#elwood's corner

[pvtjxker]

The Full Metal Jacket fandom is split in two

-fans of war violence guns blood (most of it)

-gays (it's ten (10) of us and I know them all)

[pvtjxker]

Private Joker, Full Metal Jacket

Thomas Magnum, Magnum PI

Agent Jack "Whiskey" Daniels, Kingsman: The Golden Circle

Egon Spengler, Ghostbusters

Elwood Blues, The Blues Brothers

Marty McFly, Back To The Future

Horacio Carillo, Narcos

Jojo, Mystic Pizza

Eddie Munson, Stranger Things

König, Call Of Duty MW2

I literally have no idea of who to tag lol

I'll tag @rosemarynightmares becaue she's the only one I have in mind that I could tag rn

Tagged by @1990sshawnmichaels

Rules: Name 10 of your favourite characters from 10 different fandoms, then tag 10 people to do the same.

Kevin Owens - WWE

Steven Grant - Moon Knight

Jimmy Valmer - South Park

Mike “Thatcher” Baker - Rainbow Six Siege

Guillermo de la Cruz - What We Do In The Shadows

Adrian Toomes - Spiderman

Alejandro Vargas - Call of Duty MW2

Dell Conagher - Team Fortress 2

Usagi Miyamoto - Usagi Yojimbo/TMNT

Donnie Darko - Donnie Darko

Tagging @mistress-omega-majesty @sadcowboy6969 @bull-moose-penguin @catboymansion @mountain-dew-tickledpink @thederpyllamaoflove @pvtjxker @lessthanwilliam @taydaq @let-me-dream-with-the-stars

[jocelynships]

Y’all I’m cooked

The Blues Brothers officially recognize me

Bc why did the Elwood come right up to me while they were dancing with the crowd all happy and asking how I was doing, then smiling all big at me when he saw me come up 🫣

[lilithpleasant]

[gyllenhaalstories]

BODIES IN THE SAND — ELWOOD DALTON 🎂

summary: it’s your birthday and dalton wanted to make it special.

warnings: eating, mostly fluff & smut (making out, thigh riding). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2730

gifs credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: today is my birthday and i am, for the fourth year in a row, making it everyone’s problem with a (very boring) self indulgent fic. 🎈 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

The dock master waved at you when you passed by. You did not leave him enough time to repeat his speech about watching out for the damn crocs like a broken record. You had visited the Glass Key Marina so many times since meeting Dalton, one could think the old man would spare you the lecture. Whatever. This time, you ignored him. You stormed towards the wooden pier on a mission.

Dalton, now confident in Billy and Reef's abilities to handle the unruly patrons on their own (if they remembered to lift with their knees), allowed himself a night off from time to time. The pay as the bouncer of the roadhouse supported him plenty anyway. He did not splurge much, judging by the fishing box overflowing with stacks of cash. When he did spend his money, he would buy all the books Charlie recommended to him or he would treat you to his new favourite food, conch chowder.

You were usually the first person to know about his sporadic vacations, except for today. You drove to the roadhouse and Laura greeted you with a perplexed smile as to why you were there without Dalton. Frankie walked down the stairs from her office and expressed the same level of confusion. "Dalton called, said he's sick. I think the boat dreams are getting to him. Took him long enough." She explained before helping her employees to get the bar ready for another night. Dalton, sick? You stormed out of the bar with the same determination that made you beeline to The Boat.

"There you are." Dalton, who sat on the railing of the boat, stood up and turned around to greet you. The look on your face, painted with surprise, satisfied him, it was worth spending the entire afternoon decorating his corner of the marina. "Happy birthday."

You stood on a creaky wood plank and took in the scene. Orange balloons matched the colours of the sky as the early sunset reflected on the water. There were garlands and streamers, basically anything that could make the dock look festive. You scoffed at the Happy Thanksgiving banner attached to the back of the boat that clashed with the rest.

Dalton quickly justified. "I know... 'Was all Charlie could find." He worked on the ribbon of the balloon he had previously secured on the railing and held on it tight. He raised his leg to get off the boat, but you interrupted.

"I appreciate the thought. This looks so..." You spun on your heels and admired the decorations for a few more seconds. "This looks really nice. But that still won't get me to climb on that thing. It's literally sinking." You pointed at the rusty boat that the dock master constantly referred to as a frying pan. You wholeheartedly agreed with the older man.

"It's not sinking." He leaped from the boat to the dock. The tone of his voice failed to convince you. "... Yet." You both nodded in agreement. Not yet. Soon enough, Dalton would be taking a nap with the crocodile.

You let him come to you.

He tilted his head, eyes squinting at you. "You know, those little footsteps of yours sounded furious. Everything okay?" He clenched his jaw, already bracing up for bad news. It was all he seemed to attract: bad news.

"I should be asking you! Are you okay? I went to the bar and Frankie said you were sick."

"I don't get sick." He shook his head lightly.

"Then why did she tell me that?"

"Oh, I asked her to." He marked a pause, as if that was enough information. You pressed him to grant you with more details. "I thought it was a good excuse." There was a hint of pride in his grin.

"A good excuse that worried me a lot." Your attempt at reprimanding him failed miserably, especially when his grin widened while he stepped closer to you.

Dalton carefully tied the ribbon of the balloon around your right wrist. He then flicked the balloon, watching it bop. "Charlie and I have been planning this for a little while. Couldn't find a proper banner in time." His chin pointed at the Thanksgiving wishes.

"You can say something cheesy to make up for it." You suggested with a chuckle.

"I'm thankful that you're born?" Although he said it like a question, he was certain in the sincerity behind his words.

"That does the job." You both exchanged a moment of laughter. "Thank you for taking the time to decorate for my birthday."

"There's more." He guided you off the dock and through the makeshift path to the beach, always hovering a hand over your lower back to make sure he would be quick to react if you fell.

You let Dalton walk by the shore. Although you did not mind feeling the water run over your feet and ankles, he had insisted enough times that it was safer for you to stay on the other side. So you just let him do what he wanted. Your hand brushed over his a few times and you caught sight of the smirk on his lips.

He also noticed your head was turned towards the water so he pulled you to stand in front of him. He lost no time to hold your hand when you reached behind to grab his. Dalton mouthed a quiet wow when he took in just how beautiful you looked with the pink sunset sky.

Things were simple with Dalton. He did not talk much about what lead him to Glass Key, but you learned enough snippets of his life to know he wanted things to remain this way: simple. He liked the way you weaved yourself through the routine he built since working at the roadhouse. You'd visit before work, at work, after... You would hang out at the bookstore with Charlie, you would sit by the bar with Laura. It all felt simple. He did not hide his appreciation for the time you shared. He showed honesty in his intentions with you when a kiss turned into a lot more one too many times. Plenty of whispered praises, plenty of love filled gazes. You took it one day at a time with Dalton. And today was a special day in more ways than one.

Dalton bumped against you when you stopped walking abruptly at the sight of the makeshift picnic set up. Beach towels laid on the sand and held in place by a bunch of rocks and a pretty conch shell. It looked a little funky but he knew you could not care less. "After my first shift at the bar, Frankie told me this whole sales pitch about the place." He let go of your hand so you could wander towards the beach towels. "She said this was a beautiful spot to have a drink with someone special." Frankie was talking about the roadhouse, not the beach at the back of the marina but... It was close enough.

"She must be right." You sat down on the towel, Dalton joined you. He attempted to say something else, but the balloon floating in the evening breeze distracted him. You watched him intently as he untied the ribbon from your wrist and attached it to the handle of the cooler.

You exchanged a smile and enjoyed more of the sunset. You wondered to yourself how people could live in a beautiful place such as this and forget to pay attention. How could someone get used to a view like this? You certainly could never. You knew Dalton felt the same.

And Dalton knew what you were thinking about. He had travelled quite a bit, both for work and to escape it. He faced the same reflection time after time. "I don't know." He broke the silence, answering your unspoken question. "Maybe they don't have the right person by their side to remind them to appreciate the moment."

"I like the sound of that." You shifted closer to him and his hand slid along your lower back to find its place on your hip. "It's romantic."

"Wait 'til you hear about what I baked for your birthday..." He let out a small grunt when he stretched his arm towards the cooler to pull it closer.

"You can bake?"

"Nope." He opened the cooler and tilted in your direction. "But Charlie can." Kind of. He let you take a peak inside to admire the cupcakes that he prepared with the teenager and with Stephen on supervision duty.

You found it so endearing how he formed a bond with Charlie. Dalton even grew to like her comparisons to western novels and cowboy boots wearing broody heroes. You leaned in to admire the desserts and chuckled at the sight. "They're all squished."

"Shit." Dalton whispered at the sight of the dozen of misshapen cupcakes. He pulled out the tray and set it on the beach towel. He selected one that sort of held its shape during the transport from Charlie and Stephen's house to the beach. "I swear, I frosted them all nice for you." He grinned apologetically.

