#if someone disagrees please tell me why you think differently

[taylachan]

How good do you think Coronabeth is at swordfighting ? Compared to the cavaliers ?

I've seen different opinions around, some thinks she's pretty terrible at it and her entourage just entertains her to not make her sad.

I think she is pretty good. Comparable to Babs even. In GtN (aka the only time we have seen her fight) She was quick and strong.

Gideon was taken aback by her ferocity. She even used "beautiful" to describe it.

Having in mind How quickly Gideon gauged Magnus proficiency with the sword when they dueled, It is a safe bet to say she is quite good. Our Gideon is incredibly quick and even she had trouble to keep Corona at bay. (Was it enhanced because she was surprised? Absolutely)

Honestly I have no idea why people assume Corona is bad at sword fighting. Did they buy Ianthe's lies? "Oh I didn't consume my sister because she was bad and lame." Come on, we know that is bullshit. We know why Ianthe didn't kill her sister.

[dukeofthomas]

I find the fact that the confrontation at the end of UTRH is often summarized as Jason asking Bruce to kill the Joker for him fascinating.

Because that's not what happened.

Jason holds a gun up to Joker's head, gives Bruce another, and tells him that if Bruce doesn't do something (shoot Jason), he will kill Joker.

Jason doesn't give the gun to Bruce so that he would shoot Joker. He isn't expecting Bruce to pull the trigger on the clown. He's asking Bruce to do nothing. To be inactive. Because that will still be a choice, and despite having done nothing, everybody clearly agrees that Bruce would still, at least in part, be responsible for Joker's death.

...And to me, this moment is a kind of- microcosm, of the rest of Jason's point. Because after being captured and carted off to Arkham, the villain will escape again, and will kill more people. The only way to truly prevent that from happening would be to kill them; Bruce refuses to do so, and I respect his right to choose such a thing for himself, but it is still a choice, and if we agree that Bruce's inaction during the confrontation would leave him at least partly responsible for the Joker's death, then we must also agree that his inaction in permanently preventing the Rogues from killing more people means he is also, partly, responsible for all of those deaths.

[felignis]

i think chappell roan enforcing her boundaries to creepo parasocial fans is so fucking awesome and based and she should be allowed to do whatever she wants forever

[medicinemane]

Sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy

You have... very very very very very very very very smart people you know, and they're say something that not only isn't true, but literally is as opposite of the truth as it's possible to be... and you'll... gently inform them "hey, it's actually a bit more like this" and then they just kinda... go on saying literally the exact same thing

I'm not sure if it's just that... I often feel like I must be very bad at communicating, or people must just not notice/ignore a lot of what I say, but... I don't know

Like dearest friend, you've said something as absurd as... I don't know, it's hard to say without saying it, but honest to god about as absurd as saying the United States was a part of the USSR, that level of completely getting it backwards

...and it just doesn't seem to matter when I try to explain it... I legit don't even know if you read what I said

Really end up feeling like I'm going nuts sometimes

[queer-reader-07]

i love when people seemingly do everything in their power to interpret what you’re saying in the most bad faith way possible. it’s so fun and nice. (sarcasm)

[steddiealltheway]

Steve sighs as Robin cackles and opens the door to the break room to add yet another tally to the “You Suck” side of her whiteboard. He hopes she lingers for a bit so he can get a break from the constant reminder that yes, he does suck. But the stupid hat and sailor uniform is enough of a reminder already.

And okay, maybe he enjoys Robin’s company a little bit, so maybe he doesn’t want her to linger for too long.

But he’ll never tell her that. Not in a million years.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots someone walk into the entrance and he turns to give his “ahoy there” speech that Robin refuses to utter a single word of. Only, he gets a little choked up when he realizes he knows the person.

Well, not exactly knows him. But it’s hard not to know of Eddie “The Freak” Munson. Especially if you go to high school with him and happen to be a jock, god forbid. Not that Steve ever disagreed with the things he said, although some of it went right over his head - okay, most of it did. But! All things said, Eddie had a habit of making himself known to people.

“Ahoy there!” Steve announces louder than intended. “Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain.” He leaves out his name because what’s the point? It’s not like Eddie isn’t aware of his existence or at least his last name which sometimes made a feature in his tabletop speeches.

“Steve Harrington,” Eddie says for him, apparently knowing his first name. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” Surprisingly, it’s not said in complete distaste. In fact, Eddie is smiling widely at him, eyes roaming over the uniform and landing on the hat.

Steve sighs, “Trust me, I know. So, what can I get for you today?”

Eddie smiles wickedly and asks, “Why don’t we set sail on this ocean of flavor and you can show me around, captain?”

A blush creeps its way up Steve’s neck and begins to burn at his cheeks. Probably from the humiliation. Nevertheless, he points out each different flavor and goes into detail about what’s in each since Eddie seems to be enjoying the humiliation, but Steve doesn’t mind it too much since he feels like he’s getting his undivided attention. And something about that makes Steve feel… less sucky.

He glances up at the end of his speech about the last flavor and catches Eddie staring at him with a small smile on his face, more genuine than before.

“What?” Steve can’t help but ask.

Eddie shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, but the lie is clear to both of them. “I’ll get the USS Butterscotch.”

Something about the flavor makes Steve hesitate.

“What?” Eddie asks this time, slightly defensive.

“Nothing,” Steve says with a shake of his head. “Cup or cone?”

Eddie laughs, “Come on, you can’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Eddie gestures at him. “Make that face and then pretend like you weren’t thinking anything.”

Steve raises his eyebrows at him. “And you can?”

Eddie’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he leans across the top of the glass dramatically and puts his head in his hands. “I’ll get a cone please.”

Something about the image makes Steve laugh as he grabs a cone and scoop, making the order for Eddie. "You know." he says, wishing the ice cream was the slightest bit softer, "I was expecting you to get something like death by chocolate or coffee."

"Why's that?" Eddie asks curiously.

Steve glances up at him and shrugs. “Those flavors are more…” he struggles to find the right word.

“Metal?” Eddie asks, sounding almost hopeful.

“Exactly.”

The smile on his face grows. “Well, I’m glad you see me as someone metal, Steve. But what, just because you’re a jock, I’m supposed to expect you to like some gross flavor like bubblegum?”

Steve frowns. “I like bubblegum ice cream.”

Eddie sighs and runs his hands over his face. “Of course you do.” He takes a moment to look over Steve again. “But looking at you now, I’d assume your favorite flavor would be the USS butterscotch.”

“Because of the stupid hat, right?” Steve asks as he drizzles extra caramel on the top of the cone.

“I think the hat is cute,” Eddie replies.

The comment sends Steve’s heart into a bit of a frenzy for a moment before he collects himself and hands the cone over in exchange for the bill in Eddie’s hand. He counts the change two times, trying to make sure he doesn’t make a mistake as a bunch of panicky thoughts go through his head. He hands the change over quickly but hesitates when Eddie stares at it and frowns. “Something wrong?” Steve asks.

Eddie glances up at the menu, down at his change, and takes a moment before saying, “Sorry, you just charged me for a single scoop when this is a double with an extra topping.”

Steve frowns and looks at the cone. “The topping is on the house, but that’s a single scoop.”

Eddie glances up at him and raises his eyebrows.

“A generous single scoop,” Steve corrects himself.

There’s a pause before Eddie’s smile widens, and the corners of his eyes crinkle up cutely. “I think i just found my new favorite ice cream place.”

Steve laughs, “Better than Linda’s Ice Cream Parlor?”

“Linda would call this a triple scoop and wouldn’t give me a topping but she would still make me pay the extra just for asking,” Eddie complains with a smile.

“Well, I would never do that to you.”

“Is that so?” Eddie asks, leaning forward a bit.

Steve’s eyes glance down at Eddie’s lips momentarily as he tries to come up with a response.

“Hey dingus, there was a horrible delivery you missed…” Robin trails off as she looks between the two, effectively ruining the moment.

“See you around, Harrington,” Eddie says with a wink, tongue darting out and gathering up a bit of white ice cream and letting it disappear into his mouth.

Steve feels a familiar heat in the pit of his stomach and nearly groans. Instead he hurriedly tells Robin, “I’m taking my break!” And effectively ignores the look she’s giving him.

Back in the break room, Steve walks up to the board and stares at it, glancing at the “You Rule” column and whispering, “Almost,” before sighing and putting his head in his hands.

He can’t believe that Eddie Munson is sending him into a sexuality crisis. Yet, he hopes he comes back often the rest of summer. And maybe he’ll finally be able to get that “You Rule” tally.

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [4] - Spark

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ I hope you’ll like it, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤️

Summary: A quiet night on the rooftop holds new promises.

Word Count: 3500

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

“I’m not saying my best friend in the entire world betrayed me, but I’m kind of tempted to change her name into Brutus in my contacts.”

“Just because she cancelled on this dinner you mentioned?”

“It’s a tradition at this point,” you said, leaning back on the couch. “Us and the Barnes family get together every two months, we’ve started it way before my mom passed away. I get that it’s the bachelorette party of her friend’s sister, but still!”

Dr. Cooper smiled calmly.

“Are you nervous because Bucky is going to be there?”

Your head shot up and you forced a nonchalant laugh.

“Bucky doesn’t make me nervous,” you said, the words coming out of your mouth in a rush and she raised her brows.

“Doesn’t he?”

“He annoys me,” you pointed out. “There’s a difference.”

“I can see that,” she said. “And why does he annoy you?”

Your eyes snapped up at hers and you shifted your weight on the couch.

“We have history.”

She hummed. “What kind of history?”

You nibbled on your lip, your stomach doing a flip at the memory but you pushed it to the back of your mind, rolling your shoulders back.

“Let’s change the subject.”

She thought for a moment, then put aside her notebook to with a sigh.

“Y/N,” she said. “We’ve been having these therapy sessions for three months now, am I correct?”

“Yes,” you said. “Sarah Wilson recommended you, she’s a good friend of mine.”

“And you were seeing Dr. Phillips before?”

“No offense to Dr. Phillips but I don’t think we were a good match.”

She nodded.

“That can happen,” she said. “But I just need to make sure you understand that if these therapy sessions are going to work, you will have to step out of your comfort zone sometimes.”

“Oh, therapy isn’t in my comfort zone,” you said with a wave of your hand. “You’d think it would be, after years and years of experience but…”

“I’m aware this is not what you want to hear but for us to make progress, you will have to be open with me,” she said. “Instead of changing the subject all the time.”

You smiled. “I don’t think me being completely open with you is in your best interest.”

“Why not?”

“Just a hunch,” you stated, your voice completely flat and she hummed.

