#it might be me not picking things that make it more useful though

[roselilies]

"Are you trying to distract the curses, or me?"

The playful lilt in Gojo’s voice made the blood rush to your face before you could even turn to look at him. You had barely stepped into the training grounds when his signature white hair and too-casual stance came into view. Today, the uniform skirt you were wearing was a little shorter than usual, though not short enough to warrant his teasing.

“Excuse me?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Why would I need to distract you when you’re already distracted all the time?”

Gojo’s grin widened behind his blindfold, and he took a deliberate step closer. His hands slid into his pockets, the picture of effortless confidence. “Oh, I’m very focused. On you, that is.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped at his words. “Don’t you have anything better to do than harass me?”

“Nope. You’re the highlight of my day, baby.”

The nickname made you falter for a split second, though you quickly covered it up by turning away and pretending to examine your nails. Don’t let him get to you, you told yourself. It’s just Gojo being Gojo.

But that was easier said than done. He had a way of getting under your skin, of making every casual interaction feel loaded with some unspoken tension. The worst part? You weren’t entirely sure he didn’t do it on purpose.

“If you’re going to stand there and flirt, the least you can do is help me set up,” you said, gesturing to the training equipment scattered around the field.

Gojo laughed, the sound warm and slightly obnoxious. “Of course, anything for you.”

Before you could blink, he was suddenly at your side, picking up a set of practice dummies as if they weighed nothing. The proximity caught you off guard, and you found yourself hyper-aware of the way his shoulder brushed against yours. Damn it, why does he smell so good?

“You’re awfully quiet,” he teased, leaning just a little too close. “Am I making you nervous?”

“In your dreams,” you shot back, shoving a dummy into his chest with more force than necessary.

Gojo caught it effortlessly, laughing again as if he enjoyed your annoyance. “I dream about you all the time, actually.”

You groaned, trying to mask the flutter in your chest. “Why do I even talk to you?”

“Because you love me,” he said matter-of-factly, his grin impossibly smug. “But don’t worry, I’ll wait for you to admit it.”

You shook your head, biting back a retort as you turned your attention to the field. His teasing was relentless, and you hated how much you secretly looked forward to it. Gojo Satoru had this annoying charm, this magnetism that made him impossible to ignore. He knew it too, and used it to his advantage every chance he got.

“Alright, focus,” you said, pointing at the dummies. “We’ve got to run these drills before the others arrive.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he said with a mock salute, the smirk on his lips audible in his tone.

Ignoring the way your heart skipped at the nickname, you moved to the center of the field. As you began demonstrating the first sequence, you felt Gojo’s gaze on you, heavy and unapologetically lingering. It was like he wanted you to notice.

“Gojo, stop staring,” you snapped without looking at him, your voice sharper than you intended.

“Why? You look good,” he shot back, unbothered. “The uniform suits you. Especially the skirt.”

You froze mid-step, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Why thank you, but you’re impossible.”

“And you’re cute when you’re flustered,” he said, his tone softening slightly, almost fond.

That caught you off guard. Usually, his comments were light and playful, but this felt different, more intentional. You turned to face him, trying to gauge whether he was just messing with you again. His expression, though hidden behind the blindfold, seemed uncharacteristically sincere.

“Why do you do that?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“Do what?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Say things like that.”

Gojo paused, and for a moment, you thought he might deflect like he always did. But then his lips curved into a smaller, softer smile.

“Because I mean it.”

The simplicity of his answer left you speechless. You searched his face for any sign of a joke, a smirk, something to suggest he wasn’t being serious. But all you found was an openness that made your chest tighten.

“...You’re so annoying,” you muttered, looking away to hide your embarrassment.

Gojo laughed, the sound lighter than usual. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Don’t.”

“Too late.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping slightly as he added, “But seriously, you look amazing today. Not just today, though. Always.”

You hated how easily his words got to you, how they made you feel warm in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“Whatever,” you mumbled, turning back to the equipment. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Anything you say, baby,” he replied, but there was something gentler in his tone now—something that made you think maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t entirely joking.

A/N: Gojo I will always love you.

[concerningwolves]

Not only is this allowed but it's something i encourage all writers of any kind to play with! :D

The idea that all writers know what to say all the time and just splash fully-formed drafts out one word after the other is false. There are some who can do it, but i think most of us... can't. Which is why we need tricks like square bracket notes! They're not cheats or lazy writing or some other flavour of Not Allowed, but instead really really important tools that we should use as much as we need to.

Some of the most helpful tricks I've collected over the years are:

make some notes in square brackets – e.g., I had to write a scene on a sailboat, but I know nothing about sailing so i literally just had notes like [boat part] and [how to do X thing?]. If you use square brackets as punctuation anyway, use something else like [[double square brackets]] or a unique letter combination like XY at the start of the note; the point is to pick something you can search for easily later on.

(You can also style inline comments in a different font/colour. Scrivener has an inline annotation feature; if you use Word, you can make a specific Style to make notes stand out at a glance, etc.)

bullet-point your way through any tricky parts – this can be pure stream-of-consciousness vague ideas. it only needs to make sense to me later. much more helpful than just leaving big blank gaps that Future Me has to work out how to fill, but also better than dwelling on a piece of writing forever.

use comment tools – mostly do this if I have ideas for alternate events and/or phrasing, or if I want to check something for continuity purposes.

write out of order – Best advice i ever got for academic writing is to know or even write your conclusion first and your introduction last, which your main argument in between. Similar principles apply in fiction, or any kind of creative writing. If there's a part of the essay that I can visualise clearly or a part of the story that is particularly exciting or important, I might write that first, then figure out how it fits/how everything fits around it.

keep a loose scenes and/or "outtakes" folder – anything that i write out of order goes here, along with any notes for how I think I want to incorporate it into the full text. In the same vein, if I delete something but don't know for sure it will never be relevent ever again, it gets cut and pasted into an outtakes folder.

Basic rule though is that you do not have to get your writing perfect on the first try. This is where drafts come in. The way I see it is to treat each draft as a fresh start – I create/open a new document (well, new Scrivener file) and start over as if from scratch. Each draft gets a narrower focus than the last. This is my process, as an example:

first draft is the word vomit. You do whatever you need to do to get it onto the page, and it can be terrible. In fact, it probably should be terrible. You can fix everything later. it's fine.

The second draft is a half-hearted cleanup attempt. I'll re-type everything because everything is subject to change, from the characters' personalities to the pacing to the order of events. It's all primordial goop, basically. i'm just poking and prodding and making a few adjustments, but mostly trying to create a more stable version of the first draft. All shortcut tricks continue to be my best friend.

By draft three I'll let myself copy-paste between documents if I'm particularly happy with a passage, but try not to get hung up on anything specific. I'll still make liberal use of square brackets etc. as I need to, but try to address as many from the previous draft as I can. This is where I get more brutal with making decisions and trying to fix parts of the story in place.

Draft four is usually my final draft, but there's literally no rules about how many drafts you're allowed to write. It's at this point that I try to keep square brackets etc. to a minimum (unless i've diverged significantly from the plot of a previous draft and having to rewrite large chunks), and make sure to address all the notes and problems encountered in previous drafts.

This is when I move on to revisions. Revisions are the "final do-overs", for me. I start them when I'm satisfied with all the large-scale aspects: plot and chronology; characters' personalities, motivations and arcs; large-scale pacing (so the over-arcing pace, rather than the pacing in individual scenes); backstories; and worldbuilding. I'll copy the last draft's document instead of starting with a blank one. First I run through those large scale things one more time and tweak until I'm happy, not just satisfied. Then I shrink my focus to in-scene pacing, dialogue, and the quality of the writing itself.

I'll also rewrite my plot outline between each draft, too. The act of actually re-writing stuff is very helpful for making your brain think about it.

Drafting like this isn't for everyone, but realising that you can just bullshit your way through chunks of text was a massive game-changer for me. Some people will do a draft, then work on something else, then come back and do another draft, work on something else, etc. Some people's drafting process will look more like what I consider to be revisions. Do whatever works for you. Just remember that from the moment you first decide you Want to Write a Thing to the moment you hit "post" or "publish" or give your manuscript over to a publisher, you can keep making as many changes as you like in any way you like. (And if you go the querying to traditional publishing route, you'll probably get suggestions for, and have space/time to make, changes to the manuscript quite far into the process).

favourite things about first drafts:

square brackets with notes to self mid-line like [does this make sense with worldbuilding?]

ah yes, Main Character and their closest friends, Unnamed Character A and Unnamed Character B.

bullshitting your way through something that you probably definitely need to research later

also square brackets to link up scenes. [scene transition idk] my beloved

the total freedom of word vomits

"I'll fix that later"

the moment when the world and characters start to gain a life of their own

pieces falling into place as you write that you were uncertain about before you started

the accomplishment of Made A Thing

[enderlovez]

can you write another kindergarten teacher!reader x spencer where he comes in as like a special guest to read to her students🥹 and then he stays to eat lunch with her

Story Time

Spencer Reid x Kindergarten Teacher Reader WORD COUNT: 1000+

Summary: Spencer comes and reads to your students for storytime.

Content Warning: Maybe some spelling errors, but otherwise nothing. I actually love writing kindergarten teacher reader x Spencer!!! It makes me feel all warm and happy inside

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The buzz of the classroom feels electric today, like a thousand tiny bees flitting through the air. Your students can hardly stay in their seats, their excitement nearly bubbling over as you explain that you'll be having a very special guest joining you for storytime today.

Of course, they don't know who it is yet. That's the surprise.

"Miss Y/N, is it a prince?" asks Lily, her shiny brown eyes wide and hopeful.

"Or a pirate?" chimes in Jacob, swinging around an imaginary sword.

You smile and shake your head. "Not quite. But he is one of my favorite people, and I think you're all going to love him, too."

As if on cue, there's a light knock on the rainbow-painted door. Your stomach flips as you walk over to open it.

Standing there, with his ever-disheveled hair and a stack of children's books in his arms, is Spencer.

He's wearing one of his signature mismatched outfits that always sort of remind you of something an old man would wear—a brown cardigan over a cream colored shirt—and the way his eyes light up when he sees you makes your cheeks flush a little.

"Hi," he says softly, like you're the only two people in the room.

"Hi," you whisper back, before stepping aside to let him in.

The kids immediately erupt into whispers and giggles. Spencer shifts awkwardly under their gaze, but he smiles warmly as I introduce him.

"Everyone, this is Doctor Reid. He's a very smart friend of mine who knows a lot about books, so I thought he'd be the perfect person to read to us today!"

Spencer waves shyly. "Hi, everyone. You can call me Spencer if you want."

Lily raises her hand without hesitation. "Are you Miss Y/N's boyfriend? Are you married? Do you have any babies?"

Spencer's eyes widen, and you feel your face go hot—really, this is something you should have anticipated.

"Lily!" you laugh nervously, twiddling your thumbs. "That's not a question for storytime."

She shrugs, unapologetic. Spencer, bless him, just clears his throat as adjusts his grip on the books.

"I bought a few options," he says, holding them up like they're treasure. "We have The Very Hungry Caterpillar, Where the Wild Things Are, and The Day the Crayons Quit. Any favorites."

The room fills with an enthusiastic chorus of opinions, but Spencer handles it like a pro, tallying votes on the whiteboard until we have a winner: Where the Wild Things Are.

He settles into the big reading chair at the front of the room, his long legs awkwardly folded up beneath him, and adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

The kids gather on the carpet, leaning forward with rapt attention as he begins.

Spencer's voice is soft, each word carrying a rhythm that draws the kids—and you, despite the fact that you've already read this book countless times—into the story, though that might just be because you enjoy listening to his voice so much.

By the time he closes the book and sets it aside, the room erupts into cheers. "That was so cool!" Jacob shouts, jumping to his feet.

"Can you read another one?" Lily pleads, clasping her hands together and mustering up the best puppy eyes she can—she doesn't have to try very hard.

Five year olds. So easy to please.

Spencer glances at you, and you nod. "One more," you say. "Then it's lunchtime."

This time, he picks The Day the Crayons Quit, and the kids laugh hysterically at the sassy letters from the crayons.

Spencer even gets a short round of applause when he finished reading and closes the picture book, his cheeks pink as he smiles and thanks them.

"Okay, everyone," you announce, clapping your hands together. "Time to wash up for lunch!"

The kids scramble to line up at the sink, still chatting quietly with one another—partly about the stories, but mostly about how awesome Spencer is.

He stands by the reading chair, watching them with a mix of amusement and awe.

"You're a hit," you tease, stepping beside him.

"I think they like me more than you," he replies, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

"Don't get cocky," you say, nudging him gently.

As the kids settle at their tables with their lunches, you lead Spencer to your desk in the corner, where you've set up a couple of chairs. "So you're staying, right?" you ask, trying to sound casual.

"If you'll have me," he says, pulling out the chair across from yours.

Your desk is decorated with little figurines and gadgets, ranging from tiny animal toys blue-tacked down to the lid of a container, to a photo frame filled with pressed flowers, to a small collected of little painted rocks. It reminds Spencer a lot of Garcia's office. Colorful.

