#i barely remember too i had to dig through my account to find my posts

[raredrop]

i checked out the other tcg game that replaced the old tcg online...migrated my account but i dont think anything made it :(

rip all my cards

[rhysismydaddy]

Prisoner's Game Pt. 1 (Rowaelin)

Synopsis: Aelin Galathynius never thought of herself as a vengeful woman. Until her boyfriend not only testifies, but leads a case against her that lands her in prison for the rest of her life. Post I-Love-You's. He didn't believe her, and she's about to show him that not only is she innocent, he made the worst mistake of his life betting against her. To a woman with nothing but time, life's just a game, after all.

The cinderblock wall dug into her back uncomfortably as she reclined against it, the air in the room was stale, and she hadn't showered in two days. By any measurement, Aelin Galathynius was far from her best.

And yet she somehow managed to look perfectly at ease--happy even--as she lounged in her cell, toying with the ends of her too-long hair.

It was a ruse, of course, just a little trick to piss off the man currently stomping into her space. By the flare of Rowan Whitehorn's eyes, it worked.

"Hello, Rowan," she greeted pleasantly, giving him a little smile and acting like it wasn't taking everything in her not to use the makeshift knife under her pillow to gut him like the spineless coward he was.

She could tell, even across her 8x12 cell, that he was gritting his teeth and fighting a similar action.

The heel of his expensive Italian loafers clicked as he walked across the space to the small table and took a seat at the steel chair in front of it. He tried to push it out further, but stopped when he realized it was bolted to the floor.

"Aelin," he said back, none of the so-obvious anger he was feeling present in his voice. "Been a long time."

Eight years, six months, three weeks, two days, and thirteen hours.

Not that she was counting or anything.

She nodded her agreement, reclining further on the bed and crossing her legs as if she was in the finest dress she owned, not a faded orange jumpsuit.

"What brings you to my side of town, Rowan? Here to finally switch sides and represent me?"

Dressed in a two-thousand dollar suit and tie, hair perfectly gelled back, he looked like he was successful a lawyer meeting with a wealthy client, but they both knew the last thing he'd ever do was work for her.

"You know why I'm here."

She did indeed, but she still said, "I must be exceptionally smart to know why you've come all the way here-"

"Cut the shit," he snapped, finally losing a bit of his cool. He regained it quickly, though, and continued, "I want to know how you did it."

She frowned at her split ends. "Did what?"

Rowan waited until she looked at him to respond. "You know what."

Sighing so deeply it should've rattled the walls, she said, "I can't believe I've spent the last eight years thinking you underestimated my intelligence. You clearly think I'm some sort of oracle genius."

Rowan mimicked her sigh, and she bit her lip to stifle a laugh.

Probably trying to stall, he spent a moment looking at her cell, at the completely bare walls and lack of photographs. All she had was the tally marks drawn in pencil on one wall and a dusty chess set sitting on the table.

When he'd taken inventory of those two things, he sat and just looked at her.

It was clear she wouldn't admit to knowing exactly why he sat in front of her, and he was simply putting off being the one to fold.

Predictable, proud little man.

Eventually, he took his loss and said, "I want to know how you managed to rob me from inside the most secure prison in Rifthold."

She smiled, a full, undulated smile she hadn't used in a long time.

She'd been planning this moment since the day the bars had locked behind her, and it felt damn good to finally see it come to fruition.

According to what she'd heard, definitely not what she knew from personal experience, the private vault in Rowan's apartment had been broken into. Apparently, only one thing was missing: an antique dagger that had been handed down in the family and was now worth over a million bucks.

"Why do you think it was me?" she asked, still smiling.

He gritted his teeth some more, and she internally snickered at the idea he'd have permanent tooth damage because of her. Something else to remember her by.

Green eyes spitting flames at her, he growled, "You left a goddamn business card."

Aelin forced her eyes up to the empty bed above her head, trying her hardest not to laugh. "Maybe I'm being framed?"

"Your fingerprints were on it."

She did laugh then, then laughed some more when his eyes narrowed. He looked like he was about to strangle her. "Rowan, in case you haven't noticed, I'm incarcerated."

She gestured around them to her cell to prove her point.

The bastard just smiled.

Of course he knows that, she thought bitterly, forcing her hand back to her lap and away from where it'd started to creep toward the pillow.

"So how would I rob you?" she asked, getting her mind back on track.

"That's what you're going to tell me," he demanded angrily. "I want to know how you got out of here, got all the way across Rifthold, broke into my apartment, and stole from me without any surveillance camera picking it up."

Aelin ran a hand through her hair, fluffing it just right. When she caught sight of the impatience on his face, she fluffed it some more and readjusted the thin jacket on her shoulders.

It was always too damn cold in this place. She hadn't been warm in almost nine years.

Because of him.

Just for that, she fluffed her hair some more.

Then she said simply, "I didn't."

"Stop lying!" he shouted at her, eyes flashing.

She wasn't, but that was besides the point.

"Fine." She rolled her eyes like he'd won. "I got my cousin to-"

"Aedion spent the night in Wendlyn. His travel is verified, and there are at least a hundred eye witnesses that witnessed him singing karaoke all night. Stop. Fucking. Lying."

Once again, she wasn't lying.

Aedion sure as hell hadn't been in Wendlyn last night. She'd just wanted to make sure his alibi was air-tight as planned.

Sighing again, she asked, "Rowan, even if I did do it, why the hell would I tell you about it?"

His jaw worked for a moment, and she could tell whatever he was about to say was difficult for him. "I'll get time off your sentence if you tell me what you've done with it."

She tried not to laugh, but she couldn't help it.

It burst out of her, full and uncontrollable, and she flopped over on the dirty mattress and howled for a good few minutes.

He glared at her, looking for all the world like he was experiencing a portion of the rage she was made of, but regardless of the threat in his eyes, she took her time composing herself.

"I'm serving ten consecutive life sentences, you idiot."

One for each and every one of her "victims."

"I'll make it nine," he offered generously.

"Even if I was a cat, that'd still leave me dying in a prison cell. Offer me something else."

He just glared at her, unwilling to give her anything she could actually use or want. Just like she'd expected.

"That's what I thought. So no, Rowan Whitehorn, I'm not accepting your little deal. You can think I robbed you all you want; hell, you can even know, in your famous gut, that I did it." She tilted her head, a cruel smile filling her lips. "But it isn't about what you believe, it's about what you can prove. Isn't that right?"

His eyes shuttered at the words, and just like that, they were sucked into the memory of all those years ago.

~Eight years ago~

~Rowan~

Rowan rolled over, edging away from the woman next to him carefully as to not wake her.

Her hair was spread out on his chest, her soft hand was on his stomach, and her leg was draped over his. By all accounts, she was all over him.

And it felt so fucking good.

He'd never met anyone like Aelin before. Anyone so full of life, so hilariously open.

It was like she was constantly on fire, flitting from one place to the next with endless energy and jabs about him being too old and slow.

"What are you going?" she murmured, nails digging in slightly to keep him where he was.

"To get some water. Go back to sleep."

He leaned down and kissed her brow, and she sighed happily and rolled over. Like a total cliché, he watched her sleep for a moment, trying to get his feelings under control.

They'd been seeing each other for less than a year, but he couldn't imagine his life without her. He was in love with her, and if the way she acted and smiled around him was any indication, she loved him, too.

He ran a thumb over her cheekbone, smiling when she tilted her face into his touch.

He was whipped, and he didn't even care.

Rowan shook his head at himself, pulled on a pair of boxers, padded to the kitchen, and held a glass under the faucet.

Then frowned as it sputtered.

He figured he'd at least make himself useful, knowing damn well she would never agree to call the plumber when she could "figure out how to fix it herself on Youtube."

So he knelt down in her kitchen and opened the cabinet door, trying to see what the problem with the pipe was.

Except he never got that far.

His eyes got stuck on the piece of paper sticking out under a false piece of wood covering the back panel.

Knowing it was wrong to pry but somehow unable to stop himself, he tugged the paper loose.

Then fell backwards to his ass, heart hammering and brain spinning as he read it over and over again.

The list of names wasn't long, but all ten of the people on it were highly distinguished members of society.

And they were all dead.

He wouldn't know that, since the death of the last person on the list wasn't even public record yet, but he was the attorney working with the police to find the killer.

Why did she have this list?

And what did the numbers next to the names mean?

One way or another, he knew he had to find out. He also knew he couldn't ask her. He was in too deep, too unbiased to know whether or not she was lying.

He didn't trust himself with her, so he'd have to go the traditional route.

He took a picture of the paper quickly, tucking it back where he'd found it. He snuck back in the room to get dressed, leaving her a note he had to go to work.

He thought he was going to be sick as he left her apartment, a feeling suspiciously similar to dread coiling in his stomach.

There was only one way she could know that last name, only one explanation that made sense.

But he had to know for sure. Had to know if he'd been an idiot this past year; an idiot who'd spent almost every night sleeping next to the killer he'd been searching for.

So he started investigating his girlfriend.

Six days later, he found the security deposit boxes and the murder weapons inside, still covered in dried blood that would be matched to the victims. All with Aelin's prints on them.

Two days after that, the woman he'd thought was the love of his life was arrested on ten counts of murder.

Despite the tears she shed, despite the promises she made to him, despite the love she claimed to have for him, Rowan told the cops everything.

Even though he couldn't imagine her killing anyone.

"It doesn't matter what I believe, it matters what I can prove."

That was the last thing he'd said to her, right as she was being dragged out of the court room and yelling at him to believe her.

The truth of the matter was that when it came down to it, he didn't trust her enough. The facts were against her, everyone on the jury had been against her, and in the end, Rowan was too.

~Present~

~Aelin~

Rowan shook his head, almost like he needed to clear it from the memory they'd obviously both been immersed in, and she smiled.

She hoped what happened all those years ago still haunted him, hoped he went to sleep at night thinking about her and the betrayal he'd served to her on a silver platter.

The first year of her sentence, she was so lost in emotion--in the rage and confusion and deep, deep hurt--that she couldn't bring herself to do anything.

He hadn't even bothered to ask her first. That's what had hurt the worst.

He'd seen that stupid, stupid list and had jumped to the first conclusion possible.

She knew it had looked bad, had looked like she was guilty, but she'd thought that if the worst happened, he'd at least ask her to explain before slapping the cuffs on her.

But he hadn't. She'd gone to prison, and his career had exploded into stardom from the success of the case.

"See, Rowan, when you refused to accept any other explanation other than the easy one, you made a mistake. Because I didn't kill those people."

He rolled his eyes. "Aelin-"

"And I'm not only going to prove it," she continued as if he hadn't spoken, "I'm going to ruin your precious little life while I do it. Just like you did mine."

She stood, put a hand on the steel table, and leaned over him.

"If you want it to stop, all you have to do is drop these bullshit murder charges and issue a public apology for locking me up in the first place."

He stood too, so close his loafers brushed the toe of her dusty, prison issued sneakers.

"That's never going to happen," he promised, voice uncompromising and angry.

Aelin smiled, having predicted his reaction down to the facial expression.

His pride, she'd decided, would be the first thing to go.

She reached around him to slide the pawn on the chess board forward, leaned in even further, and whispered, "Let the game begin, then."

~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2

@perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @gracie-rosee @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

[evil-robot-cat]

People ask what parts I used to make my Sidon custom, and I thought, instead of spitting out a bunch of random numbers, I’ll make a graphic that shows pictures of the Nendoroids I sourced parts from.  Since Tumblr is more text-friendly than Instagram, there’s more info under this handy cut:

HEAD: I chose this one because when you pull out the pigtails, it’s very close to a bald, bare head.  It became problematic when the skull parts didn’t fully close around the face I had chosen.  It’s a rare but possible thing with Nendoroids.  So 100%, you don’t have to find this head specifically, just any head that’s on the simple side - because you’re gonna have to build the fins and tail from scratch!

FACE: Since Sidon doesn’t have a nose (unless...  the ridge...?), it’s good to get a faceplate that also has no nose. A cheap way to get one is to look for an ugly/unpopular Nendoroid More novelty face and repaint it.

TORSO:  “But Robot Cat, there is no torso pic.”  No.  I.  Um.  Don’t actually remember what torso is in there.  It’s a random generic torso from some body or other.  Like the head, all that mattered was having a bare, simple body that I could build Sidon’s shape onto.

ARMS: I wanted arms that had bracelets or cuffs, with holes for separate hands.  There are several like that, this is just the one I found first. As for why...

HANDS: Most Nendoroid hands cut off at the wrist, but some are longer. That extra length can be covered with putty to match up with the arms’ bands.  It’s not easy to do, but it gives Sidon’s arms some extra length. I wasn’t in the HP fandom, so I didn’t know about the terf shit until some time after buying the doll.  I certainly wouldn’t have bought this particular Nendoroid if I had known!  Little Witch Academia is a good substitute. Those are numbers 747, 835, and 859.  It’s what I would use if I were to make this project again.

LEGS: I like these. They’re puffy, so they match his chonky thighs, and they’re jointed, so they can pose.  Only thing is, they’re black, and painting them white was a pain in the ass.  I live in fear of the paint scuffing or chipping.  But it’s worth it for that zora leg look.

WORK: I covered the highlights in another post.  The nitty gritty is easier to see by digging through my Instagram hobby account.  The older this post gets, the further back you’ll have to dig, and I’m sorry for that.  But you’ll see my other adventures and experiments, too!

SAFETY: The most important thing to remember is to use proper PPE.  This is a hobby for adults, and it involves the use of dangerous and toxic chemicals.  When I sculpt, I wear safety goggles and nitrile gloves to protect my eyes and skin.  When I sand/paint/seal, I do it outside and I wear a fitted respirator with P100 filters.  The filters are not permanent - once you can smell things through them, it’s time to change them out. 

Don’t fuck with your lungs.  Don’t do it.  Not for a toy.  Not for anything.

REMINDER: This is not the only/best/correct way to make a custom.  It’s just an in-depth look at what one person did.  You can look at it for inspiration or go “Nah, I’ll do it better than this.”  Customizing is about self expression, so you should be proud of your creations!

EXTRA: The B-word will inevitably come up.  If you’re dabbling your feet in the hobby for the very first time, it’s okay to buy a bootleg to practice on.  But bootlegs are made in unsafe places and conditions, so if you decide to get into customizing for the long haul, then it’s time to avoid the fake stuff.  You can get authentic Nendoroid parts for very low prices at Chibi Chop Shop. They’re legit and reliable. They get their parts directly from licensed GSC distributors and fellow collectors.  I’ve been ordering from them for years and I love them!  I don’t get any kind of discount for saying this stuff, so you know it’s real.

[thefloofartist]

Lilith Fairen’s lying continues...

This sort of “discourse“ is why I stopped engaging with the vast majority of RWBY community since 2020. I really hate repeating myself, but I’m basically only here on this Tumblr posting right now because of these lies that keep getting perpetuated without anyone bothering to shut it down out of fear of retaliation by Lilith Fairen or Canonseeker harassing them.

If you have a question about me, or want clarification on something that someone has said about me, just ask me directly and I’ll try to answer it for you. Otherwise I’m pretty much working and drawing 24/7.

I will go through each lie one section at a time and address them individually. I will also refer to Fairen as “You” here, since this post is for her to see and my language is directed towards her.

“TheFloofArtist is a guy who got so pissed over Adam’s death” -

I never liked Adam. I never got mad over his death. You want to hear my thoughts on Adam, which is one of the few things that hasn’t changed about me over the years?

I’ve often referred to Adam as a Reddit incel with ugly hair dye with stupid writing that makes him comically unlikable. Adam is just outright awful both in personality and writing. I DO NOT LIKE ADAM. I HATE HIM. But let’s have a hypothetical here. Suppose I did like Adam. (I don’t.) You’re implying that anyone who likes Adam (I don’t.) means that they’re just as bad as he is. Adam is a fictional character from a show. Someone liking a character who does atrocious things doesn’t mean that they too believe in committing those same atrocious things, or share the same values as that character. You must separate these two things, not conflate them.

“that he made a terrible photoshop of Blake stabbing Yang instead”

I never made that photoshop image. I stole it from Facebook and reposted it to my old Twitter 3+ years ago. You can’t even get the details of your lie right, as Yang and Blake are stabbing each other. It wasn’t a one-way stabbing. Not that it matters because I didn’t make the image you’re accusing me of. I was just unfortunate and stupid enough to post it to my Twitter account back then because I thought it was a funny edit and my sense of humor at that point in time was maximum edge, minimum substance. I wouldn’t find it funny at all now, it’s just a stupid edit.

“and spammed it at Blake and Yang’s VAs and Bumblebee fans.”

I never “spammed” that image to anyone. I made one post with it (on my own account, mind you!) that got a ton of circulation due to quote retweets from other users who were upset with the image. That’s not “spam”, that’s a lie you invented to make me sound worse. I also never spam images to anyone, because on Twitter, doing so clogs up the “Media” tab with each individual copy of the image, and I use my Media tab as a way to navigate and find old artwork I’ve posted. If I truly spammed images, anything I posted prior to that would get buried and I’d never be able to find it again. If anyone is going around and spamming this image in 2022 (the post in qustion being from 2019, you really had to dig for that one), it’s both you and Canonseeker.

Onto the next lie.

“Floof has an obsessive vendetta against Barbara Dunkleman”

I’ll be honest. I don’t care that Barbara said, “It’s a cartooooon!” at me. Yes, haha, funny meme, but your wording here implies I’m actively trying to get back at Barbara over what she said. I don’t. I really, truly, do not care that Barbara said that. Your wording makes it sound like I spend my waking hours plotting to retaliate for some grave injustice done to me, when the truth is I barely remember Barbara even exists. When I woke up today and saw your Tumblr post, that was the first time in almost a year that I had to bother remembering who she was. Fairen, you don’t know me, so don’t speak for me on how I feel about anything.

“because she mocked an obvious bait question”

No, it wasn’t a bait question, but it was one I was very careful about when coming up with it. I asked about a plot hole (How did Jaune obtain Pyrrha’s weapons after the Fall of Beacon?) and the idea was to see if the writers thought about it. If I got the same answer from both of them, it means they did think about it. If I got two different answers, it means they didn’t even consider the idea. I got the latter. And I even got a proper answer from Kerry that would address that plot hole perfectly fine. (When Qrow went up the tower to get Ruby, he also got Pyrrha’s gear then.) That’s all there was to it. You weren’t there, you don’t get to interpret things for other people.

“he asked at a convention.”

You mean RTX 2017. It’s not just “a convention”, aren’t you a big RT fan? Do you not know what RTX is? Come on, if you’re going to lie, do a better job and at least have some of details right.

Onto the last set of lies.

“All of that made him a bit of a celebrity among ‘hatedom’ communities”

No, I was barely a presence in them even then but especially now with lack of making any kind of content. The numbers don’t lie either - I’ve been perpetually stuck at 2000 subscribers for years now. I also don’t like being referred to as a “celebrity” when I know I am a nobody you use as an easy punching bag for validation from others. I’ve said it before too, I know my place in the RWBY fandom. I’m not a big name, I’m just someone who has some video-editing software and can draw. That’s it.

“who embrace rational individuals like him and the kind of rational things he says about people who make and enjoy a cartoon he doesn’t like.”

Thanks, because I’d rather engage and discuss things with other people. Just block me and move on. I already have you blocked because I don’t want to see anything you post but people keep sending me your posts talking about me. I will ask you this one last time, but you need to stop. Find something else to do with your life. Get a hobby away from the computer. If I was once an edgy shitlord until I decided to be my actual self instead of the stupid facade I put on, you can stop being an edgy shitlord too.