“How about this?” she said. “Perhaps you could just try sharing something small with me. I’m not saying you have to share every single thing if you’re not comfortable with it, but…maybe something that happened recently and how you reacted to it?”

For some reason, “Someone tried to shoot me a week ago” didn’t feel like it was a great conversation starter so you leaned back, looking up at the ceiling to come up with something.

“I’ve recently found myself in sort of an… unideal situation,” you ended up saying and she nodded her head.

“That’s a wonderful start,” she said. “Can you elaborate?”

“Someone acted very rude towards me the other night when I was having dinner with a friend from college,” you said. “And I was annoyed at how inconsiderate it was to pull that shit when I was in the middle of something. Like what, you couldn’t wait an hour or so to do this on my way back home?”

“How did you react when it happened?”

“I didn’t get to react much because Bucky placed himself in that situation as well.”

“He was there?”

“Passing by,” you spat, “Anyway, he got involved and the situation was resolved pretty fast.”

“In disagreements like these,” she said. “It’s incredibly important that we make our stance and boundaries clear.”

You pursed your lips. “I don’t disagree.”

“So this inconsiderate person you speak of, would you say they know how you feel about the issue?”

You repressed a smile, then leaned back, crossing your legs.

“I think so,” you said. “I expressed very clearly how I felt about the issue and now, well…I’m very certain that they won’t do it again.”

                                                *

Normally you didn’t mind these dinners mainly because you and Becca would have a lot of fun once the dinner was over. George and Winnifred had always been nice to you and Winnifred had more than once said you were family, seeing that you and Becca were inseparable even when you were little.

And you were hoping Bucky would be busy the whole night so you wouldn’t have to spend the night delivering snarks back and forth.

Ian sipped his wine while you texted Becca under the table, complaining about how she should have been there for the hundredth time since the morning before you lifted your glances from the phone.

“Becca gives her regards, everyone.”

“Oh thank you sweetheart,” your father said. “Will she not be joining us then?”

“There’s apparently her friend’s bachelorette party?” Winnifred asked, turning to you as if she wanted to be sure and you nodded.

“Her friend’s sister’s bachelorette,” you said helpfully and George smiled slightly.

“And when will we see your bachelorette, sweetheart?”

“George!”

“Not soon I hope,” your father said with a chuckle and you waved a hand in the air.

“Definitely not soon,” you said and Ian played with his fork.

“I don’t know,” he said with a scoff. “You keep dating civilians, one of them will ask you to marry them sooner or later.”

Your head snapped up and a silence fell upon the table. George and Winnifred exchanged glances and your father raised his brows.

“Y/N?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Ian doesn’t know what he’s talking about as always.”

“Oh is that right?”

“Our Y/N is a very beautiful girl,” Winnifred said as if trying to de-escalate the situation. “Civilian or not, I’m not surprised many people are interested.”

You offered her a thankful smile and turned to your father.

“I’m not dating civilians,” you assured him. “Or anyone right now.”

“But you know the rules,” your father said. “Any civilian you decide to date has to go through the background check.”

“With good reason,” George pointed out before taking his fork to his mouth and you hummed.

“Yeah yeah, I remember the whole speech.”

“Bucky and Becca got that speech as well.”

“They apparently needed it,” Winnifred said. “I mean do you remember Bucky’s ex girlfriend? Dot?”

That familiar bitterness of jealousy churned your stomach and you pursed your lips, then reached out for your wine glass.

“Were you here around that time sweetheart?” George asked you. “Or were you still away for college?”

The music was booming through the club as you walked back to the bar from the bathroom with Becca, and you looked around for your date as Becca motioned at the bartender, then turned her head when Steve touched her shoulder.

“Hi there.”

“Hey!” Becca kissed him on the cheek and you smiled at him.

“Hi Steve,” you said, taking your cocktail from the bartender. “Um, did you see my date anywhere?”

Steve shot you an apologetic smile. “I told him not to do it.”

Becca sucked on the straw of the cocktail, raising her brows and you frowned.

“What?”

“Bucky.”

Your jaw clenched and you gritted your teeth, putting your drink down.

“Where is he?”

“I just want to remind you that Sam has just bought this club, so he’d be pretty angry if you shot my brother tonight.” Becca pointed out, leaning sideways to Steve’s arm and Steve nodded his head.

“Wouldn’t look good for the club.”

“Where is he, Steve?”

Steve pointed upstairs. “VIP.”

You whirled around on your heels and stomped your way up the cantilever stairs, anger rushing through you. You made your way past his and Sam’s bodyguards by the door, then slammed the door open to step inside. Bucky was talking to Sam as you walked in while a gorgeous girl resting her head on his shoulder and Sam hissed in a breath.

“Uh oh,” he said. “Told you not to do it.”

“Hi Sam.”

“Hi Y/N.”

The girl lifted her head from Bucky’s shoulder as Bucky sat up straighter, and had the nerve to smile at you.

“Hi Charm.”

“Where is my date, Bucky?”

“I think he said he had something to do,” Bucky said, stealing a look at Sam. “Something urgent, right Sam? That’s what we heard.”

“Oh you’re not dragging me into this.”

“I’m sorry, who is this?” the girl asked and Bucky cleared his throat, then motioned between you and her.

“Y/N, this is Dot; my girlfriend.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, that familiar bitterness climbing up your throat but you managed to keep your expression flat.

“Dot, this is Y/N. She’s uh…she’s Becca’s best friend.”

Sam tilted his head to shoot Bucky a look of disbelief.

“You’ve just intimidated Becca’s best friend’s date into leaving the club?” Dot asked, confusion laced in her tone and Sam cleared his throat.

“They grew up together,” he explained to her. “Bucky tends to get overprotective of Y/N, kind of an old habit there.”

 Dot pressed a hand on her chest.

“Aw that’s sweet!” she said. “So she’s like a sister to you, Bucky?”

Sam raised his brows as if trying to keep a straight face, then he shook his head slightly while you glared at Bucky.

“Well—” Bucky started but you cut him off.

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Just a warning. Don’t blame me if you keep dating people who are easily intimidated.”

“Who I date is none of your business.”

“You are Becca’s best friend so it makes it my business—also, you call that dancing?” he asked you. “He was feeling you up, he should be glad he walked out of here with his junk still attached to his body.”

You ran a hand over your face, then turned to Dot.

“Listen, I don’t even know you but you seem nice enough,” you said. “You probably deserve better than an asshole who thinks his dick is made of gold. You could do much better.”

With that, you walked out of the room and slammed the door behind you.

“No, they got together after I returned to the city,” you said. “Like a month after my graduation. I was here, she was pretty nice.”

“I didn’t like her,” Winnifred said and you let out a small laugh.

“And when was the last time you liked anyone he or Becca brought home?”

“When was the last time either of them brought someone I could like?” Winnifred asked back and you held up your hands with a grin, gesturing surrender.

“Daddy is the same,” you said. “But don’t worry, just in case things get serious with a partner, me and Becca came up with a great plan years ago.”

“What is it?”

“We’ll get everyone drunk,” you pointed out, coaxing chuckles out of them. “Should make things easier, at least for the first dinner.”

                                              *

 After dinner, you had excused yourself to go up to the swimming pool on the rooftop, so that you could enjoy the night. After their weekend house, this one was the one you liked the most among Barnes residences; it had such a lovely view of the night sky. You sipped your wine and leaned back on the lounge chair, heaving a sigh and keeping your eyes on the stars.

Becca was still partying with her friends so you were just going to enjoy some peace and quiet until it was time to go home. You loved spending time with George and Winnifred, that wasn’t the problem, but this evening you really weren’t in the mood for Ian’s bullshit. You knew very well that he knew about your date with Ethan, and though he hadn’t told your father yet, you were sure it wasn’t from the goodness in his heart.

Not that he or your father had anything to worry about. You had made sure that Ethan got a background check as your father wanted with all the civilians you dated, back at college and right before you decided to meet again two weeks back, you had done the same. It was safe, whether they approved him or not.

The sound of the door opening made you turn your head and as soon as your eyes fell upon Bucky stepping to the roof, you let out a groan.

“I thought you were busy.”

“I was,” he said, approaching you with a glass of whiskey in his hand before he sat down on the lounge chair beside yours and you stole a look at him.

“You missed dinner.”

“Mm hm. Sorry about that.”

“You never miss dinner.”

“Yeah well, wasn’t exactly my choice,” he said, making you turn a little so that you can look at him better.

“Why?”

“Overtime at the office,” he joked and you tilted your head.

“Trouble?”

“Nothing we can’t handle.”

“Does my father know?”

“He does,” he said as your phone vibrated on the small table beside you, making you check the screen.

From: Ethan

My coworkers dragged me to this café and I think you’d like it.

You smiled slightly and typed back your reply.

Well, the only way to be sure is if you invite me there the next time.

It didn’t even take him five seconds to reply back;

Lunch tomorrow?

You typed in a “Yes” and sent it, then turned the phone in your hand while Bucky lit a cigarette.

“Is that the civilian?”

“Ugh, not you too!” you whined with a grimace. “Everyone already gave me the third degree at dinner, you’d think I’m going to elope at any time.”

He shot you a light hearted glare. “They’re just worried about you sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that—and also, you’ve dated one hundred civilians, I don’t see anyone giving you speeches,” you grumbled. “It’s so hypocritical, not to mention medieval.”

Bucky chuckled, then sipped his drink.

“Well…”

“I don’t know why everyone keeps acting like the possibility of me ending up with a civilian would be a disaster.”

“Because it would be.”

“No, you know what the disaster would be?” you asked him. “Me ending up with someone from the business.”

“Oh come on—”

“Pop out a few babies, pretend I don’t know about his mistresses and go to pilates for the rest of my life,” you mused. “Dream life right there.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that and you know that,” Bucky said. “Only an idiot would cheat on you, and in case it has escaped your notice, idiots don’t live long in this line of work.”

You suppressed a smile threatening to warm your face, and instead rolled your eyes at him.

“Not worth the effort,” you said as you downed your wine, then held out your glass in his direction. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards but he still grabbed the wine bottle on the floor to fill your glass.

“Thank you.”

“As the princess wishes,” he said and you heaved a sigh, then leaned back again to look up at the sky.

“What’s going on with the business?” you asked. “Are you and Stark still on bad terms?”

“We’re playing nice,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Common interests for once.”

“I’ll pop the champagne,” you deadpanned. “He looks pretty busy; he and my father have a meeting next week as well.”

“Will Ian be there?”

You heaved a sigh. “I’d assume so.”

Bucky ran a hand over his face, then turned to you.

“Your father is not serious, is he?” he asked you. “He’s not actually going to name Ian as his successor?”

