#could not remember what i’d previously written

[lovlidollie]

reader cockwarming rafe😋😋😋

of course lovely ! hope u enjoy <3

“r-rafe, please.” you’re on the brink of tears, cunt so impossibly full that you feel like you’re going to tear. you’re seated on his lap, head burrowed in his shoulder as he continues to work, completely ignoring your pitiful cries. rafe is a very busy man, he has things to do and he can’t do those things when he has a whiny little brat complaining about his lack of attention. despite his multiple attempts at trying to explain that he was occupied, you didn’t stop bothering him. you’d simply gone one step too far, saying that you’d “go find someone else.” you knew you’d fucked up when rafe stopped what he was doing and had snarled a “fuckin’ brat. get your ass over here.” he’d pulled his half-hard cock out, and with no prep, had made you sink down onto him. that was half an hour ago. you’ve leaked down onto his expensive slacks at this point, coating them in your stickiness. you feel full and so empty at the same time, you need him to move. to fuck you properly. everytime you had tried adjusting yourself, a strong hand had crept up and held your hips down, going as far as slapping your ass if you continued moving. it felt cruel and mean. your lips are wobbly and eyes glassy as you beg for rafe to do something, anything.

“thought i told you to be quiet,” he snaps against your ear. “i still got work to do ‘n you wriggling aroun’ hoping for something isn’t gonna get you anywhere. brats don’ get anythin’.” rafe pulls your head back, making you look at him. the eye contact makes you shy but he doesn’t let you move, squishing your cheeks together to keep your head in place. “‘f’you had just listened earlier you wouldn’t be in this position, would’ya, huh? ‘m doin’ this f’you. doin’ this to teach you a lesson. gotta prove t’me that y’can be good ‘n then maybe you’ll get what you want.” he pats your ass twice, as if he’s encouraging you, releases his hold over your face and lets your head flop back onto his shoulder.

by the time rafe’s finally done, you’ve wet his shirt with tears from the lack of stimulation. but apart from your quiet sniffling, and occasional twitches, you’d listened to him. you’d been good for him. you’re all hazy, brain fuzzy and there’s drool leaking from the corners of your mouth, but you manage a dopey smile when he pulls you back up. rafe smiles back at you, and if you weren’t so disoriented you’d see how hungry it was, how predatory. “there’s my girl, knew you were down there somewhere.” he strokes your face gently, rubbing your cheeks. “see, baby? not that hard to listen, hm? did good f’me, didn’t’ya? yeah, tha’s right, sweetheart, did so good for dad. deserve a reward now, c’mon. daddy’s gonna make you feel good f’bein’ good.”

[boltonbritreads]

🗣️Eddie Munson Fic Recs

This is gonna have a sappy start before I get into the fic rec portion: but I just wanted to say that at the end of May 2022, I was finishing up my first year of law school. It was rough, challenging, lonely, and basically everything you’d expect and I was in a bad place and the fandom I’d been in was slowing down just naturally. I truly wish I could remember how I even became aware of Eddie Munson because stranger things wasn’t really on my radar anymore and whoever I followed at the time that started to veer off into Eddie-mania, thank you. In the two years since then, I’ve graduated and become the worlds babiest lawyer and I genuinely owe a lot to this fandom and community on here for giving me a fun, usually safe, creative place to escape to when it got rough.

I’m just hoping to maybe remind people that there are already an incredible, incredible amount of existing stories to read and talk about that deserve your attention and love if you’re looking to read some Eddie stories. Some of these will be fics I’ve recommended before but I’m going to try my best to pull together writers and fics that I love and think everyone should read in the hopes that someone like me who still scrolls through eddie tags looking for my nightly bedtime story can find something new to them to read! ✨

Previous Fic Rec list here!! some overlap but there’s no such thing as too much hype for these writers

@munson-blurbs I hope it’s ok but I’m linking Bug’s full masterlist here because I have genuinely loved everything she has written. There are blurbs, series, and special events which are all incredible and worth a read! Bug is currently still writing the “Living after Midnight” series which is my current obsession and features rockstar!eddie x motelheiress!reader and it’s angst and lust galore

@corroded-hellfire also sharing the Eddie Masterlist here because there’s so many fics to read!! As You Wish, Big Brown Eyes, Where the Heart Is are all incredible but truly there’s so much here to enjoy

@upsidedownwithsteve SIMMER!! jk I’m actually linking the Eddie Masterlist here too because I love them all but “I Want You To Want Me” and “Simmer” are out of this world

@pinkrelish The Yes Policy I love it, you love it, we all love it and if you haven’t caught up yet oh my god I wish I was you and could read these chapters for the first time again

@ghost-proofbaby I’ve previously told people to go read 24 Hours, and you should, that’s an order; but Maroon is ongoing! and it’s actually infiltrating my every thought so go on over and get caught up bc I think it’s safe to say things are getting amped up

@trashmouth-richie I have also previously recommended Honey, I’m Home because it’s a work of art but Ziggy has a new mini series “Crash + Fall” that I’m completely obsessed with the concept for and I’ve loved every piece so far!

@tiannasfanfic I just reblogged Conviction again but I genuinely am not exaggerating when I say I think about this story and these two monthly and try and find this story all the time to re-read it endlessly. It’s a really lovely story of unplanned pregnancy and two characters not realizing they’ve been smitten for each other the whole time and I love it

@carolmunson I’m sharing another Eddie Masterlist here because I’d be making this post far too long but Carol’s stories are all incredible, complex, and honest. “Let’s go, don’t wait” just got updated and I had to read it like 3 times last night because it was too good to just read one and done

@rebelfell I just discovered Sarah’s blog after reading the most recent “Frenemy” fic and idk what I was doing wrong to not already follow her and not have already read her whole Masterlist but I’m linking the whole thing bc she’s so good!!

@the-au-thor I also only just discovered Elle’s blog and that’s criminal but thank god I found Babysitting Mun because I am a sucker for rockstar!eddie and this series has me on the edge of my seat rn

@storiesbyrhi I’m sharing the Masterlist folks because I have genuinely loved every single story and series and I have read them all now (some several times). So many of Rhi’s stories have a wonderful warm witchy vibe that I crave and I’ve read Siouxsie and the Soulmates, The Cabin in the Woods, Our Patron Saint of the Arts, Vintage Reeboks, and Burning Yarrow (insert screaming fan gif) multiple times now

@heart-eyed-love this fic is the epitome of a soft, cozy, domestic night with Eddie and if you need a hug read this 🥹

@eddieandbird I JUST got caught up on Eddie/Tour Manager series and I’m fully obsessed and desperate to know how they’re gonna navigate this - for folks new to the story, Eddie and his tour manager accidentally drunkenly get married- what could go wrong??

@eiightysixbaby the scream I scrumped when I finished reading Princess Leia, and Other Wishes - look bffs to lovers is already my absolute weakness on this earth but then you had to make it witty and funny and FLUFFY I just can do nothing but re-read and pine

@superblysubpar I’m still obsessed with this addition to The Boy is Mine writing challenge and oh god it’s so good 😩

…and while we’re talking about it - here’s the entire The Boy is Mine masterlist with an INSANE amount of incredible stories to read

@the-unforgivenn !!! tumblr hates me and deleted this bullet (so if you already saw this post, no you didn’t) but And I Need You to Know is a proper novel! I can’t imagine how much time, love, effort, planning, and work went into creating this insane and absolutely incredible world but everyone needs to read this!! and then follow up with She’s So Cold bc I love it and I am so reader

~~ this is not the end nor an exhaustive list! I just wanted to put something out there now that I plan to build on because I know I’m always scrolling and searching for new things to read or old things to revisit ♥️ ~~

[spencerreidsreads]

He didn’t have to say it

Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

Summary: So immersed in your painting, you forget to take a break to stretch your legs. Aaron helps out with the pain that comes from it.

Genre: Hurt/comfort, mainly fluff!!

Word count: 1.7k

*based on THIS request*

AN: Hi! I’ve never written fanfiction of any sort in my life before, but I really wanted to give it a go. I’d love to know what you think, including any criticisms (I don’t mind criticism, I want to learn how to get better) If you enjoy please like, reblog and comment! If even anyone enjoys this piece it would encourage me to try again. Thank you so much

*also this is not proof read - I’m too embarrassed to go through it again. So please let me know if there are any mistakes!*

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ♡꘎

A flowing river of blue, the smell off wildflowers blowing in the breeze, and the chirping of birds flying overhead. And then… pain? No longer were you in a calm meadow garden, outside of a homey cottage. Instead you are sat alone, inside of your art room, suddenly aware of the pain in your legs.

You had been so immersed in finishing the last details of the painting you had started weeks ago, that you had lost track of time. You had been staring at it so intently, trying to look for flaws to perfect, it had almost felt like you were there. You hadn’t been at home just then, you were transported into your work of art relaxed and undisturbed within the canvas.

It was light outside when you began working. You remembered hearing the sound of people strolling the streets and children playing in the nearby park. Now however, the sky was beginning to darken and the streets were almost silent, other than the sound of the odd car driving past. The outside world was proof enough that you had been sat too long, without a single break to stretch your legs.

Had you not been so wrapped up in your painting, you would’ve remembered to take a walk or go for a snack to prevent the intense pain you were currently feeling. Aaron always reminded you to do so.

Speaking of Aaron, you desperately hoped he would be home soon, you knew the pain would only intensify once you started moving around, and you wanted nothing more than for him to be there to comfort you. He was so wonderfully helpful when you needed comfort. He was your rock and no matter how you were feeling, he always managed to make you feel somewhat better. He had researched the best ways to reduce the pain you often felt and despite how tired he may be from work, he always made the time to make sure you were safe and content.

Stretching out a paint speckled arm, you reached for your phone prepared to text Aaron to see if he would be home soon, he was due back to his evening. But once again he proved to be the best husband you could ask for, as not even a second after grabbing your phone, you heard the front door opening. Perfect timing.

The sound of the door shutting quietly, a bag hitting the ground and the locks of the door being set, you knew it was your husband finally back from the week long case he had been on with the team.

“Sweetheart?” his voice was soft and carried some tiredness with it, you knew this had been a tough case for him and immediately felt guilty for wanting his comfort and attention when he had only just returned home. You knew how hard he worked and didn’t want to burden him. So instead you decided you would greet your husband and try your best to hide the pain as not to worry him. Though with a skilled profiler as a husband, you knew this was wishful thinking.