You hand him the sandwich you made for him earlier, and his eyebrows lift in surprise. "You didn't have to do that."

"I know," you say, ducking your head. "But I wanted to."

You eat quietly for a moment, the sound of the kids' laughter and chatter enough to fill the space around the both of you.

Spencer watches them with a small smile, and you can't help but admire the way he fits so seamlessly into your little world. Most people would get overwhelmed, being in a room with so many little children—and it just so happens that your boyfriend isn't one of those people.

How did you get so lucky?

"They're great," he says after a while.

"They are," you agree. "A handful, but great all the same."

He looks at you then, his gaze soft and searching. "I can see why you love this so much. And I can see why they love you so much."

Your breath catches, but before you can respond with something sappy that'll more than likely make you cry, Jacob bounds over to your desk.

"Miss Y/N, can Mister Spencer come back tomorrow?"

Spencer chuckles, glancing at me like he's looking for permission.

"We'll see," you say, ruffling Jacob's hair. "If he's not too busy saving the world, maybe he can visit again."

"Promise?" Jacob asks, directing the question at Spencer.

Spencer holds up his pinky, and Jacob eagerly hooks his own tiny pinky finger around it. "Promise," Spencer says.

As Jacob runs back to his table, Spencer leans toward you, his voice low and almost a little uncertain.

"When can we have one of our own?"

[writeriguess]

Loudmouths Get What's Coming // Katsuki x fem!reader

author's note: for everyone who has ever experienced catcalling, know that you deserve to feel safe, respected, and protected. <3

The sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the city in hues of orange and pink. You were walking home with Katsuki after a casual outing, the bag of snacks you’d picked up swinging lightly in your hand. The evening air was brisk but pleasant, carrying the faint scent of street food and blooming flowers. Katsuki’s gruff voice filled the space between you, cutting through the gentle hum of the city.

“I told you not to order that, Katsuki. You knew it was going to be spicy!” you teased, your laughter bubbling out as you glanced at him.

“Shut it,” he grumbled, glaring at you out of the corner of his eye, though the faint smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. “You’re lucky I didn’t blow up that whole damn place.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile still playing on your lips. Despite his usual bluster, you knew he’d enjoyed himself—not that he’d ever admit it.

The streets were alive with the sounds of the city—distant chatter, the hum of traffic, and the occasional bark of a dog. The two of you strolled in comfortable silence for a while, basking in the warmth of each other’s presence. That is, until a group of men loitering near the entrance of a convenience store broke the peace.

“Hey, gorgeous,” one of them called, his voice dripping with smug confidence. “Where’re you headed looking that fine?”

Your steps faltered, your stomach sinking as unease washed over you. You kept your gaze forward, gripping the bag in your hand a little tighter.

“Bet she’d look even better outta that jacket,” another one said, his tone laced with sleaze. His friends erupted in laughter, the sound grating against your nerves.

“You should ditch the blond and come hang out with us,” another chimed in, his eyes raking over you in a way that made your skin crawl. “We’d treat you real good, baby.”

You felt your cheeks flush, not with embarrassment, but with a mix of discomfort and anger. The air seemed to thicken around you, and you didn’t need to look at Katsuki to know he’d heard every word. His footsteps stopped abruptly, and the atmosphere shifted, the tension around him palpable.

“What the hell did you just say?” Katsuki’s voice was low, dangerous, and laced with a venom that sent shivers down your spine. You turned to look at him, and his crimson eyes were locked on the group of men, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might snap.

One of the men—the apparent ringleader—smirked, holding up his hands as if in mock surrender. “Relax, man. We’re just giving her a few compliments. No harm done.”

Katsuki’s lips curled into a snarl, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Compliments?” he spat, his voice dripping with contempt. “Sounds more like a bunch of garbage to me.”

Another man snickered. “C’mon, don’t be so uptight. It’s not like she minds. Right, sweetheart?” His eyes darted to you, his leer making your stomach churn. “Bet you’re real fun behind closed doors, huh?”

The lewd comment made your heart race with a mix of anger and anxiety. You squeezed the bag in your hand tightly, fighting the urge to snap back.

“Katsuki, it’s fine,” you murmured, trying to diffuse the tension. Your fingers brushed against his arm, a silent plea for him to let it go. “Let’s just go.”

But Katsuki wasn’t having it. His gaze didn’t waver from the group, and you could see the faintest sparks crackling around his palms. The men shifted uncomfortably, clearly realizing they’d picked the wrong person to mess with.

“Go ahead,” Katsuki growled, taking a menacing step forward. “Say one more thing. I dare you.”

“Hey, chill out, man,” one of them muttered, his bravado faltering under Katsuki’s glare. “No need to get all worked up.”

“Worked up?” Katsuki’s voice was a dangerous hiss. “You idiots don’t know when to shut the hell up.” His hands flexed, and for a moment, you thought he might actually use his Quirk.

The group exchanged nervous glances, their earlier confidence crumbling. The ringleader scoffed, muttering something under his breath before turning to walk away. “Dude’s crazy,” he mumbled, loud enough for Katsuki to hear.

Katsuki’s shoulders tensed, but he let out a sharp breath, forcing himself to stay put. He stood his ground until they were out of sight, the tension in his body only slightly easing.

“Damn extras,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. His hands were still clenched into fists, and his breathing was heavier than usual.

You placed a gentle hand on his arm, drawing his attention back to you. “Katsuki, it’s okay. They’re gone now.”

He turned to you, his crimson eyes softening just a fraction as they scanned your face. “You okay?” he asked, his voice gruff but laced with concern.

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “Yeah. Thanks for standing up for me.”

“Tch. Like I’d let those idiots get away with talking to you like that,” he said, crossing his arms. His gaze flickered away briefly, and you caught the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks.

Your heart swelled at his protectiveness, and without thinking, you reached for his hand, your fingers lacing through his. He stiffened for a moment, his eyes darting to your joined hands, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his grip tightened, firm and reassuring.

“Let’s get you home,” he muttered, his tone softer now. He led you down the street, his presence solid and unwavering beside you.

The walk continued in relative silence, the earlier tension gradually melting away. As you moved through the familiar streets, the hum of the city became a distant background noise. Katsuki’s hand stayed firmly in yours, his grip neither too tight nor too loose, a quiet reassurance that he was there. The warmth of his palm against yours made your heart beat just a little faster, though you’d never admit it aloud.

After a while, you glanced up at him, catching the way his crimson eyes seemed to scan the area, always on alert. Despite his rough exterior, he had an innate protectiveness that you found endearing.

“You’re kinda sweet, you know that?” you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t push your luck.”

But the faint smile tugging at his lips told you everything you needed to know.

By the time you reached your doorstep, the unease from earlier had all but faded. Katsuki lingered for a moment as you unlocked the door, his gaze briefly scanning the quiet street behind you. He didn’t say much, but the way he waited until you were safely inside spoke volumes.

“Night, Katsuki,” you said softly, peeking out from the doorway. “Thanks again.”

He gave a sharp nod, his usual gruff demeanor returning. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t mention it.”

As he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but smile. Despite his fiery temper and sharp tongue, Katsuki Bakugo had a heart of gold, and moments like this made you feel incredibly lucky to know him.

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

MOVIES, KISSES, AND BIRTHDAY CAKE

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem! Summary: a few days into being the new 'freak' in school, you come to find out the truth. Though, Eddie doesn't seem to like that truth. Warnings: none. A/N: IN HONOUR FOR THE WONDERFUL JOSEPH'S BIRTHDAY! AHH.

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Series Masterlist

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The bell chimed above you as you walked through the glass door of family video.

Your eyes scanned the store, looking for Robin, perhaps, you weren't entirely sure, because you knew where the movie you were here for was.

You wouldn't expect many people on a Wednesday afternoon at 5pm.

So, for you to be the only person in the store is probably why there were no workers at the front.

You walked to the left to the romance section, looking at the sea of bright colours of all the lined-up VHS tapes.

You picked up Sixteen Candles and looked around again when you walked up to the counter.

The doorbell rang behind you and you turned, seeing a teen around your age look at you and frown before going to the Horror section.

You had gotten used to these looks over the past week, the party being almost 2 weeks ago.

The first day or two you had sat by yourself, finding yourself with no friends before you decided to embrace being the new freak in school.

So, you took Eddie up on his offer, finding a seat on the Hellfire table.

The rest of the club were skeptical about you at first, Though Eddie made sure they made you feel welcome after the next lunch break.

It was awkward at first, being friends with a bunch of guys, one being someone that you found yourself thinking about way too often.

After Monday, 2 days after the party where you had a go at Eddie for the spread rumour, you hadn't brought it up again, afraid that it would cause more damage than good, and seen as though you found yourself in his friend group, and that he took you in, you figured you should keep him happy so at least you'd have friends for the next few months before you graduate.

Steve had entered the store from the back, smiling as he saw you.

"Well, if it isn't miss party rocker" He smiled, typing onto the computer

You frowned, tilting your head, looking behind you to make sure he's talking to you. When you realise, he is you look back at him, still confused

"I'm sorry?" you raised your eyebrows, leaning on the counter

"Lewenski's party? you were going pretty hard that night" he chuckles, scanning your VHS tape.

Your face visibly relaxed when you realised, he might have heard that rumour...or-

"You were there?" you questioned, leaning closer

He nodded his head, placing the tape down with a smile

"Yeah, mostly in the backyard smoking, but yeah"

You opened your mouth, wanting to say so many things, but he cut you off

"You were pretty drunk, so I don't expect you to remember bumping into me, literally, but y'know. didn't take you as the one to get high with the town freak" Steve tapped the desk, shrugging

you looked around, not seeing the boy that came in a minute ago, he's probably going to the 18 plus section, behind the curtain, which is why you leaned away, shifting on your feet.

"You didn't happen to see me with Eddie that night, did you?" you asked, really hoping that Steve had the answers you needed to hear

He nodded again "yeah, you were with him for a while outside, who did you think you got high with?"

You raised your eyebrows again, trying to hide your smile.

He went to say something when you cut him off, hurriedly talking

"-didyouseemeandeddiemakingout?" you huffed

He tilted his head, his eyes widened, and he let out a chuckle "what was that?"

You sighed "did you see me and Eddie making out at any point of the night?"

he shook his head, his lips in a thin line as he thought about your question "no"

Steve was so confused, now that he was out of high school, the only way he got gossip about that stuff was through the kids- mostly Dustin.

Which is mostly why Steve went to the party, to feel like he once did in school, to get himself in the inside scoop of what was Hawkins high.

He had no memory of you two kissing or making out, and he would never peg you as the type to go after Eddie Munson

"I wasn't exactly watching you or anything- but actually" he swallowed, his fingers pausing the tapping as he looked at you weirdly.

This was it, the answers to your questions, the truth behind why you were a freak.

"I did see you go in to kiss him, though, but he stopped you- probably because he wasn't drunk" he nodded "but you seemed pretty upset about it, actually, stormed away, if I remember correctly"

You felt a weight on your shoulder lift, and you closed your eyes in relief, this was such good news, you never made out with Eddie.

You weren't a freak.

But deep down, you knew it was too late, nothing you could do or say would make any difference, you were a freak.

It was just nice to know the truth, even if no one else would care for it.

But as much as you were happy, you were embarrassed that even drunk you wanted to kiss Eddie stupid.

At this point you thought you were sick, a little under the weather because why would you want to kiss Eddie Munson so much you want to when you're drunk?

You'd have enough of it.

You quickly paid for the tape and rushed out of the store, going over to Eddie's trailer.

You'd never been there before, and you don't think he knew you knew which trailer he lived in.

You had only known about it when visiting Max one night, seeing him pull up with deafening loud music blasting.

So, you drove to Eddie's, planning to tell him the truth, thinking he'd be happy knowing it just as much as you are.

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You walked up the creaky steps to Eddie's trailer, unsure of what to expect, but you were determined to share the good news. You were almost giddy with the thought that you hadn’t actually made out with Eddie at the party. It was a small victory, but it was something you needed to share with him.

You knocked on the door, nervously shifting on your feet. It was then that the door swung open, revealing Eddie, looking somewhat surprised to see you standing there.

"Oh...hey" He smiled brightly

"Hi" you beamed

"Out of all the club, I would've expected Dustin to show up for my Birthday, not you" He shook his head, looking behind you

You frowned, trying to rack your brain

"Come in, I just ordered a pizza, so I hope you like pepperoni, if you want cake you'll have to wait until 11... That's when Wayne gets back from the plant so...Though... I uh- I don't expect you to stay that long..."

You stepped through the door when he moved out of the way.

You were so confused, until you remembered a few days ago it was briefly mentioned when you were too busy staring at his lips.

It's weird how you got so defensive and upset about the thought of you two making out, when all you want to do a lot of the day when you're with him is kiss him.