That familiar bitter taste burned your mouth but you pursed your lips together, then slipped a little on the lounge chair.

“Why are you asking me?” you asked. “Go ask him that.”

“I’m not going to do business with Ian, Charm.” Bucky told you. “If your father retires and names him the successor, that’s it.”

Your jaw dropped as you gawked at him.

“You cannot be serious,” you said. “Just because you don’t like him—”

“It’s not just that,” Bucky said. “Stark and I hate each other’s guts, but I still know he’s not going to break the truce or stab me in the back. Ian, on the other hand…”

“Ian is insufferable,” you said. “Trust me I’d know, I live with the guy. But breaking the truce is a death sentence, and he’s not an idiot.”

“I don’t trust him,” Bucky said. “Neither does Steve, or Sam.”

You massaged your temples with your fingertips. “Don’t put me in a position where I have to speak well of Ian.”

“You couldn't speak well of him if you tried,” he insisted before he took a sip of his whiskey. “Listen, I get why your father made the decision he made after your mother, but that was then. You can’t tell me you’re okay with this.”

You bit inside your cheek, swirling the wine in your glass.

“He promised it to me, Bucky,” you said through your teeth, your gaze fixed on your wine. “All those years ago. I was playing with dolls in the car and and my father pointed outside and told me that part of the city would belong to me when I grew up. So no, of course I’m not okay with the possibility of Ian being the successor.”

“Then take over.”

A small laugh climbed up your throat and you nodded at his whiskey glass. “How many of those have you had?”

“You know me better than that, I’m completely sober,” he said. “Why wouldn’t you take over?”

“Don’t you remember what went down in Massachusetts years ago?” you asked. “That family fight for the crown? They almost brought the whole city down with them, alliances got fucked, so many people died...”

“That was very different, there was no truce there.”

You clicked your tongue. “Still. It would devastate my father if I started a war in the family.”

“Ian is going to burn your father’s empire down,” Bucky told you, his piercing blue eyes locked in yours, making your heart skip a beat. “You think it won’t devastate him to watch that? If you want to be the next leader—”

“Of course I want it,” you cut him off, your whole body tense. “What I want changes nothing here.”

“Charm…”

“My father made sure I stayed out of the business since my mom,” you said. “Which was good strategy on his part, I admit. Ian on the other hand has many friends in the business and they’re completely loyal to him. He would not just hand that position to me, not when he thinks my father will name him as the successor instead of me.”

“He has his men, so what?” he asked you. “Compared to the support you would have if you wanted the crown? You have more allies than Ian.”

You blinked a couple of times, a small glimmer of hope warming your chest before you cleared your throat.

“There’s the code,” you muttered. “It’s family business. No one outside the family can get involved in the decision of who the next leader should be.”

A small smile pulled at his lips and for the thousandth time you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was, but then you frowned down at your wine glass and put it on the small table, rolling your shoulders back.

Yeah. Enough wine for the night.

“But a powerful ally in the family would make everything much easier, wouldn’t it?” he asked and you scoffed a laugh.

“My hypothetical rise to power?” you asked. “Obviously. But either way, it’d be an uphill battle. What with the city and family and everything…”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he said without pulling his gaze off you and you felt your cheeks burn under his intense stare, but managed to keep your expression completely nonchalant.

“No?”

“Not at all.”

“And how’s that?”

Bucky swallowed thickly and downed his whiskey in one go before straightening his back. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was nervous but of course that was nonsense; Bucky was too arrogant to be nervous.

“Come on,” you taunted him. “Humor me, golden heir.”

“Well,” he said after a pause, turning his empty glass in his hand. “You have a point. You would have to get most of Ian’s supporters within the family, you would have to persuade your father, and considering Ian will not want to hand you the crown, that whole process would not go very peacefully. Me, Steve and Sam already support you, but the rest of the families could take some time and effort to convince. I guess some bloodshed in the city would be inevitable as well, it’d be a huge change, considering your father’s influence and power…”

You hummed. “Or?”

A smile curled his lips upwards and he took a deep breath.

“Or,” he said. “You could marry me.”

Chapter 5

[jungwondazed]

18+ only. / sacrilegious jungwon.

a/n warnings: mentions of acts during prayer. please proceed with caution as this is a sensitive theme that can be uncomfortable to some.

being with him was exciting, a rush that you never quite felt before. living life on the edge, doing things you weren't supposed to, well this was all new to you.

jungwon was different from the people you hung around. he was a so called "bad influence" as your family likes to reiterate. he wasn't supposed to be here right now, and you would be in deep trouble if you were to get caught. but he snuck in through the window, and you've become less inclined to disagree with anything he does.

he walked around your room, poking at your belongings and smirking at how pristine everything was. he never failed to mention how lovely and clean you were, so you take it that your room lived up to your image well.

jungwon takes a seat besides you, his hand gripped on your kneecap, right where he always does. he was respectful of your boundaries, as you told him anything below the knee was fine. he was never forceful, gentle with his movements. always asking if you were okay with how he touched you here and there, not like it's ever been anything further than a small peck on the cheek and an arm around your waist. although sometimes your rationality betrays you, and you can't help but wonder how it might feel if he touched you in other places.

"so tell me, why is it you're so religious, ___?" he starts. you're flustered at such a question. his dimple is prominent as he speaks to you, and it makes you look away with a heated blush.

"is it something you're truly passionate about? or, is this, something your family enforces on you?" he continues on before you could come up with an answer.

you don't really know how to answer that. your relationship with god was set the moment you were born. and everyday you intend to get closer to god. god was with you, he's apart of you.

you brush off the topic and he grins, eyes tracing the shyness on your face. he was far too intimidating to look in the eye, but god was he such a handsome man.

"did you pray today, ____?" he asks this with his eyebrows raised, dimple prominent and it makes your whole body flustered. you hadn't. it's been hard to pray lately when you spend most of your day thinking of him.

jungwon chuckles at your awkwardness and takes it as a no, bringing his fingers to brush the underside of your kneecap.

"is that so? but i thought faithful girls like you must pray often, is daily not so often anymore?" his gaze is deep in your eyes, and you think you see a twitch in his smile.

your eyebrows furrow as it seems like he was reprimanding you. you were a faithful girl. you had to be. you always were. he knows this about you doesn't he?

jungwon reaches towards your shoulder to move your hair away from your neck, and your jaw drops at his finger tips leaving subtle traces along your collarbones. he never touched you there, no one ever has.

"will you pray for me today, ___? will you pray for us both?" your breath hitches at a request, but who are you to ever deny praying over someone. especially someone like jungwon. your bring your hands together, closing your eyes.

his presence is hovering over you, you feel it before you open your mouth to pray. and then his lips are pressed ever so gently on your neck, causing your eyes to fly open and a sharp gasp to fall from your lips. you're almost horrified if not for how good it felt. so good that a vulgar sound almost escaped from your mouth.

"j-jungwon?" you look up at him, his eyes are dark and lustful.

"is this okay, ___?" his eyes glower, "would you pray over a sin like this?"

your chest is rising up and down. almost out of breath from that bit of contact he initiated. you weren't expecting this at all. this wasn't okay was it? this was far from holy. the neck area was sacred. god, forgive me please. forgive jungwon and i for engaging in such activities. but god did this feel so good, and you'd be lying again if you didn't fantasize of all the areas where you could feel his lips.

his eyes glance down your neck, before leaning in again.

"go on for me, say your prayer."

he kisses your skin softly, the smallest pecks that are then dragged by his lips from one area to the next. whimpers fall repeatedly out of you, and an arousal blossoms within.

you close your eyes again. you must pray for forgiveness. you must.

"d-d-dear," you struggle, his lips are grinning against your skin. kisses wet against your neck, it was the most foreign feeling you've ever felt. he worked on a particular spot that had you nearly shaking, almost dropping your hands to grip onto his body to hold yourself together.

"h-heav,- h-heavenly" is this what the kisses felt like? the ones you read about and seen in the movies jungwon introduced you to? he always promised you that they felt really good, and that whenever you may be ready, he'd be willing to show you. is this what you wanted to show, jungwon?

his hands subtly work their way up towards your shoulders, holding you in place as you were trembling everywhere. he switches to the other side of your neck, starting at your jaw, peppering kisses straight down before licking the crevices in your collarbones. this was the best thing you quite ever felt, the pleasure almost unbearable, a "god" sighs from your lips.

"i don't think that's how that prayer goes," he pulls his own away. "do it right this time, ___." your face is as hot as the summer pavement.

"d-dear, dear h-heavenly, heavenly father," he leans back in to kiss your skin again, full on sucking at the parts that make you wince. lapping his tongue over and over the sensitive areas as you struggle out every word to this prayer.

what was god to you? he was a man above, a man who was watching all of this unfold. but god was with you, god is always with you. through your prayer and your sins, god is a man that will forgive you for your actions. and above all, god loves everyone. you've told yourself that no matter what your family says about jungwon, he is loved by god. and if god loves him, shall you not love jungwon in the same way?

with his mouth marking your untouched neck, you clasp your hands harder than ever, praying away the sins you two have created. maybe this is why you are religious, to do vulgar acts and have it all be okay in the end. is this the answer you wanted jungwon?

[sailoryooons]

I am going to say something that has really been bothering me that not everyone may agree with, which is totally okay, everyone is entirely valid to disagree with me: There is a fast fashion problem in fandom, specifically fanfiction.

Disclaimer: This conversation is not about broadly writing the same tropes, genres, and ideas. I am not talking about people writing fics with similar themes or the same name. I am specifically talking about people writing fics that are very obviously heavily influenced by other fics. This is not me talking about: I wrote __ character as enemies to lovers vampires and so did this person so they stole. Please do not trivialize this conversation with instances that are very obviously not what I'm talking about.

As someone who exists in the fanfiction space, I want to express what I have seen specifically in this space in my own experience, my mutuals experiences, and random experiences I have seen on my dash.

Recently, it seems like there is a reoccurring theme of writers (often new writers) taking "inspiration" from fanfics that they love and value and essentially creating their own version of that story to the point it is bordering on plagiarism. I say bordering on plagiarism because while people may not be copying line for line or entire scenes in order, you can tell that it is a re-arranged duplicate of another story.

I am not talking about writing similar tropes and dynamics. No one owns a trope or a dynamic. I am specifically talking about people taking the plots, scenes, concept and core of fanfics and recreating it and changing some plot elements or placing it in a different alternate universe and calling it their own, when at the heart of that fanfic, it is taken from someone else's creation.

This to me, reads like people who read a work, fall in love with it, but think 'this is easy to do, I can do this myself' and they end up making a replica of a fic that you can tell is a replica of another fic, despite adding some changes. Nine times out of ten, these inspired fics lack the obvious thought and heart the original writer put into it.

