#like I love our disaster party but Damn

[threepandas]

Bad End: The Nunnery

The Queen's portrait was a magnificent thing. A masterpiece of light and color, detail and delicate symbolism. She was immortalized. Forever in the prime in her life. The height of her beauty. Regal and magnificent as the day the King first saw her.

She was gazing to the left, face cool, and too those who might not know her? She might even seem cold. But, according to her? She had been a WRECK. Terribly nervous that she would trip or embarrass herself. She had been, after all, new to this country. Still uncertain. Standing before a VERY important figure in both the social and political circles of her new home.

So she defaulted to her "princess mask" as she called it.

Focused on her maid.

It? Was one of many such stories the Queen has told me. Over tea. On walks in her garden. Practicing etiquette or dancing. At meals. The King often joining in fondly. Reminiscing about those earnest and awkward early days in their marriage. Assuring me that my own will be just as warm and lovely.

But...

I know it will not.

Otome games. Oh, otome games. Why did I ever love you? What could I have done to anger you so? That you would cast me in to a role such as this? The woman to be scorned. Who must dedicate her life, work and work and WORK... only to have it all ripped away. Have everything she's ever known stolen by some upstart. One with no training, no support, no IDEA of what she's doing.

Who will lead everyone and everything to disaster, RUIN, with her careless tounge and unthinking ways.

Too Rule is not a GAME.

It is a SACRIFICE.

The crown not some trinket you wear just to match your DRESS! The crown prince some man you marry for mere LOVE! If love comes, you are blessed. Lucky. But the reality is? You sit on a chair that bleeds you dry. Beneath a crown of suffering. Asked to make impossible choices. Blamed for things beyond your control. Expected to live, bleed, then die there.

With some gods damned DIGNITY.

Can she do that? CAN SHE? Your pretty, flower brained, indecisive child of a lover? The one who is so "different" and so "carefree"? Who's lives has she held in her hands? What futures? Does she even KNOW who our current trade partners are? What the tax on sheep's wool is?

For that matter...

Where were YOU?

No. My husband to be? Will never marry me. I know there will be no happy ending here. And... and it hurts. Because dispite KNOWING my "role"? My destiny? Time moves slowly. Day by day. And I have a schedule to keep. A part I must play.

Unlike my Cannon counterpart, I am not haughty. Nor am I cruel. I behave as best I can, for a young lady of my station. Dignity, compassion, but with leadership. I am being trained, after all, to be the future Queen.

I play with my young brother-in-laws. Rolling balls in the flower garden. Clapping games. Listening to them practicing their reading. And as they grow, practicing their swords. I attend my lessons. Attend the rare party. Barely see my birth parents, who were only too happy to all but sell me off for power.

And my fiance?

Can barely tolerate me.

Cruel "jokes" and mud. Only getting angrier when I do not shriek and howl like the upset child he expected I would be. The more he gets punished for trying to torment me, the worse a witch I apparently am. Clearly, having planned it all. His poor mother is distraught. His father furious with his tutors. Who is allowing this behavior, they wonder? It is certainly not them.

But they can not be everywhere. So instead, I am brought where they can supervise. I do not mind. Find quite joy in how the Queen plays with my hair instead of her fan. How the King will pick me up, when I was small enough, to place me on his lap and show me his work. Then sets aside a chair, so we may "work together" as though my lesson's work could ever rival his own in importance.

They had wanted a daughter.

Love their sons.

But...and here they always trail off. The weight of something heavy and unsaid passing between them. The King hand usually warm, cradling, on my head. They do not want to say it. Worry me so young. Or worse, traumatize me.

After all... the King's family has a nasty paternal lineage trait, in which boys tend to try and kill the competition. Be it their siblings, parent's, or sons. They don't... share well. It had been flavor text in the game. For the "only kind to me" type prince.

Daughters however? Generally normal. Tend to take after their mothers.

The King had widely been known to want twenty and maybe a prince... if he HAD too.

They got several prince's instead. Worse, it had nearly killed her Grace to give birth to them. After that? The King refused to try again. Turned his hopes to his future daughters-in-law instead. It... it was beyond what I could have ever dreamed.

It was WARM. Dream like.

Gentle.

They radiated the sort of strength and dignity that made you WANT to listen. To lean into them and be protected. Sitting with the Queen in her parlor, side by side, as I leaned against her? Cradled against soft fabric and rich dyes. Her unique perfume delicately filling the air like tendrils of mist in a dream, the scent of tea and the melodic hum of her voice as she talked. It was like a beautiful trance sometimes.