"Oh" you chuckled dryly, looking around the trailer that was his home "yeah, happy birthday!" you smiled

He grinned "thanks, sweetheart"

You blushed, feeling nervous and a little guilty as he guided you to sit on the couch

"Want some of the good stuff?" he said, walking down the hall

"Sure, I uh- I have a movie in the car if you want me to get it?" you nodded, getting up when he laughed

"Is it some cheesy romance?" he asked, peeking his head out of his room, a wide smile on his face, dimples on show as his hair hangs.

You shake your head, trying to suppress your smile, knowing you're lying.

He rolls his eyes, groaning "fine-UH" he said, dragging out the syllable

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"Sorry! No, no way," Eddie shook his head quickly, waving a dismissive hand and grabbing the remote to pause the screen just as Sam and Jake leaned in to kiss.

The frozen frame captured the couple mid-embrace, the soft glow of the TV light flickering against Eddie's disapproving expression. a greasy pizza box on the floor crimpling as he moved his foot to kick it away.

"They’re just kissing," you scoffed, furrowing your eyebrows as you leaned back against the couch. The worn fabric pressed into your shoulder blades, and you crossed your arms, giving him a pointed look.

"Yeah," he huffed, almost indignantly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I don’t want to see it."

"Oh, you’re just salty that you’re twenty and still a virgin to everything," you teased, throwing an exaggerated grin his way as you sank further into the cushions. “And besides, you’re lucky this is the ending scene.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed, his lips twisting into a scowl. “Excuse me? No! And to what I’ve heard, we’ve made out, so I’m not a virgin to that, am I?”

He leaned back into the couch, crossing his arms in defiance as his gaze flickered to the TV, clearly trying to act unaffected.

You couldn’t help but smile, finding his irritation oddly endearing. “Oh yeah! No- I totally forgot- which is weird because it’s literally what I came here to tell you. We didn’t make out!”

Eddie’s frown deepened, and he leaned away from you, his brows knitting together.

He licked his lips, his gaze drifting to the side as he processed your words. “Did we think we did?”

You tilted your head, watching his confusion with a small shake of your head. “Well... for a second, I thought maybe we did... but I found out from Steve-”

That set him off. Eddie snapped his head back to you, his dark eyes glaring. He shot up from the couch in one fluid motion, pacing a few steps before spinning on his heel to face you.

“Oh, Steve? How does he know anything?” His voice was sharp, almost accusing, as he ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair, his rings catching the dim light of the room.

“W-well, I went by Family Video,” you stammered, sitting up straighter. “And he was working, and he was at the party, so I asked him, and he said we didn’t, so- that’s- that’s why I came here... to tell you!”

You didn’t understand why Eddie seemed upset. His shoulders were tense, his jaw set, but the news felt like a relief to you. So why didn’t he feel the same way? You kept the smile on your face, trying to hold on to that positivity.

Eddie turned to you, his expression unreadable as he glared at you, his voice suddenly quieter but no less biting. “I thought you came here for my birthday?”

The words hit you like a weight to the chest. You blinked, your mouth opening as if to explain, but the guilt tangled your tongue.

“You didn’t even remember, did you?” he mumbled, his face dropping as he shook his head, almost laughing in disbelief.

“Eddie, no-I-I did! I just-” You sighed, searching for the words. “I thought this was good news.”

Eddie’s laugh was humorless, and he threw his hands in the air as he walked dramatically across the room. His steps were heavy, the floor creaking under his boots. “Good news? That what, turns out you aren’t a freak so you can throw my name under the bus and get your friends back?!”

“What?!” you shot back, standing up now, your voice rising with frustration. “What are you talking about, Eddie?”

He closed the distance between you in three quick strides, leaning down so his face was inches from yours, his finger pointing accusingly.

“I bet you’re happy, though, huh? That you didn’t kiss a freak, right?”

His words stung, and for a moment, you froze, your thoughts spinning back to what Steve told you at the video store. You remembered him saying you’d leaned in to kiss Eddie, and Eddie had stopped you. Eddie wasn’t drunk that night, so...

“How do you not remember that night?” you murmured, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Eddie’s glare didn’t falter, but his confusion was evident in the furrow of his brow. “Huh?”

“Steve told me he saw me lean in to kiss you, b-but you pushed me away because you weren’t drunk... if you weren’t drunk, how do you not remember that night?” you asked, your voice softer now as you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

His expression faltered for a split second, a flicker of guilt crossing his face before he frowned again. He closed his eyes, running a hand down his face. “I-I don’t know what to tell you... I don’t remember... I must have gotten drunk afterward,” he said, his voice quieter, almost unsure.

You licked your lips, your throat suddenly dry as you looked away. “Why aren’t you happy? That we didn’t kiss? I thought...” You shrugged, your voice trailing off. “I just thought maybe it would be nice to know.”

Eddie laughed then, a low, bitter sound that didn’t reach his eyes. He looked down at the ground, his dimples deepening with the ghost of a smile that felt forced and hollow.

Eddie’s laughter faded, and the room fell uncomfortably silent. He rubbed the back of his neck, his head tilted down as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. When he finally spoke, his voice came out sharper than he intended.

“Why would it be nice to know?” he snapped, his dark eyes meeting yours, his tone biting with frustration. “Why would it be so great to find out that the girl I like didn’t end up kissing me?”

The words hung in the air like a firework that had exploded too close, the weight of his confession pressing down on both of you. Eddie froze, his mouth still slightly open as if he couldn’t believe what had just come out. His chest rose and fell as he stared at you, wide-eyed, his anger dissolving into sheer panic.

Your jaw dropped, your confusion only deepening as you tried to process what he’d just said. “What?” you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible.

“I-” Eddie started, but his voice cracked. He looked away, pacing a few steps toward the window, one hand tugging at his hair. He muttered something under his breath that you couldn’t catch, but the tips of his ears were red, and he looked like he wanted to melt into the floor.

“I didn’t mean to say that” he blurted, turning back to you. His hands gestured wildly as if trying to claw the words back out of the air. “I didn’t mean- it just slipped out, okay? Forget I said anything.”

But you couldn’t forget. Not when his words were echoing in your head on a loop: the girl I like.

“You...” You blinked, your heart racing as you took a hesitant step toward him. “You like me?”

Eddie let out a short, humourless laugh, shaking his head. “No- wait, yes, but not- Jesus, this is so stupid.” He groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Forget I said anything, alright? Let’s just pretend this didn’t happen.”

But you weren’t about to let it go. “Eddie,” you said softly, stepping closer to him. “You like me?”

He let his hands drop, and the look on his face was almost painful. His shoulders sagged, and for a moment, he looked like he might actually admit it. But then he shook his head again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

You didn’t let him finish.

“It does matter,” you said quietly, stepping even closer. The distance between you closed to just a few inches, and your voice softened as your heart pounded louder in your ears. “You just said it, Eddie. You like me.”

Eddie’s breath hitched, and his eyes darted to yours, his guarded expression crumbling. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words never came. The tension between you thickened, magnetic, drawing you closer to him.

You weren’t even sure who leaned in first, but suddenly the space between you wasn’t enough. You could feel the heat radiating off him, see the flicker of hesitation in his dark eyes as they flicked down to your lips.

“Eddie…” you whispered, the sound barely audible, trembling in the charged air between you.

For the first time, he didn’t pull away. His hands twitched at his sides, his body leaning closer, as if every fiber of his being was fighting the instinct to back off.

The world seemed to still, and the only thing that existed was him, so close you could feel the ghost of his breath against your skin.

This was it... you were going to kiss him, after almost 2 months of staring at his lips and wanting to know what they felt like on yours, you were actually going to know.

Eddie didn't know what to think, his eyes were focused on your lips, but his mind was focused on that confession he just told you.

He doesn't like you, so why would he say it?

He wasn't thinking, it just slipped out, right? he totally wasn't thinking about how he liked you before he said it.

Truth is he doesn't know how he feels, you're pretty. beautiful, hot, funny...the way you laugh at his jokes, the way your eyes light up when something excites you, the way you blush when you get nervous, the way you fiddle with your fingers when you grow flustered and save a seat next to you in class- even though no one sits next to you anymore- shit.

He does like you.. but He wishes he could take it back so you wouldn't know... but that secret was out before he even realised what he said.

But he was going for it, he was about to kiss you

"Ed? I'm home" the door opened as a raspy groan echoed through the room, Eddie's uncle stepping through the door as you and Eddie jumped apart, your lips never meeting.

Your faces flaming as you stumbled backward and Eddie’s hand shot to his hair, tugging at it as he turned toward the door, his expression a mix of panic and frustration.

Wayne stood in the doorway, his lunchbox in one hand and a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He stopped short, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

"Oh," Wayne said, blinking. "didn't tell me we were goin have company tonight"

Eddie groaned, his hands slapping over his face. "Wayne, what are you doing you're supposed to be here at 11?"

Wayne raised a hand in mock surrender, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was fighting a smirk. “oh yeah? why was I interuptin' somethin'?”

Eddie groaned and you looked away as Wayne's eyes met yours.

"No-" Eddie started before his uncle stopped him

"-plant shut off, gotta come home early" Wayne huffed as he walked to the bathroom, the tap running with water as Eddie turned to you, smiling tightly as he motioned to the bathroom, raising his eyebrows, his look saying 'well, that's my uncle'

You laughed softly as Wayne stepped out of the bathroom, shaking his hands from the water.

He moved to the kitchen with deliberate slowness, his eyes flicking between the two of you like he was watching the most entertaining drama he’d seen in weeks.

As Wayne grabbed a knife from the drawer, he glanced back at you with a raised eyebrow. "You stayin' for cake, Eddie's friend?" he said with a cheeky grin, winking as he went to the fridge

You Looked at Eddie as he introduced you to Wayne before turning back to you

"Do you want cake?" he mumbled, looking down as he played with his sleeve

You nodded with a shrug "sure.. if you want me to stay"

Eddie sat down by the two-seater table attached to the trailer wall and Wayne motioned for you to sit down on the other as he brought over a cake, it was a bit messy, but it looked perfect

He lit the candles, and as the lights were turned off, the warm glow bathed Eddie’s face, catching the curve of his cheekbones and the soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

For a moment, everything else faded- the near-kiss, the awkwardness, the unspoken feelings. All that mattered was the quiet hum of the moment, the flickering candles, and the way Eddie looked at you, like maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something neither of you could deny.

The glow of the candles danced in Eddie’s eyes; his usual bravado dimmed into something quieter, softer. You sat across from him, hands folded awkwardly on the edge of the table, not entirely sure where to look. Wayne stood behind him as he motioned you to start singing 'happy birthday' with him.

It was out of sync and very rough, but Eddie kept his embarrassed smile on his face, and once you finished the song, Wayne continued, humming off-tune as he waved his cigarette like a conductor's baton.

Eddie rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at his lips. “Alright, Wayne, you can stop now,” he muttered as Wayne’s humming grew louder and more dramatic.

Wayne smirked, leaning against the counter. “Hey, it’s not every day my nephew turns- what is it? Twenty-three? Twenty-four?”

“Twenty,” Eddie grumbled, though there was no real bite in his tone.

“Right, Twenty,” Wayne said, feigning a look of realization. “A big year for big moments, huh?” His eyes flicked meaningfully between the two of you, his smirk widening.

Eddie groaned, slumping in his chair. “Wayne, for the love of God-”

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave you two kids alone. After cake.” Wayne winked at you again, pulling a chair over and sitting down like he had all the time in the world.

You tried to stifle your laughter, stealing a glance at Eddie. He looked equal parts mortified and amused, his fingers drumming nervously against the table.

“Make a wish, Ed,” Wayne said, gesturing toward the candles.

Eddie leaned forward, pausing for a moment as if debating what to wish for. His eyes flickered to you briefly, so quick you almost missed it, before he blew out the candles in one swift breath.

Slicing the cake with the knife he’d grabbed earlier, he smiled, putting the pieces onto napkins “Alright, here we go. One slice for the birthday boy, one for the lovely guest, and—” He plopped a third slice onto his own plate. “One for me, Since I made the bloody thing.”

Wayne’s antics had you laughing now, the tension from earlier easing like a weight lifting off your shoulders. Eddie, despite his initial embarrassment, seemed to relax as well, his knee brushing against yours under the table.

“So,” Wayne began, taking a bite of cake. “How’d you two meet?”

Eddie nearly choked on his first bite, coughing violently as he waved his hand dismissively. “Wayne-”

"Oh, for the love of God, boy, stop being so dramatic" The older man rolled his eyes grumpily.

You hesitated, glancing at Eddie for guidance, but he was too busy glaring at his uncle to notice. Finally, you decided to take the reins. “Uh, school,” you said, your voice a little unsure.

“Yeah,” Eddie interjected quickly, recovering from his coughing fit. “School”

Wayne raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “School, huh? Didn’t know they taught awkward staring contests in class.”

You and Eddie exchanged a look, both of you visibly mortified.