You grabbed the cupcake from his hand and took a bite. You swallowed thickly and tried to contain a funny face. "These are..."

"Burnt as hell." He stole a bite from the same cupcake and grimaced. He looked down at the rest of the desserts and began to explain that he was sorry, that he really tried to make your birthday special.

You interrupted him with a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "There was frosting." It was not entirely false, but you hoped this would stop the train of thoughts.

He still looked unsure, he worried that he had messed up.

So you kissed him again, on the same spot. You would usually let him lead and make the the first move so he would not feel trapped, but you wanted to reassure him. "Spending time with you is a nice gift on its own. So this?" You gestured around you. "This is great. And this." You held his head in your hands for a few moments, waiting for his lips to curl into a smile. "It's all I need to have a good time."

The smile stayed glued on his face even when you pulled away. You reached for the cupcake again and Dalton took it from your hand to put it back on the tray, slamming the cooler shut for good.

"You can't waste the cupcakes, you worked so hard to bake them for me." You would have eaten a couple of the sweets had he not stopped you, you wanted Dalton to know you liked the gesture.

"Then the crocodile can have them." You nodded, agreeing with his idea.

"Maybe he'll spare you for another night."

The sound of yours and Dalton's laughter blended together as one. "That's exactly what I was thinking." He replied.

"I know I just said I'm having a good time, but..." You crawled to kneel between his legs. You sat back, keeping a safe distance to let Dalton decide. "We can make it even better."

He considered the implications of your offer. Now, he felt like he was the one being celebrated. You were a real treat, kneeling before him with a gaze he had seen many times before. You wanted more... You wanted him. Dalton leaned in, glancing between your eyes and your lips.

You let him come closer until your mouths met in a gentle kiss, mirroring what you did moments ago.

His nose brushed against yours while he left you longing for another kiss. The small nod of his head told you everything you needed to know.

You erased the distance completely and kissed him again with your head tilted to the side.

Dalton's fingertips caressed along your arms and guided you to wrap them around his neck. He deepened the kiss when he felt one of your hands cradling the back of his head.

You hummed when his hands began to explore your body. The gentle touching up and down your back grew in eagerness.

Dalton's hands gripped firmly on your hips, pulling you closer. He placed a hand under your thigh and positioned you how he wanted. He took it slow, one step at a time. His hand travelled back up to the curve of your ass that he squeezed a little bit harsher than you expected.

The whimper you let out only encouraged him to keep going while his feverish touches fuelled you to take this further. Your tongue traced his lips before he parted his mouth open.

Your tongues danced together while he let go of you briefly to unbutton his shirt. Immediately after, your hands were all over him. Your fingertips followed the shape of his collarbone down to the curve of his pecs to end on the valley between his abs. You printed each and every detail of Dalton in your mind.

Your loving touch spread goosebumps on his skin, or perhaps it was the breeze getting cooler. The sunset reached its last instants, the sun appeared to be swallowed by the ocean far beyond the horizon. The marina was peaceful, but not quiet. Soft whimpers and grunts filled the silence as the waves slowly hit the sand.

You paused to catch your breath, Dalton could not take his eyes off your kiss swollen lips. "Wanna make you feel good." He whispered against your lips before leaning in again to let his tongue invade your mouth. His hands rested on your hips, squeezing the flesh and making your body move back and forth.

You ached from the lack of direct contact with him, you needed to feel him. But, again, you wanted to respect how far he seemed willing to go.

So he put his words into actions. Dalton made you straddle his thigh, trying to adjust the best he could to make sure you were comfortable. With his hands on your ass again, he began to make you grind on him. At first the movements were tentative, he let you adjust to the friction between your core and the clothes. But when you moaned at his ear, he could no longer hold back.

You rocked your hips back and forth, succumbing to the ever-growing hunger for more. More of this heated intimacy, more of Dalton's warm skin on yours... More.

Every time a door opened, Dalton closed it by repeating that you were a nice person, that you did not want to know him in that way, that you did not want to get close to him.

Yet, you waited. You showed him you had all the patience in the world for him. You showed that you were not out to get him, that you simply wanted to make Dalton feel good too.

You succeeded. The more you waited and reassured him that you would respect his boundaries, the more Dalton wanted to explore what lied beyond those limits.

"I don't want to stop." You murmured at his ear, trailing kisses from his ear and along his jaw until your lips connected again.

"I don't wanna stop either." His grip tightened on your hips, forcing you to slow down. "But since you refuse to get on the boat with me..."

You remained categorical, he would never convince you to step foot in that death trap. "We can go back to my place."

"Oh yeah?" Dalton kept you immobile, pressed down on his thigh. Your whine of complaint sounded like music to his ears. "You think you can wait that long?" It was quite the drive between the beach and your home. If either of you had the genuine intention to leave, you would have done in a while ago. "I'm not too sure about that."

You scoffed at his assumption. "Can you wait?"

Dalton answered your question by capturing your lips with his in a rough kiss. He slowly, carefully, helped you to lay on your back. He guided your legs apart to make space, his gaze meeting yours while his hands caressed your thighs. He let the tension build, he needed you to give him one more sign that you wanted this just as much as he did. When your hips bucked forward, your body pressing more against his, he grinned. "I've waited long enough."

[wrens-garden]

I've watched this CMV about 10 times. The song, acting, and story is so good. So you know, if you haven't watched it, I think you should

The first time Mojave appears, they look so suspicious. Just coming round a corner to invite you somewhere. I found that very funny.

I loved the getting ready scene so very fun and cool. Vast getting hit in the face by clothes. Very funny.

On no Sylphs driving, that part of the fic was great. Ash and Sylph racing inside? So very them. Elwood reading at a party? Iconic of him. Taliesan and Mojave bumping into each other, we love that.

The dancing. Taliesan and Mojave dancing together, Ash and Sylph putting on the moves, Erin checking Elwood was all good. Vast sitting in the corner, then dancing with Rune. I love this so much.

Okay, okay, okay. That scene between Armor and Vast? It never truly registered how close they were until this CMV. I didn't realise until I was watching and went 'are you two about to kiss? Did I miss a scene' No I didn't miss a scene I'm just a dumbass.

Anyway, I'm so very excited for future chapters. It is very fic. You should read it if you haven't already

[d3add0vedonoteat]

Reunion

Elwood Dalton x Reader

There is a disturbing lack of fanfic about this man and I'm dedicated to fixing that. I'm aggressively thirsty for this man.

Short fluffy fic, no warnings (just me frothing at the mouth).

Summary: you broke up with Dalton and are reunited where you least expect it.

The morning sun shone gently on your face. You sighed, contentedly, holding a warm mug of coffee to your chest. The boat you had come to call home rocked softly at the dock. It was peaceful.

Life had not always been this way, in fact this was a far cry from how your nights blurred together. You sighed again, no longer content as memories of your ex came flooding back. He was… intense. He wasn't bad to you; he didn't yell or scare you or hurt you. He had been a masochist, if anything. For the years you were together, every second of every day revolved around him… training, fighting, winning.

You threw yourself into it as much as he did. Your arms burning the next day after holding mitts for him for hours, your kitchen a disaster zone after prepping an ungodly amount of food for his bulking and cutting phases, your stomach tied up in knots as you swiped Vaseline on his brow in the corner of the octagon. You loved him.

Another heavy sigh.

Then he'd kiss you and it made every moment of exhaustion so, so worth it. Sweaty from a long training session, he'd scoop you up and take you to shower with him. He never got tired of the various “meat-rice-vegetable” meals you threw together, despite quickly running out of ideas to make them different. Even bloody and swollen, high on adrenaline mid fight he'd smirk up at you, promising to win. He was cocky and charming and beautiful and no matter how far away you went, you would always love Elwood Dalton.

You shook the train of thought from your mind as you went about your day. Glass Key had welcomed you more than it typically does outsiders. When you had first come, the old man you purchased your houseboat from had shrugged and said “you've got salt in your blood”. That seemed to be enough for the other locals. You truly enjoyed the peaceful life you'd carved out for yourself. You took your dingy out of the bay every morning, diving down to harvest conch for the local restaurants. You weren't going to get rich, but it afforded you more than enough for your purposes. More importantly, it had made you a part of the community. You were far away from the lights of Vegas and the smell of bleached mats. You relished the salt that clung to your skin, the bow of your boat lined with vibrant conch shells drying in the sun, watching the sun dip below the distant edge of the sea… you pushed away the persistent feeling that something- someone- was missing.

You were normally fairly solitary, perhaps that was part of what made the locals embrace you. Intrigue. But on rare occasion, you'd venture up to the Road House which was a relatively short distance from where you docked. The previous owner had a boat next to yours, aptly named “The Boat”. He had been one of the first to make you feel at home. It was chaotic and rowdy and you almost always ducked out quickly once fights broke out. But the music was always good and sometimes you couldn't help but miss the chaos. It reminded you of… him?