When you went to stand, you hissed as an intense pain shot through your knees, causing them to buckle. Luckily, Aaron had come in search of you, having not heard a reply when he called out for you. Just as you were about to fall back to the ground you had previously been occupying, you immediately felt arms wrap around your frame, engulfed in the scent of your husbands cologne.

“Hey, take your time. It’s ok let me help you”. There goes your plan of hiding the pain. Aaron immediately knew what was wrong and slowly supported you to stand. Once you were fully elevated he wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace, holding most of your weight off of your knees. Despite the fact that Aaron repeatedly told you to stretch your legs to prevent this from happening, he wasn’t going to lecture you. You were in pain and he just wanted to bring you comfort, so he didn’t say anything. He just held you close and softly began to play with your hair the way that you liked.

The mixture of love you felt from Aaron’s care and the pain you were feeling in your legs caused tears to appear in your waterline. Aaron immediately shifted into gear, wanting to reduce the pain as much as possible, “how about we take a little walk hm? Just around the apartment. Give your legs a chance to stretch and I’ll tell you all about how much I missed you while I was gone?” You smiled and nodded in response through the tears. He always knew how to make you feel better.

Aaron didn’t rush you, he didn’t leave you to take care of yourself. Instead he lovingly wrapped an arm around your waist and let you set the pace as you walked out of your art room and into the kitchen. Though this caused the pain to intensify, you knew that in the long run it would help. So as you grimaced and slowly treaded through the pain, Aaron kept to his word and informed you of how awful it was to be away from you for the week. You laughed as he mentioned that he was caught looking at the picture of you he kept in his wallet by Morgan and he was teased by the team for the rest of the case. He told you that instead of ordering his original coffee from the coffee shop near the precinct, he ordered your favourite drink. It was too sweet for him and didn’t wake him up as much as he liked, but it made him feel closer to you.

As you approached the front door on your walk, near where he’d left his bag, Aaron reached inside and hid his hands behind his back, something grasped tightly in his fist.

“After we wrapped up the case I saw these in a store window and they made me think of you. One for me and one for you”. Aaron brought his hand in front of you both and opened it, revealing 2 key rings that looked to be a matching pair. One of them was a key shape, and the other a locket. You knew these weren’t the kind of thing Aaron cared for at all, in fact he found them extremely cheesy. But he knew you loved small things like this and just wanted to see you smile.

And smile you did. You looked from the keyrings in Aaron’s large hand, then back up to his eyes, a large grin on your face. You couldn’t believe the reputation Aaron had at work as the stoic grouchy boss. How could anyone describe this man (who was currently staring at you with a soft smile on his face and some tacky keyrings in his hand) as anything other than perfect? That’s what he was to you. Perfect. He was always thinking of you and you could not be more grateful.

“I love them” you whispered, Aaron didn’t respond, he just looked lovingly into your eyes and continued along with you on your walk to the living room. At this point, whilst your legs still ached, you found it hard not to focus on how happy you were with your partner. It was hard not to be happy around him. Your tears had eased up and had instead been replaced with a loving stare directed at your husband.

Once you had done a lap of the apartment, Aaron suggested a bath together to soothe your joints, which you quickly agreed to. He sat you on the side of the bathtub as he messed with the taps and added some bubbles, just the way you liked it. Once the bath was ready he held your hand and helped you in, slipping in himself afterwards, your back leaning against his chest. Not many words were exchanged, they didn’t need to be. You both knew exactly what you wanted to say ‘I love you so much’, ‘thank you for loving me’, ‘I’m so grateful to have you in my life’. Instead, Aaron softly hummed as he gently scrubbed away the paint from your body and placed soothing kisses along the back of your neck. You felt so safe and at home here within his arms.

Once the water began to turn cold, you and Aaron stepped out of the bathtub and he wrapped a towel around you.

“Your painting looked beautiful by the way” he whispered as you both prepared to brush your teeth and get settled for bed.

Despite being together for 7 years, he still made you feel giddy with his compliments. Turning to face him, a small thank you passed your lips. He was always so supportive of whatever hobby you picked up and loved to shower you in the compliments he believed you so deeply deserved.

The two of you soon got settled into bed and Aaron wrapped you into his arms, “how are you feeling honey? Any better?” he questioned.

Placing a soft kiss to his bare chest, you sighed in sleepy contentment before nodding your head. “You always make me feel better.”

“I just wish I was here more often for you” Aaron sighed. You knew he felt guilt about leaving you alone whilst he went away with the team, but even if he wasn’t with you, you rarely felt alone. Even at his busiest, he made time, even for something as small as an ‘I love you’ text or a ‘have a good day’ message.

“You’re perfect for me Aaron, please don’t doubt that. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me” you sleepily replied, meaning every word. He gazed at your tired face and drooping eyes and saw that you were on the verge of sleep. Aaron swore he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. He felt so overwhelmed with love that he felt emotional. Pulling you closer, he placed a soft goodnight kiss against your lips. “I love you sweetheart”, but you had already drifted off.

But even though you didn’t hear it, that didn’t matter. He didn’t have to say it. You knew. You’d never felt more loved in your life, Aaron loved you and he never let you forget it.

[fireflyinks]

karaoke and cowboy hats

colt seavers x costume designer/manager!reader

there will be multiple parts, this is part one !!

a/n : so so so much fun to write, and probably one of my longest and favorite fics i’ve ever written. i love colt and ryan gosling, and tried to add as many easter eggs from “the fall guy” as possible

summary : colt always seems to be misplacing his costumes pieces, which has him constantly coming back to the costume manager and designer, y/n. the two decide to hang out for once outside of set.

contains: this is just purely fluff and good vibes, no smut, cursing, “will they, won’t they”, part two will have more romance dw

word count : 3.7k

Working with Tom Ryder was one of the most difficult tasks one could be assigned. He was arrogant, narcissistic, and overall just a complete asshole. I had the misfortune of being the costume designer and manager for the up and coming film “Metalstorm”, and Jody, the director, insisted on the most cliché cowboy get ups imaginable, plus a gold metallic touch. Having worked with Ryder many times previously, I knew he would hate this. I had prepared myself for one of his meltdowns long before it actually happened, but it still somehow caught me off guard.

“What the fuck is this?” He stormed into the costume tent, causing me to jump up from my seat in panic.

“Ryder... Jody insisted you wear this.”

Ryder looked down at his attire in utter disgust. “Don’t try to blame anybody but yourself. This is your fault. Are you trying to embarrass me? Do you have some personal vendetta? I’ve never even worked with you before!”

It stung that he didn’t even recognize me from our previous jobs together, but I tried to ignore it. Looking at Ryder’s get-up, he didn’t even look half bad. The gold metallic suit went great with his complexion, and the cowboy hat added a charming touch. But he wasn’t having any of it.

“You have to wear it. It’s not an option. This is your costume.” I tried to act brave, as if his harsh voice didn’t effect me one bit.

“You’re fucking delusional if you think I’m going to be caught dead wearing this. Say goodbye to your job, nobody speaks to me like that. I’m Tom god-damned Ryder.”

The tent’s entrance opened, revealing a very angry Colt.

Colt and I were sort of close, as close as most coworkers get. I didn’t think we’d never hang out outside of set, but I considered him sort of an ally. When he wasn’t performing a dangerous stunt, he’d talk to me about whatever was on his mind and listen to me ramble on and on.

“Just leave her alone, Ryder. She’s not here for you to bitch at.”

It would be hard to deny the fact that I had a small crush on Colt. He was everything I could want; charming, tall, handsome. But in those moments, as he defended me, I could feel it turning to a major crush.

Anger pulsed through him as he walked over to Ryder. I’d actually never seen him so pissed off before. Colt, the easy going, overly sweet, fall guy, was bowing up on Tom Ryder.

I could tell Ryder wanted to say something back, but instead he bit his tongue as he strutted past Colt, making sure to bump shoulders with him on the way out.

Colt shook his head, making eye contact with me. He had a sorry expression on his face, genuine pity for me.

“Ignore him. Ryder’s a jackass.”

I giggled, “That’s an understatement.”

He chuckled, “Anyways, do you have any extra hats? I somehow managed to lose mine, and I already have some stunts I need to do.”

Colt nervously twiddled his thumbs, embarrassed of his clumsiness. It was our third day on set, and he’d already misplaced his hat.

I nodded, smiling. Colt was always losing his props and costume pieces in previous projects we’d worked together in, so I’d remembered to bring extras. Turning around to reach into the bucket of hats, I pulled one out and handed it to him.

“Thanks. And again, just don’t let Ryder get to you. I know you’ve worked with him before, but don’t take anything he says personally, okay? If he gives you any problems, just let me know, alright?”

It wasn’t surprising that Colt remembered me from past projects, but it still felt nice in contrast to Ryder’s forgetfulness.

I nodded, smiling. “Thanks Colt, I really appreciate that.”

My cheeks burned a light crimson shade, and I tilted my head down, hoping he didn’t notice.

As he walked out of the tent, I added “Let me know if you need another hat or anything. I brought extras just for you.”

Colt looked back at me, smirking. “I will definitely need another one, thanks sweetheart.”

The simple nickname made my head spin. Yep, this is definitely a major crush.

—

By day five of filming, Ryder had become okay with his costume. Well, maybe not okay, but definitely impartial. Perhaps because his ego had realized how ridiculously good the suit made him look, or maybe Colt had spoken to him alone about the matter.

Part of me hoped it was the latter.

My job as costume designer and manager was really simple; fix and replace shit all the time. Especially Colt’s shit. When day six rolled around, he had lost three hats, his metallic jacket, and somehow a singular shoe. I’m not kidding, he had stumbled into the costume tent, peg footed, hobbling on the shoe he’d managed to keep. I didn’t mind though. In fact, Colt was one of the few people that actually visited me in the tent, instead of walking in, grabbing their belongings, and quickly walking out, not saying a word or acknowledging my existence. Colt’s visits slowly became one of the only things I looked forward to during filming.

On day twelve, when Colt came in to the tent without a cowboy hat once again, I mustered up the courage to ask him the one thing I never thought I’d be able to ask.

“Do you want to hang out sometime. You know, just me and you? Outside of set.”

The sides of his mouth quirked up. “I’d love that actually. But I do have one request.”

I furrowed my brows, listening intently. “If me and you go out, you have to wear a cowboy hat.”

