping into the record store after a shift, asking his shitty coworkers what happened to Eddie. 

And you’re so weak. So tired, it is even a feat to be able to make it through one full shift standing up, finding a stool to sit on. You’ve paled, eyes dark and lifeless. 

“He’s gone back home for the holidays” one of the assholes who made fun of you says “left you stranded here all by yourself? Or did he kick you to the curb?” he smirks, and the other idiot laughs. You make a mental note to hex them for good next time. 

If you don’t die first. 

Eddie comes back to San Francisco after the holidays, and it’s like he’s never left. 

Union Square has taken off the tree and the ice skating rink– he wanted to take you there. He thought you’d be good at ice skating. You’re good at everything. Or maybe it’s because you’re magic. 

The restaurant you went to on your first date has closed down. There’s a smile creeping on his face as he remembers you laughing because he couldn’t eat with chopsticks. He misses hearing you laugh. He misses seeing you smile. 

The tiny twinkle, the stars in your eyes. The way he’d braid your hair at night. Petting Circe, nestled in between you two in your bed. 

He sees you for the first time since he’s been back on the porch of your shop. His heart shrinks at the sight of you. Eyes sunken in, buried in layers and layers of woolen fabric, staring blankly at the street in front of you. 

The thing about love witches is that when the thing most precious to them, their hearts, break,  the life force of their power fades. 

He remembers reading that in an old looking book during the holidays. He wrote it down in his notebook. 

A love witch. Thrives on being loved and being in love.  

Her heart is only safe when her love is true and unfettered. 

He sees it now.

He shows up to your house after talking himself into it for a week, with the excuse of returning a shirt. The same silk  shirt he’d been sleeping on top of since he left you. He had it washed for you. It doesn’t smell like you anymore.

He knocks. Is it him or are his hands always that sweaty? Is his heart beating at a normal pace? Is his hair okay? And his breath? Oh shit, he has a zit on his chin.

“Go away Aunt Hilda!” he hears you say, grumpy and grouchy. The veiled sadness in your voice creates a rift between him and the door. 

So he knocks. Again. And Again. 

“Aunt Hilda I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, I don’t want– Eddie” A breath gets trapped in your diaphragm, feeling your heart start picking up its pace for the first time in what felt like weeks. 

“Hi” he gives you a tight smile, the silk balled up in a fist, purple with little black swirls on it. 

“Hi, um, I– what are you doing here? Do you wanna come in?” you slither like a worm, that’s how you feel. The boy you’ve been pining and crying and suffering for is here. Right in front of you. 

You look so much more frail than he’d remembered “I uh–” he holds up the fabric “you left this at my house” 

“Oh, thanks. That’s sweet of you” Your heart drops, you really thought he was going to make amends with you?

You extend your arm, so he can give the shirt to you. So he can be on his way and be gone forever. 

Hands, fingers, knuckles. He misses holding your hand. 

“I heard you went home for the holidays, how was that?” you lean on the doorframe, hands crossed on your chest. 

“It was good, I just spent it with my uncle. He told me to tell you happy new year, uh— even though we’re not—” he shouldn’t have said the last part, he sees you sink into yourself, gazing down at the hardwood floor. His stomach twists. 

“What did you do for the holidays?” he asks. He doesn’t want it to be over, not yet. 

“I just stayed in, I’ve been pretty sick lately, flu season in full swing. I’ve just been—”

“Your heart’s broken, isn’t it? That’s why you’ve been so sick?” your heart drops. How does he know all this? 

He reads your puzzled expression “I um— did some research. That’s what I did most of my holidays.  I just wanted to understand. I know you didn’t spell me, or whatever. You’re a love witch” he takes out a piece of paper, highlighted is a sentence, in light pink.

Her heart is only safe when her love is true and unfettered. 

Your head is reeling, he hasn’t stopped thinking about you. He spent his holidays researching you, your kind. He knows you didn’t lie to him. 

Tears begin to spill onto the old parchment, the tears you haven’t shed in the past two months resurfacing, as you violently jerk and sob in front of him. You missed him.

Eddie quickly steps into your apartment and closes the door, enveloping you in a hug. And it feels good for your heart, a soothing balm for all the cracks and wounds it’s suffered. 

“It’s okay, witchy, you can let it out” he says, as you continue to sob on his shoulder. Soft shushing sounds as he caresses your hair “Shhh…shhh… I’ve got you” and it’s like he’s never left. 

“I’m here now, I’m not leaving” his assurance makes your body feel whole again. He sits you both down on the couch. 

“Witchy, I didn’t stop thinking about you for a second. I would see you everywhere, I thought I was going crazy” he begins, and maybe he sees a twinkle in your eye, something weak, almost like a heartbeat being revived. 

“I thought going to Hawkins, just to distance myself would change things. But I’d keep myself awake thinking about you, all the time, wondering if you were doing okay.” His hand brushes yours, as you wipe your tears with the sleeve of your sweater. 

“I would see you at work, or out and about and you looked so sad. And I just couldn’t explain to myself what happened to you, until I came across that book” he finishes.

And in turn, you don’t say anything, you just kiss him. It’s wet and messy with the tears and the saliva, but he immediately kisses you back, cradling your face in his hand. Your heart beats faster than it has in a while, and it’s like magically, your skin has a bit more color to it. 

And Eddie sees the stars in your eyes again. 

When you detach you just lay your head on his chest. You listen for his heartbeat, lulling you into a deep sleep, the best sleep you’ve had in two months. He follows you not soon after, Circe on his lap, as he falls into slumber with a peaceful smile on his face. 

Once awoken from your sleep, you go make a cup of tea for the both of you.

“Witchy?” your head lifts at the nickname as you pour him his tea.

 “So, are you a witch, a mage or a sorceress?” 

You just roll your eyes and kiss him again. 

a word about my taglist- if you ask to be put on it, and went through the trouble of filling out the form, all i ask in return is that you interact with my stuff in a meaningful way. plain likes really don't get you anywhere on here, and i am asking you in the nicest possible way. tysm <3 taglist form here

taglist: @onegirlmanytales, @sunnythevampireslayer, @cryingglightningg, @yunirgo, @reidsbtch, @neville-is-my-husband, @minorlystuck13, @keikoraven, @capricornrisingsstuff, @lavendermunson, @mandyjo8719, @str4ngergirlw0rld, @xxhellfirebunnyxx, @hellfirenacht, @seexyyprincess, @goosterroose, @euphoric-rush, @everheart12, @witchwolflea @corrodedcoffincumslut, @aaasbrutus, @stqrgirl3 @starrthemushroom, @lemme-slytherin-that-dick, @fictionalsimping, @tpwkkami11, @1paire2vans @xquinn-bartonx, @bimbobaggins69, @aphrogeneias, @jamdoughnutmagician, @reysorigins, @strangereads, @strangerstilinski, @upsidedownbunnyy, @eddiesxangel, @hideoutside, @ali-r3n,

[blingblong55]

Healing -Vladimir Makarov

A/N: this is not me telling you how reader looks^

Based on a request:

i love love LOVE the great war. i’m foaming at the mouth for a part 2 BUT can you maybe do something with vlad and his love taking a bath while he reads her poetry or something along the lines. again love your work you truly are amazing 🌷

---- F!Reader, fluff/romance, wife!reader, husband!Makarov, poetry read, pregnant!reader ----

It's been a long day, Vladimir and you haven't seen each other since you left bed. And now, as you walk inside your home, he greets you with a warm meal. "Ah, the girl I have been waiting for." He walks to you, wrapping you in his hold. "What's all this about?" you ask curiously. His hand on your belly, "I think my sweet wife deserves a treat, after all, you did some hard work today." He teases. "Shopping is a sport," you kiss his cheek and he guides you to the warm kitchen. For months since he found out he would become a father, he gave you a credit card, 'spend it on you and our little one.' he said and every day, he sends you out with at least two of his men to buy at least ten things.

He wanted this all to be a thank you, for turning his life around and giving him a new purpose and as you both eat a meal he so carefully cooked with love, he finds himself admiring you. You look up, insecure for some reason until he smiles. "Did you know you are the kind of woman men write poems about?" He continues eating and you feel yourself blushing and a rush of happiness. One thing about your husband is that he knows what to say and how to make you feel, especially, now that you carry your first child.

You look at him, "What have you so….happy today?" He shrugs, "I have many reasons to be happy. I have you, my lovely wife, today all went well, we have a son arriving in a few months and did I mention I have a lovely, beautiful, small and incredibly amazing wife?" You smile and look away. "I mean it, love. I seriously thank you for being part of my life so please just accept all my love because trust me, pretty girl, no one else can get this."

After that much-needed meal, he offers a bath. And as he warms the water for you both, he watches mesmerised as you undress in front of him. Your beautiful body is all for his gaze to admire. For some reason, Vladimir couldn't help but feel a gush of emotions, all good ones of course. The way the room lit up, showcasing all your beautiful features and there was him, watching a goddess undress. It was like a schoolboy, the feeling he had, blushing and looking away from how excited you made him. To others, it's nothing to see your beloved undress anymore but to him, this was a privilege.

They always portray men like him as heartless men with no soul behind their evil loving gaze but if you look closely, there it is, the warm fire that still shines through. "Get in the tub, my love," his voice was always so soft with you. It was comedic how it changed when he spoke to those who aren't you. He was always so cold to others but when he turned to you, gave you one glance or one word, his voice was pure and soft. His hand holding yours as you get in. Hold it until you sit down in the tub. The second he let go, as he walked to the counter of the bathroom, his hand flexed. He was anxious in many ways and for good reason since you had changed the man he was before.

In his hands was the old book of poems he collected of his favourite poets or wrote himself. The book was old, but the words inside were worth more than anything in the world. As he sat down, he could feel the warmth of your back to his chest. You laid against him, finding comfort in his embrace and in some romantic way, this was professing love with unspoken words. His free hand playing with your hair as he holds the book of poems. "Let's see my love, what poem shall I read you today?"

You point towards one. "First Love by John Clare," the title wrote. "Very well, my love." he kisses your head and begins. "I ne’er was struck before that hour With love so sudden and so sweet, Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower And stole my heart away complete. My face turned pale as deadly pale, My legs refused to walk away, And when she looked, what could I ail? My life and all seemed turned to clay.

And then my blood rushed to my face And took my eyesight quite away, The trees and bushes round the place Seemed midnight at noonday. I could not see a single thing, Words from my eyes did start— They spoke as chords do from the string, And blood burnt round my heart.

Are flowers the winter’s choice? Is love’s bed always snow? She seemed to hear my silent voice, Not love's appeals to know. I never saw so sweet a face As that I stood before. My heart has left its dwelling-place And can return no more."

His voice throughout the poem so steady, and clean and expresses the same emotion the poem itself meant to convey. He places the book on the small shelf by the tub, his arms wrapping you in a loving embrace. "Did you like it?" Vladimir's head resting on your shoulder as his hands caress your belly. "Mhm…I loved this one." your voice was soft as you began to relax with him. "Good, my love," he whispers before kissing your shoulder, one of his hands so delicately lifting your hair as the other writes on your back.

"I- L-O-V-E- Y-O-U" his fingertips spell out. You try and figure out what the message was but before you begin to think, you feel his soft and warm lips kiss the back of your neck. To him, this was the most beautiful thing lovers could do that also meant intimacy. Sitting in a tub, looking out a window that brings light to the bathroom, reading poetry and then doing something like this, kissing your neck with nothing but love, rubbing the same belly that carries his child. And then you got it, "I love you too, Vlad," you lean back, your head turning and your lips meeting his.