“Alright, alright,” Wayne said with a chuckle, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll stop meddlin’. For now.” He stood, grabbing his napkin and wiping his face, heading to the kitchen to fetch a beer

Eddie let out a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head. “I swear, he lives to torture me.”

“Seems like it,” you said, unable to keep the smile off your face.

For a while, the conversation drifted into safer territory. Wayne eventually retreated to his room, leaving the two of you alone once again. The clock ticked softly in the background, and the leftover candles sat forgotten in the corner of the table.

You frowned, looking back at Wayne's door after a while of silence"did you get a present?"

He raised an eyebrow as he wiped his mouth, nodding "yeah.. got it before school"

You smiled "what'did you get?" you bounced your leg, eating the last bite of cake on your napkin

"uh-" he scratched his arm, right over his bat tattoo "new dice set..n'some figurines"

"Mm" you hummed, nodding your head "cool"

Eddie glanced at you, his fingers tapping nervously against the table, silence filling the air for a brief moment. “Thanks for staying,” he said, his voice softer now.

“Of course,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “it's not everyday you turn Twenty.” you teased,

His lips twitched into a shy smile, the earlier awkwardness creeping back in. “Yeah, well...”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you heavy with unspoken words.

“Eddie…” you began, your voice trailing off. You wanted to ask about earlier, about what he said- about you. But the words wouldn’t come, tangled in the knot in your chest.

He looked at you like he was waiting for something, his expression open and vulnerable in a way you’d rarely seen. “Yeah?”

“I…” You faltered, shaking your head with a small laugh. “I’m really glad I came tonight.”

Eddie nodded, his smile softening. “Me too.”

And though nothing else was said, the quiet understanding between you spoke volumes.

Maybe you'll get to kiss him another time.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Taglist:

@exploding-bonbon @xlostitx @pupwrites @carolineesnell @foreveranexpatsposts @itsmadamehydra @thedoubleexposurephotography @g3n3zshack @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @emxxblog @nubedeoctubreval @bimboshaggy @sheneedsrocknroll92 @callmytherapistplease-blog @ifeelbadbutimhot @littlemissholy @sammybrrr @alastorssimp

ahhh, can't believe Joe's 31, currently crying

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

[the-raven-and-the-tower]

A snoop through Lucanis's room in the Lighthouse; Signs of a Struggle

Lucanis is doing a damned good job holding it together considering everything he's been through. He's keeping a tight grip on his emotions and using the job to focus himself, but if you stop in to check on him... there are a few clear signs that not all is well.

Baby boy picked a room without windows, yet he's still craving light. For an assassin who has spent most of his life very comfortable in the dark, he’s avoiding it now like he’s avoiding sleep.

There are FIFTY SEVEN candles in his room. Fifty six of them are lit. Look at the variety. He found every spare candle available to him in the Lighthouse and possibly dragged a few back with him from the Cantori Diamond or Dellamorte estate.

^ Short candles, tall tapers, all in various states of use, ALL LIT. One very different candle in a silver candle-holder, maybe from the Diamond or home

^ Another silver addition, this time a candelabra with similar style to the last one and an elven lamp, similar to the one Rook decorates their room with.

^ Three more styles of candlestick holders in with all the standalone candles I'm guessing he found around the Lighthouse.

^ Terrible shot, but he also has both wall torches lit, which were the only lights in that space when he moved in IIRC

And what's more, he has enough coffee stashed in this room to give niacin flush to an elephant.

There are ELEVEN coffee cups sitting out and two more sitting ready next to the gifted coffee set. (Also, he has no coffee in his mug if you sneak a peek into it.)

^ Seven of the cups are within reach of his right hand, where he sits on the bed.

^ There's another in front of his hookah pipe. Couple more in the second shot, I missed a picture of one somehow. There are two unused cups sitting ready behind his gifted coffee set that definitely doesn't look like it's for tea...

^ Coffee beans and I'm guessing the two sacks next to the basket are full of the same. His empty cup below, cuz it makes me laugh.

Next, the bed. It gives me vibes of the crappy bedroll Astarion sleeps on in BG3. Look at this thing.

You can see where he tried scrubbing the grime away before giving up and deciding to just live with it. We know there are other beds in the Tower, Taash and Davrin both have cozy ones when they arrive.

Whether or not Lucanis had the conscious thought of "what he's worth / deserves", this is how he values himself. This is what he chose to sleep in... likely with the thought that he's going to be avoiding sleep at all costs anyway, why does it matter what shape the bed is in?

He brought barely any personal possessions with him. Lace is the same way, but Bellara's room is full and we found her packing list (adorable). Neve, too, has brought books, papers, a spare leg, tools to work on it with... Even Rook has a scene where they decorate their room with possessions that are meaningful to them.

But if we go looking through Lucanis's personal belongings, we find barely any of them. And what few there are, we find mixed among the team supplies or shoved under them.

^ Here, is hookah pipe is neatly shelved in the corner, and we find a a heavily-armored and well-locked chest tucked among the fruit. I might be looking for meaning where there isn't any but... Lucanis has got himself tucked away in the pantry, his walls up and himself still locked away in the Ossuary of his mind.

^ Better view of the chest.

Underneath one of the moved shelves is a Crow-themed rug, with almost all details hidden under supplies for the team, another big basket of coffee beans and another presumably-locked chest.

Under the bed, we find another rug, rolled up and not set out even though having it laid on the floor inside of the bed would be more comfortable. He spends a lot of time sitting on that bed, having a rug to put his feet on could be nice and yet... it's under the bed.

The only other Lucanis possession I could find in the room is his bag, shoved under his bed. He's a boujie boy, but it's not a boujie bag. It's utilitarian and well-used, shoved under the bed until he needs it.

To end on a slightly happier note... his brewing bench outside the pantry door is pretty neat.

^ I wonder where these mugs are from and what the designs represent.

^ Any idea what this is, anyone? The thing hanging from the chain?

Oh, and guess what was under the brew station! MORE COFFEE!

[cosmicbyeol]

𝙖 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 : 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛

take this however it resonates.

calm down and take deep breaths.

pick an image!! each corresponds with a pile.

♥︎ pile 1. Luther – Kendrick Lamar & SZA

hey…

all though you’re strong… there’s no doubt about that, we have to choose and pick our battles correctly. we can win for sure. don’t get me wrong. but there’s consequences if we choose the wrong one. not everyone is worth our spark, not everyone is worth our fire. and who do we look like wasting it. it sure as hell ain’t us. that’s for sure.

we’ve worked so hard to get were we are. everyone who says “working hard or hardly working” irks me. but alas, we should take a break. we need to take a break. it’s so close. the sweet sweet time off. it’s time to sit back and relax. take that time off work. it’s time to treat yourself, we have the right of way.

we’ve got everything that we’ve ever wished for and maybe more further in the future. we have all these things and gifts. I think we should share them. what do you think about that? everyone needs help every once and a while. but be careful with who you give it to. some people could drain you for all our worth and then we’d be left with nothing.

we’ll learn to use our gifts a little later, you’ll develop the energy to be the light around people. you’re energy might be in you now, it’s just a little hidden. but once you get the hang off it and tap into it, people will feel like they can do anything when they’re around you. you make them feel like they’re strong and powerful too. but again make sure you’re around the right people.

you have a select few or a small group of people that are good for you. you love them and they love you too. some celebration is in order. maybe an anniversary or an accomplishment is coming up or in the future. it’s good to celebrate closeness or a bond. you’d do anything for them in your power, and they should be able to do the same.

it’s okay to stand your ground. it’s okay to be outspoken, especially if it’s something you believe. especially if it’s about you and your wellbeing. I just want to see you win. you have the tools and your soul in your corner. fight for yourself with your whole being. you’re ready. stand up for yourself. You’ve got this!!

it’s okay to not be okay sometimes. and it’s okay to tell someone about it. someone you trust, someone who won’t judge you.

♥︎ pile 2. 30 for 30 – SZA & Kendrick Lamar

hey boo! ,

it’s confirmed. we’re not for everyone. and that’s okay. people are meant to be in and out of your life. we have the strength and power to overcome anything. why would we settle for less huh? we don’t need someone that’s going to treat us like shit, we don’t need someone that wouldn’t tend to us and our needs. we don’t need someone that won’t do what we would do for them. we’re stronger than that. it’s been put in our heads that we deserve below the minimum. we’ll never be at peace.

we should should learn to love yourself and our being before going to someone else to seek what we need. find that feeling you need in yourself first, before you give it to someone else. learn your worth know that you’re worth more than anything you could imagine. you’re worth more than that person you think is treating you right. KNOW YOUR WORTH DON’T YOU DARE SETTLE FOR LESS!!

learn how to love you!! take yourself out on a solo date. learn about yourself. learning and knowing yourself can take years, but at least you have somewhere to start. you’ll feel a little less lost. learning about ourself is the best thing we can do. it’s the best thing we could do for us and the people around us that truly care about us.

you don’t have to be with a partner or a significant other to have a good time. go out with your friends. go have that girls/boys/theys night. celebrate finding yourself and dumping that piece of trash. I know they didn’t let you go out. treat yourself.

with this new mindset you’ll do wonders. you won’t ever settle for less again. promise you’ll stand up for us, make more buzz and be a boss. never settle for less than your worth. WIPE THEM DOWN. ( but don’t go to jail! )

♥︎ pile 3. miracle – wayv

hey bestie ,

we need to learn to love ourself. and we need to learn about ourselves too. how else can we ascend? how else can we exist in that plane? how can we peacefully open our eye? we need to learn about us before we can start our journey, we can’t open doors if they’re locked. we can’t enter windows either. no hidden doors will work. “dreams can take you far, find out who you really are”

I’m gonna hold your hand when I say this, but to open these doors we can’t hang on to everybody. we can’t hang on to certain places or people. you can’t grow in a place with no water and no lights. you need to make that decision for yourself. no one else can make it for you. only you can give yourself water and light. and maybe plant food.

you definitely have the strength to grow and take yourself to a whole new level. you have the power to transcend all the things you deem “meaningless”, to reach that orbit. to replenish your energy and grow countless of times. it’s something more than psychical for you. you could even get the the point where you don’t even need to open eyes to feel and see things.

this definitely isn’t a journey you can quite get through alone. but most of it will be done within you. but as long as you have someone in your corner and someone that knows about this kind of thing. but maybe finding a like minded person or people can do you some good 😌. you won’t regret it. you guys might be on to something.

don’t get too deep in that ascending and bigger than life feeling. keep yourself grounded, just because you’ve reached this state doesn’t mean it can be taken away from you. especially if you start to abuse it. this feeling can cause some miscommunication in your circle you’ve made. it might cause a rift, but sometimes not everything is meant to be. this miscommunication could lead to you to question if your ideologies and feelings are the same as your circle. you might need to take a step back and see if your circle is for you.

[iprefervillains]

book club hangster?! please share more

Book club Hangster entered my mind at the start of the new year and hasn't left it yet.

Basically they both like to read and somehow this escalates from them swapping books on a carrier once to sending all kinds of random books they pick up on employment halfway across the world for the other to read.

They leave annotations and reviews for the other and sometimes spent hours skyping or emailing about the books. They read, discuss and banter. It's their thing, their way of bonding and falling in love even though they don't like each other (lie!) and aren't even in the same part of the world most of the time.

It's mostly vibes right now but some ideas for this include:

Bradley hating thrillers and Jake picking up some weird Scandinavian psycho thriller when it is his turn some time before the mission just to be an ass. It's the real reason for the "early grave" comment, the book scared Bradley shitless.

Jake having a concussion after his air-to-air kill and Bradley calling him up to read him a new book over the phone. It helps with the boredom and the nightmares.

Bradley has a special bookshelf where he keeps all the books Jake send to him. They are scribbled full (Bradley adds his own comments even though Jake won't see them) to the point where he awkwardly purchases a second copy of a book he already owns because he doesn't want to lend Phoenix his copy.

They spent one Christmas when they are both temporarily stationed in San Diego quietly sitting on the couch in the Bradshaw bungalow, each in their own corner, silently reading a book and making notes and then swapping books the next day to do it again, before loudly discussing them on the second Christmas day.

They have soo many inside jokes, most importantly: "this could be us but you playing" noted to either the most hilariously bad romance scenes or totally unhinged conversations between characters or people killing their enemies.

Sometimes they challenge each other to only speak in quotes without anyone else noticing

Bradley ends up confessing his love for Jake by putting one of those romance novels that has a life shattering confession scenes and ends with either one or both characters dying on Jake's bed before he leaves for the mission with the confession highlighted and the words "I wish I would have been brave enough to tell you too instead of being a coward. I'm so sorry, Jake ♥". Needless to say Jake ends up totally pissed when he gets to the point in the book on the way back to shore because this is such a dick move and storms the medbay in the middle of the night to rip Bradley a new one.

Honestly I just love the idea of them having a share passion to bond over. A soft kind of love, you wouldn't expect at first, especially when you hear them loudly arguing about the right flight style.

There is more if you want @intrepidjourneys, it might take me some time to write though.