My mouth dropped open in protest, but he argued on. “You’ve seen me in these stupid things so many times, too many times to count. I’m completely and utterly embarrassed. Maybe I want to see you sporting your southern spirit for once.”

“I’m from Wisconsin!” I giggled, shaking my head rapidly. “I am not wearing one of these things in public.”

Colt rolled his eyes, “Fine, but you have to wear one around set for the rest of filming. Deal?”

I sighed, remembering that I barely ever exit my tent other than at lunch time and when leaving set for the day. “Deal.”

“Karaoke, seven, tonight. I’ll text you the address.”

Colt turned to leave, and I grabbed his shoulder, pausing him.

“I don’t have your number.”

“Oh, yeah.” Colt chuckled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. We exchanged numbers, and he laughed at the excessive amount of repetitive digits in mine.

“And I’m expecting our deal to begin right now.” He said, glancing at the bucket of hats behind me. I sighed, picking one out and placing it upon my head.

“Happy?” I asked, holding out spirit fingers beside me.

Colt beamed, “Perfect.”

He turned and left the tent, and I pulled out my phone and began to update Colt’s contact name, only to sigh and pocket my phone again. Apple somehow doesn’t have a cowboy hat emoji.

—

When my Uber lazily pulled up to the karaoke bar, anxiety pooled in my stomach all at once. I shouldn’t have been this nervous, and I knew I was making this out to be something that it wasn’t. A date.

But what exactly was I supposed to think of this as? Hangouts happen at people’s houses, dates happen at bars. Plus it didn’t help that it was Colt and I alone. I look down at the sun dress that I donned, running my hands down the skirt. This wasn’t too formal, right?

I stepped out of the black car, thanking the half asleep driver, and walked toward the bar. I opened the door and automatically spotted Colt sitting by himself, drinking a small, lean glass of something colorful. The bar wasn’t exactly packed, but it wasn’t empty either. Numerous people danced around as a man in a orange and green polka dot button up did a bad rendition of Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance”.

Making my way towards him, the anxiety filled my stomach even higher.

“Hey.” I said nervously, sitting down beside him.

Colt looked at me, examining my attire. “You look great.”

I blushed, shrugging. “Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself.”

He smiled, taking another sip of his drink.

I wasn’t too keen on getting drunk because we still had to go to set in the morning and the last thing I wanted Colt Seavers to see was me throwing up in a bush, but a drink or two couldn’t hurt.

“You want a drink?”

“Sure,” I grabbed the bartender’s attention, “Can I please get a margarita?” She nodded, scrambling to assemble the cocktail.

“So I’m guessing you don’t drink much?” Colt asked, his lips in a sly smirk.

“What makes you say that?”

I chuckled, drinking the last of what I assume what his first drink and ordering another. I then learned the bright liquid was a sunset on ice.

“Well you ordered the most basic drink known to mankind. I mean, at least make it spicy.”

I guess that was true, but I didn’t like experimenting with my orders much. I didn’t enjoy drinking much in general due to the effects it would have on me later.

“I like what I like.” I shrugged, thanking the bartender as she handed me the margarita.

We sat in silence for a moment, until Colt turned to me. “So, what are we singing?”

I coughed into my drink. I hadn’t even thought of what I was going to sing yet.

“Funny of you to assume were doing a duet.” I said slyly, playing off the fact that I was trying to pull a song out of my ass.

Colt raised his eye brows. “Okay, then go and serenade me.”

I nodded at him, walking over to the DJ and requesting “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood. Once Polka Dots was done singing his heart out, the adrenaline had kicked in and I felt as if I ruled the world. Or maybe I just wanted to rule Colt’s world.

The small crowd clapped along as I sang, and I say Colt’s smile through the audience every time I tried to execute one of the runs in the song.

Afterwards, I walked over to him, slightly embarrassed but also proud. “How’d I do?”

His face was covered in amusement. “It was... entertaining.”

I giggled, punching his arm lightly. “You’re the one who told me to ‘sport my southern spirit’!”

He sighed, shaking his head sarcastically. “The cowboy had would’ve made it complete. You missed the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“I think I’ll live. Now it’s your turn!”

I motioned towards the DJ booth, and he stood up turning back for a split second to wink at me.

I was expecting something silly. Maybe Total Eclipse of the Heart, or Sweet Caroline. I was terribly wrong.

By the time the first notes blared out of the speakers, I knew I was doomed.

Wise men say only fools rush in

But I can’t help falling in love with you.

It’s like he’d searched my brain, found my favorite love song of all time, and decided he was going to make me fall in love with him by singing it.

His voice wasn’t perfect. There were parts that were off key and shaky, but the bigger picture was beautiful. I never thought I could fall in love with someone in a karaoke bar.

Once he was done, my shoulders dropped and the tension left my body. It had been so unexpected, the tune had snuck up on me and now I felt head over heels to the man who had sung it. I wasn’t the only one who loved it, the crowd was going crazy.

“How’d I do?” Colt asked me, sipping the drink that had been waiting for him. This had to have been his third drink, and I could tell he was tipsy from the way he spoke.

“It was great.” I wanted to scream ‘It was amazing! It was perfect! Please marry me!’ But thankfully I did not.

“‘Glad you liked it.”

We sat in silence for a moment before I got the guts to ask.

“Why that song?”

Colt hummed, as if asking me to repeat my question.

“Why’d you pick that song?”

He grinned to himself before shrugging. “I just like the song, I guess. It’s one of my favorites.”

It could’ve been my habit of overthinking and examining everything to the smallest detail, or it could’ve been the psychology course that I took in college and obsessively studied over for months, but Colt’s excessive blinking in those moments told me there was a good chance he was lying to me.

Why would he lie over a song?

“It’s one of my favorites too.” I smiled. I’d find out why he lied to me later.

Colt grinned to himself in satisfaction.

We sat there for another hour, and Colt drank two more tequila sunrises, which meant I was now his designated driver.

At about nine, I decided it was time to leave.

“Colt, I’m gonna give you a ride home, okay?”

Colt nodded dizzily.

“Did you drive here?”

“Yeah, here.” He clumsily handed me his keys, almost missing my hand. I stiffened a laugh. “Diane! Close out my tab, please.” The waitress handed him his card quickly.

We stood up, beginning to leave, when Colt turned back to the bartender. “Thank you, Diane, those drinks were great.”

I waved goodbye to Diane as well, reading the “Amy” on her name tag with a smile.

I got him into the car slowly, and began driving him home.

“Hey, y/n?”

I hummed, waiting to hear what he was about to say. Chances are it would be something ridiculous, and I was all here for it.

“You’re really pretty. Have you ever been told that?”

I blushed, and prayed the dark car shadowed me enough for him not to see.

“A time or two. Thank you, Colt.”

He leaned the passenger seat back, and I thought for a moment that he would go to sleep.

“Where are you staying?”

He turned his head to me, and shrugged. “Can we just go to yours?”

I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. Colt Seavers, in my small temporary apartment that I was providing to stay in during the time we’d be filming. It wasn’t a mess since I’d only been staying in there for about two weeks, but it definitely wasn’t guest ready.

“Sure, why not?” I fumbled with my phone, pulling up my GPS app and getting directions to the apartment.

“Can I tell you something, y/n?”

I nodded slowly, ignoring the way my stomach felt when he said my name.

“I actually didn’t lose all of those hats.”

What?

I furrowed my eyebrows, whipping my head to look at him. “Then why’d you keep getting new ones from me?”

He hiccuped, smirking. “I just wanted an excuse to see you.”

If my face was a crimson shade before, it was a tomato now. I felt bad, like I was using Colt’s drunken state to get answers out of him.

“Did you like my song?” He looked over at me, waiting for my answer intensely.

My lips quirked up into a soft smile. “I did. ‘I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You’ is actually one of my favorite songs.”

This made him giddy. He giggled like a school girl, and then stiffened a laugh myself.

“I know.” Colt said under his breath.

So he did know.

“How’d you know?” I pressed Colt for answers. I knew that if he found out he’d told me any of this while drunk, he’d be mortified, but I just couldn’t help my curiosity.

“I heard you listening to it one day on set. I was outside of your tent, about to come in to tell you that I’d lost another hat, but I stopped and listened for a while. You were singing along, and you sounded so good. That’s why I wanted to sing a duet with you.”

At this point, I’m the color of a fire truck.

We pulled up to the apartment, and I unbuckled, getting out. I walked over to Colt’s door and opened it for him.

“Very chivalrous, thank you my lady.”

I giggled, helping his wobbly frame out of the car. “You’re welcome kind gentleman.”

We walked into the apartment building, making our way up a flight of stairs. Well, I made my way up them, Colt tripped over himself with each new stair until he made it to the top. At one point, he almost fell all the way down them, and dragged me down by my arm with him, but he managed to catch himself.

I brought him to my room, closing the door behind him. It was small, the kitchen and lounging room directly next to one another, separated by no wall. There was a door that led to the bedroom with a bathroom connected.

Walking into the kitchen, I grabbed a plastic cup form the cupboard and filled it with water. I handed it to Colt, who turned his nose up at it like I were trying to feed him poison.

“You have to drink water or you’ll regret it in the morning, Colt. You still have to go in for filming, remember?”

He sighed, taking the cup from me and drinking it all at once. “I’m starving.”

I thought for a moment about what he could possibly find to eat in the apartment. Nothing. I’d pretty much been eating take out since I arrived to Sydney.

“I’ll order a pizza.”

I pulled my wallet out of my purse on the kitchen counter. Colt shook his head, reaching in his pocket. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay.”

“You got the drinks, Colt, it’s fine.” I insisted, grabbing my card.

Colt handed me his entire wallet, “I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing I made you pay for it.” his drowsy eyes said otherwise, “Please, just let me.”

I sighed, taking his wallet from him, “Thank you.” I said under my breath.

Colt only winked at me, lazily walking to the couch and plopping himself on it.

I ordered the pizza, assuming he liked pepperoni because who doesn’t like pepperoni?

I sat down beside him on the couch once I was finished. He was flipping through the different options on Netflix, his face was focused intently to find something.

Colt Seavers was on my couch. Well not necessarily my couch since the apartment was only being rented for me, but you get the point. We were on the couch together, tryin to find a movie to watch with pizza on the way. This realization made my cheeks feel hot once again.

“Here we go.” Colt chuckled as he clicked on the block buster film “Bad Cop, Good Dog” starring the one and only Tom Ryder.