Or when the King took me riding on his massive beast of a warhorse, just because he knew I loved the scared up old menace. I had to sit practically in his lap, side saddle, because the old grouch was a gremlin who wouldn't behave otherwise. But WOULD let me pet them with enough bribes.

I... I tried to be a good child.

A daughter they could think fondly off.

And... and I knew it would HURT. It would HURT so, so fucking bad. Not to lose my ASS of a fiance. No, he was a fool. But... but to lose the closest thing I had to parents in this world. I... I didn't want to go...

But.

BUT!

If I must? Then I would be well trained. Have a spotless reputation and dignity befit a royal. His Majesty could no doubt help me find a new engagement befitting my station. And I doubted her Grace would just toss me aside. I... I hoped.

When the Protagonist came? It was every nightmare I'd ever had. Endless scandal and horrifying indignity. Even my political rivals, my social foes, were grimacing. Were taking me aside to "freshen my make up" so I wouldn't have to see my intended behaving so... unforgivably.

Just fornicate in public, why don't you?

Can't be any LESS subtle.

I held the fiancee of the heir to Minister of Defense, a lovely girl I had known but not well, as she wept. The son of the prime minister's fiancee stared, grim faced, into the distance. She had come from several nations away as part of an alliance. I offered her my guest rooms. Whatever she should need.

Things spiraled.

They played out their happly little love story. Acting as fluttering children as their actions caused chaos and destruction all around them. She refused to choose. Somehow her father allowed this. I kept myself in the public eye, knowing better then to hide, for all that I desperately wished too. It payed off.

Someone tried to frame me. Spread terrible rumors about henious acts. To bad that everyone had SEEN me suffering with dignity and grace, in public where they could watch me.

It seems I was not the only one to reincarnate.

Why could not just be happy? Fall "in love" and steal one live from one soul? Was your greed so great? Did it really anger you that much? That I would not play along?

It certainly angered His Majesty, the rumors. They were unforgivable, according to Her Grace. But... BUT, sadly, the girl was pregnant. And the idiot was their son. The other idiots their allies foolish, foolish offspring. What could be done?

Simple.

Send them to His Majesty's brother.

It was, after all, tradition to spread out after coming of age. What with the whole "I want you dead" tendency that ran in their family. All the better so as to not step on metaphorical toes, as it were. And the King? Had one surviving (for now) brother. The high priest of the High Northern Temple. Good and remote.

Perfect for banishment and a life of reflection.

That, however, left me I reminded them. I was met with matching smiles. Adopted or marry the next youngest prince! Obviously. Ah. I see. But wouldn't that be-?

The queen takes me arm, tucking it in hers, and tells me not to worry about it. Leads me towards the gardens. Have I seen the new flowers they've just ordered? They are quite lovely. I had not. I let myself be distracted. Lean my head against the Queens shoulder as we walk. And finally... relax.

I'm safe.

The Queen smiles. We are joined by the King, his expression warm. I feel at peace. Protected. Treasured. I love them so much. A warm and perfect family. I'm glad I don't have to leave. I say as much and they laugh, hugging me.

"Oh, of COURSE Darling! We would NEVER let you go!"

"That's right, my dearest. You're here forever."

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Claimed by the Devil

Small Creatures, Chapter 1

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: When the well-known vigilante of Hell’s Kitchen saves you from disaster, you realize he might mean more to you than you thought.

warnings: swearing, Matt Murdock’s self-destructive tendencies, mentions of a cult and subsequent trauma, allusions to drowning

a/n: This is it, y’all! A Matt Murdock soulmate AU as requested by that poll a few weeks ago. A HUGE shoutout to @zomtart for helping me plan this AU!! I am so excited to share this new verse with you, I really hope you like it! As always, please let me know what you think by replying and reblogging! This chapter takes place about a month before the beginning of Daredevil S2.

w/c: 4.1k

“For small creatures such as we, the vastness is only bearable through love.” Carl Sagan

Since the creation of man, each soul was created with another. Two, sometimes more, mirrored fractions of a whole, destined to forge a bond. Particles of a spiritual atom, drawn to each other by invisible forces, finally satisfied through connection. Soulmates. Each body marked with a symbol, to help them find their other half. Sometimes a word or a shape, a small clue to start their journey.