You blinked, dumbfounded. It had to be a trick of your mind. You must have just been thinking about him too much… or swallowed too much saltwater. You slowly approached the bar, glancing sideways at the shockingly familiar face like he was a wild animal.

“Hey!” Laura chimed with a smile. “Want a Cuban coffee? I'm just about to make one for our new friend!”

You cursed her bubbliness as she gestured to the man a few seats down from you. He gave a soft chuckle through the nose, his eyes sliding casually to you. The moment your gaze connected, surprise flashed across his schooled face. He did a double take, then hesitated. You weren't sure what to say. So you offered a shy smile. “Hey, El… long time.”

He gaped at you. “Uh… yeah. Long time.” You couldn't help the way your heart squeezed at the familiar, sarcastic drawl of his voice.

“You two know each other?” Laura asked.

Dalton laughed, a loud burst. You blushed. “We, um,” you cleared your throat.

“She dumped me.” He inserted. You rolled your eyes, shuffling over so you were seated beside him.

“You deserved it.”

He stared at you with captivating firmness, impassive and intimidating as always. That softness he always had, just for you, thrived in his core. He leaned closer, placing his massive hand on your forearm. “God, I missed you.”

You felt like tumbling back into his arms, forgetting the past and begging him to never let you go… but the past couldn't be forgotten.

“What are you doing here?” You didn't mean to sound so accusatory. Dalton sighed, withdrawing his hand.

“Frankie, the owner, she hired me to be security.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Getting paid to hurt people, huh? Your specialty.”

“Hey, you used to love my specialty.”

“No, El.” Tears pricked at your eyes as you looked at this ghost of your past. “I loved you.”

When you made it back to your boat, you threw yourself down on your bed. The tears overwhelmed you before you could even understand what they were for. For seeing him, for missing him, for still loving him? You didn't know, you just let them wash over you in purifying saltwater. When you finally emerged from your emotional cocoon, it was late. The sky was deep, only black. You sat down on the bow of your boat, letting the cool air calm your red cheeks. The sound of footsteps kicked your defenses online. You whirled around to the dock.

“Are you kidding me?” You couldn't help it. The universe was clearly taunting you. Dalton stood aboard The Boat, a short 4 feet from you.

He broke out into a wry smile. “Would you look at that?”

He squinted closer at you in the dim light and his smile fell. “Why are you crying?”

His concern was so tender, it broke your last defense and you burst into new tears. “Shit, I’m coming over!”

Dalton leapt from his boat, scrambling across the dock and up to you. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his strong lap. You melted into him, grasping at his shirt and burying your face in his neck. He was everything you remembered; solid and real. “I miss you,” you blubbered. “I just- I couldn't do it, you n-never had any time for me. I just w-wanted to be… just us.”

He didn't say anything, just let you cry while he held you. Eventually, your tears diminished. You looked up at him with big glossy eyes. It stirred something in Dalton.

He brought his hand to your cheek, defying every fiber in his brain to be especially gentle. “I really haven't been the same without you… honestly, I…” he trailed off with a sigh, tucking you under his chin.

“What if we just forget it?” He murmured. “I'm a long way from main cards now… just.. give me a chance?”

You nuzzled into him, your heart tugging. “Don't bring any trouble back to my boat.”

[itsgreti]

THE NEW BOUNCER

pairing. elwood dalton x f!reader

summary. a new motorcycle gang is causing trouble, but the new bouncer solves the problem within a minute.

warning. cursing, mentions of physical injuries

word count. 1,2k

a/n: hey guys! it's literally my first ff ever, i just wanted to try out how hard is writing in another language, and i can tell you that i was struggling a bit haha. english is my second language, so if you find any mistakes, don't hesitate and text me! (divider is made by rookthornesartistry)

Working in the Road House was eventful. During the daytime, it was peaceful, but as night approached, the bar was no stranger to chaos. Lately, the trouble was caused by a motorcycle club, and its leader, Dell. He was the main source of broken tables and fights. Every night, he would swagger in, eyes glinting with wickedness. Tonight, however, things were going to be different.

(Y/N) had been working as a waitress at the Road House for a few years now. She had quickly become a favourite among the customers for her sense of humour and warm smile. But Dell's recent attention was anything but welcome. He would glance at her from across the bar, making nasty comments that sent shivers down her spine. She had tried to ignore him as much as possible, even helping Billy kick their ass out of the bar, but it had only led to swollen, bruised eyes of Billy and rude words to (Y/N).

Frankie’s only option to eliminate Dell and his gang was to find a new bouncer, and Elwood Dalton was the perfect candidate. He was known for his calm manner and challenging fighting skills. Initially hesitant, Dalton accepted the offer, as he had no other choice.

The other day, Dalton arrived to Glass Key, and as he walked through the door of the bar, (Y/N) couldn't help but stare at him from behind the counter. Tall, muscular, he was different from the usual arrivals, and he was an unfamiliar face compared to the regulars. He took in the scene with a keen eye, assessing the surroundings before making his way deeper into the bar. He met (Y/N)’s eyes.

"Hey there, what can I get you?" (Y/N) asked, her voice steady and friendly. It was rare for new faces to arrive with luggage in their hand.

"A black coffee, please." Dalton replied, his tone polite but firm.

"Um, we don’t have that. But you can try our Cuban coffee. It’s different, but it works the same." (Y/N) replied with a smile. Dalton agreed and waited her to prepare it. While he was waiting, he took in the ambiance. As she handed him the coffee, their eyes met, and she felt a strange sense of reassurance. There was something about him that made her feel safer already.

"You're new here," she said, more as a statement than a question.

Dalton nodded. "Just started today. Name's Dalton."

"(Y/N)," she replied with a smile. "Welcome to the Road House."

"Thanks, ma’am. Do you know where can I find Frankie?" he asked with a small smile at the corner of his lips.

She quickly pointed at a small room. "Yes, up there." Dalton acknowledged her, poured down the coffee, and made his way up to his new boss.

As the day went on and the light of the moon reflected into the bar, the place filled with people. The air buzzed with music and laughter. (Y/N) didn’t stop working for a moment as more and more customers ordered drinks. There were small fights, but Billy and Reef quickly wrapped them up. Dalton sat at the side of the counter and admired (Y/N)'s endurance and resilience as she also tried to put the too-drunk people in place.  

"The bar is always that packed?" Dalton asked (Y/N), who was mixing a cocktail with a customer.

"Yeah… " (Y/N) replied and handed over the drink to a girl. "But it’s normal, until-" Before she could finish her sentence, the mood shifted the moment Dell and his ass gang walked in. (Y/N)'s heart sank; she had been hoping for a quiet night and Billy had enough black eye for today.

"Wow, it’s like a morgue in here," Dell shouted and flipped the table in front of him for no reason. He scanned the room, his gaze immediately locking onto (Y/N). Dalton, watching from the aisle, tensed.

Dell made his way through the crowd, knocking over a couple of chairs in his path. He reached the billiard table to play some rounds as he had the past days, but he again terrified the other regulars. Billy came over to him and told him to get out, but Dell just laughed and pushed him back.

"Oh, Billy. You’re that stupid?" Dell laughed with his company next to him. "You didn’t learn, did you?" (Y/N) watched it behind the counter and decided to end it finally. She loved Billy as if he was her brother and couldn’t watch it anymore as the biker beat him up by and made everyone's life miserable. Dalton followed her every movement and decided to stand up if anything happens.

"Hey! Get the fuck out, now!" (Y/N) said with anger in her voice and stand in front of Billy.

"Ay, sweetheart. You’re here to protect your little guy?" Dell snorted and grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards him. "How about you and I get out of here and maybe I won’t give him another black eye?" he slurred, his grip tightening.

(Y/N) tried to pull away, her voice steady despite her fear. "Let go of me."

Dell laughed, a cruel sound that sent a wave of anger through Dalton. Before (Y/N) could say anything more, Dalton was there, his presence a wall of protection between her and Dell.

"She asked you to let go." Dalton said, his voice calm but firm.

"Who the hell are you?" Dell sneered.

"Dalton," he replied calmly. "And you're done causing trouble here."

Dell scoffed, but he released (Y/N). "What are you gonna do about it, Dalton?"

Dalton didn't respond. Instead, he moved with a speed that caught Dell off guard. In a matter of seconds, Dell was on the ground, gasping for breath and clutching his stomach where Dalton had landed a perfectly aimed punch.

The bar fell silent; every eye now was on Dalton. He looked around, making sure his message was clear. There was something about him that commanded respect. "This bar is under new management. Anyone who wants to cause trouble will have to answer to me."

Dell scrambled to his feet, fury in his eyes. He charged at Dalton, but Dalton sidestepped, using Dell's momentum against him. Dell crashed into a table, breaking it under his weight. The crowd burst into cheers, and a couple of regulars moved to help Dalton drag Dell's friends out of the bar.