[btsandvmin]

Ask: Reply - 2021.03.25

Time to go through some of your asks! I am glad you seemed to like the new format and I’ll keep it up for now. (If you have any suggestions for improvement feel free to comment.) I got a lot this time and with pretty varying topics, so it took a while for me to write this even if it still seems pretty sloppy. I also got two asks I just answer briefly but didn’t want to include due to the topics. Anyways, let’s get to it. :)

Topics:

Ask 1 - Anon share about shipping Ji/hope and becoming a Vminie Ask 2 - Reasons to ship Vmin and no leaks of a relationship (+ rumors ask) Ask 3 - Stress over my analysis “making people delusional” Ask 4 - Tae/kook and Ji/kook being big ships (+t/k shippers ask) Ask 5 - Not enjoying a bond because of it’s shippers Ask 6 - Vmin videocall while getting make-up. Ask 7 - Vmin shaking hands Ask 8 - Wheesa from Mamamoo Ask 9 - Any wholesome fic recs?

(I got a few more left, but the post was getting long, so I’ll save them for next time. I promise I’ll answer them in my next ask post.)

Ask 1 - Anon share about shipping Ji/hope and becoming a Vminie

Hi and thank you for sharing your story, I always find it interesting to read how people found their way to Vmin and in particular if they shipped something else first. Don’t worry about it being long, it was a fun read. :)

I see what you mean with there being “something about Jimin” and I actually think he is so shippable with all BTS members. He truly works so well and is so sweet and cute with all of them. I also think Ji/hope (as many hyung x maknae line ships) is a very underrated ship. And they used to be very big on the fanservice on stage in the early years too so they definitely have some “questionable moments” in that sense as well. 

I think the way Jimin express his love for all his members is amazing and has probably lead to all of them expressing their love a lot more opnely. Think of how Jimin started their tradition of giving gifts for their birthdays for example. Honestly, all BTS ships are good ships but I really think Jimin’s way of being so openly affectionate just makes all his ships very soft and full of love. But yes, more love to Ji/hope please, because they have a lot of great moments. 

It’s interesting how you say you were affected by the platonic label Vmin has. I really think it’s very strong and works very well on a majority of the fandom and on most people that don’t dig a bit deeper and question what Vmin have actually done. That being said, a lot of the surface level things for all ships are great, and I do think you really have to deep dive into a ship to get the more actually questionable moments a lot of the time. And I think with Vmin this hasn’t been done so much, so people might be surprised when they actually do look closer.

I also like how the lipstick moment and the kissing the doll moments made you end up questioning Vmin. For me who has looked at Vmin for so long these were just more examples of things I had already seen, but I am sure many newer fans (just like you did) would react and look twice at these moments. I’ll tell you though, these moments are just barely scratching the surface of questionable things that Vmin have done.

I am glad you like my blog and think the things I say makes sense, though I do want to be clear and say it’s just me guessing and making theories. I am glad they make sense, but I could still be wrong. :P Thank you again for sharing your own story, and I hope you will keep on enjoying Vmin and my blog. <3

Ask 2 - Reasons to ship Vmin and no leaks of a relationship (rumors)

I mean, I think I have shared my reasons to ship Vmin in pretty much every post I have ever done on this blog. There’s a lot of them after all... But if you haven’t already I would suggest checking out my posts 10 Reasons to ship Vmin and 10 more reasons to ship Vmin. 

I stress the point that Vmin could easily be platonic but simply extremely close all the time as well, so we could definitely be reading too much into things. Of course this goes for all shippers (or rather believers, there is a difference after all). I suspect your question might not be about shipping but rather if Vmin could be real and what reasons I might have to think that is possible. You can check my post Shipping vs Believing if you want to know how I view things very differently when it comes to simply shipping and anything that goes beyond shipping).

As for what makes Vmin stand out as more likely compared to other ships I guess the main things I take into account are: The songs, Vmin being careful (including friendzoning and other members’ reactions to them), their sometimes contradicting behavior (like them being soulmates but seemingly being awkward with some things or not being together as much as we might expect etc.), the way they do some very romantic looking things and have increased those behaviors over time and then just a lot of interesting moments and their close relationship in general. Also, soulmates is not a label to underestimate.

As for leaks I think you have to ask the same question for all idols, and all relationships. I mean, how many leaks of any BTS relationship have we gotten? I don’t think the guys have lived in celibate for their whole careers. Not to mention a lot of idols date secretly, and for LGBT+ idols I am sure they would be even more careful. But at the same time people also would likely be less suspicious unless they do something very obvious. I mean, think of all the things we have seen BTS do openly. I also think we have to remember that if it’s something that the fans doesn’t want to know or believe it also is less likely to get spread. For example that an idol they love would be LGBT+... because heteronormativity and homophobia is not to be taken lightly either. I also think you underestimate how many secrets insiders in all entertainment industries are keeping. I am sure many idols are pretty open with their dating to many, but it doesn’t get spread because there is a risk with being the whistle blower as well. Perhaps in particular with exposing someone’s sexuality which could ruin their whole career... And any person trying to ruin BTS’s reputation at this point might honestly get lynched by all of Korea.

I also know some rumors (not about sexuality) even gets pushed away as spread by antis etc. So sometimes even when rumors leak they get shut down. In the end there are a lot of rumors floating around, many that contradict each other as well, but I don’t think lack of rumors has to mean it is impossible for it to be happening. Again, many in the LGBT+ community aren’t even out to their own family and manages to hide that... We don’t know enough about how two members in a relationship would be or how open they would be to begin with. I suspect in the case of Vmin they would be very careful and only a select few would know. 

There could also be leaks, but they don’t reach the mainstream fandom. Like how I learned about the problems and disbandment talk back in the summer of 2018. Some things definitely do get leaked, but it is also very difficult to know if they are real or not until confirmed.

But I do think if a couple is real and they are pretty open with it, eventually they would either be in an obvious glass closet or there would be rumors or even confirmation. Because if a couple isn’t careful to begin with then they clearly risk exposure and likely wouldn’t mind too much to be outed.

It’s definitely a complicated topic, and a whole world we as fans don’t know enough about to even come to any real conclusions. So don’t worry about not knowing, it’s not like we as outsider can easily know how things work as they are likely even different for each company, group, couple, individual etc.

I also want to adress one ask I got but won’t include, about a particular sasaeng rumor ((part of ask: there was news going around by saesung (idk if I spelled it right sorry)...)). I only have two things to say, because I don’t want to spread any of these rumors or want any of you to look for these things.

1. Rumors are rumors, we have no idea what sources they come from and many times they also contradict each other. Often they can be spread by antis of some kind with an agenda to hurt or worry. It’s better to simply pay them no attention most of the time.

2. If the rumors are ridiculous in nature, as the one you asked about, it’s even better to not spread it further. In this case it would go against the personalities of the members and against their own words. It would mean BTS lied to us straight to our faces about something there is no reason to lie about, and thus doesn’t have any reason to happen to begin with. Be open of course, but also think critically. Don’t worry in vain, just try to ignore stuff like this.

Ask 3 - Stress over my analysis “making people delusional”

Thank you a lot @phantomavenger​, your message really soothes me. This is a dilemma I’ve struggled with a lot over the years actually. If sharing stuff and theories about Vmin might not be good, no matter if I am right or wrong. Because if Vmin are together I am basically working to exposing them against their will and if I am wrong I might be a factor in people believing in something that isn’t real, which might end up hurting them. 

I usually end up thinking that maybe it’s better for things to come from me with a more nuanced take than that someone else finds it and it spreads in a more uncontrolled and delusional way right away. If that makes sense? I know this might sound very conceited, but since I know my words are being spread I at least hope to make people understand the importance of not jumping to conclusions and sounding too sure of anything we don’t really know. Again, a lot of ships have believers, and that says something. We should all be careful both for our own sake and for the privacy of the boys. Normalizing delusional behavior is what usually leads to worse and worse things being done “in the name of the ship” as well and I just don’t want that from Vminies. The trickle down effect of people misunderstanding or twisting my words is also a bit scary.  There are also so many shipper at this point that I think most things I point out will eventually likely be pointed out or noticed by someone else anyway, so...

But you are right, I can’t take responsibility for people taking my things out of context or getting convinced even though I try to tell them not to. In the end I write analysis on Vmin because I don’t think anything I find is enough to actually prove anything (this goes for all ships btw). I’ll share my analysis and with it I will also have many reasons on why shipping real people and “knowing a ship is real” is so much more difficult than many seem to think. 

Here’s a sneak peak in case anyone is interested. 

Don’t worry, I’ll try to edit it and make it more concise. Thank you again for your kind words and reassurance. :)

Ask 4 - Tae/kook and Ji/kook being big ships

Hi, and wecome to the fandom! I hope you will enjoy being an ARMY and keep liking Vmin. :3

I answered recently about big ships (Ask: Reply - 2021.03.18 Ask 3 - What makes a ship big?) and I’ve talked about popularity regarding these certain ships before as well in Why do you think Vmin get so brozoned by the fandom?

First I would like to say that “vibes” to me doesn’t really say much... All shippers clearly have their own perception of the members and their dynamics, otherwise everyone would ship the same thing. That being said I think projecting is part of many shippers’ reasons to ship and definitely think it’s part in why JK ships in general are very popular. Not just within BTS but for straight ships as well.

I don’t think there is ever one simple reason for why someone ships something, and same for why they might think a pair is actually together. Me might all have our own reasons for why we like a certain ship. For me all ships in BTS have good enough chemistry and dynamics to be shipped and I don’t think there is anything weird with those ships being popular. Especially since they’ve basically been popular since the start for their own reasons and then simply kept growing.

In short I think these things might play a big part in why some ships get bigger than others:

1. Projecting and falling for a ship similar to your own preference in a relationship 2. Amount of moments, and type of moments. 3. Type of relationship and the fandom view. Some dynamics will draw people in more even if it’s only percieved dynamics and stereotyping. Sexual tension and complicated drama is more “fun” than “friends to lovers” trope. 4. How popular they are. Big ships will grow bigger faster. More exposure and material by fans might make people find big ships easier. 5. Room for analysis. Honestly, if a ship seems “complicated” it might be more interesting to dig deeper into. So when people see analysis of ji/kook or tae/kook they get interested and might get more involved. Basically if analysis are being made it will make people more invested, and for Vmin it’s not that people can’t analyze them, but rather that not many have. So you won’t find as many fans deep diving and looking harder at Vmin compared to many other ships.

Again, ships might be popular for many different reasons, but I don’t think size of a ship really is that important. Just ship and let others ship what they like as well.

I also want to briefly adress an ask I got but that I won’t post, because I got yet another ask about Tae/kook. I’m sorry I won’t include the ask but I definitely agree with your comment to “Look at V as an individual person, not part of a ship”. This should be obvious and apply for all shippers. 

But I do want to say that I don’t think shipping a particular pair is the problem, it’s how you do it. I personally see no problem with shipping anything as long as it only is shipping, which is a fantasy. I ship Chen x Baekhyun from EXO and Chen is married... I simply enjoy their dynamic as a fantasy. Just like how I enjoy characters in a book or movie I am aware it isn’t real. I mostly see shipping as a problem when you let it affect how you behave towards people with different opinions or if you push it onto the people themselves which is never ok (even if it would be real). Of course there are many examples of shippers taking things too far, but I don’t think the ship in itself is the problem, but again what those shippers might do. So yeah, I condone any shipper who crosses the line and push things onto the members, but I don’t think shipping in itself is bad.

Ask 5 - Not enjoying a bond because of it’s shippers

Hi, and first of all I am sorry you are feeling like this. I think sadly this is quite a common problem, and I am not sure I have any good answers for you. But I’ll try. I do recognize this feeling though I have mostly felt it in other fandoms where shippers of “rival” ships got me so annoyed it was difficult to not just see the shippers’ reactions every time they had a moment. Which made it less fun and sometimes hard to enjoy their moments even though I would have usually. What I did in that case was actually stop engaging in the fandom all together for a while, to take a step back as many of my own fellow shippers’ negativity about the other shippers and their theories affected me as well (btw this was a fictional ship so it’s quite different in many ways).

It’s sad when shipping affect us this much, but it can be hard when we invest so much time and get so much enjoyment out of it. I am not sure how bad you feel, but I think when you feel conflicted (possibly cognitive dissonance) when coming across ji/kook content it might have gone a bit too far (I talk about it a bit in this post) and be too attached to the idea of your own ship. If so you might want to consider taking a step back and engage with the fandom less and just focus on enjoying the actual content we get. If you simply react due to shippers and don’t actually care if ji/kook are happy together (or even would be real) I would simply suggest trying to stay away from those people. Sadly over analyzing the members happens a lot and will likely not stop anytime soon. I know it’s not that easy, but I don’t really have any better advice. Try to find places you can be while feeling happy, or take a break if you have to. Distance and time might help at times and I know many people who take breaks from their fandoms when they get too much for them and they get less enjoyment from being part of the community.

For me I did also have a period when looking at Ji/kook made me a bit annoyed or even sad. It was during a period when I was extra sensitive and wasn’t feeling very good so even small things affected me more than they should. But it had less to do with Ji/kook and more to do with consuming very toxic narratives from Ji/kook shippers that basically included Vmin being fake or played up. The idea of Vmin being fake hurts me much more than any other ship being real. Consuming a lot of quite toxic Ji/kook theories made me think Ji/kook being real would equal Vmin being fake and thus seeing Ji/kook hurt a bit.

What worked for me was realizing that this narrative makes no actual sense and there is no point in me worrying about Vmin being fake. And if they would be I know my reaction would simply be to walk away as I wouldn’t enjoy BTS if they lie about things there is no reason to lie about. This took away the feeling of being insecure, and I can be happy with just knowing Vmin are soulmates, no matter what kind. 

I also stopped looking up analysis of other ships and simply keep in mind that even if other ships are real it doesn’t change the bond between Vmin. I know enough about other ships to see their weird moments and to know I shouldn’t be certain about my own ship. I can also see what other shippers might see in a moment on my own at this point, so I do see how seeing moments might make you just think of what theories it might lead to. For me it was about changing my own mindset about other ships vs Vmin and to simply not consume content that was toxic or made me feel bad. Basically, even if Ji/kook or any other ship would be real it wouldn’t bother me as I know what Vmin has is still incredibly special and genuine.

To me this worked, but every person has their own limits. I would suggest backing off from consuming shipping content and simply look at how much the actual content shows the love between the boys. And also if possible try to get with the idea that even if another ship is real, that isn’t neccessarily bad. I would be happy for any ship if it was real at this point as long as they make each other happy, and I don’t feel threatened by other ships because of it.

As for shippers being bad or toxic, sadly with size and confidence it seems to happen a lot. I simply don’t bother with antis or over analyzing shippers of any kind that put very negative narratives on the boys. I know there will always be some bad ones in all bigger fandoms, so I try to not let it affect me too much. In fact I feel more hurt when my own ship communities engage in toxic behavior as that is harder to ignore and walk away from.

Thank you for sharing your struggles and I hope I could help maybe even a little. I know it’s not easy and as you say the guilt is also hard to deal with. I know I might have strayed away from your actual issue, but it’s a very difficult topic for me too. But at least your worry shows you truly do care for the members and don’t want to see them in a negative light. Just try to do what you need to do to feel better, even if it might be hard to do. Also thank you so much for liking my blog. <3

Ask 6 - Vmin videocall while getting make-up.

I am going to be frank here, this is a moment where fans most likely saw incorrectly and then some still spread it as a Vmin moment. I know people debated about it when it happened and I am sure people still have different opinions on it. But for me since it seems pretty clear the screen corresponds with how Tae moves the phone and takes a picture of himself. I think it was on selfie mode, not that it was a video call. This image I found might be edited because it look very much like Jimin, but it could also be accidental that this screenshot really really looked like him. I know it really looks like Jimin and the paleness of the screen makes it difficult to know... But if you watch the video in it’s original size and quality you see it’s Tae pretty clearly.

The video is  [BANGTAN BOMB] Jin's Sunglasses Collection in Hong Kong - BTS (방탄소년단). You can watch it around 2.10. Sorry for bursting the bubble. But hey, at least we know Vmin actually do facetime each other despite how much they see each other. :)

Ask 7 - Vmin and shaking hands

Vmin really are extra with the shaking (and holding/touching) hands, aren’t they? To be fair I think they do this quite a lot with other members as well, but it’s still definitely a Vmin thing. ;)

As for Brooklyn 99 I have watched clips, but not the full show, so I know who Holt and Kevin are... But I didn’t know they did that. That’s really sweet. Though obviously it sucks they can’t just be like any other couple and would have to make hand shaking their public display of affection (though I suppose it could just be their personalities as well? Like I said I don’t know the show too well.)

Funny but I actually wrote a little drabble Vmin part of something similar at one point... Though it wasn’t about shaking hands but instead fist bumps, as Vmin was doing that a lot at that time. I just find the idea of Vmin making anything normal into something cute and intimate, like an inside joke, very endearing. Thank you for sharing. :)

Ask 8 - Wheesa from Mamamoo

Thank you for sharing this cute moment. :) I really do like Mamamoo and from the few moments I have seen with them they seem really sweet with each other. Also I love Twit, it’s such a bop! 

Wouldn’t it be amazing if Vmin followed suit and Jimin appears in Tae’s MV for KTH1? :3

Ask 9 - Any wholesome fic recs?

Hi and thank you for your kind words. :3 English isn’t my native language and I struggle with being articulate sometimes, so your comment makes me really happy. :)

As for fics I am sorry, I have two big fic recs and I feel most of my favorites are included in those. (Huge Vmin fic rec and Vmin fic rec - Canon compliant) I know they don’t have any indications of rating etc. but for now looking through these lists to check if they fit what you like is what I have. If anyone has any particularly wholesome BTS fics to rec feel free to add them in the replies. :) Thank you and sorry for not coming with any actual recs in this reply. 

And that will conclude this post as it was starting to get a little long. :) I do have some asks left, and I’ll try to answer them as soon as I can with my next post. Thank you all for your interesting questions and shared stories. I hope you found this post enjoyable, or at least worth a read, as it included some pretty heavy topics.

[a-froger-epic]

About the Interview

Since I posted the interview with J - a woman who has described herself to me as one of Queen’s first “groupies” - there has naturally been a lot of discussion about the veracity of the interview, the source, and my own motivations in posting it. I fully expected that, and I will say once more that nobody (apart from a small handful of anonymous trolls) has behaved inappropriately in these discussions. I have not received any “hate” because of this. There is no “drama”. Nobody is wrong, or a party-pooper, or attacking me by expressing their doubts. I have seen some awful bile spat at people anonymously recently, and that kind of behaviour has got to stop.

Now, if you don't think I am genuine, there is obviously nothing I can do about that. 

However, what I am hoping to do here is add as much transparency as I can in regard to how and why the interview happened, and also share my own full thoughts on it with you. 

First things first. No unverified, anonymous source can be seen as definitive proof of anything, ever. That is my stance. I have myself been criticised for so much as suggesting that other anonymous sources tied in with Freddie’s history are not 100% proof of one thing or another. But for me, an anonymous source can never mean more than at best: this seems very likely, but we can’t be 100% certain.