[bumblebee-online]

hai haii hai!! I was just wondering if it wiuld be okay with you if you could do a Sprout x a very sleepy/tired reader, and and Astro x reader with the same trope!! If not thats completely fine!!

☎️; haiiii hellooo! thank U sooo much for the request ^_^ hope these are to ur liking<3 i wanted to write for sprout sooo bad grrrr

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⟡ ݁₊ . Astro! 💤

You’ve basically chosen the best possible Toon for the job, congrats! He’s pretty used to people dozing off around him, after all, he’s the one responsible for giving them… well, sometimes sweet dreams, to the best of his ability. So trust me, you’re not too much for Astro to handle— far from it, actually! He’s super glad to help.

And with his own questionable lack of energy? The two of you are attached at the hip on most days. Even if it’s just tiny naps here and there, it never takes Astro more than five minutes to drift off with you, his arms wrapped securely around you as if he fears you’ll just sleepwalk away.

But if you really do have a habit of sleepwalking or sleeptalking, Astro finds it hilariously adorable. He happily takes on the role of your ‘guardian’ if you start to subconsciously wander, and even tries to make sense of the incoherent sentences your sleepy brain comes up with, all while holding back a laugh.

The only time Astro would become worried is if you end up in some kind of trouble, like sleepwalking into a door. Or just wandering too close to Shrimpo who would be more than willing to slap you out of your trance if Astro wasn’t there to stop him with a soft yet stern glare.

I give you: the sleepiest couple in Gardenview award! At least you two are easy to find— whenever another Toon needs you, all they have to do is look for the comfiest spot around, and there you’ll be, fast asleep! Bonus points if you snore in your sleep because Astro absolutely loves listening in, even if you’re a bit on the louder side. To him, it’s a comforting reminder that you’re safe & warm in his arms and having the sweetest dreams. That’s all that matters. 💙

✶⋆.˚ Sprout! 🌱

Sprout did get pretty worried at first when he noticed your lack of energy, wondering if it’s something like a sickness or maybe you’re just not taking care of yourself. He might come across as a little invasive, asking things like, “What’s wrong?” or “How are you feeling?” and “Do you usually nap this long?” He can be a bit pushy, but it’s all coming from a place of concern.

Once you were finally able to convince him that nothing’s wrong and you’re just naturally in tune with your dreaming side, Sprout slowly stops offering you energy bars and soda pop literally every hour. Also, hey, if you can’t beat them, join them! That’s exactly what he did, Sprout will join you for your little naps, but if he can’t, he’ll simply bake while you rest on the couch nearby, occasionally checking in on you. Sprout’s gaze lingers on your peacefully sleepy expression, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks as he realizes he’s been staring.

Have you ever noticed how soft Sprout’s scarf looks? He’s always seen wearing it, but lately, some of the Toons have started to notice it’s now wrapped snugly around your neck instead of his. You almost melt into the fuzzy fabric when you doze off, and it makes such a perfect makeshift pillow with his scent lingering on it, making you miss Sprout so much more when he’s not around. Sometimes even Sprout himself forgets where his scarf went, only to find you loosely clutching it in your sleep. How adorable.

Sprout won’t let you nap just anywhere, though, your safety comes first! He’ll gently pick you up and carry you to a softer spot, making sure you have a blanket or pillow if you’re missing one. One time you dozed off after Astro let out a long yawn, which was so contagious that you were snoring within minutes. What happened after that? Oh, just waking up to find an entire pillow fort, freshly baked warm cookies, and Sprout smiling down at you, playfully teasing you for being so quick to succumb to sleep. He’s secretly counting on those cookies to help you power through the movie marathon he’s planned for the two of you, but he’s definitely not complaining about having such a cutie snoozing in his arms. ❤️

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[th3mrskory]

Chapter 7: Echoes of the Past

Pairing: Original fem!Reader x Origins!Logan Warning: Mentions of past trauma (mild), masturbation (male) and I think that's all. A/N: So, I know the slow burn has been crawling, so this time I decided to pour some gasoline on it. This chapter touches on Evelyn’s past— let’s just say a ghost makes a timely return to stir things up. Chapter 8 …well, you might hate me (but I hope not too much). Thank you for your patience and for sticking with me—it means more than I can say. Now, go enjoy this one, and let me know what you think!

Word count: 6.5k

© th3mrskory. don’t copy, translate, or use my works in any form with AI, ChatGPT or any other automated tools. I only share my stories here, so if you see them posted elsewhere, i’d appreciate it if you let me know.

The town fair was alive with the hum of cheerful voices, the scent of funnel cakes and roasted chestnuts wafting through the cool evening air. Strings of colorful lights crisscrossed the fairgrounds, casting a warm glow over the gathering crowd. Evelyn tightened her grip on Logan’s hand as they weaved through the throng, the comfortable weight of his presence grounding her in the lively chaos.

“Didn’t peg you as a fair kind of guy,” she teased, glancing up at him with a small smile.

Logan smirked, his free hand shoved deep into the pocket of his jacket. “The guys at work were all bringing their ladies. Figured I’d better not show up empty-handed.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, so I’m just here to save your reputation?”

“Yes,” he replied dryly, though the faint curve of his lips betrayed his amusement.

She gave his hand a playful squeeze. “Well, I’m honored to uphold your rugged logger image.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand as they strolled past a booth selling handmade crafts. The fair was in full swing, the sounds of laughter and the occasional burst of music filling the crisp night air.

“Think you’ll get called out for bringing a city girl?” she asked, nudging him gently.

“Nah,” Logan said, glancing at her. “They’ve been waiting to see who’d put up with me.”

Evelyn laughed, the sound light and easy. “Good thing I don’t scare off that easily.”

The banter between them carried on as they explored the fair, stopping occasionally to admire the wares at different stalls or grab a bite to eat. Logan’s presence was steady and comforting, his rare smiles making the night feel even warmer despite the cool breeze.

They passed a booth with a ring toss game, the prizes ranging from stuffed animals to small trinkets. Evelyn stopped, eyeing a plush fox hanging in the corner.

“You eyeing that fox?” Logan asked, his tone light.

She shrugged, feigning indifference. “I mean, it’s cute, but those games are rigged.”

Logan tilted his head, his smirk widening. “Rigged, huh?”

Before she could protest, he handed over a few bills to the vendor and picked up the rings. His first toss missed, but the next two landed squarely on the poles, the clang of success drawing a grin from the vendor.

“Nice work,” the vendor said, handing Logan the plush fox.

Logan turned to Evelyn, holding it out. “For you.”

She laughed, taking the toy and hugging it to her chest. “You’re just full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?”

“Don’t spread it around,” he said, his tone dry but his expression warm.

As they wandered back into the heart of the fair, the hum of activity enveloped them once more. The scent of roasted chestnuts and sweet cotton candy mingled in the air, and Evelyn found herself easing into the moment again, Logan’s steady presence beside her grounding her in ways she hadn’t fully realized until now.

They paused by a booth selling cider, Logan handing her a warm cup before taking one for himself. “Good?” he asked, his voice low but warm.

She took a sip, the spicy sweetness filling her senses, and nodded with a small smile. “Very.”

They strolled on, stopping occasionally to admire the performers scattered throughout the fair—a fire-breather here, a fiddler playing lively tunes there. Logan’s quiet amusement at her fascination with it all made her smile.

“Enjoying yourself?” she asked, bumping his arm lightly.

“Not bad,” he said, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Seeing you enjoy it makes it better.”

Before she could respond, a loud voice called out from nearby.

“Howlett!”

They both turned to see a group of men gathered near a ring-toss game, several of whom Evelyn recognized from the logging site. One of them—a tall, broad-shouldered man with a salt-and-pepper beard—was waving them over.

“Caught you at the fair, huh?” the man said with a grin as they approached. “Thought you’d be too busy chopping trees or scowling at the world.”

“Guess you don’t know me as well as you think, Pete,” Logan replied, his tone dry but not unfriendly.

The others chuckled, their gazes shifting to Evelyn.

“And this must be the reason he’s been less grumpy lately,” another one said, winking at her. “Nice to finally meet you. Name’s Rick.”

Evelyn smiled, shaking his offered hand. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Don’t mind these idiots,” Logan muttered, though the faintest hint of amusement flickered in his eyes.

“You’re just mad we’re right,” Rick quipped, elbowing Pete. “Good to see you happy, Howlett. It suits you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan said, his hand resting lightly on the small of Evelyn’s back.

Rick smirked, his tone sly. “So, when’s the wedding, huh? You gonna invite us, or are you keeping it small?”

Evelyn laughed, her eyes sparkling as she glanced at Logan. “We’ll let you know if he ever asks.”

Rick let out a booming laugh, clapping Logan on the shoulder. “She’s got you pegged, Howlett. Better not let this one get away.”

Logan shook his head, but the warmth in his expression didn’t go unnoticed. “You done yet?”

“Not even close,” Rick said, grinning. “We just want to make sure she knows what she’s signed up for.”

Evelyn tilted her head, her gaze playful. “Oh, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

Rick laughed again, his hand resting briefly on Evelyn’s shoulder. “You’re a good sport. Good luck with him.”

After a few more minutes of lighthearted ribbing, the group let them go with a chorus of good-natured farewells. As they walked away, Evelyn glanced up at Logan, her smile softening.

“They seem nice,” she said.

“They mean well,” he replied, his hand slipping back into hers.

“They’re happy for you,” she pointed out, squeezing his hand lightly.

Logan’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Guess they are.”

They continued their stroll, pausing near the carousel where the cheerful sound of calliope music drifted through the air. The strings of lights twinkled overhead, casting a soft glow over the quiet corner. Logan stopped, his gaze shifting to her.

“You doing okay?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

Evelyn nodded, her fingers brushing against his. “I am. Thanks to you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Logan said simply, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. “Just glad I could help.”

She stepped closer, her voice softer now. “You’re more than ‘help,’ Logan. You don’t have to say it, but I know what you mean to me.”

The warmth in his gaze made her chest tighten, and she leaned into him slightly, letting the quiet strength of his presence wrap around her. In that moment, the chaos of the fair seemed a world away, leaving just the two of them standing together beneath the strings of lights. 

As they rounded a corner near the Ferris wheel, Evelyn suddenly froze mid-step, her laughter dying in her throat. Across the fairgrounds, standing near a booth selling caramel apples, was a face she hadn’t seen in over a year but would recognize anywhere.

Her ex-fiancé, William.

He looked almost the same as he had the day he left—clean-cut, polished, and standing with the same air of casual confidence that once made her feel safe. But now, he was leaning close to another woman, his arm draped loosely around her shoulders. The sight sent a cold wave crashing over her, the noise of the fair fading into a dull hum in the background.

Logan’s voice broke through the fog. “You alright?”

She turned toward him, startled, her heart pounding. “What? Yeah. I’m fine.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze flicking toward the direction she’d been staring. He didn’t say anything, but his hand tightened around hers, his presence steady and unyielding.

And then, as if drawn by some unseen thread, her ex-fiancé turned. Their eyes met across the distance, and for a moment, Evelyn couldn’t breathe. For a moment, there was no recognition. And then, his expression shifted—first surprise, then something that looked almost like discomfort.

“Evelyn,” he said, his voice carrying just enough for her to hear over the noise of the fair.

She froze, the sound of her name on his lips sending a shiver down her spine. Logan stopped with her, his posture subtly shifting as he positioned himself closer to her side.

“Hey,” her ex said, taking a step forward. The woman beside him glanced between them, her smile faltering as she seemed to sense the tension. “It’s been a while.”

“Yes, it has,” Evelyn replied, her tone carefully neutral.

The man hesitated, his gaze flicking to Logan before returning to her. “You look good,” he said awkwardly, as though unsure of what else to say.

Evelyn straightened slightly, her fingers tightening around Logan’s. “Thanks.”

An awkward silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Logan didn’t speak, but his quiet presence beside her felt like a shield, solid and unyielding.

“Well,” her ex said after a moment, glancing back at the woman he was with. “It was good seeing you. Take care, Evelyn.”

“You too,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning in her chest.

As he walked away, she let out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging slightly. Logan didn’t say anything, but his hand moved to rest lightly against her back, grounding her.

“Let’s keep moving,” she said quickly.

They walked in silence for a while, the lightness of their earlier banter replaced by a heavy tension that clung to Evelyn like a second skin. She tried to focus on the fair—the laughter of children, the cheerful music drifting from the carousel—but the image of her ex lingered, stirring a whirlwind of emotions she thought she’d buried.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. “I need some air,” she murmured, stepping toward the edge of the fairgrounds where the crowd thinned.

Logan followed without hesitation, his hand slipping from hers but his presence close behind. They stopped near a bench beneath a string of lights, the soft glow illuminating the lines of concern etched into his face.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

She hesitated, her arms wrapping around herself as she stared at the ground. “That was my ex,”she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. 

The words hung in the air between them, carrying the weight of a history Logan didn’t yet know. His gaze remained steady, his hands flexing slightly as if resisting the urge to reach for her.