Once Dell and the others were outside, Dalton turned back to (Y/N). She was shaken but unharmed, her eyes filled with gratitude.

"Thank you," she said, her voice a little shaky. "He’s been a problem for a while, but it was the first time he…" she tried to continue but felt a hand on her shoulders.

Dalton gave her a reassuring smile. "You don't have to worry about him anymore. If he comes back, he'll regret it."

(Y/N) nodded, relief washing over her. As the bar slowly returned to its usual noise and chaos, she felt a newfound sense of safety. (Y/N) handed him another beer, on the house this time. With Dalton around, she knew she could handle whatever came her way.

And as for Dalton, he couldn't help but feel a deepening admiration for (Y/N). She was strong and brave, and he was determined to make sure she never had to face trouble alone again.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XLIII)

Chapter 43: ‘The whole world depends on your pure eyes and all my blood flows into their gaze’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some cuteness, some cuteness!!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 4472

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

The curve of your eyes winds around my heart, A round of gentleness and dance, Halo of time, night cradle and safe, And if I no longer know all that I’ve lived It’s that your eyes haven’t always seen me.

Leaves of day and foam of dew, Reeds of the wind, scented smiles, Wings shading the world of light, Boats brimming with sky and sea, Hunters of noise and sources of colour,

Scents bloomed from a brood of dawns That still rests on a bed of stars, As the day depends on innocence The whole world depends on your pure eyes And all my blood flows into their gaze.

Paul Eluard, Capitale de la douleur, 1929

Summer. Emerald waves tainted the sea with white foam. Warmth. Rest. Vacations. Rain…

… it was Galway, after all, rain was never far away.

Andrew was getting frustrated. He was so excited to go on this vacation with you, you had spent so much time planning, and talking about it, and awaiting this trip…

… and now it was raining. It was cold. You were lost. In the middle of fucking nowhere. Stuck behind some bloody sheep…

Only in Ireland, really… It was fucking August, for God’s sake…

He heard you letting out a long exhale, feeling your frustration creeping through every corner of the car, your negative energy matching his.

He knew you would end up fighting. It didn’t happen often, but every couple fought from time to time. It had never been important, never been anything you couldn’t get passed in a matter of minutes. Your fights had always grown out of frustration over situations, like this one iteration of everything going wrong…

On the back seat, Elwood was growing restless. Andrew could hear its heavy breaths, the noise of his fur moving against the fabric of the seats. Even him was getting annoyed now.

“You should have turned left.”

There it was. Andrew knew you had longed to voice that sharp remark. To be fair, you were right, he was the one who had insisted to turn right at a previous intersection, hence getting the three of you lost.

He was not in the mood to be a reasonable adult and recognising his wrongs though.

“Next time, you’ll drive, so you can take all the bad decisions, and I can do the blaming. You had the map…”

“We have a fucking GPS…”

“Which is not currently working in this godforsaken land…”

“And I told you to turn left, and you didn’t listen!”

“Again, just take the fucking wheel then!”

You exchanged a glare, your eyes sparkling with thunder, before you huffed and looked at the time on your phone.

“We won’t catch the ferry. We should turn back.”

“We can still catch it.”

“It’s leaving in less than half an hour…”

“We can still catch it.”

“Andrew! We have no fucking clue where we are! We’re stuck behind those bloody sheep! We will not make it to the ferry, so let’s just… go back to the house.”

“You’re getting defeated…”

“No, I’m realistic. We’ll never get there on time, and especially not with these bloody sheep!”

“And what am I supposed to do about it?!”

You stared at each other for a moment. And then you did something Andrew had not predicted.

You unfastened your seat belt, opened the car door, and left.

You climbed out of the car, forcefully slammed the door shut. And you started walking across the road, walking ahead without so much as a glance in his direction. You had barely managed a few steps that you were already soaked.

As he stared at you walking under the rain, walking away from the car, walking away from him, all traces of anger left Andrew’s body. Instead, an old fear came back, raging, blurring his world for a second.

You were leaving…

In the span of a handful of seconds, mere seconds, his brain raced to the worst scenario possible. His thoughts stopped being logical and were filled with his worst fear instead.

You were sick of him. You regretted moving in with him. You wanted your ex back all over again. You would have been happier with Frank than with him. You were leaving, dumping his arse, it was over…

God… how could he survive that? You were… you were… he couldn’t…

But then you did turn around.

“ANDREW! HELP ME OUT FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

He frowned, unable to move.

“ANDY! COME HELP ME OUT!”

That was when he finally realised what you were doing. You weren’t leaving. You weren’t walking out of his life. You weren’t breaking up with him, you were…

He saw you moving your arms in the air, calling through the heavy rain towards the scattered sheep, and he finally understood that you were trying to gather them all on the side of the road, towards an open field.

He tried to regulate both his breathing and his heartbeat while he climbed out of the car, securing his coat around his frame to protect himself from the cold rain.

He was panicking over nothing. You weren’t leaving. You weren’t leaving. It was fine… he was fine… all fine…

He longed to hurry to you, but his body couldn’t. It was a strange mixture of tiredness, frustration, remnants of anger, and fear. Mostly fear.

He had to stop overthinking everything. You weren’t like that. You loved him, and he knew that, deep down… it was just difficult for him to believe he was that lucky sometimes. He couldn’t help it…

You turned to him as he approached.

“We need to get them out of the way,” you said, your voice still shaking with anger.

You were visibly surprised when he wrapped his arms around you, held you in a fragile embrace. He felt you instantly relaxing, your body growing numb into his arms as you reached up to hold him as well.

“I’m sorry I got mad,” you mumbled under your breath, although you were still frustrated.

“I’m sorry too.”

“We should go back.”

“I’m sorry. You were excited about this trip.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“It is though.”

“It’s okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, honey.”

You didn’t hesitate a second to say it back, to pick up on one of his pet names again. And he ought to stop overthinking everything, but he couldn’t…

“Let’s go back to the car. You’re soaked, love. You’ll catch your death. Come on,” he prompted you towards the car, and you followed him.

Andrew made a U-turn, drove back to the small cottage-like house you were renting during your two weeks in Galway. The drive back was quiet, but the silence was comfortable and warm again. All traces of frustration seemed to have disappeared from your features by the time you reached the cottage. It had stopped raining too, so you didn’t get even more drenched as you walked from the car to the front door.

You heaved a relieved sigh as you stepped inside the warm house, you wiggled happily as you took off your coat.

“We can try to get to the ferry again tomorrow,” Andrew started, his tone cautious.

You surprised him with a shrug.

“We could. We’ll see.”

“I thought you wanted to…”

“Andy… it’s alright. I don’t care. Don’t overthink this. It’s just an afternoon, it was just an activity. We can stay here today, relax, enjoy each other’s company. I don’t mind if we don’t go see the Arans. I don’t mind at all. I promise.”

Andrew forced his shoulders to relax.

“We can still go later this week.”

You nodded, a playful glimmer shining in your eyes.

“Although, next time, we’ll turn left,” you quipped, teasing him while gently pinching his side.

He rolled his eyes, but a smile was back on his lips. If you were joking around, it meant that you weren’t mad. Good… that was good…

“You should take a shower, love. You’re freezing,” Andrew spoke in a quiet, warm voice, the one he knew always soothed you. He let his knuckles brush the sharper edge of your cheekbone, hated the coldness of your skin, longed for you to be warm and content again.

You nodded, taking off your jumper and wet jeans as you made your way to the bathroom.

“Actually, I think I’ll take a bath. We can take our time today, relax.”

You turned around, tilted your head a little in a tempting way as you spoke again. Andrew was having a hard time looking at your eyes instead of the length of your naked legs…

“Want to join me?” you smiled.

He gave you a suggestive look.

“In the bath? Or in bed?”

You bit down on your lower lip, and Andrew was gone for good. God, you had him wrapped around your finger… were you aware of the extent of his need for you?

“Hmm… bed first, then a bath? After all, we did fight… Some make-up sex is in order, no?”

He hummed, nodding his head as he walked closer to you. This time he didn’t refrain his urge to let his gaze travel down your legs, marvelling at their perfect curves, his fingers tingling already at the thought of touching them, feeling the softness of your skin, your warmth spread through his palms…

When he stopped, right before you, and looked up at your eyes again, there was something inviting in your gaze. He knew this look very well by now. It was the one that granted silent permission, the one that said I want you too, you can touch me…

His heart swelled at the thought that you were granting him the right to be this close to you now. That you were allowing him, even inviting him, to touch you. To kiss you. To worship your body… and he would. For the coming hour, he planned to do nothing but worship you, in the hopes that you would read in his adoration how much he loved you. How much he cared. How much he needed you.