Perhaps I was naive to think that what I considered to be enough of a disclaimer at the beginning of the interview, was enough. My intention was to express that while I, personally, believe J to be a) the person she says she is and b) genuine about what she remembers, that does not mean I believe everything she has told me is fact or happened in that exact way. I thought this was obvious. Perhaps I was unclear, and I apologise for that. 

So let me be clear. There is nobody in the world who has perfect, factual recollections of what happened to them almost 50 years ago. Not even J herself claims for one moment that this is the case. She mentions several times that these are old memories from when she was very young, that she indulged in recreational drugs at the time, and that her views - of course - carry a personal bias. All this, I thought, would be enough for readers to know not to take everything they read at face value.

All of the above is why I kept my own thoughts and notes to a minimum within the interview, why I didn’t correct or point out obvious mistakes. I simply assumed that everybody would go away and read the interview against all the sources and information they already have, as I have done myself.

But maybe that was somewhat irresponsible of me, and I should have been the first person to dig into how J’s memories fit in (or don’t) with the information which is already out there, and how to put the two together. While I refrained from sharing all my thoughts alongside the interview (although I have fragmentally done so in response to other people since), others like @quirkysubject​ (here), @iwilltrytobereasonable​ (here), @emmaandorlando​ (here), @sarinataylor​ and @talkingismylifewrites​ (here) all had some very good things to say. All of them make excellent points. DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES SEND THEM NASTY MESSAGES. I frankly can’t believe I have to say this at all.

I found myself in a difficult position, because as the person who had spoken to J and asked her all these questions, I did not feel as though I could dissect her words as freely as anybody else. She has put a lot of trust in me, and I do not want her to think that I question her honesty and intentions. Because I don’t. If I hadn’t felt as sure as I reasonably can be that she is the person she says she is, and that her story is genuine from her perspective, if I had been in any doubt about that, I would not have made it public.

Here's the thing:

Even if you don't believe J knew the boys, her recollections of the time period alone are still valuable and incredibly interesting, giving us a glimpse of early 1970s London. 

But I do believe J. Why?

Before I answer that, let me just say: I fully realise that of course the fact that it was my story J happened across, and me she decided to speak to because of it, makes me more inclined to want to believe her. However, other authors I'm friends with, as well as myself, have received messages from older people several times before. It does trigger nostalgia when a story is very strongly rooted in a time somebody has lived through. There are older people in the fandom. (I recently ran a poll and all age groups were represented even here on Tumblr.) 

Now, on to the reasons why my communication with J has felt nothing but authentic to me.

1. She was never in any rush to get in touch with me or relate information to me. It took her a few days to email me after she first spoke to me in the comment section, where I begged her to please get in touch. She then sent me the same email five times, over two days, because she couldn’t quite work my email address out at first. 

I ended up asking several questions more than once to get an answer because they were overlooked. The conversation went off on tangents, and we chatted about her weekend at her friend’s house (and I was presented with a beautiful snapshot of the beach), the memory box her daughter made for her, her work and other things. There were stretches of days at a time when J simply didn’t find the time to get back to me. And I may have badgered her with a few too many emails asking her to please remember to answer my questions when she has a moment. In short, it was the opposite of somebody rushing to share their story. I was doing all the rushing. (I realise that I am asking you to take my word for this, but this did not all happen in a vacuum. @plainxte​, @quirkysubject​, @fingersfallingupwards​, @onegoldenglance​ and @freddieofhearts​ witnessed the process first-hand, as well as my excitement and some of J’s original emails.)

2. J was very trusting. I know her full name, where she lives and her place of work. She sent me current pictures of herself and her husband unprompted. At no point did she ask me not to reveal her identity, that is a call I made because I did not want to expose her to any possible harassment.

3. There were a few things in her account of what she remembered which were so obviously at odds with what we know to be true - it’s well-known John is a bit taller than Roger, for example, but J remembered him shorter, Queen went to Sydney in ‘85, J remember it as ‘84 - that I couldn’t help but think, if I was somebody who was trying to convince others of a made up story, the first thing I would surely do is make absolutely certain to get the facts which are easily findable right. Instead, J always lead with: this was all a long time ago, I’m sorry, I’m doing my best trying to remember.

I realise that a very clever hoaxer could do all this and convince me. But here the question has to be, to what end? This would be quite an act for someone to arrange, to make it seem quite so naturalistic. Nobody would go through the trouble of doing that for nothing. There’s no monetary gain. Scandal? There is nothing scandalous in the interview. Attention? J is barely an active member of the fandom. She has managed to create a Tumblr though: @since72​. There is one post currently. 

It also took her a couple of days to get back to me after I posted the interview.

In brief, I have no logical explanation for why somebody would go to these lengths and fool me so cleverly, with such attention to detail, when there seems to be nothing in it for them. Why then did J bother to talk to me at all? What was her motivation? Well, after I thanked her profusely for doing this, she simply said that she felt she owed me as reading my story had brought back so many memories for her.

All of the above is why I strongly feel that J is very much real and genuine. But I completely understand that it all hinges on the fact that in order to believe everything I say is true, you would have to trust me. And I know that as I am just another person on the internet, you have no reason to do that. But I’ll get to me in a moment.

Here are a few more doubts which I have seen come up with regard to J.

Why would she be reading fanfiction about people she knew? That’s weird.

To be perfectly honest, exactly that was my first reaction, too. But then I thought about it and talked to friends about it. 

Firstly, J says herself that she was never a close friend. I agree that it would be far weirder to read fanfiction about somebody you knew very well. Having said that, John Deacon’s son has been known to read Queen fanfic about his father (and read it out on his YouTube channel). But I think given that it’s been half a century and J has been watching Queen in the public eye ever since, it isn’t really all that strange to read about fictional versions of them.

Secondly, a friend of mine noticed that it seems as though older people in the fandom find J overall more credible than younger people. I’m 35, and it is true that the older we get, the more we look for the things which remind us of our younger years. There is an urge to remember and re-live. You can trust me on this, or you can ask anyone over the age of 30 or 40. Nostalgia is real, and it only comes to you with age. Why would somebody who had briefly brushed shoulders with people who later became celebrities not take an interest in them later? It seems natural that she would. As J says, she never stopped being a fan of Queen’s music and came across fanfic when she looked up Adam Lambert. Is it really so strange that she would find fanfic about them entertaining? Having given it all this thought, I really don’t think so.

It’s unrealistic that she was so young.

This is something I have to disagree with. Times were different. Pete Townshend entered Ealing Art School at age 16, according to Wikipedia. My mother (currently 62) moved 600km away from home at the age of 15 to study piano at music college. I myself moved out from home at 17 (no tragic reasons whatsoever), but that’s beside the point. I have seen it framed in a way where it was said that “It isn’t realistic that a 16-year-old was hanging out with Queen who were all in their 20s”. I agree, it would be a little strange if the story was that one 16-year-old girl was hanging out with Queen by herself as their good buddy. But that is not the story. (Even though it is well-known that during the 60s and 70s, young teenaged groupies did in fact hang out with rock groups very frequently. Of course, J was not that kind of groupie.) She was simply part of a large circle of friends, by her own admission not a close friend of the band. Personally, I struggle to see how this is unrealistic in any way. 

It seems super suspicious that she lost her photos in a flood.

Yes, it does. I agree. J realises that, too. 

Like @quirkysubject​ said in her post, I don’t blame anyone who is too sceptical at this point. But there actually was a pretty bad flood in Australia in 1988.

There are mistakes in J’s story!

Yes, there are! Let me point them out to you. I already mentioned John’s height and Queen being in Australia in ‘85, not ‘84. I also think that her perception that Freddie was taller than Roger in ‘72, but no longer in the 80s, had everything to do with platform shoes. I have to say that I did ask J some questions which I knew were things which are almost impossible to remember about people you weren’t particularly close to. I knew there was no way she would be able to accurately recall their heights, but I still wanted to know what the impression was which she had come away with. I don’t for one moment think she could possibly know why and if Freddie’s nickname was really ‘Freddie Baby’ at EAS well before she went there. But I still wanted to hear what she thought of that. This is why I stated specifically that this entire interview consists of one woman’s subjective opinions and memories. That alone means you can absolutely not take any of it as definitive fact. That just isn’t how memory works.

Kensington Market and the stall:

J’s answers on this one thoroughly confused me. Not only did she say that while she saw Freddie at the market a lot, Roger was hardly ever there, but there was also some Indian man working at the stall during the week (who I don’t think could have been Freddie’s father). She saw Freddie at multiple stalls, a girl named Jill also worked at the stall… and J was under the impression that Roger and Freddie hadn’t even started the stall. None of this made a whole lot of sense to me, until somebody pointed out that the original stall owned by Roger and Freddie must have closed in the second half of 1971. (Sources: Queen in Cornwall & Queen: As it Began)

It is confirmed (same sources as above) that Freddie worked at the market until as late as 1974. I think it is therefore entirely possible that J would have seen him working at Alan’s stall, or helping out at other stalls, and the likelihood that Roger would have come to hang out with him on a weekend is fairly high, in my opinion. Later, reading about Freddie and Roger running a stall, J would have had no reason to think that this wasn’t the same stall she had seen them at. And yes, this is of course only a theory.

The gay pride march:

@rushingheadlong​, who has recently done a lot of fantastic research about Tim, confirms that there’s no chance (as far as we know) that Tim could have been at the march. Did any of them really go? Is J misremembering entirely? Could it be that one of them or two of them went, and looking back, J remembers it as all of them (minus John, however) because she was used to mostly seeing them all together? Does she remember them from another protest march and got it mixed up with the gay rights march? I can’t say. The march and who exactly went is a big question mark. Even J herself is only “pretty sure” that they were all there, and I have to say, I can’t tell you who was where exactly when I think back to when I was 16. Certainly not when there was a big group of people around. And that was only 20 years ago for me.

Lastly, I’m going to try and use the guide our awesome local historian @emmaandorlando​ provided on how to analyse new sources. Of course, I’m not a historian (and I’m also partly the source by being the interviewer, so I can perhaps only do this impertectly), but let’s give it a go.

1. Who wrote this document? 

‘Written historical records were created by individuals in a specific historical setting for a particular purpose. Until you know who created the document you have read, you cannot know why it was created or what meanings its author intended to impart by creating it’.

In this case, the answer is two-fold because essentially I wrote the interview, in as far as that I asked the questions, I gave it shape and presented it in the form in which it came, but the answers are J’s. I completely understand that this is already a big stumbling block for many, because not only am I presenting her as an anonymous source, but many of you don’t know anything about me. If you follow me on Tumblr, you will know that I have shared more with the internet than is probably wise. But still, I am somebody you know little about, presenting to you a person you know even less about. Whether you trust me or not is entirely down to your own judgement and instinct, and that will be different for everybody.

(I’ve seen it said that I’m plugging my own work through this interview. If that was my plan, I’m afraid it’s failed miserably. I looked, and DoA has gained a whopping 2 or 3 kudos.)

2. Who is the intended audience?

‘The relationship between author and audience is one of the most basic elements of communication and one that will tell you much about the purpose of the document. Think of the difference between the audience for a novel and that for a diary, or for a law and for a secret treaty. Knowing the audience allows you to begin to ask important questions, such as; “Should I believe what I am being told?”’

The intended audience is the Queen fandom on Tumblr and AO3. I have no interest in sharing this anywhere else because I’m not familiar with the other fan communities (Facebook? Instagram?) and wouldn’t know how to go about it. For J, the intended audience was mostly me, an author she likes who was very interested in her memories.

3. Why was this document written?

‘Everything is written for a reason. Understanding the purpose of a historical document is critical to analysing the strategies that the author employs within it. A document intended to convince will employ logic; a document intended to entertain will employ fancy; a document attempting to motivate will employ emotional appeals. In order to find these strategies, you must know what purpose the document was intended to serve.’

I got really, really excited. That is the reason. When J got in touch with me, I had a decision to make. I could ask her all the questions I wanted privately and share her answers only with my "inner circle” of fandom friends, or I could share everything with the fandom spaces where I’ve been very active in the last two years. I wanted to share the excitement and decided to do the latter.

I also wanted to present the interview in a way where it would be an engaging, well-structured read and not simply all of her emails to me dumped here with a quick ‘there you go’. So I tried to wrap it in a beautiful “package”, which is why I asked her for her art, for example.

4. What type of document is this?

‘The form of a document is vital to its purpose. The form or genre in which a document appears is always carefully chosen. Genre contains its own conventions, which fulfil the expectations of author and audience.’

An interview, written by somebody who has never interviewed anyone before.

5. Can I believe this document?

‘To be successful, a document designed to persuade, to recount events, or to motivate people to action must be believable to its audience. For the critical historical reader, it is that very believability that must be examined. Every author has a point of view, and exposing the assumptions of the document is an essential task for the reader. 

You must treat all claims sceptically (even while admiring audacity, rhetorical tricks, and clever comparisons). One question you certainly want to ask is, “is this a likely story?” Testing the credibility of a document means looking at it from the other side.’

This is for all of you to decide for yourselves, and that was always the case. Far be it from me to be upset with anyone who straight up doesn’t believe a word I say, doesn’t believe J is real or any other scepticism. I’ll say it again, DO NOT harass anyone for expressing their opinions on this! It is NOT WRONG to discuss a new source! It’s wonderful that people are doing it!

And so, we come to that last question: Is this a likely story? 

Personally, I can firmly answer that with: Yes. In my personal opinion, it is. I find J’s story very likely and there is close to nothing that makes me question that these are indeed her real memories. But given the nature of human memory, they are just as imperfect as anybody else’s and do not, and should not, supersede any factual, verified information we already have.

With that, I hope to have provided a bit more clarity and transparency, and leave you - as before - to make up your own minds.

[3pirouette]

Fic: Worthy (or Five Times Steve Talked to People about Time Travel and One Time He Didn’t) (1/1)

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine. Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: “What…what if I stay?” He took a breath. “I don’t feel like there’s much for me there… in the future… anymore. I’m tired. I wanted… I wanted to hang up the shield when that war was over… I think I’ve given more than my fair share.” His words fell to nothing as he finished that sentence. “I only ever wanted to do my fair share…”

A/N: I started this on August 8, 2019. I have revisited it various times since then, fixing things that were misremembered after we got Endgame on DVD and fixing tenses. It feels more appropriate than ever right now to post, though. The first section, with Wanda, was written back in 2019. I’ve made minor edits, but her words have been around LONG before WandaVision was even announced. Obviously, by the ending, AU.

Also, I KNOW I skip potentially the MOST important person he should be talking to, but Steve’s conversation with Bucky from this fic actually got pulled out and turned into it’s own fic/universe: Six Dates, Times, and Places. Read that if you need some BFF Steve and Bucky.

~*~

Steve woke up at night in cold sweats, still feeling the vibranium cracking under his fingers as he tried to recenter himself, as he tried to remember where he was. The small tent on the edge of the former battlefield wasn’t much, but it was better than he’d been used to when he was in the trenches, and it was enough for now.

He let other people, better equipped people like Pepper and Strange and Sam handle the big stuff- the cities and the government and the publicity and the how of everything they did. He was never really prepared for what happened if they brought everyone back, he admitted it to himself now on dark nights when he woke up with his heart racing, that he never really thought they’d do it.

He headed up the clean-up: walking through the destruction and trying to put some order to it, helping dig out the bodies of good men and women who lost their lives, who wouldn’t be brought back by a snap, helping destroy the tech that Thanos had brought so it never fell into the wrong hands. He and Wanda spent their days putting right what went so very, very wrong.

Even with everything nearly done, with the building nearly ready for renovation and every lost soul accounted for and laid to rest, it didn’t seem over. It had been weeks, and yet the years before seemed like moments. He spent his days moving like a ghost, going from task to task, keeping his thoughts to himself.

After it was over, when the clean-up was deemed done and it had been decided it was time to move on, Wanda was the first person he said anything to as they stood together on the ridge, overlooking the old Avengers headquarters as it was bulldozed to the ground. “I should probably feel happier,” Wanda mumbled. “At peace.”

Steve sighed, looking at the scorched dirt beneath his feet: it was ruined. Nothing would grow there for years after the hit it took. “You don’t have to feel anything.” He looked at her, unsurprised to find tears slowly making their way down her cheeks. “I don’t.”

“I’ve thought so many times about…” The words caught in her throat, but she took a deep breath and continued, “About sneaking into Bruce’s lab and taking that stone. The time stone…”

Steve didn’t say anything, just waited for her to finish: he was afraid that his own selfish desires regarding that stone would just fuel her own.

“But going back wouldn’t fix it,” her words were as much for his benefit as her own. They both knew it was far, far too tempting.

“You don’t think so?” He played the devils advocate, and it felt good to let it out. “You don’t think that maybe you two could just avoid it all? Or even stop it all?”

“After this?” She looked over the dead land and shuddered. “The way I understand it, it would always happen, would always come. And I just…” Her voice broke, and there was a darkness in her eyes he was uncomfortable with when she turned to face him. “I just couldn’t live through that again.”

Wanda turned to walk away, but stopped, looking back at him. “We deserve more,” she whispered. “We’ve lost everything to make this happen. We deserve more.”

It wasn’t much of a conversation, but it was enough to remind him that those dark thoughts were just that- thoughts. And those thoughts would have consequences he wasn’t ready to pay the price for, or so he told himself.

Deep down, he felt like he deserved something, too.

~*~

The next time he discussed time travel was with Bruce and Hank. Pym was describing the use of his newly altered regulators while Bruce was constructing a smaller platform. This would be the last time, they both said over and over, that it would be used. Pym planned to destroy all references to the quantum realm in his work and Bruce had been working with Fury and Shield to carefully control the flow of information about what had happened.

“Son, please tell me you understand how dangerous this little trip of yours is going to be?” Pym asked him softly, laying both his hands on the table as he looked him right in the eyes. For a minute, Steve felt like he was back with Erskine- Pym had the ability to see straight into his soul the same way that man did.

“I understand, sir.” Steve nodded, trying to hide every morsel of dark thought, every late-night inkling and every dark moment. He was going to bring the stones back, return, and… and…  He doesn’t know where he fits in in this new world, doesn’t even know if he wants to, really, and that must be what Pym saw on his face.

Pym narrowed his eyes at him, but didn’t move. The silence stretched so long that even Bruce stopped what he was doing to look over and watch. “Ask your question.”

Steve could barely hold the façade of surprise for a breath before it fell. He let the pretense fall away: his shoulders hunched, his eyes dropped to the floor, and he felt like a different man. He felt like Steve, the broken veteran, and not Captain America, the superhero. “How much… how much damage can I really do?”

Before Pym could speak, Bruce put down his wrench and had his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I know that look, Steve. That’s the look I had about a million times before I left every place that ever meant anything to me.”

Pym slid a stool over and sat softly, his face grim. “There’s not much that you could say that would surprise either of us, so I suggest you come out with it.”

Steve looked at them, their faces as open and honest as his was at every grief management group he ran during the dusted years: they were waiting for him to say that he wasn’t coming back because he wanted to take his life.

But it was more like he wanted to take his life back.  It hadn’t been his since Erskine accepted him into Project Rebirth, he just didn’t know it then.

“Don’t I…” He stopped, staring at his shoes. It took a lot for him to look up, into their eyes. “I don’t feel like…” He stopped again and took another deep breath. He wasn’t sure if they’d ever understand. He wasn’t sure if they could.

He shoved his hand in his pocket and it bumped against him compass. His lifeline. His reminder.  