Which, begs the question: How is this different than fanfic writers taking inspiration from media (i.e. published books, movies, music, shows)? Because fanfiction is meant to replicate a specific something from published media. It is not meant to duplicate an already established fanfiction contribution.

I know that the nuance between that line is very ambiguous and it brings up the discourse on 'should there be fanfiction of fanfiction' - to which my response is it is, generally, pretty obvious what the difference between being inspired by a fic and copying a fic are.

In the last few months, I have lost count of how many times I or mutuals have a) discovered someone has been writing a story based off of their fic 2) have been asked to use an already written work to make their own or 3) already have started writing works modeled after an already written work and in hindsight asked the author if they could keep doing so (this third instance almost always happens after someone accuses them of stealing another work).

This feels like the fast fashion industry. Someone finds a story that is popular (whatever that means to the individual), takes all of the elements they think makes the story works, rearranges it, posts it as their own and and says they were 'inspired' (if they credit the original story at all).

This is why so many works that readers are coming across feel like they are the same thing. It is the same A + B + C = D over and over and over again, because people are outright just taking what they think works from other stories and using it.

Again - I am not talking about people who come across a trope, AU, genre or dynamic they like and add something similar to their story. I am talking about the people who are very intentionally and obviously writing the same exact fic with their own 'twist' (whatever that means).

Why is this a problem (beyond the fact that it's essentially roundabout plagiarism)? You're taking the heart, soul, and creativity someone poured into something and posting it on your own and robbing it of the originality, the essence, and the intention behind it. You cannot replicate a writer's feelings and obvious emotions that they have poured into the original work, and it shows. And it is gutting to the original authors who are finding remixes of their work across the fanfiction space.

Please consider whether or not you are inspired by a story or if you are redoing it in your own image. If you find yourself worried enough about your story that you feel like you have to publicly credit someone to avoid scrutiny, perhaps the question needs to be asked of whether you're just redoing what someone else already wrote.

Please do not confuse inspiration and recreation. 9 out of 10 authors will love that they inspired you to write, but would not love to find that you wrote a fic inspired by them that is a rearranged or hollowed-out version of the fic they wrote.

The fanfic space wants and needs more writers, but it does not need people unwilling to create their own art, instead taking bits and pieces from others and calling it a success.

Also adding: This problem also directly contributes to 'smaller' writers or more niche (often queer and bipoc) stories not getting the hype, readership, or recognition they deserve. On more than one occasion I've seen stories that had explicitly queer or bipoc characters taken and turned into heteronormative or white-presenting stories.

Note: This 1000% goes for actual visual art as well, including gifs etc. in fandom but I'm not well-versed there and thus, did not include it.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Personal Issue

summary: santi invites you to his hotel room the day after your engagement to talk. he says the unexpected— that he’s in love with you.

prompt: "Why did you never tell me?" "It was a personal issue." "You being in love with me kind of also involves me." - @creativepromptsforwriting

pairing: santi garcia x f!reader

contents: get together fic, best friends to lovers, simp!santi (he’s lowkey a lil pathetic but i love him), angst, mental health issues/thoughts of dying, cheating, kissing

wc: 1,966

an: a teeny tiny something bc i miss santi. thanks to @ivystoryweaver for the beta <3

oscar characters masterlist

"Why did you never tell me?" You demand, unable to keep the horror out of your voice.

Santi ignores the way your tone scrapes at the wound in his heart— the wound that’s always been open because of you. Always fresh, unable to heal because of you. You always seemed to be just out of reach, slipping through his fingers for one reason or another.

"It was a personal issue,” He reasons, shoving his hands in his pockets.

He can hardly look at you. It’s humbling. He’s never had an issue with charming a woman, but you aren’t just any woman. You’re his best friend. There are too many eggs in this basket.

You scoff, crossing your arms against your chest, "You being in love with me kind of also involves me."

“I didn’t— things were different before.”

“Different,” You test the word, not at all buying it. It feels like bullshit. Like a cop-out.

“Yes, different. We were kids, and then I was gone all the time.”

“No, Santi, you can’t do this to me.”

Santi smiles, though there is no humor in it. You’re right— he shouldn’t be doing this. Not today, not any day, but he’s finally reached his limit. It’s now or never.

“I don’t really have a choice, now did I, cariño?”

You glare at him, about ready to rip his head off because that‘s not true. You and Santiago have known each other for most of your lives— and you’ve loved him for at least half that. He could’ve told you days, weeks, months, years ago that he felt the same. But in true Santiago Garcia fashion, thinking only of himself and the consequences that sit right in front of him, he’d told you today.

Today wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t the day after you’d gotten engaged. No, Santi chose the day after you’d finally given yourself to someone else completely, the day after you promised yourself you’d settle and try to stop loving him. What you’ve wanted for years and years on end has finally come and now it feels like some sort of cruel joke.

“That’s one of the most heinous lies you’ve ever told.”

“The Colombian government would disagree.”

“You know what— get the hell out of here. I don’t want to see you ever again. I can’t believe that you think you can just waltz right in here and—“

Santi takes two long strides towards you, closing the gap between you so that he can cup your face. “Tell me no. Say it. You have to say it to me.”

“Santiago, please,” You plead softly with him, your eyes round with fear. Your hands reach up to grasp his, making futile attempts to pull them away. “Don’t make me choose.”

Santi leans closer, the tip of his nose ghosting yours. His eyes are darker than usual, burning into you, a little angry— though he has no right to be— and a little desperate. “Why? Why not, hmm? He’s not that important, is he? Because you know you’ll choose me, don’t you?”

“Stop. Stop. Do you know how unfair this is? How fucked up it is for you to tell me this?”

Santi’s grip on your face tightens— it’s not painful but it’s frantic. You can feel the urgency in his fingertips. “Yes. Yes, I know. And I’ve always wanted to be better for you. I want to be a good man, I want to be worthy. Not some fucked up guy who’s better at killing than he is at telling the woman he loves how much she means to him. But, I’m not.”

“You could try.”

“I have. Don’t you get it, baby, I have. Yesterday when I saw those pictures. When I saw this—“ He tangles his fingers with your own, twisting your hand so you have to stare the ring sat on your finger in the face.

It glistens and gleams like it taunting you. It’s exactly what you wanted— the right cut, the right material—sparkling even in the dark. Your stomach churns at the sight of it. You shouldn’t have said yes, that much you know for sure. When you went back to your apartment last night you sat in the shower, your tears disguised under its spray. And when you had emerged, you’d made yourself a promise. To be a good and loyal spouse to the man that had actually chosen you.

“It drove me fucking insane. I lost it because I’m losing you. I had to try. If you say no, I’ll never come back. I’ll take assignment after assignment but if there’s even a small chance, baby, that you could still love me— because I know you did…I know you do.”

“I don’t want you gone forever, Santi. I said that because I’m angry.”

“You have every right to be.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that.”

“Then what do you need, huh? Tell me, and I’ll give it to you. Whatever you want.”

There’s more than one answer to that, but you have to give him the right answer. You’d just promised yourself last night that you would move on. Who knew that he would make it so difficult.

With a soft, shaky breath you say, “I…I need you to let me go.”

Santi goes dangerously still, his breath catching. “What?”

“I need you to let me go,” You repeat gently, closing your eyes so you don’t have to face him. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

The words sound syrupy in his ears, far away and unreal. He looks at you with confusion. “You want me to let you go?”

“Yes.”

The sharp anger and desperation in Santi’s eyes fade away, leaving his features soft and round and sad. So markedly sad. He lets his eyes trace your face for memorization; lips and eyes, the slope of your nose. He leans in to kiss your forehead, letting out a soft sigh.

Santi has done wrong by so many others and even done wrong by you. But this he’ll do right. If you want him to let you go then he will. He’ll let you walk out of here and never look back. Maybe he’ll get so involved in his work that he won’t think of you or this moment ever again. Maybe something will take him away completely. He flinches at his thought— it’s been a long time since something that has floated around in his mind like that. Taking a step away from you, he lets you go, fingers aching with the ghost of your skin against his.

You rest your face in your hands for a few moments, trying to pull yourself together. And when you straighten, you’re sure not to look Santi in his, just in his general direction. You’re broken enough and meeting his gaze would surely cause you to fall apart.

“Thank you, Santi,” You whisper, not trusting yourself to speak any louder.

He gives you a stiff nod, “Anything for you.”

Why do those words feel like you’re being stabbed in the heart? If he meant them, then why did he wait so long? Why did he do this to the both of you? Your vision blurs a bit with tears and you quickly grab your coat from where it’s laid on his bed, taking deliberate steps towards the door. Your hand lingers on the doorknob— are you sure that you want to do this? To walk away from the man you’ve always wanted?

“Wait,” He calls after you.

You freeze, but don’t turn towards him— that would be asking for trouble. Trouble you are trying so fucking hard to avoid. “What is it?”

“I just— I have to say it to you one more time because I don’t know if I’ll be able to again.”

“I told you I didn’t want you gone for good, Santi. We don’t have to do this, you can just let me walk away and we can act like it never happened,” You say, though you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince him or yourself more.

“I don’t think I can promise to stick around. I can’t watch you marry someone else. I’m not gracious enough, querida.”

“Okay,” You whisper, the tears in your eyes starting to fall.

“I…I love you. I always will.”

Silence falls between you two, an empty cove. Santi hopes that it’ll be enough, that somehow, miraculously you’ll turn around and run into his arms, telling him that you love him too. Instead, he hears a soft sob and watches as your hand rises to wipe at your face before you straighten up and step out into the hall.

When the door shuts behind you he feels like he’s drowning. Like he can’t breathe. His heart is thrumming loudly in his ears, and he crumbles, letting out a groan as his knees hit the ground.

What the fuck has he done? Lost you forever, and told you that he can’t stick around. That was the last time he would ever see you. A world without you is one he’s sure he doesn’t want to be in.

He’s completely paralyzed with fear. He’s not sure how long he sits on the ground like this, shocked and still, but eventually his body starts to ache so badly he’s unable to ignore it. He crawls to the bed, reaching up to rest his weight on it and lift himself onto it. Here he can rot until he can no longer. Until Frankie or Will or Benny come to bang down the door and figure out what the hell is wrong with him.

It’s not long after that that someone does start knocking on his door. Has it been days? One of them was here already. Santi feels like it’s been minutes and weeks all at the same time, time stretching and squeezing in a way that feels unreal. It takes real effort to rise out of bed and make his way to the door. He doesn’t bother to check who it is, opening it with no reservations.

