#and therefore i’d end up in a fucking fight

[tokidokifish]

bg3’s simply adorable party switching mechanic where you have to actively dismiss and then recruit members when you want to change them, combined with its fun new glitch where returning to the map with new party members will put them on the ROOF of whatever structure you’re in, has combined to get real old, real fucking fast

[haikyuubby]

𝟕𝟕 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 ; k. bakugo

"if they ever play, know i'm drilling for you."

𝐒𝐘𝐍: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝟏-𝐁 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭. 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨’𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮?

❀ - fluff, black! female reader

“hey dumbass, do you even know your left from your right?”

currently, bakugo and i were training in a match versus two students from class 1-B.

in this “game”, two students from class 1-A were selected to team up in an attempt to get two students from 1-B completely immobilized.

this specific type of training is…unpredictable, to say the least.

bakugo and i were currently trying to navigate our training grounds, cementoss made a small concrete town for us to train in.

downside to this was that the concrete town somewhat resembled that of a maze, twists and turns around every corner.

“i DO know my left from my right, bakugo. and for your information, i didn’t ask to be paired up with you.” i respond, annoyance lacing through my words.

we haven’t made much progress, and we still haven’t immobilized either of the 1-B students.

“well maybe if you actually listened to me and paid a bit more attention when we first started, then we wouldn’t be in this situation.” bakugo says.

during bakugo’s snarky comment, i powered up my quirk, using it to send him flying into the surrounding concrete surface.

this wasn’t the smartest idea, because we attracted the attention of our rivals.

“what the FUCK was that for?!” bakugo asks.

quickly, two figures enter our line of vision.

bakugo sends off two quick explosions, trying to distract them.

“hey, you okay?” he asks.

i turn to respond to him, but feel a sharp pain in my side.

one of my rivals had used one of the concrete pieces in an attempt to immobilize me.

“shit…” i mutter, running away from my opponent.

before all this had happened, bakugo and i briefly spoke about us splitting up in the maze if both of our opponents found us at the same time…which they did.

i quickly turn a corner, placing a hand on my side.

i’m not bleeding much, but the pain is almost unbearable.

as i’m assessing my injuries, one of my opponents finds me.

i quickly run, using my quirk to buy as much time as i can.

i smell an explosion above me, letting me know that bakugo is nearby.

“so were you just gonna be stubborn and fight until you’re completely immobilized or what?” he asks.

i hated how snarky bakugo was sometimes, but he was also so smart, and had a reason to be most of the time.

luckily, he already took down one of the students, leaving the rest to me.

quickly, i use my quirk and one of his explosions to finish off the last student.

i suddenly feel lightheaded, the intensity of the fight catching up to me.

before i knew it, i was out cold.

i wake up in the nurse’s office, with a pounding headache.

after i fully wake up, i see bakugo enter the office.

“the hell happened?” i ask, feeling the bandages on my body.

“well, you thought that you were invisible while we went up against 1-B’s students, therefore you ended up in the nurse’s office.” bakugo says, taking a seat beside of me.

“wait, so we lost against them?” i ask.

bakugo then turns to look at me, his eyes going from my bandages up to my eyes.

“fuck no. i’d never take a loss against those B-class idiots. i didn’t appreciate them hurting you, that’s all.”

“katsuki bakugo, are you saying that you…care about me?” i dramatically say, pretending to faint.

“of course i care about you, no need to be so dramatic about it.” bakugo responds.

i go silent for a moment, genuinely shocked that bakugo said something like this to me.

heat rushes to my face, feeling flushed.

my crush on him is stronger than ever at this moment.

“hello, earth to y/n?” he says, waving his hand in front of my face.

“you good?”

i look away from him, nodding my head yes.

bakugo then stand in my line of vision, making me look at him.

“well i’ll let you rest, just don’t do any more stupid shit like that. don’t wanna see you hurt again.”

after he says that, he leaves the nurses office.

i sit in silence, processing what he just said to me.

maybe he does like me back.

[ironunderstands]

These Aventurine, Topaz and Jade comparisons are getting out of hand…

As much as I adore both of them, I think it’s very disingenuous to compare Aventurine and Topaz’s lore and be like “but they are the same!!!! If people like Aventurine and dislike Topaz that’s just misogyny!!! and like… no?

Topaz’s whole thing is that she doesn’t know the extent of the IPC’s evil, and believes that what she’s doing is genuinely the right thing to do. Even if she never had a choice in joining the IPC, she (incorrectly) believes what they did to her and her planet is justified, logical and moral, and for those reasons she stands with them. Part of this is likely IPC brainwashing, as she was probably very young when she became an indentured servant to them, and someone living on a planet on the brink of destruction would likely view anyone who stepped up to save them as heroes (imo the IPC likely waited for the point of no return to establish contact so her people had no other choice to except).

However Topaz got best end of the proverbial stick, her planet and its people were deemed useful by the IPC, and didn’t fight back, even if in the end they were still exploited.

Unfortunately, we have seen through Boothill, Belabog and Aventurine what happens when that isn’t the case.

Boothill’s planet got bombed and people genocided because they had a resource useful to the IPC, but were unwilling to cooperate with them or hand over their home, so the IPC decided to eradicate them.

Belabog had a debt owed to the IPC that was ridiculously high and very unfair to expect them to pay back, and had Topaz not convinced the higher ups to give them some time (which she got demoted for), the IPC would have taken Belabog by force

That leaves us with Aventurine, whose story is in no way on the same level of bad as Topaz’s. Unlike her, he has witnessed and experienced firsthand the truly awful shit the IPC can do.

They took custody of Sigonia and promised to offer the Avgin aid in their fight against the Katacans, at the very least protect them from harm. (Sidenote, since the IPC held control over Sigonia, they should have stopped the fighting in the first place). However, they simply stood by and did nothing, resulting in the deaths of around 6,000 Avgin, with around 3,000 went missing (or injured, I don’t remember, either way it’s bad).

But wait! It gets worse! Aventurine when he was still known as Kakavasha referred to the IPC as “the men in black/the men in black suits”, and his first master says he bought Aventurine from “the men in black/the men in black suits”, likely mocking the way he referred to them. Therefore THE IPC TOOK PART AND LIKELY EVEN CREATED A FUCKING SLAVE TRADE IN SIGONIA

Look being made into an indentured servant isn’t fun, but idk personally I’d take that any day of the week OVER BEING ENSLAVED

That’s not even to mention how horrible of a reputation Sigonian’s have in the galaxy, one likely spread by/resulting from the IPC themselves, as at least on Aventurines planet they do not have the mobility to make a name for themselves. (Honestly it’s a mini theory of mine that Aventurines scam is what partly contributed to this reputation, and his status as a slave is something the IPC conveniently left out in their broadcast about it-)

But, you might be saying, didn’t Aventurine have a choice to join the masked fools and leave the IPC, isn’t he free now? And to that I say, it’s complicated.

Considering the amount of suicidal shit Aventurine has done while being part of the IPC, he clearly hasn’t been having a fun time as a member of one, so why does he stick around, especially with the Fools invite? Even if he was a slave, does that absolve him of the crimes he’s committing now? What could justify his actions?

Revenge, plan and simple.

This is going to delve into some spoiler territory for the end of the Penacony 2.2 quest, something which I didn’t feel like mentioning earlier because I’m sorry but everyone and their mother already knows Boothill’s lore. Now, let’s get into it.

Aventurine accepts Jades offer to join the IPC, and when he becomes a Stoneheart, the first thing he asks about is the fate of the Avgin, to which he then learns that besides him, they are all dead. You see, from birth Kakavasha was pushed onto a pedestal as the savior of the Avgin, but now that there are no more Avgin to save, his primary motivator in becoming a Stoneheart (beyond not being enslaved anymore) is gone.

So what does he do now?

Simple, try to kill the motherfuckers behind it.

That’s why he takes on such risky gambles still, and why he wagers and wants Diamond to promote him to rank p46. The higher Aventurine gets the closer he gets to his goal of taking down the IPC for good.

Which is why his meeting with Boothill is so meaningful. I think Boothill is going to “kidnap” him and together they are gonna take down the wicked bitch that is Oswaldo Schneider for his literal crimes against humanity.

Mark my words, an IPC downfall is going to happen, and I think Topaz, Aventurine, Boothill and Ratio are going to be at the forefront of it.

However, Topaz and Ratio (and by extension the rest of the galaxy) have to learn/realize the true horrors of the IPC (although I can sense Ratio doesn’t really like them, and he’s learned a lot from Aventurine, I doubt he knows the full extent of the situation or is in any way happy about it). Therefore? Topaz mental breakdown arc? Ratio lore? PLEASE??!? The IP3 compliment one another so well and god I can’t wait for that to come to fruition.

I really want to see a Topaz and Ratio centered story leading up to an IPC smackdown, and I think we are gonna learn a lot more about how shitty they are in the later half of 2.2 and in 2.3 when the interlude and Jades release arrive.

As for the aforementioned Jade, she’s gonna need a Aventurine squared amount of trauma or reasoning behind her actions to seem in any way sympathetic, because right now she just seems like an evil bitch (in a semi good way, I will always respect the commitment to the bit) who loves her job and would make Machiavelli weep over how hard her ends are trying to justify her means.

[igotanidea]

Not your fucking bussiness: Jason Todd x reader (club singer AU!)

***

„Where are you going?”

„Not your fucking business.”

„Oh! You are going to see her again, aren’t you?”

“Who?”

“Come on, Jay, don’t play dumb with me. You are going to see her!”

“And like I said it’s not your fucking business. Mind your own, Harper.”

This discussion was way beyond his level, therefore Jason just grabbed his jacket off the hanger and walked out the door.

“He is so going to go see her.” Roy crossed his arms, watching his friend leaving with a knowing smirk, nodding his head.

His little Jaybird was growing up so fast…

Two months earlier

They were tired beyond anything ever experienced before. Tired, stressed, barely walking more like dragging their feet on the ground, wanting nothing more but a shower and a bed. But – there’s always this kid in class who will ask the teacher for homework just before the end of the lesson. Or – in this case – the one Outlaw member who comes up with the idea of unwinding in the bar. 

“Come on, let’s grab some drinks, it’s been ages since we got wasted.” Roy insisted, clearly not bothered by the frowns and groans of the rest of the group.

“There’s a reason for that, Roy.” Artemis sighed, rubbing her temples “we’re too busy to-“

“We’re so busy we’re actually becoming boring.” Harper cut her off almost brutally.

“Hey! Who are you calling boring?!” The Amazon took a few steps towards the man with a fierce expression.

“When was the last time you looked in the mirror, Arti?”

“When I;m done with you I’ll—“

“Ok, okay, enough!” Kori stepped in between the two fighting friends before things escalated further “we’ve all had enough, there’s no need to add to it.”

“He’s such a jerk though!” Artemis hissed

“Yeah, sure. He and Jason both.”

“Hey!” This time Jason felt the need to intervene and object to the allegation.

“The only guy who’s actually nice in this group is Bizzaro-“ Kori continued, completely unbothered by Jason’s exclamation. 

“I’m bad.” Bizzaro grinned, clearly satisfied by the words coming from the Tamaranian.

“Yes, yes you are, big guy. So. I don’t know about you, Artemis, but I’d actually like to have a little bit of fun for a change. I think we deserve it.”

“I’m not going anywhere!” Jason exclaimed, clenching his fists. Seriously? Were those guys functioning in the same reality as him?!  Gotham was in constant danger, crime lords and criminals lurking in every corner and the Outlaws just decided to grab a drink and unwind?! The hell happened to his team?! They had so much on their heads and now – for some crazy reason – it felt like everyone was agreeing with everyone leaving his opinion as a leader of the team on the sideline.

And he did not like it.

“We are not going anywhere.” He hissed as if that was going to stop anyone.

“we are.” Roy grinned and Jason could sense the mischief in his eyes.

“we are—fuck! Put me down!”

Anyone who dared to look outside their window on that night would have been shocked to notice the infamous Outlaws casually walking the Gotham street with a very angered Red Hood being carried in the iron grip of Bizzarro, kicking and screaming like a five year old kid, very unhappy about such humiliation.

***

Obviously they could not just walk into the bar, dressed like their vigilantes self so the first stop was the nearest safe house, dealing with the quickest ever outfit change, patching up the most serious cuts and bruises. Only after dealing with all that, not even caring about looking presentable, the group walked down to finally grab the drink.

A plan that seemed to drag on forever.

Deep inside, Jason was hoping for a quiet night, praying that at this crazy night hour there wouldn’t be many people in that 24/7 club and he would be able to just snug in the dark corner sipping his drink and checking the surroundings for the possible threats.

And for once it seemed like his prayers were listened to.

As they entered the deserted place, eyes of the already drunk regulars landed on them, but one warning look from Jason made them stop wanting to cause any trouble.

“Oh!” Roy gasped, a little disappointed. “I was hoping that she would be here.”

“She?” Jason frowned

“You mean Y/N?” Kori smiled, “I think it’s past her shift.”