He knew their stories. If anyone could understand, they would.

He pulled the compass out and opened it gently, putting it on the table. “Her name was…”

“Peggy Carter,” Pym finished. “She busted my balls as the head of Shield, but she was on my side when it counted.” Pym turned the compass gently, noting the slow spin of the broken dial.

Bruce looked at Steve, sadness in his eyes. “Steve, I didn’t…”

“No, I didn’t want anyone to know.” He shrugged, taking the compass in his hands. “She died, right before the bombing and the signing of the Sakovia Accords.”

Pym stood, the scraping of his chair cutting off anything either man would have said. “You were… a lot skinnier when you met her, weren’t you?” He stepped next to Steve, hands shoved in his pockets. “Kinda sickly, too.”

Steve laughed, a slight smile on his face as the memory hit him. “I wasn’t exactly in the best shape of my life.”

“Director Carter kept this picture on her desk of a skinny, kinda confused looking GI.” He looked up at Bruce, “I asked her about it one day. I knew she had a husband that no one ever got to meet, and that he was at least 6 inches taller than her based on the glimpse I managed of him once when I showed up at her house unannounced.” Hank began to circle the room, hands coming out and fidgeting. “She said it was someone she knew during the war, and that it was a reminder to never take a single thing for granted. Now, most people assumed it was her brother who was KIA.” He turned and looked at both men, a smirk on his lips. “But the way she smiled when she looked at it: it wasn’t sad and it wasn’t sisterly, either.”

Pym picked up a vial of the serum, looking at it. “Bruce, correct me if I’m wrong, but to be as honest as I can be, we really don’t know what kind of damage you could do if you go back and…” he chose his words carefully, “don’t stick to the plan.”

“Uh, that’s true. We really don’t know how this works; I just know what Strange and The Ancient One told me. That if we put them back, it should kinda… fix itself.” Banner shrugged, unsure if he was as onboard with what Pym was implying as Pym seemed to be.

Pym almost looked happy as he continued to think out loud. “We don’t know the rules. For all we know, there are no rules to it. The Quantum Realm is… nearly unknowable. But the way she looked at that picture…” He sighed, placing the vial back in its rack. He looked Steve in the eyes, open, honest, and unjudging. “You’ll have enough to get back, if you want to.”

Pym went back to his computer, and Bruce went back to his tinkering, and Steve never heard another word on the subject from either of them.

~*~

His first stop in the past was the sanctum. He wanted to meet the Ancient One, to see her, to hear what Bruce had told them for himself directly from her.

She didn’t disappoint. She took the stone back, letting it float into the locket she wore with no more fanfare than if she were asking him about the weather. “So, I assume you prevailed?”

“We did,” he confirmed, sitting when she gestured for him to join her in the library. “There were still losses…” he sighed deeply, thinking of Tony, “but we won.”

She sat quietly, waiting expectantly as the tic of the clock was the only sound between them for long minutes. “In your time,” she whispered gently. “Your question is not something that can be rushed.”

“Do you know what I’m going to ask?” He leaned forward, letting Mjolnir rest on the floor, the case full of stones next to it.

“No,” she tried to smile but it fell flat. “I can feel the anger and frustration coming off you in waves, the defeat, the… fatigue. You did not come to me first out of convenience.”

He looked away, still unsure of where to start even though he had said it a million times over in his head. In the end, he blurted it out. “What if I stay?”

He’d caught her off guard, for it wasn’t remotely what she thought he’d ask. She sat straighter; eyes wide. “I’m sorry?”

“What…what if I stay?” He took a breath. “I don’t feel like there’s much for me there… in the future… anymore. I’m tired. I wanted… I wanted to hang up the shield when that war was over… I think I’ve given more than my fair share.” His words fell to nothing as he finished that sentence. “I only ever wanted to do my fair share…”

She looked at him, wonderment in her eyes, “You never planned on giving up your whole life.”

He tried to laugh it off. “The things you don’t understand when you’re barely more than a kid, right?”

“You had hopes and dreams, just like any other man out there.” The Ancient One stood, stepping toward him. “Why that surprises me, I’m not sure. Even Gods are men at their very core. Even I was once a woman with hopes and desires.”

“It feels wrong to say these things out loud...” he let his hands fall to Mjolnir, afraid to try to lift it. Every day since the battle he’d been surprised that it still comes so easily to his hand.

She came closer until she was kneeling before him. “And yet they must be said.” She waited until he met her gaze. “If you go back to your time, my future, what waits for you?”

He took a deep breath, leaning back, eyes far away. “Friends. Duty.” He sighed with the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Putting the world back together and finding our place in the universe.”

Her expression didn’t change. “And what waits for you if you go back to the past?”

He couldn’t look at her. “I don’t… I don’t know if…”

The Ancient One put her hand on his. “What do you hope is there?”

Steve smiled briefly, the words out before he can stop them. “I had a date.”

“Love,” she whispers, almost disappointed.

“And understanding,” Steve pipes in quickly. His words grow passionate as he continues. “She knew me better than anyone ever has- she knew me before this,” he gestured to himself, not for the first time wishing his muscles were a suit he could shed to show people just what he was like, and why it’s so significant that Peggy understood him back then, “and she still stood by me. I got the feeling… I got the feeling that even if the serum never worked she still would have liked me. No, I’m sure of it. She was smart and beautiful and everything I ever dreamed my future might be.” He stopped short. “Don’t... don’t I deserve that, after all this?”  

“The universe doesn’t deal in ‘deserves’ Mr. Rogers.” She stood, her voice flat and perfunctory. “If it did children wouldn’t die of cancer and good men wouldn’t die in religious wars.” She kept her hand on his, pulling him to his feet. “The universe deals in balance, though, and I feel you are due for some rest.” She reached down, lifting the case of stones and handing it to him, but she did not even attempt to lift the hammer. “Go on,” she waited as he gingerly lifted the hammer, his breath coming easy after it was in his hand. “I cannot tell you anything for sure. But I can tell you the sanctums you know of are in existence back farther than you could imagine. Should you feel things have taken a turn for the worse, do not hesitate to find me.”

Her smile was gentle, and somewhat forced, but it made him feel just a little better.

~*~

The soul stone disappeared from his case as soon as he materialized, and he didn’t stay to find out why. He understood the toll that place could take, and he had so very little left to give.

He left so quickly he didn’t hear the Red Skull whisper his name on the wind.

~*~

Once on Asgard, he thought about just putting the hammer down and letting Thor find it, but he decided that wielding it might just get him out of trouble if he was caught trying to make his way into the palace through the underground tunnels Thor told him about.

The only person who saw him was the one he least expected.

“Why did he send you?” Loki asked from behind the forcefield. “Unless… he isn’t…”

“No, he’s not dead.” Steve supplied the information wearily.

The god paced his cell, “You’re from the future, as well, then?” He smiled at the soldier. “Thor was looking a bit… pudgy.” His voice and face showed his confusion and slight repulsion at the idea. “That’s not the Thor running around with his little girlfriend up there now. I know that much.”

“Things went…bad.” Steve didn’t know how much to tell the man. He believed Thor when he said Loki wasn’t the villain they pegged him to be, but he also was still very wary of the god. “We…did what we could.”

“Could you be any more cryptic?” Loki sat on his bed, leaning back, amusement in his voice. “Interesting development, though, there,” he pointed to Thor’s hammer, “You must truly be something to wield that.”

Something must have changed in Steve’s face, something barely perceptible, but Loki saw it. “You doubt yourself?”

Steve knew he shouldn’t talk to him, and yet, there was something alluring about the trickster. “I’m… concerned I won’t be… worthy.” It sounded lame even to him as it fell out of his lips.

Loki laughed. “Who is?” The trickster paced. He started to speak, then changed his mind with a dramatic shake of his head. He stopped, crouching behind the forcefield so he was eye to eye with Steve. “Whatever it is rattling around in your head… You’re leaving Mjolnir here, aren’t you?” Steve nodded. “Then does it really matter if you’re worthy?”

Steve looked at the god, his mind clicking slowly around the idea that perhaps his own morality didn’t matter. He tilted his head and regarded the hammer. “This is the only thing I’ve ever really wanted purely for myself, and somehow that seems wrong.”

Loki stood, smoothing out his coat with a huffed laugh. “You’re talking to a man who has been politely described as a narcissistic megalomaniac. The only things I’ve ever really wanted were for myself. I learned that lesson young.” He looked Steve right in the eyes. “If you don’t want it for yourself, whatever ‘it’ is, no one else will want it for you.” Something sad fell behind Loki’s eyes though his face didn’t change. “No one will just give you what your heart desires, not when you’re giving them what they need. They’re thinking about themselves, not you. Sometimes, you have to just take it.”

The revelation settled like a rock in the pit of Steve’s stomach. He didn’t want to believe it, but somehow it felt right. ‘Captain America’ served a purpose. He filled a hole that needed filling by someone and as long as he was there, they were going to take advantage of that.

He didn’t need to take over the world, as Loki had attempted, but he needed to take what he deserved before there was nothing left to have.

Before there was nothing left of him to enjoy it.

~*~

With each step through the Lehigh base he kept thinking one thought: this is too easy.

There were less guards, less people, than when he’d been here last, and theoretically, if he’d done things right, that should only have been less than a few minutes ago. He tried not to dwell on the knot settling in the base of his stomach as he swiftly moved to put back the tesseract.

He almost had it slid in nice and tight when the voice came over his shoulder. “Jarvis said he saw you. I thought the man was nuts, but he refused to leave.”

Steve let his head fall, his hands on the edge of the glowing box. “Howard…”

“I didn’t tell anyone, just cleared out the base.” Steve heard the soft footsteps as his former friend joined him. “Said I needed to run a dangerous experiment.”

Steve turned, taking in the tight and so much older face of his friend, unsure of what to say. Howard shoved his hands in his pockets but just continued. “I mean, I wasn’t exactly sure you’d come back, or if Jarvis had ever really seen you in the first place, but here you are, putting back something you stole from me. Without even a hello?” Howard laughed darkly, pointing at his suit. “You get tired of the red white and blue, or are you serving another nation now?”

Steve pressed his hands to his own chest, his head falling down and his eyes squeezing tight. “It’s a long, complicated story, Howard. And I don’t know how much I can really say.”

Howard shook his head, disappointed. “Can you tell me who that man was with you? The one who couldn’t even remember his own name?”

Steve couldn’t look at him, pain coursing through him at the loss of his friend. “No.”

Howard waited until Steve looked at him, cutting him close with the hurt in his voice, “Can you tell me why you never told me you were alive?”

Steve nodded. “That much I do owe you.”

Howard bobbed his head, really taking in the appearance of his friend for the first time. His eyes went wide as he looked at Steve and found the things he tried to not see before: the new lines along his eyes, the tightness of his jaw, the way the lines around his mouth had deepened that all signaled not only was this not a social call, but the man was not all that well. “Ok, well, I’ve got a bottle of scotch in my desk, that’ll have to suffice for me.” He tipped his head, “Let’s go.”

The hallways were deserted, and Steve lingered his eyes just a second too long on Peggy’s door, which had only blackness behind it.

Howard noticed. “I sent her home, too. She doesn’t know why and I’ll catch hell for it tomorrow.”

Steve didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing. A few more steps and they were settled in Howards office, Steve on the almost comfortable chair across from Howard as he sat behind his desk, pouring out two tumblers of scotch. “So, can you tell me how I managed to look for you for years and here you are, waltzing into my facility and stealing the tesseract?” He lifted the glass to his lips, taking a hearty gulp. “Though, since you were putting it back, I guess you were just borrowing.”

Steve took the other tumbler from the table, holding it in his hands but not drinking. “I’m honestly not sure what I can or can’t say that doesn’t risk changing things.” Steve stopped, took a deep breath, and leaned forward. “But what the hell, right? If anyone’s going to understand this… will understand how important it is, it’s you, right?”

Howard shrugged, leaning back in his chair, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “There’s a good chance I’m your guy.”

Steve took a second, eyes lost in the whiskey. It wouldn’t do anything, but the idea of it somehow gave him courage all the more. He drank it like a shot, swallowing and putting his glass on the desk. “I’m not even sure where to start.”

Howard set his elbows on the desk, leaning over it, intensely curious. “How about at the beginning… How did you walk away from that plane crash? We looked for you for-“

“I didn’t,” Steve interrupted, solemn. “I spent almost 70 years in the ice.”

Howard sat up straight. “But you’re…”

Steve couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or cry. “I told you it was a long story.”

“That’s why you’re worried about changing things.” He leaned forward, hands in fists. “You managed to time travel?” Howard shook his head, his eyes glazing over as he thought. “Is that like a… normal thing in the future?”

���No,” Steve replied right away. “It was a last desperate attempt to…” he took a deep breath. “A lot of people had died, half of…” He took another breath, not really sure how to explain it all. “It was more than just our world at stake.”

Howard pushed back, eyes wide. “Other…planets?”

Steve smiled and nodded. “Yeah. The future was… interesting.”

Howard reached over and lifted the bottle of scotch, the liquid only half filling it. “We might need more than this…”

Steve laughed, really laughed, for the first time in months. “For this story? Yeah.”

~*~

An hour later Howard was pacing the length of his office, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled from running his hands through it, and half a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. “You weren’t kidding.”

“No. It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” Howard laughed and leaned back against his desk. “It’s a fucking mess is what it is.” Howard turned and put both hands on his desk. “I can’t believe it actually fucking worked.”

Steve felt guilty. He hadn’t mentioned Pym, not knowing exactly how the two were relating at the moment. He hadn’t named Tony, either, just called him ‘an inventor’ and later Iron Man and gave no indication to his friend that his son would end up dying to save humanity. But there were some things he wasn’t ready to risk ruining, some things he couldn’t quite yet face. “That’s… not the worst part.”

Howard turned his head, his eyebrows at his hairline as he looked at his friend. “There’s more?”

Steve looked at his folded hands, feeling guilty. “I want to stay.”

“Is that inherently a problem?” Howard searched his face, hoping for some hint. “You are, technically, more from this time than you are that one.”

“I… don’t know.” He sighed. “I was hoping you would.”

Howard sank in his chair, kicking his feet up on the desk. “Like, if you stay, you become your own grandfather or something like that?”

“Well… not quite, but yeah.” Steve’s teeth were set on edge. Of all the people he knew, of all the people he’d asked about this, Howard would be the one to give it to him straight.

Howard tented his fingers, eyes un-focusing as he thought about the problem.

The phone rang and Howard ignored it, looking at his friend. After five shrill rings he lifted the receiver and slammed it back down, silencing it. “What did… what did the scientists who were helping you say about—” He was cut off again as the phone rang once more.  With a sigh Howard put it on speaker. “Hello?”

Jarvis’ anxious voice filled the room, startling Steve. “I’m sorry sir, but I couldn’t stop her without risking serious bodily harm.”

Howard’s face soured, “Stop who?”

The door behind Steve crashed open. “Howard you bloody wanker this is absolutely ridiculous. You ship me off for no reason when I have serious work to do. You’re not even doing an experiment are you? No, you’re drinking and—"

It was when she looked down that she got her first glimpse of him, and it ripped the words from her mouth.

He stood, slowly, and tried to smile, even though he could feel his heart beating hard in his chest. “Hi, Peg.”

Her breath caught and her mouth opened and closed for a moment before the only thing she could think to say fell from her lips. “You’re late.”

~*~

End Notes: To keep track, here are the five times: 1. Wanda 2. Pym/Bruce (Yes, they count as one, sue me) 3. The Ancient One 4. Loki 5. Howard. And the one time he didn’t was Red Skull. I don’t write this trope that often, so… yeah.

This was all written LONG before Loki came out. Just in light of all the silliness going around I felt like I needed to post, and hopefully some of you needed to read it.

Let’s keep fandom happy and enjoyable, friends.

[jamespotterthefirst]

Lovely (Ethan x F!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2,100+ Warning: Adult language Premise: Adding her on social media was a dangerous mistake. Particularly when she posts a picture looking like that. Tags: @openheart12​ | @ethandaddyramsey​ | @noboundariesplease​ | @silverlitskies​ | 

___________________________

“Post, post, post!” her roommates chanted with alcohol fueled enthusiasm. 

Lilac, the least drunk of the group, though not by a lot, peered at her friends quizzically. They were sprawled on different parts of their living room, gazing at her with glazed eyes and sloppy smiles. In her own drunken state, she wondered how the night turned from board games and drinks to Lilac spilling her guts about Ethan following her on social media. Of course, she had left out his name and so her roommates only surmised it was some new flame she was interested in. 

God, she wanted him with such desperation that it physically hurt sometimes. If she hadn't had several drinks, she'd feel miserable and somewhat pathetic.

“You guys don't even know who this guy is,” Lilac returned and she realized immediately that was not entirely true. As the words left her mouth, Sienna and Elijah shared a massive, knowing grin. Lilac's face flushed at the memory of running into them while trying to sneak Ethan out all those months ago. 

Luckily, Aurora and Jackie were too drunk to notice the exchange. 

“It's that Lahela guy, isn't it?” Aurora offered. 

“Not likely,” returned Jackie at once. “Lilac said this guy was good-looking and smart.” She instantly wrinkled her nose, looking far more dejected than was warranted. “It's a lot more fun when he's here to hear me insult him.”

“That one was weak,” Elijah commented with a laugh, elongating the last word. “If he was here, he would've destroyed you with a comeback.”

Before Jackie could reply, Sienna leaped up from her place on the rug and plopped down next to Lilac on the couch. “I know what picture you should post,” she exclaimed excitedly, brandishing her phone in front of Lilac's face. A blur of green was all she could see as Sienna waved the phone. “Remember that green dress you bought for your cousin's wedding before they called it off?”

“Let's talk about that for a second,” Aurora said with renewed interest. 

Sienna didn't seem to hear this because she went on, “The one with the neckline and the slit?” 

Lilac remembered. She also remembered the picture she had sent Sienna to show it off. Lilac standing in front of a body-length mirror clad in the forest green number, phone strategically positioned to cover her face so the emphasis would be on the plunging neckline and on the shapely leg escaping from the slit. 

“That dress could kill a man,” Sienna said approvingly as they both inspected the picture on her screen. “It's equal parts classy and also—” 

“Slutty?” Lilac offered. It was how she described her style on most days and she was far from ashamed of it. 

“If he wasn't in such great shape, you'd give the poor man a heart attack. I'm sure Eth—” she started but abruptly stopped when she remembered the others. One nervous glance around told Lilac they were not listening anyway. They were busy filling Aurora in on the drama of the canceled wedding. Sienna lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “I'm sure your mystery guy will love it. He was all over you when you wore that navy blue dress in Miami.” 

Perhaps it was the memory of that night and his kisses on the balcony, or the alcohol coursing through her, or maybe the way her heart pined for him every time their eyes met, wishing desperately they could do more, that made Lilac say, “Fine, I'll post a—”

“Thirst trap,” Elijah chimed in with a cheer. 

They all laughed out loud, even Lilac. Another indicative that they should really stop drinking for the night. The semi rational part of her brain reminded her that she should've stopped drinking when posting a provocative picture with the most basic pose imaginable in hopes of entrapping a man that might not even be watching seemed like a good idea. 

With a burst of courage and recklessness, Lilac found the picture, wrote a ridiculous caption that would make her hungover self tomorrow morning cringe, and pressed "post" before they could spend another twenty minutes discussing her predicament and before the chanting resumed.