Maybe he died of starvation or dehydration. He must have been lying there much longer than he thought because it’s you. You’re standing at the door, tear-stained and so goddamn beautiful. This has to be heaven— except he’s undeserving.

“I love you too,” You blurt out.

“What?”

“I love you too,” You repeat. When Santi says nothing, staring at you in a daze you start to ramble. “I tried to go home and I couldn’t sleep. And then I drove around a bunch but I couldn’t stop crying because how am I supposed to live my life without you? Then all of a sudden I was here again. I love you, Santiago.”

“You love me.”

“Yes, I love you. Are you okay?”

Santi feels like his body has recalibrated. “Am I— get over here,” He murmurs, reaching to pull you into his room and crushing your mouth to his.

He presses you against the wall, covering your body with his own as he completely devours your mouth, forcing his way in and sucking at your tongue. All you can do is melt into him, hands scrambling to find purchase in the fabric of his shirt so that you can clutch him closer. His mouth is firm and so sweet. You want to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him for the rest of your life. Something in your brain reminds you that maybe, just maybe, if he loves you as much as he claims he does you will. It has you giggling into his mouth.

He grins into the kiss. “My kissing is funny, is it?”

“Funny isn’t the word I’d use for it but just to be sure— kiss me again?”

“Anything for you,” He murmurs, his mouth capturing yours once more.

santi taglist: @jitterbugs927, @theconsultingdoctor10, @tanzthompson, @clairevoyanceee, @moonmalice, @tiffanypooh, @dearvirtualdiary-blog1, @marc-spectorr, @xbellaxcarolinax, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @missdictatorme, @whatthefishh

[saintescuderia]

ANTINAL // CS55

(a pancakes oneshot!)

AKA - carlos tries the local food in jeddah without you - and suffers as a result

series masterlist here :)

the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: this was written as a coping mechanism for the fact that carlos is sick and might not make jeddah

“Please tell me what you were thinking.” 

You walked into the room to see the Spanish driver sat on the bed, rubbing his eyes from the nap you had just woken up him from. Good. You had seen his Instagram story and the bragging of the 50km bike ride around Jeddah. With the Ferrari contract coming to an end, Onoro was working overtime. Carlos’ schedule was now jam packed with all these PR moments, both official in having meetings and dinners, and unofficial and his Instagram was now becoming his CV. 

Case in point, let me show off my athleticism. 

“I wanted to go for a bike ride.” Carlos said simply. His ran a hand through his bed hair, wild from his nap, and then his eye adjusted to you. “Don’t dump your bag there.”

“Then don’t keep your shoes here.” You retorted as, of course, his shoes were right by the door. You two had often argued about it, him haphazardly taking them off as he walked into the hotel and you tripping over them and then nagging him about it as you kicked them to the side. As now, you nagged at him and kicked the white sneakers out of your path. 

However, in doing so, you stopped and bent down to pick up the shoes. You looked at him and then back at the shoe with the Nike swish. A surprised smile found its way on your face, distracting you from the issue at hand. 

“You went out in dunks?” 

“You bought them for me to wear.” He said as if it were obvious. “Girlfriend affect.” He waved a dismissive hand in the air and you couldn’t help but smile at how cute that was. For a second, the whole thing disarmed you and made your forget why you had rushed to the hotel room in a huff. 

Then Carlos reached for some pills on his bedside table and it all came rushing back. 

It wasn’t like you disagreed with all the extra stuff Onoro had his cousin do. Carlos needed to start working now if he wanted to find another seat for next year. You all agreed to it. What you didn’t agree to was Carlos taking stupid risks with his training and doing stuff like a 50km bike ride in Saudi Arabian weather without you. The heat stroke alone was enough to knock him out and prevent him from actually racing that weekend. 

Case in point, right now. 

“Alright kids I gotta get to work, if I don’t input those numbers… doesn’t make much of difference.”

You snorted, immediately tuning into the iconic voice of one Chandler Bing. You look to where the TV was playing one of the earlier season of FRIENDS, the cast looking especially younger. You looked back at Carlos and frowned, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“What? You always say I should watch it.” He said. 

It wasn’t that Carlos was watching FRIENDS. It was the fact that he was in bed watching FRIENDS. If there ever was someone more pedantic about sleep hygiene, it was him. If he had just woken up from a nap, it wasn’t planned. Suddenly, your worry about his wellbeing overtook your anger. 

“How are you feeling?” You asked as you came to sit on the edge of the bed he was still reclined in. You brought a hand to his forehead and noted his temperature. Nothing alarming. Though, he was shirtless and the AC was on. You also noted the green gel of aloe vera he had likely stolen from your own suitcase. At least he was taking care of himself. 

“Better now that you’re here.” He said and reached up to bring the hand that was feeling his forehead to bring it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to your fingers. You rolled your eyes but still couldn’t help but smile. 

“You’re not going to get out of this.”

“Out of what?”

“Carlos, I saw your story.” You said. 

“One second mi amor.” Carlos flipped the bed sheets back and then climbed out of bed. He rushed to the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him. You stared at him confusedly as suddenly there was music playing from inside the bathroom. You were really at a loss with this one. Especially since you recognised the song and wondered since when your boyfriend willingly listened to Metro Boomin? 

Carlos was particular about his bathroom time and if he was playing music, you could only assume he wasn’t in there just to take a piss. Evidently he was going to be in there for a while and that meant you would have to occupy yourself until then. 

There was a coffee machine at the small kitchenette that was calling your name. You had woken up earlier than usual to help Oscar through some drills before the race weekend and the need for caffeine was all too real. As you popped the pod into the Nespresso machine, you realised the spread of half-eaten food Carlos had likely ordered - and dumped into the kitchen sink. 

You knew his diet well since you had been the one to essentially create it. It had been a painstaking process to carefully craft a regime that allowed Carlos to hit his protein goals - and indulge in his love for food. Because man, did Carlos love food. He had pretty much wept at the sight of you poached chicken breast all those many months ago. Since the relationship between the two of you had shifted on from the strictly business of a trainer-driver relationship to becoming a fully fledged romantic couple, Carlos had taken you out to countless restaurants. He had a list in his Notes app of all his favourite restaurants, bars and cafes all around the world and had decided to take you to every one come a Grand Prix weekend.  

You thought it was stupid since he needed to work but one could never be mad at those eyes. It was how he managed to get you to let him eat all that he did. 

So to see that Carlos Sainz, the Spanish foodie Carlos Sainz, had ordered a lunch of plain fruits and plain toast— you were immediately confused. Suspicious even. Carlos eating plain toast was… unfathomable. 

You made your coffee and opted to just wait until Carlos could explain his choice of breakfast. The way you saw it was that he was restricting himself with such low calorie foods in the hope of shedding weight and hopefully then bettering his race. 

The coffee had finished pouring and you huffed as you picked up the cup and went to sit on the bed. 

“I can’t stop smiling.”

“I can see that. It’s like you slept with a hanger in your mouth.”

Sitting on the bed, you blew on your coffee and tried to focus on Rachel and Monica on the TV - and not how Carlos was currently his own worse enemy. It was no use to tell him off now. Reyes had told you how the Junior was like the Senior in the toilet being a sacred space. You don’t bother Carlos on the toilet. 

You had done that once and it was the only time Carlos had ever snapped at you. 

Something buzzed in your pocket. It was likely Oscar asking about lunch and so you went to set the coffee on the bedside table to free up your hands and respond - when you saw it. 

You recognised the Ferrari water bottle with the personalised 55 decoration. 

You also recognised the Antinal box of pills that were half opened beside it. 

Oh. 

Suddenly all the puzzle pieces clicked into place. The plain foods, the lack of forewarning as he jumped to the toilet, the impromptu nap. Carlos wasn’t unfit for Jeddah because he was overworking himself, Carlos was unfit for Jeddah because he had diarrhoea.  

Looking down at the familiar bottle of pills, your only question now was how in the fuck Carlos knew to take it. Sure, Antinal would’ve been your go to if you were hit with gastro or food poisoning or whatever it was that was now plaguing your boyfriend. Your auntie used to have a hoarded stock of the medication in her cupboard above the microwave. You swore that the stuff was magic. It was better than any of the medication you had found in the US or UK. Though, how Carlos had managed to get hold of Egyptian diarrhoea medication was beyond you. 

You looked back at the white dunks by the door and remembered how while you had been training with your brother, your boyfriend had been doing some PR for Saudi Arabia and touring the local streets. 

The door finally opened and out came Carlos, patting his stomach. You said nothing as he came to sit on the bed beside you, not questioning how you took his side. He wordlessly climbed back under the covers and you felt all the anger, all the worry wash out of you. All you felt now was genuine fondness for the sick boy beside you. 

“You tried the local food without me.”

It was a statement but Carlos still curled up beside you and mumbled an affirmative “Yes.” to your side. Your arm came up to wrap around him and start playing with his hair. 

“How the fuck did you find Antinal?”

“I asked Oscar.” 

“Oh, habibi.” You couldn’t help but croon as you had to imagine Carlos going to your brother, someone he admittedly didn’t get along with all too well and asking for help because he had stomach problems. Still, you knew Oscar wouldn’t have said anything or made jokes. No matter his feelings towards Carlos, Oscar wasn't like that. Besides, you had taught the young driver enough.

For example, to always have gastro medication. No matter what. 

Carlos didn’t saying anything and you didn’t feel the need to add anything. Instead, you slowly got up from sitting on top of the covers and came to slide yourself underneath them. You brought your arm back around Carlos and resumed your comforting massage as he rested beside you, eyes closed. You, however, were sipping on your coffee, half your attention on the 90s sitcom currently playing - “I can’t believe you didn’t know it was a line!” - and the blue and grey text bubbles between you and the driver you considered your little brother.

Oscar was now asking if dinner was an option since lunch was evidently now forgone that Carlos was asleep next to you. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Or so you thought was asleep. You blinked, looking down at the boyfriend you thought had drifted off again. 

“For what?” You said, dropping your phone and sliding down to bring your face to his. You lightly traced his face and saw the way his frown between his brows eased, his lips lifted slightly. 

“Ricciardo made a joke about my contract in front of Lewis. It’s why I went out for that bike ride and posted about it.” He admitted. You bit back any of the words that immediately came to mind and how you wanted to rip into the stupidity of letting someone like Daniel Ricciardo getting to him. Sure, there was some clear bad blood but you really had hoped Carlos wouldn’t have let it get to him. Danny was just a scorned ex after all.

“If anything, I should be mad that you went to explore restaurants without me." You said lightly. "What happened to us having one couple date a weekend?”

Carlos’ eyes blinked open at that as his smile grew. You felt warmth inside you bloom seeing that beautiful, beautiful smile of his. Your phone buzzed again and you turned over to pick it up and read the message from Oscar. You snorted. 