“It’s a shame though.” Artemis added “it’s been too long since we saw her-“

“We?” the frown on Jason’s face deepened. Suddenly he felt terribly left out. Who was this Y/N his friend was so clearly enamored with? And why did it feel like they were coming to see her without him?

As if adding fuel to the fire of his thoughts Bizzaro nodded.

“We no see her often.”

“Oh, right…” It seemed like his friends were leaving him behind and it hurt, but Jason would never admit it out loud, quickly covering his fears with a signature smirk and sarcastic attitude “Guess you’ll have to survive without whoever this girl is. I’ll go grab drinks, regular for you, folks?”

***

He already had enough, heading to the bar and ordering himself a beer, wondering if it would be rude to just take an Irish exit. His group, his friends just dispersed in the facility and to be honest, Jason has never felt more lonely. Sometimes it felt like this family he made for himself was just waiting for the moment to move on with their lives and leave him alone again. And the more he sipped his beverage, the more he worried that things would go back to the way they were. That he’d fall behind those people, who clearly had a way of finding their place in the society. Maybe they were only waiting for an opportunity to lose him.

And ironically, that thought made him want to hold on to his friends even tighter. Preventing him from leaving the club.

Jason shifted on his seat, turning towards the both his friends were occupying, his eyes scanning the place. The Outlaws might have shed the skin of the vigilantes turning into the normal humans, losing their usual vigilance, but he was not going to. If no one else, he was going to make sure those people he held dear (though if anyone asked, there would be very explicit denial and a fair amount of mean jokes on that) were safe.

For a time being, everything seemed secure, but it was Gotham after all. Things could change in a blink of an eye.

And Jason Todd was not known for letting his guard down easily.

Never.

He was always on the watch, careful, a little stand-offish.

And clearly he was right cause all of a sudden he heard the commotion coming from the side of the little club scene. His ears perked at the sound of man’s and woman’s voices, quickly catching up on the fact that he was trying to convince her to do something and she was objecting, though he could not figure out what they were talking about.

“Come on, Y/N- just this once. Just one more-“

“No way! I think I’ve had enough for one night!”

“Please… for me?”

“You want me to get a sore throat? I think I’ve already been taking in more than I can.”

Oh wow.

Jason blushed a little, wondering if maybe that was the time to stop listening to the conversation. 

“Please, Y/N, come on… there are still people here and they’d love a performance…”

Okay.

Now was clearly the time to stop listening to the conversation.

And possibly to leave the place, cause it seemed like his friends just dragged him into a den that was way beyond his comfort zone.

He sighed deeply and joined his friends in the booth ready to force some reason in their heads.

“Okay, people listen up, as a leader of this team-“ he started, meeting with facial expressions ranging from amusement (Artemis) through disbelief (Bizarro) and leniency (Kori) to the open mockery (Roy).

“Not tonight, Jason.”

“Okay, you know what, by all means you stay and have fun but I’m leaving and—” he started again, hoping that his so-called friends would ask him to stay and fight a little.

“Hey, is that Y/N?” Instead, everyone’s heads snapped to the direction of the stage and then a bright smile showed on their faces as they clearly noticed a girl who was far more entertaining than Jason at the moment.

“Y/N! Hi!” Kori waved her hand at the girl “would you give us one?”

For the first time in a long, long time, Jason felt defeated, slumping onto the seat, sipping his drink, not even caring to look into the direction of the stage. He didn’t care.

“Hey Jaybird, look up or you might miss something nice to your sore eyes.”

Huh.

The hell?

Oh…

Oh shit…

Why was his heart picking up the pace and beating out of his chest?

 “Yep, that’s her. And you’re blushing.” Roy chuckled and sipped his drink.

To be completely honest, Jason did not even hear whatever words were coming out of Roy's mouth. She stole all his attention. Making his mind go blank and his ear deaf and his eyes focused only on her. But even in his hazy state he managed to connect the dots, figuring out that the girl he overheard talking was the one his friends were referring to. So maybe they knew her? Was there any chance that they could acquaint him with her? But—this was the girl talking about taking things in and sore throat so what exactly was her job here? Was she a-

No.

No, no, no.

She looked so beautiful, innocent and sympathetic. Alluring but not in the way that would cause any suspicions about her profession. Not that the profession itself was something bad, but this was definitely not Y/N.

Shit, he was blushing hard and knew it, cause the heat he felt was enough of an indication.

“Jason?”

“Hey, Todd, come back to earth.”

“I think he just short circuited!”

The mocking and teasing voices of his friends finally reached his ears, shaking him off his reverie.

“Oh, shut up…” he muttered, trying to control his pounding heart and shaking hands.

“You know I’ve never really seen you like that. Ever.”

“Shut up, Harper.”

“Nah, I don’t think I will. The fact that you are being so affected makes it all even funnier.”

“Come on, Roy. Give poor Jason a break.” Kori laughed. “Our fella here seems to be falling and he hasn't even heard her sing yet.”

“Sing?” Jason raised his head, trying to process the new information and fit it into the puzzle.

“Yeah, sing. She’s a singer here. Wait – what did you think she was doing?”

“Nothing…” he hissed, looking down, not liking the fact he was the source of entertainment and a subject of jokes of his friends.

“Me don’t have an idea” Bizzaro smiled brightly and stood up from behind the table, almost knocking all the drinks down. “Me not going to ask her to sing.”

Before anyone could stop him (not that anyone actually tried) Bizzaro trotted to the scene exchanging a few words with Y/N, pointing at Jason, who wished he had his helmet on to hide himself. No one in their sound mind would point a finger at him when in his Red hood suit. But at the moment he was just a regular guy, unable to fight his real, a little shy and too sensitive nature showing. And also trying his best to not look in her direction.

Due to his hiding state, he missed Y/N lightening up, nodding at Bizzaro, saying something with a cheerful nod and climbing up the scene, fixing her microphone.

“Uh-huh. Looks like she’s about to sing after all. Bizzaro definitely has a talent for convincing people. And Y/n seems to like our little Superman -clone.” Artemis teased, playing on the strings of Jason shaking heart.

He wanted so bad to tell her something harsh and mean, but the melody and quickly following voice made it impossible.

His head snapped towards the scene, watching her.

Definitely in her element.

Shining like a star (no offense to Starfire), feeling the song, putting emotions into the words that otherwise would sound empty and without meaning. But sung by her? Somehow, Jason found himself in a completely different reality, where threats and strategic thinking had like zero meaning. All that mattered was watching her every move. And oh- how much he wanted to just stand up and walk to the stage, seeing her from the close up, instead of being forced to keep his distance, sitting in the booth. (though to be completely honest, even if he tried to walk his shaking legs would probably give up under him).

He was in trouble.

And his friends knew it too.

***

He needed to see her again.

And again and again and again.

Needed to meet her, to get to know her beyond that stage.

He wanted to be able to see her walking on the stage and think that this was his girl being a star.

To assure that whatever men were cheering for her by the stage, offering her drinks and sending her flowers she would only have eyes for him.

Those pretty e/c eyes that crossed with him that fateful night when Outlaws dragged him to the club.

He hated and loved them at the same time.

Because now he turned into a putty and was on his best way to become an alcoholic, using having drinks as an excuse to see her over and over and over. Cursing himself for not having enough guts to just talk to her, settling on watching her from the back of the club like a creep, probably scaring her off.

He had no chance with someone like her.

Not with his scars and baggage and stuff. And his other life. No way. This would only bring her trouble and danger and it was safer to stay in the shadows letting her shine.

But the more he attended her performances – be it on the previously arranged club shows or the quiet nights when she was singing only to the few half-drunk regulars and just for the fun of it – his heart ached for more.

“Where are you going, Jason?”

“Let me guess you are going to the club again?”

“Seems to me like you’re turning into a real party animal.”

‘You don’t like Y/N.”  

Teasing remarks were haunting him for the last two months and at some point Jason decided it was taking too much energy to keep pretending. Every time he was leaving somewhere Roy, Kori, Artemis and Bizzaro seemed to know.

So instead of explaining himself or telling them to leave him alone, he was just grabbing his jacket and leaving without any word. Making sure to only come back when everyone was asleep so he could lay in his bed in the silence and dream.

Dream of holding her hand, of holding her, of forming a real, genuine connection.

But it was just that. A dream. Some crazy fantasy that would never come true for him, no matter how much he was praying for it.

***

“Hi.”

She was standing next to him, extending her hand, and for a second he couldn’t comprehend what she wanted him to do with the fact.

“I’m Y/N.”

“I know.” He only managed to stutter.

“Oh I know you know. You’ve been coming here for the last two months, night by night. One would think you’d learn my name by now.”

“Yeah… um…”

“I’d like to learn your name though. Cause I for sure know you are friends with Biz, but not much more than that.”

“My – my name?”

“Yeah, you know, the title you’re being called on a daily basis?” she chuckled and her laugh sounded equally beautiful as her singing. “Wait, no, let me guess – is it Thomas? Or maybe Todd?”

Jason laughed despite himself.

“What? Did I guess?”

“Not the first name. Todd is actually my second name. Jason is first.”

“Nice to meet you, Jason.” She reached for his hand herself and in any other case he would just avoid physical contact at any cost. But it was different with her.

“Nice to meet you too, Y/N.”

He wanted to say so many things to her. How he liked her singing and how she made his nights magical and how pretty she was and all that mushy, touchy-feely stuff that she probably heard a million times before. Words however never came easy to him, instead sticking to his throat causing him to grunt awkwardly, mentally slapping himself for letting the silence prolong. He could almost feel her slipping from his grasp and losing the one in a million chance.

“Would you like to grab a very early breakfast with me?” he blurted, not really believing what the hell just came out of his mouth, already preparing himself for a hard no. 

“Yes! Thank god!” she looked towards the sky, putting her hands together as if to prayer. She was funny and he already liked it. “Finally someone smart enough to realize that after spending the entire day and half of the night in the bar, I’m not prone to having drinks. I’d love to grab something to eat. I’m starving.”

“A girl with an appetite?” Jason teased, feeling his heart flutter, the tension melting away.

“Yeah, I know, it looks bad, but sorry not sorry, I won’t be eating salad just to pretend to be someone I’m not. How about we grab burgers?”

It seemed like Jason was on the highway to falling in love.

***

The little diner was completely empty, giving them a perfect opportunity to talk and joke and tease and banter and bicker without hushing or judgment.

It turned out that they had a similar sense of humor and fairly similar interests.

Exchanging thoughts on books and their adaptations, talking about dreams and wishes and reflecting on deep stuff has never been this nice to Jason. It felt like he knew this girl for years, finding a kindred spirit in this h/c firecracker.

So only when the first rays of sunshine showed on the horizon and they were practically kicked out of the place, they left their seats going out being hit with the cold morning air. And when she shivered from the chill Jason did the unthinkable, reaching to pull her to his side and running hand up and down her spine to warm her.

And damn, it worked for both of them.

And damn she did not pull back.

And damn when he walked her home, to the door, and they just stood there for what seemed like eternity, like two awkward teenagers not sure what to do with the newfound, deep-level connection.

“So-“

“So-“

“You first.”

“No, no, please, you go first.”

“Um… Can I see you again?”

“Sure! I mean – “ she collected herself quickly “I hope you’ll come to my next performance.”

“Of course, but I was thinking that – um… maybe we can grab early breakfast again? Or – very late dinner, depending on the end of your work?”

“Very late dinner sounds nice…” she smiled at the ground, avoiding his eyes.

“Really!?”

“Yeah… I mean, I told you I always get hungry after a performance. So dinner always sounds nice and – and a nice company would be an added value…”

“So I’m an added value, Y/N?” he asked, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the slight trembling of his voice due to the emotions.

“I did not say it!” she leaned to kiss his cheek, her lips lingering on his skin for a little longer than necessary. “Now go, before I call the police because I got a strange man harassing me in front of my house!”

***

He sneaked into the house, stepping on his tiptoes to avoid waking up any other member of the team.

Laying head on the soft pillow, ready to start dreaming again, but this time a little more reality-based fantasy –

“Hey Jason, where have you been?” Roy grinned peeking through the door.

“None of your fucking business” Jason grinned back, happier than ever.

***

my dear @ladychibirae! - thank you for this requests, I really hope you like it, cause I sure enjoyed writing it. I just sat down and before I realised, there was a 10 pages story in my docs. honestly, it's been a while since I wrote something so long <3

[alexanderlightweight]

Hello hello and happy Wednesday!! I’m so glad you’re back T.T could I mayhaps have more of “a stolen heart” that you started last week? If you aren’t feeling that one then omega/omega Malec is also on my brain! Thank you for your hard work!

happy Wednesday! thank you, i'm very happy to be back <3

here is some more of it, I actually am enjoying this verse quite a bit so I was definitely feeling it! I got the second ask about it being either nsfw/sfw so thank you!

Lumine

a stolen heart

-

“Overlapping rituals—” 

“-a trap - Magnus—”

“ — bloodloss.”