“The one who...?” he began, his voice trailing off, leaving the rest of the question unspoken.

She nodded, her throat tightening. “Yeah.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, a flicker of something sharp crossing his expression—anger, maybe, or something close to it. But he didn’t say anything, letting her set the pace of the conversation.

“I wasn’t expecting to see him,” she continued, her voice wavering. “And with someone else...” Her words faltered, and she shook her head as if to clear it. “Not that it matters. It doesn’t.It just caught me off guard. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Logan’s tone was calm, but there was an edge to it, a quiet insistence that told her he wasn’t buying her dismissal.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she turned toward him, finally meeting his gaze. “It’s complicated, Logan. Seeing him again—it brought back... the hurt, the humiliation.”

Logan stepped closer, his hand brushing against her arm before settling there lightly. “You don’t have to explain it all to me,” he said, his voice softer now. 

She closed her eyes for a moment, the tension in her chest loosening just slightly at his words. “I thought I’d moved past it,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “But seeing him... I don’t know. It made me feel like I’m right back at the church.”

Logan’s brow furrowed, his expression shifting into something that wasn’t pity but understanding—a quiet strength that steadied her as her words faltered.

“You’re not there,” he said firmly, his voice low and grounding. “You’re here. And you’re stronger than the person he walked away from.”

Her throat tightened, a rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. “It doesn’t feel like it,” she whispered. “It feels like he took something from me that I can’t get back.”

Logan’s hand moved to cup her cheek, his rough palm warm against her skin. The gesture made her chest ache, not from pain but from the tenderness in it.

“He didn’t take anything that matters,” Logan said, his tone steady. “Not the part of you that kept going. That rebuilt herself when he wasn’t there to help.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she let out a shaky breath. “Logan...”

His thumb brushed the tear away, his gaze never wavering. “You’re allowed to feel this,” he murmured. “But don’t let it make you forget how far you’ve come. And don’t let it make you forget who you are now.”

His words settled over her, soothing the raw edges of her hurt. She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat as she leaned slightly into his touch.

“You always know what to say,” she said softly, her lips curving into a faint, tentative smile.

Logan let out a soft huff, his thumb pausing against her cheek. “Just trying to keep up with you.”

That earned a quiet laugh, the sound breaking through the tension and lightening the air between them. She reached up, covering his hand with hers, her fingers curling around his.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice steadier now.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his voice rough but warm. “Just... let me be here for you.”

The sincerity in his words made her heart ache in the best way. 

She took a deep breath, stepping back slightly but keeping her hand in his. “Let’s go back,” she said, her voice quiet but determined.

Logan nodded, his fingers tightening briefly around hers. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I’m not letting him ruin our night.”

Logan’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles, and without another word, he guided her back toward the fair. His hand stayed firmly in hers, his presence a steadying anchor as the lively sounds of the fair enveloped them once more.

Though her mind still lingered on the encounter, the warmth of Logan’s touch and the weight of his words grounded her, reminding her of the life she was building—one that her past couldn’t take from her.

Logan pulled the truck to a gentle stop in front of the cottage, the warm glow of the porch light spilling into the darkened yard. The drive back from the fair had been quiet, but not uncomfortable—filled with the kind of silence that spoke of mutual understanding rather than awkwardness.

Logan turned to her as she unbuckled her seatbelt, his expression steady but laced with something unspoken. “You alright?”

Evelyn nodded, managing a small smile. “Yeah. I think so. Thanks for tonight. For... everything.”

His lips quirked into the faintest smile, his hand resting on the gear shift. “Always.”

As she reached for the door handle, his voice stopped her. “Hey.”

She turned back to him, her brows lifting slightly.

“I was thinking,” he began, his tone casual but carrying an edge of hesitation, “maybe next time, we do something a little quieter. Dinner. At my place.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Your place?”

Logan shrugged, his gaze flicking briefly toward the steering wheel before meeting hers again. “Figured it’s only fair. We’re always here at yours.”

A warm, unexpected flutter spread through her chest at the suggestion. “I’d like that,” she said softly, her smile widening.

“Friday work for you?”

She nodded, stepping out of the truck but pausing before shutting the door. “I’ll bring dessert,” she teased, her tone light.

Logan smirked, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “Deal.”

On Friday evening, the crisp autumn air was tinged with the scent of pine as Evelyn turned her car onto the gravel road leading to Logan’s cabin. The fading sunlight cast long shadows across the driveway, the forest surrounding his property alive with the soft rustle of leaves.

Her nerves hummed lightly as she parked next to his truck, clutching the box of homemade cookies she’d promised to bring for dessert. It wasn’t their first evening together, but this felt different—more deliberate, like a step forward in their unspoken rhythm.

Before she could knock, the door opened, revealing Logan in his usual flannel and jeans, his sleeves rolled up and his hair slightly tousled. There was a warmth in his gaze that immediately put her at ease.

“Hey,” he greeted, stepping aside to let her in.

“Hey,” she replied, offering him a smile as she crossed the threshold. The cabin was cozy, smaller than her cottage but just as inviting, with its rough-hewn wooden beams and the faint crackle of a fire in the stone hearth.

Logan took the box of cookies from her hands, his fingers brushing hers briefly. “Smells good,” he said, glancing down at the neatly tied package.

“Don’t let that fool you,” she teased, slipping off her coat. “They might taste terrible.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Doubt that.”

The cabin felt distinctly like him—simple and sturdy, with a sense of quiet warmth beneath the surface. A small bookshelf sat by the fireplace, filled with well-worn paperbacks and a few framed photos. The table in the corner was set with two mismatched plates and a candle flickering gently in the center.

“You really went all out,” she said, her voice carrying a note of playful surprise as she took it all in.

Logan shrugged, setting the cookies on the counter. “Figured it was time for a change. We’re always at your place.”

Her smile softened at his effort, and she stepped closer, brushing a hand lightly against his arm. “It’s nice. Thank you.”

Dinner was simple but perfect—a roast chicken, potatoes, and vegetables that Logan had clearly put care into preparing. They fell into easy conversation as they ate, the intimacy of the space wrapping around them like a blanket.

Halfway through the meal, Evelyn glanced at the photo frame on the bookshelf. It showed a much younger Logan in a military uniform, standing next to a group of men who were all grinning despite the dust and grime on their faces.

“Is that you?” she asked, nodding toward the picture.

Logan’s gaze followed hers, his expression softening slightly. “Yeah. A long time ago.”

“You look so serious,” she teased gently, though there was no mockery in her tone.

“Wasn’t much to laugh about back then,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady.

A beat of silence passed, the weight of his words settling between them. Then Logan leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady on hers. “I wanted to give you something,” he said, his voice almost casual, though his tone carried an underlying weight.

Evelyn tilted her head, curious. “What is it?”

He stood and crossed the room to the bookshelf, reaching for something she hadn’t noticed before. When he returned, he held out a pair of dog tags strung on a simple chain.

The metal glinted faintly in the candlelight as he placed them in her hands. “These are mine,” he said, his voice rougher now. “From when I served.”

She stared down at the tags, her fingers brushing over the etched letters. “Logan...”

“You don’t have to wear them or anything,” he said quickly, almost as if he were worried she might refuse. “Just... I wanted you to have something. Something that mattered to me.”

Her throat tightened, and she looked up at him, her voice trembling slightly. “Thank you. This means more than you know.”

After the meal, they worked together on the dishes, their movements synchronized in a quiet rhythm. The soft clink of plates and the gentle hum of conversation filled the small kitchen, adding to the warmth of the evening. When they were done, Logan grabbed a towel, wiping his hands as Evelyn wandered into the living room.

Her gaze landed on a Polaroid camera sitting on the side table. “Oh my God, you have one of these?” she exclaimed, picking it up with an almost childlike delight.

Logan smirked as he leaned against the doorframe. “It’s old.”

She laughed, opening the back to check for film. “Still works, though.” Finding a few shots left, she climbed onto the couch, motioning him over. “Come here.”

Logan rolled his eyes but complied, sitting stiffly beside her. She tilted the camera, angling it just right, then leaned into him with a grin.

The camera whirred and clicked, spitting out the photo. She waved it in the air, laughing at Logan’s slightly awkward expression in the developing image. “Perfect,” she declared.

She adjusted the camera and pointed it at him. “One more—for me.”

Logan raised a brow but didn’t protest, sitting still as she snapped the shot.

Satisfied, she turned the lens on herself, angling it for a final picture. With a playful flourish, she kissed the developing photo before handing it to him. “And one for you.”

Logan stared at the picture, her bright smile frozen in time. His fingers brushed the edge of the Polaroid as a soft, almost reverent expression crossed his face. Without a word, he leaned forward, pulling her into a kiss.

It started slow, but the spark between them flared quickly. Her hands slid up his chest, tugging him closer as his grip tightened around her waist. They sank into the couch, the tension mounting as their bodies pressed together. Logan’s lips left hers to trail along her neck, his breathing heavy, and a low growl rumbled from his chest as she shifted against him.

Her hands slid into his hair, tugging gently, and a soft gasp escaped her lips when his mouth found the sensitive skin just below her ear. The moment was electric, both of them caught in a current too strong to resist.

Logan broke the kiss suddenly, his breathing ragged as he looked down at her. She was flushed, her lips red and parted, her hair clinging to her damp forehead. The sight of her like this, vulnerable yet full of desire, sent a wave of heat surging through him, and he felt his body respond instinctively.

“Evelyn,” he murmured, his voice thick with need and restraint. His hands tightened on her waist, almost as if grounding himself. “I think we should stop.”

Her brow furrowed, confusion flickering across her face as she continued to move against him, her body seeking his. “Why?” she asked softly, her voice laced with longing.

Logan closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath as he fought to keep control. “Because if we don’t…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to.”

She stopped her movements, her hands sliding from his shoulders to cup his face. Her touch was gentle, steady, and her gaze searched his, her own chest rising and falling with every shaky breath. “Logan,” she began, her tone softer now. “I trust you.”

His eyes opened, and the storm within them met her unwavering calm. “It’s not about trust,” he said, his voice rough. “You told me to take it slow, and I don’t want to be the reason you change that.”

Her heart squeezed at the sincerity in his voice, the way he was holding back, not for himself but for her. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. “I know what I want,” she whispered, her words warm against his skin. “And right now, I just want to be close to you. I’m not asking for more.”

Logan groaned softly, his eyes squeezing shut as he rested his forehead against hers. “I can’t—I can’t control myself when it comes to you,”he muttered, his voice low and full of longing. 

Her cheeks burned, and she quickly pulled back, her hands flying to cover her face. “Oh my God,” she mumbled into her palms, embarrassed by the intensity of the moment.

Logan huffed a low laugh, shaking his head as he stood. “It’s not you, bub. It’s me.” His voice was gentler now, though his movements were still stiff with restraint. “I just… I need a minute.”

Without another word, he disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the door clicking shut breaking the charged silence.

Left alone, Evelyn sat frozen for a moment before peeking out from behind her hands, her cheeks still burning. The weight of the moment lingered in the room, but so did something else—a sense of care, of respect, and a deep connection that neither of them could deny.

She exhaled slowly, her lips curving into a small, nervous smile. “What are you doing to me, Logan?” she whispered to herself, the heat in her chest refusing to subside.

Inside the bathroom, Logan braced himself on the sink, his broad shoulders hunched as if the weight of his self-control was a physical burden. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the porcelain, and his reflection in the mirror stared back at him—a mess of frustration, longing, and restraint.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough and strained. “Come on, Howlett. You’re acting like a damn teenager.”

The words felt hollow as they left his lips. She made him feel like a man stripped down to his most basic instincts, raw and exposed in ways that unsettled him.

He turned on the faucet, letting the cold water rush over his hands before splashing some on his face. The icy shock was a welcome reprieve from the fire that had ignited under his skin. Droplets clung to his hair and dripped onto the sink as he stared into the mirror again.

Her face flashed in his mind—flushed and glowing, her lips swollen from their kisses, her voice trembling with trust and desire as she whispered his name. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he gripped the edge of the sink tighter, his claws threatening to unsheathe.

“Pull it together,” he hissed to himself, his voice low and sharp. 

But God, she made it so damn hard. Every touch, every look, every soft sigh drove him closer to a line he didn’t trust himself to cross. He’d never wanted anything—or anyone—this much before. 

He shut his eyes tightly, taking in a deep, steadying breath. 

His breathing quickened, and he squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the edge of the sink tighter. “Damn it,” he growled. But the ache wouldn’t relent, the tension building like a storm that wouldn’t break.

Logan tried to push it down, to shake it off, but her voice echoed in his mind: I trust you. That trust, that closeness—they meant everything to him. But his body wasn’t listening. He was only human, and the fire she’d lit inside him wasn’t going out on its own.

His jaw clenched as he leaned forward, his forehead resting against the cool glass of the mirror. He cursed softly, his hand drifting lower to his belt, undoing it at an embarrassing speed. His breath hitched as his hand wrapped itself around his painfully hard member, his free hand bracing him against the sink.