It was as if no other worry could bother either of you. Being here, that is what counts and in the darkest corner of his heart, he feels all those old wounds and worries heal. This is real, this moment in time, that is what feels so unreal to those who can't have this privilege but to both of you, this is real, it's love to its simplicity.

Tags:

@goldenmclaren @liyanahelena @selarus @kielsegur @mseccentricks @johfaam0 @moonsua1 @rvivienner @frazie99 @viomast @vampsquerade @saoirse06 @alxexhearts @baldwinhearts @strangepuppynightmare

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 2 <<Part 1

-You are sitting on a bench in the lakeside park, reading a book and enjoying the bright winter sunshine when a cold nose presses into your hand. You look up to find a blue pitbull nuzzling you for pets. “Oh hi there, baby,” you coo, scratching his broad head without a thought. You follow the leash to the owner, and are very surprised to see Mr. Wick standing there, looking endearingly embarrassed about it all. “Sorry,” he says. “He pulled me over here.” He gives the dog a look as it leans against you, getting side scritches with a blissed-out doggo look. You have a notion that Mr. Wick might be jealous, somehow, but you push it away.

“That’s ok. What a good boy. What’s his name?”

“Um…Dog.”

You smirk up at him. “Original.”

He sighs, looking at you through his hair, and it pulls at your heartstrings for some reason. You pat the bench beside you, and he accepts, though he sits as far away as he can. “He likes you,” he says, looking ruefully down at the dog. “Do you have pets?”

“No,” you admit. “I travel too much.”

“Yeah?”

You can tell he’s surprised to hear this. Most people are. But you live frugally on your barista’s salary so you can go abroad for a month or so. You’re a budget traveler for sure, but you’ve been all over the world.

“Yes. I’m going to Italy this summer.”

“Sounds nice.”

“You’ve been?”

“Several times. For work.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m retired.” He doesn’t elaborate, and you leave it for now. You don’t really talk anymore, just look at the lake, and pet his dog who leans all his solid weight against your leg. You are content in the companionable silence.

You think he is too.

- It’s interesting sometimes, watching the interpersonal pageants of the regulars. When thrice divorced Victoria Fraser-Sims lays eyes on Mr. Wick for the first time in what you have come to consider his corner, she starts coming in for a lot more no-fat double-shot sugar-free vanilla lattés. All the locals are quite…aware…of Vicky’s predatory habits. A part of you wonders if you should warn Mr. Wick, but you reckon a single man who looks like him is quite used to fending off hungry cougars.

She starts by sitting near his table in her tight workout clothes, ostensibly bending over to pick up repeatedly dropped objects, affording various views of her generous cleavage and spin-class toned rear end. You know you have no right to feel so pleased that Mr. Wick seems to ignore her.

But then she ups her game, so bold as to sit down at his table with him to chat. He talks to her politely. One day, she actually succeeds in making him laugh. You hear it, loosed like an arrow that strikes you from across the room.

You have zero right to be jealous, of course, but you can’t help it. You and Mr. Wick have a thing.

Maybe just in your own head, but still.

But maybe they would be a good couple, you reason sadly, making yourself think realistically. Closer to the same age. And he does seem so lonely.

A few days later they come in the door together, seeming content, and your heart plummets to your feet. Holy shit, she actually pulled it off. They’re dating, you’re perfectly convinced.

In that moment you decide to back off. Mr. Wick is at least twenty years your elder. What the fuck would he want with an awkward little gremlin like you? It’s amazing sometimes, how well you can delude yourself. A curse of having a vivid imagination, perhaps. He’s just polite, and you are kind to him, because he seems a little broken. You resolve to behave. No more quips. No more teasing. From this day forward it shall be only, Here’s your coffee, yes sir, have a good day.

You’ve never been terribly good at keeping resolutions, but you’re going to try.

-Your determination to leave Mr. Wick alone is timed conveniently with a new hire who is around your age. He is and cute, and you get on immediately. Your flirting is fairly harmless, though you know the shop is filled with loud laughter from the two of you when your shifts coincide. Sometimes you feel Mr. Wick looking over at you after you’ve had a good chortle, and you sense he is annoyed.

Once, you catch him glaring at Brian’s back like he might like to carve the boy’s liver.

You try to quiet down, but it never really lasts. It’s been a while, since you’ve met someone who you click with so well. A comrade makes working in the service industry slightly more endurable, after all.

-One day, you burn yourself on the steamer wand while Mr. Wick is waiting for his order. Maybe it’s the volume of the unladylike expletive that spills from your lips, but he does not hesitate to come around the counter to check on you. It hurts like a motherfucker, and while you blink back tears you are quick to dig out ice to put on it. He even more quickly bats it into the sink, flipping the faucet on. “Cold water is better.”

Before you know it he is guiding your wrist into the stream with a gentle but exacting grip. “Hold that there,” he instructs. You can’t fathom disobeying him.

Brian stares rather dumbfoundedly at the customer behind the counter. “Um…sir? You can’t be back here.”

 “Then get her the first aid kit instead of standing there looking useless,” he snaps, and the young man jumps into action, scurrying away.

John gives a low whistle once you’ve finished with the cold water, blotting you dry at the butt end of the counter. “You got yourself good.”

“It’s not the first time,” you sigh. You’re not particularly clumsy, but it happens when you’re juggling five things at once to keep the drink orders moving.

John bandages the burn for you, frowning at the salve provided in the first aid kit that expired years ago, but deciding it will do in a pinch. His long-fingered hands are precise, but gentle, and as he touches you, you feel your brain turn to mush. You can’t remember the last time someone took care of you like this.

Maybe he’s not mad at you after all.

Later that day you appear from the back, to find a little paper pharmacy bag on the counter with your name written in concise black print. Inside there is more ointment, large Band-aids, and a little Snickers chocolate bar.

How did he know it’s your favorite?

Even though you didn’t see him come or go, you know it was Mr. Wick, and this small gesture touches you to tips of your toes.

[neuroticbookworm]

Love in the Big City Part 2: Go Yeong and Umma

I was chased around, threatened, bullied and emotionally manipulated for months to write this piece, so @lurkingshan, this one's for you. *please release my family*

When I was reading the book, in Part 1, I remember being frustrated with Young as a narrator because of how standoffish he seemed with his descriptions of the people in his life (except Jaehee – Mi Ae in the show). I wanted to understand the emotional distance I felt in his words. And I got my answer in Part 2, where the relationship with his Umma was laid bare for us to see. The structure of this section was so smart, for it established the roots of his behavior in his childhood with Umma, and linked it to how it shaped the relationship he currently had with Hyung. Seeing it come to life on screen in the episodes this week was a treat to watch.

It becomes evident that Go Yeong’s relationship with his Umma is complicated as soon as we see them interact on screen. She is steadfastly religious, someone who believes that miracles can cure things that humans sometimes deem incurable, like cancer. We could easily infer from what we’ve seen of Go Yeong so far that she would not approve of his life.

Before I get into how her opinions and actions affect and influence Go Yeong, I wanna fully break down some of the objective facts we know about her:

She divorced her husband after he stepped out of their marriage and didn’t even have the courage to tell her about his infidelity

She is a single mother

She is an entrepreneur (in fact, we see her working from her bed in the hospital in multiple scenes)

She is religious and believes in the power of God

She is proud of her son

She loves her son

The last two points come with the biggest asterisks, because if she loves and feels pride for her son, how could she make him feel so alone? And now I shall try to explore this woman’s psyche to the best of my abilities, with a little bit of help from my personal experiences and therapy sessions I’ve paid money for over the years.

When we try to picture a homophobic parent, the image that our brain usually conjures up is often one-dimensional. (Note: This is NOT AN EXCUSE. I’m not trying to justify her actions. I am simply trying to understand why she did the things she did, by placing the context of the events of her life around them.) It is easier to process our emotions re: bad parents who hurt their children when we view their actions as simple. “They could’ve chosen not to do it and yet they did, so I hate them” is the conclusion that is the easiest to arrive at. That doesn’t make it untrue, but oftentimes, it is not the whole truth. Life is rarely, if ever, that simple, and our parents can truly love us while also rejecting fundamental parts of who we are, and never reconcile the two.

We see in the show the circumstances under which Yeom Eun Suk (Umma) finds out about her husband’s affair. She and little Go Yeong observe him from the sidelines, hidden, and see him smile like he had never done in all the time he had spent with them. We see Eun Suk feeling crushed by the implication that whatever love and happiness she thought she had had in her life with her husband was all potentially a farce. The fact that she chose to separate from him implies a couple of things: 1. She had strength and resourcefulness to provide for her son as a single mother in a restrictive patriarchal society like South Korea, and 2. She understood that staying in the unhappy marriage would only make her bitter and would affect her son more negatively than him growing up with a single parent.

She was brave enough to make those choices, and yet was still bound by her sense of propriety molded by society, and her faith. I’ve had a dynamic relationship with faith throughout my life, but I understood pretty quickly that questioning one’s faith is a particularly painful experience. Faith is supposed to be the solace one could turn to during trying times. When one is forced by circumstance to question their faith, it leaves them unmoored on the inside and further isolated on the outside. Eun Suk was already isolated to a certain degree by her divorce and her single motherhood. From what we learned in the book, there’s a history of cancer diagnoses in her family, so I would posit that she had been in Go Yeong’s shoes before, caring for her terminally ill parents in the past. Which is additional trauma from caregiving in her young adulthood that would’ve shaped her life. So I understand Eun Suk not questioning her faith when it was shaken.

She rebuilt her life and community by pursuing her faith—attending church, making friends who shared those values, and idolizing the Christian heteronormative lifestyle even after it failed her. She followed the rules dictated by her faith and community with utmost devotion, including building an entire business around heteronormative romance, in part because she had already transgressed by breaking up her own family and needed to prove she was not bucking that ideal or rejecting the church’s teachings with her choices. We see her take care of her appearance over and over when she is in the hospital after her first diagnosis and surgery, and it is yet another sign of her conformity and dedication to presenting a certain picture of her life. I understand why she would see her teenage son kissing a boy as a blemish on “a life deemed beautiful by God” and panic. I understand why she would think a psychiatric facility would help her son, and that it was her duty to try. (Note: once again, I am not justifying her actions, I am trying to understand them. Conversion therapy is deplorable and my heart goes out to everyone who has been subjected to it, including Go Yeong.) Eun Suk’s faith saved her by giving her purpose and community after her husband’s betrayal, but it also told her that her son, in his queerness, is fundamentally flawed. And like most people in this world, she chose not to rethink her entire life, and instead chose to believe that it is her duty to save her son from homosexuality and guide him to righteousness via the same path that saved her own life, ultimately traumatizing him. Hello, intergenerational trauma, my old friend!

@lurkingshan has already discussed the kdrama-fication of Part 2, with the increased intensity of Go Yeong’s romance with Hyung/Yeong Su. Expanding on that, I think the show’s depiction of Go Yeong’s relationship with his Umma rounded out the sharp edges of Young’s cynical tone from the book. We see her enjoy spending time with him. We see her joke around with him. We see her read her child with uncanny precision that mothers seem to have when she asked him “Why are you sulking like a child?”, when he was, in fact, sulking like a child. We see her observe and deduce that her son is probably seeing someone, and that someone is likely a man. Which then leads to her asking “Must I meet them?” when Go Yeong suggests a meeting with Yeong Su in the park. She runs from direct confrontation of her son’s sexuality, and yet diligently copies Bible verses, hoping for a miracle.

Eun Suk sees her son’s queerness as her own failure, and Go Yeong, in turn, sees his righteous anger towards his Umma, as his. She is so proud of him that she saves newspaper clippings of his achievements, but she is also ashamed that she couldn’t “save” him. She loves him within the confines of her faith. It’s not enough for Go Yeong, but it’s the best she can do; their relationship remains at an impossible impasse.