You were staring right into his eyes as your hands slowly rose to his chest, as you peeled his cardigan off his body. There was so much tension in the air then, electric, as heavy as your stammering breaths, while you slowly unfastened the buttons of his white shirt. One button at a time. At an excruciatingly slow pace…

He let you do it though, do as you pleased with him. He loved it, the way you were setting a pace now. The way you were taking control. There was a quiet tenderness in each of your touches that told him he was safe with you, that you would never do him harm, that he could lay his heart, his body, his life into your hands, and despite that power over him, you wouldn’t destroy him.

He needed to stop overthinking everything…

He helped you slide his shirt off his shoulders, let you rest your palms on his undershirt, one hand on of each of his breasts.

“I love you.”

He grinned at the tender confession.

“I love you too.”

When you reached up to kiss him, it felt like breathing after a lifetime without air, like relief, like being alive…

At last… at fucking last…

This ought to be heaven.

After your pleasurable reconciliation, you opted to take a bath together. An hour spent in pleasure was incredible, but also exhausting, and both of you longed for rest now. Sharing a bath offered the warmth and quiet perfect for your tired bodies, and the intimacy you both craved after sex.

Andrew smiled at the memory.

Incredible sex, actually…

You heaved a content sigh as you readjusted your head against his shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. His brain was fuzzy with a happy static, the kind he had never experienced before. A strange sense of peace, contentment, happiness… but that felt better than all of that combined. He couldn’t explain it. He felt it only with you, that was for sure…

“Your skin is so soft,” he mused, trailing his fingers across your waist and hip, speaking without thinking.

It felt so soothing to have you in his arms like this. There was something grounding, reassuring, and delightfully vulnerable in lying here with you, naked, sharing a bath and cuddling. You seemed to have a special power, one that made his busy brain grow quiet.

You chuckled at his words, kissed his chest as a reward.

“Yours is soft too,” you nodded, caressing his chest as if to stress your words.

Andrew shifted his legs, unfolding them to prop his feet on the edge of the bathtub, making the water and its bubbles shift with his movements. You had added some scented salts, and he liked it. It was soothing. It felt so nice.

Loving you was so good…

You giggled, making him look at you again.

“God… even this gigantic bathtub is too small for you…”

He laughed then, bright and happy with your teasing. He wiggled his toes for good measure, making you break into laughter once more.

“Can’t help it,” he shrugged.

“I love that about you. That you’re really tall.”

“Do you, now?”

You hummed in response.

“It’s sexy.”

He chuckled, his cheeks turning a brighter shade of pink.

“Oh… so I’m sexy?”

He wiggled his eyebrows, making you laugh.

“Of course you are,” was your only answer, offered as if it was obvious.

Sometimes he forgot that you loved him this way. Like it was easy. Like there was nothing more natural in the world. That was how he felt for you; loving you felt as natural as filling his lungs with air, blinking at the bright sun, moving his leg over yours in bed. It was easy. Obvious. Ineffable.

You said that you felt like that, too. If it were a truth, it was a hard one to believe in. He wanted to though, longed for the safety of certainty.

He looked up at the ceiling, let out a long exhale as you nuzzled into his neck again, ran your fingers across his chest in such a soothing way, he almost closed his eyes.

He needed to stop overthinking this. You were here, in his arms, naked, loving him… it ought to be proof enough that you truly wanted him.

This fear he had felt in the car, seeing you walk away, this… uncontrollable dread that you could leave… He had to stop thinking about it, but he couldn’t.

What if you left?

He tried to picture his life without you in it. There would still be Elwood, his parents, his brother, Alex, his friends, his classes, his writing, music, poetry. He could find someone else, eventually. He hated every part of it…

When he pictured you in the same scenarios, everything seemed brighter. His life was better simply because you were in it. He tried to think of his life in a year, in five years, in ten years, in sixty years… Every time the life he wanted had you in it. He couldn’t picture a future that was happy without you being a part of it.

He had never felt like that before. Even with Sam. He had thought he would always love her, and yet, there were bits of his life that he didn’t picture her into. He could imagine living on his own, he could imagine his career, his friends, his family… without Sam in it, and still be content.

Not with you. All these lonesome pictures felt wrong. You were missing…

He thought of his life, the one that awaited him, that laid at his feet, and he didn’t want to live it without you.

“What are you thinking about?”

Your voice was quiet, warm. When he looked down at you again, if there was puzzlement in your gaze, there was infinite tenderness too.

He wanted this to last forever. You. Him. Forever…

He never wanted this to end. And somehow, he just knew then. That the reason why he couldn’t picture a happy life without you, was simply because you were the one for him. You were the love of his life. And his heart would always be yours.

He thought he would be scared by such a realisation, but he wasn’t. He reckoned the feelings had been in his heart for too long, had become a part of him. He was simply putting words on what he felt. You were the love of his life. He was so happy it was you…

He wanted to believe that you felt the same, but he wasn’t sure. It was okay. One day, perhaps, he would be. If he loved you for long enough, if he let you love him fully, perhaps, one day, he would stop being afraid of losing you.

Instead of answering by any of these thoughts, he cupped your cheek, gave you a tender smile.

“Nothing important. I love you, that’s all.”

Andrew was on the porch, you could hear him play the guitar. A soft melody you didn’t know, perhaps it was his own. You encouraged him to write full songs, but he kept on claiming he didn’t really want to. Poetry was enough. Music was enough. The two entities didn’t need to mingle. Sometimes he did play some guitar, hummed a melody to match one of his poems. Which you called ‘writing a song’, but he called it ‘exploring a theme through different media’. You rolled your eyes at him every time.

After the heavy rains of the afternoon, the evening was sunny and surprisingly warm. Outside, the sun was setting, kissing the hills goodbye as it lingered on their tops, flashing its golden hues into the sky before it would grow dark. You walked out with a cup of warm tea in each of your hands, took a moment to watch the beautiful colours in the sky, all golden and orange fading into red. It was quiet, you had rented a small house as an AirBnB in the country side, and there was no one around. Your closest neighbours owned a farm about a kilometre away, the road leading to the cottage was rarely used. You let your eyes travel across the fields, the green of grass, the deeper shades of bushes, the winding lines of stone walls. It was magical, in a way. There was something anchoring to this land, that made you feel like you belonged there.

The soft melody resumed on Andrew’s guitar, you turned to him. Elwood was lying at his feet with his eyes closed, but the movement of his tail told you he wasn’t asleep. Andrew was sitting on a wooden bench, right under the window of the kitchen, his legs stretched before him and taking up the whole width of the porch. His fingers danced on strings, he was humming every now and then. His notebook was by his side, open on a page stained with black ink. It was the notebook you had offered him the previous year, for his birthday. He never went anywhere without it. He seemed so peaceful, a content smile tugging at his lips. His long hair was tight in a messy bun, and he was gorgeous in an old pair of jeans and a blue plaid shirt, his skin and hair bathed in the golden light of the sinking sun. Beyond him, hills rolled, green and gorgeous. Andrew was all you could see.

You remained standing there, motionless, like a fool, staring at your partner with awe written all over your features. It was such a mundane, simple sight. And yet, it struck you then. The depth of your feelings for him, your longing for this never to end, for him never to leave.

It was silly… so silly… to realise that truth just by watching him, in casual clothes, playing mindless melodies on his guitar. And yet, that was the moment when you admitted to yourself that this was the life you wanted. You. Him. Forever. You never wanted this to end.

And God, he told you he loved you daily, showed it even more in a thousand actions and attentions he had for you each day. And yet, a part of you was still afraid he would leave, that you could lose him. What would you do without him?

You hadn’t noticed the music fading, too busy getting lost in the green of his eyes as he turned to you.

“You’re alright, love?” he asked, accent thick on his tongue with the fondness of his words, while he tilted his head.

You shook yourself, walked over to him.

“Yeah, yeah… I’m okay,” you smiled. “Made you some tea.”

“Oh, thanks!”

He accepted the cup you offered, moved his notebook so you could sit by his side. You didn’t mean to pry, you knew Andrew would not want you to read his writing unless he offered to tell you about it, so you looked away from the notebook as soon as you caught the title of his new poem.

That You Are.

“It’s about you,” he explained, noticing your glimpse at the notebook.

“I didn’t read…”

“I know. I trust you.”

You exchanged a smile.

“Are you really writing about me?” you asked, feeling shier now.

He chuckled, kissed your cheek.

“Who else could I write about? You’re my partner…” he answered, bending slightly in search of your gaze.

“I don’t know… your mistress…”

He laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re right, she’s hiding in the trunk of our car.”

“Can she breathe in there?”

“Bottle of oxygen.”

“Clever.”

He shook his head at you while laughing, but when he spoke again he was serious once more.

“It’s not quite finished, you can’t read it for now.”

“That’s okay. Do you want to tell me more about what it’s about?”

He shrugged, blushing.

“It’s about… being in love with you. And… wanting to be where you are all the time.”