_________________________________________________

The account was supposed to be strictly for a one-time use. Ethan had planned to delete the damned thing as soon as Gwyneth's case had been solved and treated. Wasn't that part of the reason why he had allowed Lilac to use that ridiculous picture of him at the beach? It was meant to be a gag, something that would never see the light of day. 

Yet, he had found himself gravitating towards the tab left open on his laptop every time he used it. His subconscious had equated the inane website with learning more about Lilac. And despite his many attempts to convince himself that he shouldn’t care, he did. She was the only person he had ever wanted to learn more about, with such a desperate conviction that would be alarming to her if he ever confessed. 

He cared so deeply that the word “care” did not properly describe the unbridled longing in his chest. One did not flee to the Amazon for two months to escape “care.”  

Ethan pushed that dangerous thought away. 

“Thirty minutes, Ethan,” Reggie said from the doorway to the bar. It was his usual way to inform him how long it’d take him to clean-up and thus the amount of time Ethan had left to enjoy his drink in blissful solitude. 

He was alone, typically how he enjoyed drinking, yet he found no peace. Memories of the last time he was at that very beer garden with her accosted his thoughts. The way her bright green eyes looked startling in the golden lights floating all around and the feel of her soft lips on his. 

Before he could stop himself, he pulled out his phone and opened the app. His weakness was such that he had figured out how to download the damn app on his phone. It was almost comical that now he could look at her whenever and however long he wanted on a screen, as if she wasn't inhabiting his mind at every hour. 

Ethan was determined to find his favorite post, a picture of her at that very bar, taken a few months ago by her friend, Dr. Trinh. Before he could, however, his eye caught a notification from the app itself.

“Pictagram: dr.allende just shared a new post.” 

It was time stamped one hour ago. Ethan briefly commended himself on going a whole hour without staring at her face like the pitiful stalker he was becoming. Before he could feel ashamed and pathetic, he opened her new post and almost choked on his drink.

“Fuck,” he murmured into the quiet night, setting his glass down on a side table nearby. Without realizing it, he sat much straighter on the outdoor sofa. 

His eyes desperately roamed every inch of the image, unsure where to settle. There was the expanse of her exposed leg, or the dangerously plunging neckline of her dress, the casual sway of her hip. His hands had clutched on to those hips, fingers digging slightly into her skin as they both lost themselves to unmitigated pleasure.

It was downright criminal how good she looked in the picture, exposing enough to drive a man insane but not enough to be crass. Apparently, he was not the only one to think so. In the mere hour the picture had been up, it had already accrued 220 of those "likes" Lilac had explained. 

Ethan continued to stare at the picture like a starved man. It took everything in his power not to call her and somehow convince her to take him back, his morals and conviction be damned. That was the power Dr. Lilac Allende and her green dress wielded over him. 

The distant clanging of bottles startled him out his thoughts so abruptly that Ethan almost dropped his phone. He caught it quite unceremoniously and as he turned the screen back to him, he noticed a red heart animation appearing and disappearing in the middle of her picture. 

"Shit," he muttered when he realized he, too, like the 220 others had "liked" the picture. Upon further inspection, he realized he had even accidentally commented the single letter "I". 

A bit frantic, he tapped at his phone to figure out a way to get rid of the damn thing. He could not bear Lilac learning he leered at her picture at 1 AM and was so affected he could barely type a coherent sentence. Even if that was a hundred percent true. Ethan was getting nowhere, except to an early grave, when a text message notification came in. 

“Like what you see?”

It was Lilac.

 Goddammit, she had seen. 

Ethan considered not replying. Yet, even as he entertained the thought, he knew he couldn't resist. 

“Along with 220 others,” he replied before he could stop himself. He realized belatedly that the real count was 220 others plus Bryce Lahela (scalpellahela). 

“Those 220 others can look all they want but they can't touch,” was her immediate response. 

His breath caught a little. The power she had over him was astounding. 

“But you can,” she added when he did not respond. 

God almighty. She was determined to kill him. 

A few minutes ticked by and his phone buzzed with an incoming call. When he started the call, he was greeted by what sounded like distant wolf whistles, followed by the sound of a door closing. 

“You okay over there?” she asked by form of greeting. Her voice was teasing in a way that was absolutely maddening. 

“Fine,” Ethan replied in what he hoped was a convincing, leveled voice. 

“Where are you anyway?” She spoke in a sultry sort of drawl that did nothing to placate his traitorous body's reaction to her photo. 

“Donahue's. Finishing up my drink,” he replied, eyeing his forgotten scotch on the table where he had set it. “Anyway, sorry if I awoke you. I accidentally liked and commented.”

“Accidentally,” she repeated in a tone that suggested she did not believe him. “So you don't like my dress and you're not at a loss for words?” 

“I never said that,” he returned at once. “You look…”

What was a professional way of saying “fucking irresistible” or “like I want to peel that dress off with my teeth”? 

“Good,” he said lamely, though his strangled voice suggested far more. She picked up on that, of course. 

“And what are you going to do about that?” she asked in a deliberately innocent whisper. 

“Lilac,” he warned, as he always did when their conversation veered towards volatile territory. 

“There's nothing wrong with just telling me, Ethan,” she offered and he could have sworn she sounded almost pleading.  

He did not argue, as he usually did. Mostly because another intellectual argument with her, in addition to the photo and the way she all but purred in his ear,  would allow his desire for her to win. He'd be on his way to her bed in moments. 

“Tell me,” she prompted again. 

With a sigh, he gave in. 

“That dress is...”

“Yes?” 

“Sinful.”

There was a small pause at the other end of the line. 

“Should I wear it out?”

“Absolutely,” he returned, completely enraptured by the direction this was all heading. He could feel his inhibitions vanish.

“Where to?” 

“My bed.”

She did not miss a beat. 

“Ideally, I'd be out of the dress for that, then,” she returned in that sexy drawl of hers. Ethan was astounded he was not in the car, speeding to her apartment at that very moment. 

“Fuck, Lilac,” he murmured. 

“So you can do that, yes,” she responded in a whisper so low that he almost didn’t catch it.

He said nothing, fearing he would sound like an incomprehensible imbecile if he did. 

A long silence, and then, “Ethan?”

“Yes?”

He heard her suck in a breath, almost as if mustering up courage. “I miss you.” 

There was an unbearable tugging at his chest. He never had her courage, but now that she had laid it out for him, he couldn’t resist admitting the same. “You know I do too.” 

Another small silence. 

“Come over,” she said at last and he could hear the tones of humor in her voice. Almost as if she knew what he was going to say. Perhaps she did know. The brief illusion in which they saw each other as lovers and not colleagues, had inevitably come to an end. As it always did. 

He laughed good-naturedly. “Go to sleep.”

“With you?”

Despite himself, he grinned. He knew at the other end, she would be too. 

“Good night, Lilac.” 

“Good night, Ethan.”

___________________________________

Click Here for Part 2

___________________________________

A/N: Ah, these two will have to sleep together sooner than later. 

THANK YOU so much if you read this silly, pointless thing! 

Masterlist

P.S. I made that Instagram post Ethan loves of MC at Donahue’s but didn’t put it in the story. LOL, I love the idea of him stalking her posts. That man is so in love.

Anyway, here it is, just for fun: 

[jetaime-jespere]

Various Storms and Saints

Narcos - Javier Peña / Helena

At first Javier thinks he imagines her, as if she’s nothing more than a figment of his own weary mind, a byproduct of the years that run together like a painting that’s gotten wet, colors running together, edges curling at the sides.

I am ridiculously nervous about posting this, as I have written solely Hotchniss/CM for over a year and never thought about writing anything else, let alone Narcos of all the things. But, this somehow solidified itself in my head over the last few weeks (there is a nearly complete chapter two as well) and here we are. These two deserved so much better than what they got in the show. There are some trigger warnings for references to and mentions of past assault and trauma with this story, consistent with what happened in s1e2, along with angst/references to drug use and violence. This is actually posted on ao3 under a different username but I might transfer it to my main ao3 account at some point. The first chapter is under the cut! 🙂

At first Javier thinks he imagines her, as if she’s nothing more than a figment of his own weary mind, a byproduct of the years that run together like a painting that’s gotten wet, colors running together, edges curling at the sides. He always expected the past to catch up to him, somehow, yet she is the very last thing he expects to see in the middle of a farmer’s market just outside of Laredo on an unnaturally chilly November Saturday morning. This is south Texas, for fuck’s sake, he thinks. His head still throbs with the lingering haze of too much whiskey, as if such a thing could exist by now, and the cool air does nothing except make him feel even more numb. He was never expecting her.

Helena.

Why he’s even here is lost on him - a favor to his father, one he remembered at the last possible moment when he’d awoken that morning with a splitting headache. His mouth was dry, his stomach churning as the sun bled into the sky, the empty bottle and an ashtray littered with cigarettes not far away. But he went, because he’s watched his father age before his own two eyes, knowing innately the small act in and of itself will save the aging man a bit of his much-needed strength for later on. Javier meanders aisles with the same sharp eye of his father to find the best produce hidden while hiding bloodshot eyes behind his aviators.

He’s lost in his own thoughts - the trancelike state he often falls into when he thinks of how things panned out - right back to where he started all those years ago. How close he got to Escobar, at the expense of so much, only to not actually get there at all. The phone call from Murphy, relaying the news of the shootout and his death, plays on loop in his mind, coupled with the endless droll of the smoky bar, the plague of relief and satisfaction and a hint of jealousy, a tightening in his chest he wasn’t sure what to do with. He still doesn’t know what to do with it all - his life or lack thereof.

“Excuse me,” comes the soft, raspy voice from the much shorter person beside him reaching around for tomatoes. It renders him frozen; it takes him right back to Bogota, to the confined four walls of his apartment, a sanctuary in the middle of a fiery hell. A voice Javier was never able to forget. The voice in his dreams and his nightmares, even if the latter was more frequent. The voice that brings a memory of her, wrapped around him, or vice versa. Those images are vivid - laying her back on his leather couch to savor the last few moments inside of her, his teeth scraping her chin as tremors ran through her, a blissful smile on her face. The brace of her knees against his hips as she sat in his lap, full of him, his hands guiding her hips as she rocked over him, her fingers digging into his hair in the hours he spent between her legs, coaxing release after release out of her.

Your hands, she’d said once, her Colombian accent thick in the hazy, smoky dark of his apartment. He knew what she was thinking. How could hands like his - ones that touched her tenderly, reverently - wield a gun with exact precision, be responsible for the deaths of so many. How do you do it? She’d asked once, cradling his right hand in her own much smaller ones. He didn’t have an answer, he just passed his flask and reached for his wallet. He never asked where the money went, just that she took it. Only when he was in way too deep did he realize he didn’t care about the money. And only after she was gone did he admit to himself he never actually cared about it at all.

It can’t be. “Helena?”

He turns a little, shuffles his feet. And there she is, not at all imagined but in fact very real, close enough to touch. There’s an audible gasp that comes from her, one of her small hands clamping over her mouth as the other tightens around the seam of her jacket. It’s because she recognizes him immediately, as she tilts her head back to meet his stare, the sun reflecting on her dark brown hair like a halo.

It’s been years, he’s lost track of exactly how long. Years to bury that night in Medellín that has never gone away. But it managed to haunt him forever. They’d been moments too late. If only, he thinks a lot. If only he said no, if he refused to put her in harm’s way. If only they’d been faster. He could have saved her from the hell he’d found her in, from what came after. It’s her face he saw with every arrest he made, every step they took closer to Escobar, as if each was somehow done for her, revenge for what she endured, not for the good of a nation under siege.

But there she is, in Texas of all places, mere miles from where he’s essentially started his own life over, clearly having done the same. She was right there all along, a woman he once knew and yet, doesn’t anymore. Gone are the impractical shoes and heavy makeup, the confidence she exuded even with the dangers of her profession withered away. He always admired her for that confidence - he never told her as much, though. She’s wearing a casual jacket and jeans, simple shoes and barely a stitch of makeup. Her hair is a little shorter and lighter; it looks different but he can’t figure out why. He never paid much attention to those things. He’d always liked this Helena better - without the painted facade of lies she concocted to stay alive. He never told her that either. There were a lot of things he never said, things he should have told her long before it ended.

“Javier.” It’s slow, drawn out, as if she’s learning how to pronounce it for the first time. “It’s … what are you …-” she stumbles over a greeting as her head starts to spin, not unlike his own. She’s clearly overwhelmed by it all. She swallows hard, takes a few wary glances around. “You’re .... how?”

“I live here, remember?” He immediately regrets it; maybe she doesn’t want to remember any of it. So he backpedals, lowering his sunglasses to offer a kind smile. “My family is from Laredo.” He’d told her some things about himself during the times they were together. Not much, but he’d found himself asking her things - seeking more, something they could never have, yet he sought nonetheless.

“I remember.” She studies him, the weight of her gaze familiar, taking in the lines that have deepened in his face. They mirror the ones on her own, the culmination of it all having taken a toll over time. “You’re not there?” She means Colombia, he realizes. She’s asking why he’s not in Colombia.

“I live here now too.” His tone answers her question more than his words do. “Have for a little while now. I had no idea you were in Laredo.” It seems too close for comfort; he would have demanded she be further away from the border, for her own protection. Those details hadn’t been shared with him. He hadn’t asked.

“Maybe conduct this little reunion somewhere else?” An older woman clears her throat, arms crossed over her chest, clearing her throat to make her presence known behind them. “Some of us are trying to … you know. Keep things moving around here?” She means no ill will, yet it’s as if they’ve been caught doing something they shouldn’t, as if everyone in their vicinity is watching.

It’s the way Helena startles at the woman’s sudden intrusion that splinters his chest a little bit as a quick apology falling from her lips. The subtle tremble that racks her shoulders for a brief moment before she steps away, granting the other woman access to the tomatoes they’ve both forgotten all about. As they walk away he wonders, before he can stop himself, just how much she’s struggled, how unbearable it must have been to start over as she had, after what she’d endured. He has hard questions that undoubtedly have no easy answers.

A few steps from the aisles is a tree, providing reprieve from the early morning sun. They find themselves there; he leans against the tree and tucks his sunglasses into his shirt pocket. Helena keeps her distance, an arm’s length away, arms crossed protectively over her chest. Whether it’s subconscious or not, it deepens the crack in his chest that being in his proximity might make her uneasy. But they’re out of earshot of others now, and Helena speaks again, choosing words carefully. She’s guarded, cautiously aware of her surroundings, he notices - constantly looking over her shoulder, nervously toying with the ends of her hair.

“I’ve been here since I left Colombia.” She pushes her hair off her neck, drags her finger along the row of tiny hoop earrings at her ear. “We, I mean.”

She means her son. Hearing that he’s safe too is a relief. “How is he?”

“Good.” The mention of him brings a smile to her face; it’s been so long since he saw her smile. Something inside of him aches when he sees it, like he doesn’t deserve to. Javier remembers the way she beamed with pride when she’d told him one night that he called her mama for the first time, the guilt in her eyes when she explained the little boy stayed with her sister when she worked. He’d be at least 5 now, he reckons. “He’s good.”

“And you?” What he’s asking is a loaded question. He isn’t owed an answer though. His culpability in it all can’t be denied; he pushed it for information, to get closer to Escobar and she agreed because she believed it would be her out, that he would follow through on his promise of getting her to the US.

In some cruelly fucked up way, she got her wish in the end.

“I’m okay.” Good seems too generous of a description, and anything less than okay would shatter him, Helena knows. Despite the transactional nature of their relationship, it eventually morphed into something more, something that, had the circumstances been different, could have worked, maybe. It takes more effort to smile this time but she does, even though she knows he’ll see right through it. Her last memory of him isn’t a pleasant one; thinking of it makes her vision blur and her hands tremble with the moist rush of bile in her throat. He’d carried her from that disgusting warehouse, doing his best to calm her down and failing miserably. She clung to him, trembling and shell shocked silent, only to become hysterical once outside in the cloyingly oppressive Medellín heat. It was his face she saw when she felt the pinch of a needle in her arm and a heaviness in her veins, an apology written all over it. It was the very last thing she remembers before the sedative took effect and the world went black.

When she woke up more than twelve hours later in a narrow bed at a hospital, she was alone. Alone as she had always been, except this time it set into her bones and never quite left.

“That’s good.” He doesn’t believe her. How could he? She’s lost weight since then - she’d always been slender with delicate bones and narrow wrists - once he remarked how he could fit both of them in the span of one of his hands, then did just that as she writhed beneath him - but now she’s more borderline gaunt, with sharp collar bones and sunken in cheeks. “Good.”

“You?” Helena twists the cuff of her sleeve around her wrist, a nervous habit. She didn’t expect it to physically ache when she looked at him, but she never expected to see him again, either.

“Good.” Javier fumbles in his jacket pocket in search of a cigarette. The pack is empty; he curses. There’s a thick silence, full of everything that isn’t said, what never got to be said. Maybe had he been fucking honest with her none of this would have happened. “God, Helena, we used to be better at this.”

Her eyes well with unshed tears. She thought by now she would have run out of tears by now. “We had more practice then, Javier.” The expression that ghosts over her face is wistful with remembrance for that night, the night that started all of this. When they played their hand so horribly wrong. “Remember?”

He remembers it all, every last detail. It seems like a strange twist of irony that they ended up in the same place after all this time. He’s too jaded to think it could possibly be fate, something that was meant to happen all along.

But then what was it?

[kingonafiftymetreroad]

Fic Rec Post

Hey everybody! One of my secret santas asked me what my favorite fics are so I decided to make a full blown rec post just for them. These are a little all over the place so I hope you can find something that you enjoy here! ☁️✨ 

Please make sure to read all tags and warnings before reading a fic. And don’t forget to kudos/comment!

🌙 The Finish Line (Is A Good Place For Us To Start) by LoadedGunn 122k

Louis Tomlinson, one-time Formula 1 World Champion, is looking forward to the 2013 season. He’s got Zayn in his garage and Liam in his ear, he’s got Cowell Racing backing him despite former indiscretions, he’s got experience and the best race car out there. Not to mention he’s the only racer they have, after Oliver dropped out late last year.

It hasn’t occurred to him that Oliver would have to be replaced by February. That is, until he finds himself at a party celebrating Harry Styles leaving Ferrari for Cowell. Harry hotshot Styles, who broke a record last year and is probably looking to make a big splash. Harry Styles, who is talented and somewhat intimidating. Harry Styles, who left Ferrari for reasons unknown and seems kind of lonely and harmless in person. Lonely, harmless, hot as fuck. Whatever.

The first thing Louis does is take him under his wing. From there it’s nine months of slow-burning romance, the past catching up to them, turning into the human puppy pile that is OT5 and a lot of feelings until, of course, reaching the finish line.

🌙 a promise lives within you now by sarcasticfluentry 46k

A Lord of the Rings-inspired Middle Earth AU. Louis is an Elven prince, next in line to become King of Mirkwood, and Harry is the orphaned Human boy who grows up alongside him. They fall in love, but Louis’s obligations to the throne, Harry’s mortality, and impending war threaten to tear them apart.

🌙 if you're for real and not pretend by brownheadedstranger 21k

In which Harry works in a bakery and Louis can't seem to find what he's looking for.

🌙 Into The Blue by zarah5 117k (story is locked, ao3 account required to read)

AU. In which Louis is Harry's scuba instructor and quite happy to provide the requested special treatment, pun fully intended. It can't be all that difficult to convince Harry that they're on the same page, right? Also, Niall and Liam may or may not be dating, and Zayn is surrounded by emotionally stunted idiots. He bears it with dignity.