Yeong Su’s presence in this section is interesting because in addition to his primary role of serving as the broody, tortured creative who swept Go Yeong up in a whirlwind romance, he also serves as a parallel to Umma’s traits. When Yeong Su exclaims that “someone like [Go Yeong] couldn’t even imagine [his struggles]”, it rang eerily close to Umma telling her son “Don’t try too hard. Everyone must go sometimes”. The expression of disdain is the same, but in Yeong Su it reads hollow, as a pretentious assumption, while with Umma it registers as tired disappointment that Go Yeong would’ve surely felt as heavy as a boulder.

After finishing the book, I found myself going back to a particular paragraph:

...[I] was old enough to know that my mother did not exist solely to hinder my existence but was a person in her own right who had fought hard making her way through life. She just happened to be unlucky. In other words, the fact that our relationship had been so terrible was as natural as cancer or fungus or the rotation of our planet or sunspots. I knew this, but the feeling that she was the source of all my problems kept nagging at me. I kicked myself for thinking this about a dying person, someone who was only skin and bones at this point, but the thought refused to leave my mind.

It took me a long time to reach the acceptance Sang Young Park has put in words here. The fact that my trauma is an unfortunate byproduct of the life my parents had lived, and was not premeditated or fuelled by hate, was a hard and unfair pill to swallow. I want to grab Go Yeong and tell him that it is okay if he can’t ever forgive his Umma. Time will wash over his hurt and let him love her, even without the apology he deserves from his Umma. And I hope that, one day, he can learn to love the people in his life differently than the love he received from his mother.

[shadowtriovibes]

somewhere outside my life, babe

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x f!MC x Sebastian Sallow

Rating: M

Word Count: 3K

Summary: five times ominis gaunt was lovesick for the both of you (and the one time he finally figured it out)

Regardless, in many ways, Sebastian was his first “love,” if a young man such as himself could freely admit to such a thing. Perhaps that’s why he ultimately sighs and tells Sebastian that if it really means that much to him, of course he can take you to the ball. Sebastian nearly crushes him in the vice grip of his appreciative hug.

1: the yule ball

Late one night in the Slytherin common room, Sebastian eagerly fidgets with the single gold Galleon that rests in the palm of his hand.

“Shall we let fate decide?” he offers. “I’ll flip a Galleon, and if it lands on the dragon, I’ll ask her. If it lands on the wizard, you’ll ask her.”

Ominis folds his arms skeptically, sitting back in his armchair. “How do I know you won’t cheat and say it’s the dragon no matter what?”

“Fine, I’ll let you feel it when I catch it,” Sebastian says impatiently. “Go on, then, how else do you suggest we decide?”

The Yule Ball is less than a month away, yet nearly all the witches in your year have already excitedly ordered their gowns from the bespoke clothing shops in Diagon Alley – some even as far away as Paris. You’ve been quietly planning to visit Mister Hill in Hogsmeade to see about a dress for yourself, if only your thickheaded friends would sort out who precisely will be your date for the evening.

Both had eagerly volunteered, of course; you’d asked them to decide amongst themselves, so as to not get in the way of their friendship. A week later, Sebastian and Ominis are no closer to a decision.

Reluctantly, Ominis quietly agrees to the coinflip and listens to the gentle click of Sebastian’s thumbnail against the Galleon as he arcs it into the air. Rather than catching it neatly in his hand, Sebastian misses as the coin veers off course and tumbles to the floor, bouncing away to the corner of the room and under a bookshelf.

Sebastian curses under his breath. “Right, well… I swear, I’m usually more coordinated than that.”

“There’s no need to lie to me, Sebastian,” Ominis jokes. “I’ve known you for many years.”

The two sit in awkward silence for several long moments. While Sebastian mindlessly fidgets with his robes, Ominis finds himself revisiting the night his best friend in the world had confessed his feelings for you, the very girl for whom he himself has become thoroughly, pathetically lovesick.

“She’s just… brilliant, isn’t she?” he’d half-whispered from his bed late one night. “She’s endlessly clever, and strong, and so, so beautiful. Ominis, I really wish you could see her sometimes – she’s breathtaking.”

Ominis had thought to himself that he hardly needed to see you in order for his breath to be taken away.

Regardless, in many ways, Sebastian was his first “love,” if a young man such as himself could freely admit to such a thing. Perhaps that’s why he ultimately sighs and tells Sebastian that if it really means that much to him, of course he can take you to the ball.

Sebastian nearly crushes him in the vice grip of his appreciative hug.

Even though Ominis eventually joins you both at the ball as a reluctant third wheel – and dances with plenty of lovely girls who find him quite dashing in his tailored dress robes, mind you – he wishes he’d had the chance to take you properly himself. It’s not the first time he’d sabotaged his own happiness, nor will it be the last, but it’s probably the instance he regrets the most.

2: the first date

Shortly after the ball, Sebastian excitedly tells Ominis he’s asked you on a date.

“A real one this time, a proper one,” he insists. “ I think we’ll just pop down to Hogsmeade for some Butterbeer, which isn’t that exciting, but at least it’s a real date.”

Ominis says nothing as he presses his fingers more firmly into the pages of the book he’s reading.

“Er, Ominis?” Sebastian asks, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Would you like to join us?”

His hand halts abruptly. “What?”

“I was wondering – we both were, actually – if you’d like to come to the pub,” Sebastian offers once more. “It won’t be the same without you.”

Then I suppose you should have thought of that before asking her on a date, Ominis thinks bitterly. The audacity of Sebastian to suggest he’ll be missed while he woos you is nearly enough to provoke his temper; instead, he takes a long, deep breath before answering.

“I’m not sure that would be appropriate,” he says, purposefully leaning into the propriety of his posh tongue. “As a gentleman, I’ll respectfully pass.”

Sebastian opens his mouth as if to try to talk Ominis into reconsidering, but he remains silent, and Ominis remains ignorant of his heartsick expression.

You make a second attempt to convince him to join you when you come downstairs.

“Won’t you please come?” you ask softly as you tuck your hair into your scarf. “I know this is… different, but our friendship is what’s most important in all this, and–”

“Our friendship will be perfectly fine,” Ominis says curtly. “As it happens I have plans to study with Violet and Nerida this evening, but I hope the two of you have a lovely time.”

He closes his book a bit harder than is strictly necessary and storms off, leaving Sebastian to gently reach for your hand and murmur, “He’ll come around eventually, you’ll see.”

You aren’t as sure.

By the end of the school year, you and Sebastian have begun quite a serious courtship. Despite his very best attempts to retreat into his schoolwork, the two of you coax Ominis into warming to your relationship just enough to restore your friendship.

Months go by just like that, and eventually, the fiery jealousy that settles in Ominis’ stomach whenever he hears the two of you snogging settles into a dull ache that he can mostly ignore.

3: the engagement

Even in the soft, low light of the Leaky Cauldron, the emerald on your ring finger sparkles brilliantly. The singular flickering candle that rests on the table before you can’t possibly be enough to make it gleam like that, but nevertheless it shines.

Though Ominis can’t see for himself your new glimmering accessory, you’d gleefully taken his hand in yours as soon as he’d arrived and traced his fingertips over the petite stone. He’d nearly forgotten to breathe as you’d told him how Sebastian had proposed marriage on the shoreline near Feldcroft over a lovely picnic lunch.

He needn’t be surprised, he thinks. It’s been three years since the three of you finished school at Hogwarts and took up an apartment in London near the Ministry, and while Ominis can’t specifically recall the two of you discussing marriage, he admits that it felt sickeningly inevitable after a while. When Sebastian had announced that the two of you were taking a brief weekend trip back to Scotland to visit Anne, he should have suspected something like this could happen.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” he manages to force out.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” you sigh dreamily. “Oh, Ominis, I can hardly believe it!”

Sebastian smiles proudly and rests his arm across your shoulders. With his other hand, he gently lifts your hand to his lips so he can press a soft kiss against the cool, green gem with which he’d asked for your hand.

“It’s not nearly as big as you deserve,” he begrudges. “But it’s the best I could on a Ministry salary.”

“Nonsense, it’s perfect,” you insist, unable to resist smiling to yourself as you tilt your hand this way and that, watching how it catches the light and even seems to glow from within.

Ominis’ stomach twists enviously as he allows himself a moment to fantasize about the ring he could have given you. An offensively huge diamond to start, and then perhaps several emeralds surrounding it in an ostentatious cluster, as if to prove that his monstrous family’s monstrous wealth could be used to bejewel something – someone – so stunning.

(Maybe you’d like a moonstone ring, he wonders, if you were his; you’d once said that his eyes remind you of moonstones, and he’s never forgotten.)

“Perhaps someday we’ll upgrade it,” Sebastian says, glancing sidelong at Ominis. “Or add a second one alongside it.”

“I suppose you’ll have to,” Ominis mumbles, pausing to take a long drink of his elderflower wine while the two of you exchange a hopeful glance.

Finally, he concludes, “At the wedding, hmm? The second band?”

“Right,” you sigh, pursing your lips and rolling your eyes fondly at Sebastian. “At the wedding.”

4: the honeymoon

For a full week, Ominis lays awake at night trying desperately to fall asleep to no avail.

He’s lived with the two of you as a couple for four years now, and it’s hardly the first time he’s heard you being intimate with each other. He’s found ways to cope after all this time – most of which involve leaving the apartment and going down to the pub around the corner until he’s sure you’re finished.

(Sometimes, usually when he’s already been to the pub that evening, he copes by pretending he’s not listening even though he leaves his bedroom door open just a crack. Only under Veritaserum would he admit that on those nights, when filthy noises drift down the hallway between your rooms, he touches himself and imagines joining you both.)

But here on this warm, secluded island off the coast of Spain, there’s no pub to which Ominis can simply disappear and scowl into his drink for an hour or two. He’s held hostage by the utterly maddening sounds of Sebastian eagerly pleasuring you in the next room over, and he wonders for the umpteenth time why he ever agreed to join you on this cursed trip.

“Come with us, won’t you?” you’d begged every day for a full week. “Ominis, you haven’t had a vacation in years! You must come, please.”

There had been promises of endless bottles of Spanish wine, afternoons spent lounging on the beach, and lovely walks through the foothills near the friendly Muggle towns. What had not been discussed was the nighttime routine, which always began with the two of you making a tipsy, not-so-subtle escape to your bedroom suite.

Now that he’s here, Ominis thinks, he can hardly ask the two of you not to be intimate with each other – it is your honeymoon trip, after all. But every night? For what seems like ages?

Surely this trip is going to be the death of him.

…If he didn’t know any better, he might think you’re trying to tempt him on purpose. To what end he couldn’t possibly imagine, but it seems as if you and Sebastian are almost trying to make sure that you’re overheard.

“Sebastian!” you wail through the walls. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

Ominis can only imagine how he’s undoing you. He’s uncharacteristically quiet; perhaps he has his mouth on you, taking you apart with his tongue while you cling to his messy, sun-lightened hair between your thighs.

Usually, when he’s not using his mouth on you, Sebastian’s just as loud. His low, desperate groans stir up heat in the pit of Ominis’ stomach, and the filth he talks… Ominis isn’t sure where he learned that kind of language, but he’s helpless to stop it echoing inside his head as he shamefully listens in.

Moments later, while Ominis tosses and turns fitfully as he resists the urge to shove his hand inside his pajamas, he hears Sebastian call out:

“That’s it, my love, be as loud as you can for me, you’re such a brilliant little temptress.”