He beggan stroking himself fast, almost desperate, and he bit back a low groan as he finally let the tension snap. For a moment, the release brought relief, his body calming as he exhaled shakily. But the satisfaction was fleeting, the guilt settling in almost immediately after.

He straightened, his chest still heaving as he stared at himself in the mirror, disgust flickering in his gaze. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he muttered, his voice harsh. 

Logan turned off the faucet and took a moment to compose himself, his hands gripping the counter until the trembling stopped. He didn’t deserve her, not like this—not when he couldn’t even keep himself in check. He grabbed a towel and wiped himself, trying to scrub away the evidence of his weakness.

Finally, he stood tall, steeling himself as he reached for the doorknob. His expression was guarded, his jaw set as he opened the door and stepped back into the room.

Logan stepped out of the bathroom, his face composed, though a faint shadow of guilt lingered in his eyes. He found her curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over her lap, flipping idly through channels on the old TV.

She glanced up as he entered, offering him a small, tentative smile. “Everything okay?” she asked softly.

He nodded, running a hand through his hair as he crossed the room. “Yeah. Just needed a minute,” he said, his voice calmer now, though the weight of his earlier emotions still clung to him.

She shifted to make room for him on the couch, patting the cushion beside her. “Come sit.”

Logan hesitated for a moment before sitting down, the cushion dipping under his weight. She pulled the blanket over both of them, her warmth immediately grounding him.

They settled into a comfortable silence, the soft flicker of the TV casting a warm glow across the room. Some old sitcom was playing, the canned laughter filling the quiet space between them.

As the tension from earlier began to fade, Logan glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was focused on the screen, her face relaxed, though her hand rested lightly against his arm—a small, reassuring gesture that made his chest ache.

“Sorry if I…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “ made things weird.”

She turned to him, her expression gentle. “You didn’t,” she said simply. 

The corners of his mouth lifted in a small, genuine smile, and for the first time that evening, he felt himself relax. The pull between them was still there, simmering under the surface, but for now, this—just being close to her—was enough.

As the credits rolled on the TV, she yawned softly, her head tilting to rest against his shoulder. Logan froze for a moment, then eased into the touch, his arm slipping around her shoulders.

“You tired?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

She nodded against him, her eyes fluttering shut. “A little.”

“Get some rest,” he murmured, his hand lightly brushing against her arm.

They stayed like that for a while, the room quiet except for the low hum of the TV and the crackle of the fire. Logan glanced down at her, her breathing evening out as she drifted off against him.

For all his inner turmoil, this moment—her trusting him enough to fall asleep in his arms—felt like something he didn’t deserve. But he’d hold onto it, for as long as she let him.

The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting long golden shadows across the room. Evelyn stirred, slowly becoming aware of the warmth pressed against her back and the steady rise and fall of Logan’s chest. For a moment, she let herself sink into the comfort of it—the solidness of him, the faint scent of cedar and smoke clinging to his skin.

But then, the events of the night before came rushing back: the heated kisses, the way his hands had gripped her hips like she was the only thing grounding him. Her cheeks flushed at the memory of their closeness, the quiet intensity that had left her breathless.

She carefully shifted out of his embrace, the creak of the couch making her wince. As she stood, she noticed the Polaroid on the floor, its corner peeking out from beneath the edge of the coffee table. Bending to pick it up, she stared at her own image for a moment, the faintest smile tugging at her lips.

Her gaze flicked to Logan, still asleep, his features soft and unguarded in the morning light. Setting the photo back on the table, she found a scrap of paper and pen nearby and scribbled a quick note:

Thank you for last night—for everything. You have no idea how much it means to me. See you soon.

She folded the note and placed it beside the Polaroid before grabbing her jacket and slipping out the door, the cool morning air brushing against her flushed cheeks.

Back at her cottage, the stillness felt louder than usual, filling the small space as Evelyn poured herself a cup of tea. The events of the night before replayed in her mind, the intensity of their kisses, the feel of Logan’s hands on her waist, and the quiet way he’d held her as she drifted off.

She sat at the kitchen table, staring out the window, before finally reaching for the phone. Her fingers hovered over the rotary dial for a moment before she took a steadying breath and began to turn the numbers. The line clicked faintly before it started to ring.

Martha picked up on the third ring, her voice warm and full of curiosity. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite pioneer woman. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Evelyn laughed softly, shaking her head. “Good morning to you too, Martha.”, let out a soft laugh, sinking onto the couch. “Sorry, I’ve been... busy.”

“Oh, I know exactly who’s been keeping you busy,” Martha replied, her voice laced with amusement.

Evelyn hesitated, her fingers twisting the phone cord as she searched for the right words. “We were at his place last night. He made dinner, and... well, things got a little... heated.”

“Heated?” Martha repeated, drawing out the word with delight. “How heated are we talking here? Because I need details, woman.”

“Not like that,” Evelyn said quickly, her face flushing. “But we kissed. A lot. And it felt... it felt like everything else just disappeared. Like the only thing that mattered was him.”

There was a long, dramatic pause on Martha’s end before she said, “Oh, honey. You’re in deep.”

Evelyn let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through her hair. “It’s terrifying, Martha. I haven’t felt like this in so long. And the last time I did—”

“—it didn’t end well,” Martha finished gently. “I know. But this isn’t that. You said it yourself—Logan’s different. He’s not some flaky guy with cold feet.”

Evelyn hesitated, her grip on the phone cord tightening. “You’re right, he’s not. But seeing William at the fair the other night—I wasn’t ready for that.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “Wait. What? You saw him? What happened?”

“He was just... there,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “I spotted him with some woman, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. And then he walked up and said hello like nothing had ever happened. Like he hadn’t—” Her words caught in her throat, and she took a steadying breath. “Like he hadn’t left me standing there on my wedding day.”

“God,” Martha breathed, her voice brimming with sympathy and anger. “What an absolute jerk. What did you do? Did you tell him to shove off?”

Evelyn let out a hollow laugh. “I wish. I just... froze. I could barely get a word out. But Logan could tell something was off, but he didn’t press. ”

“That man,” Martha said, her voice practically glowing with approval. “He’s a saint. Or maybe a knight in flannel armor. Either way, he sounds like the real deal.”

“He is,” Evelyn admitted quietly, a warmth spreading through her chest. “But seeing William brought everything back. The humiliation, the hurt, the fear that I’ll never be good enough for someone to stick around.”

“Alright, stop right there,” Martha interrupted, her voice firm. “First of all, you are more than enough. Don’t let some spineless coward make you question that. Second, Logan isn’t your ex. He’s proven that over and over again. The way you talk about him—how he looks after you, how he’s there for you—it’s night and day compared to William.”

Evelyn blinked back the sting of tears, nodding even though Martha couldn’t see her. “It’s just hard sometimes, you know? Trusting myself to not mess it all up again.”

“It’s hard because you care,” Martha said gently. “And that’s a good thing. It means this matters to you. But you’re not doing this alone anymore. Logan’s in this with you. Let him be.”

There was a long pause, and Evelyn hesitated, her fingers twisting the phone cord. “There’s... something else,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh,” Martha said, her tone immediately shifting to playful curiosity. “What is it?”

“We were at his place last night. He made dinner, and... well, things got a little... heated.”

“Heated?” Martha repeated, drawing out the word with delight. “How heated are we talking here? Did you...?”

“No, no,” Evelyn interrupted quickly, her voice dropping to a whisper even though she was alone. “But it got... close,really close.”

Martha let out a low whistle. “Look at you. So, what happened?”

“We were just talking, and then one thing led to another,” Evelyn said, her voice faltering slightly. “It was—God, Martha, it was amazing. But then I panicked and pulled back.”

“Did he freak out?”

“No,” Evelyn said softly. “He didn’t push, didn’t make me feel bad. He just held me. I don’t know. It felt different. Like he actually cares.”

Martha let out a dreamy sigh. “Sounds like you’ve got yourself a good one, babe. I mean, if a man can handle that without making it weird, he’s a keeper.”

Evelyn smiled faintly, her fingers tracing the edge of her mug. “I think I’m falling for him, Martha. And that scares the living hell out of me.”

Martha’s voice softened. “It’s okay to be scared. But from everything you’ve told me, Logan’s not going anywhere. He’s patient, he listens, and he clearly cares about you. You just have to let yourself believe you deserve it.”

“I’m trying,” Evelyn said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“And you will,” Martha replied firmly. “You’ve come so far already. Just... don’t overthink it. Let yourself enjoy what you have with him.”

Evelyn nodded, even though Martha couldn’t see her. “Thanks, Martha.”

“Anytime,” Martha said cheerfully. “Now, when do I get to meet this Logan? Because I need to make sure he’s good enough for my best girl.”

“Let’s take it one step at a time,” Evelyn said, laughing lightly. “But I’ll keep you posted.”

“You better,” Martha replied. “And hey—if he cooks, don’t let him go. A man who can handle a stove and look good doing it? That’s a keeper.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes, the tension in her chest loosening further. “I’ll make sure to pass that along.”

“Good,” Martha said, her grin evident even through the phone. “And call me soon. I want all the updates.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Evelyn promised, hanging up the phone and leaning back on her couch.

The weight of the conversation lingered, but it felt lighter now, less like a burden and more like something she could carry.

Chapter 6

______________________________________________________________tagging some amazing people that showed interest on my previous post (if you don't want to be tagged please let me know):

Taglist

@coocoocachewgotscrewed @latinapiscess @littlebunnybigheartfics @themareverine @pandapetals @logansbaby @the-quick-red-fox @throwmethroughawindow @ifyouseethisnoyoudont22 @galacticglitterglue @whos-nin1

@thisismajortom21 @may-vol-6 @Oh-basic @sarahbarbosa22 @luvpalepinkjazz @irish-pooka @yologans @equilight @lxrxvsp @h4nluv @uncannywolverine @thesecretlifeofmo @mystifiesjdmtcw @socisse @thickynicky547 @peculiarpiscess @tezooks @greenturtlegirl @greenbearplaidbow @eummm @benispunk @th8mz @jounal3sports @alsoprettyinpink @softepiloguemylove @manicandobsessive @b-y-3-n @blahkateisdone @karencaribou @sidkneeeee @theworstwolvie @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @lunellas-library @pedroscurls @britttzy267 @aliensfeltmyjoy @steviebbboi

© th3mrskory 2025 — all rights reserved.

[gunilslaugh]

hihi! was wondering if I could request dyeing Junhan’s hair at like idk 3 AM 🙂‍↕️😸

Hello Hello! I hope that you like this!

Han Hyeongjun Summary: Dying Hyeongjun’s hair at 3am when you two should be sleeping. (idol au) WC:640 Warning:none

photo not mine credits to owner.

Browsing the hair dye section at 2:45 am definitely wasn’t what either Hyeongjun or you had planned, but sometimes it was fun to make spontaneous and maybe a little questionable decisions. 

“Won’t the company be mad at you dying your hair without permission though?” you asked with a hint of concern as you inspected a box of dye. 

“I might get scolded a bit, but they’re pretty open about letting us try out hair that we want,” he answered, picking up a box of sapphire black hair dye. 

“Ooh that would look good on you,” you say, taking the box from his hand. “The blue in it will help make the black not look flat and it matches your skin tone well,” you add, holding the box up to his face. 

“I didn’t know you knew so much about hair,” he said with a slight chuckle. 

“I’m no cosmetologist, but I do know a few things,” you shrug. “Do you like this color? Should we get it?” you questioned. 

“Yeah I like it and I trust your opinion,” he smiled. 

“Great , let’s get it,” you smile back at him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Currently you're both in the bathroom of your apartment. Changed into clothes that you guys don’t care about. Your hand gloved up, but you can still feel the coolness of the dye seep through them. Hyeongjun is seated on the edge of the tub as you apply the dye to his head. His eyes are closed, enjoying the feeling of your hands working the dye into his roots. 

“Ah,” you let out, suddenly removing your hands from his hair.

“Are you ok?” Hyeongjun checked, eyes shooting open. 

“Yeah I’m fine, it’s just…” you sniff, scrunching your nose. “My nose itches and I can’t-” you sniff again, shaking your head a little. “Scratch it.” Hyeongjun let’s a relieved breath and a slight laugh. 

“Come here,” he says gently. You crouch down in front of him. He lifts his hand to scratch your nose. “Here?” he asked. 

“Up a little bit.” He moved his hand up. “No wait down-ah right there.” Hyeongjun’s nails satisfy the itch on your nose. “Thanks,” you say standing back up. Your hands resume massaging the dye into his hair. Hyeonjun’s eyes fell closed once more. 

“Now we wait,” you announce, removing the gloves from your hands. After you made sure that his hair was thoroughly covered with the dye.

You set a timer for thirty minutes and Hyeonjun pulls up a playlist for you two to listen to while waiting for the dye to sit in his hair. 

Once the timer rings you turn on the water in the shower, adjusting the temperature and begin to carefully rinse the color from Hyeonjun’s hair, watching as the stained water disappears down the drain. 

