#except james never experienced the emotion 'glee'

[iamthemoonagedaydream]

I think I'd genuinely enjoy crimson rivers so much more (so far) if james died in the games. Only james.

I don't know if it's just because I'm on a high from Lord of the flies and love the thought that went into every tiny detail, but I think a fic finally about how real the circumstances are for the characters would be a literary masterpiece. Making it seem more real and less happy ending fairytale would just add to it.

James learning to protect Reg while experiencing all these emotions he never even knew he could feel WHILE trying to do his best to change the publics view on the games, for the greater good. He'd learn all the information he could while training to protect Regulus, and only ever himself to just keep Reg alive. Losing his life to a game that is to punish those who are long gone and is in no way fair. A game that was orchestrated to oppress thousands, that others view with glee.

I think what would make it worse, though, is that the scene where James threatens with the venom would play out the same except for when James drinks the venom.

He'd drink it because noone would believe him not to, because noone believed their story on James' part was ENTIRELY genuine. They thought he loved Reg, but didn't believe he'd go to the extremes such as that. What makes it worse is that they thought he was acting for all the wrong reasons. He was acting to cover up his hurt for being put in such a disgusting place. They just thought he was acting because he didn't love Regulus enough.

And of course they need a winner, don't they?

The fuckers would pull Regulus up from the river.

Throughout the fic, we'd get the pov changes like we did in crimson rivers, and then the final blow.

It ends with James' pov just before he takes the potion and the pain he feels as he does, then Regulus'.

Oh, God. Regulus' pov.

It'd describe him panting for air once he emerged from the water, and then a short passing description of the river. The hands. The blood. The blood.

Then he's angry. Why is he on land? What's happening. He was going to die for James. Where is James?

Where is James.

Where is he.

Good question Regulus, where is James.

Amd it ends with Regulus realising he's going to have to live without James. And he's never loved James more.

He's screaming, shouting and bawling as he sees his body being carried away in one of those helicopter things when he realises that he did that for nothing. Because James is now dead.

For Regulus.

[nellygwyn]

That video I just reblogged of the toddler running around with the knife is basically Charles II and his brother's Catholicism.

- Charles: Let me see what you have there, James!

- James: *running around gleefully clutching a rosary and a Latin copy of the Bible* A RETURN TO THE CHURCH OF ROME

- Charles: NO!!!!!!!

[ajokeformur-ray]

UNREQUESTED: Imagine James March comforting you (in his own way) after you’ve had a nightmare.

TW; waking up from a nightmare and experiencing another fear (darkness)

Also includes: James doing his best to help, fluff and? maybe? slight elements of an unhealthy relationship. I’m not too sure so I’m tagging it just in case.

Want to be added to the AHS or James taglist? Let me know somehow!

Shoutout as always to @ravenrainy for helping with aspects of James’ character! <3 if you have some time, go look at @darkdevasofdestruction, which is her side writing blog; she’s so stunning and deserves more attention! She writes for Game of Thrones, Assassin’s Creed, American Horror Story and others, so go check her out and give her some love! <333333

This took me three weeks to write, so enjoy!

word count: 1,106 words.

You jolted awake with a loud gasp, your heart pounding in your head and your body alight with fear and panic. The room was so dark that you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face, and being presented with your fear of the dark while the lingering fear from your nightmare was still there, only worsened the situation for you. You made a pitiful whine, too scared to remember that the lamp was right beside you if you just stretched your arm out into the unknown; though in the daylight the room was so familiar to you.

Tears came to your eyes as a physical manifestation of your terror. You couldn’t feel James beside you; your greatest and most beloved comfort, and that only made you cry harder. Even your worst fears were abated by thoughts of James, but alas; tonight you were already too far gone. You could only sit in the dark that you feared and hated, while a part of you told you what needed to be done; annoyed by your own self.

It was a desperate situation that spiralled instead of getting better the longer you sat there. The door cracked open and your heart leapt into your throat as the expensive wooden door creaked open, welcoming light into the room. 