Ominis groans in frustration and throws a stray pillow to the floor; he’s now positive that you’re doing this on purpose.

Your wanton moans carry on and on until Ominis, desperate from exhaustion and heartache and frustration, buries his face in his pillow and shoves his hand beneath his bedcovers, hoping the two of you will never find out about this.

5: the first home

Ominis’ wedding gift to the two of you had been a charming seaside cottage in the Highlands, It’s close enough to Feldcroft to allow for Anne to visit yet tucked away in peaceful seclusion, which ought to be well suited for a pair of broody newlyweds…

Or so he’d thought.

“You’ll come live with us, of course,” Sebastian says easily when Ominis asks him why he’s begun to pack up the entirety of your shared London flat.

“But I work in the city,” Ominis points out dumbly, as if that’s the biggest problem with his dear friend’s assumption.

“So do we,” you say with a cheerful laugh. “There’s a Floo fireplace, remember? You’re the one who showed it to us!”

“B-but… But it’s your home,” Ominis stammers. “I – I intended it as a gift, for your family… as it grows.”

“You are our family, Ominis,” Sebastian says nonchalantly as he charms a pile of Ominis’ Braille books into a moving crate, so casually as if he hasn’t just wrought havoc on his humble heart.

“Besides, no one’s family is growing just yet,” you add teasingly. “There will be plenty of time for all that once we’ve sorted out the house and… well, once we’ve sorted everything out.”

Ominis reddens while unbeknownst to him, you and Sebastian share a significant look.

“W-well, how am I supposed to meet anyone if I move out to the seaside?” Ominis demands. “I’ll have you know I don’t intend on remaining a bachelor forever, despite how much it might please you both.”

You and Sebastian both fall silent. Immediately Ominis regrets his words, regardless of how true they are. He’s dated occasionally, even met a lovely witch who works at Gringotts that he’d considered courting, but every time he introduced a “new friend” to his dearest roommates, none of the lot ever seemed to pass muster.

“I… I shouldn’t have said that,” Ominis murmurs. “I apologize.”

“No, you’re right,” Sebastian says quietly. “We should be the ones apologizing.”

“Ominis,” you whisper, and in a heartbeat Ominis knows he’d follow the two of you wherever you went, even at the expense of his own love life.

“Honestly, we’re truly sorry,” you tell him, taking his hands in yours. “Our selfishness has gone on for so long, and – and there’s so much more I want to say, but–”

“All’s forgiven, darling,” Ominis says faux-cheerfully, cracking a rare smile. “After all, you said it best – there will be plenty of time for all that once we’ve sorted out the house, hmm? Shall we pack my clothes?”

You press a lingering kiss to his cheek and thank him. Ominis feels not unlike a slowly sinking ship, as though the water around him is as intoxicatingly warm as a murlap bath.

+1. the confession

Ominis is perfectly made for seaside living, much to his surprise.

Each morning, he joins the two of you for breakfast in your cozy cottage kitchen. The three of you then join hands as you travel by Floo into the city, where upon arriving Ominis will insist on being brushed clean of any stray Floo powder before joining the throng of Londoners pushing through the city.

Each evening, you dine together and luxuriate in each others’ company by the fireplace, reading books and pressing herbs and making grand plans for your next great adventure, always just the three of you.

Weekends bring brisk morning walks by the beach and afternoon picnics, trips to Anne’s cottage and shopping in Diagon Alley. It’s a lovely little life – companionable, and good, and it doesn’t even matter to Ominis that he’s not in love.

At least not in the traditional sense.

In truth, Ominis has been deeply in love for a very long time: once since he was fourteen years old, with his first real friend, again when he was sixteen, with his second. He thinks his damned heart will probably always belong to them, though he couldn’t ask for a better pair to care for it.

So, perhaps he’s in love, but not loved.

…Except that indeed he is, and when he realizes it, it’s as if he’s finally sunk deep down into that warm water that’s been lulling him in like a siren’s song for nearly half a decade.

He sees love in how you tenderly stroke his hair when he rests his head in your lap after a long day at work. He sees love in how Sebastian loops his arm through his own when he joins Ominis for a walk along the beach, peacefully narrating the journey with a smile so wide Ominis can hear it in his voice.He sees love in how the both of you spin him around each morning and brush your hands over his cloak to rid him of that infernal powder.

He’s loved; he’s so loved.

No milestone marks the day Ominis’ world widens. No first date, no grand ball, no ornate moonstone ring (though you did eventually get one, and it barely puts a dent in the Gaunt family fortune).

Instead, two simply becomes three.

One evening, Ominis presses a gentle kiss to your lips, and then to Sebastian’s. There’d been no conversation; there’d been no need. Sebastian holds him in his arms while you pour every drop of love you’d held aside for him against his mouth; your husband works bruises Ominis will never see into his pale neck that seem to spell out ours, ours, finally ours.

“Always only yours,” Ominis gasps. “Yours, and yours.”

He joins your bed that night, leaving behind a trail of clothes dotted with whispered confessions of just how many times he’s imagined being taken apart by you both. He’s learned, pleasured, devoured in ways he’s never allowed himself to indulge in, even in his fantasies. Sebastian’s touch, your lips, his lewd words, your taste…

Afterward, tears shed for so many years wasted threaten to stain the bedsheets, but Sebastian wordlessly wipes them from Ominis’ cheeks.

“You understand now,” you whisper against the hollow of his throat. “We love you, Ominis.”

“I do,” he finally breathes. “I understand.”

“So brilliant and so oblivious,” Sebastian chuckles softly. “That’s our Ominis.”

Their Ominis. What a lovely little life indeed.

[first-edition]

Fox and the Hound

Sum-Joffrey wants to send a message to your family after your brother embarrasses him, so he marries you off to his most unwanted man in his court, the hound. But will this marriage truly be a statement for an eyesore, or will it grow into something more. 

Cw for chapter- pregnancy, 18+ words and themes overall. Slight angst, brief mention of vomit and sea sickness, attempted r@pe, sexual assault, slight abuse, family death. Description of dying (start)

// A/N: just wanted to apologize for the broken links at the beginning of the book since i changed my username they haven’t been working but i assure you I’ll get to fixing them. I will also end up making a goggle docs with the entire book for downloading when this series ends//

previous chapter here.

CHAPTER 18

The first thing Sandor thought about in the day was you he day dreamt of your safety and the helpless thing inside you that took your body as refuge. He silently prayed that he wouldn’t have to be away from you for any longer. It was also the last thing he thought about before sleeping and dreaming of you. 

But he was more afraid of what his thoughts would be like after his body went quiet. 

Here he layed against the rock bloddied from the fight leg broken unable to move, not that he wanted too. Breanne of fucking Tarth, a women, took him down. He had put up a good and fair fight however but he could feel his life fading before his eyes. The image of you ghosting into his vision you calling his name sweetly as his hand caressed you soft cheek. You smile that warmed his soul. 

Oh he loved to see you smile. He loved to see you happy at his doing. It feels as though you have been together for years on end when it has only taken him 2 months to fall completely under your spell. He knows he won’t survive yet unable to move to end his own hes cursed to lay until he bleeds out or dies from starvation. But at least he will go out knowing he was loved and loved back. 

————

You stand against the side of the boat as you watch the rocky shore pass by slowly. 

“Your highness.” A man speaks to you. You turn around seeing the captain of the ship. 

“We are porting to widows watch in 20 minutes.” He says you nod. 

“I sugesset her highness is tended to by a meister while we take the day to careen. Her ladyship is carrying the further heir is she not?” He asks. 

“Thank you captain i shall take your kindness to the next meisters hut.” You say giving him a smile. He nods giving you a smile back before heading to his previous post. 

Over the course of 20 days or so on and off sea you and joss have become much more that a squire and royal you’ve become friends best friends. you will laugh and dance and tell stories, you’ve told him about your childhood and hes told you about his granted his wasn’t that long ago. 

You’ve celebrated each other birthdays and you now no longer allow him to talk to you anything but plain. 

“My lady.” Joss says walking up to you leaning against the side of the ship you smile at him nudging him with your arm. He chuckles. 

”youre looking more and more like a grown man with that stubble your growing.” You giggle at him. He nods feeling the stubble growing on his face. 

“Yeah. Ill have to find a barber when we dock.” He says. 

“I didn’t say i dosnt suit you.. however the prince Marco fraud over there hasn’t kept a meal down since we got on this boat. That says a lot. Im the pregnant one.” You say joss laughs as you both look over to Marco who wipes his forehead with a cloth. 

“D-do you still think of him?” Joss asks. 

“Of course I do. Everyday i pray for his safety and health just as i do yours. I want him to meet his child preferably in this life and not the next.” You say about Sandor. 

“Would you ever take another man?” Joss asks turning around facing backwards. 

“No..why?” You ask. 

“Even if he died?” He asks again. 

“I dont think, despite out beginning, i could ever take someone else i love him too much and i love what he gave me…why do you ask?” You wonder turning to him your eyes fix on his gaze as he looks across the boat deck to Lucy who hands the prince a glass of water. 

“There’s no point in wanting something if you don’t try for it.” You say to him. He looks back to you a blush forming on his cheeks as he realizes that you know who he was talking about. 

“I-I’ll grab you coat my lady.” He says before hurrying to your quarters below deck. Footsteps make your way to you once more you sigh as you see Marco coming to you. 

“It seems that the uh. The weather for this trip has treated us well?” He smiles. 

“We’ve stayed as close to shore as we can theres been no open water without seeing land through a scoop and were guarded by two man o’ war ships when my parents sent me off to kingslanding we went the long way comanded 4 storms three men died and our sips main mask was missing by the time i arrived and still. I had to endure of that wearing a corset and looking pretty. Meanwhile your vomiting up every fucking meal you consume on the charter of a little turbulence.” You say to him. 

“And yet you still have the energy to mock me.” He snaps back. 

“Yes. Consider it being hormonal.” You bite right back to him and turn to walk off. 

“Why do you fester against me!?” He asks leaving you to stop you back facing him. 

“We’ve been not but 2 feet from each other for 23 days and you prefer to fight on my name instead of getting to know it.” He says. You scoffs and turn back to face him. Joss comes back to you your cloak in hand.

“I dont need to know your name becuase i will not be taking it, as little as you may know, i belong to another. I wont belong to anyone else but him. As a care taken prince I wouldn’t expect you to understand after all your used to feeding off a silver platter and suckling from a gold breast.” You say as joss helps you put on the cover before you both walk to the end of the boat where you’re meant to get off to port for the day. 

————

The day is spent visiting a midwife not allowing a maester to touch you, having a meal with Lucy and joss at the inn you’re staying at and exploring a little before you became to tired and went back to the room. You were unfortunately told that the careening of the underbelly of the boat would take until the night so you should leave in the morning. 

Un happy about the news you reluctantly placed yourself in your room. 

You sit in the bras bath tub alone. You pick at your nails as you lean over the side your raised belly proving it to be a bit of a challenge. Your fingers move up to your hand glazing over the ring that is placed on your ringer. The jewels within it shine against the fireplace light. 

”im sorry i still haven’t made a name for you little one.” You say speaking to the babe within you. 

“But perhaps if your a boy then i will name you after you father? Hmm, and if your a girl I shall name you something beautiful like a flower or the stars. I was going to let your father name you but I'm afraid that wont be the case and id prefer you not go unnamed.” You sigh resting your head on your arm. you open your mouth to speak once again but you hear slight bickering out side your door before it opens. 

“You cannot enter my lord she is bathing!” Joss yells out at prince marco who stumbles into the room clearly drunk you cover your self sinking into the tub further. 