“Get him off the screen, I might puke.” I giggled, attempting to grab the remote from him. Colt held it as far away as his much longer arms could manage, and I gave up.

“This is such a horrible film.” Colt told me, his eyes laser focused on the screen still.

“Then why are we watching it?”

Colt thought for a moment. “The way he talked to you the other day isn’t anything new. I’ve seen him talk to pretty much every one on every set we worked on together just like that. I just couldn’t always save them like I did you. It’s easy to think he’s some big, powerful guy, but in reality, he’s a pussy.”

I stayed silent for a moment. It felt nice, knowing that he still cared so deeply about the way Ryder had treated me.

“That’s nice and all, but it still doesn’t explain why exactly were watching this.”

Colt shrugged, “Oh, I just like making fun of him. We can watch something else if you want to.”

I snatched the remote from him, “Please.”

After a few more minutes of searching, I decided on the 1998 classic “The Parent Trap”.

“This movie never made any sense to me.” Colt crossed his arms as the movie started.

“Why?”

“Well, first off, what judge arranged this custody system? I mean seriously, how did both parents just up and leave with one kid?” He slurred so horribly that I had to fight a laugh as he spoke.

“It’s just a movie.” There are a few movies that I would defend with my life, this is definitely one of them.

“You can’t just use that as an excuse. Just because it’s a movie doesn’t mean it’s allowed to just defy all logic.”

“Colt,” I turned to face him, “You are working on a sci-if space cowboy movie with aliens. I think that makes the parent trap sound pretty reasonable.”

Colt chuckled, “Touché.”

My heart fluttered as I looked at Colt, lazily snuggled into my couch.

There was a knock at the door and I hopped up, walking through the kitchen and dodging Colt’s wallet, grabbing mine instead.

I paid for the pizza and brought it in, met with the sight of an extremely hungry Colt waiting impatiently at the counter.

“You didn’t use my wallet.”

I sighed, putting mine back in my purse. “I’m a big girl, I can pay for my own things.”

Colt shook his head. “You’re absolutely kicking my ass at the chivalry game.”

Grabbing a slice of pizza, I went back to the living room. Colt followed quickly behind me, and we got about one-fourth through the movie before I could tell Colt was getting extremely tired.

I got up, and went to my room, grabbing a blanket and a pillow.

“Here.” I handed them to him. Colt smiled up at me gratefully.

“Thanks.” He made himself comfortable, before leaning back and closing his eyes. The couch wasn’t very small, which was surprising since the apartment was so compact. This is why I didn’t feel bad about having him sleep on the couch. He didn’t complain either.

“Goodnight.” He mumbled, drifting off.

I smirked at him, walking to the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of water to place beside the couch. I also grabbed the bathroom’s trash can. He was going to have a terrible hangover.

“Goodnight Colt.”

I had gotten a date with Colt Seavers for the small price of humiliating myself in a southern style for the rest of filming. I’d say that’s a pretty good deal.

Or maybe it wasn’t date and I was delusional, but Colt ended up sleeping on my couch, which is pretty sweet if you ask me.

[boxofbonesfic]

𝐵𝑜𝓍𝑜𝒻𝒷𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈:

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒯𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓈𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓃𝑔𝑒

divider by @firefly-graphics

Maybe it’s you. 

Maybe you’re the problem, you know? It’s like you don’t feel at home in your clothes, like they grate and itch against your prickling skin. Possibly it’s your skin itself, that it doesn’t fit quite right anymore. Could be there’s someone—or something—in there with you, whispering, watching, yearning. Perhaps you are that slithering darkness waiting deep, deep inside to blossom into something new and terrible. 

And I want you to tell me about it. 

For my spooky season challenge this year, I’d like my participants to write about Transformation. Spiritual, emotional, physical, psychological—go crazy, and hopefully your characters will too. Have they been bitten and infected? Or did they trust the wrong stranger, invite the wrong “friend” into their home? Have they fallen to the curses of the werewolf, or vampire? It doesn’t matter how we get there, but by the end of your story, your character must be utterly transformed—whether that is physically, psychologically, or spiritually, your characters must end in a completely new place from where they began. They must transform. 

As people, or perhaps…as monsters. 

 You can, of course pick your own poison, but if you need assistance, I have  categories below to choose from. But first, the rules. The fundamentals are this: 

This is a HORROR challenge. I will not be accepting any out of genre submissions. No exceptions. If that isn’t your speed, I have other non-spooky challenges coming up, so feel free to join one of those! Any horror sub-genre is acceptable—sci-fi, physiological horror, eco-horror, supernatural, comedy horror, body horror, cosmic horror etc, etc. If you aren’t sure, just shoot me a message. It will be running and active from Friday, October 11th to Midnight, February 1st 2025.

Because of the themes, and my own blog’s content, this challenge is obviously 18+ only. No exceptions. Smut is obviously fine (if not encouraged LOL). I do encourage thorough tagging, but it is not a strict requirement. Darkfics accepted and actively encouraged. 

For this challenge I am accepting both fandom specific and original work. Fandoms I am accepting submissions for the following: Marvel/MCU, LOTR/The Hobbit, Star Wars, Chris Evans Characters, Sebastian Stan Characters, Henry Cavill Characters, Pedro Pascal Characters, Oscar Isaac Characters, Chris, Hemsworth Characters. If it’s not on here, just ask!

You may not submit any previously written work for this challenge—that’s why it’s a challenge. If you’re new to writing horror, I encourage you to check out my Horror Recommendations list for a genre-specific (and growing) list of movies, books and graphic novels! If you’re an old hat at horror, pick a sub-genre you don’t normally explore and see what sparks your fancy! If you are inspired by something, remember to give credit where it’s due!

You may submit a maximum of three entries for this challenge, capped at 10k words per submission. Please put your work under a cut if it is longer than 500 words. You may tag me in every submission, feel free to shoot me a message if I don’t see it. 

Submissions I will not be accepting: DDLG, Toilet Play, Minors in sexual situations, RPF, Bestiality

Have fun! That’s the most important and key part of this challenge. Have lots, and lots of fun. 

And get scared. 

If anyone needs prompts, I am more than happy to come up with a few personalized ones. ❤️

Horror Genre/Sub-genre example list below the cut. It is by no means exhaustive, but it should give you a general idea of what story beats to aim for if you’re unfamiliar. Happy writing, friends!

Supernatural Horror

-Horror that includes ghosts, demons, werewolves, vampires, and all other creatures of myth or folklore. 

Psychological Horror

-Horror with a heavy focus on the mental, emotional and psychological states of the subjects, often uses mystery elements and unreliable narrators. 

Sci-Fi Horror

-Horror that generally involves impossible or unethical experimentation, alien abduction or invasion, and the horrific applications of science to the natural order. 

Slasher Horror

-Horror that is characterized by a killer who violently dispatches a cast of varied characters, whittling them down to a surviving character—usually deemed the Final Girl—goes head to head with the killer and either walks away or not at all. 

Body Horror

-Horror that involves the disfigurement or corruption of the physical body, whether due to science, supernatural causes, or disease. Often crosses into psychological horror territory.

Monster Horror

-Usually a cross between either supernatural or sci-fi horror, monster horror denotes the presence of some kind of non-human creature that generally antagonizes the main cast through violent or supernatural means. 

Cosmic Horror

-Lovecraftian inspired work that emphasizes the horror of cosmic dread, the dichotomy of genius and madness, as well as concepts of forbidden knowledge and the dangers of discovery. 

Folk-Horror

-Folk-Horror often uses rural settings and themes of superstition, cults/folk-religion and sacrifice. They usually juxtapose the modern and the traditional, pitting the in-group against naive outsiders.

Fantasy-Horror

-A sub-genre that contains key elements of both larger genres: fantastical elements and settings with the darker, often more violent and disturbing themes of horror. 

Comedy-Horror

-Horror with a comedic twist. Often the best comedy horror successfully combines the funny punchlines with real, meaningful scares. 

[bruisedboys]

Cutting/doing Eddie's hair and he keeps trying to distract you but it's the first time anyone's really done it and just being overwhelmed but love and 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

such a cute request!! hope this is okay my love 🤍

0.6k words

“Are you sure about this?”

You’re tentative and nervous where you stand over Eddie, scissors in hand. Your boyfriend twists in his chair, meeting you with a look on his face not far from what a fed-up mother would give her toddler.

“Y/N,” he says deadpan. “I’m sure. Would you just do it already?”

“But …” You trail off mid-protest. You’ve had this argument many times. Eddie really wants you to cut his hair, you think you won’t do a good job, Eddie doesn’t care because he thinks his hair is already totally fucked, you disagree because you think his hair is perfect.

He’s got lovely hair. Gorgeous dark curls that you love pulling on and running your fingers through. You just don’t want to ruin it.

“Love,” Eddie says gently, more gentle than he’s been previously about this whole kerfuffle. “It’s only a trim. I only need like, this much off.” He holds up a hand, showing you his thumb and pointer finger separated by about half an inch. “You’ll do just fine.”

You sigh as Eddie turns back in his chair, facing the mirror you’ve set up. You run your hand through his locks, pushing your fingers through his gorgeous, gorgeous curls. You can’t help but think this is the last time you’ll see them like this, before you ruin them.

“I just don’t wanna ruin your hair,” you admit. “What if I accidentally cut off too much, Eds? What if it looks awful and it’s all my fault?”

Eddie catches your eyes in the mirror, a look on his face that you know all too well. “Darling. You could shave my whole head of hair off and I’d still be a fucking knockout.”

You groan loudly. He’s awful. And maybe what he said is a tiny bit true but there’s no way you’re going to give him the satisfaction.

“You’re full of shit,” you tell him, grimacing.

Eddie gives you a lopsided, too cheerful grin in the mirror. “Thanks sweetheart. Now get choppin’.”

You sigh and do as he says. He’s got a face that’s hard to say no to. It really doesn’t go half as bad as you thought it would. It’s actually quite easy. You chop off about half an inch with ease and you’re making a few clean-up cuts when you feel Eddie staring at you in the mirror. You look up, scissors in midair.

Sure enough, he’s gazing at you like you invented the sun. You meet his eyes in your reflection and wrinkle your nose.

“What?”

“What d’you mean what?”

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

Eddie twists in his chair very abruptly, startling you so much you almost make a lethal chop.

“Eddie!” You scold. “I could’ve chopped half your hair off!”

He ignores you. He‘s got this look on his face, something close the lovesickness written across his features. Suddenly you’re feeling very dizzy.