Nothing makes any sense but the mention of Magnus’ name and the lure of his voice.  It’s a siren call to Alec’s fog-ridden brain, the reminder that if he wakes, Magnus will be there.

Despite his body's desperate need for rest, Alec still struggles to fight through the dregs of unconsciousness. Pain pulls a whine from him despite his best efforts and the heavy weight of his eyelids feels almost impossible to lift.  

It’s worth it though. 

Or it will be, once Alec sees Magnus again. 

—

“He’s not supposed to be waking up yet.” Catarina’s voice is calm, soothing even yet her tone does nothing to ease Magnus when her words are so contradictory.  He knows it’s a habit from centuries of experience, that keeping herself calm helps keep those around her calm and therefore allow her to help her patient more.

He just hates being on the other end of it.

“You used a potion, shouldn’t it be in his bloodstream by now?” 

They hadn’t used magic for a reason, they don’t yet know if the lingering rituals magicks are still in his system, considering he struggled to wake every time Magnus tried to put him under.

“Despite Alec letting me have as much blood as I want to use for tests, I still don’t understand nephilim physiology as well as I’d like.” Cat gives a careful hum as she casts a diagnostic spell, frowning at the translucent green image that appears before her. 

“Well?” Magnus asks, impatient and expecting Catarina to give him a chiding look, not for the thoughtful interest that has her calculating gaze turn to him.

“Say something longer, directly to Alec this time.”

Magnus doesn’t hesitate, he turns and looks directly at his beloved, a broken “Alexander” slipping from his lips before he can even think about what he should say.

Hazel eyes blink open and for a brief moment Magnus is treated to Alexander’s gaze of pure adoration and relief.

Then a magic as pure white and wisping as a cloud parts them, clinging to Alexander’s eyes and ears like gauze.

“I should have known it would be your fault.” Catarina sounds exasperated but there is a soft turn to the corner of her lips even as she summons another chart.

“My fault?”

“He was reacting to your presence, especially your voice whenever you talked and probably any time Ragnor or I said your name.  It was making him fight through the potion so he could be with you.” Moving her hands in a quick wave-like pattern she begins to set up what Magnus recognizes as a sleeping ward. “I’ve temporarily restricted his sight and hearing but I don’t recommend it long term. Hence using magic after all, but not your magic.  This explains why he kept trying to wake up every time you tried to put him to sleep.” 

Magnus tries not to preen, but he really can’t help how utterly smug he feels at the knowledge that even when this deeply injured, Alexander wants nothing more than to be with him.

“I knew it, instant peacocking.” Catarina is wrapping a small monitor with an orange gem around Alexander’s arm, “now this, you can dismantle my wards when this stone turns yellow. When it turns green, you can remove the magic from his eyes and ears. Alright?”

Magnus reaches out and lets his magic encase the gem, ensuring that even if he is asleep or out of sight, he’ll know if it changes. 

-

this was supposed to have more plot but Magnus just fucking loves Alec too much to not hover and Alec loves Magnus too much to not try to wake up to be there with him and Cat would just like to treat her patient without emotional interference

[queenlua]

your post about adding excitement to a story by increasing the pressure on a character was not something i’d heard before and i found it super useful. are there any other pieces of writing advice you find foundational and would be willing to share?

glad you found that tidbit helpful!

first, i’ll give my default caveat of “i’m just some guy on the internet, so take this with however many grains of salt you need”

plus my general caveat on… all writing tips/tidbits/advice? which is:

i find that, past the basics of “knowing about exposition/rising action/climax/denouement” and such, most writing advice ends up operating as a dusty old toolbox i open up now and again.  something in my story's not working; i’m not sure how to fix it; i pull out my little toolbox of tidbits i’ve accumulated over the years and see if any of the screwdrivers and wrenches in there actually fit.  the kinds of tidbits that are useful for me may be ACTIVELY DETRIMENTAL to someone else; someone who chronically overtightens their screws probably shouldn’t be told “have you tried tightening the screws more :D;;;;” or whatever.  and in particular what works for me is probably oriented towards genre-y stuff.

BUT, Y’KNOW, GIVEN ALL THAT

here’s the tidbits i find myself returning to over & over!

* three is a very powerful number.  i have a tendency to write myself into situations where you have Two Interesting Characters Doing Verbal Head-Games With Each Other, and that stuff can be tremendously fun, but it tends to run out of steam very quickly.  adding a third character to the scene combinatorially increases the dynamics available for you to play with.  so if you’re stuck, throw someone else in there.  (relatedly this is why awful dinner parties are Peak Literature™)

* if you’re writing a romance: put a sticky note on your monitor that says “WHY CAN’T THEY BE TOGETHER NOW?”  if at any point you don’t have a good answer to that, you’ve fucked up; rework the plot.

* this is a shlocky tidbit from the South Park creators that totally works: list all the scenes in your story, and then, between each scene, see if they are connected by THEREFORE or BUT versus AND THEN.

so., e.g., “the ocean levels in Tellius are rising, THEREFORE kilvas wants to migrate from their sinking islands and onto Serenes, BUT Reyson is opposed to that move, THEREFORE…”

that gives you a stronger structure than, like, idk, “the war ends AND THEN kilvas moves to Serenes AND THEN Reyson and Naesala get in a fight…”

you want it to be mostly “THEREFORE/BUT” and very few “AND THEN”s.  just a tighter overall plot structure

* each scene should accomplish at least two things.  the most common two things for a scene to do are “advance the plot” and “develop a character”; i have a hazy memory that when i first read this advice, there was a list of, like, 1-3 other things a scene’s allowed to accomplish?  but i cannot REMEMBER that list, lol.  but use your imagination; i’m sure you can think of another valid thing.

i think this is more useful as debugging/editing advice than upfront advice—often, when you’re writing something, every scene will *feel* necessary, but upon reread, you’ll notice your attention is drifting, this doesn’t quite feel tight enough… and you’ll realize, oh, ugh, i just had three scenes in a row that existed Solely To Hit A Plot Beat; why don’t i combine those three scenes into one, condense the action, and also make sure a character’s doing something actually interesting/new while i’m at it.

(i think i see this plaguing a lot of novels that come out of nanowrimo in particular.  i mean, not me, because i don’t have the fast-twitch muscle required to do nanowrimo, but when i read other people’s nanowrimo stuff, it often feels like it was galloping through a bunch of plot beats without bothering to do anything else interesting.)

* if you're stuck on a particular scene/chapter, stuff to try:

delete the current sentence and start over

delete the current paragraph and start over

change the font and reread what you've got so far

open the document on a different screen and reread what you've got so far

print the thing out and reread what you've got so far

open a brand new document and rewrite the whole scene/chapter/etc from the start (NO PEEKING AT THE ORIGINAL VERSION)

go outside and look at a bird for a bit

take a nap

shoot a whiny discord message to a friend about it (even if it's solely rubber ducking, this can be helpful) (though if you have any friends who are good at writing AND ALSO willing to put up with your shit and offer helpful feedback AND ALSO you're not too mortified by your writing dilemma to share it with them, that's even better) (btw, any friends reading this: if you want to opt-in to messages like this from me, LET ME KNOW lmao, i'm really shy on this front!)

if you're DESPERATE: open a new document and just write out, like, "Character X wants Y. Character Z wants Q. These are the sources of pressure on character X. These are the sources of pressure on character Y. I want R to happen but I feel stuck because of M" and so on, just... really trying to dissect what the scene's trying to accomplish? most often, the outcome of this is, i'll notice in that "thinking aloud" document that i'm circling around some central question that I Don't Know The Answer To, and i need to answer that question to usefully proceed. sometimes this will be painfully obvious in hindsight. (e.g., sometimes you'll go back to your outline and you'll realize you've literally just hit the bullet point that says UGH OKAY THEY GET TOGETHER SOMEHOW I'LL FIGURE THIS OUT LATER, and you're like, ugh, fuck, it's now later, why is past-me such a bitch!) but them's the breaks. (in particular, i remember getting catastrophically stuck on a "meet the parents" story until i realized i was... avoiding actually writing out the "meet the parents" scene... which feels "well duh" in hindsight! but, like, hey, in order to write that scene, i needed to commit to some specific decisions on What The Story Was About, the same way artists gotta eventually erase a bunch of sketchy lines to commit to the Lines They Will Actually Be Inking, and that decision point feels hard and scary and no wonder i waffled lol)

okay so that's all the super-specific-concrete advice. here's some stuff that's more big-picture but i've still found personally useful:

* i once went to a talk where a novelist said she doesn't start writing a novel until she knows exactly what she wants it to look like on the bookshelf. as in: is it a schlocky trade paperback or is it a beautiful hardcover thing with fancy paper? does it have IMPACT FONT for the title or something handwriting-y? how many pages is it? and so on.

in service of this aim, she never writes any of the novel (no notes, no outlines, no snippets of dialogue, nothing) until she has that image vividly in her mind + she can't physically STAND not writing it any longer. for her, this process allows her to be sure that she knows what her novel is about—not necessarily in every single detail or plot beat (though, often she has a lot of that in mind before starting), but in terms of "what am i trying to say," "how do i want the world to look at it," etc, and she's found through hard experience that, while it's easy for her to start novels, it's often hard for her to finish them unless she has that crystal-clear image in her mind.

i can’t quite do her purity-of-method (my brain is scrambled eggs; i HAVE to write down snatches of dialogue and such before i get started on something or it all leaks out of my ears), but i see a lot of wisdom in it.  i do a lot of prewriting & thinking & scribbling out little snatches of dialogue and such before i really begin writing. i think everyone develops their own little heuristic for when they can be reasonably confident they know what their story is about, so you should try and figure out what that heuristic is for you & learn to trust it if you can? (a common one you hear a lot is "i have to know how the story ends / what the ending feels like," which makes sense; endings usually have a lot to do with what a story is About. i know NK Jemisin mentioned once she can't really start until she's nailed down the voice, and that also makes sense to me—you read The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms and it's very clear that her choice of voice is a large part of what drives the story, it has a propulsive force of its own; it's The Thing that blasts the whole thing open for her. for me, i'm not sure i have a tidy heuristic, but there's a point where i've written enough snatches of dialogue plus bits of scenes that i've unlocked some core thing that i'm really excited about—i keep spinning out bits of dialogue and setting and such that are related to that thing, i'm so excited to see how that thing plays out across the story, i look at my outline and see only possibilities and wonder instead of connective tissue that needs to be filled in... and then, yeah, i'll know i'm cooking, but not one second before!)

note that the story is allowed to surprise me & change on me once i get properly started—my longfic changed substantially when i realized Reyson’s perspective needed a LOT more room to breathe than i had accounted for in the outline, and then changed substantially again when i realized the butterfly-effect-style implications that keeping Leanne around had for my entire storyline—the ending wound up being TOTALLY different than what i'd originally planned!—but like, in that case, i don't think my sense of what the story was about ever fundamentally changed; i just added two more huge elements that orbited that about-ness. if that makes sense.

* i think about this passage from Bayles & Orland's Art and Fear a lot. i'm actually not sure that advice is helpful for literally everyone—i do see people who somehow manage to write the same fucking thing over and over, for years and years, and never seem to develop their craft or make any movement toward saying something interesting.

but i do think most people are developing something even when it feels like "the same thing over and over," and as someone who probably tends toward too little output, i found it a useful reminder that returning to familiar forms, themes, and characters across pieces is intensely useful if it gets you in front of the keyboard again, so don't stress over novelty too much. (i find, if i'm still returning to a particular form/theme/character, it's because i feel like i still have some interesting new perspective on it that's genuinely worth exploring. if i have actually exhausted a topic, i'll know it because i myself will get bored, but anyone else's opinion is irrelevant!)

* ursula k le guin's steering the craft is more focused on craft & nuts n bolts than plot-debugging-type-things but i thought i'd give it a shout-out here because i've just found it so perpetually useful over the years. in particular we could all stand to read our stuff aloud more often; that fixes a lot of problems and she goes on about that in detail in chapter 1 haha

* oh, also, re: my "put more pressure on the characters" advice—you've probably already intuited this, but i think i found that framing more useful than the kinds of "raise the stakes / make sure every character has Stakes / Wants Something" advice you're likely to find in screenwriting workshops, because this framing feels like a more... abstract... way of talking about the same thing?

like, often those two types of advice are addressing the same problem, but when i start off thinking about "where is the pressure on these characters," i don't just have to think "time to heap more pressure on them," i can also, like. observe. where the pressure points in my work are. i'm not presupposing a solution. maybe there's a ton of pressure but it's the wrong kind of pressure. maybe there's a ton of pressure but there's nowhere satisfying for that pressure to go. it's very woo/fuzzy but yeah i use the general principle of "pressure" to frame a LOT of how i think about story construction; maybe that'll be useful to you!