“Get out!” You yell at him. Joss grabs Marco to pull him away but he turns around and lands a hefty punch onto joss’s face causing him to fall to the ground before Marco kicks him. 

“YOU DARE PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME BOY!?” The prince yells before pushing joss out of the room and closing the door behind him bolting the door. Marco turns to you. 

“Get out. How dare you enter my room like this.” You bark out at him. 

“Get up.” He says you ignore his request sinking deeper into the tub. 

“You mock me, taunt me, refuse to conform to your duties as a princes!” He grumbles as he stomps twords you grabbing your hair pulling you. you welp in pain as he pulls you out of the tub. 

“AH! LET GO OW!” You scream out in pain as you drags you. You slip on the seat floor loosing your footing. He pushes you to the floor fighting above you. 

“No- NO STOP!” You scream tears welling up in your face as you fight under him. 

“You will know your fucking place!!” He grunts as he hits you across your face. 

“Ah!” You cry out in pain tear balling from your eyes and you continue to fight him stretching his face. He bails his hand into a first and punches you across your face twice. The taste of metal hits your tounge as your lip is split under the impact. You hear faint pounding behind the wooden door of the room as joss calls your name. The sound of a belt buckle clinking. You stop your fight as he holds you down. Before the imminent pain you could experience hes shoved off you two guards and joss pounce on him as he hollers out a multicellular of curse words before being dragged out of the room.

“Your highness?!.” You hear as Lucy and two others run to you wrapping a sheet around your naked body as they help you sit up. Lucy pulls you into her arms as you sob the pulsing pain in your face far from the pain in your heart. The fear flooded illness that could’ve resulted much worse.

”h-help me d-dress.” You say getting up weakly as she helps you. 

“Are you alright did he-“ 

“No. i want to leave now. Help me dress!” You speak. She and others nod. 

“Joss.” You say before he walks out after the guards. he looks to you holding his side from the rough kick Marco gave, his face bloddied. 

“Th-thank you. We will be t-taking a guarding ship the rest of way.” You say he nods to you before walking out closing the door after himself so your ladies can help you dress. You pull off the sheet holding your stomach before they slip on your undergarments and then and easy dress and shoes. They take the small bag you had packed for the night before you all hurry out. To the shipping dock. 

You board the guarding ship with the others, a few guards and joss, despite his condition help board over your items from the main ship before taking off back to the sea

Next chapter coming soon.

TAGLIST. If you’d like to be added to the tag list please leave a comment down below.

Taglist @stephyshadows@germansarechill@urfavbiscuit@daphneyblue@takemeaemond@holb32@allison-119@pxstelink@imsolonelyimissyou@myshitaccount@broadsdrinkwhisky@@evie-beanie@eulysa23-2@greeknymph18@rudiruds@ex160-blog1@im-an-assho1e@chompwoman@heartb8k2@lovely--lover ex160-blog1 @midnightprocrastinator

[yuly]

I desperately need a part 2 to the “that’s Hotchner to you, agent” plz plz plz 🙃

→ hi lovely anon! ask and you shall receive! cw: only fluff I promise!

Aaron Hotchner x genderal neutral reader 

Always Aaron to You

Aaron is not a person who gives his trust easily. Once his trust has been broken, he clams up like a shell and prying that open might cost you a couple fingers. It's been a month now and you are willing to do whatever it takes for him to even look in your direction again. You miss your Aaron, your cuddle buddy, your confidant, your man. Because your words caused him this much pain and undid all the work the two of you have done to get him to express his feelings and be open, you have to think of a way to get him to see and hear just how sorry you are. With Valentine's Day coming up, you decide to use that to your advantage. If he throws it back in your face, you would take it in stride and leave him alone for good, this was your last shot. 

Aaron is not a shopping fanatic and he's not the easiest to buy gifts for, you know that he does everything in life for the people he loves, so you decide to take a page out of his book and pray it goes well.

He comes home absolutely exhausted, the case was long, the jet lag severe, and the whole precinct annoyed him to no end. Worst of all, he had to spend yet another day pretending to be angry with you when all he wanted was for things to go back to normal. But his pride was hurt so he kept the act up. As he made his way to the doorstep, Aaron thought of all the non-work related things he needed to get done this weekend and he let out an exasperated sigh. Being a single father with his work schedule was exhausting, to say the least. Aaron hated asking for help, but he so desperately needed to get some rest this weekend. As he entered his apartment, he toyed with the idea of swallowing his pride and maybe asking Jessica for a favour. 

Aaron was surprised to find Jack running about the apartment, stuffing a suitcase with clothes, toys and other odd bits.

“Dad! Guess what! I’m going to the Star Wars all-weekend exhibit with Jessica and cousins!!!!” Jack rambled excitedly, nearly foaming at the mouth. Apparently, Jessica was lucky enough to get her hands on some of the last tickets at the very last minute.

“I hope you don’t mind me whisking him away so last minute, I’m sorry if you had plans together or-”

“No, no, not at all actually. Thank you, Jess. It's been a long week I actually could use a weekend in, I owe you.” She smiled and swatted him away. Aaron wondered how his silent prayers of a quiet weekend were answered so quickly.

The next day, Aaron got an email reminding him of a golfing event he apparently booked in advance in the city. Aaron was confused, having no relocation of signing up, bet there was the receipt, from a month ago, under his name and credit card. He had actually been looking forward to going for a while now and must’ve forgotten about signing up. He spent the day catching up and flexing his skills in front of old friends. As he looked over the green hills and admired the view, Aaron got a text from Jessica, a photo of Jack and his cousins having an absolute ball at “stars wars land” as he called it, much to Jack’s dismay. He quickly saved the photo and sent her a thank you text back. At that moment, as the sun smiled down on him from its midday spot in the sky, Aaron felt content and happy, he felt lucky and again, he silently questioned how and why this weekend seemed to only get better. It was almost perfect, save for the small part of him that yearned for you.

When Aaron returned home that evening to find a bouquet of pink and white flowers, he was immediately on high alert. He cleared the area, and scanned the object carefully, only entering his home once he was certain everything was ok. He disarmed the alarm system and quietly closed the door behind him. He went through every square inch of the home, only relaxing when he successfully cleared the premises. He turned his attention to the bouquet of flowers, shades of pink and white staring back at him. He set them down on the kitchen counter, shifting his focus to the small card in the center.

“Agent Hotchner, please accept these as a token of my apology. 

The pink hydrangeas symbolize my regret over my words and actions toward you. I hope the optimism of the lily of the valley can bring a rebirth in our friendship, and that the pink peonies bring you good luck, maybe they can be the angel that silently answers your prayers.

- Agent L/N.”

Aaron is taken aback, he honestly cannot remember a time in his life when he received flowers in such a loving gesture. It flusters him as he’s unsure how to place this emotion that was nagging at his chest. The last line makes the cogs in his brain spin and his heart race. Could it be possible that this weekend was your doing? Or was the sweet gesture getting to his head.

“Aaron, is everything ok?” He could hear the kids laughing in the background.

“I need to know where did you get the tickets from”

After a bit of resistance, Jessica confesses that you had gifted them the tickets. She insisted that it was simply a kind gesture and pleaded with Aaron not to say anything.

Within 15 minutes, Aaron is at your doorstep with the flowers in hand.

“Aar-Agent Hotchner?”

“You bought those tickets for Jack didn’t you?”

Your gaze shifts to your feet, unsure how to read his flat tone and fearing the worst.

“Yes.”

“And the golfing, you signed me up for it didn’t you?”

You look up to meet his eyes now, honey-coloured orbs that make your knees weak. His expression is difficult to read but his tone is soft. 

“Thought I’d make it up to you, show you how sorry I am.”

His heart aches at how docile and unsure you sound. He lifts your chin up to meet your eyes once again and spares you a smile, “you are my light at the end of the tunnel, I hope you know that.”

A shy breaks across your face, the warmth of his words wrapping around you snugly. 

“Hotch-”

“Aaron, always Aaron to you, Y/N. I love you”

You nuzzle into his chest, relieved that this long and drawn-out fight between you is finally over. Something clicks and the final piece of the puzzle has found its place as harmony is restored between you and Aaron.

“I love you, Aaron.”

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Tagging:

@michasia24 @hizzielover @shamelessfangirl-3 @lilozg-123 @daily-evanstan  @justarandommom @hausofwhores

[acourtofquietdreamers]

dear elain lover 🌹💭🍰,

1.  what about elain’s character do you love?

2.  what scene of the seer’s is your favourite?

3.  what is your top theory for the quiet dreamer’s upcoming book?

4.  anything else you’d like to say about the lovely fawn?

1. I love so much about Elain! I love how she finds the light and beauty in dark times. I love how she has a soft and gentle nature, but also still has a backbone and is willing to stand up for herself. I love how she has tried her very best to help Feyre since taking accountability for her past actions in ACOMAF. I love her subtle sense of humor and quiet strength. I love that she finds joy in domestic tasks like gardening, cooking, and baking.

2. There’s so many 🥲 The scene at the end of ACOWAR where Elain declares the world needs more gardens is so powerful. She had just stabbed a king, lost her father, and went through soo many traumatic moments the past couple of months yet she still found it within herself to stay hopeful and dream. Another favorite of mine is when Elain stood up to Nesta in ACOSF. “Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” She is so so strong and I can’t wait to see more of that strength in her book. Also when she laughed in ACOSF after Nesta told her “fuck you” 😭 She was so happy to see Nesta not coddling her anymore and I love seeing her happy!

3. This isn’t a theory, but I’m most excited to see Elain’s powers as a seer explored. I want to know how her powers work and if it’s something she still struggles with behind the scenes. Because Elain is an introverted character and a seer, it’ll be extra exciting to see what’s been going on inside of her head!

My favorite Elain theory/prediction for her book is that she will be the first SJM character to break/reject a mating bond. So many in the fandom miss how powerful this storyline would be for a woman in Prythian because they are so focused on the man’s perspective. We know mating bonds aren’t always a perfect match and many women in Pyrthian are pressured to stay in this poor match out of obligation to the bond or political reasons. Knowing Elain’s mom groomed her to be nothing more than a pretty face to be married off as an advantageous match, Elain breaking the bond and choosing love for herself would be such an impactful choice for her character. It would also make Elain a symbol for other women in Pythian who feel stuck in an unwanted mating bond.

4. Elain is one of the most unjustifiably hated characters in the ACOTAR fandom and I can’t wait for her book to prove everyone wrong. Elain isn’t just “gardener girl”. She isn’t just sunshine. She isn’t just a socialite with no ambition. She isn’t just someone’s mate. She is her own person who is fully capable of making her own choices. She is gentle, but she is also cablable of stabbing a king and kicking hounds in the face. She is willing to get her hands dirty to protect those she loves. She is kind, but we can see in ACOFAS and ACOSF that she will no longer let others walk all over her and control what she does with her life. Elain is a cauldron made seer, with powers to match Feyre, Nesta, and Rhys, and I can’t wait to see her do great things in her book!

Thanks for the ask anon 💗🌹

[sirkusdyretbooks]

The last week these two books have hardly been out of my hands, I've been reading on the bus, in a park, on the bus stop, on a flight of stairs, co-reading with a friend, and whenever the opportunity arose. You see I watched the Netflix show right after handing in my Bachelor and thus got quite curious about the books written by Julia Quinn, and yes I couldn't wait to see the conclusion of Season 3. However, I was fairly surprised, as the books are extremely different from the Netflix show. So, here's my rambling about the two books, because I do love to ramble.