Now, you could see.

There was nothing in the room to fear.

You were safe.

As you looked around the room, your eyes landed on a painfully familiar figure in the doorway and all at once, you were no longer afraid. Your fears seemed silly as light flooded the room. 

You felt safe. Protected. Loved.

“James!” His name fell from your lips like a prayer as tears continued to fall from your eyes.

James smirked from where he remained in the doorway, his dark brown eyes drinking in the sight of your terrified curled up form in his bed. He could smell your fear, your relief and your love from where he was, and he tilted his head back as he inhaled deeply, his smirk widening.

“Darling. You seem distressed.” His words were caring, as though he had considered his words to carry real weight before he had released them out into the world, but your trained ear picked up on the mocking tone. He was amused by your fear and had yet to approach you out of a curiosity to see what you would do next. Sometimes, you were just an experiment to him, and it showed. You knew, oh, you knew, but as ever, you found yourself unable to mind terribly if it kept him by your side. What damage could a little curiosity do?

With James in the room, your hand seemed to act all on its own as it left the warm safety of your duvet and stretched toward him.

“James - “

James eyed your hand with obvious glee and he took a few slow, steady steps towards you. He stopped just shy of the foot of your bed and tilted his head, his deeply hypnotic eyes watching you as he extended his own hand towards you. An invitation: come to me. A part of him was enjoying the sight of you suffering, and a part of you enjoyed the fact that James was savouring it. You would always put his happiness over your own, no matter what the expense was.

The ghost of your fear and terror upon awakening still had a firm grip of your soul and you somehow, somewhere, found the courage to scramble over to the foot of the bed to take James’ outstretched hand. His fingers wound themselves tightly around yours and he came around the side of the bed to pull you into a standing position and then into a hug, shielding your face from the smirk that he couldn’t hide anymore. 

“Do you wish to tell me of your night terror, dearest?” The arm around your shoulders snaked into your hair as he began to rock the two of you on the spot gently, as if he wished to shake away the nightmare’s grasp on you. 

You shook your head, unsure, but James was patient, as he always was, and soon the words came to you, flowing like water out of a tap. Through several shuddering breaths and some tears, you were able to relay it all to your ghost lover, who drank it in, reveled in it, and wished to preserve your fear in this moment. Oh, but you were beautiful in your fear, in your pain and suffering. James was sure that he had never loved you more than he had in this moment.

When at last you fell silent, James stepped away from you and towards the drinks cabinet. He poured himself a scotch and he poured you a glass of wine, for the nerves. He was a firm believer in the way that alcohol could loosen tongues and ease emotions for a short time, and for you, he believed it prudent to calm you for long enough that you would fall asleep easily, with or without him.

“Sometimes my dreams are so real, James. I can’t tell if I’m sleeping and then, when I wake, there’s always that scary moment where I still don’t know. When I finally realise, it’s like a rush of relief.”

“There’s a new saying; ‘if you’re unsure, simply ask’. Come now, dearest, drink up, and then off to bed with you. The night is still young and there’s much to do tomorrow.”

“Stay with me? Please?”

You were waiting for James to say no. You were waiting for him to simply disappear from the room as if he had never been there in the first place. You were waiting for him to laugh, or for him to simply not care. 

You were unprepared for the way that James motioned for you to down your wine in a few swallows - something he knew could make you tipsy so quickly that nothing could sober you up except time - and for the way that he then swept you into his arms, the movement so fluid it was almost as though it was choreographed, and for him to get into bed beside you, toeing his shoes off and loosening his necktie.

“You need only ask, dearest.” James pressed a tender kiss to your forehead and then pulled you against his chest, one of his strong legs pushing between yours as a way of anchoring you to him. His fingers dove into your hair once more, and when next you awoke, you were alone, the smell of James on your pillows.

Ahs: Evans’ characters: @for-ev-ermore

AHS All: @hyoomintypo