* FINALLY, i don't have a nice packaged heuristic/tidbit/tool-shaped thing for this one yet, but i've been thinking a lot about how much perspective really Changes Everything about a work. your choice of PoV should be exceedingly deliberate; you should be taking maximum advantage of your choice of PoV at all times (what do they know? what don't they know? how do they think about the world? etc); also if you're editing something and you're noticing a lot of unconscious perspective breaks, that's a warning sign something's going badly wrong in how you're approaching the story overall—perspective should just be unconsciously correct if you're hitting stuff right imo

OK WOW SORRY THAT GOT SO LONG but hope at least one of these lil bullets are useful for ya! happy writing~

[pink-pavlove]

Big fucking spoilers babe

Okay I need to dump. I’m actually gagged Rosie is holding alastors leash. Like GAGGED! I would have never guessed in a million years. Rosie x alastor friendship has been popular in the fandom, ive seen it in so many fics and fanarts. Although when i first watched the series i thought the relationship between them was more of a friendship of convenience and mutual interest (cannibalism, power, murder) more than it was that they actually enjoyed each others company. That being said i still would have never guessed she was such an important character. Now that im over the initial shock lol, im pleasantly surprised.

Alastors backstory. First of all the way it’s presented to us; Alastor going to ask a favor from Rosie and being bitchy about it; is *chefs kiss*. I can’t tell you how much I love seeing this side of al. He’s vulnerable in a way I didn’t expect to see but also stays true to himself trying to smooze or intimidate to get what he wants. Love that for him! I loved his human version. Idc what ppl say about the mustache, *captain holt voice* “that mustache was ERA APPROPRIATE!!”

Oh no, he’s hot! Maybe it’s just cuz his voice doesn’t have the staticy overtone anymore (or maybe it’s cuz he just sounds angry) but his voice is HOT. Human al is a maniacal hottie and I will not apologize for saying it!!!

When Rosie laughs about him getting shot and killed the day after making their bond, and he goes “oh hahahahHaHHAHAHAHAHA! Yesssss… SO! funny…” all sarcastically???? Babe… I’m done. His character is so naturally hilarious they don’t even have to do too much with him.

I’m so excited to see more Vox this season. I love him deerly (haha… ha?) Him absolutely trashing the hotel and making Charlie’s life hell is a great plot point and I honestly want to see it the most. Besides a few quick glimpses of him, there was a storyboard with al and angel dust tied up, apparently Vox kidnapped them. 🥵 girl I’m too twisted to think normally about that. I’ll just leave that one alone….

All the scenes of heaven made me SO MAD!! I hate them fr. Tbh it’s such a great and intelligent commentary on our society and how we treat people we deem worthy/unworthy, (An arbitrary concept that is based in opinion not fact) and how we often let our emotions get the better of us. The way they immediately assume sir pentious forced his way into heaven, that it’s a “trick”. They refuse to acknowledge or even consider that their way of thinking, the things they have been doing, the beliefs they’ve based their society on, might be wrong. They would rather make it almost impossible for new souls (worthy or not) to enter heaven out of fear. Fear that the people they’ve oppressed and abused might fight back, and fear that there actually might be consequences to their actions (if one can be redeemed, than it would be right to assume one can also fall (they even have an example that this is already true, Lucifer!)). It’s disgusting to watch them act this way, but only because it’s so REAL! This is really how people are and it just confirms the theory that the people in heaven aren’t that different than those in hell.

I think all this backs my personal theory that people don’t end up in heaven or hell because of what they’ve done in life, but instead they end up where they THINK they belong. Sir pentious went to hell because he never forgave himself for not coming forward when he should have; for not saving people when he had the chance. So when he did have the chance to save his friends, and he acted on it selflessly, he in his mind believed he had atoned for his past mistakes. Therefore! Landing him in heaven, redeemed.

Further solidifying my theory, he hates it in heaven! I fully believe people end up in hell most of the time simply because they would have more fun there than in heaven! Heaven lowkey sucks. Having to hangout with LUTE? Or stupid fucking ADAM?? Yeah, no, fuck them! Heaven might be nice, but no drugs? No porn? Yeah I’d perfer hell too 😅🤭

Lucifer being a guest at the hotel is also an interesting addition I didn’t expect. The dynamic of the show seems much different than the first season, definitely more intense imo. Didn’t see much or any of angel or husk, (I think there’s a leaked Angel song somewhere but I haven’t found it yet) although I caught a glimpse of cherri bomb curled next to Angel on the couch and I’m really hoping that means we get to see more of her!

Anywaysssss I’m off to look for more spoilers, I’m finding all of the leaks on tiktok btw! I wanna hear you vent so come talk to me about it in the comments or dms 🫶

[arcadiabaytornado]

Live Playing Double Exposure First Thoughts:

A: Okay, I do love that you can pick Max’s outfit right away. I chose the rainbow sweater.

B: This sounds over dramatic but it was so intense to see Max’s face again. For a very brief moment I was 13 again watching Max wake up in the storm.

C: Am I insane or all the sounds in this game like…muffled?? I have my audio settings all the way up so it’s not that. Speaking of settings I also took the motion blur off and the graphics look so much now.

More Undercut

D: I’m already finding it super interesting that Max finds comfort in the destruction of old buildings after hell week. That could mean a lot of things but I’ll wait to see if the game tells me before I get analytical.

E: I love Safiya already. PLEASE let her be a love interest.

F: I do love the camera mechanism!!!!

G: Max lost her powers after hell week? That’s also super interesting holy shit. I’d love to know more about that, though my guess is that Max maybe completed her purpose with her power and therefore lost it? I wonder what that would mean for Daniel and Alex….

H: I’m trying to not to think of Chloe to much, but man she would have loved an old abandoned bowling alley.

I: Getting used to older Max is an adjustment. She doesn’t feel out of character per se, but it is weird because I keep expecting her to act like her eighteen year old self and then she doesn’t because she’s older now.

J: Older Max is already coming off as a lot more confident/reckless than younger Max. I like that change a lot!

K: I don’t know how I feel about Max making a one liner every time I examine anything.

L: Ah fuck. Is fate after Safiya or Max this time.

M: Did they really put the “We will :)” flashback right before making us confirm that Max and Chloe broke up. I’m going to fight Decknine.

N: Max is never beating the autism allegations.

O: I know people are upset at the “high school sweetheart” line but in context it seems like Max is trying to deflect the conversation to not talk about what Chloe actually was to her.

P: The texts between Max and Chloe were so uncomfortable to read. I know the storm changed them both, but….i don’t know…it just seems weird that Chloe reacted like that to Max wanting to move in with her permanently. I’m getting the vibe that their relationship was mentally and emotionally over on Chloe’s end way before it was on Max’s end.

Q: Max is ghosting her parents now and that devastates me.

R: Can I have a middle ground option on Amanda? I’m not ready for Max to have a huge crush yet, but I wouldn’t say she’s not Max’s type.

S: Okay, the Chloe/Victoria thing seems like fanfiction. It’s the only thing so far that I’ve gone “ugh” at.

T: The Vortex Club parallel is not lost on me.

U: I’m sorry but Max’s eyes look so bad…she also looks like she had a different model from every other character for some reason??

V: I’m just going for it and saying “A date thing” If Safiya is a romance choice later on I’m going to be so mad. But that’s what other saves are for.

W: Hearing Chloe’s name is a jump-scare at this point lmao.

X: I’m loving Moses. He’s so awkward and seems really sweet. Which makes me scared he’ll be the killer because the LIS franchise does not let us have nice things.

Y: I don’t even know how Max is SUPPOSED to talk about what she’s running from regardless if she sacrificed Chloe or the Bay.

Z: I wonder if they’re going to give Max’s power a celestial explanation and that’s what’s with all the solar system imagery.

[asclexe]

need2 vent lowkey plz/maybe give advice idk im fucking tweaking

so here’s my situation: i auditioned at this local university to be in their play for 9-5 the musical (as well as a show before that that i am in right now but content with) and i didn’t know i got cast until two weeks the paper had been up and found out through some other people in the cast. for context; i am a white, younger teenage transmasc with an alto voice range. i put this on my audition form, that im an alto and yes technically i can look female but i’d really really prefer a masculine role because i am transgender (don’t tell my mom). i had my eye on josh, the mc’s awkward teenage son age: 15-18, voice range: ehh we don’t care as long as you can sound deep-ish he’s really not a huge role you also might be ensemble. i get cast for maria, a hispanic young and vibrant secretary, gender: female voice range: soprano age: 20-35.

i DO NOT want to play this character for a couple of reasons; one i’m not comfortable portraying a hispanic character or putting on that accent as a white guy because it doesn’t sit right with me, i’d probably butcher it and maybe sound like im mocking it to the audience. yes it is acting, yes there should be boundaries. two, i know i would be so uncomfortable playing a like. woman woman. because i am a boy. i don’t want to wear that costume and i don’t want to act like one when i fight everyday to be perceived the opposite. im just really uncomfortable with portraying a role like this, at least at this point in my transition. im not uncomfortable with the role in general, i think she could be quite fun only if she was casted better.

besides my personal discomforts, i can’t see it from a directoral or creative standpoint either. you have a limited cast and you’re simply filling in roles, but you also have a couple guys, including a person of color, that wouldn’t be too mad with some gender fuckery. oh, but you have a trans teen that’s female enough, cast him in a role he doesn’t look or sound right for and will be uncomfortable with. if i hate the character i am, i’m going to end up hating going to rehearsal or being in the show, the show itself storywise, my castmates, the director, that specific theatre. and i’m not going to play her very well, if i don’t want to be her and therefore won’t get to know her or be enthusiastic to. just ohh my god you should’ve casted me as josh fuck dude

and yes! you can’t always get what you want, i’m very aware of that when it comes to theater. i have been in countless productions and yet i haven’t had a big role or a role i really really wanted. i have yet to get what i want when it comes to theater, but i’d at least like to not play something i’d so obviously loathe.

it’s a community, volunteer theater and i can probably quit at anytime but i’m not going to because that’s a dick move. and i know i’m probably being really dramatic but shit dude i cant fucking do this anymore. any1 have any ideas thanks LOL i guess i could talk to my director but i dont want to seem ungrateful. or i could just suck it up and hate every second of it. yea rehearsals start next monday

[li-nox]

Aaaaand we’re back for another 911 Budd(ie) Watch with @bexfangirlforlife (yeay)! — I feel you in some way, btw: Already knowing what’s going on with the show kinda feels like part of the ‘fan from abbroad’ experience. Still, I could do without all the fist fights — make me watch it with like a week of ‘mentally prepping’ sometimes 😅

So here we go: Linox 8×12 First Watch

“Something tells me something's gonna happens tonight” — it’s always the choice of music! SPN fellas know that. Dispatch isn’t introduced as chaotic and loud as usual. My guess would’ve been either that dream thing or that Maddie’s gonna have a breakdown or something 🫣 Oh my god, the way she instinctively reaches for Chimney 🥺🥺🥹 Wait, five weeks?! Five weeks and you’re talking like it’s nothing? [A/N: And there it is, the voice crack!)

Okay, Eddie seems a bit spooked by the stuffed animal heads and I feel him so much! And the way he says “Edmundo”?—Chef's kiss! 👌🏼 Ah, okay, was wondering how Eddie ended up in the Uber trap.... Still not satisfied, but at least better told than expected. And as for the bookshelf: If nothing, it’s at least a real mood! 😂 At some point you get so annoyed that you just want something to look somewhat finished and homey... And I have to admit, he doesn’t seem that “changed” as I first feared because of Ep stills clothes... The only thing that stands out is that (imo) Eddie’s basic physical tension is back to about the same level as in season two. Which, considering his life events, is a pretty convincing way of conveying his nervousness. I’m reconciled, even despite the choice of clothes (lol)

And oh my god, Josh, yes! Love how he’s the only one really trying to be “his usual self” and make it a little easier on Maddie that way 🥰 “Like four of us caught listeria there” I need him to be my gossip buddie!

Whatcha mean, obvious, Bex? 🤭 You talking about the “Tischlein Deck dich” (wishing table) with a free Big Mac menu...? But that’s s not an obvious placement </s> (snicker)

“Just a little piece of joy”— yes, ofc, stab that knife into my heart and turn it. (five seconds later) The whole PS5 story is emblematic of what happens when you're back in old patterns: Even though Helena surely thinks she’s nothing more but a ‘peacemaker’ here— all she does, is pushing Eddie back into that out-dated role she still sees him in: The overwhelmed, early 20-something father who somehow tries to please everyone— and therefore fails (“You know, he runs hot, especially at night”) As far as I can judge, Eddie (even Chris) doesn’t even feel like he has a real chance to take the PS5 back with him 😕 It’s maddening, because it feels like the last 7 years didn’t happen and he’s back to square one! But: Ramón is really trying to be supportive here (“You don’t have to buy his love, you already have it”) *sigh* Give your boy a real hug, goddammit!

“A year?!” The devastation in Buck's voice sums it up. Dear Go—Chuck Shurly! Am just briefly past the “God’s writing his memoirs” parts, which makes your "let me get in on the gay firefighter show now’ line sound even sweeter to my ears, Bex (ha!) And then his name is Smith, a fucking common name, as if Chuck just wanted to play another round of “I’m mortal” 🤣 That wire though? Oi, we really seem to be spoiled when it comes to parking garages here— holy guacamole 🤯 “Tell me you have insurance”— Oh, Athena, who’s gonna break it to you?