“No one’s ever cut my hair before,” he says. “Not that I can remember, anyway. I’ve always done it myself.”

He’s talking so earnestly, with so much love, that you flush from head to foot.

“Well, no wonder it’s so bad,” you joke weakly, a sad attempt at hiding your fondness for him.

Neither of you laugh. Eddie rolls his eyes, a grin on his pretty features that makes you want to kiss him silly. His gaze falls back on you.

“Thank you,” he says, dripping in fondness, so sweet you’re sure you’re tummy aches with it.

You drop the act, allow yourself to smile, to touch his face, to look at him with the huge amount of fondness you’re feeling for him in your chest. It seeps from your heart through your ribs and to the tips of your toes and fingers.

“S’okay, Eds,” you say, your hand on his jaw, fingers pushing into his hairline. “Any time, baby.”

His grin is blinding.

[resowrites]

Special Brew - oneshot.

Summary: Henry’s interview gets gatecrashed…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Reader/Wife!OC, Interviewer

Warnings: fluff, banter/British humour, fake interview, language, dialogue heavy, nondescript reader/OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 2221

A/N: Hi folks I know it’s been a while, work’s nuts these days. This is very rushed and was meant to be longer (I wanted to base it on something I’d written previously) but for the sake of just getting something uploaded I decided to post as is. Sorry I can’t post regularly anymore but I hope you enjoy all the same - R x

Remember, this is pure fiction (as in completely made up), and not in any way meant to reflect reality. My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Gifs/pics not my own. Thanks for visiting!

Special Brew - oneshot.

The following is an excerpt from an article that can be read in full here.

— It's at about the halfway mark in my interview with the 41-year-old Hollywood actor, Henry Cavill, when I notice his attention is caught by something offscreen. 

"Where did you get that?" I think I hear 'the fridge, you dickhead,' in reply. He grins. But instead of resuming our discussion about his upcoming role in the rebooted 80's classic, Highlander, he starts gesturing for someone to join him. It fails. So seconds later his partner is pulled onto his lap despite some very loud protestations. He tells her it's her fault for taking his last tin of lager. She tells him she needs it more. What then follows is an almost a four-and-a-half minute squabble - yes I actually timed it - which ends with Henry relinquishing the can on the proviso that if he has to be interviewed, she does as well. I don't take offense but soon wondered if that was premature: 

"Who's interviewing you? The Telegraph?"

"No, The Guardian--"

"Wouldn't the Telegraph be more interested?" He gestures in my direction.

"Well, I assume Mark is all the same!"

"And how long have you been keeping this poor bastard?"

"We've not even been chatting half an hour!" 

"Oh… have you got a second question for him?" I smile. The 35-year-old financier first met the actor in 2015 and they were rumoured to have married in 2022. Not that either of them, his publicist, or even various social media accounts provide much in the way of confirmation. This seems to stem more from a desire for privacy where possible than anything else. Though it must be said, at first glance they make for an incongruous pair. She catches me peering at her still towel-wrapped hair, Celtic jersey, and joggers combo and wastes no time striking first:

"That's a nice shirt--"

"Don't be cheeky, just 'cos you could have made more of an effort--"

"It's my day off! At least I don't look like an undercover policeman." Is she referring to Henry or myself?

"I don't know, stand up," I laugh but he just rolls his eyes. "Has he apologised for Aryglle yet? To be fair that was actually my fault, I wanted a new kitchen." This lays the ground for what is arguably one of the most chaotic interviews I've experienced in a while.

"Do you see what I mean, Mark? It's not that she wouldn't be media trained, it's that she couldn't." Now she rolls her eyes.

"See, he thinks he's being slick by making me look bad--"

"I'm the one who does that?!"

"So he looks better by comparison--"

"Is that right? And what was wrong with Aryglle?!"

"Nothing! It's the best thing you've ever done. Even if you didn't mean for it to be." She coughs to try and cover a laugh. I ask for her thoughts on his most recent box office offering (Guy Ritchie's spy action comedy, The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare) but for a split second, the title escapes me.

"You mean The Manly Ministry of Something?" Henry tuts and grabs back the can. I dare to question if she has a low opinion of the profession in general. "No, it's more to do with the actors themselves." How so? "Well, considering they're usually the biggest gobshites you'd think it'd be great craic hanging out with them--" he quickly interjects.

"Who are you calling a gobshite?!"

'What do you mean?"

"You know fine well what I mean!" Henry turns back towards me and continues. "Even her own mother took me aside a couple of weeks after we started dating to try and warn me--"

"She never! What did she say?"

"Do you really want to discuss that right now?!" It can't be that bad then, I respond. He shakes his head, despairingly. "Oh no, just that she once walked on stage at a school assembly and instead of graciously accepting an award, pretended to trip so she could drag every single trophy off the display table!"

"… Can you tell he went to a private school?" I almost spit my drink out.   

"What do you mean?"

"Do you not realise how tame that sounds?!"

"But that was just the first month you were there!"

"Then I deserved an award--"

"Hang on, she also told me that when you had an after-school detention on your birthday, you climbed out the window of the room you were being supervised in--"

"Normally I'd just get on the bus and go home so that time they gave me a personal escort--"

"And then refused to come down from the roof unless they gave her a birthday cake!" Laughter rings out between our two screens. "In the end, they had to call the fire brigade and she became the reason why their school couldn't properly open their windows any more--"

"I also got a ride home in a fire engine so, hands down one of my best birthdays." Henry sighs. I wonder aloud how this contrasts with his own experiences of school. 

"Er, I mean I was a bit of a goody-two-shoes, so I felt a bit intimidated by that sort of thing." 

"He still is." He now chokes on his drink. Does this mean they wouldn't have crossed paths as kids?

"Nah, she'd have bullied me then as well." They both laugh. So she hasn't mellowed at all in the intervening years?

"I would say I have, yeah… you do as you get older." Henry's eyebrows hit the ceiling.

"Oh right, so I just hallucinated that night at the Bafta’s then?" She clears her throat and takes a large swig from the can. Is this why she doesn't typically attend red carpets with him?

"Ugh, I'd rather shit in my hands and clap--"

"That and the fact you're a fucking liability!" She shrugs as he explains. "A few years ago, I made the mistake of dragging her along to the after-party--"

"Well, that explains why I didn't fucking remember. Why did I have to come? You didn't win anything you were just presenting--"

"Oh fuck off! I even promised to take her on holiday for a couple of weeks if she at least tried to behave herself--"

"'Cos that's a good incentive--"

"And Jesus Christ, never again. If I wasn't blackballed in this industry before, I was that fucking night--"

"No, it's 'cos you won't take acting lessons." Henry smirks and tries to cover her mouth this time.

"At least I didn't go up to a circle containing Judi Dench, Helen Mirren--"

"Look at him dropping names! And it's Dame Judi…"

"And last but not least, the Meryl Streep--"

"You know, of Mama Mia…" A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. 

“Only to ask them where their cauldron was!" 

"But that's the great thing about being a nobody, you can say whatever want--"

"You're not a nobody--"

"No, I'm your plus one…" They howl with laughter. "The best thing is to underdress slightly as well so they think you're staff, the reactions are even better." And what was the response? "None of them heard me." He snorts.

"Judi just burst out laughing--"

"Judi! Like they're friends! Yeah, well she saw us arrive together so I think she was onto me."

"Luckily she's got a robust sense of humour…"

"Not like that other one. Oh, what's his name? You know… the one that says he'd rather be making shoes?" Sir Daniel Day-Lewis?

"Yeah, she asked him if he wanted her to go look for his top hat." I can feel my own jaw drop.

"That's how he reacted! Oh God, I'd give my left tit to relive it…" I ask where Henry is when these interactions go down. "Usually trying to find the nearest exit--"

"Is it any wonder!" 

"But we were only there twenty minutes--" 

"And he wasn't even the first Daniel you managed to piss off!" And who was that?

"Dan Snow." The broadcaster? Henry glances heavenward, exasperated.

"No, Jon Snow - and she means Kit Harrington. She got talking to him and somehow things managed to go south even quicker than usual." I can see how referring to him instead as the 50-year-old historian might have that effect. "No, it wasn't that, it was when he asked whether she was enjoying Game of Thrones--"

"Which is presumptuous isn't it?" For once even I'm at a loss for words. 

"And so she asked him if that's the show with dragons and when he said 'yes,'" he starts cracking up, "she went 'then, no.'" I don't think I've ever seen a man look so crestfallen - not even when you accosted Sam." Mr. Rockwell? I'm assuming that took place while Henry was still on the Argylle press tour?

"Oh yeah that was a gas, I waited until we were a bit better acquainted--"

"So the poor sod had his guard down--"

"And on the last day, I asked if he'd sign a picture for me. I think he assumed it was for a friend or something so he wasn't expecting me to thank him for gifting Henry his picture to put above the toilet--"

"What's worse is that it was that still from The Green Mile, you know? Literally, the first one that pops up on Google!" This anecdote puts me in mind of a similar story I heard on the grapevine during the first season of Netflix's The Witcher. Against my better judgment, I ask him if knows what I'm talking about and immediately his eyes flash in recognition.  

"Yeah, and it pains me to say that's also true."

"What is?"

"Your stunt at the Witcher premiere…" For a moment she looks genuinely confused. "Don't pretend you can't remember!"

"Remember what? I wasn't even there!"

"And even that didn't spare me!" 

"Oh I can't fucking win Mark, all I did was try and bring a smile to his face 'cos I knew he was sad about me having to work that night--"

"So naturally you had an 8x10 still printed of me with Orlando Bloom's head (as Legolas), photoshopped on top? Which, by the way, you could have just messaged me. But what did you do instead? You made dozens of copies and had my bodyguard hand them out to fans for me to sign." She waits for a beat.

"But how long did it take for you to notice?" Gentle reader, when I tell you this is one of only a handful of occasions I've ever laughed so hard in an interview, it's because I want you to know how rare that's actually been over a 35-year career in entertainment journalism. Still, I imagine that if she was brazen enough to taunt some of Hollywood's most influential stars, far worse shots have since been fired.

"Oh yeah, why don't you tell Mark how you recently mouthed off to Aaron Taylor Johnson?" Even she begins to look sheepish. 

"Yeah, but I was only trying to make conversation." Henry's head falls into his hand. She snickers. What on earth happened? "Honestly, nothing. I just said I hoped he really was being considered for Bond ‘cos he looks great in a suit." I hardly know how to respond. "Now that I think about it, he probably just thought I got you two mixed up--"

"Stop it right now!"