I do think most of the Bridgerton books can be read in any order as you deem fit, but continuing over to book 5 from book 4 naturally seems the best choice as they happen so close to one another. In fact book 5 overlapping with book 4's timeline in it's end, which however also does not do book 5 justice due to inconsistencies between the stories. I am just going to come out with it, as it actually bothered me quite a bit, as book 4 ends on the sentence "And no one saw them for several days" (before the epilogue). Yet, in book 5 Colin leaves Penelope to the country with his three brothers only 2-3 days after the end of the 4th book. 2-3 days is not "several days", at least not to me, and you would think at least Colin might have brought Penelope with him up to the country due to how book 4 ended. It just bothers me greatly.

Adding: Eloise NEVER finds out about her best friend Penelope being Lady Whistledown in any of these books.

Bridgerton Book 4: Romancing Mr Bridgerton

First of all, the three Featherington sisters have a younger sister, Felicity Featherington who has started her season upon the start of "Romancing Mr Bridgerton". Second, it's been over ten years since Daphne's and Simon's story, (which is the book I am currently reading), and Hyacinth is also out for her first season.

I really enjoy that time has passed. Penelope being almost 28, and she's basically a spinster at this point, together with Eloise whom has contracted her own little hobby to Colins dismay. Colin even think his sister is Lady Whistledown, and of course, we do not even get to know who Lady Whistledown actually is until Colin is the one to figure it out on accident.- Colin being too pre-occupied paying attention to Penelope, who is used to no one paying attention to her.

The carriage ride in season 3 actually is the carriage ride after Penelope was caught and they had a huge fight where Colin is upset about her putting herself in danger, going to such "shady parts of London" by herself, in which turns into quite the scandalous make-out session of course. In which at the end of the carriage ride Colin ask Penelope to be his wife. (Adding as I just watched episode six: They DID adapt it, but not of course the same way, here I enjoy the books version more).

I do have to comment, I absolutely love seeing more of Colins point of view, he is much more of a person in the book, as inner monologues do sadly not transfer well into tv. One parts of his human sides that I love and hate at the same time, is his love for food, he's always eating.

Here I will stop comparing it to the netflix show (and I shall enjoy the rest of the show when I do watch it).

The drama unfolding after is of course quite a thing, because it is of course not just Lady Whistledowns possible exposure by Cressida Twombley, who wishes to extort Penelope from all her Whistledown money, but also Colins jealousy towards his brothers and also fiancé for "having purpose", finding trust and support in his author-wife for his journals, which is absolutely lovely.

I really loved this book quite much.

Bridgerton Book 5: To Sir Phillip with Love

From the shock of Eloise's spinster friend Penelope marrying her brother Colin, thus no longer being a fellow-spinster she finds herself in a desperate need to maybe find something for herself as well.

Thus taking the recently widowed Sir Phillip Crane's invitation to heart, months even after it arrived, but just having to get away from her family, disappearing from the ball hosted by the Duke and Dunchess of Hastings, the very night Lady Whistledown was exposed, in which Eloise never found out of course. Showing up at Sir Phillip's door the morning after.

Sir Phillip wishes to find a new wife due to his dear Marina sadly passing away the year prior, due to being "melancholy". Especially, due to his twin children needing a mother. In which he hopes to find in Eloise. Eloise however, never was told of these two eight-year olds in the letters between them, but growing up with seven siblings, where three of them have had more than two children each, she is quite used to children at this point, which makes it not the worst match. However, the children are quite unruly, and are known for being absolute demons.

Having basically ran away from home, of course four Bridgerton men soon show up at Sir Phillips's door, demanding an explanation (Why Colin wouldn't bring Penelope is beyond me). Having been "alone" with a man for two days, Eloise is now of course un-marriageable, even if the only thing that happened was an eccentric kiss, and Anthony Bridgerton demands a marriage between them. In which Eloise wouldn't mind...had it not been for her brother's meddling hands. Sir Phillip is quite happy, Eloise will of course be a splendid mother to his twins. While Eloise wonders if this could at some point, maybe eventually be a marriage with love.

Another thing that bothered me in this book, was how Eloise wishes to speak to her sisters, especially Daphne for advice, but does not even mention Penelope. It almost seems like she has forgotten about her best friend, until the end of the book, where she gives birth to her first child, in which she names Penelope, after her best friend. Being the stubborn Bridgerton-woman she is and not naming her children in alphabetical order.

I was less of a fan of book 5 than book 4, but it was for sure enjoyable, and I do plan on reading the entire series, because why not? Everyone needs some British housewife porn in their lives.

[focsle]

I've seen you answer a few asks about whaling history before, so hopefully I'm not offbase asking you questions out of the blue? But anyway, how did people bathe (or keep clean if not by bathing) during long sea voyages?

Not off base at all! Out of the blue whaling history questions are some of my fav asks to receive; I find them thrilling. I can’t help but write an essay every time.

It was particularly hard to keep clean on a whaler, and whalemen were often disparaged by those in other maritime professions. In 1839, naval Lieutenant Charles Wilkes said of the crew of the whaleship America, 

“I have seldom seen at sea a more uncombed and dirty set of mariners than his crew.“

J.E. Haviland of the Baltic, 1856, complained of besmirching his journal pages with the grime that he was unable to scrub off his hands after tarring the rigging, self consciously saying:

“My hands + clothes would look beautiful for a ladies Parlor. I see they even collor the paper but I cannot get the tar out. The Old Man says he intends to have me tar down the rigging a few days before we get in New Bedford so that I shall not forget too soon that I have been a sailor.”

General ships’ work  such as tarring could be messy, but a whaler’s work was even messier. When trying out blubber it was futile to attempt maintaining any semblance of cleanliness during the process. William Abbe of the Atkins Adams, 1859, said that during boiling, a watch would turn in to their bunks a few hours rest, merely ‘after wiping off your bare body with oakum to take off the thickest of the oil”.

But the gore and oil wasn’t forever. After the particular job was done the ship would be meticulously cleaned, and the whalers would tend to themselves too. As Herman Melville wrote,

“The crew themselves proceed to their own ablutions; shift themselves from top to toe; and finally issue to the immaculate deck, fresh and all aglow, as bridegrooms new-leaped from out the daintiest Holland. Now, with elated step, they pace the planks in twos and threes, and humorously discourse of parlors, sofas, carpets, and fine cambrics; propose to mat the deck; think of having hanging to the top; object not to taking tea by moonlight on the piazza of the forecastle. To hint to such musked mariners of oil, and bone, and blubber, were little short of audacity. They know not the thing you distantly allude to. Away, and bring us napkins!”

Haviland expressed gratitude in getting a chance to get clean after all the work of boiling blubber was done:

“I feel much better to day I have given myself a good wash + a clean shave + got in all clean clothes. You would not have known your own son if you could have seen him yesterday. I was nearly black with smoke + dirt. (with shame) I say it was the accumulation of 2 months dirt + 4 months beard. Everything looks as clean + bright as it did before we took the whale”

Being able to bathe was such a highlight that Abbe titled one of his journal pages “Washing myself!!” With TWO exclamation points!

“I write with pride in my fastidious journal that this morning I washed my face + hands with castile soap + fresh water — when shall I do the like again? When shall I write the pleasant and comfortable fact that I have shaved? The future and fair weather only can tell.”

The ship’s slop chest—its general store—had toiletries for sale, often at a very high premium. Whaling account books show men buying pounds of oil soap for their own personal stores. The fresh water was often rainwater collected for this purpose, rather than the casks set aside for drinking.

“This has been a rather squally day,” wrote Mary Lawrence, whaling wife who accompanied her husband on his ship Addison in the 1850s. “Considerable rain has fallen, and everybody on deck is using an abundant supply of rainwater for washing purposes.” She also added, though this is speaking of laundry rather than bathing, “Having stopped up the scuppers, the use the whole deck for one grand washtub.”

They’d use the sea, too. John Martin of the Lucy Ann, wrote of bathing via rain and sea whilst near the equator on January 24th, 1842.

“Towards noon the rain came down in torrents. The weather being sultry the watch on deck shipped off their shirts to it. John the boat steerer went entirely naked with the exception of a handkerchief tied around his privates. In the afternoon it cleared away, when I asked permission from the Captain for the crew to take a bathe over the side. He said we might do it if we rigged a studding sail over the side, which was soon done & all hands that could swim were to be seen jumping from different parts of the ship. Some went out to the end of the flying jib boom & jumped off there. Even the dog was thrown overboard & got his share of washing. I like bathing at sea but for one thing, and that is sharks. I always have a fear that one might be hovering about and give one a nip before he was aware of it.”

It was challenging for whalers to keep clean by nature of the job, but man when they were able to they really seemed to revel in it. For many of them it was more than just a bath; it was a symbolic return to a home they were long away from, or to the man they perceived themselves to be back on shore, or of a society that they felt cut off from in their line of work.

If you’re interested I also wrote a thing about doing laundry on whaleships too, yonder!

[screemnch]

The Pathologic Russian and English analysis: Clara Saburova the Changeling Part 2

I am finally free to have a single month of summer vacation, so I'm taking this opportunity to finish up the last of the healer to healer communication analysis. Are you excited? I sure am.

As the Haruspex: I uhhh… Don’t have much to say specifically about the differences between Clara in Russian and English that I haven’t already said. Like yeah, she acts differently with Artemy than she does with Daniil, but that is present in both of the versions - she is much more vulnerable and emotive with Burakh, while she is a lot more deceitful with Dankovsky (which is sorta muddled by the fact that he’s the only one of the two to meet her "twin"). She refers to Artemy using exclusively the informal “you” and has a very stubborn and argumentative way of speaking for most of it. The instances of the “biblical” way of speaking that I pointed out in the Bachelor route are less frequent here, and Clara comes across as, well, just a girl. I uh… Also think that the dialogue website I’m using might be missing the bit of dialogue on day 11 when Clara actually offers to help Artemy? It has the dialogue for when he’s already in the Kaiur, but not beforehand (and the wiki tells me that they do talk in person before that. Correct me if I’m wrong). Sooooo yeah, that’s about it. This analysis is a bit more… Explaining the references and intertextualities within the dialogue rather than discussing what translational differences imply, but I think it’d be a cool insight nonetheless. So let’s get started!

This is… Completely unrelated to any translation stuff, but I did want to provide a little bit of intertextual context for “Suok” to allow all the fans that don’t speak Russian to speculate about this on their own. I tried to look up and see if there were any other potential sources for this name, but haven’t been able to find any alternative ones. So here goes. Suok is a last name, which served as inspiration for a character name from the Russian story book “the Three Fat Men” by Yuri Olesha. Very briefly the story is about a town being held under the oppressive rule of the titular three fat men, who had each taken control of one of the town’s resources (that sure reminds me of someone). Suok in this story is a young circus performer, who pretends to be the previously broken doll of Tutti - the Fat Men’s heir. She does so to free one of the leaders of the revolution that has been captured and sentenced to execution. It is revealed in the story that Suok was actually the twin sister of Tutti, which is why the doll looked so like her - it was made to replace her. It’s not the most well known of Russian stories, but it’s recognizable enough for an expat like me to remember. Thematically I do think it’s funny that there’s a reference to a story where three powerful people attempt to squash a revolution (which is by the way led by two men), and a little girl with a twin ends up saving one of those revolutionaries from certain death. And the doll theming. However, if I’m just ignorant and there’s actually like… A Buryat or Mongolian name or entity that’s also called Suok and it’s actually a reference to that… I shall wear a dunce cap, or something, Idk.