(Not my cat running across my laptop and cell phone—c’mon, Nals! 🐈)

Anyway (cough) While I absolutely get (and feel) that cringe factor, I feel for Eddie so much!! Dunno, it’s that little moment when you realize just how lonely he really is 😬🥺 Actually, he'd be the kind of driver I’d normally consider talk to... Still, gotta fast this forward—(shiver) But it’s good to see him back with his kid! And someone send that girl a flower bouquet for that no-coffee-advise, please, thanks!

“Appreciate you, Buck!” First time I remember him actually say that and he’s hundreds miles away 🥺🥺 Oh boy! [A/N: And Chris has grown so much, in more than one way—Eddie really needed to hear that he’s still proud of him.]

Okay, can we take a minute and salute for that amazing Momma Thena talk? She’s got all her kids backs! #boom

[darklight-owl]

Okok. Might be a long ramble here but I cannot see Desclark working as a relationship really in the way Desran would be

Cause Desran works under the assumption that Des is using Randall, and that Randall is infatuated/ genuinely in love with Des. But des doesn’t give a fuck about him or what happens, because at the end of the day he doesn’t care. Randall is a means to an end. I can see them sleeping together but that’s bc Des sees it as a way to get closer to him. Kind of cat and mouse type beat to keep him hooked as an addition to the whole revenge plot.

But I cannot see Desclark working as a romantic or sexual relationship. It’s more like a fucked up kinda codependency to me. I can’t see Des falling in love or trying to sleep with Clark, and I don’t see them even like. Kissing or anything unless they were both very VERY drunk or something. And no matter what I don’t see Clark intentionally or knowingly cheating on Brenda, or even thinking about it. I’d imagine he would feel sick even thinking about it

Alright. Thoughts on how it works on both sides.

Desmond is pretty deprived of intimacy. He’s got Raymond, but it’s a working relationship. He’s essentially alone in the emotional support and needs catagory, because even though Raymond would be there when needed, Des wouldn’t let himself be that vulnerable. And I also don’t see him as particularly affectionate (I think he’d get embarrassed asking for it). Thus in the physical department he’s touch deprived too (dead wife rip). As far as we know he doesn’t have too many close friends (Raymond doesn’t count.) and people like to feel needed! It’s a nice thing! And des already has his whole I Feel Superior To Other People Intellectually thing.

On Clark’s side. His wife is gone. His butler is gone. His friend is dead. His son isn’t speaking to him. I believe it’s said that he doesn’t go out often (in a conversation with an npc. Might be making that up tho). Like yeah he has Beth but she’s his maid. She’s not there in the way that he needs her (though I think she would be! She gives Rosa vibes.) guy who is all alone with no support system. Emotionally he’s fucked over. And he had nowhere to vent his feelings because he can’t tell anyone. He’s being threatened by Des for months on end. But in a Desclark scenario I imagine it becomes something like Stockholm syndrome (I touch on this just a little in GS but. Not in the way I want to go into it). It’s not that he’s in love with des, but that he’s internalized a lot of what Des has said (that it’s his fault, that he just has to keep quiet, that he can’t talk to anyone, etc). So to him it becomes Less Bad. Descole only threatens him when he disobeys/talks back/doesn’t do what he wants. Therefore it’s Clark’s fault for speaking out. It’s always his fault, Descole is only keeping him in line. Illogical, yes, but it’s a way to rationalize it for himself. And most of Clark’s work during that time is just holing himself in the study and doing paperwork or something. Des takes care of evacuations and everything related to the specter, so that’s some worry off his chest. He views it in a fucked up ‘he’s taking care of me’ kinda way. And eventually he gets kind of complacent in doing what Des wants just to not have to go through the threatening. All he has to do is sit and work and not talk to anyone and he’ll be fine! But yes, that means Des is the Only Person He Can Talk To. Fucked up sort of attachment forms to Descole. Yes he’s impersonating his butler, but Des provides him meals and cleans up and does things to take care of him! Des cares! Clark is shown to display fauning responses (though he doesn’t have much else choice) to Des (getting Hershel’s help, and during the episode of them talking). His method to protect himself isn’t to fight or to run away, but to appease the threat.

And I’d imagine des ends up feeling a bit of sympathy for him. An archaeologist with no family or emotionally support system does sound kinda familiar huh. And he ends up feeling bad for doing all of this to him (he can recognize that part at least. That Clark’s spiraling has a lot to do with his own actions and behavior, and that intentionally or not he’s sort of conditioned Clark to just take what he’s given.

I don’t think they’d even get too affectionate and they sure as hell wouldn’t be really romantic lovey dovey or whatever, but I think they’d take care of each other in the way that they can. Clark worries about Des when he notices it’s been a while without him (then gets upset with himself for caring) and des continues his duties as a butler (and if it’s more than just pretending, who’s to say?)

I think it would hit particularly hard for Clark without Descole around. I think Des could quickly move on (albeit missing the intimacy that comes with a close relationship), but shit like that would Fuck Someone Up. I explore this a lot in GS, that Clark has become used to Descole doing things for him. Enough so that he finds it difficult to regain his autonomy. He’s used to having everything decided for him, that all he has to do is obey and everything is fine, but with Descole gone he’s shoved into Being A Person and Being A Mayor all over again. But now he doesn’t have a guide. He doesn’t have anyone to tell him what to do. And no one knows what it was like to be in that situation, and he feels guilt for being upset when his wife and butler were literally kidnapped for months on end. Who gave him the right to miss the guy that hurt him so much?

Anyways. Yeah. Those are my thoughts on Desclark.

OHHHHH MY GODDDDD YES!!!!!!! THEY REALLY ONLY HAVE EACH OTHER TO ACTUALLY TALK TO DON'T THEY-

God I love this sm actually. Like Clark starting to rely on Des and believing the bullshit manipulative stuff he tells him. Des kind of seeing himself in Clark- DES SEEING HIMSELF IN CLARK HOW HAVE I NEVER THOUGHT OF THAT JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. Clark having to recover from that Weird Situationship afterwards. Wow there's a lot of good stuff here omg /gen

[colorsunimaginable]

Bought by a Death Eater - the spare dark au // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc // part one

summary // Melisa Alder is an American witch caught in the Death Eater's clutches after Voldemort wins the Battle of Hogwarts. The Death Eaters hold an auction of mudbloods and bloodtraiters. After no one bids on her, she thinks she's stuck with her original handler, Goyle, Jr., but a masked Death Eater buys her at the last minute. What are his plans for her? Will she ever find out who's beneath the mask?

this is a darker, alternative version of my fic The Spare. It's mostly going to be smut.

word count // 2.6k masterlist

warnings // mdni, 18+. this fic will fetishize/body worship a fat female body, so if that offends you, please dni. this fic will have non-con/rape elements, bondage, light bdsm, sexual slavery, sterilization, and loss of virginity. caution advised or enjoy ;)

part one //

My life is over. And I’m laughing.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, I woke up in a hospital bed at the Ministry of Magic. They’re treating my injuries and I find out I’m not the only one who has been captured. Nearly a hundred of the young witches and wizards who’d been fighting against our world’s greatest evil had been rounded up like cattle after our brutal loss. There are more girls than boys and as they prep us - cleaning and sterilizing us - it becomes clear what they, the Death Eaters, have planned.

An auction.

The fucking idiot who captured me, Gregory Goyle Jr., really believes he’s going to get some decent money for me. It’s true, I’m a virgin, a supposed extremely valued quality, but that’s where the similarities between me and the rest of the “Lots” end. I’m a good 5-6 years older than all of the girls. I’ve got bright pink hair, and on bad days, I’m convinced I’m actually a whale pretending to be a young woman. Plus I’m not even British or very pretty. 

Sure, statistically, I know someone out there has to like what I look like. But when I’m being compared to the others, the idea of being the preferred one is laughable.

My predictions come true when no one bids on me. I’m the first female lot and the grand theater they’ve commandeered from the No-Majes is silent, despite Ludo Bagman’s best salesmanship effort. No one wants an ostentatious American cow. I guess the lure of my novelty and virginity isn’t a strong selling point. 

Granted, the literal blood on my hands from killing a guard backstage probably doesn’t help either. 

Bagman tries to lower my base price of five grand - the minimum for virgins - but Goyle isn’t having it. He takes it upon himself to demonstrate my worth, starting with hopping on stage. He pushes me to my knees while he stands before me. As he fumbles with his belt and jeers with the crowd, I quickly put two and two together to realize what’s about to happen.

In front of everyone, he’s going to humiliate me.

But I humiliate him first.

In front of everyone.

He’s gotten what he wanted - my head in his crotch, just not the way he intended. 

Before I can figure out what to do next, guards grab my arms and yank me to my feet to take me backstage. I expect some kind of blowback for what I did, but it doesn’t come.

When Goyle finally appears, he demands to know why I was taken off stage before I’d been sold. Yaxley, the Death Eater in charge, only points out the obvious. No one made a bid. Therefore, they aren’t going to waste time on me.

Eventually Yaxley gives in to Doyle’s annoying pleas, and agrees to let me go back out, on the condition my price be reduced by half. I was also supposed to wait until the very end. 

I listen as all the other girls get sold, their galleon numbers in the thousands. Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley’s are in the tens of thousands. I try not to think about it too much, because I know my worth as a person isn’t tied to physical money, but it still gets to me. I’ve basically been put on clearance.  All I can do is sit and spiral into self loathing while I wait until the end. 

When it’s finally my turn again, they bring me out to the half-filled, steadily emptying theater. The main event is over so no one’s really even listening to Bagman’s sales pitch.

And again, no one makes a bid. 

By this point, my self worth is on the floor in the orchestra pit.

I can tell Goyle is scrambling for what to do with me. His get rich quick scheme hasn’t worked and I’ve become a burden. He binds my wrists together in front of me and guides me to the opulent lobby. He’s muttering curses and threats while we wait in line for the floo. I find him pretty easy to tune out since it’s obvious he’s still a teenager and there’s no way he’s an actual threat to me. Especially once this damn magic suppression potion wears off. I’m relieved to not have been bought by anyone else. Maybe I’ll be able to find a way to escape. 

My eyes catch on a group of Death Eaters huddling by the main door. Some of the metallic masks are clearly meant to be scary, but they’re so elaborate they look more silly than threatening. The ones that really unnerve me are the simple, expressionless ones. With magic, the empty eye and mouth holes are pitch black and bottomless. 

My focus centers on one such mask. In that group he stands taller than all the rest. His black robes look militaristic right down to the calf-high boots on his feet. His companions have their heads huddled near and their indistinct whispers add to the solemn hum to the room. This Death Eater appears to be half- listening to this conversation, his mask partially turned towards the window. 

Goyle steals my attention when he pulls me forward, his foul breath close to my ear. “I ‘spose I’m the one that gets to break you in, don’t I?”

I silently huff as he keeps rattling on. My eyes go back to that tall Death Eater and I freeze.

He’s looking right at me. Like, I can see the entirety of his mask as he stares over his companion’s head.

I blink and look around me, checking to make sure it’s me, and not someone else he’s staring at. But when I peek back, he’s not even looking at me anymore. 

We’re two people away from our turn for the Floo when the masked Death Eaters all cut in line. I happen to glance back at where they’d been meeting and my heart skips a beat when that same Death Eater is still standing there, all by himself. 

Still looking right at me.

I pretend I didn’t just look back and make direct eye-to-empty socket contact with him and step towards the fire before Goyle does when it’s our turn next. It’s just the three of us in the lobby at this point.

Goyle reaches his hand into the Floo powder pot on a pedestal next to the fireplace just as a gloved hand comes down heavy on his shoulder.

And then he’s suddenly there. God, standing next to him, he feels so much taller than me, and I’m not short at 5’8”. 

“What do you want?” Goyle grumbles, seeming annoyed that this guy is bothering him. He hasn’t said a word and yet Goyle clearly knows who he is.

The masked man slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out a small bag of what sounds like coins and tosses it to Goyle. The boy fumbles it and it falls to the floor. While he’s picking it up, the Death Eater places a heavy hand on my own shoulder and maneuvers me so he’s standing between me and Goyle.

Maybe Goyle’s not a complete idiot because he understands what the man wants before I do.

He glares up at him. “You can’t be serious. Like, this has to be a joke. There’s no more than 50 galleons in here.”

… Fifty galleons? I immediately want to cry, so I take a sudden sharp breath, but the exhale is noticeably shakey. I keep going until I’m not on the verge of a freak out.

The man just stays silent, staring at him. 

Goyle looks between me and him briefly before deciding a plan of action. “Alright, we’ll find a room. Fifty’s enough for a blowie I think -”

The man shoves Goyle backward and he almost falls into the fire. I guess that’s his answer.