🌙 Don't Unplug Me Or Shut Me Down by slashter 7k

Louis scowls. "He's a photography student. He works with gorgeous models and probably breaks hearts with his smile. I'm a nerd. I earn my money fixing broken crap, and for some stupid reason, I like it. He wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts, he's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers, et cetera, et cetera." Louis sighs. "I swear, the coolest thing I've ever done is wear contacts."

Basically, Louis is a self-proclaimed nerd who fixes things and Harry seems too perfect to keep breaking as many things as he does.

🌙 You Are The Blood by sarcasticfluentry 175k

A seventh-year Hogwarts AU in which Niall gets all the girls, Liam goes on a journey of self-discovery, Zayn falls in love, Harry wants something more, and Louis tries to figure out once and for all why he, a Muggleborn, was sorted into Slytherin.

🌙 this must be what all the fuss is about by youcomecrash 3k

"You're sweaty," he mumbles matter-of-factly. Louis opens his eyes and raises his head from between his arms. Harry's just staring up at him with a lazy expression and Louis kind of wants to kiss him to sleep. "That's because it's a hundred degrees in here, babe."

🌙 I Fell From the Sky For You (Like a Shooting Star) [by louserz] by waddupjordan (orphan_account) 8k (This was originally posted on tumblr by @louserz and this person had permission to post it on ao3 for the author. if the original author sees this and wants me to take this off of my rec post please DM me and I will. This fic displays elements of depression and homelessness although it is not tagged that way so please take caution in reading this. I don’t want to accidentally trigger anybody.<3)

Harry owns a bookstore, Louis is homeless, and apparently even shooting stars fall in love.

🌙 Sail Across Me by iwillpaintasongforlou 21k

Harry is a prince that is about to be forced into marriage against his will and running away to sea seems like a much better option. Louis is the captain of the infamous pirate ship The Rogue and he has a thing for helping defenseless creatures. Especially when they're as pretty as this one.

🌙 but maybe im just in love when you wake me up by theonewiththelarrystories 6k

lazy morning sex, prompted by Asher: "like a whole sleepy sunday morning vibe of waking up together and then louis pulling a sleepy harry into a warm bath and louis washing harry all over. a bit of body!worship, louis gently working conditioner into harrys curls and him practically purring. Then louis taking it slow with kisses on harrys neck and gentle touches and then fingering harry until hes whining with his head thrown back against louis’ shoulder little needy noises coming from his perfect fucking lips. and then harrys boneless and content while louis leads him back to their bed and spreads him out face down and rims the fuck out of him until hes screaming and then he fucks him gently and then they cuddle on the couch and harry wears louis’ white sweater and louis calls him ‘sweetheart.’"

🌙 strawberry milk fic by Wankerville 158k (3 parts)

This is a 3 part story. The 1st part was originally written alone and then the author added the rest. You can just read the 1st part (19k), and you’ll still be satisfied without feeling added pressured to read the whole thing. Please read all the tags and warnings for each fic beforehand!

🌙 and we live like legends now by soleilouis 16k girl!direction 

harry works at a juice bar, and louis is the cute girl that skates at the park right next door.

🌙 Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore 102k (story is locked, ao3 account required to read) @mediawhorefics​

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

🌙 jump in the deep end by istajmaal 5k 

Louis’s stomach lurches as he closes the last bit of distance, Harry’s nose settling between his arse cheeks and pushing them apart. Harry’s lips brush against the puckered skin around Louis’s hole in a kiss and Louis lets out a whine so high-pitched he barely recognizes it as coming from himself—what if I'm not clean enough, what if Harry hates it, what if Harry pushes me away—but then Harry’s long, wet tongue swoops in a circle around Louis’s rim and Louis feels like all the breath is knocked out of him. He grabs for Harry’s hand, still digging into his thigh, and squeezes over it, until Harry releases his vice grip on Louis’s thigh and laces his fingers through Louis’s.

or, Louis's arse is a sensitive subject, so Harry approaches it gently. With his tongue.

🌙 the wheel breaks the butterfly by embodied 4k girl!direction @aliensingucci​

“Out with it, Styles,” Louis groans. Harry’s suddenly regretting this whole thing, and she’s sure she’s beet red now, so she just blurts it out so fast she’s not sure if Louis even understands her right away.

“I’ve never gotten head before.”

AU. harry and louis are roommates. girls' night ends a little differently than usual.

🌙 you flower, you feast by stylinsoncity 18k

He's King of the Underworld, but don't assume Louis has it all. He could stand for some excitement in his monotonous, eternal life and maybe, even.....a soulmate.

(Despite not having a soul.)

And along came "Harry".

🌙 you change, water sea by got2ghost 4k girl!direction (ziam with side larry)

“Zayn wants me to teach her how to make a girl squirt,” Louis says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. Liam chokes on the water she’d been swigging from her thermos, which makes Louis throw her head back and laugh. Zayn’s brows pinch together and she pats Liam gently on the shoulder, muttering, ‘you okay babes?’

🌙 The Case Of The (Definitely Not Haunted) Styles Mansion by BriaMaria 40k

“So there’s a sense of humor buried beneath all that condescension, huh?” Louis said when he’d stopped laughing.

“It’s not condescension, it’s intelligence. I understand you might not be able to recognize it yourself,” Marcel said, then slapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh god, I’m sorry.”

Louis stepped closer, his eyes on Marcel’s face. “For being an asshat?”

“For being rude,” Marcel said, from beneath his palm.

Louis shifted a half-step closer until he was at the very edge of Marcel’s personal space. It felt like he was nudging at it, asking to be let in. Marcel flushed hot for no reason.

“Lucky for you it takes quite a lot to actually insult me,” Louis said taking one step closer. Too close. Too close.

Marcel met Louis’ eyes. Those blue eyes that reminded Marcel of poetry instead of science, lyrics instead of formulas. They were so pretty he wanted to drown in them.

---

Or the Nancy Drew AU where Marcel is a man of logic, Louis is a private detective who believes in ghosts, and the Styles Mansion is definitely, absolutely, positively *not* haunted.

🌙 You are the Lyrics by TheIfInLife 4k @larryficwriter​

or, Harry wears lingerie for the first time and Louis definitely approves.

🌙 Wild at Heart Ain't Hard to Find by QuickedWeen 11k girl!direction @becomeawendybird

Louis and her best friends Niall and Liam always take an annual vacation together. This year Niall has picked Redwater Canyon, a small tourist town where everyone lives like it's the Old West. There are saloons, stagecoaches, and limited access to WiFi.

The town boasts tours, excursions, activities, and the hottest woman Louis has ever seen in the form of the local blacksmith.

🌙 Withdrawal Was the Weeping by QuickedWeen 11k girl!direction

Confined by life and society, Harry spends her Sunday afternoons walking aimlessly about the countryside as it's her only source of freedom. One Sunday she is aided by the most beautiful woman she has ever met, but not everything is as it seems. Was it a trick of the light? Was it Harry's own active imagination? There is nothing to do but try to find her again.

🌙 i must admit i thought i'd like to make you mine by disgruntledkittenface 50k @disgruntledkittenface​

Louis fell apart when her ex broke up with her and moved across the country. Just as she’s starting to move on, Zayn comes back to town for their mutual friends’ wedding – with a new girlfriend as her plus one.

Blindsided and scrambling to save face, Louis lets herself get talked into a fake relationship with her new friend Harry. Their arrangement makes Louis feel pathetic and embarrassed, but it’s only going to last a few weeks. She just has to get through the wedding – what could happen?

🌙 tempted by the fruit of another by disgruntledkittenface 3k (zayn/louis/harry)

Zayn didn’t mean to look. And she certainly didn’t mean to watch.

It’s just that Louis and Harry are the worst hosts in the world; they’re in their bedroom, clearly fucking (again), and so loud that Zayn can’t concentrate on her game of Among Us in the living room. Liam has killed her twice. Liam. So she just went down the hallway to make sure their bedroom door was at least closed.

It wasn’t.

Zayn stumbles into a world of possibility when she stays with Harry and Louis for a few weeks.

🌙 I have more favorite fics but they are not included here due to them being deleted from ao3. They’re saved in PDF form both on my laptop and my phone (I go back and read them all the time) so if you’re interested in those you’re welcome to reach out to me and ask privately and I’ll share what I can.

This turned out a lot longer than I had expected. If you read through the whole thing thank you! ✨

[adenei]

Finding My Way To You - Ch. 6

A/N: I know I’ve had several asks in my box over the past few weeks asking for Ron & Hermione’s second kiss. Well, here’s another version of their second kiss in this chapter in case you were one of the requesting anons. Enjoy!

2nd a/n:  Some of you may have noticed I posted this earlier this week. I wasn’t happy with the original version of it, so I made some additions and edits to the chapter, and I'm much happier with the revamped version. I hope you'll give it another re-read if you've already seen it to catch some of the changes I've made, and as always, thanks so much for taking the time to read my stories!

*********************

Only You

Hermione stared at the door as it closed behind Ron. She looked at her parents. “But, Mum, I didn’t- I don’t-” 

“Don’t what, sweetheart? Don’t want Ron to go? Well, clearly, he’s let you down again. Maybe you’re better-” her mother tried to finish her sentence.

“No.” Hermione said. 

“Then, what is it, Hermione?” Her mother pressed.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Hermione got up and walked down the hall of the ranch home, looking for a bedroom to escape to. She found the second bedroom quickly enough, and shut the door behind her.

Why would her Mum insist that she stay with them? Why did Ron just agree and leave? Hadn’t she made it clear last night that she wanted to stay with him? There was a knock on the door, and her father walked in.

“Dad, I’m not in the mood to talk right now,” Hermione said.

“Hermione, honey, I’m not asking you to talk. I just want you to listen. I know your mother is being a bit harsh on Ron, and I’ve told her as much as I’m about to tell you. I don’t think she’s in the right here. We love you, and we’ve missed you, but you don’t have to stay here overnight if you don’t want to. I’ll understand if you want to go back to the flat with Ron. Your mother will come to terms with it eventually, too. You’re an adult now and I trust you to make your own decisions.”

“Y-You’re not mad at Ron?” Hermione asked him. 

“No, sweetheart, I’m not. He’s a good person, and he cares a great deal for you,” Mr. Granger assured her.

“So you won’t be mad if I go to him?” 

“No, Hermione, I think you need to go to him. Besides, I don’t think you even have anything to stay here with.”

“That’s true,” Hermione said as she stood up to hug her father. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome,” her father said. Hermione started towards the door when her father said. “Hermione, take the flowers back with you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked him with a confused look on her face.

“The roses. They were meant for you. Take them with you when you go back.”

“They were?” Hermione looked completely flabbergasted. Mr. Granger smiled as he nodded to her. 

Hermione thought for a moment and remembered that Ron was stuttering through something when she’d told him it was a brilliant idea to get flowers for her parents. ‘They’re meant to be for…’ She never let him finish. 

She couldn’t wait any longer. Hermione raced down the hall and into the kitchen. She picked up the vase with the roses in them and hurried for the door where she slipped on her shoes. Her mother must have retired to her bedroom because she didn’t see her as she grabbed her beaded bag. 

Hermione exited out the front door and walked down the drive and turned on to the sidewalk. She took a moment to really notice the flowers. There were twelve. Ron had told her the different colors had different meanings. Had he picked them out for her on purpose? Two purple, two white, two pink, and six looked...yellow? Or red? Hermione picked up her pace now as she walked briskly back to their flat. 

She walked up to their building and shifted the flowers to one arm so she could type in the code. The door clicked, and she opened the door. After making sure it closed behind her, Hermione made her way up the stairs. She stopped outside their door and set the flowers on the floor so she could dig out the key. Hermione unlocked the door, picked up the flowers and entered. She shut the door behind her as she saw Ron sitting on the couch. 

He turned slightly to see her. “Come to get your things I expect,” he said in a hollow voice. 

Hermione stared at the back of his head. “No, actually. I’m not going back there tonight.”

“Well, why not? Your Mum wants you home. She doesn’t want me around you. Made that bloody clear.”

“I’m an adult, in case you hadn’t noticed. And I can make my own choices!”

“I know that, Hermione, but if it’s all the same, you just got your parents back. I don’t want you to lose them on my account.” Ron had turned to face her now.

“I’m not going to lose them, Ron! I thought you’d be happy to see me, but I guess I was mistaken. If you really don’t want me here, then maybe I will go back. Let’s just separate our things and you can grab the next portkey to London!” Hermione couldn’t help her temper. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to talk about the flowers that she still clutched in her arms, not fight with him!

“Is that what you want?” Ron stood up and moved around the couch. His own voice was raised now. “Because if it is, then just tell me and I’ll go!”

Hermione stared dumbstruck at him. She shook her head violently. “N-no,” she whispered. She managed to regain her composure and then said more assertively, “Why would you think I’d want that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Ron challenged.

“Why wouldn’t- You can’t honestly be serious right now!”

Ron just gave her a look. “Let’s see, I had to insist on coming with you multiple times. You kept trying to tell me to stay until you finally gave in. We’ve barely spoken since the end of the war-”

“And how is all of that my fault? Your brother died, Ron! I was trying to give you space! I figured you’d come to me and we’d talk when you were ready. I didn’t know what else to do. I tried to be there for you when you needed it, but you preferred to be in your room, or with Harry. And it’s not that I didn’t want you to come with me. Your family needed you. I couldn’t be selfish. You’d just been away from them for the better part of a year!”

“That wasn’t your choice to make, Hermione! I needed to get away, but you wouldn’t know that because you never asked! 

“Because you never gave me a chance to!” Hermione shouted back at him, her eyes pooling with tears now. “You only ever came around when the nightmares started, and then you went right back up to your bedroom.”

“What did you expect from me, then? Did you want me to stay with you? You always insisted you were fine, so how was I supposed to bloody know what you wanted?”

Hermione lost it then. “I kissed you, Ron! Before the battle! I’m not sure how much more obvious I could have made myself. Then I waited. And waited. And I’m still waiting for you to say something about it. At this point I guess it didn’t mean anything to you now that we’ve made it to the other side.”

Hermione didn’t have anything more to say to him. She was used to rowing with Ron, and sometimes she even felt invigorated by it. But this, this was exhausting. She just couldn’t waste any more of her energy. She walked into the bedroom and slammed the door. The flowers were still in her arms and she set them on the dresser before walking to the bed and burying her face in the pillow as she laid down. 

She finally gave in to the tears that had been threatening. Nothing could ever seem to go properly when it came to Ron. Maybe she was foolish in thinking it could ever work between them. There was too much that was left unspoken and neither knew how to breach the topic of conversation with the other without keeping their emotions in check.

Hermione barely heard the door open. She held her breath, not knowing what Ron was doing. Was he just going to use the loo and then go back out to the couch? She had her answer soon enough.

“It didn’t mean nothing, Hermione,” she heard him say.

“Well, why didn’t you say anything then?” she said into the pillow. Who knew if he actually heard her through the muffled sounds.

“Thought it might have been a pity kiss,” Ron said as he dug his foot into the carpet.

“A pity kiss?” Hermione picked her head up off the pillow. “Are you serious? You’re the one who said it’s now or never, weren’t you? What was that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come off it, Hermione, we could have easily ended up like any of those other people who weren’t so lucky! Harry had asked us if that was really the moment, whatever the hell that meant. So, yeah, I responded with it’s now or never, since we may not have gotten another chance!”

“But now we do have another chance, yet we’re no closer to anything than we were at Bill and Fleur’s wedding,” Hermione stated.

Ron took in her words. She wasn’t wrong. Well, maybe a bit wrong. “Reckon we were a bit closer at the wedding, now that you mention it.”

Despite her best efforts to stay mad at him, Hermione couldn’t help but let out a short laugh. “You’re probably right.”

Ron stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of whether the intensity of the row had passed, and whether he could move closer to talk to her in a more mild mannered way. It was then that he’d finally noticed the roses were back. Despite their entire argument, he’d barely processed that she’d been holding them. “Why’d you bring those back?” he asked.

“D-Dad said they were for me. That you’d- you got them for me, but I didn’t listen.”

“Yeah. They were. Still are.” Ron moved closer to her and sat on edge of the bed.

“You said that the colors of the roses had meaning?” Hermione asked him.

“I- yeah, I did,” Ron admitted. “But it’s not that important.”

“But...did you pick those colors on purpose?” Ron nodded at her question. “W-why?”

Ron waited before he answered. “Because they reminded me of you. And I thought they fit us well.”

“What do the pink ones stand for?” Hermione said without thinking.

“The pink’s for, er,” Ron had to think for a moment. “Right, the pink’s for admiration and happiness.”

“And the white?” She tried her luck again.

 “The white stands for loyalty and new beginnings.” 

Hermione nodded. She assumed he’d picked the purple because it was one of her favorite colors, and you didn’t often see purple roses. “How about the dual colored ones? There’s quite a lot of those,” Hermione noticed.

“They’re yellow roses with red tips,” Ron explained. He admired them again for a moment before looking into her eyes. This was it. This was the moment. “The florist said they signify friendship deepening to love.”

Hermione’s lips parted as she heard the words come out of Ron’s mouth. She felt as though her heart stopped for the briefest of moments. The words she’d been hoping for since she’d kissed him before the battle was underway. Well, since fifth or sixth year, really, but who was counting? He...he loved her. He really, truly loved her. She watched as his ears had turned scarlet, his eyes had averted from hers briefly. 

“Y-you…” Hermione was having a terrible time trying to form words.

“Yeah,” Ron admitted. “Wanted to tell you for a while, but the moment hasn’t been right.”

“Since when do we wait for the right moment?” Hermione gaped at him. “Ron, I kissed you in the middle of a battle! I’ve been waiting for over a month for you to say something about it. I was starting to give up that maybe you felt-” Hermione didn’t finish her sentence.

Ron had stopped listening at ‘right moment.’ She was right. They never did wait for the timing to be ideal, and Ron was sick of talking about it. So he leaned over, and his lips found hers, taking her by surprise. His hand had reached up to cup her face while the other wrapped around her back. It took Hermione a moment to really understand what was happening, but when she realized it, she melted into him. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she kissed him back. 

She never wanted the feeling to end. Hermione felt as though she could kiss him like this for the rest of her life and that’d be perfectly fine. When they finally parted, Hermione looked at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell them you left, I really didn’t.”

“I know. I know,” he said. “It’s okay. I think it’s better that they know now. I meant what I said at Shell Cottage, though. I don’t have any plans to leave you.”

“I won’t leave either,” she responded. They were quiet for a moment as Hermione’s gaze drifted back towards the roses, and she thought more about the purples ones. “What about the purple? Is it because purple is one of my favorite colors?”

Ron rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Er, no. Purple stands for love at first sight...I mean, it probably wasn’t love at first sight, since y’know, I called you a nightmare and all first year, but when I think back on the moment I knew, I can’t really think of a moment where I didn’t feel this way. I was just too much of a stupid prat to realize it.”

“So the Yule Ball?” Hermione asked hesitantly.

“I was jealous,” he admitted. “By the way, I knew you were a girl. And I’d noticed quite a lot since third year,” his face felt hot. “Was too embarrassed to be mature about it.”

A small smile played at Hermione’s lips. “And the perfume fifth year?”

“Was supposed to be a hint,” Ron told her. “I’m sorry if you didn’t like it.”