“What?” Carlos asked. 

“Oscar says he hopes you feel better.” 

“That’s nice of him.” Carlos said, sitting up slightly to reach over you and go for his water bottle. This made you sit up also and now you both had your backs to the headboard, sitting up in the bed. 

“I think he just wants you to race so he can get payback for Spa last year.” You said. Oscar’s next text thread confirmed this and you chuckled and went to pick up your coffee to take a sip. Carlos shook his head and went back to lay his head on the pillow. 

“When does this kick in?”

“The antinal?” You asked, grinning as you still couldn’t believe Carlos Sainz was using your Middle Eastern auntie’s magical cure for anything stomach related. “Maybe an hour after taking it, depending on how bad it is.” Carlos frowned and closed his eyes, shifting a lot as he tried to get comfortable back in the bed. Your grin fell slightly and you brought your hand back to his hair. 

“Sleep it off, habibi.”

“What are you going to do?” 

“Watch FRIENDS.” You said with a shrug. 

“I was supposed to watch it.”

“Not my fault.” You sassed back. “I’ll rewatch it with you again later. You just work on fixing your stomach and I’ll read through race strategies and debrief you later in case you can race.” You paused and took a sip of your coffee. “I also need to convince Lando to come to dinner.”

“Why?”

“Since you and I haven’t had dinner and I was supposed to be with Oscar for lunch but I’m here with you.” You explained. "He's wanting dinner plans."

“He saw you all of yesterday and this morning.” 

Carlos' complaints made you smile. “We’ll go out us four. You two can bond again.”

He only huffed. “When have we ever bonded?”

“When you got over yourself and asked him for antinal because you wouldn’t stop shitting?”

Carlos’ response was to reach his hand up and flick you on the nose. 

[harrypotterandthefandomaccount]

worthy of trust

pairing: sebastian sallow x fem!reader

warnings: sebastian being a jerk & calling you ignorant, angst, feeling like you lost a friend but he makes it up to you with a lil kiss

note: i've been obsessed with hogwarts legacy and the gameplay itself is just phenomenal. 39 hours into the game lol and still so much to do, so enjoy this sebastian oneshot. based on his questline, in the shadow of the mine i think?

important note: i do NOT support hate towards the transgender or LGBTQ+ community. JKR has made her stance very clear and i could not disagree and be disgusted with her more. this fic and future ones merely pertain to the character(s) in hogwarts legacy and to my knowledge, JKR had no part in the game. if you are still mad i play the game/write fics for hogwarts legacy, you can scroll past this. thank you!

you had no qualms about trusting lodgok since sirona ryan had known him for years, along with miriam. while the both of you had been albeit hesitant at first towards one another, he had proven his loyalty to stopping ranrok and was actively trying to be one step ahead of him - which is exactly what you, sebastian, and the others wanted.

however, when the opportunity arose to tell sebastian about lodgok, it all came flooding back to you - anne.

you and sebastian had just finished clearing out a cavern of arachnids, which quite honestly, was pretty exciting. you had even reminded him that well, spiders aren't insects.

"don't you start," he had responded, a small smirk on his face.

after finding the last piece to the tryptich and hoping to solve the mystery concerning isidora morganach, returning to the undercroft was the last step. you both were eager to see if the portrait piece would fit, and once it had been placed, you were able to breathe.

"please tell me you recognize the location in this bit of canvas," you said, turning around to face your slytherin partner in crime.

he sighed, "the good news is, i do, in fact."

your shoulders dropped, "and the bad news?"

sebastian turned to look at you, "we're in for more trouble."

you groaned, leaning your head back as Sebastian's eyes seemed to darken; gluing your attention back to your slytherin friend, he continued, "i know that coast. Ranrok has taken over a huge mine and the surrounding area. Marunweem has suffered for it. It's as bad as Feldcroft's become."

with a sigh, your eyebrows knitted together and you looked at the triptych once more. sebastian glanced towards you, "should we head there now?

you shook your head, "no, we should wait."

sebastian immediately questioned you, "why?

you gave a grimanced look, "all this time, we've been a step behind ranrok. I may know someone who could help us get head."

sebastian raised an eyebrow, "who is that?"

before you could even think about formulating your answer a different way, the words slipped out, "a friendly goblin named lodgok. he wants no part in ranrok's fight."

sebastian immediately became disgusted, angry, even. "a friendly goblin?" he started, "you know goblins cursed my sister to shut her up! said she should 'be seen and not heard.'"

you took a step towards sebastian as he stepped back. taking a breath, you nodded, " i do, but not all goblins-"

he glared towards you, "not all goblins what? have you forgotten feldcroft? have you forgotten the mine we just went through?"

you sympathized with him, no doubt. you knew how close the twins were, how much Sebastian loved anne and cared for her - but this fight against ranrok was against all wizardkind, not just anne. and you knew she would understand.

shaking your head, you tried to reason with Sebastian, "no, sebastian, i haven't. you're not listening to me."

sebastian scoffed, "why would i listen to someone so ignorant?"

ouch.

you knew sebastian could be mean, cruel, but throughout these months of knowing him, he has only been so kind, sweet and soft with you. there was never any malice towards you, no anger or disgust. towards the goblins and ranrok in conversations with you, but it was never directed. it was understandable that what happened to anne was hurting Sebastian as well, but this anger was now at you, and he was changing.

you already had reservations working with lodgok before sirona ryan said you could trust him, but there was something he wasn't telling you. but it wasn't a secret that jeopardized your working relationship with him, no. if it had been, you would have turned your back and not worked with him another day.

it wasn't ignorant at all, you knew that. a bit sketchy at first, sure, but not ignorant. lodgok had proven himself trustworthy and has helped you in being one step ahead.

you stepped back in surprise, "that was cruel. perhaps your uncle was right about you - you don't know when to stop."

sebastian glowered over you, stepping forward as his words were laced with venom, "oh, i do know when to stop. unbelievable."

taking a deep breath, you turned and walked out of the undercroft, ready to scream. you understood where Sebastian was coming from but the way he talked to you was so...angering. maybe you should have lied about who it was, about what lodgok was.

but calling you ignorant? okay, yes, this was your first year learning about magic and catching up to the rest of your peers, but you earned respect and knew - for the most part - what you were doing. you would never intentionally put Sebastian, anne, ominis, whoever in danger if you were not confident.

with a sniffle, you made your way through the dark arts tower to your common room, ready to just cry about how upset and angry Sebastian was. but before you could, ominis's voice stopped you, "coming from the undercroft, are we?"

you turned around, eyes glassy with unshed tears - albeit glad that ominis couldn't see them. you gave a small smile, "oh, yes. we were just discussing a painting we found."

ominis hummed, not entirely satisfied with your answer, "your voice is shaky. what happened?"

you let out a breath, "i - we can't talk about it here, ominis. too open."

he sighed, and with his free hand, he grabbed your arm, pulling you towards an owl statue inside a small window, before it turned around and you found yourself...well, inside a wall at hogwarts.

before you had time to question ominis of where you were, he asked once more, "what happened?"

you explained everything, just leaving out the parts where Sebastian was intent on not stopping to find a cure for anne, but moreso focused on the triptych. when you revealed who lodgok was, ominis cringed.

"oh, that's not the worst part," you said, wiping a stray tear, "he asked why he should listen to someone so ignorant."

ominis winced once more, "yikes."

you grumbled, "tell me about it. i want to cry because, well, i understand why he is upset but lodgok is a lead to stopping ranrok, to being one step ahead."

your blind friend nodded, "agreed, and if sirona trusts him, that's saying something."

you both stood in silence, the occasional sniffle from your nose giving ominis hints of how much this bothered you.

"give him time to cool off," he began. "anne is a sore spot for him, but he needs to understand that she won't be the only one cursed without your goblin friend's help. you made your way into his heart, those that he cares about. you'll be fine."

you nodded, trying to formulate your words, "thank you, ominis. i apologize for putting you in the middle of this, but it was nice to have someone listen."

ominis smiled softly, "of course, y/n. meet you at dinner?"

with a quiet, "yeah," you watched ominis make his way out of the secret room, and once again, you were left with screaming thoughts. sobs immediately racked your body, regret aching from your tears and sore throat. there was nothing left by the time you were done, face dried with tears as you composed yourself.

taking a breath, you left the room and immediately looked down, seeing a letter by the 'door.' on the top left was ominis's handwriting, but the letter itself was unopened: told you he's gone soft for you.

with a pained sigh, you picked up the letter and opened it, reading the words:

we need to talk. undercroft after dinner?

"merlin's beard."

dinner was not something you could stomach at the moment, and to be honest with yourself, you were sure it could come right back up as you made your way to the undercroft. with a wave of your wand, you opened up the clock-looking door and headed inside, anxiety eating you up like a full-course meal.

sebastian had his back to you, staring intently at the triptych until he heard the door open. his eyes met yours immediately, and he softened.

"hi," he said, biting his lip nervously as you made your way over to him.

"sebastian, i-" you began, but he shook his head. with a small smile, he grabbed your hands and held them against his chest, "it's ok."

your eyes welled up with tears, "but it's not, seb. i should've been honest with you and i wasn't. I'm sorry, you have every right to hate me."

sebastian was silent as the tears fell down your cheeks until he wiped them away with his thumb. you sniffled, looking up at him. he grasped onto your hands once more, "you were hesitant to tell me because you know how much i care for anne, for my sister. you listen to me and want what is best - that has always been you. I'm not mad at you, dove. I'm mad at merlin for making that our last option."

you gave a sad excuse for a chuckle as he smiled at you. he continued, "dove, listen to me. I'm sorry for what i said. i know you aren't ignorant; i reacted harshly about your goblin friend, but you understand why?"

you immediately nodded, squeezing his hands, "of course, seb. i know how important it is for you to find a cure for anne, and i would never jeopardize that if there was a chance lodgok could betray us. but he's good, honest."

sebastian grinned, and you continued, "i'm not mad at you either, y'know. you're good to me, seb, and i was just scared i lost you."

he held your face between his hands, thumbs softly rubbing over your cheeks as he adored you, "you could never lose me, dove. you are one of the few good things left in my life and i'd be an idiot to let you go."

you swallowed a sob as tears clouded your vision, but Sebastian hushed you, "it's okay, sweetheart. we're okay - i trust you. promise."

you nodded and gave a small smile, "i trust you too, seb. promise."

leaning forward, sebastian nudged his nose with yours, and you giggled as he mumbled, "there's my pretty dove." and with that, Sebastian sealed your lips in a kiss, your hands wrapping around his neck as he grounded himself on your hips.

maybe you should send lodgok a thank you card.