I really wish that I could convey how… Story-like Clara’s way of speaking becomes here? Like, yeah, she does talk somewhat… “biblically” but this is not that. She’s not just reciting the events, the way the story is phrased and the language flows feels like she’s restating it word for word. Especially in the part where Clara talks about how Suok was unkillable by anything - it’s all one continuous sentence. It reminds me of, and this is truly truly obscure Russian stuff, that one cartoon about Kutkh the Raven and the four silly mice that kept annoying the life out of him (it’s on Youtube I believe, so go educate yourself on some fairytales from Kamchatka). Those stories have a way of being both lyrical and conversational at the same time - it uses improper grammar (like starting your sentence with “and”) and feels very casual in its sentence structure, but the words it chooses and the matter it discusses is grandiose and epic (in the literary sense). Also a fun little detail is that rather than saying that the abyss couldn’t claim Suok, Clara says that she “did not wish to return to the abyss.”

Adding to my collection of “Clara and Artemy are a comedic duo, actually” is this moment in which (while the English version makes it sounds a little ironic and cautious) Artemy just casually goes “wow, that’s just like us…” as Clara is telling him the Kin’s creation myth. Though you can’t tell me that he wouldn’t be the kind of person that looks at a Bosch painting and goes “that’s so me.”

More from the “fun Russian idioms” world…While we do have a translation of “a little bird told me” in Russian - it is exactly that - a translation. From English actually. The idiom used here is, as far as I know, an originally Russian one. Namely “a dog barks, the wind carries it” which is essentially just “yeah it’s gossip I heard on the street.” Nothing particularly significant about this difference, just thought y’all would appreciate it.

At this point I’m becoming painfully aware of the fact that calling these an analysis of a specific character is silly, because there’s always two people involved in the conversation, but the format has been set already sooo… I could wax poetic about how much more laconic Russian is in terms of threats (partially due to the fact that we don’t use articles and stuff) but also I can’t help but feel like this was much easily translatable? Like, the line is, essentially “let’s hope you don’t regret this!” which is very much a threat already. But I guess the translating team decided to take the road less travelled.

I think I may have peaked. It doesn’t get better from here, this is the ultimate achievement of this analysis. In the last instalment of the madness project I spent a whole paragraph trying to explain why the Bachelor calling Clara “trash” was actually a scathing, humiliating insult that was translated as “little tramp” for no apparent reason, which made it seem (at least to me) a lot less cutting. I’d ask you to look at that screenshot in the previous analysis to see if you spot anything familiar, but I don’t even have an exclusive tag for this madness project (I totally should tho) and I won’t subject you to the other stuff I’ve written in my ramblings. I’ll just cut the suspense here: In this dialogue Artemy uses the exact same word that was translated as “tramp” for Daniil. The word “дрянь” (dryan’), meaning trash or something too worn out and torn to be useful. I understand this must’ve been done because the Bachelor and the Haruspex are supposed to have very different vibes about them and because, as previously stated, the Bachelor doesn’t get to be nearly as aggressive as he is in Russian but like… Wow. I think I need this in a meme format or something, because it’s just so funny to me. To clarify, too: “дрянь” isn’t an explicit swear word. It’s an insult, but it doesn’t need to be censored or anything. Neither “tramp” nor “bitch” fits the translation more or less. And I think that’s hilarious that they translated it so differently for the two characters.

And we’re back in the realm of “interesting” instead of “baffling” and “confusing”. Instead of “dying” or “letting people die” the two of them specifically talk about “killing”. Artemy asks if Clara wants to kill Taya, making the situation a lot more malicious from Clara’s perspective (this is the whole quest with figuring out how the story that Clara started telling Taya ends). Pretty short for a note, but it’s also just interesting in terms of like… How malice is attributed to Clara in the Russian version, but seems impersonal in the English version.

Just as fascinating (and probably just as short of a note) is this line, where in Russian Artemy calls Clara “daughter” with a diminutive. A lot of Russian words have diminutives, but it doesn’t necessarily make them appear kinder. Actually with words like “daughter”, the non-diminutive version – “дочь” (doch’) – is used a lot less and usually feels colder and more distant. The version with the diminutive – “дочка” (doch’ka) is the one used in everyday conversations. If you want to add endearment to the word, you’d have to put in another diminutive, making the word “доченька” (dochen’ka). That being said, I guess calling someone who isn’t related to you “son” or “daughter” isn’t too uncommon (though I usually picture it being said by like… grandmas on a bench, or helpful fairytale entities), though your everyday person is much more likely to just say “girl”, “boy”, or “kid”.

Not a translation difference, but I’ve already included a bunch of intertextual references in this particular analysis, so why not one more, huh? The story that Clara tells about the crystal flower, while obviously being an allusion to the town and the polyhedron, specifically referring to the utopian ending (cutting down the living flowers instead of the crystal flower -> razing the town and leaving the tower to stand) also reminds me of a specific story within the “Malachite Box” collection of the fairytales by Pavel Bazhov (check them out if you can, it’s a bunch of folk tales from the Ural mountains and they’re fascinating and incredibly dark). Specifically “the Stone Flower” - a story following Danila - an orphan boy that becomes a master-stone carver, but struggles to finish an order that doesn’t fit his own particular standards. He is told of the Stone Flower in the lair of the Mistress of the Copper Mountain (a force of nature entity that’s recurring in the “malachite box”) and how seeing it will allow someone to understand the stone and how to carve it. However he is warned that all who’ve seen it have always remained in the mountain, working for the Mistress of the Copper Mountain. Danila does, indeed, manage to see the stone flower and return to his bride, but what only manages to stay for so long before he destroys almost every single one of his creations and disappears without a trace. It’s left up for debate whether he simply went mad and perished in the woods, or if he returned to the Copper Mountain. I do think there are some parallels to be drawn between this story and Pathologic’s polyhedron – specifically in how it relates to Peter Stamatin. Not a one to one comparison, of course, but there’s something to be said there about the madness that comes with creating or trying to create something bigger than yourself, to the point where it’s less of the human world and more of the world of miracles and myth.

Not a particularly drastic difference here, but just wanted to point out that the whole “your lies are so crafty…” bit of this dialogue isn’t… actually present in the Russian version? I think the translating team kinda got used to the fact that this dialogue is almost the same as when Daniil talks to Clara, so they’ve added in this line even though Artemy just says “I’m fed up with you”.

To sum it up: yeah, I don’t have much. Clara is a fascinating character to me, but I do think that she is fascinating in both English and Russian. She’s a multitude of contradictory things, and she is condemned by those around her for either not fitting into the category they believe her to belong to, or being exactly what they believe her to be. She doesn’t get a break. Most of the differences between English and Russian have been just slightly “vibe altering” ones, and it’s a bit difficult to place a finger on the reasons why those changes I made. Like, with Daniil I could generalise that in an attempt to make him seem cold and detached, he accidentally lost a lot of his emotiveness. I have made the argument that Clara’s Russian dialogue makes her come across as more meta-aware (and there’s something to be said about how I argued that Clara and Aglaya are very idealistically opposed about the exact same belief and how that notion is echoed in Clara’s dialogue with Artemy) but at the end of the day… Yeah, the translators did a pretty good job with this one. I’ve said before that it’s not really a good idea to have every piece of dialogue include a footnote explaining what every word means (at least in a game like Pathologic. A game focused on education would be soooo fun with those. Like Martial Law, for example) but to add to that: I think it’s pretty cool that Ice Pick Lodge managed to create a game that is so distinctly Russian, that even a city boy like me can understand, despite taking place in the steppe. And at the same time, you don’t have to be Russian to understand it. I’ve provided a bit of intertextual context here, but you don’t actually need it to feel and understand what makes it so compelling, as seen by the fact that this game is beloved both in and outside of Russia. And I love that for all of us.

And that is it, folks, at least for the three healers and how they interact with each other. Up next (and hopefully not several months later) I'm gonna examine the shared dialogue that the healers have with the townsfolk. I guess that one will be both comparing the similarities and differences between the languages and between the three of them. Yippeee.

[fictionalwhores]

Dating Remus Lupin would include...

A/N: I already want to make a part 2 to this

-The marauders always tease Remus about girls but when they see you give Remus his book back they almost fall on top of each other trying to rush to him because holy shit, Remus lent you a book? You must be pretty special, what’s going on here 

-So many nights in the common room reading together until you’re falling asleep in each other’s arms 

-The werewolf ordeal. Listen, this goes one of two ways, he either keeps it from you forever and the boys have to push him to tell you OR you figure out in the first 3 months of your dating and he's baffled no between 

-Remus isn’t big on PDA but sometimes around the full moon he gets so overstimulated and he just needs you to ground him. Sometimes this means him just burying his face in your neck, arms around waist and trying to block out every noise, light, and unwanted thoughts 

-Keeping him company in the library and making sure he takes breaks before he rots his brain out with stress, he’s fairly quiet but you can get him going on a ramble if it comes to his favorite studies 

-Getting him out of bed is impossible so have fun with weekly morning cuddles when you spend the night and him groaning anytime you try to leave 

-During parties Remus tends to stand closely behind you, sometimes resting his chin on your head while you guys talk to other students. HUGGING FROM BEHIND ugh 

-The other marauders love and adore you but tease you all the time about stealing their moony 

-You help him around his time of the month and he’ll help you around your time of the month.. If they happen at the same time.. Lord help us all 

-Remus is insecure about his scars, so when he allows you to touch his skin under his clothes, thats a big deal 

-And this boy is a sucker for back scratches under his sweater so buckle up 

-I imagine Remus being patient and wouldn’t get too worked up with you unless it was too close to the moon but you would know what time of the month it was and he would make sure to separate himself for a couple of hours to calm down before he lashes out 

-He’s also patient in the sense of teaching you things, he’ll walk you through any homework assignment if you need it 

-This boy is a radiator you cannot convince me otherwise, stick your hands under his shirt for warmth and you shall find he finds it so amusing

-he likes to play with your hands if he gets anxious and does the “wow my hands are so much bigger than yours” comparison 

-He’s so tall he could kiss the top of your head with ease and does 

-Borrowing his sweaters 

-Remus TRIPLE checks the lock on the dorm room when you guys do steamy things because the other marauders walked in once and they still do not let it go 

-Jokes about height differences 

“You are so tall” 

“Maybe you’re just abnormally short” 

“You’re practically a tree! I have to break my neck to talk to you” 

“You’re one to talk, I lose you in a matter of seconds with how easily you disappear!”

“I’m right here” 

“Yet I can look over you without any effort, you just disappear from my line of sight”

[popculturebuffet]

Pirate Month III Finale: Garfield's Halloween Adventure (Here Comes Garfield) (Patreon Review for Emma Fici)

Arrr me hearties and welcome to the FINAL instalment of Pirate Month. I gotta say this may be our best yet: while I had my doubts going in from the weirdness of the wiggles to the heights of pirates 2 this has been a lot of fun and reminded me of the possiblity of this.

Speaking of which we're ending on a high as we return to Here Comes Garfield my look at garfield's career in specials and film. We'll be taking another break next month, like muppet maddness emma's allowed me to be flexible, but rest assured i'm having a lot of fun with these and while I consdiered doing Garfield In Paradise as I wanted some summer fun.. I ultimately couldn't deny what fit here best. Don't worry we have just the right treat for halloween though.. after all halloween's all about putting on another face.. and garfield's had 9.. or shall we say 13.

On that tease for next time, let's talk about the special before us. Garfield's Halloween Adventure is his fourth special, and i'd say one of the most remembered. While Garfield's other holiday specials have failed to catch a ton of attention outside garfield fans and those who grew up with it, Halloween Adventure seems to get talked about more.