“Why wouldn’t I have liked it?” Hermione asked him.

“You called it unique..that’s not exactly what someone says when they like something, is it?” Ron questioned.

“I, er, no, I guess not. I do like it though. I’m starting to run out, though.” 

“I can get more, though it may be slightly different since I now know the answers to some of the questions I didn’t before..”

“Questions?” Hermione asked him.

“Yeah, they create the perfume right there in the shop and customize it to the answers that you give about the person it’s for.”

“That sounds fascinating!” Hermione said in awe.

“So then, when you asked me to Slughorn’s party in Herbology. That was meant to be a date?” Ron asked as Hermione nodded. “I really fucked things up, then, didn’t I?”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Hermione said, but Ron gave her a look. “Really, it doesn’t! We still figured things out, and we’re, well I think at least..”

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Ron blurted out. He didn’t want there to be any questions surrounding their relationship.

“Yes!” Hermione said without hesitation. She sighed into Ron’s lips as he leaned in to kiss her again. They fell into an easy rhythm, getting to know the feeling of each other as they took their time sharing a soft, slow snog.

Hermione wasn’t sure how long they remained like that. Not that she cared. It was perfect. At some point they finally broke apart, taking turns using the loo to change into their pajamas. Now, they were curled up in bed, but unlike last night, Ron had wrapped his arms around her. It was hard to believe that everything she’d been hoping for last night was a reality only a day later. A reality she could get used to, finally knowing that she was his.

[ohsotwistedwords]

First Post & "Young Graves"

Greetings!

This is my first time having a tumblr account, and this is my first post. I am going to say here I’ll be running this with a friend, who would like to be called Bonnie. You may call me Snapdragon. With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy the story!

Young Graves

By Snapdragon

The wind is warm. The trees are a vibrant green, the kind of green that could rival an emerald in color. A girl wanders through the woods, her long blonde hair interrupted by a set of antlers. If one were to look closely, her arm’s sport fur with black and white stripes and her eyes are a kaleidoscope of red, black, and white. The bucket held in one of her hands swings with each step as she continues walking. The birds sing regardless.

Weaving around patches of thorn bushes, their branches green and their thorns as large as the nail of a pinky finger, the sound of a river crashing against stone can be heard. After a few more minutes of walking, the stony bank is visible. The water is crystal clear, but white where it crashes against the larger rocks jutting from the surface and oddly smooth where some large stones rest just below the surface.

On the bank lies a child- no more than eight years old. Their eyes are wide and glazed over, bulging from their head. Foam is at the corners of their mouth. The girl pauses. Children aren’t killed for no reason; this one at least looks to have fought back, with how disheveled and wrinkled their beige shirt is. The girl kneels next to the young boy, and her face pinches. She brushes back his brown hair to find two distinct nubs, which if he were to live, would have become a set of antlers not too dissimilar from her own.

Setting the bucket down, she uses her newly free hand to close the boy’s eyes. He was like her. That was why he died, she knows. Her own survival was merely luck, even with her mother refusing to kill her when she was younger. She’d learned when she heard the tale of Salonia and Fulvia, sisters afflicted with the same condition she was born into. Salonia was the more successful of the two, a bold and cunning merchant who always got the best prices and the rarest goods. She had a violent streak as well, befriending thieves and the most battle-hungry guards. Fulvia was lazy, and hoarded precious stones and metals. Because of her hoarding, her wealthy family had little to barter with. She almost single-handedly halted the economy of Ecrana. However, in the end, Salonia proved too violent to be left alive after killing her parents, and Fulvia so possessive and bitter she too had to be killed for not relinquishing a single item in her hoard, no matter how small.

There were countless other tales where people like them were villainous and nothing more, the girl thought as she began digging a hole with her bare hands next to the corpse of the child. Tales like those meant that people like her and the boy had to go. Had to let the other people live in peace, while they were branded anybrids and killed or exiled, in the best case scenario. But exiled though she was, as she dug she remembered her mother, with her blonde hair and proud smile when she greeted her after she’d caught a rabbit. The girl remembers her name, Aurelia, sounding sweeter than birdsong when her mother said it- the one person who had thought to stay with her.

After a few hours, there’s enough room for a shallow grave, and Aurelia drags the boy into the grave before pushing dirt over the tiny body. There’s a pause before she gets up. The birds sing the same songs, not caring about or maybe not noticing the tragedy of a life cut short. When Aurelia stands, she brushes the dirt from her legs and wipes her hands on the nearest tree, staining the bark with mud. Flecks of fragile pieces of bark and stubborn pieces of mud dot her hands, so she lets her shoulders fall as she walks over and dips her hands in the creek. The water feels heavy on her hands, sharp in its coldness and ever so slimy as it runs over her hands like a large smooth tongue.

She wipes her hands on her plain shirt, careful to avoid the patches of dried animal fur she’d used to repair holes that were torn into it. The air leeches the heat from her skin where she’d touched the water. She picks up her bucket and dips it into the water before heading back the way she came. That night, in her makeshift bed, a pile of animal furs, she wishes she could say “goodnight” to her mother one last time. That she could look her in the eyes, and thank her for sparing her life before she’d realized the value such a thing had. The crickets sing, just as unaware as the birds.

[lettersofwrittencollective]

Confessions

Author: @lettersofwrittencollective​​

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1797

Prompt: You’ve shown me what love can feel like. - from @nicole-lynne​ 350 follower challenge!!

Summary: When Dean finds some stitches on you, it leads to yelling and storming and then confessing. 

Masterlist || Supernatural Masterlist

Finishing up the stitching on your lower back, you used your teeth to cut the thread.

Weeks and weeks of fighting alongside the Winchesters will soon be coming to an end. The vamp nest you’d tried to take out at the beginning of this had been older than you’d realized and there’d been more than you’d ever expected. 

When they’d fled, a few of the leaders had managed to get out and they’d taken off to different parts of the country, leaving the three of you on a chase around town. 

During that time, you’d managed to get closer to the boys - sharing motel room after motel room had that effect. But through it all - you had managed to get closer to Dean. 

Which was frustrating, to say the least. 

Not because there was anything wrong with Dean but because you found yourself falling for the green-eyed man all over again. 

The first time you had met the Winchesters, you had only met Dean. You were 21 and he was 22. You’d lost a friend to werewolves and that was how you had been introduced to the supernatural. 

Dean and his dad had tried to pull some kind of FBI-thing but Dean had been a lot sweeter than his dad and as they worked the case, you found yourself talking to him more and more. 

After they’d left you and Dean had stayed in touch. A couple of times, he had been nearby or driving through and the two of you would meet up and grab some burgers and pie. This occasionally led to sleeping together. 

Dean would call you on occasion, just to talk he said, and he would always ask you to tell him about happy things. About good things going on in your life. But usually,  after these, he would go missing for weeks on end. 

It wasn’t until a few years later after you’d started hunting yourself that you realized that those calls were likely when a hunt had gone wrong.

Dean hadn’t been too happy when he learned you’d started hunting. 

In fact, the two of you had screamed at each other, back and forth for hours and he’d left in such a huff that you’d thought you weren’t going to see him again.

You’d heard stories about what Dean and Sam had gotten up to. About the yellow-eyed demon and the angels and leviathans and all the other things. You’d met up a couple of times, here and there to help each other out with a hunt but it seemed that things between you and Dean were always just a little off. 

You’d actually been surprised when he’d called for this last hunt. But you’d jumped in your Camaro and driven all night and day to get clear across the country and the three of you had quickly moved about the hunt. 

Now just the one bastard remained. 

Sam was pretty sure he knew where it was and you’d all be heading out in the morning but for now, it was a matter of just getting a couple hours of rest and then heading back out.

Currently, Sam was showering and Dean was on a food run. You hadn’t told either one about your popped stitch but it wasn’t like you hadn’t stitched yourself up before and you weren’t about to shy away from it now. 

Just as you finished tying up the thread, the door opened and you turned to see Dean walking in. 

“Shit Sorry Y/N!” he called out when he realized you were shirtless. 

“Relax De,” you muttered as you pulled up a towel to cover your chest and turned so that he would be staring mostly at your back. 

What you didn’t take into account, however, was Dean seeing the fresh stitches. 

“What the hell is that?!” came the angry shout as you hear. 

Turning, you find that he’s dropped the chow bags onto one of the beds but you barely have time to register it as his arms are on yours and he’s turning you back around, his hands coming to the cut on your back, sending shivers down your spine. 

“Y/N… Sweetheart,” he grits out, “How did that happen?”

“De,” you mutter, you already know that he’s going to try and force it and you’ll give in, eventually, but your pride won’t let you give in immediately, “It’s nothing.”

“That’s not what I asked,” he reminded you and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. 

The sound of another door opening and you turned to see Sammy walking out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips. He looked between the two of you.  You could feel Dean’s eyes turning and glaring into you, again, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the taller hunter.  

“Guys?” Sam asks and you can see the confusion on his face.

You open your mouth to tell him that his brother is being ridiculous only for Dean to cut you off with a harsh, “Not now Sammy. Y/N here’s been hiding somethin from us.”

You couldn’t help but scoffing and crossed your arms as you turned to glare at him, “I wonder why I’d do that?! Maybe because I knew you’d blow this out of proportion. It’s just a set of stitches Dean, it’s not like I’m bleeding out!”

“No, but you had been!” the green-eyed hunter practically roared at you. 

Groaning, you stalked across the room and grabbed the first shirt you came across and shrugged it on as you moved to leave the room. 

Dean moved to step in front of you and you raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to try and stop you. 

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, and you could see Dean’s mind moving a hundred miles an hour. You’re saved by Sam calling his name, distracting him just long enough for you to dart past him and out of the motel room. 

Making your way to your car, you quickly realized that you didn’t have your damn keys on you. They were still in your jacket pocket. The jacket that was currently thrown on the bed in the room. 

Huffing, you rolled up the sleeves of the shirt you were currently wearing, catching a whiff of the cologne and, instantly, you could feel yourself relax. 

It was Dean’s cologne. 

You’d been with him the first time he’d picked up this particular cologne. The two of you had picked out scents for the other one on a silly dare. The two of you had gotten each other something - he’d picked out something for you that had smelled like apples and water lilies, It had actually become one of your favorite scents and you had mostly worn it when you knew you’d see Dean but occasionally for a date or just to remind yourself of him. 

But this one, this one was highly distinctive, citrus-fresh with grapefruit, and a hint of mint and cedar. It had reminded you of a lazy morning, post-sex Dean in all the best possible ways and you had actually gone back to pick up a smaller bottle of it after he’d left.

Taking a look at the shirt you were wearing, you realized that the shirt you’d grabbed had been one of Dean’s flannels. It was actually one of your favorite ones 

This one was a simple red and black one but it always made your mouth water when you would see him in it. Though to be fair, it wasn’t very difficult to get your mouth to water when it came to him. But this one… you’re not sure what it was about this one but it was definitely worth every last moment of it. 

Pulling the flannel tighter against you, you moved to sit on the hood of your Camaro. 

Watching the cars driving by, it wasn’t long before you heard the motel doors open and you knew that Dean was making his way out. When he made it to the car, you scooted over slightly and motioned for him to sit down. 

He began to say your name but you shook your head, “Just trust me for a minute, alright?”

“I always trust you,” he pointed out and you couldn’t help but chuckle as you shook your head. 

“Alright then, humor me.”

You watched him nod his head before he moved so that he was sitting next to you on the hood. 

“It was about two vamps ago,” you told him. You could feel him stiffen beside you and you didn’t blame him, that particular vamp had been particularly nasty. Quickly moving on, trying to reassure him, you told him, “Don’t worry it wasn’t the vamp itself. Remember when we chased after him and got separated near the harbor?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Dean nod his head. Scotting closer to him, the two of you found yourselves in your second favorite position, with you tucked up next to him, head on his shoulder and you let out a chuckle, “Well turns out my balance was crap that day. I managed to fall and got caught on some of the barbed wire, it tore up the skin pretty bad but one of the barbs decided it wanted to really dig in. By the time I was able to get out of it, I managed to find you and Sam fighting the damned bastards and ended up splattered in blood. 

We got back to the motel and since I had called the first shower and you two were basically dead tired, I was able to clean it up and patch it up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked and you could hear the hurt in his voice. 

“Oh De,” you whispered, before pulling away from his shoulder only to turn your body to face him, “I didn’t want you to worry. You get so… overbearingly protective when you think I’m not at my peak and we still had three move vamps to go- I didn’t want you worrying about me.”

Green eyes met yours and you saw something in them… something you knew was reflected in your own. 

The thing with Dean was that… He’d taught you what love felt like and you knew that no matter where you went or who you met, no one would ever compare to Dean. 

Before you’d even realized it, you could feel his lips on yours and it felt like you could finally breathe.

Fisting your hands in his shirt and tugging him towards you, you can feel him move you and pulling away slightly, you find that you’re in his lap. 

“I need you stay safe,” he whispers against your temple before he leaned back in to kiss you again. 

Returning the kiss, the two of you found yourselves getting lost in each other. The sound of a honking car pulling the two of you apart from each other. 

Chuckling you tucked your head into the crook of Dean’s neck in embarrassment. “I am safe,” you remind him, “Whenever you’re with me… I know I’m safe.” You know he’s going to try and argue with you so you lean in and kiss his jawline, “I mean it De… Even when the world is falling apart, I know that if I can get to you then I’ll be safe.”

The two of you sat there for a few hours after. Though you didn’t share any words you could feel things between the two of you shift again and you were looking forward to where it was that this would lead to.

-

Masterlist || Supernatural Masterlist

-

A/N: Guys give me some grace here... I haven’t had a chance to really get into Dean lately (life got super hectic) I may come back and re-do this...

Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24​ @nicole-lynne​  @mummybear​  @emichelle​  @genius2050​  @suhoey​ @fullangelimagines​ @xceafh​ @stilessarcasmqueen​

SPN Taglist: @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @redsalv20​  @michellebarista​

Do not copy and paste my writing anywhere without my consent. This work is the property of lettersofwrittencollective . Associated characters belong to Warner Bros. Television and are being borrowed for this work, all OC’s are the property of lettersofwrittencollective. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

Posted 27 April 2020

[xz1005fanblog]

sorry to ask, but i’ve tried to read up on the wajijiwa incidents, but i’m still a bit uncertain about some parts. i know he’s currently under his own studio, but is he still connected to the last agency due to contracts or is he free of them as of now? if you know? sorry to bother!

Hi there! That’s a pretty tough question you’re asking me hahaha...

First of all, you have to understand that some things are kept secret in the C-ent industry. Not all studios will be declared immediately, contracts can also be signed and terminated secretly. Often big scandals about contracts are released in the news either by accident or on purpose, to create popular opinion in favor of one side or the other. 

For example, Wajijiwa held a couple of idol selection shows throughout the years, and despite the fact that they only officially declared that they would sign the winner with them, in reality they signed all top 9 candidates of the last season of Ming Ri Zhi Zi. It was the same with their previous idol selection shows. There’s a whole business around signing up idols and then earn money on the contract terms when they realize they got tricked and want to quit.

Another example, for the longest time I thought that Wang Yibo didn’t have his own studio, then it turns out that actually he just never declared it publicly. Someone dug up a company called Shanghai something-I-forgot-the-details and its boss was indeed himself. Of course, his YueHua mother company could be a major stockholder, since they still frequently post about Wang Yibo on their official weibo account. It all depends on what kind of contract he signed with Yue Hua entertainment, and what kind of terms they agreed in the end when he got his own studio. Another of UNIQ’s group members, Li WenHan, also has his own secret studio under the name of Shanghai something-something. These kinds of weird names are normal for studios, Xiao Zhan’s studio is under the name of Xia Men something-something (yes I’m very bad at remembering these...)

But let’s not dwell too much on why they do this, I’m not in the business and I’m a bit afraid of what I could find if I dig too deep. Either way, even if they have their own studio, we have no idea of the exact terms of their contracts.

Let’s get back to Xiao Zhan himself. I know a lot of fans are curious (myself included) over his exact contract terms and how he’s doing in the industry. Up till now, the only things that I’ve found any tangible proof on is what I’ve already posted in the background section of the blog. 

By 2018, Xiao Zhan’s role as BeiTang MoRan earned him more fans and his popularity increased, which led to his Doki! Popularity award of 2018. At the beginning of 2019, X-nine disbanded all but in name. Four of its members went on to participate in another idol selection show, the others chose to focus more on shooting movies or TV shows.

XZ workload increased but he was still operating solo with no manager. Some brands approached XZ for collaborations and were refused by the company Wajijiwa, possibly to focus more resources into promoting their younger artists. Many fans caught him going to variety shows and events alone, getting his events canceled without notice. It was unclear why exactly Wjjw suddenly treated him this way.

The above was confirmed by various old fans and an old post in the Secret Garden (yes that part IS coming up), where Xiao Zhan posted a drawing of a little girl standing with an umbrella under the rain (too long to dig up that picture, might add it later when I find it in my albums some other day) after his event was canceled.

From January 2019 to June 2019, the situation got bad enough that the company stopped all promotion of his activities. Wjjw tried to block all potential sponsors from reaching him, even sending lawyer’s notices to the ones who already signed with XZ before. 

This part was confirmed by one of Olay’s executives during a livestream in March, when his haters started spamming the broadcast comment section with curses. This executive basically confirmed that there had been some problems with his endorsements and Xiao Zhan came to him in person to apologize for it. 

XZ’s booming popularity with the success of The Untamed gave him more say within the company. He successfully established his own studio on September 28th 2019. 

Later on, it was revealed that XZ took legal action in May 2019, a month before The Untamed was released, possibly in order to put pressure on Wjjw for the drama to be aired in time for summer vacation. 

The lawsuit against Wajijiwa was withdrawn in October 2019, and the file was leaked onto the web around December 2019 (if I remember correctly). His antis are trying to blur truth by saying that he withdrew the lawsuit against one of the lead antis because she threatened to kill herself on a livestream. That is entirely false. Below are the screenshots of the news that day.

Of course rumors will fly around on how his contracts are all over the place, music production with Wajijiwa, acting contracts with Xin Li and what not. However, none of these claims have any tangible proof. 

Xin Li’s officials declared during a press conference in March that they do not have a long term contract with him. 

Wajijiwa never posted anything on Xiao Zhan after his last birthday in October 2019. He was also not present at Wjjw’s end of year party. 

Every official announcement went through XZ studio since its establishment in late September 2019.

EDIT 2020-05-18: Wajijiwa's last post on Xiao Zhan was in December, my bad, I completely forgot this last post. 🙄 Still doesn't change the fact that they haven't posted anything or said anything to defend Xiao Zhan during these past few months.

As for whether XZ really cut ties with Wajijiwa or not... It’s really hard to say, according to X-Nine’s original contract, he still has 6-7 years left. I really don’t think he is capable of paying the rest of the term price. The fact that he withdrew that lawsuit shows that they probably settled out of court on terms that will remain unknown to you and me. He barely got famous for half a year, and only signed on a couple of sponsors for a few months. He’s really not as rich as people think. 

And even if he is indeed free of his contract with Wjjw, he is still burdened with a lot of haters and antis right now. We can only support him and hope for the best.