"What? You bought me in on this interview!" This of course is true and seems to serve a more serious purpose the longer our conversation continues. That he adores her is plain - his eyes never leave her. But it's the fact she can keep making him laugh, even under the scrutiny of being interviewed, that seems to make all the difference. Is that the key to the success of their relationship? "Well, that and the fact he's gone for six months out of any twelve--"

"So all the messages saying you miss me is just lip service?"

"Oh alright, it's cos he's got a huge… heart. Almost as big as his bank balance." Henry's legs are suddenly thrown in the air. At first, it seems he lost his balance, but judging from how quickly he then chases her from the room, I assume it was she who pulled the lever on his office chair that sent him hurtling to the floor. 

A couple of days later, I received a brief email from her which apologised for them both having 'christened more than a couple of ships' that day and explained how she was grateful that even though she 'had a lot of baggage' before they met, Henry refused to give up on her. She signed off with the following; 'His biggest problem is his limited self-belief. But seriously, he's admired because, in a professional and personal life full of arseholes, he's still, as Virginia Woolf said of her husband right before she died by suicide, 'entirely patient and incredibly good'. I'll never be drunk enough to say that to his face so I've cc'd him in.' I double-checked and saw that she had indeed emailed him as well. It's an oddly moving, albeit characteristically funny postscript and one that underlines her devotion to him no matter what. We should all be so lucky.

The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare is on Amazon Prime Video.

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[blackoutdays13]

When it rains it pours intro

Ben Hargreeeves x reader mini series

Won’t be updated on a regular schedule (meaning it might not be complete)

Please be patient with me because I’ve never written on tumblr before, so I’m not sure how to make it look nice.

First person pov, and fem reader. Readers powers are electricity of some sort. Like a power source almost. But that doesn’t matter yet.

”When it rains, it pours” prologue

The distant sounds of cars honking fills my ears, and gentle drops of rain hit my face as I slowly enter a state of consciousness. I slowly open my eyes, and glance around to find myself in an unfamiliar alleyway. I bring myself to a sitting position, and think back to where I had been previously. 

It takes me a few moments to realize that it doesn’t look like I’m in Dallas anymore. Or at least not in the 60’s. I see in the corner of my eye a burned up briefcase, and I remember where I had been. 

Last thing I remember was being with Five, and Luther waits for the others. Klaus had shown up, and everyone else was missing in action. So Five had to get rid of the briefcase he had gotten. He must have hit me in the head, sending me through time cause my very last memory was of a black box flying into my face. 

 I wonder where the others are. Why am I here, and where even am I? I decide I might as well find out, so I walk out of the alley and glance around the area. It seems like the town us umbrellas grew up in… but something is off. I can feel it. 

It almost feels brighter out. The rain is more peaceful. Civilians seem much more relaxed, and comfortable walking the streets. They have their umbrella over their heads with a kind of unrecognizable confidence. If I weren’t apart of the small group of individuals who were “blessed” with special abilities I wouldn’t feel comfortable walking the streets. 

As more people pass me by I wonder more and more where I am. Or when I am. It’s clearly not Dallas, but something is too different for it to be home. I just can’t figure out what. That is until I see a big banner marked with the a big logo saying “Reginald Hargreeves Sparrow Academy”. 

“Shit” I mutter to myself. I look at this banner and see seven unfamiliar faces. Well six, and a cube? Why the fuck is a cube in this so called sparrow academy?

I look away from the banner, and pick up my pace. I don’t know where the hell I am, but I know this town. So I go the only place I can think of. I go to what was shortly know as home. 

After running through the streets I get stopped by an enormous crowd, staring at the sky and cheering. I get confused as my heart races in fear. only to see a small white towel fall from the sky. I look up to see a man, who I recognize as the front and center of the banner, standing on top of the mansion. 

I look at the building and see iron gates, with bird shapes crafted into the metal. No more umbrellas. 

I feel my palms start to sweat, and hear my heart pounding in my ears. I’m stranded. I mean there is no doomsday, but I’m alone. The Hargreeves must be lost in time, and stuck in the 60’s. Leaving me lost in an unknown world 

I’m sure maybe there is a chance they could come back, but I’ve learned not to trust time travel. I mean it got five stuck in an apocalypse, scattered us across the 60’s, and now has left me in a timeline similar to my own, but not quite right. 

As the rain starts to pour the crowd disperses. I’d rather not be seen by these sparrows, so I leave to. I don’t know where I’m headed, but sure I can figure it out.

Stop cause this was so cringe. My bad. Also anyone who wants to be tagged please let me know. @cherryinsalemverse @heymsperfectlyfine

[inside-lees-mind]

I’ll Eat My Hat

This was supposed to be cute. And it is, once you get past the topic of death.

So warning about topic of death.

Ukyo Saionji x reader

I actually hate this, but take that with a grain of salt bc I always hate what I write. If I didn’t hate it, I’ve been replaced with a ghost writer and call for help.

I promise I can write better than this. I just haven’t written anything in a while.

“And if I died?” The question was a lot darker than the previous questions and conversation. To you, the question rolled off the tongue with a giggle, looking up at him. Though to you, he was upside down, but that’s because you were laying down, head resting on his thigh, looking back and up at him. You sat up when you noticed his face fall a little bit.

“I’d hope that wouldn’t happen.” He almost whispers, a smile cracking across his face. He looks about to cry, and you realize, he’s probably thought out that scenario. And you realize you should probably just move on and drop the conversation.

“S—” You start but he cuts you off.

“But even if it did, I’d always love you.” He looks like he’s fighting hiding his face in his hands. And he is, because shouldn’t he be stronger than this? He doesn’t though, he just look at you for a moment before he speaks again. “And maybe, I’d go too. Soon enough.”

“No, I’d want you to live.” Your eyes, previously fixed on something just past him, now snap over to meet his. “Don’t give up like that.”

“Well, I’d eat my hat if that day ever came so… I don’t think we have anything to worry about.” Ukyo snickers.

“Because you don’t worry about it?” You catch him off guard.

“No. I mean, well, yes. I do, but it’s just paranoia.” He says, chuckling as he looks down at the ground.

…

That conversation feels more like a distant memory now. As you slip on and fasten up some wooden shoes to do some scavenging around the forest with Kohaku, you think back to it though. This isn’t death, so why does that conversation come to mind?

You’ve been awake for less than a week, and you’re going to war soon. And maybe you will die, then your beloved boyfriend will have to eat his hat. Of course, that’s not what he’s worried about, though.

You two weren’t together when the petrification happened, so you don’t have much of a clue where to find him. What if his statue was broken? Then what?

Questions like that float through your head for days and weeks until you’re told stories by Gen and Magma about a man who had terrifying archery skills. And it feels silly, because archery is a well respected sport in Japan, which cultural roots too, so that could have been anybody, but your mind went straight to the idea that it’s him.

They say he aimed at them, and that you find harder to believe. Your boyfriend always was intimidating, when he needed to be, but he was a pacifist. If their blood was on his hands, you know he’d never sleep well again.

Yet you find yourself asking for any sort of detail that confirms your hopes it is him, because maybe there is a good explanation for his hostility. And for why he’s working for your enemy.

(I literally do not remember the episode very well at all so I’m adding my own twist bc I’m not rewatching it rn)

Gen says they couldn’t really see him, but they know he’s got excellent hearing.

“It’s like he could hear a feather drop.” He says.

And your heart skips a beat because that’s got to be your boyfriend. Yet, time passes and nothing. You can’t just walk onto enemy lines to find your boyfriend. And on top of that, you’ve began to delude yourself that there is some other man in the area with excellent, inhuman hearing and impeccable archery skills.

You brush all that off, ignoring it for now. Even if it’s clawing at you, there is work to be done. So here you are, sitting on the cold, wooden floor of the hut. Gen and Senku were on the phone with a woman named Nikki. A self proclaimed super fan of Lillian Weinberg, as you’ve come to understand. You, being from the United States, had helped him just a little bit with his facts regarding the famous singer. He knew a lot, so did Senku, but you had input too.

When you all played the recording, she believed it, but a faint, yet stern voice cut through the air from the behind the phone. Then the phone is taken, and a familiar voice speaks. Your heart stops for a moment as you realize, the archer was your boyfriend. After barely hearing the next words he, Gen, or Senku spoke, you finally snap back to reality when you hear “we have somebody who is better at English than the both of us.”

And the microphone of the giant phone is suddenly being shoved into your hand.

“So what exactly do you want?” The line is whispered to you to say. You repeat it, trying not to stutter over your words. The line goes silent on the other end for a moment, before he speaks.

Gen and Senku exchange glances because you, as stone faced and cold as you are, have never seemed nervous before. You don’t fail to notice, but you don’t say anything.

“I don’t want blood.” He says, sounding a bit more emotional now.

“I know you don’t.” You say softly back, and confusion settles into the room.

“So I’m not crazy. It’s you?” You nod, before remembering he can’t see you to know you did.

“No, you’ve lost your mind. Now you have to eat a hat.” You chuckle.

“I just got this one.” He says.

“Alright, I don’t know how you two know each other,” Senku bluntly cuts you off. “But wrap it up, we have a negotiation to discuss? Let’s be 100% to the point here. We can do this with no blood.”

You sit back, smiling, knowing you’ll see him once this is over.

[nothorses]

The worst part of trying to talk about my experiences as a trans man is worrying that I’m not remembering it right, or it wasn’t that bad, or I’m being manipulative, or like I’m driven by secret prejudices and if I just recognized them then I’d immediately see that my life is fine. The longer it goes on the more I feel like I hallucinated it or dreamed up a memory to confirm … idk what. Do you or anyone else have advice about that? Other than “you can do whatever you want forever, hit the bricks” because intellectually I do get that but in practice I feel really lonely and “whatever I want” all alone sucks.

I've experienced a lot of that self-doubt as well, and I very much relate. I think what has helped me the most, over time, is:

a) Repeated confirmation & validation of my own memory, and

b) Understanding why someone might invalidate my memory in the first place

Pretty much in that order!

What that looked like for me was starting to write things down, or talk about them to someone else when they happened, and then going back to remember those things later when the memory felt less tangible. When I look back on the things I've written especially, it feels genuinely crazy to me that I ever forgot how severe some of those experiences were, and even crazier that I allowed someone to convince me I was wrong about them. When I had that experience multiple times, and over time, I started to learn that I could trust myself more than I had previously been taught to.