He turns me to face him and produces some rope with a loop on one end. He hangs the rope around my neck, pulling the long end through the loop, and I feel it tighten against my throat immediately. The harder he pulls, the tighter it is. 

Shady transaction over, the man turns for the door, leash in hand, and I’m forced to follow him or get strangled. Goyle starts to protest, but one look from the Death Eater over his shoulder shuts him up real quick.

~*~

My new owner leads me out into the night. We’re somewhere in London, and it’s so late the streets are empty. Which is good, because the last thing I want is a continuing audience to this nightmare. 

The asshole has longer legs than me and that means he’s taking strides I could never dream of matching. My thighs have always been monstrously thick and the friction always slows me down, especially right now when I don’t even have any underwear on. The rope around my neck is coarse, it’s fibers scratching my skin raw as we walk. I keep my hands clutched to my chest, a couple fingers shoved between my neck and the rope. When he finally stops, he grabs my forearm and pulls my fingers out for Apparating. 

We pop into a dark, overgrown yard. The man is quick to yank on the leash, pulling me behind him. He’s released my arm, so my fingers immediately go back to protecting me. He uses his wand to illuminate our surroundings and I can make out that this cottage we’ve arrived at is abandoned. Holes have been blasted through the walls and the thatched roof is rotting away, chunks of it already fallen. He leads me around to the back and shoves open a crooked door with his shoulder. 

I’d hoped that the exterior would just be a cover, a ruse for an actually decent place, but no, it’s just as derelict on the inside. He makes sure I’m inside the dusty kitchen before he magically shoves the door closed. The light from his wand reveals a particularly clean section of the tiled floor. If it weren’t for all of the dust and debris surrounding it, I probably wouldn’t have noticed. He crouches, tapping his wand against several of the tiny tiles. They immediately fall away, creating the walls and steps for a hidden entrance below our feet.

I’m dying to know what lies ahead, but I’m also fucking terrified. Is he gonna keep me in a fucking dungeon?

After we begin our descent, the floor above us closes. We take the steps spiraling down at least two flights and at the bottom reveals another door. This one is heavy and wooden with a few serious looking locks. 

The final room we enter is what I’d call a studio apartment. A rather large, imposing bed on one end of the room, with a bathtub in the opposite corner and a little kitchen in a carved out nook. There’s a wardrobe, an armchair sat next to a small table, and a doorway where I can see a toilet. It’s lit with sconces on the walls, burning bright candle light. 

But the most eye-catching thing? The night sky above our heads. The ceiling is taller than normal for a basement. Which, in combination with the enchanted ceiling, makes the room feel twice the size that it is. Though I suppose that’s by design. 

After I enter the room fully, he closes the door behind me, and I hear the lock click. He turns me back to him and takes off the rope, tucking it away into his pocket. He seems to consider taking off the rest of my bindings before deciding to remove them.

I’m not sure what I expected him to do, now that he’s gotten me here, but just sitting in that armchair staring at me, wasn’t really on my list. His posture is relaxed, his wand loosely gripped in his hand. And he’s just staring at me, again.

All the nerves that have been building since the moment I laid eyes on him are almost at their breaking point. I can hardly bear to look at him, so my eyes stray to anything else, but I’m not really seeing.

“Strip,” he says, and my eyes snap to him. His voice is so deep, a perfect baritone. 

But surely, I couldn’t have heard him right.

His creepy, masked head tilts a smidge. “Strip,” he orders again, enunciating a little more forcefully when I don’t move. 

My eyebrows are together and my pulse is thudding in my ears, but I somehow find my voice. “No,” I say softly, my arms tucking into my torso. 

There’s an uncomfortable long silence as we stare at each other. I don’t move and he fiddles with his wand. Then he sighs heavily and stands to his full height. I can just barely see over his shoulder.

“This will be your only warning,” he says. “I do not reward good behavior. If you are disobedient and misbehave, you will be punished. Severely.” His cold, emotionless tone only amplifies the authority to his words. He doesn’t continue, leaving it up to me to decide my fate. 

Tears start to brim my eyes and I cannot imagine, after the day I’ve had, actually showing him my naked body. I’d genuinely rather face whatever punishment he has in store than that. 

Instead of words, I just shake my head, my feet automatically moving me away from him. 

“Very well,” he simply says, and raises his wand at me. “Crucio.”

The moment the spell hits me, I collapse to the floor, helpless to the pain striking every square inch of my body. I’ve been Crucio’d before, but every time there’s absolutely nothing to prepare you for it. By the time it’s over, I’ve curled up into a ball, barely managing not to sob. 

The Death Eater kneels, hovering over me, getting so close that his mask fills my view and I squeeze my eyes shut.

“No matter how benign your crimes, that will be your punishment,” he says. “Every. Time.” His hand suddenly grabs my jaw, turning my head to face him. “Do you understand?” 

Staring into his black, empty gaze, I nod. 

But that must not be enough for him because he rolls my head back and forth. “Use your words.”

To force them out, I have to swallow, and I know he can feel it. My voice is only a whisper, but the words are clear. “Yes, I understand.”

He stands, literally towering above me. Then his face starts to get closer and I realize it’s because I’m the one moving. Fully airborne, he maneuvers me into the bathtub, and the faucet immediately starts running. 

The water’s freezing at first and I gasp. Luckily, the cold clears my mind, numbing my emotions, and bringing in enough rational thought to slide off the mary jane shoes they supplied us with. I keep the white dress on. After all, they didn’t give us anything to wear underneath it. 

The water slowly starts to rise and warm, and instead of clutching my chest, my hands drift in the water. There’s so much blood on my hands the water has already turned pink. Because I’d… killed somebody. 

In one short week, I’ve been stabbed, tortured, kidnapped, half-sterilized, and my magic stripped away. And now, I’ve killed somebody. 

Oh, and I’m the property of a literal Death Eater. 

And, worst of all, he's fucking hot.

The absolute absurdity of that last thought has me laughing, like actual manic giggling. My life is over and I’m laughing like a fucking psycho. 

Thankfully, my emotions catch up with me and that laugh turns into full sobs. 

And that fucking Death Eater watches me the entire time.

[leonardepsilonchurch]

i wanna write a fic but i can’t focus for that long so i’m just gonna write a long rambley summary instead. enjoy.

after flowers died tucker and church spent a lot of time just dicking around bc they realized that sarge decided that 4 on 2 wasn’t a fair fight and therefore the reds wouldn’t attack so they just hung around inside with their armor off while they waited for their next recruit and this results in them roughhousing a lot bc they’re both repressed men with the desperate need to be touched by another man and so tucker gets a semi and he’s like you can’t fucking blame me i haven’t touched a woman in ages and church thinks it’s the funniest thing in the world that tuckers turned on from this so he keeps him pinned down and makes fun of him and tuckers like. man it’s really weird that i’m making literally no effort to get church off of me huh. this surely doesn’t mean anything.

and then for like a week afterwards tucker keeps trying to needle church extra hard to tick him off into fighting again but church just keeps getting annoyed and screaming at him until tucker pushes it too hard and they end up ACTUALLY fighting and church gives tucker a bloody nose and tucker wants to be pissed but church is like “oh goddammit” and starts cleaning him up and tuckers like uhhhhhh bc he has a little bit of a concussion and church keeps touching his face and when he leans his head back church yells at him about not leaning back with a bloody nose and holds his head facing downwards and tucker is like UHHHHHHHHH

and if before this church constantly threatened to enter tuckers sexual fantasies now he’s the only thing on tuckers mind. so tucker starts REALLY focusing hard on the one swimsuit mag they have to try and drown church out but all that actually manages to do is make the version of church in his head that’s holding him down and being mean to him a chick. so he starts begging church to get actual porn in the next supply drop because clearly the issue is that he needs some new exciting women to think about and church is like. yeah okay whatever.

then church is able to finagle some of grifs pruno by promising to hide it from sarge and they get wasted and tuckers like haha church you would be so hot if you were a girl… if you were a girl i’d fuck you…. hahaha,,,,,, church i wish you were a girl so i could fuck you and church is like. fucking okay??? and then tucker kisses him and he’s like what the FUCK are you doing dude and tuckers like. dude i can’t stop thinking about chick you fucking me. and church is like. yeah okay i’m gonna get you those porn mags.

so next shipment comes and church is like. here you go. stop being weird now. and tuckers like. okay haha yeah this fixed me (spoilers: it did not. the fantasies have now turned into fem church AND masc church double teaming him. oh also at some point i forgot to mention church and tucker talk about sucking dick and church admits that he’s sucked his ex girlfriends strap and also gotten pegged. so THAT works it’s way in there too.) and church is like awesome.

so church thinks it’s chill to start roughhousing again and one day he gets tucker in a headlock and tucker just. is fully erect about it and church is like. dude. are you serious here. and tuckers like. what do you want from me i’m desperate man. and church is like. if i jerk you off and you imagine it’s a chick will you stop being so fucking weird (bc tucker has been being weird lately). and tuckers like 😶😶😶 uh yeah. yeah. yeah i’ll. yeah. yeah we can. yeah okay. yeah.

so then they like. put on the tv and sit next to each other on the couch and it’s VERY unsexy but it does actually work a little bit like some of the tension is released. but now tuckers like. wait okay we’re uneven. there’s an imbalance. and church doesn’t care he doesn’t need to be jerked off but tuckers got it in his head now. they need to be even. and he has no ulterior motives behind this. so FINALLY church is like. fine if it gets you to shut up about it. and tuckers like. yeah okay this is fine <-defintiely not stoked out of his fucking mind for this.

and church is like. okay well i’m not jerking off on the couch like and getting cum all over my pants like a fucking animal (tucker) we’ll do it in the showers. and it’s definitely not weird that they’re naked in the shower jerking off of course not. and church is actually kind of mad because he just like yanked tuckers dick up and down but tuckers actually like. good at this? and obviously church is also good at this much better than tucker actually but it’s not like he was TRYING before and it’s almost like tucker is trying to show him up?? so once tucker finishes he pushes tucker against the wall like don’t try to upstage me asshole and jerks him real hard and good. and tuckers like. OKAY? THANKS? but also we’re right back to where we started now jackass. and church is like. oh no. what a shame. guess we have to do this again. and tucker is like. oh right. what a shame. guess we have to do this again.

this was supposed to have a conclusion but i ran out of steam. oh well. just imagine them fucking sloppy at the end

[shoalweedhence]

A Time and a Place - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 || Chapter 3

Warnings: Sad Ending!! Please note that even though the first two chapters of the fic are just pure good old fluff and sunshine and rainbows, this was written with a bad ending in mind so, proceed carefully.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x GN Reader

Content Tag: Fluff & Angst

Word Count: 16k (Chapter 1: 4k / Chapter 2: 4.5k / Chapter 3: 7.5k)

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

Chapter 2

Your feet seemed to be walking on a little cloud for the next few weeks, and you were almost certain that nothing could rain on your parade. 

As time passed and you kept coming to the shows, you progressively grew closer to the members of the Hellfire Club. 

As cliché as it sounded from an outcast like you, you wanted nothing more than to say ‘screw the rules, I’ll hang out with whomever I please, whenever I please’; though, as the world would have it, outcasts never quite got their way.

“I swear this is fucking bullshit!” You groaned, exasperated.

Your friends and you had been caught in the crossfire of a group of jocks throwing their food at a couple of outcasts in the cafeteria and had therefore been signed up for cleaning duty of the entire kitchens after school… And today, as it were, was a Tuesday, because of course it was.

Knowing how important your ‘Eddie outings’ -as your friends called them- were, both of them tried to get you out of the sanction, but to no avail. 

Tuesdays were usually a bit quieter bar-wise, so your friends felt a bit more at ease knowing you went on your own, especially since they thought Eddie would probably come down from the stage and beat up anyone who would try anything after you’d told them about the whole ‘arm muscles debacle’. 

Still, this was not just about you, both of your friends had things planned as well. 

“I’m sorry you guys got caught up in this mess too,” you said, looking at each of them in turn as you grew nearer to the back of the school, no one around left as the last bell had rung some time earlier.

“‘Nothing to apologise for, it’s not your fault,” one of them shrugged, a small sad smile painted on their lips.

“I’m just sad we won’t get anymore Eddie gossip for a few days,” the other nudged you in the side with their elbow.

Just as you were about to defend yourself from their gentle shoves, a voice called out to you.

“Ah, speak of the devil,” they commented.

“Hey,” Eddie said as he stood in front of you.

“H-hi,” you stuttered, blaming it on the shock of seeing him approach you at school, but you could hardly lie to yourself and his presence *did* still turn your nerves into a jittery mess whenever he was around.

“We’ll go on ahead,” your friends said, giving you stares full of insinuations.

You stared back as they left you, with Eddie, alone. 

“Are you starting a reefer business too? I didn’t know I’d get competitors in the market, especially not in our great Hawkins High,” Eddie said, gesturing grandly at the building beside us.