[reasonsforhope]

Btw, if anyone cares to know, my position on Biden and the 2024 election is this:

Starting September* 1, 2024, I will be doing whatever I can to make sure that Trump does not get a second term as president

Until that day, I'm going to be doing whatever I can to push for an end to the genocide in Gaza and an immediate ceasefire, and that includes criticizing, protesting, and lambasting Biden for funding and providing weapons for Israel's genocide

ETA: I will still be posting about significant good things the Biden administration has done, though, because some of it is a really big deal that people deserve to know about

ETA: But I will not be defending Biden from any criticism around Palestine/Israel/war crimes

*This originally said October 1st but someone pointed out to me that there are a few states where early voting starts in late September, including a couple swing states, so I changed it because that's a very good point

I don't plan to tell anyone not to vote for Biden in the meantime, myself, because shitty two party system and I'm really serious about Trump not getting reelected

But I'm also not going to do anything to discourage people who are seriously rallying against Biden, because he is, you know, literally bypassing Congress to make sure he can fund crimes against humanity

I never want to diminish that reality.

And more than that: If we want genocide to actually be a dealbreaker for politicians and presidents... then we need to start acting like it could be.

--

Details/related thoughts:

I will still be posting about good things Biden and his administration are doing, because they are the ones running the US government and Congress is super deadlocked, so a lot of the national-level good news in the US has been done by his administration, and I'm not going to stop posting about that good news

Shout-out to the anon who accused me of being a US government propagandist with a whole PR team bc I posted about Biden a few days in a row. I promise you I'm blogging from my bed in my pjs and do not have a PR team lol

Also, for people who don't think we should be spreading serious criticism about Biden, for fear of Trump winning in 2024: I hear you--that's an incredibly valid fear. I've struggled with that myself, in the process of coming to this(/these) decision(s). But consider this: it's better that we really pile on the criticism and pressure now, because a) people are dying, and b) Biden's chances will be much worse if Israel is still bombing/decimating Gaza on election day

Relatedly, for anyone who's tempted to think Trump would be better when it comes to the Gaza genocide, again, it's really understandable to want to put your hope in any viable alternative. However, I promise you that is not going to happen. Joe Biden at least conditionally gives a couple shits about human life. Trump doesn't. Remember Trump's Muslim ban? In all likelihood, Trump would just tell Israel to bomb Gaza harder and ban Palestinian refugees from entering the US

Last thing on Trump: maybe this is naive of me, but for a lot of reasons, I'm not actually particularly worried about Trump winning in 2024. If I was, I might have made some different calls here. I have a few asks about this in my inbox and will probably make a post at some point about the reasons why, but yeah, Democrats have mostly been wanting to run against Trump instead of DeSantis or Haley or whoever for some very real reasons

You're welcome to disagree with me/this post in any direction, btw

Seriously, I'm just a random person who doesn't speak for anyone besides myself and my own blog. I'm not saying these are categorically the right answers, or that any of this is what everyone should be doing. This is simply the system I have settled on (right now) for how I personally want to handle all of this

You're welcome to disagree with me but please don't send me any angry asks about any of it. Not that I in any way get a lot of those, thankfully! But yeah, this isn't something I'm interested in debating, this is mostly for notification/explanation purposes

[inkbagel]

Idk why I decided to bring this up again but why are people so weird about llorumi

I’ve seen. So many posts where they’re MAKING OUT and the caption says “don’t tag this as a ship guys!!! I hate them as a ship don’t tag it as such I don’t agree wit that!!!” Which is so weird to me and if you do that PLEASE explain your reasonings (but like in a nice way or I’ll block you too)

Someone told me very aggressively that they don’t want it to get tagged as a ship bc they don’t want people to confuse abusive relationships as romantic even though they had a bunch of posts about the same kind of relationship with two men and they said it was romantic so nobody thinks this is what romance looks like which is probably doing the opposite of what you want it to do bc you’re basically telling people abusive relationships are the opposite of romance which is not true. How do you think it evolved into an abusive relationship.

The way I interpret that is saying romantic relationships CANNOT have any abuse in them which is extremely bad to tell people because most abusive relationships stem from romantic relationships and saying they don’t can lead to people staying in abusive relationships instead of getting the hell outta there.

Someone else also told me aggressively that friends can make out platonically which like. Okay man. Keep kissing your homies on the mouth. You do you. No homo tho obviously. I TOTALLY get it.

I’m mostly just ranting about random people who hate me instead of the actual topic so on the ACTUAL topic why do yall hate llorumi so much but LOVEE Toxic yaoi/yuri. Why is sora and jordana homoerotically stabbing each other to death better than Lloyd and harumi romantically stabbing each other to death. What’s the difference. “Oh but harumis abusive and horrible!” So are all your favorite male characters. Leave her alone you hate women and you’re woobifying Lloyd. You’re just a horrible person.

And for the final time if you disagree with me cool tell me why just don’t fucking call me an idiot again bc I don’t kiss my homies goodnight I’m happy to debate I’m not going to fight

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Fourteen

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: None… but the angst train has left the station

Notes: If you’re one of the sweet angels that left a comment on the taglist form, it makes my heart so happy - thank you! Please forgive me for the end of this chapter

Word Count: 1860

Series Masterlist

Reader

My entire summer was spent with the Cullens. Surprisingly enough, my mother didn’t protest it one bit, something about finally making friends. I was mostly monopolized by Jasper, but Alice had her fair share of stealing me away for girl’s nights with Esme and Rosalie.

Rosalie, talk about a tough nut to crack. I think at this point I’ve finally crested the mountain of hatred she feels towards her brothers’ “mortal liabilities” and I’m solidly in tolerable territory. She doesn’t outwardly mention her distaste anymore or avoid me like the plague, which I consider a definite win. I think Emmett is partially what wore her down besides Jasper’s lack of give a damn towards his sister’s opinions.

Befriending Alice has been as easy as breathing, she’s always there and might as well have Edward’s supernatural power of mind reading. I can tell her life has been lonely in the way she attaches herself to Bella and I, Rose isn’t the most social female and Esme is more of a mother figure than best friend. I’m grateful for her nonetheless, I’m not exactly flooded with friends myself - nor is whatever this thing is with Jasper an appropriate topic of conversation for anyone outside of this immediate circle.

Emmett has managed to become the older brother I wish I had and he takes that role incredibly serious for someone that’s always the comedic relief. Over the course of the last couple of months, I’ve figured out that he’s a big hugger, and a very good one at that. I’ve also noticed that he’s become my rock in a way - never backing down from a challenge, always hyping me up, and never passing judgement.

I still haven’t cracked the code for Edward. He’s quiet and shut off from the rest, not one for casual conversation or wasting time. And when he isn’t with Bella - well that’s wasting time in the worst way. Majority of our interactions are spent in comfortable silence, Jasper tells me it’s because I’m like a magnet in the way that my energy is calmer than most.

I like to think Jasper and I don’t make his family quite as nauseous as Edward and Bella do, but I know we have our moments… like his sisters insisting we sit apart for movie night because he most definitely cannot keep his hands to himself. The smug grin he had on his face along with his hands raised in surrender as his sisters berated him still makes me blush, damn him and his stupidly attractive smirk.

All summer long I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to realize that I’m human and he’s immortal, that I’m nothing in the grand scheme that is his life. It’s partially my fault for chickening out every time the topic of us rolls around, but my anxiety tends to get the better of me. God he is a patient man though, never pushing me and always in-tune to my feelings.

I’m absolutely head over heels for him but I can’t quite force those three little words of I love you past my lips. The confession simultaneously on the tip of my tongue and clogging up my throat.

Although he would disagree heavily, Jasper Hale is not a hard man to fall in love with. He struggles with his control from time to time, but when it comes to me - I can tell he’s different. He’s quiet in a way that’s patient and at-ease, instead of the closed-off way he was initially. His smile is softer around the edges, less forced than when he was trying for the sake of his adopted mother. His touch is instinct now, no longer robotic or unsure, but softer. He’s quicker to laugh, quicker to whisper sweet-nothings in my ear that make my cheeks hurt from smiling, quicker to reach for my hand when he needs an anchor.

I’ve never been more grateful for a split second of clumsiness on my first day at a new school.

• September 13th, 2005 • Forks HS •

Jasper

“A birthday party at your house?” Y/n asks, walking beside me before first period.

“Yes darlin’, I’m afraid my sister requires your attendance.” I continue to lead Y/n down the emptying hallway with a gentle hand on her back.

“I suppose I can spare you her wrath, but only if you pick me up tonight.” She glances up at me with a mischievous smile.

“Speak of the devil…” I mutter quietly while taking a deep breath, bracing myself for the quick footsteps approaching.

“I heard that!” Alice smacks the arm not around my girl. “I need your help.”

“Help with what?” Y/n asks quietly with a wrinkle in her beautiful brow, but I shake my head already knowing what my sister needs.

As Y/n and I stop at the bottom of the stairs, Edward and Isabella approach our small group as Alice vaults over the stair railing and skips forward in excitement, a neatly wrapped gift in her hands.

“Bella! Happy-”

“Shhh!” Bella stops her, the panic and embarrassment flooding from her almost drawing a laugh from me.

“-Birthday.” She finishes, quieter this time.

Bella flashes an exasperated look over Alice’s shoulder and I respond with a calming nod.

“Alice, didn’t I say no gifts?”

“You did, I didn’t.” My sister smarts back. “I’ve already seen you open it and guess what? You love it!”

Bella scoffs exasperated, but Alice interrupts her before she can object.

“You’re going to wear it tonight, our place.” At Bella’s hesitation she adds, “C’mon, please? It’ll be fun!”

Taking my que, I pull away her hesitation and replace it with a touch of acquiescence, gently in an effort to be inconspicuous.

“Okay, alright.” Powerless to my emotional regulation.

I notice a smile quirk the corner of Edward’s mouth, my brother exuding amusement - humored by our efforts to persuade his girlfriend.

A squeal of happiness leaks from my sister, “Great! I’ll see you at seven!” Spinning in our direction to make a quick getaway, we’re stopped by Bella.

“Jasper! No fair with the mood control thing.”

“Sorry Bella, Happy-“ but I let the sentiment die on my tongue at her exasperated look. “Never mind.”

Pushing my girl and gripping Alice by the elbow, I usher them away and towards class. I may be immortal, but a smart man knows when to let the women in his life win.

• September 13th, 2005 • Cullen Residence •

Reader

Waiting upstairs per Alice’s request to keep Bella company while she finished the final touches on decorations, roping my… Jasper into helping. Wondering over to where Edward and Bella are discussing a painting, I squint at who it contains.