He stared at you, and you couldn’t help yourself when you reached up to cup his jaw and kiss his lips.

“What about the music?”

“Just…something I’ve been thinking about. To go with the poem.”

“So… you’re writing me a song now? Am I about to be serenaded?”

He laughed, shaking his head.

“You’re insufferable,” he mumbled, before shushing your unspoken teasing with a quick kiss.

“I like it when you sing.”

“I know.”

There was something emotional shining in his eyes, but he didn’t speak more about it, and you let him draw the conversation away.

“What have you been up to?” he asked, taking a sip of his warm beverage while he put his guitar away.

He always asked these kinds of questions. At the end of every day he asked about how your classes had been, how was your research, how you were feeling. What had you been doing during the hours you had spent apart? It wasn’t prying, if you didn’t want to tell him, he didn’t insist. He just… genuinely wanted to know how your day had been. And you did the same for him. You remembered a time when you had settled for less than that simple, daily gesture. What an idiot you had been…

“I was just checking the weather for the coming days. It should be sunny on the Arans in a couple of days, so perhaps we could stay on the main land tomorrow. Perhaps a nice trek? It should rain early in the morning, but it’ll clear before noon.”

Andrew nodded, sipping on his tea, readjusting his glasses. At his feet, Elwood was now napping for good.

“We can drive to the national park, it isn’t far from here” he offered, looking at your phone as you showed him a page that referenced some paths across the wilderness of Connemara.

“Yeah, I thought we could walk around a lough.”

You studied the maps for a while, decided which path you would take the next day. Once the plans for your little adventure were sorted, Andrew gave you a mischievous smile, turning around and swinging his long legs over the edge of the bench. You fondly smiled as he moved to rest his head on your laps. His knees were bent over the edge of the bench, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Can I?” you asked in a quiet, tender voice as you lightly tugged on his hairband. He merely lifted his head a little as a response, so you could free his long curls, letting the chestnut strands cover your laps.

You took off his glasses too, secured them by your side. He let his eyes close with a relieved sigh as you ran your hands through his hair. You felt his body relax, the tension in his muscles disappear under your soft touch.

“This is so nice,” he hummed.

“It is,” you nodded, softly scratching his scalp, and he let out a long breath in response.

“I know that we had to wait until August to leave for our anniversary, instead of celebrating properly at the right date… but it was worth the wait!”

“We did celebrate on the date, though.”

“Yeah… but this is the actual celebration. Like… the real gift.”

“Hmm… yeah, you’re right. And I agree, it was worth the wait.”

“We outdid ourselves with this trip.”

“Yeah, we did.”

“It feels so nice to be just the two of us. To not have to worry about the usual, daily problems for a while.”

“Yeah… I reckon we both needed this.”

He took one of your hands in his. While you kept on running your fingers through his hair, he brought your other hand to his mouth, pressed it to his lips for a long kiss, intertwining your fingers together. He brought it to rest on his sternum next, stroking your knuckles.

You wanted to tell him, then. That he was the one. That he was the love of your life. That you never wanted him to leave…

But you couldn’t. You didn’t have neither the courage nor the strength. It had been a year, it was too soon. You knew, but he probably didn’t. Why scare him off when you could stay quiet and stare at his handsome features while the day ended and a new night was born out of the sun’s absence? It was safer this way…

“I love you so much, Y/N. You know that, right?” he asked in a whisper, and you noticed by how his voice had quietened that he was beginning to drift off to sleep.

You offered a tender smile he couldn’t see.

“I love you too, Andy. More than anything.”

He gave your hand a squeeze, and a moment later, his lips were parting, and he was asleep, your hand still in his, resting on his chest, and his head on your lap. You kept on looking at him, admired his peaceful expression as he slept, every detail of his face, making sure to commit each of them to memory. You didn’t pay much attention to the dying sunset, despite the colours it shone onto the world. Only when it was getting too dark for you to see Andrew’s features did you notice the passage of time. But then again, he was beautiful like this, and his hair was so soft, and the weight of his head on your lap was reassuring, grounding…

Five more minutes…

[rebeccaotool]

*Sitting in my corner, waiting for The Blues Brothers/Blues Brothers 2000 to get rediscovered*

The series has:

Neurodivergent representation (Dan Akroyd is Autistic IRL, and arguably his character Elwood Blues).

Platforming minority artists, many of whom had fallen out of the limelight during the time of the first film.

Explicit condemnation of Nazis, white supremacy, and cops.

Musical numbers across a variety of generas, often by some of the best artists in the business.

Multiple car chases.

Support for found families.

A little light on female representation, but when there are women they typically kick ass. Including but not limited to Carrie Fisher, Nia Peeples, and Aretha Franklin.

Now, are either of these movies perfect? No. There are a few oofs. Fewer than you'd expect, though. And they're definitely overdue to be rediscovered.

Then we can all chuckle at the conservatives tearing their hair out about the films being 'woke' to boot.

[pvtjxker]

They occupied my school again.

Which wouldn't be bad, if the current political condition doesn't risk us all ending up in hospital beaten by the police.

Sending you updates as soon as something happens

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Chapter 5: You Will Always Have My Heart

Eugene Roe x Violet Elwood

Summary: Eugene didn’t know that love could hurt so much, until he met Violet and then all he could think about was her. As Violet’s condition worsens, Eugene grows to realise just how fragile love is. Warnings: mentions of hospitals, critically ill oc, heart break, grief, death

November 20th 1941

Eugene tapped his foot against the cool, tiled floor of the hospital waiting room, knocking along to Artie Shaw on the radio on the nurses station. Violet was in for a check up with the Cardiologist but she’d been gone a little while now and the longer she was away the more anxious Eugene became.

A few minutes later, Violet pushed open the large double doors and made her way down the corridor to greet him, pulling him in for a hug.

“What happened? What did the doctor say? What’s the…?”

“Eugene calm down,” Violet laughed, pulling back from his arms and cupping his cheek, “Everything’s fine, well as fine as things can be. I’m fine, Gene.” She reassured him, pressing her lips to his. He melted into the kiss, the thoughts rushing through his mind slowed as her lips moved on his own.

“But what…” kiss “did the…” kiss “Vi…” kiss. Eugene gave up trying to speak and instead kissed Violet back firmly, his hand coming to rest on her lower back.

“You talk too much, Gene,” she grinned, smoothing her fingers through his dark locks, playfully pulling at the strands and causing him to sigh at the contact.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Vi,” he mumbled, burying his head into her neck and holding her close.

“I’m afraid that I’ll be the one dying first, Gene,” she smiled sadly, holding him close to her.

The hustle and bustle of the hospital faded around them and nothing else mattered in that moment. All Eugene could concentrate on was the woman in his arms, the woman he loved so dearly.

Violet felt a small tear trailing down her cheek as Eugene held her. She hated lying to him but she knew how upset he’d be if she told him the truth. At least this way they could still enjoy their time together without having the time limit the doctor expected hanging over them. Violet tried to push the doctor's words from her mind as Eugene led her from the hospital and towards the bus stop. She hated being so reliant on other people but as simple daily tasks grew ever harder and even breathing was an effort she knew she didn’t have much choice. As they took their seat on the bus, the exertion of the morning caught up with her and she slipped into a dreamless sleep in Eugene’s arms.

December 8th 1941

Violet was sleeping peacefully in her hospital bed, the early morning light creeping through the blinds, illuminating her pale features. She looked tired, with dark, purple circles painted underneath her bright, blue eyes, her cheeks hollowed and her cheekbones protruding more than they used to. But she was still his beautiful girl, Eugene thought to himself as he pushed her blonde locks from her forehead.

The radio was buzzing dramatically in the corner and Eugene stood to move closer, turning up the volume as the president, Franklin D Roosevelt’s voice filled the room.

‘Yesterday, December 7, 1941 a date which will live in infamy the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.’

Eugene froze beside the radio, listening to the president addressing Congress. The speech continued and he took a seat beside the radio, turning up the volume and listening as the president's words resonated with him.

‘The attack yesterday on the Hawaiian Islands has caused severe damage to American naval and military forces. I regret to tell you that very many American lives have been lost.’

His words flowed out of the radio, sickening everyone in the hospital, no one walked past the door.

‘I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December 7, 1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese Empire’

Eugene took in a sharp breath, the US had declared war on Japan. They were going to war. What would that mean for him? For Violet? Before he could get too lost in his thoughts, Violet stirred under the covers.

“Gene?” She mumbled sleepily and he was by her side in an instant, smoothing his hand over her cheek.

“I’m here, Sweetheart. I’m here. How are you feeling?” He crouched beside her bed, resting his head on their clasped hands.

“My… chest hurts,” she mumbled, her eyes sliding shut before she opened them again. She had a procedure the other day and it had taken its toll on her, she was weaker now. Every day seemed like a struggle and he heard one of the nurses mention it was unlikely that she’d be going home again.