“There all done,” you state, setting the towel you were using to dry his hair to the side. The pair of you walked over to the bathroom mirror so that Hyeonjun could see the finished result. “What do you think?” you asked. 

“I like it. You did a good job and you're right I think it suits me,” he replies. 

“It totally does. Villains are gonna freak out,” you say playfully, making Hyeongjun laugh. “Come on, let's take some pictures,” you insist. After snapping some pictures you send them to Hyeongjun, so that he can upload them. 

By the time you're finished cleaning up the sun is starting to peek out from the horizon. You and Hyeongjun can definitely feel the drowsiness starting to kick in. The two of you make yourselves comfortable under the covers of your bed. Knowing that you’ll have to be up in a few hours, but neither of you really care as you wrap your arms around each other whispering out ironic goodnights to each other as the sun rises.

taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143 @seungseung-minmin @junhanism

comment or message me to be added!

[lesbiansforboromir]

The first time I saw this I was all excited when I got to the HERE links like 'oh!!! more denethor positive post recommendations?? :DD' and then the links were me, me and my partner 😂 excitement to disappointment to flattery! Big emotional rollercoaster! But thank you so much for reading and enjoying :) Though there are other tumblr users than me fighting the good denethor fight, anghraine and bretwalda-lamnguin to name two off the top of my head!

The idea that Denethor's final look into the Palantir is a hopeful act literally hasn't occurred to me before, for some reason I never thought too hard about his motivation to do it. Extremely beautiful and heartbreaking take and I fully agree.

I presume the reason you mention it is because it's a part of the video you linked? (which I simply will not watch because I'm sick enough already). Ergo I also presume that the idea Denethor saw the black ships coming up the Anduin in the Palantir and that is what made him lose hope is also from that video? Either way, and I hope you don't mind me rambling on your post, that is a Tom Shippey construction that is actively disproven by the text. Denethor didn't need to use the Palantir in that moment to know the black ships were coming, all of Minas Tirith already knew that!

‘But if you would know what I think set the beacons ablaze, it was the news that came that eve out of Lebennin. There is a great fleet drawing near to the mouths of Anduin, manned by the corsairs of Umbar in the South.' - Beregond, Minas Tirith chapter from RotK

One could make the argument that they didn't yet know the fleet would make it up the Anduin, that they thought Pelargir might stall them, but even in that regard it's just not that great of a shock to find ships you knew were coming... are coming! And Pelargir's capture was already complete by the time Aragorn arrived, so really how much of a doomful surprise would this have been to Denethor?

AND! I don't even think it is reasonable to put such certainty into the idea that Denethor, in looking at the Palantir for the ships, wouldn't see Aragorn captaining them. The Palantir, when wielded by someone of rightful skill (a thing Denethor absolutely had) can see such detail as to pick out a ring on a person's finger according to the Palantir essay. And one could claim he simply was too much 'in despair' to look that closely, but still! It all makes the claim quite shadey.

More likely to me, and supported more by textual inference, is that Denethor saw Frodo captured by orcs in Cirith Ungol and that is what broke him. The timeline matches precisely, Frodo being captured on the 13th of March, the very same day Faramir is wounded and Denethor looks into the stone. And Denethor... tells us he saw this!

‘Comfort me not with wizards!’ said Denethor. ‘The fool’s hope has failed. The Enemy has found it, and now his power waxes; he sees our very thoughts, and all we do is ruinous.'

And here too! Before Denethor talks about the ships, he says;

‘Pride and despair!’ he cried. ‘Didst thou think that the eyes of the White Tower were blind? Nay, I have seen more than thou knowest, Grey Fool. For thy hope is but ignorance.

Like the mention of the fleet is more of an afterthought addition that Denethor includes, when what he is talking about is 'the Power that now arises [against which] there is no victory'.

Denethor knows all about the fellowship by now, he already called it a foolish plan to begin with. But within the framing you give of Denethor's look into the Palantir being one of hope, looking for any chance that their fight will have been worth it, the attempt to search for Frodo in Mordor..... is absolutely heartbreaking! And like... THIS is the kind of thing you see in a Palantir that makes you lose all hope. The ringbearer is captured, naked and powerless in the hands of the enemy. And nude as he is, you can see clearly he has no ring. The enemy has found it, how can there be any other explanation? It was all for nought, how could Gandalf have been so foolish? He has doomed them all. It is purely his vanity that makes him believe he could win now. LIKE. THE AGONY!!!!

This kind of Denethor discourse is so frustrating to me that I am literally pacing back and forth like a panther in a zoo enclosure. Ugggggggghhhhh

A lot of people will tell you that the moral of The Lord of the Rings is “never lose hope,” and that Denethor is bad because he loses hope.

Please read THIS and THIS and especially THIS, which is one of the most beautiful and heartbreaking meditations on LotR you’ll ever read. Tolkien’s ideas about hope are so much more radical than “hope good despair bad.”

Denethor—Tolkien’s Denethor, not Peter Jackson’s Denethor—is unsettling because he tries to hope, but his hope isn’t strong enough to save him. Here are his thoughts on hope, just a few days before his death:

The time will not be long. In what is left, let all who fight the Enemy in their fashion be at one, and keep hope while they may, and after hope still the hardihood to die free.

Denethor has a more “realist” worldview than Gandalf or Faramir, but he’s not a nihilist. He’s still hanging onto hope even though he’s grieving Boromir and he’s positive that Frodo is going to be captured by Sauron. He only breaks when Faramir is mortally wounded and he sees the black ships in the palantir. And I don’t mean he gives up, I mean his mind snaps:

And as [Pippin] watched, it seemed to him that Denethor grew old before his eyes, as if something had snapped in his proud will, and his stern mind was overthrown.

Tolkien repeatedly uses language like “madness,” “madman,” “he is not himself” and “his mind was overthrown.” It’s not subtle!

Denethor is having a psychotic episode. His culpability is reduced, either partially or totally; we can’t know for certain. But I don’t think that everything he says and does in his last moments is “the real Denethor.”

We can do our best and try to have hope, but sometimes life crushes us. How are we supposed to live with the knowledge that this can happen?

Tolkien was haunted by the idea of heroes who fail, heroes who are crushed by their burdens:

Frodo indeed 'failed' as a hero, as conceived by simple minds: he did not endure to the end; he gave in, ratted. (Letter 246)

….I think it can be observed in history and experience that some individuals seem to be placed in 'sacrificial' positions: situations or tasks that for perfection of solution demand powers beyond their utmost limits, even beyond all possible limits for an incarnate creature in a physical world – in which a body may be destroyed, or so maimed that it affects the mind and will. Judgement upon any such case should then depend on the motives and disposition with which he started out, and should weigh his actions against the utmost possibility of his powers, all along the road to whatever proved the breaking-point. (Letter 246)

Tolkien himself tended to judge Denethor harshly, but the character fits very well into the same template as Frodo: a “sacrificial” person who is pushed beyond his limits. The palantir aged him and weakened his mental health, but what truly pushed him over the edge was the wounding of Faramir: Tolkien says that Denethor “maintained the integrity of his personality until the final blow of the (apparently) mortal wound of his only surviving son.”

It’s easy to judge Denethor for using the palantir (although Tolkien said that he had the right to use it and Gandalf admitted that the palantir’s knowledge had often proved useful!) but what should Denethor have done differently regarding sending Faramir into battle? We know that the defense of Osgiliath was necessary because Tolkien had the Rohirrim arrive at the exact moment the Witch King is about to ride through the gate of Minas Tirith. If Faramir hadn’t delayed Mordor’s army, the Rohirrim would have showed up to a conquered city.

Denethor believed that it was necessary to send Faramir to Osgiliath… and he was right! But the pain of being responsible for Faramir’s death was too great for him to bear. You can say that his craving for information killed him, but it’s just as accurate to say that his love for Faramir killed him.

Gandalf tells Denethor’s servants that they were “caught in a net of warring duties,” and this is also true of Denethor. His duty as a father conflicts with his duty as the leader of Gondor, and the strain destroys him.

It may be true that Denethor’s need for control is a character flaw, but I wonder about his final use of the palantir. His son appears to be dying: why does he leave his side to go look in the palantir? I actually think this was a hopeful act: Denethor was hoping to see the Rohirrim, or some kind of good news about the war, some indication that Faramir’s death would not be in vain. But the palantir shows him that he sent his son to die for nothing.

It’s the tragedy of Denethor lamenting “I sent my son forth, unthanked, unblessed, out into needless peril” and dying before he can learn that the battle wasn’t needless… you can’t reduce this tragedy to a morality play!

Okay, I can’t deny that the palantir is a very topical analogy for the internet/smartphones/the tyranny of “data” in general.

But Denethor is so much more than a blackpilled internet doomer, and I will defend him forever.

[skyrim-forever]

Sujamma Sundas

Thank you @sulphuricgrin for the tag and lovely, eerie scene <3

Tagging: @theoneandonlysemla @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @dirty-bosmer @pocket-vvardvark @changelingsandothernonsense @scholarlyhermit

[This week Sujamma has been brushing up on his literacy. It's hard being a humble Nix-Hound. Reading doesn't come naturally to him, but he's doing his best! This week Sujamma is hoping you will help him learn to read!

Post a favorite scene, favorite sentence, favorite dialogue, favorite anything from any fic you've written! If you haven't written any fic, feel free to share your ideas. If you don't have any, recommend a friend's fic!]

I've decided to share this scene from Chapter 3 of my AU fic These are no times for people like us aka my angsty AU about what if their son grew up without a father. This scene is after an argument between Theodora and her son as he's come home to find a certain mer a bit too close to his mother and Ondolemar is taking what might be the one opportunity he has.

There’s nowhere for Arthano to go, nowhere other than out into the darkness. Howling rain and wind, the waves aggressive from sound alone as the night hides them. So he doesn’t go anywhere, choosing instead to kick at the sand in a feeble attempt to take out the anger. Though the dents he makes are unsatisfying, still so much emotion in him, the young man collapses along the shoreline letting the tears fall in the comfort of the night. The rain added extra deniability if anyone were to see him. The sound of footsteps behind him, not hearing them until they are too close, proves someone is here. 

“Go away Mother, I’ve heard enough from you. You like keeping secrets so keep your thoughts a secret as well.”

“You should not speak to your mother like that.” Him. In spite of the rain, the match inside him is lit again, so is the flames spell he readies as he stands up. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are you fucking piece of shit?” 

“The object of your ire.” What? Again, confusion washes over him. “You are angry at your mother for keeping what I am a secret, you are angry that she would associate with me at all. Further, you are angry at the Thalmor for how your life specifically has been affected, in all of those I am the common denominator. Your ire is with me, not your mother. Keep it focused on me.” Feeling the fire at his fingertips, Arthano agrees. 

“You’re right, you are the problem.”

Magical ability was innate to Altmer, the only thing Arthano really appreciated about that part of him. Where others struggled with the practicals, it came naturally for him. His old mentor Voranil had taught him a lot about conjuration, even more of enchanting which had been his specialty. An old friend of his mother’s Teldryn Sero taught him destruction when the Altmer he looked to as a father revealed his true colours. That had been easy too. All manners of fire and lighting he could make; it felt powerful to do such a thing, being on the receiving end much less so. As he pulls his arm back with the intent to rid himself the problem, the other simply grabs his wrist and lightly twists. Not causing any pain but making the flames dissipate to the younger’s shock.

“What did you-”

“Have you killed anyone?” 

“No…” But you have . 

“Then I wouldn’t recommend picking it up now.” He removes his hand. “If nothing else, be better than myself in that regard.” 

“I am better than you.” 

“Of course you are, already leagues braver than I was at your age. Though I wanted to kill my father, I never put any plans into action; you, however, saw the moment and seized it. Quick thinking, smart.”

It would seem much of what his mother told him was true about the mer in front of him. 

“Your paternal grandfather was not good to his family, he lied, gambled, stole, cheated, had no morality. Your father spent his whole life trying to escape his legacy, replace it with his own.” Maybe they could share this one thing in common, aside from the obvious of their appearance, hatred of their fathers. Now, they could even share the desire to escape their legacy. But it is odd, everything about him was odd, that he commends him for trying to burn him to a crisp, the fact that wouldn’t work due to the heavy downpour doesn’t matter. An attempt on his life was just made and he was… proud of him? Was that what it was? And why does the thought of it ease the weight of the earlier revelation? 

[ethosiab]

So played anymore Hades?

Yeah! I've gotten about 5-6 chambers through asphodel now! The meg fight was kind of hard but it was good because it wasnt the kind of first boss fight where it felt like i had no chance? like it gave a good challenge, but i wasn't getting absolutely destroyed as i found with some other roguelikes

[hyunpic]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HYUNJIN 🖤

[coolnonsenseworld]

Samurai and Ninja in crappy pics because December here is under a constant cloud and I just want y'all to see them all golden and cute without learning how to take aesthetic pictures 🥴 💙❤️😆🥰

linktr.ee/Mezzy