Understanding the reasons someone might have for doing this was also helpful! Humans are fallible, and our memories can become distorted over time, and it's important to remember that other people are just as likely to make mistakes as we are. They might legitimately believe they're right, and not be. You probably aren't more or less likely to do that than anyone else is; and if you are more likely to do that, the answer still isn't to just assume you're always wrong, because you're not always wrong- nobody is!

Other people are also just as likely as you are to be influenced by their own personal biases. Consider what's at stake for people who might want you to be wrong about your own memories: what kind of fear might they be feeling? What kind of guilt will they have to grapple with if they're forced to change their worldview?

I don't think it's ever a good idea to completely shut out all possible criticism or possibility that you're wrong, but it's just as unhealthy to be completely incapable of trusting yourself. The solution lies in the nuance, in holding both truths at once: you might be wrong, but you also might be right. What's more likely? Who is most likely to know the truth, or at least be closer to it? How can you check? What biases are present for you and others involved? How can you check them, and keep them in check?

I find that working through it this way- with the nuance included- is genuinely more reassuring to me than if I were to try to just throw out all possibility of being wrong.

I don't know how helpful that is to you, but hopefully something in there is useful!! Good luck!

[aarcanevillains]

That one night in Atlanta

Masterlist

Lili hasn’t seen Alex in four years, since Vietnam and that immediate attraction, it seems, still lingered

Warnings: Smut | Alex Summers x FemOC

Notes: Lili is Peter’s cousin from a previous one shot - don’t do what Alex & Lili do -> wrap it before you tap it even when drunk

Liliana Eisenhardt, a twenty-six year old woman who’s Polish accent hadn’t dimmed since her move to Washington DC when she was five.

Lili, a Polish woman who had been one of the many mutants forced to follow America into the Vietnam war- though she was there as a young twenty-two year old nurse stationed in the Mutants tent… as a science experiment for her mutation and to test the others like her.

It’s where she first met Alexander Summers, or well Alex as he had officially introduced himself and told her many a time to refer to him as instead of Summers. The day she finally caved had been the first time they spoke properly, the first time any of them had seen her use that mutation of hers (and on a scientist who had tried to call for help at that).

Lili shot back the cold burning liquid as she drowned out the shit day she had had. Another place of work declining her for being a Mutant. It was getting annoying.

She’d come all the way to Atlanta, hoping to transfer universities as she aimed for her doctorate in Physics (and Education), and get a paid internship at a local high school. But oh no- her file stated she was one of the mutants selected for Vietnam some four years ago so we can’t have the likes of you here.

It was fucking stupid.

“Tough day?” She blinked, recognition setting in as she turned to the voice. What was previously sand blond slicked back hair with buzzed down sides was now light brown and sweeping by his jaw. Blue eyes watching her carefully as she took him in.

“I’d say utter shit Summers.” She said finally, spinning on the bar chair to greet him properly.

“Looks it Eisenhardt.” He remembered her- honestly that surprised her, she never thought she was that memorable even with her copper hair and green eyes and yet he proved her wrong. “Saw you across the room, wanted to double check it was you though.”

“You’d be correct. Still Lili.” She smiled, head nodding to the bar. “You here for drinks with friends or..?”

“Just me unfortunately. Was doing some work here and decided I deserved a drink before I go home in the next few days.” He sat himself in the seat beside hers. “You?”

“Well I had hoped I’d be able to transfer universities so I could do a paid internship but.. they looked at my file and well ‘we can’t have one of your folk here’ so I also deserved a drink… or five.” Alex winced sympathy written all over that ungodly handsome face.

Instead of saying anything more he nodded to the barkeep. They both really needed a fucking drink.

Alex Summers couldn’t forget her even if he tried. The soft spoken nurse who always patched him and his team up, who never judged them, who only smiled when he and the others talked about their mutations. The young woman he was barely six years older than who was also secretly a mutant just like them.

And though it was hard to forget the way the bed slid across the room to slam into the man trying to run for help.. not for them but for Striker it was those green eyes, the crinkling of her nose when she smiled and that gorgeous copper hair that remained tucked in his mind.

Four years later and she was still stunning.

Four years later and they were in her hotel room lips locked in some heated battle that he wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon.

Lili’s fingers tangled in his hair, tugging softly as he lifted her, hands grasping her thighs tight while he stumbled towards her bed. The fall into the sheets was not graceful in the slightest.

Hands wandered the expanse of thigh covered by tight denim with a groan, raising higher until one hand found her knee and the other her ass - and fuck what an ass she has. He groaned again into the kiss.

It didn’t take long before clothes began flying, before he got those tight jeans off and his mouth began watering at the sight of the woman beneath him.

Above him.

Kisses nipped down his throat and collarbone as she flipped them both, giving him a view he’d only dreamed of- it was infinitely better in reality.

There was no sweet teasings or foreplay as her hand grasped his cock, lining him beneath her entrance as she knelt over him. Alex couldn’t keep his hands off of her, couldn’t help that sharp smack he landed against her ass before moving up to massage her breasts, to pull her down for another kiss.

They moaned into the kiss as Lili sunk down, hips flush against his own. She started with slow circles, getting used to him, taking him in full. Then Alex’s hands grabbed her hips as he bent his knees up behind her and thrust upwards, another moan being taken from her.

Hips met in sharp, deep thrusts, them moving together at what felt like an ungodly pace.

“Fuck, Alex.” She whimpered as the powerful man flipped them once more. Her legs tucked around his waist, copper hair flung around her like a halo as she tilted her head back. Shit he felt so good, fucked her so good. She whined out his name again as he nipped at her jaw the same way Lili had done to him.

“Lili.” He grunted in her ear. “Come on baby first one of the night yeah- good girl.”

Her core tightened, a twisted feeling in her chest both making her feel concerned and far too lightheaded to care as something crumbled to nothing beside them- matter manipulation really was a bitch.

“Alex.” She bucked up, white hot pleasure seizing her.

Holy shit she had never cum so fast before. It had been barely fifteen minutes since they entered the apartment. Fucking hell Alex was a God.

With a final thrust from Alex he followed suit, and both their chests heaving he fell forward onto her- rolling to the side soon after.

“Holy fuck.” Liliana said finally, head rolling to the side to look up at the energy converting mutant.

“Good?”

“I’ve never cum… so fast wow.” Alex just chuckled into her hair. “But… you said first of the night?”

“Ah. We don’t have to go again Lili…”

She snorted and shuffled down the bed, kissing his chest, his stomach, his abdomen as she went. He groaned as she settled between his legs.

“Oh I very much want to go again.”

[thecoffeelorian]

Writing Test Run...

//...I would like, if possible, to get a slight peek into others' interests and preferences when writing a short story about vampires/Midwestern Gothic/minor pandemic horror, so.

Here is one rough draft of my short story's introduction, of which I hope you will rate in the poll below for my research purposes.

Thank you.//

Okay, first things first—I’m not gonna bite anybody as soon as I meet them. Not only is that the calling card of the Old Carpathians, but I also don’t share their ideology thanks to my beliefs being a lot more complex than mere “vamp supremacy”. So, if you can remember to keep from putting my name into any sentences with those nutjobs as the subject, I’d really appreciate it. Especially in the days to come. Second, by now, you’ve probably heard all of the stories about recent events, both the ones containing cold hard facts and the ones more along the lines of anti-social media rants. As I don’t exactly host my own conspiracy-theory laden podcast or support a single person who does, I’m not gonna give a shred of legitimacy to the stories that sound a lot more like tabloid fodder, let alone a lot less than actual news bulletins. Those are total bunk no matter what those Mortals insist upon, so I won’t think about them one moment longer. What I will do, however, is recall as many facts as I can so that others don’t have a problem figuring out what’s true and what’s false... so here goes. Yes, there was a virus that affected the clotting factor of the average person’s bloodstream, because not only is that same virus still ongoing as I write this, but I was also one of those previously infected. I can also say that yes, a high percentage of the global population—namely, an estimated 66.7% of all humans from 0-99 years of age—passed away from it before any significant research about treatments or cures could begin. We will mourn their loss, but not without celebrating their lives. For the ones still alive, however, I have this to say—no, not only are the Vampires among us NOT spreading this virus by feeding on the human race, but as of this day forward, any and all members of the First Communal Hall are hereby off limits to any dumbass looking to make a name for himself by trying to hunt them down. I say this because we’re currently working on vaccine development in a few secured locations in order to stop this thing in its tracks, so if you don’t want a front-row seat to the collapse of society, please remain calm, keep your weapons in storage, and kindly allow us to do our jobs. If you’re going to keep on being foolish, on the other hand, and have already decided to stir up a little trouble for whatever reason you've cooked up in your brain—let me say this. I’ve just learned how to defend myself, as well as my immediate social circle. I’ve also just learned how another person can be found dead in an alley with what will easily be written off as “normal animal bites” as their official cause of death. And if it ever comes down to having to act as a piece of toothy life insurance against anybody who comes after me and mine, please be warned in advance: You try to sink any of your teeth into me, be they long or short, I will not hesitate to do the same to you. After all, once a certain handful Vampires decided to band together and use a little of their own blood as an experimental treatment against this virus...something really interesting happened to me. I became one.

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

Wrote a quick thing—as to how the ‘upgrade’ sequence in the SB rewrite would go. It’s written in second person.

—

As he powered back on, you’d stepped out, and had chosen to wait for him. Being in there... hadn’t exactly been fun, either.

He’d warned you of the risks, you remembered. How would that be forgotten? In the few hours of knowing the bear, he’d made it well known.

Glamrock Freddy had brought up his battery situation the most, it felt like. Although, with all of the messed up Recharge Stations the two of you had discovered?

It made enough sense.

Although, you couldn’t deny that it was starting to get annoying. The bear seemed to only be filled with reminders and such.

Mechanical whirring and clicking caught your attention. And, looking up, it seemed that Glamrock Freddy was back on his feet.

Slowly, he was approaching, with the little entrance sliding open for the animatronic once he was close enough.

Glamrock Freddy, you’d also noticed, seemed to be blinking way more than previously. It was weird.

Just barely out into the open, he came to an abrupt stop, which was even weirder. “Freddy?”

His ears twitched, and his head slowly spun around. Glamrock Freddy’s voice came through as a whisper. “I... can see through the-“

It was almost as if realization had hit him all at once, and his head lowered to look at you. “Gregory...”