You laughed, shaking your head, “nah, your business is safe,” you smiled at him, but then, remembering the reason why you were here -which had almost slipped out of your head in Eddie’s presence- made your features fall a little, “we got caught up in a fight at the cafeteria-” you did not fail to notice Eddie’s eyes growing bigger at the mention of a fight, looking you over for any signs of physical pain, “it was just people throwing food at each other,” you explained, “but now we’re on cleaning duty for the rest of the evening, which means…” you trailed off, anger building up inside of you again at the injustice and you dug your nails in your palms.

“You won’t be at the show…” Eddie finished your sentence, his voice quiet, not judging your predicament, but mirroring the disappointment you felt.

You felt tears assail your eyelids as the rage you held metamorphosed into sadness, the cocoon of your heart opening up as the flutters of your sorrow escaped through your throat in a quiet sob.

A quiet sob which you saw Eddie notice, his concerned face looking at you as you turned away from him, trying to dry your tears.

“It’s ok to cry,” Eddie said, his voice gentle, “I’d rather you vent out your frustration than keep it in.”

You looked up at him, his features slowly blurring as you could not stop the incoming flow of tears.

“Come here,” Eddie said, opening his arms and you buried your face in his shirt. 

“I’m sorry,” you said in-between choked sobs and irregular breaths.

Eddie shushed you, laying his head on top of yours. One of his hands held your waist tightly while the other traced abstract patterns on your back.

“I’m sad you won’t be at the show tonight,” Eddie said once your cries had softened, “but you’ve shown up to every single one of our gigs since I invited you and, clearly-” he hesitantly brushed one of your tear-stained cheeks with his thumb, “you really care about what we do… and that means more to me than I can explain.”

You gently pulled yourself away from him, just enough so that you could dry your eyes and look up at him.

“I-I-” Eddie closed his mouth, the words at his lips stumbling back in his throat.

He leaned forwards, placing his lips on the top of your head, his arms just hovering around your waist as if he was expecting you to push him away. You felt your body freeze at the unexpected gesture and felt the heat rise to your cheeks.

“I, huh, should probably…” Eddie said, his own cheeks flushing as he threw a hand backwards, gesturing at the parking lot.

You nodded, and as his hands left your waist for good, you caught one of them and gave it a squeeze. Eddie peered down at your joined hands, then at you, a smile appearing on his features, just as you felt one do on yours. 

He squeezed your hand back, and then let it go, taking a few steps back without looking behind him, giving you a small wave before jogging away.

“Eddie!” He stopped on the spot, turning around, his face set in a curious look as he stared back, “have a blast for me, yeah?” 

He shot you two thumbs up and hurried back to the parking lot.

‘I guess there will be gossip after all’, you thought, watching Eddie until he disappeared out of your sight.

---

After Tuesday’s ‘event’, you noticed Eddie’s demeanour change; not when he was with the rest of the Hellfire Club though, just when it came to you. 

He would be talking in the corridors, his voice booming as he made a theatrical demonstration of whatever DnD character his players had faced the previous session, only for his eyes to meet yours, and, suddenly, he would go quiet, lowering himself so he would blend in with the rest of the group. 

Gareth, Jeff and Doug would always reciprocate your waves and ‘hi’s’, though, and that made you a tiny bit less hopeless about the situation.

But Saturday was fast approaching, and none of Eddie’s recent behaviours had given you any clue as to what you were supposed to do. 

Did he regret what he had done on Tuesday? Had he found you too sensitive, annoying, snotty? Would he even want to see your face at the concert? 

Those questions, ramming your skull and shaking your brain left and right as if it was a snow globe, consumed every second of your day. Finally, on Friday you decided to let your friends in on your predicament. 

Summoning a council, one composed of both of your friends and you, the art classroom which, thankfully was open that day, quickly got a makeover as a courtroom simply by the tone of your voice.

“I really don’t know what to do; he’s been avoiding me since what happened and I can’t help but think maybe it was just a spur of the moment thing for him to do, like he just wanted me to be ok, and- I don’t know, maybe I didn’t answer correctly, or I got the wrong signals or something but then he realised I’m just some stupid loser-”

“Wow, wow, wow, ok,” one of your friends cut you off, placing their hands on your shoulders and guiding you to a chair, “first I want you to take a big breath, ok?”

You sat down and nodded, your fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your clothes as you took in sharp breaths and let out shaky ones.

“Now, the guilty party has shown signs of being avoidant, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And all of his friends still act the same way around you as before, right?”

“Yes.”

“And, you still like Eddie?”

“Of course I do!” You cried before realising what you had admitted so loudly and threw your hands over your face.

“And he likes you too, so there’s that, now off you pop.”

“How do you know he does?” You asked.

Both of your friends shared a look and then shook their heads, looking unimpressed, and you thought you heard one of them whisper ‘peas in a pod, right?’

“He’s just scared of commitment,” one of them said.

“Another one,” the other replied.

“But he must have his reasons,” they said, “you should ask him.”

You sighed, the weight of the anxiety building up from this future conversation crushing your lungs, “but what if I do it wrong and he rejects me and I mess everything up-”

Your friends called you by your full name, stopping you dead in your tracks, “listen, you guys have been talking for weeks, you’ve been showing up to every show he’s done, he keeps performing a song that you told him you love, you’ve hugged him, twice, he’s kissed you, now it’s your turn!”

“But what if-”

“No buts! We’ve been rooting for the both of you for weeks, we’re not letting you give up now,” both of your friends put their arms around each other, forming a wall of authority in front of you.

Just as you were about to respond, someone opened the door.

“Oh,” it was Jeff, “hey, didn’t expect to see you guys here.” 

“The art classroom is just real useful for clearing your mind,” one of your friends said, glaring at you and you looked away.

“Tell me about it, it used to be the number one spot to hide eight-balls,” Jeff said, oblivious to the showdown that had happened just moments before he entered the room, too focused on rummaging through the leftover art supplies near the window seal, “you guys are coming to the show tomorrow? We’d love to see our favourite fans again,” he turned to the three of you, smiling; and you were certain his eyes stayed on you for a second longer than they did your friends.

“Sure.”

“Absolutely.”

Both of your friends said in unison and Jeff’s eyebrow lifted slightly as he kept his eyes on you. Straightening up your spine and smiling, you felt the commending combined stares of your friends punch your side as if you were a whack-a-mole board.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you finally said.

Jeff’s smile grew bigger and he placed whatever he had come to get in his pocket.

“Hell yeah! See you guys tomorrow night!”

And with that, he was gone like the wind. 

And you, were faced with two cheshire-cat like grins.

“I hate you both.”

“Of course you don’t.”

---

When the next day rolled around, you were a ‘perfectly trembling, can’t-hold-any-object-for-more-than-two-seconds-without-dropping-it, mumbling, worried mess’ -courtesy of your friends. 

Both of them did their best to distract you until the evening, calling you over to their home, walking around town with you and window-shopping until the clock left you no other choice but to drive to the bar. 

Somehow, the familiar scenery outside of your window as your friend drove helped calm your nerves. Some shops closed while neon signs for more or less dodgy businesses lit up. 

Seeing children and their parents head home with content smiles on their tired faces as older teenagers and adults came out to enjoy the nightlife felt peaceful. 

It took you a second to get out of your daydream when the engine stopped and you heard your friends open their doors. Following their lead, you stayed close to them, lagging behind just a bit. 

‘Come on, you can do this’, you repeated inside your head.

The bar was already a bit more crowded than on their first gig, and you took a moment to appreciate how much they had grown in such a short amount of time. 

The Saturday concerts always brought about a handful of drunks who, usually, were promptly kicked out when they got too rowdy. But as your eyes swept across the room, you thought about how the vast majority of people here actually wanted to appreciate their music.

You and your friends made your way to the counter; them ordering beverages while you looked at the stage, seeing all four Corroded Coffin members preparing for their performance. 

Eddie was kneeling next to Doug’s amp, adjusting the settings as the bassist tuned his instrument. 

Doug raised his head and catched your gaze immediately, he gave you a little wave and pushed Eddie with his foot, his lips moving but the words said getting lost in the distance that separated you.

Eddie turned around, his eyes scanning around the room but quickly focusing on you. Your breath caught in your throat as you finally saw the beautiful round brown eyes you had craved to stare into focus on you and not shift away as soon as they met yours.

Eddie raised his hand, waving. 

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, your heartbeat quickening in response to his gesture and you waved back. 

His attention was pulled back to the amp when Doug kicked him again with his foot and Eddie pushed his leg away. You laughed at their antics and saw your friends watching you from the corners of their eyes.

“Shut up,” you said before one of them could even open their mouths.

---

The evening was going as smoothly as anyone could have hoped. All the patrons had been tame, the setlist which the Corroded Coffin always revised a little, switching songs here and there to keep regulars on their feet, was an indubitable success if the whistling, thunderous applause and cheers after each song were anything to go by.

Your group of friends, who had spent the past three songs dancing and shouting the lyrics back at Eddie, was finally settling down in a booth in a corner of the room as the band made their announcement for the last song of the night. An announcement which was met with a chorus of loud disappointed voices, though not a single soul left the bar.

“Here it comes,” one of your friends called, tapping your shoulders excitedly and you rolled your eyes at them.

When you focused your attention back on the stage, and more specifically on Eddie, he was already looking at you. 

His fingers moved effortlessly along the neck of his guitar, his right hand plucking at the strings with the help of his guitar pick, his nimble fingers holding it firmly in place as the notes rang out.

Except for the few longer notes Eddie sang which he had to close his eyes and focus fully on to nail, his irises were focused on you throughout the entirety of the song. 

You were used to him glancing your way before starting the song, and occasionally his gaze would flit back to yours during the last bit of their performance, but this was an entirely novel experience for you.

Surprisingly, the nerves you had been feeling up until this point had completely vanished. Maybe it was the familiar ambiance of the bar, or being with your friends and having fun, that you could not quite point out, but when Eddie played his solo, eyes shortly diverting from you to focus on his playing, you felt as if you had just been mesmerised by a merman -the comparison had made your friends lose it when you had shared it with them later on.

When his head shot back up at the end of the guitar solo, he looked at you again, and a grin appeared on his features. You could not decipher if it was pure pride at how well he had executed the intricate melody, or if it had something to do with knowing that he held your full attention. 

Whatever the case may be, the Corroded Coffin ended the song in perfect harmony -as they always did- and you jumped out of your seat, clapping vigorously as other patrons joined your cheers.

“Well… Holy fuck,” one of your friends said, as the usual hustle-bustle of people leaving the premises echoed around you.

“Ditto,” the other one added.

You watched as a few regulars made their way to the stage and exchanged a few words with the band, their laughter loud and good-hearted. 

“Your turn,” your friend said, pushing you gently out of the booth and towards the stage.

“Wait!” You turned towards them, your back to the stage as you suddenly felt the anxiety tide rise, submerging your heart.

“What are you scared of?” They said, a hint of annoyance glinting in contrast to their mostly concerned features.

“What if I make myself look stupid? He was so cool and I just, there’s only so many ways I can say that, you know?”

“Thankfully that’s not the only thing you want to tell him, so you’ll have plenty of vocabulary to use, now go.”

“But-”

“He’s not going to eat you, and if he tries we’ll kick his ass before he gets the chance.”

“That’s not-”

“Or do you want to get eaten?”

“W-what?”

You took a step back, unable to process the incessant spur of complete goofery from your friends. 

Dealing with your own overactive, stressed out brain was enough to be a full-time job on its own, you did not need their madness on top.

Your back hit something and you quickly turned around, praying it was not a patron who might be three sheets to the wind.

“Shit, sorry-” you stopped as you were met with two beautiful round brown eyes staring back at you.

“No harm done,” Eddie said coolly, his voice a bit low and raspy from singing. A tone you were used to by now, but still made you weak in the knees, “Are you alright?” 

You blinked at him, realising you were awkwardly balanced on your feet, the only reason you had not fallen flat on your ass being Eddie’s hands on your arms. 

“Y-yeah, I’m fine, I’m ok,” you said, quickly finding your footing again, “thanks.”

There was a beat of silence as you looked up at him, a kaleidoscope of dark reds mixing in with the warm lights of the bar reflecting in his eyes.

“We’ll wait for you outside, okay?” 

You turned to your friends who were both smiling, nodding at Eddie before making their way out.

You bit your lip, turning back to Eddie, “sorry again, for bumping into you.”

“One apology was more than enough,” he chuckled, the slight grit in his voice resonating into your eardrums and you had to catch yourself before you fell into his arms again.

“You guys were amazing, as always; the new setlist worked really well,” you said, chasing any thoughts of desire as far away from your mind as you could.

Eddie thanked you, nodding, albeit a bit distractedly it seemed. 

“Listen, can we… can we talk?” He asked.

You breathed in deeply at his words, feeling a gargantuan amount of dread looming over your shoulders.

At the same time as you felt the overwhelming power of apprehension gnaw at your insides, your fingers tingled. Looking down, you saw one of Eddie’s hands reaching for your own, his touch light as he silently asked for your response.