It's easy to see why: Halloween Adventure is the best of the three. Christmas is awesome and I talked about why last month, having a ton of heart and a clear perosnal bent from Jim Davis, and Thanksgiving... sure does exist. But Halloween both perfectly fits the season and garfield all at once: it's got all the coziness of halloween from trying on costumes to carving pumpkins to the eerie yet fun atmosphere of trick or treating.. and all teh scares with a few smaller ones spread about, nothing too severe.. and then a spooky enough final act that comes out of nowhere and just.. works. While garfield woudl take a genuine stabs at horror later with a segment in the 9 lives book and a week of strips where he wakes up to find the house long abandoned and john and odie long gone, this is more just some fun. As Davis himself said, it's more a regular garfield story with some scares at the end for four year olds. IT's a fun, breezy specail I can't wait to break down.

We open on a crisp and cozy halloween morning around 5am as we get the debut of a legend: On the TV Binky the Clown wakes Garfield for exercises.

Binky is one of the best garfield recurring characters, played by John's va Thom Huge. While he started here he'd quickly become a key part of garfield and friends when it aried, showing up regularly, having tons of fan support and even making it into the strip

I was also shocked to find when looking him up on the garfield wiki he has his own burger chain binky burger, which seems to show up more than he does

It's also amazing how much of the guy was down from the start: his hammy personality, catchphrase of "HEYYYYYY KIIIIIDDDS", antagonism of Garfield and general obnoxious hostility. Despite not being physically present you can tell WHY Garfield hates this guy most of the time and why Davis and co brought him back for Garfield and Friends. He hasn't been properly brought back since, likely because Thom Huge retired though he did make cameos on products in the garfield movie. He feels like a protypical Krusty the Clown: children's tv host, merchandises himself to hell, has run ins with the main characters but firmly existed before him. I think the creators just had similar childhoods growing up with tv clowns and took them in diffrent directions: Krusty is enthusastic on screen burnt out and kinda sleazzy off while Binky is ALWAYS on, just as much of a dick as krusty but that kind of manic. As seen above in the strip even when he's being a dick it's clear he takes his craft VERY seriously.

So Binky making fat jokes, calling people who don't exercise worthless and generally being the clown prince of dickheads is both deeply entertaning and causes Garfield to change the channel... only to change it back when Binky mentions candy. Garfield's reminded it's halloween and wnats to be in shape to get candy dosen't he.

We launch into our standard Lou Rawls opening number and as usual it's a lot of fun. This is the Night is a fun song about going out to trick or treat. The man never failed to make his song the best minute of the special. And he's got another later lucky us.

So Garfield does what he does best.. harasses john, scaring him so he ends up wearing a pumpkin on his head as is his lot in life. I do like how this special really leans into one of my faviorite aspects: Garfield is more than anything John's spoiled son. The age varies, usually he's a bratty teen but here he comes off more like a big kid, and that sponebobian flexiblity really works for the character. Garfile dhas a blankie and flights of fantasy btu generally just vegges out and spends all johns money. He can be a kid or a teen depending on what joke works better and his status as a cat means which one dosen't firmly matter.

Anyways garfield decides to get candy candy candy, and soon runs into odie who scares him using the same pumpkin what ended up on john. Naturally he dosen't find it amusing. I hadn't noticed before but the first half of this special is a nice slow burn: for the first 2/3 it's just normal garfield stuff but on HALLOWEEN, and the holiday fits him well: it's all about spooky stuff, which he's been shown to love when it's not real as garfield watching late night double features is a recurring thing in the strip, and excess, which is his whole deal.

So to get more of that candy candy candy, Garfield enlists odie, who true to form is too stupid to know wha thalloween is so garfield says dogs help cats get candy candy candy. And just to go ahead and tackle it, Garfile'ds regular increasingly manic shouts of CANDY CANDY CANDY are amazing and a testiament to Lorenzo music's talent

Speaking of testiaments to Lorenzo music's talents, the next musical number, of three is what should I be and it's one of only TWO times Garfield sings in the all 12 specials. And Lorenzo makes a meal of it it's a fun song about how he could be whatever he wants from a "an astronaut a robot a king or a clown or a alien creature going out on the town" with some nicely spooky image of garfield as a vampire bat or a big black halloween cat. It's a fun jaunty number and cute as hell.

Eventually, and the reason why we're here, Garfield settles on pirates. His pillaging John's Lasanga is both predictable and shocking of him to not you know, have some ready. IT's late enough in the characters history he should just accept this is his fate to feed a cat Lasanga and move on with his life.

So with that our heroes head out into the night, and garfield threatens a woman who only gives him one.. and she takes it seriously as garfield won't murder over much, not worth the effort but he will murder anyone in his way of food Jon included. He once strangeled the guy for not getting up to feed him

And that was year one garfield. I'm suprised John's neck isn't in a brace forevermore from that.

So after getting plenty of candy we get our final musical number, as Lou Rawls sings for garfield that the one thing he's not is a scardy cat, my faviorite song of the special. I love his smooth vocals and the sheer weirdness of this section as every trick or treater garfield unmasks, trying to prove to odie it's just kayfabe bro is some sort of monster. I mean come on guys when else are they going to get out and party, get candy or go to an I hate my ex party. Let em have their fun.

So with that Garfield has a scheme as he notices another neighborhood across the river and a small boat and being a pirate decides to set sail. This goes as poorly as you'd expect as they soon get lost.

This is where the last act kicks in and it's a doozy: okay so for the last act the pirate stuff ramps up and it's why I couldnt' resisit including it. while Garfiled wearing a pirate costume is frankly enough to fit pirate month, Wiggles having about 5 minutes of pirate nonsense sure did, it's this last part that made it essential. It's an act dripping with atmosphere gorgeous animation and one creepy old man.

So garfield knocks on a house and decides when he dosen't get an answer to sneak in at night and wreck up the place. Instead turns out there's a person there an old man lit only by fire light alone in a creepy old mansion. Garfield's reactoin is an understandable

But the old man tells them to stay. He's played by tv and film vet C Lindsay Workman who just had a perfectly deep booming voice.

It's here he regails us with a tale: 100 years ago some pirates hid their gold swearing everyone to secrecy.. including a lowly cabin boy

Yup. They vowed to come back in 100 years to get back their gold. And tonight's that night. Garfield decides wisely to RUN RUN BITCH RUN USE ODIE AS A SHIELD RUN but our dynamic duo find the old man stole their boat and now there's a ghost in this home, and it's not better than being a alone. Since this house is haunted and that's not the way tehyw ant it garfield hides but gets found out in a quick gag. The ghosts.. look amazing using rotoscoping to give them this nice pale blue look as they search for their gold. It's a fun tense sequence as our heroes barely escape jumping for it and taking it to the river, dipping in the water.. only for Garfield to realize he can't swim. Sadly he hadn't learned a crucial fact just yet he'd learn later that year.

Thankfully odie has the strength of a mack truck and lifts him. We get a genuinely touching ending too: the pirates get their gold.. and Garfield, in a move he FULLY admits is out of character and casues him some pain... gives Odie his fair share of their candy, as the old man left it behind.. either after the pirates murdered him or he retreated back into the depths of hell.. or into a hosting gig s he's later shown hosting a pirate movie marathon.

And so with that button Pirate Month ends and so does this special. Halloween Adventure is possibly the best garfield specail, only slightly behind babes and bullets, a fun heartfelt and breezy thrill ride that gets halloween and garfield just right while throwing one small bit of heart in at the end that works. IT's funny, spooky and good stuff

Ranking wise...

Next Time: With this gone and september off what will we do for the actual halloween? Well as I hinted when you've got 9 lives you've got nine ways to loose as we look at BOTH major versions of garfield's nine lives: the original book and it's special adaptation.

[sorrowfulrosebud]

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙: in which Yandere Skarlet and her darling move back to Earthrealm.

𝕰𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: yandere

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: yandere behaviour, murder, changed plot lines lol, housewife vibes

The situation you were in was… peculiar to say the least. Skarlet wished to finish her life in the Netherrealm and settle with you in Earthrealm. You were definitely cautious towards the entire situation. The loyalty she had dedicated to Shao Kahn was fierce, but as you came to see, the loyalty bled away when she wandered into your room one midnight.

She staggered to your sleeping form, carefully stroking your face. You sleepily open your eyes as she stares lovingly at you. Your grip on your blanket tightens as blood is splattered on her face.

“Shh, my angel. I have found a way for us to be happy. I have hired an assassin to come and kill Shao Kahn. Upon his guard finding his corpse, we shall hide away and abdicate the throne,” she murmurs to you. Blood painted your face with each stroke as your face contorts in thought.

“But… where will we go? We can’t exactly hide with the Kytinn or take refuge with the Linn Kue monks,” you whisper back frightened. She shushes you again.

“Shh my darling. We shall leave and go to Earthrealm, where you used to live. I shall retire my status here, and live amongst you and the other mortals. We shall live as people,” she explains excitedly, pushing your head against her chest. Your heart starts pounding.

“I- I’m going home?!” You whisper to yourself. Skarlet’s claws dig into you slightly.

“WE are going to Earthrealm. I have it all figured out. If your home is still functional, we shall reside there. We can get jobs, and learn to live amongst the mortals. You will teach me how to live as one of you,” she explains giddily, letting you go.

“What do you say, my angel?”

It was incredible having a sense of control back in your life. Despite the fact that your old home was destroyed, you managed to find a dodgy apartment complex that asked no questions. You had to find a job since Skarlet had very… limited… social skills (and life skills in general). She was curious about everything in the apartment. It was honestly kind of cute when she jumped and went to draw her blades when the toaster popped.

Even introducing her to microwaveable meals was an experience. You found she enjoyed darker red meats, and wasn’t too keen on more vegetarian dishes.

She was not keen at all to let you go find work again, not in the slightest. You had to explain to her gently that until she can fully adjust to being a human in modern society, it would be better that you focus on working while she tends to the home. Skarlet was still moody about it, until you said that it can be her way of taking care of you. You explain that she can learn quicker by cooking meals for you both, and keeping the flat clean prevents illness. This perks her up substantially.

She even takes it upon herself to try to learn to write English/your language. She asks you to help her learn, so you bring back preschool books. It offends her, sure, but you have to explain to her that it’s better to start from scratch so she can learn quicker. And learn quicker she does; in the space of 2 weeks, she is filling out the workbooks miraculously quick and with 100% accuracy. She ends up working at a 17 year old level in a month, and after 2 she’s possibly more fluent in writing than you!

The transition for Skarlet from being royalty to a regular person is bizarre. She was so used to people fearing her and respecting her from the sound of her name alone, to having next to no one give a shit about her. She finds it humiliating when you gently correct her about something, going pink every time the toaster pops and she still jumps, or accidentally burns the food.

As much as she gets embarrassed, she adores seeing you thrive. She loves seeing you ramble about your day at work, but clenches her fist when you talk about your coworkers (something you learn to stop talking about). It makes guilt rot in her stomach; if she was struggling here when she came of her own will, how did you feel when you were taken against your will?

It takes a while to find a system that works, but when you do, it sticks. You wake up for work, give Skarlet a kiss as you get ready and go downstairs for breakfast. You choke down some slightly burnt pancakes, give her another kiss and leave. Skarlet cleans up, does some more reading and workbooks, then makes herself some lunch (usually a raw steak). She then busies herself on making dinner, wanting you to have a nice hot meal for when you came back. You come back, give her a kiss and eat dinner, then wash up and go to bed.

Skarlet never knew she could enjoy submitting to someone and taking care of someone so much. She loves seeing you thrive in something that you’re good at, and slipping back into a comforting routine that you can both enjoy.

She is still definitely a yandere. She keeps an incredibly close eye on you, and is still very possessive but she lets the reign loose a lot more too.