“Yeah, Freddy?”

“These... are Roxy’s eyes. These are Roxy’s eyes!” He repeated, and you weren’t sure what the tone was in his voice.

Glamrock Freddy threw his hands up, and that was when another thing clicked for the animatronic bear.

“Monty’s claws?!”

He looked past them, and back at you. “Gregory, I told you! I told you that I would not go through with these ‘upgrades’.”

“But-“

“These eyes and claws belong to my friends, Gregory. I’d never wish to purposefully take something from them. It is-“

A quiet, awkward chuckle escaped from you. “And the voice box...”

“What?” Glamrock Freddy blinked.

“I gave you Glamrock Chica’s voice box, too.”

Glamrock Freddy’s gaze seemed to drift down to the ground. “Gregory, you knew very well what I told you. Why would you still do it?”

“These upgrades could help the both of us!” You insisted. “And they’ve been trying to hurt me the whole night... they deserved it!”

Glamrock Freddy just shook his head, no words managing to escape from him.

As you stared at him, you’d never seen an animatronic emote too much—or too well, really.

But in his—Roxy’s—eyes... you thought you saw what seemed like pure hurt.

Glamrock Freddy began to walk past you, towards the door. “I need to check on them...”

—

@balloonboyismyson

[magicandmundane]

Humor me for minute here, I need to scream and cry about the ballroom scene in Enchanted.

So.

For starters, Giselle and Robert are completely matching. His shirt and her dress are basically the same shade of purple, and his jacket and the cloak she wore when she walked in are the same velvet-y navy blue. They didn’t plan it. (I’m screaming.)

Side note: you know who may have planned it? Morgan. That’s right, she went shopping with Giselle, and her dad had probably shown her his fairytale-worthy fit earlier. Morgan already adored Giselle, and she could see her dad falling head over heels for the almost-princess despite his best efforts. So I’d be willing to bet good money the little shit (affectionate) did her best to influence Giselle’s choices and squealed as soon as Robert closed the door and went to the ball.

Anyway, Giselle and Edward get there, and Robert just stops. (I’m swooning.) We already know that Giselle had had a dream about Robert in that blue jacket, but do you think that he had a dream about her? Do you think that he had a dream about this fairytale princess in purple? That he woke up one morning and shook it off like it was nothing? That when he stopped and his jaw dropped at the sight of her, he suddenly remembered that beautiful dream? Because I think yes. NYC got dropped into a fairytale for a week, of course Mr. Just-Some-Guy-in-the-Real-World Robert had a dream about the love of his life.

And then that choreography. (Ugh my heart.) So beautiful, so intimate, so happy, so loving. Like every step they took they just fell deeper and deeper in love. Holy shit, that eye contact. Everyone else moving to the edges of the dance floor to give them space to just pop off. Robert whispering the lyrics of a song that was written just for the movie. “now you’re beside me and look how far we’ve come. so far, we are so close.” He had no reason to know those lyrics, just like everyone singing “That’s How You Know” had no reason to know that song and leave him constantly making a wtf face. But now the man is leaning into the fairytale. Because he loves her. (Someone just kill me already.)

Another side note: poor Nancy and Edward omg. They are witnessing what is quite possibly the most romantic ballroom dance of all time, and they were both planning to marry one of these idiots (affectionate). The matching “respectfully what the fuck” faces they both make will never not be hilarious to me, even though I feel for them.

And then there’s the quiet misery when they walk away from each other. (Cut my heart out with a rusty old spoon, why don’t you? It’ll hurt less.) Giselle and Robert are resigned to the lives they had previously chosen but no longer want. The look on her face when Narissa is handing her the apple is just gut wrenching. She would rather forget the love of her life than live without him and know he’s out there.

Last but not least, true love’s kiss. (I’m bawling.) Robert was Losing It™️ seeing Giselle inches from death, and then this idiot has the audacity to deny being her true love. But of course it’s him. “Please don’t leave me.” and “I knew it was you.” are just so so beautiful, tender, and intimate. Like that was for them and them alone, we are intruding. That kiss was so gentle and heartfelt. Then she pulls him even closer for a hug, and he cradles the back of her head. They are so relieved, they love each other so much.

Don’t even get me started on Robert’s “over my dead body,” Giselle going after the dragon, and that rooftop kiss in the rain. My poor heart just can’t take it right now.

[flowwriter]

In 2009, an expedition into the Pacific Ocean was commissioned by the Japanese government in order to determine the origin of an anomalous source of radiation. There was a belief that the cause of the radiation may have been a race of Kaiju, most likely members of titanus gojira. The source of the radiation was traced to Monster Island, which has previously been explored, however no living creatures were discovered (perhaps as a result of the 1974 Kaiju Extinction Event). However, basic shelters and primitive technologies were discovered and investigated. One such recovered written artifact has been translated and reproduced below.

What humans are like

Ichika Tanaka

Year 2 - Mrs Tsubuyara

One question all the kaiju on Monster Island [TRANSLATOR NOTE: The literal translation for this phrase is “Paradise” or “Sanctuary”, however, it is more commonly known as “Monster Island” ] really want to know is what humans are like and what happened between the kaijus and humans. Well the truth is we really don’t know because there’s not been many humans that have come to Monster Island and not that many kaiju have gone to Human Island so there’s no one to tell us. There’s been one kaiju that has gone to the humans, and his name was Godzilla. His name meant Hope and Peace on Planet Earth. There has been a few humans that have come to Monster Island but they’re all dead now, but we know a little bit about the humans from them.

Firstly, Godzilla was a Kaiju who really wanted to see the humans. He thought that we could learn a lot about them and make friends with them, and they could come over and see our big volcano. The island elders told him he couldn’t and said that if he went to the Human Island, then he could never come back. This made Godzilla sad. But he went anyway because he thought that humans were actually really nice and not like how all the stories saythey are. 

When he left, he didn’t ride in a boat because he thought it might scare the humans, so he just walked over. He must have been pretty tired and hungry by the time he got there! Hopefully there were nice sheep or cows that he could eat.

After that people never heard from Godzilla again. The island elders said that this was a lesson that humans were evil, because they killed such a good guy like Godzilla. This meant that no-one could ever go to Human Island again. Other people think that Godzilla liked it so much on human island that he didn’t want to come back because of all the good friends he made over there. That’s what I think anyway.

There has been a few humans who have come to Monster Island that anyone remembers. The first one was a human with white fur on his head who came in a boat. He landed on the shore and one of the elders came out to see him. The elders tried to talk to him but the human let out a war cry and began running around. The elder was worried that he was going to attack and kill the other kaiju so he ate him. A lot of years later, more humans came in a big big boat and started roaring at all the kaiju. They had little sticks which they pointed at the kaiju which made popping sounds. Apparently it was all very scary, so those guys got eaten too! [TRANSLATOR NOTE: Likely referring to the disappearance of the 1957 Kaiju Expedition team.] From that day on, everybody started saying that humans were evil and scary because they wanted to use those sticks to kill us. I think that they might just be scared because they were so small compared to us.

No humans came for a long time after that, which is probably good because I think they would’ve gotten eaten. There were some people who thought that all humans were evil and wanted to hurt the Kaiju, but some others thought that humans and the Kaiju could live together. I’d really like to live with the humans because I think they’d be fun to play with and they could take me on a ride in their boats. I’d really like to talk to Godzilla if he ever comes back so he can tell everyone how nice the humans are and that we should go live with them.

If I could I would tell the humans about the Kaiju Dances where I go sometimes. [TRANSLATOR NOTE: Referring to primitive, ritualistic and violent Sacrifice Ceremonies held by Kaiju. There is no direct evidence that Kaiju held leisure events similar to humans.] Last time I went I met up with Sue-Ann and we played Ring-A-Ring-A-Rosie, which was very fun. I would also tell them about the plays that get put on every month down at the theatre, last time they did one about Godzilla, where he had to learn to live with the humans. My favourite part about it was when he had to show them how to make [UNTRANSLATABLE], which was funny because everyone on Monster Island, even the kids, know how to make it! I would also tell them about my mum and dad [TRANSLATOR NOTE: Despite extensive research, there is still little evidence towards familial affection between Kaiju.], who are very nice to me and give me extra lamb if I’m good enough. I wouldn’t tell them about my little brother Eiji, who I think is a little [UNTRANSLATABLE], because if they knew about him, then I don’t think they would want to come at all.

In conclusion, we don’t really know what the humans are like but I’d really like to be friends with them. I hope that in the future we can all visit each other’s islands and we can all have fun together.

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

For wip Wednesday (please and thank you!): provide, extent, square, fuss

Thank you thank you my wonderful friend <3

Provide from chapter 3 of there is no other land:

“I know it’s hard for you to understand that, but it’s true, and I’m going to do my best to show you.” Jamie still didn’t look towards him, but even from his side profile, Roy could see Jamie was dubious of the statement, his jaw still tight with tension. 

“Why now? They teach you to have a fucking soul at those anger management classes?” “Maybe,” Roy said and continued honestly. “I wish I could tell you but I can’t fucking figure it out myself or provide a better explanation.

Extent in chapter 3 of rage, rage against the dying light (more Jamie spiraling):

Roy knew they were both in hospital, but Jamie was unsure if Roy realised the extent of either of their injuries. Jamie hadn’t previously paid much attention to the orthopedist when he was concerned about Roy. But he remembered timetables of six to eight, eight to twelve, sixteen weeks all bandied about. Jamie wasn’t worried about them then, but now he was. Now, he was very worried.

So the only square I have is from a silly little fic I've written but haven't finished where Roy's sister is actually also named Jamie :)

“Jamie Squared,” Jamie Tartt smiles.  “Oh, I like that. But I’m Jamie #1,” she says.  “Well, I think I would be Jamie #1,” Tartt starts.  “I’m older. And I’ve known Roy the longest. I’d be Jamie #1” “Yeah, but it was my idea,” Jamie pouts. “Don’t care.”

Fuss from the Georgie and Jamie fic, that star in the sky who watches over you:

James left when Jamie was two months old, but Georgie wasn't phased. In fact, she was relieved. The man she fell in love with as a teen had disappeared slowly, day after day, leaving only alcohol and bruises behind. All Georgie needed was her baby boy. So even on those days when Jamie would cry and fuss for what seemed like hours, it was okay because he was her sexy little baby, and all they needed was each other.