“Is that, Carlisle?” Bella points out.

“Yeah, he lived with them for a few decades. He described them as refined, no respect for humans of course, but respect for the arts and the sciences at least.” He pauses, glancing between us before returning his eyes to the painting. “And the law, above all, the law.”

A shiver runs down my spine at the eerie way he explains the ancient vampires.

“Vampires have laws?” Bella’s tone takes on a rhetorical tone, but Edward answers nonetheless.

“Not very many. And only one that’s regularly enforced.”

“What is it?” The question comes from both of us this time.

“That we keep the existence of our kind a secret. We don’t make spectacles of ourselves. And we don’t kill conspicuously.” A sliver of panic runs through me as Jasper’s past flashes through my mind. “Unless of course you want to die.”

“You gotta stop talking about that. I can’t even think of someone hurting you.” Bella quietly and assertively tells him.

“Bella, the only thing that can hurt me is you.” As Edward turns to her, I gravitate towards the door to give them privacy. “I don’t have anything else to be afraid of.”

“That’s not true.”

“Victoria,” My mind immediately flashes back to the ballet studio, “She’ll come for me one day, Alice will see when she decides and we’ll be ready.”

Why had I not thought of that? Of course she’d come for us, the Cullens killed James because of us.

“I can protect you, if you change me.”

I try to contain my gasp, trying not to be obvious that I overheard her request. Her request to be changed.

“It’s time! It’s time, it's time, it's time!” Alice bounds into the room and I slip down the stairs before she can tug Bella away from Edward.

Jasper with eyebrows furrowed smooths a hand across my jaw to cradle my head as I step into his arms, sensing my clashing emotions. Alice interrupts him before he could ask why by bounding down the stairs and joining us.

I spin around to lean my back against Jasper as Edward leads Bella down to the living room, Carlisle and Esme are the first to greet them.

“Sorry about all this, we tried to reign Alice in.” Carlisle jokingly apologizes.

“Like that’s even possible.” Bringing Bella in for a hug with a sweet smile, “Happy birthday, Bella.”

Jasper’s hands find my hips and squeeze, I can tell he won’t let earlier go so easily, he cares too much for that.

Alice blindsides Bella with a flash of a camera, “Found it in your bag, mind?” She asks after snapping a picture of her and Edward together.

Emmett slides past us with a mischievous glint in his expression, causing Jasper to groan as his brother slides up next to Edward.

Nudging him, “Dating an older woman, hot.” Emmett teases.

Edward elbows him right back sharply to shut him up and I wince at the force.

“What?” He tries to play it off with innocence, but we all know he’s rather full of shit and I crack a smile at his antics.

Rosalie chooses then to rip the bandaid off and give Bella the first present of the evening, a small silver package. “A necklace. Alice picked it out.” Short and to the point, she steps away to rejoin Emmett causing Bella to smile.

Meeting our eyes across the room, she waves a greeting to Jasper that he returns silently.

Alice grabs a medium-sized present with a bow, “This one’s from Emmett.”

Bella shakes the suspiciously empty box and I try to cover my laugh at the look of confusion on her face.

“Already installed it in your truck.” He’s vibrating like an excited puppy, “Finally a decent sound system for that piece of crap-”

“Hey, don’t hate the truck.”

“Open Esme and Carlisle’s!” Alice thrusts the envelope into her hands.

“Just something to brighten your day.” Carlisle tells her as Esme steps forward.

“You’ve been looking kind of pale lately.” Esme hints with a smile.

Struggling to open the envelope, she finally tears through the paper.

But it isn’t the only thing that tears.

The droplet of blood that drips down her finger halts the breath in my lungs and the world feels as though it’s standing still. That is, until a thin arm wraps around my waist and my vision blurs.

Next

Teaser

Taglist:

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@min-jianhyung

@pbbsl

@timelordhunterandmysterysolver

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[ronniaugust]

How To Write Good Dialogue (Part 1)

I'm gonna start this by saying I'm not trying to sound like a know-it-all. I am just tired of posts like these being absolutely fucking useless. I am aware this is basically me screaming into a void and I’m more than okay with that.

This guide is meant for intermediate screenwriters, but beginners are also absolutely welcome. :)

(about me)

-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-

I've noticed a rise in film students who want to make films that have no dialogue. Probably after your professor showed you Doodlebug, right? Fuck that.

I'll make another post about writing a short film, but all you need to know is: Don't waste the audience’s time. Most of these no-dialogue shorts have very little substance and take way too long to tell the shortest possible story. Not a good idea.

Useless Dialogue

Plain and simple, don't write useless dialogue. Useless dialogue is dialogue that just doesn't fucking matter. Dialogue matters by having ✨subtext.✨

What is subtext? Subtext is the meaning behind the action. That's it.

If I tell you that I love you and I got big doe eyes while I say it, it means I love you. If I tell you I love you through a clenched jaw without looking at you, I don't necessarily love you right now.

Simple, right? Great.

Now think about the subtext behind every line. Does your character mean what they're saying? Are they doing it to get what they want? What is going through their mind as they say it? As long as you know your character, you’ll have these answers ready to go. If you don’t, you’ll figure it out eventually. Just keep writing.

When you write your character walking into a Starbucks and saying, "One venti iced coffee," does that do something? Why do I need to see someone's boring Starbucks order? Do I need to know that your character's boring? Why are you writing a boring character? [Of course, in the rare situation where this is some revealing clue to the massive crime investigation, then it makes sense.]

Useless dialogue is any dialogue that has no meaning or purpose in your script. Delete and move on. You don't need to write entire conversations or scenes that bore us, just write what we care about.

I took a class once where my professor called a version of this "trimming the fat." Get us into your scene and out of your scene in as little time as it takes to have it achieve its full purpose in the script.

[P.S. You don’t “inject” subtext into your lines. Idk who started that vernacular in subtext teachings but I hate it.]

Show vs. Tell

I remember a glorious fight I got into with a Redditor last year about show vs. tell… TL;DR: Dialogue is “show” if you write it with intention and subtext. If someone says that dialogue is inherently “tell,” they’re wrong and can go fuck themselves.

Dialogue that is “tell” is expositional dialogue. But, hot take: Exposition isn't just in dialogue. It’s also those annoying clichés that make you roll your eyes in the theater (which we just call clichés and not exposition). I’m sure every professor I’ve had will disagree with this and then get me into a long conversation about it, but let’s ignore that for right now.

Have you ever seen a movie where a character rubs an old, worn-out photo of a young girl while looking depressed? That's exposition. That character has a dead daughter. No shit.

Clichés are incredibly annoying. We all know that. Assume that any cliché you see - in this context - is exposition and try your best not to write it. (Tropes are different and sometimes necessary, so I’m not talking about that.)

Point blank: When you have subtext in your lines, they are "show,” not “tell.”

Before moving on, I'll bring up that while technically the dead daughter photo is subtextual, it is as close to the character saying “My daughter is dead,” as you can get. Don't treat the audience like we're fucking stupid.

The First 15

If you don’t know what the Inciting Incident is, please look up “3 Act Structure” before reading this.

The first 15 pages of your script is the part that comes before the Inciting Incident. This is the part you want to get right because, although people probably won’t leave the theater, they will absolutely find something else on the streaming service they’re using. The people making said movie will also just toss your script in the trash before it’s even produced, so it's best to get it right.

Dialogue in the first 15 generally follows the same rules, but carries a heftier additional rule. All dialogue in the first 15 minutes must, must, must tell us something about your character.

Remember when I talked about that boring Starbucks order? Why is your character boring? Don’t write that. Don’t write nice characters. Or pleasant characters. Or friendly characters. No one cares.

You want empathy. This does not mean “relatable.” It means “empathetic.” There is a difference.

I personally relate to Vi in Arcane, but I empathize with Theo in Children of Men. Both are excellent, but one personally resonates a bit more with me. You cannot write a character that deeply resonates with every single person, it is impossible.

With each line of dialogue, you must be saying something about your character that generates the empathy. Instead of telling you how to do this, I’ll direct you to a movie that will do better than an explanation: Casablanca.

Watch how Rick interacts with the world. What kind of man is Rick? Watch what he does, what he says, and how he treats people and himself. Watch that empty glass on the table. Watch his contradictions. Everything. Those things matter and it’s what makes you want to watch Rick for the entire duration of Casablanca.

“Realism”

This is maybe more directorial, but make your characters human enough, not too human.

Too human is when you’ve tried your best to capture all those little life-like speech patterns. You know, the ones that no one fucking cares about.

If your character coughs, they’re sick. If they clear they’re throat, they’re uncomfortable. If a bruise isn’t going away, they’re going to die. Simple.

Every moment on screen matters. Everything the audience sees is meant to lead them to a conclusion. Not the conclusion, just a conclusion.

The realism you want is in the choices your character makes, not how many times they say “Uh,” in a sentence.

Conclusion

Dialogue matters and should not be treated lightly or without care. Once you have this all engrained in your mind, dialogue should become effortless.

If you want an excellent way to think about this, Robert McKee's Story has an excellent chapter that helped clarify this all for me. Here's an excerpt and the context.

Warning, spoilers for Chinatown.

"If I were Gittes at this moment, what would I do?"

Letting your imagination roam, the answer comes:

"Rehearse. I always rehearse in my head before taking on life's big confrontations."

Now work deeper into Gittes's emotions and psyche:

Hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, thoughts racing: "She killed him, then used me. She lied to me, came on to me. Man, I fell for her. My guts are in a knot, but I'll be cool. I'll stroll to the door, step in and accuse her. She lies. I send for the cops. She plays innocent, a few tears. But I stay ice cold, show her Mulwray's glasses, then lay out how she did it, step by step, as if I was there. She con-fesses. I turn her over to Escobar; I'm off the hook."

EXT. BUNGALOW-SANTA MONICA

Gittes' car speeds into the driveway.

You continue working from inside Gittes' pov, thinking:

"I'll be cool, I'll be cool ..." Suddenly, with the sight of her house, an image of Evelyn flashes in your imagination. A rush of anger. A gap cracks open between your cool resolve and your fury.

The Buick SCREECHES to a halt. Gittes jumps out.

"To hell with her!"

Gittes SLAMS the car door and bolts up the steps.

Story by Robert McKee, pg 156

The context of this page is McKee's way of explaining how to write characters. I found it very helpful.

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Thanks for reading! I probably forgot something, so I made this a “part 1.”

I hope this helps someone since I’m really tired of finding short films on YouTube that are all fucking silent. The few who have done it well have been copied to death, so please write some dialogue. I promise you it’s so much better if you do.

Asks are open! :)