“I know, Sweetheart,” Eugene moved so he could lay on the bed beside her and she snuggled against his chest. He could feel her heart beating slowly beside him, lub dub, lub dub.

“What was on the radio?” Violet asked, glancing up at Gene.

He smiled sadly at her, unsure of how to break the news to her, “You know Pearl Harbour was attacked?”

She nodded slowly. “Well the US has declared war on Japan.”

Violet pushed herself up carefully so she could face him properly, “Does that… does that mean you’ll have to go? Go to war?”

Eugene shook his head, “I don’t know yet, but I promise I’m not leaving you unless I have to. You hear me?”

Violet smiled, reaching up but Eugene craned his neck so she could reach his lips easily, planting a small kiss before laying back down.

Violet soon slipped back into her slumber but Eugene couldn’t rest, his mind drifting to the President’s words. What would that mean for his future?

December 11th 1941

“Good mornin’, Sweetheart,” Eugene greeted her, a bunch of flowers in his hand as he moved around the bed, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips.

“Good mornin’, Gene, she smiled weakly, reaching out her hand to hold his. He squeezed it gently, pulling up a chair to sit beside her bed. “How are you feelin’ today?”

“She shrugged her shoulders, “Same as yesterday, Gene.”

Eugene nodded slowly, she’d been having a bad week, lots of chest pains, lots of episodes of breathlessness. She was now on oxygen full time and had a nurse coming in every half an hour to monitor her vitals.

Eugene knew that things weren’t going to get better than this, they could only get worse. One of the nurses warned him that she may eventually slip into a coma if she became too weak. It broke his heart to see her suffering so much. She barely ate, most of her nutrition was given via liquid food, and she could barely move. Eugene had taken her for a walk around the hospital grounds in a wheelchair the other day and it was nice to see her smile again.

“How’s your family?” Violet asked, raining her head from the pillow to glance at him, her blue eyes shining brighter than ever but the rest of her seemed to be fading faster by the day.

“They’re okay. They said they’ll be poppin’ by later to see you. Wanted to check on you,” Eugene reassured her. He picked up her hairbrush from the bedside cabinet, smoothing it carefully through her blonde locks. She’d always taken such care of her hair, always neatly curled and pinned, but now it lay flat against her head, lifeless.

“Thank you, Gene. For everything.”

“Of course. I love you, of course I’m gonna look after you,” he pressed his lips against her forehead and she sighed sleepily. “Do you want me to go so you can get some rest?”

“No, no please stay,” Violet shuffled cautiously across the bed to make room for Eugene, “Will you hold me for a while.”

Eugene smiled widely at her, “Of course, Sweetheart.” He slid in easily beside her, wrapping his body around her tiny, weak frame.

December 14th 1941

“I’m afraid it’s not good news, Eugene,” Violet's father explained.

The family were sitting in the waiting room, her mother and sister crying quietly in the corner. Her father had tears in his eyes but he was fighting them, trying to remain strong for his family's sake.

“The doctors don’t think she has long. I’m so sorry, son.” Violet’s father placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze before moving back to be with his family.

Eugene was frozen to the spot, the noise of the hospital fading around him into a blur of white noise. The flowers he’d been clutching fell limp to the floor, their petals splaying across the tiles. His mouth was dry, air barely reaching his lungs before it escaped in a sharp breath. He felt his knees buckle, hitting the ground hard, but he didn’t notice the pain. He didn’t feel anything, not anymore.

December 16th 1941

Violet’s breaths were short and shallow, her eyes closed as she rested peacefully against Eugene’s shoulder. Her family all sat around her, their eyes rimmed red and puffy. They had all cried enough over the last few days that Eugene thought he’d never cry again. How could he ever cry over anything else when the worst possible thing had already happened?

“Gene,” Violet mumbled weakly, causing Eugene to jump slightly.

“Yes, Vi.”

“I don’t want to die here, not in this hospital,” she glanced up at him, her hand cupping his cheek. “I want to go back to the lake, it’s our place. I want to go back to the lake, Gene.”

Eugene looked down at her sadly, “We can’t go the lake, Sweetheart. You’re not well enough.”

“Gene, I’m never going to get any better than this. The worst thing that could happen is that I’d die and I’m dying anyway,” she retorted, she understood his anxiousness but at the same time she needed to do this, it was her last chance.

Eugene glanced up at Violet’s family, trying to gauge their reaction. Eugene’s father stood up, giving Eugene a curt nod.

“I’ll bring the car around.”

The drive to the lake was a short one. By the time Eugene had carried Violet out to the car and her mother had carried out her oxygen bottle, her father had brought the car around.

They all bundled in, no one moaning about the tight squeeze or the stuffy air. Violet was sitting on his lap, clinging tightly to the front of his shirt.

“Thank you, Gene, she mumbled, pressing her lips gently to his neck. Eugene had to fight back the tears as he looked down at her, trying to steady his breathing so she didn’t realise he was crying.

When the car pulled up as close to the lake as they could, Violet’s family hurried out of the car, helping carry the oxygen as Eugene carried Violet. They picked a quiet spot, the same spot where Eugene and Violet had their second date.

Violet’s mother lay down a blanket from the back of the car, laying it on the grass so they could sit down. Eugene sat down first so that Violet could sit between his legs, leaning against his chest.

Violet’s mother hovered behind them until her father ushered her away. “Give them some time, Love. She wants to be with Eugene.”

Eugene watched as they walked back to the car, he knew he was hurting but how much pain must they be in losing their eldest daughter?

The sun was hanging low in the sky, just like it had been on their second date. It cast a bright orange glow, like the sky was burning, a lit the flames. The lake itself glowed orange, reflecting the setting sun's rays. It felt as though the whole world was alight.

Eugene grasped Violet’s hands, wrapping them in his own and pulling them close to their chests. He could feel her heartbeat, weak but steady beneath his hands. He could feel her breaths, short and sharp.

“It’s so beautiful,” Violet whispered, her eyes shining brightly in the setting sun and it reminded Eugene of the old Violet before she was sick. The time when they had everything to live for.

“You’re beautiful,” he mumbled into her hair, burying his face and taking a long, deep breath. She didn’t smell like she used to, of roses and lavender. She smelled clinical, like the hospital. It was as if that place had drained the life from her instead of trying to save it. “You’re perfect.”

“But my heart’s not, that’s far from perfect. I’m sorry my heart wasn’t good enough” she mumbled, glancing up at Eugene, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be perfect for you, Eugene.

Eugene but back a sob, “No, no don’t you ever say that. You are perfect, Violet. God, you are so perfect. Your heart was all I could have ever asked for. I love you so much.” He pulled her in tighter so that she was sat in his lap, her head resting against the crook of his neck.

“I wish we could have had longer,” Violet cried, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed, her breath becoming short, small gasps escaping her. Eugene placed the oxygen mask over her mouth, rubbing her back comfortingly as she coughed.

“It’s okay, Vi. It’s alright. We had the time that God decided for us and it was the best time of my life. I love you so much, don’t ever forget that.”

Violet nodded slowly, unable to speak as she breathed as best she could through the oxygen mask. He placed his lips on her forehead, kissing her lightly as he closed his eyes and began to hum quietly. Violet's breathing became slower, shallower as he hummed and she relaxed into him.

Eugene smoothed his hand over her hair, watching as her blue eyes slid closed, small breaths leaving her lips. “It’s okay, Violet. It’s okay to let go, I’ve got you now.” He whispered into her ear, rocking her slowly, “I love you.”

Violet’s body relaxed in his arms, her breathing slowed until it became inaudible, and her heartbeat slowed beneath his hand.

“Thank you, Gene. Thank you for loving me,” she whispered, taking one last deep breath before she fell silent, slipping away from the world. Eugene watched as her body relaxed, her ragged breathing stilled and her heartbeat stopped under his hand. She looked so peaceful, her face no longer lined with worry, but her flesh smooth over her gaunt features. She was finally at peace.

Eugene’s tears flowed freely now, he didn’t want her to see him crying, didn’t want her last memory to be of him in a state, but now he could. He didn’t hold anything back, clutching her lifeless body as if she could anchor him to this world as he fell apart.

“Goodbye Violet,” he sobbed, “I love you.”

December 20th 1941

Eugene bundled some belongings into his kit bag, mainly a few spare pairs of clothes, some smart shoes, and a book for the train journey. His parents were going to drop him off at the station to start his journey to basic training. He’d never managed to tell Violet he’d enlisted on December 12th, it seemed so far away at the time.

His parents were waiting outside as he collected up his last few things, shoving the photo of his family into his book so it wouldn’t become damaged.

The scrapbook Violet gave him for his birthday sat on his bedside table, pride of place. He’d looked through the photos every night since she passed, reading over her words of encouragement. She knew him so well. Each phrase or paragraph made him smile, they got him through each day without her.