“Sure,” you replied, hand wrapping around his own. 

His face brightened and he guided you towards a small backstage area you had never noticed before. 

It was fairly dark, the dusty boxes and floor seldom silhouetted by a dim light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

Eddie let go of your hand as he started pacing left and right a few times around the tiny space, which only took two strides of his long legs. Then he stopped and turned to you.

“Do you, like me?”

Your instinctual bodily reaction would have been to laugh if Eddie’s trouble-ridden features had not peered so deeply into your soul.

You leaned against the nearest pile of boxes, your hands behind your back as your jitteriness was inevitable. 

Because your answer was obviously yes, but there was always the possibility that he would reject you, and then… And then you were not sure how you would take it. 

You could always tell him no, see his reaction and backtrack, but that was much too convoluted, and you wanted to be honest with Eddie, you always had been after all, why change now? 

You could answer vaguely and get him to admit his feelings -or the lack thereof- first, but that was cowardly, you thought.

If he had gone through all the trouble of coming to speak to you after the show, facing you and your friends, alone, then the least you could do was answer his damn question.

You exhaled a shaky breath, “I do, I like you, Eddie.”

He paused, and so did you. The air was absolutely still as the two of you took the other in, your breaths the only sound in the room as a few muffled voices and thumping came from the stage outside.

And then, your voice found the courage to climb up your throat, asking for the one answer you really needed.

“Do you like me?”

Your eyes were so focused on any clue Eddie’s face could give you that you barely noticed him getting closer until he was right in front of you. 

You felt the familiar tingle in your fingers as he gently wrapped his palm around your own.

“I like you,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, “I really like you, I can’t stop thinking about you, I-” he stopped himself, bringing his free hand up to his lips and clamping his mouth shut, then it travelled to the bridge of his nose and he pinched it, “I like you so much the only reason I go to school these days is to see you.”

His confession rendered you utterly speechless. 

Eddie liked you, a lot by the sound of it. The adrenaline that had been pumping into your veins as the time for this conversation grew nearer was suddenly seeping out of you as vapour would immediately come out of a warm piece of coal flushed underwater. Your consciousness grew just a bit fainter and your free hand reached back to the boxes for support.

Still, one thing remained unanswered as Eddie stood over you, his hand warm in your own.

“Why were you avoiding me?”

Eddie bit his bottom lip, his eyes shifting towards the ground. He drew a long breath in before answering, “I don’t want other people to know.”

Oh. 

For many, this simple statement would make them run the opposite way, but not for you. 

Yes, in most cases this sentence was ���red flag numero uno’, but you knew better than to think Eddie and your relationship was anything but part of the average. 

From the beginning, Eddie had been well aware of the fact that your label as outcasts made you easy targets, at school, but also anywhere bullies would cross your paths.

And Tuesday’s events had been the perfect reminder of that.

Eddie had not been avoiding you because he was scared you would reject him, push him away, find him undesirable… he was afraid of the opposite. 

Being with you would mean having to withstand a perpetual onslaught of insults and food thrown your way. Eddie knew getting in a relationship with you would mean making you an easy target for all the jocks and popular soon-to-be-adult bullies. 

And his spy-level shimmying around school was just a testament of how badly he wanted for you to be safe.

“If we’re seen together at school, it will only add insult to the injury,” Eddie murmured, a strained hint of pain lacing his voice.

You squeezed his hand, his eyes focusing on you as you did your best to smile at him, “I understand.” 

Eddie bit his lip again and you were scared he was going to draw blood.

“Can I hug you?” You asked suddenly, wanting to take his mind off of the millions of possible scenarii running through his head.

Even in the dim light you could see the apple of his cheeks redden at your suggestion.

“You can, and I would really like you to,” he said quietly, opening his arms up for you and wrapping them around your shoulders as you buried yourself in his chest.

The strong and steady beating of Eddie’s heart as you rested your head against him helped in easing your own heavy heart. You knew things would get more difficult from now on, but you would not swap your relationship with him for anything else in the world, even if it meant a more peaceful life.

You pulled away slightly, Eddie’s head immediately focusing on you, “I can still wave when I see you at school though, right?”

He chuckled, a ringed hand coming to brush your cheek just as he had done a few days ago, “of course. I don’t think I could last a day in that hell-hole without it.”

You laughed, sharing that you felt much the same way. 

A few seconds later a knock came at the door, followed by Doug’s voice saying he was ‘sorry to interrupt but Jeff and Gareth were at it again’. 

Eddie sighed, his forehead coming to rest gently against your own, “why me?”

You giggled, loving the way Eddie’s response to your laughter was to press his lips against your temple. You hummed in delight at the touch.

When you opened your eyes again you noticed a hint of hesitance in Eddie’s gaze, “is that ok?” 

You felt your heart melt in your chest, the resulting goop feeling warm as it subtly spread through your body.

“I love it.”

Eddie was about to respond when another knock came at the door and Doug’s voice grew more urgent.

Groaning, Eddie gave your hand a squeeze before moving away. 

He was about to open the door when he turned around, “would you like to come to my place… sometime?” 

You blinked up at him, taking a moment to understand his words, and then you nodded.

“Okay, huh, hold on,” he patted his jacket’s pockets before noticing a stack of post-it notes on one of the boxes. He quickly jotted down his address with a pen he had produced from a fruitful pocket search and ended the paper to you. “Feel free to come by anytime, oh, well, except on Friday evenings.”

You nodded, remembering how Eddie had told you he spent them with Wayne, his uncle whom he lived with.

Eddie pressed another kiss on the top of your head before heading out. 

Slightly dazed, you took a breath before following him out of the door. 

You could feel your face staying flushed even as you said your goodbyes to the boys and made your way outside -your friends too keen on making you aware of it. Though their teasing hardly got to you.

Your heart was drumming against your ribcage and your fist tightening around the slip of paper safely tucked in the crook of your palm was distracting you thoroughly.

[echo-of-the-eye]

I really wanna get back into the dragon prince fandom. I kinda fell off after s4. Now I don’t hate s4-6 (in fact I actually really like 6!) but I do have problems with them. Mostly s4. (Heads up there will be some criticism of s4-6 so if that upsets you feel free to not read. I haven’t kept up with the fandom but I know opinions on s4 were really split when it came out. And unfortunately I didn’t like it very much. If you did like it, good for you! That’s great! I honestly wish I could say the same)

This ended up getting really long so I’ll put it under the cut.

I think my expectations were too high. I’d waited years for s4 and the trailer looked so good and I trusted the creators so when it came out I was really disappointed. I was already having a really bad day and was emotionally drained so when I watched it and it didn’t meet my expectations I genuinely cried from disappointment. Now that was an overreaction (and I really should have waited till I felt better) and on rewatch it isn’t THAT bad, but it’s still not nearly as good as arc 1 (which I love with my whole heart).

Most of my problems are with how rayllum was handeled. I know some people liked it cause they felt it was realistic and I kinda get it. I’ve heard arguments about how it makes sense cause even though Callum is mad, he still cares about Rayla and therefore doesn’t want to hurt her, so he gives her the cold shoulder so he doesn’t end up saying something hurtful. But I disagree. Even if it is realistic, it’s not DRAMATIC and that’s more important to me. I just wish they could have had ONE big fight where Callum gets to be a bit pissed. I also wish they explained where the fuck Rayla has been and why she happened to come back just in time for the plot. She said she missed him but what made her return at that specific moment after being gone for two years? (Also curious what people who haven’t read through the moon thought. Cause they barely even explain why she was gone). After ttm I was so ready for angst, it was such a good setup and then it felt like they didn’t deliver. Especially after the creators kept promising it would get darker and more mature (and then s4 ended up being the most childish season. Seriously, what was up with those jokes they weren’t even funny)

There are things love about s4 though. The fight between Claudia and Ibis with Ezran’s speech and Aaravos possessing Callum was amazing! But the rest kind a fell flat for me.

I like 5 and 6 a LOT better but they still suffer from some of the issues from s4. If s4 was done better I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have that many problems with 5 and 6 either. I liked how rayllum got back together EXCEPT for how CALLUM was made to apologize to RAYLA!?? For how HE reacted when she came back? (An entirely reasonable reaction btw) When she never apologizes to him for leaving in the first place!

I feel like there are also some pacing issues. I’m not qualified to talk about what they did wrong or how they should have done it and I can’t quite put my finger on what’s wrong but it felt off compared to arc 1. I think it’s mostly that it wastes a lot of time on meaningless stuff that doesn’t do anything for the characters while the actual meaningful character development gets rushed and they barely linger on the emotional moments. In arc 1 it felt like every moment and line mattered. Like you couldn’t cut anything without taking away from the story cause everything added something important to the characters. But s4-6 there are many moments I could go without (and that I actively dislike), again mostly in s4). Each episode also felt way better structured in arc 1.

I know a lot of people love arc 2 and 3 and that’s good! I’m really glad you’re able to enjoy it and I’m honestly kinda jealous. I wish I could enjoy it as much as arc 1 cause this series meant so much to me! It still does and I still get exited over new seasons, but I haven’t been able to engage much with it cause my interest kinda faded when it didn’t live up to its potential. I’m looking forward to s7 and I hope it delivers cause I still love it after all. It’s one of my favorite shows of all time. I’m trying to get a bit back into it again, looking through the tag and stuff cause I want to engage with it more. Unfortunately I do not control the hyperfixation so we’ll see how it goes. Chances are it’ll come back once s7 drops (which is in one month holy shit!!!)

[moonbreezes]

wait George Villiers was a shitty person? what did he do?

Hi! I’d like to preface my answer to this question by saying that I’m not a historian (I have a degree in linguistics and literary studies), and all of my information comes from doing a lot of research regarding George on my own, therefore there might be a lot more info on what exactly he did or did not. So if there is someone more knowledgeable about this, please correct me.

What George Villiers did, and, quite frankly, how his career had gone could be described by a line reportedly spoken by Queen Anna of Denmark to Abbot, the archbishop of Canterbury (and Pembroke), two people who worked together to install George in James’s bedchamber as a favourite “You and the rest of your friends know not what you do. I know your master better than you all, for is this young man be once brought in first person he will plague must be you that labour for him.”

As opposed to the previous favourite Somerset (Robert Carr), Gorge was deeply ambitious as he not only wished to enrich himself while in favour, but he also wanted to become an important player in the political sphere. (If I dare say so myself, I believe, that his time as a politician, would not be half as bad if he had received a proper training. Tho he was undoubtedly a shitty, to put it mildly, person) He knew that key to his success was the affection and love of the king as he could literally take everything that was given to him and make him once again the poor George that he once was. (I really do not want to talk about their relationship as it would take more than a sentence to summarise it). Thans to how rapidly he climbed the social ladder and received more titles and positions at the court which in turn allowed him to have actual sway in the country’s internal and external politics. Geore was also keenly aware that apart from the royal favour he needed connection to face his opposition (the ancient families of England). So patronage, it was something common (even now). He installed his immediate family at the court and secured them positions, (mmm nepotism), the marriage market was also fair play as George slowly but surely arranged marriages for people in his family, win-win situation.

Addressing his now growing family, his wife – Kate Manners, became one as he possibly kidnapped and raped her. (There are some rumours that he “what-a-surprise got locked” with her in one building so after that they just had to get married.) It was a marriage for the money she could bring, and the connections did not hurt either, a nice bonus, one might even say. He also made a deal with Edward Coke to marry off his daughter (her mother protected her fiercely) to his brother. It is said that she cried during the ceremony.

In lieu of the theme of nepotism, as he slowly transformed the royal bedchamber into a place of the de facto lawmaking. He packed every place possible (to an extent) with people what would back him up. For that he was notoriously selling patronages, titles, and land, especially in Ireland where law did not hold him so much. Literally whenever the parliament tried to remove him from power because of how badly (Imo he would have done much better if he had training and not just gone with the general fuck around and find out rule.) he did his job, and people were fed up with him. He started a whole 20D chess match with Richelieu which was pointless, started a few campaigns that ended with him often not paying the soldiers (I mean no one would stab him to death over such thing… right), the last one being a pointless siege that only made England loose troops and money. (He could have one that one, he was so close to it, but he had to celebrate the possibility of victory rather than making people sing papers). He enraged the protestant England by helping to offer help France with fight off Protestants. What else… oh yes, he almost sa’d Anne of Austria which just… mmm the flavour of historical silencing of women, misogyny and men who just have dick measuring contests because.

Tho what I do not believe, and what many line up with, is that he did not poison James (or at least wasn’t aware of doing so??) because I think that he would gain more from helping the king survive than just killing him.

Sources

Bellany, Alastair, and Thomas Cogswell. 2015. The Murder of King James I. New Haven: Yale University Press.

Cogswell, Thomas. 2017. James I (Penguin Monarchs). Penguin UK.

Lockyer, Roger. 2014. Buckingham. Routledge.

Stewart, Alan. 2014. The Cradle King. St. Martin’s Press.

Veerapen, Steven. 2023. The Wisest Fool. Birlinn Ltd.