[kaemulti]

(this is for the like five people who liked my post about me writing this 😤✊🏾and i have an AO3 account but i don’t want my kpop fan life and my non kpop fan life to clash right now so hopefully i can post the chapters for this fic here. i hope i’m doing this right, i literally got tumblr like a month or two ago so pls be nice 💀💀)

DEADLY DANCE:

—————————-

Story Summary: Korra Kuruk is an eighteen year old agent of The Air Temple Agency that has been tasked with bringing a rival company’s top teen agent to justice for her crimes. Korra, code name Water Tribe, must figure out what the true identity of the elusive Metal Bender is and what heinous acts her villainous agency is currently planning. How will Korra handle finding out her target is the one person she least expected and what will she do when that same person needs saving?

Deadly Dance : Chapter One : Little Miss Perfect

Kuvira shut her eyes tightly, taking a deep breath through her nose until it filled every inch of her lungs. She slowly let it out once she couldn’t take in any more oxygen and opened her eyes with new determination, deep breath centering her thoughts and calming any nerves that might be lingering. She could feel the whole room’s eyes on her, whole class practically on the edge of their seats as they watched her prepare for the final part of the combination. Kuvira smirked, an evil, sly smirk that would have easily given away her true personality if any of her peers were actually that observant. Fortunately, they were all far to enthralled with her movement, eyes widening as she extended her arms and raised her head. A beat, and she was off, turning and waltzing like she was floating through the air as the music rose in volume. She could feel the sweat running down the sides if her face, causing her skin to itch, but she couldn’t care less, she was electric right now, practically on fire as she completed all the steps without a hitch. Her face never broke from the innocent and vulnerable look of the character she was playing. Her limbs were long and free, passion practically seeping from every pore as the combination came to a close. She ended the fouetté sequence flawlessly, face refusing to show how increasingly uncomfortable her pointe shoes became pain an afterthought to the captivating performance she was seconds away from nailing. With one last turn, she took her ending position, chest slowly rising and falling as the music faded away to silence.

“Absolutely fantastic as always, Kuvira! Everyone please give her a round of applause.” The teacher said enthusiastically, smile wide as she praised her best student.

Kuvira smiled softly as she bowed for the applause from the class. The praise was cut short as the third period bell had rang, meaning they had spent their five minute time period for changing back into their normal clothes watching Kuvira complete the combination.

“Oh, spirits! That’s the bell, sorry I kept you everyone! Hurry and change, those of you headed to lunch should be fine but I’ll write slips for anyone who is going to a class period! Hurry, hurry! Great work today!” The teacher said as her students scrambled around the room.

Kuvira quickly dropped to the floor, hastily taking off her pointe shoes and shoving them into her dance bag. She jogged to the dressing room and begun to change, ripping off her constricting tights and deciding to exchange her bra for her leotard to save time. She finished pulling her skirt on and adjusted her turtle neck, haphazardly slipping on her sneakers as she rushed out of the door.

Luckily for her, the lunch room was only a couple doors down, unluckily for her however, she didn’t pack a lunch and waiting in the line is known to take half of their lunch period. She pushed passed some students in the hallway, raising the tone of her voice to give half hearted apologies as she did so, not that they knew that of course. When she finally made it to the lunch room she scanned the area for the table with her friends, smiling once she caught sight of them.

Being at this school was her least favorite thing ever so the fact she had actually found a couple people that cared enough to talk to her had been a blessing.

“Nice job today, Kuvira!”

“You totally owned that combo! I wish I could dance like that!”

“You should be proud of yourself.”

The praises weren’t new to her so Kuvira simply offered a smile and a couple thank you’s as she reached the table.

“Well if it isn’t the swan princess herself.” Wing teased as she sat down.

“Haha, very funny, Wing. I told you not to call me that when we’re not in practice, especially because we aren’t even doing that ballet this year.” Kuvira said light heartedly as she pulled out her makeup compact.

“My apologies, Great Uniter.” He said with a bow and smirk. The Avatar ballet had been widely requested by everyone in the dance department and Kuvira was beyond happy when she got picked to play the avatar’s ultimate rival, The Great Uniter.

“How was class?” Baatar asked shyly, barely making eye contact with her as he did so.

“It was fine, my feet are killing me but ballet is my second favorite dance class so I don’t mind.” She replied sweetly as she put on her eyeliner.

“I’ll never understand how you can do that so flawlessly, are you just perfect or something?” Wei asked as he practically inhaled one of his spring rolls.

“I wouldn’t say “perfect”, just skilled.” She lied, adding a sharp tail to the liner. She was playing a character right now and, sadly, acting cocky wasn’t in the script.

“I just don’t get how she got here so fast!” Korra panted, placing her backpack on the floor as she slumped on the table. She had gotten lost in the sea of people all trying to get to lunch on time from dance and had to race to avoid the hall monitor.

“Maybe you’re slower than you thought.” Mako joked, offering her part of his sandwich like he always does. He loved Korra to death but that girl was so frantic she basically forgot her lunch three times a week.

“Must you bully me after I almost got trampled in the hallway, again?! I’m hurting.” She pouted, taking her half of the sandwich from him and eating most of it in one go.

“Maybe if you actually started telling Mrs. Xiao when you have five minutes left of class you’d be here on time.” Asami smirked, not even looking up from her chemistry homework to tease the panting girl.

“I would have but she was too busy watching Kuvira prance around the room.” Korra said with her mouth full, rolling her eyes as she thought of the older dancer flawlessly completing that day’s combination.

“I’ll never understand why she gets under your skin so bad, Kor, she’s literally an angel. Honestly, I don’t even think she’d hurt a fly if she had the chance. Besides, you guys are rivals in the ballet, not real life.” Bolin said, blowing on his noodles to cool them down before sucking them up violently.

“And I don’t see why you don’t, just look at her! Being the center of attention every chance she gets.” Korra pouted, gesturing to the girl doing her makeup in her small hand held mirror a couple tables down.

“Are you gonna leave your hair like that the whole day?” Huan asked Kuvira, face contouring to a grimace.

“Shoot, (spirits, she wishes she could’ve cursed) I didnt even notice, thanks, Huan.” She said, placing the compact down so she could dig through her bag for a brush. She always forgot to take her hair out of her ballet bun and Huan, being the guy who was absolutely incapable of staying out of other people’s fashion choices, never let her forget. Kuvira still remembers how she had to force a smile and act like she didn’t want to bust his jaw that one time he said she looked like a snob when her hair was up.

He was right of course, but it still annoyed her.

Kuvira pulled out the brush she was looking for and set it on the table as she started removing the bobby pins from her hair. She smiled a bit to herself as she got the last one out, her favorite part was next, letting her hair down as she felt everyone watch.

She let the bun unravel as she gracefully shook her head, long, dark waves cascading down her back, almost reaching her butt. Honestly, she needed a trim, she’d have to remind Unalaq to make time in her schedule to get one.

Kuvira picked up the brush and ran it through her hair just enough to make it look neat but not enough to brush out the waves. She could feel several eyes on her, both male and female, as she did so. Kuvira wasn’t oblivious, despite how she acted as her character, she knew she was way above average in looks and she liked the eyes on her, craved them even. She opened her eyes and smiled as she caught Baatar looking at her.

Kuvira liked catching him watching her the most because she knew he’d never have a chance with her, no matter how much he wanted one.

“Looks like the line is shorter now, I’m gonna go grab lunch.” She said sweetly, quickly whipping her head around to eye how many people were still waiting in the line. She was fast enough to identify ten sets, five more than last time, of eyes on her before they frantically looked away as she searched for eye contact. She stood up and flipped her hair, strutting to the lunch line with an innocent smile.

“Ok, but it’s not her fault she’s gorgeous, Korra, that’s hardly a reason to hate her.” Bolin said, back at their table, pulling Korra out of her daze as she watched the older girl strut to the lunch line.

“I never said I hated her, she just...bugs me...” Korra replied, crossing her arms with a huff. Ever since the first day Kuvira had transferred to their school something about her seemed too good to be true, leaving a nasty taste in Korra’s mouth when interacting with the older girl.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a crush on her, Kor.” Asami said, finally looking up from her, now finished, homework to quirk her brow at the pouty girl.

“Wha-no. No! I do not have a crush on little miss perfect, sprits!” Korra said, annoyance clear in her voice as she furrowed her brow at her friend’s accusatory tone.

“Whatever you say, you should really just ask her to the formal in two months.” Mako said before he drank from his water bottle.

“I will not! I don’t even like her like that. Tui and La you guys are impossible!” Korra said, standing up from her seat and heading to the lunch line—because she was hungry! Not so she could stand next to Kuvira, she had more dignity than that thank you very much.

“Hey, Kuvira! How are you today?” Ms. Li, one of the lunch ladies said sweetly.

“I am great, Yuyan, thank you for asking. How about yourself?” Kuvira replied politely. That was one thing Unalaq could never shake from her, her manners for people less fortunate than she was. She had spent a lot of time talking to the school staff when she first got this assignment, she would tell her bosses it’s so she could find her target quicker but that was all a lie. To most, she might be considered to be on the wrong side of history, even if she thought that was nonsense, but that didn’t mean she was soulless. She only wanted the best for these people, why would she be cold if she didn’t have to be?

“Well, I could be better, these kids really don’t know how to say a simple please and thank you. It, um, it gets to you sometimes, you know? But, hey, I guess it could always be worse. Thank you so much for ask—Oh! That reminds me, me and a couple of the other lunch ladies made this for you, since you are such a big help around here.” Ms. Li said, reaching behind her to grab a small chocolate cupcake before handing it to Kuvira.

“Thank you so much, it looks delicious.” Kuvira said, accepting the sweet treat and placing it on her tray with the rest of her food.

“Of course! Anything for our favorite student. Congratulations on getting the part of The Great Uniter by the way, we look forward to seeing you shine!” Ms. Li smiled.

Kuvira smiled brightly as she punched in her lunch number, swiping her school card quickly. She appreciated the praise and she new she deserved it, but too much of it could make her uncomfortable. She said one more thank you to Ms. Li and headed back to her table.

As she was walking however, she almost ran right into someone who was clearly not watching where they were going. If she had been anyone else, her tray would’ve went flying, along with the items on it, and there’d be a huge mess, luckily she wasn’t anyone else. She was Kuvira, member of the Metal clan, the most highly trained spy organization in the world, and she’d be damned if she let her special cupcake get squashed. She easily spun around the person, gracefully hoping one of the railings to catch her airborne tray, every single item she had purchased returning to their places. Well, all except her juice box, which was still airborne, about to land on the ground behind her. She whipped her head back around and made a move to catch it but instead saw her onstage rival, The Avatar, played by Korra Kuruk, hopping the same railing to catch the juice box before it hit the ground, her own lunch items fully intact on her own tray despite the vigorous movement.

“I am so sorry about that! Here, wouldn’t want you to lose this.” Korra said apologetically as she held out the juice box to a wide eyed Kuvira.

As soon as they made eye contact Korra seemed to have picked up on what had actually happened, her own eyes going wide as Kuvira snatched the juice box from her hands.

Before either of them could say anything, the pieces finally falling into place and their initial shock quickly flipping to furry, the fire alarm went off, blaring loudly in everyone’s ears and causing several people, excluding Korra and Kuvira of course, to flinch in their seats. They had been trained better than to get startled by a sudden noise.

“Ok, ok, everyone please grab your phones, and I mean only your phones, and exit the building!” One of the lunch monitors said, ushering kids out of the back entrance so they could head to the field.

Both girls glared at each other, breath heavy in a rage as they did so, before going their separate ways to their respective tables. Kuvira grabbed her phone and followed Baatar out of the lunch room, not bothering to look back at Korra. Nobody at her table asked questions, not having been paying attention to Kuvira when she left the table.

Korra however, returned to a table full of wide eyes and slacked jaws, her friends having watched the whole ordeal after Korra bailed at the mention of a crush.

“That was some ninja shit, Korra! Wh- How- When! When did you even learn how to do that?!” Wu asked, most likely coming off of his hall monitor shift to eat lunch with them moments before the alarm sounded.

“Movies. Come on, we need to get outside.” She said, anger clouding her eyes and lowering her voice. Nobody asked any more questions and, even if they wanted to, Korra was already walking away, one foot out of the door

One thing’s for sure, Korra now had more reason than ever to hate Kuvira.

Kuvira was undoubtably the Metal Clan Protegé that Korra was tasked with arresting for crimes against the environment and the less fortunate.

[writergamermom]

Promo and Live Blogging #6

Ship Your Own Adventure

by

Emblue_Sparks

 Mature

Chapter 1 Billie/Crowley; Chapter 2 Sam/Eileen; Chapter 3 Dean/Crowley; Chapter 4 Kevin/Aaron; Chapter 5 Claire/Kaia; Chapter 6 Sam/Gadreel; Chapter 7 Crowley/Mick Davis; Chapter 8 Dean/Benny; Chapter 9 Bobby+ Rufus; Chapter 10 Dean/Castiel

Liveblog

Man Emblue Sparks did their own art! How can I top this?

His beloved Imperium Innocentia never ceased to fill him with wonder, and yet as of late, he'd begun to feel a worrisome unease when visiting. The loyal ferrymen were paid handsomely to usher his precious souls from there to the shores of Elysium and Asphodel Meadows. Neither Castiel nor Gabriel had reported any bumps in the proverbial road, so that couldn't be the source. 

               To be honest I am rather confused.

The realm was fiercely protected by thousands of wardings and enchantments. His rambunctious rescues were all squeals and delight as their tender souls regained the sweet innocence lost, as was the realms purpose. However, when visiting recently, his grace sensed...not a presence really, but a watchfulness. As if some all seeing eye was casting itself upon it.

So a place in the Scottish highlands is the first circle of hell where all the unborn or unbaptized babies are? Wait Crowley has GRACE? So confused.

Perhaps she'd care for some tea..or Craig? No, no scotch wouldn't do, how would that appear? Lovely to make to your acquaintance. May I invite you into my home for strong spirits on a whim?

I mean I wouldn’t say no, but I am drunk so what are you going to do.

He'd longed to ask her why she felt so familiar. Why in her presence he felt they might have been from another time altogether. A far away memory tiptoed on the edges of recollection just out of his mind's reach. Crowley would spend untold hours in contemplation, opening his mind in hopes the memory in which he sought might emerge from its shy shell and present itself. Alas, to his disappointment, none had stepped forward to claim that missing piece of neurological real estate thus far.

Wow, this is some kind of poetry.  Okay there are some major spoilers so I won’t post any more for this chapter. But I want to read more. There are like layers here man.

Chapter Two Notes: Because I cannot abide the logic surrounding Eileen's absence in the finale. Every actor is entitled to their opinion, as are we, the fans. Though I disagree with Jared, I'll defend his right to express his thoughts. But seeing as how this is my interpretation of this pairing, I'm giving Sam and Eileen this ending I feel they deserved because this handling of the finale among other things had me livid.

               Ooops, I have not watched the last season. Oh well.

And yet for Sam, the fates had been so unkind. For as his son grew and garnered a beautiful life of his own, one he happily shared with none other than Castiel Fitzgerald, his memory of Eileen began to fade. Once Dean Jr had realized it was happening, he'd prayed.

               Dean Jr. and Castiel Fitzgerald are together and Sam is losing his memories.  Bittersweet!

"Dean is well, although he misses you. We're happy, he and I. Eileen as well. I've heard your son's prayers. He fears you'll forget her due to your memories' condition. You sustained many concussions throughout your life. She grows..blurry for you, does she not?"

               Yeah Sam got hit in the head a lot!

Without warning, Jody walks into his home.

"Saam?"

He turns his head, stunned. She shouldn't be even be driving anymore let alone-

"Yo!"

Anybody home?" Claire and Kaia both called out as they too enter.

               Aww I love these girls. Imagine Old Jody still kicking ass and filled with sass.

"Let's get this party started," Jody suggested, busting a bottle of Johnny Walker Black label from her oversized old lady purse.

               YES!

Chapter 3  It wasn't the first time he'd watched Dean Winchester sleep, nor would it be the last. But he'd paid close attention when overhearing the very true sentiment expressed, "It's just creepy." Since then he'd taken extra precautions not to make the seraph's mistake.

               So it’s Dean and someone not Cas.

Dean was as tenacious as any demon,

               It’s Crowley!

They'd had a deliciously rambunctious role in the proverbial hay with triplets earlier that evening.

               Yeah I knew they had an orgy!

He began slowly pulling his hand back, so slowly in fact, he hoped it would go unnoticed. However, before it left the warmth of Dean's skin, he felt Dean pointedly grab his hand. 

               Wow. Yeah. That’s the good stuff.

Chapter 4: You got the job?! Awesome! Well, I knew you would. You're an outstanding accountant," Kevin glowed at his best friend Aaron, whom he'd helped land a position at the same company he worked at.

               WOOT KEVIN! I love Kevin. And Aaron.  I can see it.

Kevin had found an outstanding job at "Write Your Own Story," a place kind of like Total Rekall, only no memory sorcery involved. His friend Claire and her wife Kaia had inherited a typewriter from a long lost uncle...Megatron or something like that. They discovered its magic and sought to use it for good but also a career. It was gaining steam, paid the bills, but barely out of the beta phase.

               Nice! I dig all of this.

Over the next few weeks business boomed with the coming holidays. People wanted to write those they loved beautiful dreams as gifts. And as Kevin discovered, it was all the ink.        

               I would love to give someone good dreams.

Get out. I can’t believe you would do something like this. And you used a sacred holiday too..ya know what? Nevermind, I'm late for service, make sure you're not here when I get back."

               Oh NO!

Chapter 5: "We all missed you and mourned you. Just because we'd just met didn't mean we hadn't looked forward to welcoming you into our little family," Jody declared to Kaia as they pulled out from the bunker and started their five hour journey plus change back to Souix Falls.

I have not watched season 15, did Kaia and Claire get a reunion? I think I remember hearing something about Jody and Kaia. How sweet if she got to bring her home.

"I'm not gonna intervene with you two beyond this, but hearing from Sam all these years about how Dean and Cas keep dancing around each other,

               Poor Sam

"It's really you…" the golden lightning in a bottle whispered before slamming into her, squeezing so hard her eyeballs almost popped out.

               Nice

Chapter 6 Sam's crushed on the martial arts instructor at the Men of Letters Academy for a year and finally finds an opportunity to do something about it.

               I don’t know what this is.

Sam Winchester had been working at the Letters Academy for all of one year as a Professor of Supernatural History and Lore. Dean had graduated ten years prior and was a field agent with a partner of the celestial variety, Castiel. Sam preferred employment on the educational side of operations and prepared his students well, heavily arming them with the knowledge of what was out there and how to effectively neutralize it, if necessary.

               Cool. I am down for this

The instructor had joined the academy's faculty the same time as Sam and to say he had a crush on the guy was putting it mildly. His name was Gadreel, and like Dean's partner,

               Man they would make a mightily tall couple.

"Heard Max Banes is working through the ranks of Tai Kwon Do pretty fast. Aces all the tests and assignments in my class. Seems pretty motivated.." Sam tossed out for conversation.

               Before Covid I was doing pretty well with Taekwondo. I have not kept up.

"Those are effective, until knocked out of your hand or your mag runs out. Come by sometime, I'll show you some stuff..if you want."

               Yeah Ill show you some stuff too. In my pants!

"Private lessons I see, Gadreel. I'd no idea they were on the table. Perhaps we can come to some..arrangement." Sam looked up to see Arthur Ketch standing in the doorway aiming a lascivious grin at Gadreel.

               EWWW. Can we say creepy

It had Sam considering the length of his wingspan.

               Wingspan… Sure