As he turned over the final page of the book he noticed a white piece of paper sticking out the edge of the book. He pulled it free, unfolding the paper and revealing a letter written in Violet’s hand. Eugene felt the scrapbook fall from his hands and onto his bed. His eyes trained on the letter.

To My Dearest Eugene,

By the time you read this letter, I will be gone. I wish we could have had more time together, but then all of the time in the world would still not have been enough.

To be loved by you was the greatest treasure of my life. You are a special man Eugene Roe. You filled my life with light and I don’t want you to hide that light from the world. I want you to show the world how wonderful you are Eugene and you have to promise me that you will love again. I know that there is someone else out there for you and I want you to find her. She will be so lucky to have you Gene.

Thank you for everything Eugene, thank you for making me feel special and for loving me despite knowing our ending. I wish you all the luck in the world, my love. I love you with all my heart.

Yours always

Violet

Eugene didn’t find the usual tears slipping down his face but instead, a wide smile spread across his lips. He folded the letter, placing it alongside the picture of himself and Violet, before doing up his kit bag and sliming it over his shoulder. He gave one last glance at his childhood bedroom, unsure of when he would next see it. He walked down the familiar stairs and along the corridor. He looked back at the house he had occupied for the last 20 years, filled with so many memories.

“Thank you, Violet.” He closed the door, following his way down the familiar path and towards the car. He’d soon be in another State on a very different path than he’d imagined but at least he knew that no matter what Violet would be watching over him.

Tags: @blueberry-ovaries @mads-weasley @coco-bean-1218 @she-wolf09231982 @georgieluz @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @hesbuckcompton-baby @allthingsimagines @bucky32557038ww2 @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt @xxluckystrike @hogwartslegacypics @softguarnere

[shrewfern]

☆! hl oc / mc

Amelia Amy Elwood

name: amelia “amy” minette elwood gender: female ethnicity: french voice: think ado (the singer) when she talks but with a french accent school: beauxbatons (former), hogwarts (current) patronus/animagus: tawny cat pet: ancient ahh tawny cat named tali (amy’s had her since she was a little girl and she will DIE for this cat no cap) likes: stars, drugs,a defense against the dark arts class, animals

background: long descendant of isidora morganarch, amy was born and raised in france the majority of her life. when she was young, her parents passed away from a mysterious illness (the common cold) bc it’s the 1800s and medicine sucked ass, and so, she was punted into the foster system. she was insanely adhd, waaayyyy before adhd was even diagnosable, so everyone was kinda on her ass all the time about everything and she never really understood why. with years of weaving in and out of numerous families and constantly being thrown into the corner with a dunce hat, she came to the conclusion that it was all because of who she was, deeming herself as a bad person to put it lightly, and learned to cope with her feelings with drugs. during her fifth year, she was expelled from beauxbatons for beating up orphans i mean her fellow students and drug abuse, and was soon transferred over to hogwarts… character arc: at the beginning of the story, amy is (low-key high-key) a BITCH but as she beats up goblins and makes friends and stuff she slowly becomes a tad more sympathetic and learns to not be so reliant on drugs n stuff. all this doesn’t happen tho until her cat dies and she has a whole macbeth “out, out brief candle”  arc whomp whomp

wood: ash length: 12 inches core: dragon heartstring

other: the wand handle is an heirloom from her mother’s side

[lola-babylon]

Ryan didn't quit social media because of the "Panic stalker"

There's a weird narrative in certain sections of fandom that after going through the horrible experience of being cat fished through text message by a stalker impersonating Brendon in 2013, Ryan Ross retreated like a wounded bird from all social media, never to be seen online again.

If you've found this post through the Ryan Ross tags, we'll assume you're familiar with the story of the Panic! stalker; if not, the best write up is this one from Reddit, I don't want to give them anymore publicity.

Being cat fished is horrible experience; to have it happen publicly in the guise of someone who was once a close friend must have been a ghastly experience. But however Ryan dealt with it, it wasn't by suddenly abandoning all public life, or at least online public life, in 2013. He kept posting casual shots on insta for years. All of these are photos Ryan chose to share publicly on his official instagram account, thisistherealryanross, so posting these may be a breach of IP rights but not a breach of privacy. You can see the dates they were posted on the lower right corner of the images, or go to his instagram account and check for yourself.

2014

2015

2016

2017

2018

2019

And I just wanted to add a link to this video of Dottie, because she's just so darn cute. (There's a tonne of cute Dottie posts, but the lady has her own Tumblr so I'll leave it at that).

Ryan does seem to have stopped posting any personal or social pics in 2020, but that was such a batshit crazy year who knows what any of us were doing? If he decided to step back from social media, if that was a decision that worked for him then and still does now, cool. (Sure we'd like to see a few more pics of Dottie and Elwood, but if not, we're not owed).

Painting Ryan Ross as a tragic recluse haunted from public life and social media after a catfishing incident is demeaning to Ryan for the same reason as the misleading narrative that his legacy was stolen by Brendon Urie, leaving Ryan broke and broken; telling it like that robs the man of his agency, and I'm sure if he knew he'd be exasperated at being turned into the Syd Barrett of emo.

[ask-the-doppelganger]

{hlep I think I wrote myself into a corner and it's complicated.}

{we have multiple interlocking story threads, right. The problem ones are the town terror storyline, the lemon tree merchant, and the captive pigeon storyline. I think the best way to structure this is in a list.}

The Doppelganger is currently a pigeon. It needs to eat a lot to be able to shapeshift back into a human shape.

The Lemon Tree Merchant (joke character made by I think @/eggsforbrunch, I will tag the account afterwards) offered to sell it a lemon tree that grows clones for two strands of human hair. The clones are edible, that would solve the shapeshifting problem.

The Town Terror Storyline ties in: the victims asked for help from the Doppelganger, who agreed to help for the two strands of hair the Lemon Tree Merchant wanted for a tree.

This would lead to the Doppel being able to assume a human form again, logically, right?

Except there is ANOTHER storyline I want to make canon. I dubbed it "captive pigeon", in which @steven-rudboys and a doorman (I am pretty sure it's @/cheryl-elwood) catch the pigeon, realize it's a doppel, abd cage it, to ask it a few questions.

So I think I want to destroy that tree, but. I'm not sure how yet.

{anyway if you guys have any idea on how to detangle this mess, do tell me please.}

[cavecrawling]

BASICS:

| ⠀legal name: abigail elwood.

⠀⠀⠀nicknames: abi, little creature (duke), thing (the four lords)

| ⠀main faceclaim: laura (the evil within)

| ⠀orientation: unlabelled

⠀⠀⠀identity: afab she/her - often referred to as an 'it'

| ⠀shipping: closed.

| ⠀ethnicity: romanian.

⠀⠀⠀languages: english (fluent), romanian (fluent)

| ⠀age: physically nineteen

⠀⠀⠀born: 1928 - technically making her ninety three.

| ⠀height: 5'4

| ⠀backstory: (basic)

she stumbled on the village after going on a trip with her mother, father and her siblings. being a while in the past, brith control wasn't really a thing, and two parents watching over 8 children (including abigail) was difficult. she was older, so not watched as closet, and therefore mistakenly left behind in the winter months and forced to survive by herself.

she stumbled across the village after a week of finding shelter in caves and thick bushes, eating the few berries she could find, and any small animals she could catch. a villager found her curled up in one of the cabins on the village outskirts used to store wood for fires, and took her in to miranda.

it was inevitable miranda would view her as a potential vessel for her daughter, as abigail was young, pretty and healthy. she also knew, given her lack of a role in the village, she would not be missed should she disappear.

abigail, fooled by miranda's apparent caring nature, was quick to agree to the 'few tests' she had insisted upon to ensure she was fit and healthy to live amongst the other villagers.

her reaction to the cadou was unfavourable, immediately resulting in an agonising mutation. it resulted in her growing in size, four extra limbs - with claws growing from each finger - protruding from her back. her mouth became filled with razor sharp teeth, so long and pointed she was unable to close her mouth, lest she puncture her own skin. catching sight of herself in a mirror miranda had propped up, the girl - now creature - fled in a hurry until she found the entrance to a cave, which led her to a vast system spanning out beneath the village.

miranda would often take trips down there to monitor the progress, sometimes finding abigail curled up in a corner in her red dress, knees tucked to her chest and her face pressed into them. and sometimes, most often, she would find the girl in her mutated form. her mutations, while uncontrollable, were also unpredictable - sometimes staying mutated for years on end, only to be her normal self for mere days before it takes hold of her once again.

the first time miranda looked at her while mutated, abigail flew into a blind rage, doing her best to attack miranda - with little to no success.

disappointed, yet not surprised, miranda deemed her a failure and left her in the cave systems below the village.

abigail never ventures out while mutated, however occasionally she will leave during the short times she's back to her normal self. she has a small friendship with the duke, who takes pity on her and her situation and will sometimes give her bread or meat that was bordering expired.