For a while, that journey was short. It would still take time, of course, to meet your soulmate, to fall in love—but it took less than one lifetime, while the world was still small, the human race still growing.

After a few generations, and centuries of invention, the population began to travel. Groups of people living on all 6 continents, developing new cultures, traditions, languages. As they moved, the average distance between bound pairs grew. It became less common to ever meet your match. Humanity found love in other places, built families on opposite sides of the globe, living their entire existence without their intended.

With each non-bound couple, came children without bonds. Scientists have puzzled over the phenomenon for years, some drawing the conclusion that our biology began to reject the bond, to continue without it as if it was a recessive gene. Through countless wars and plagues, and the continued spread of humanity, finding your soulmate was almost an impossibility.

And then the pendulum swung back. Wars became fewer, food more prevalent, medicine more exact. Lifespans were stretched and, with the help of machines, it was easier than ever to find your soulmate. The damage of an era without them began to repair itself.

Within 5 generations, chances of forming a true bond soared from one in one-thousand to one in thirty.

A sharp vibration from your laptop interrupted the voice in your head. Glancing at the bubble that flashed across your screen, you rolled your eyes at the message. It was the seventh—yes, SEVENTH—in a string of emails from the same haughty woman demanding the pictures of her great aunt's 90th birthday party.

The party was beautiful, and the photos reflected that, but it had been less than 48 hours since the event. Every contract you signed gave you a window of 5-7 business days to edit the photos, more time depending on the length of the shot list you were given and the number of pictures they wanted. If this woman wanted professional, edited photos, she needed to give you a damn break.

Clicking on the small white cross in the corner of the pop-up, you huffed out a small laugh, imagining the fuming woman growing redder in the face when you didn't answer her at 4:02 on a Sunday afternoon. Setting your own hours, as well as being able to ignore frustrating clients during your down time, were just two of the perks of running your own photography business. The flexible schedule and lack of strict routine were a welcomed change after your upbringing in a highly controlled community.

While you did understand why experts used that terminology, you were much more content calling your “community” what it was: a cult. “High control group”—or whatever other politically-correct, secular terminology people wanted to use to describe a bunch of adults deciding to use their limited power to exploit others in the name of some bogus goal—was too polite for the assholes from your hometown. The bumfuck rural town where “religious” leaders congregated to torture dozens of children over a tiny, immovable mark on their skin.

A brand of the devil. That’s what they claimed soulmarks were. The sign of a being destined for evil. And, in order to save humanity from said evil, it was up to this specific community to cleanse you of your threatening aura, to rid the demonic energy from your body and spare your soul.

They’d used written and verbal propaganda, forbid outside contact, relied heavily on fear-mongering—the whole nine yards of brainwashing, all to supposedly grant the town salvation. Given that your particular mark was on the inside of your right wrist? Well, it definitely didn’t help the “damned” accusations coming your way.

Something flashed across your mind. A memory. Tepid water, turning frigid as you were forced deeper and deeper. All traces of oxygen slowly draining from your lungs, your body struggling desperately against the hands gripping you forcefully by the arms, holding you under.

Shuddering with discontent, your mark itched fiercely, as if it was trying to snap you out of the flashback. Absentmindedly dragging a nail over it to quell the unpleasant sensation, you inhaled deeply, studying the image as you did.

It was a simple thing, a series of a few lines just over the pulse point on your forearm. Two triangles, placed horizontally and pointing away from each other, with three small straight lines fanning out beneath. From your limited knowledge, it was a rune of some sort, though you hadn’t been able to narrow down the origin or meaning quite yet. Not scary enough to warrant the actions taken by your wonderful hometown though.

After surviving, and escaping, your upbringing, a lack of a rigid schedule was a necessity—which meant freelance event photography was a perfect career path. Unfortunately, an anxious mind and spontaneity didn't always mix.

It didn't matter that you didn't hear the messaging daily anymore. You were still struggling to unravel the mind games and indoctrination you'd been subjected to, hence the re-reading of this particular article. It wasn't the most informative, and the author clearly had a fully-realized bond herself, but it was the first piece of literature you'd ever read that wasn't propaganda.

There was a historical explanation for the disappearance of your condition, as well as a documented existence of others like you. Your mark didn't make you evil—it meant you were loved.

You re-read the blurb on days like today. Days where your conscience buzzed with apprehension, adrenaline flowing freely despite the lack of danger. There was something in the air around you. A warning, illustrated by the tiniest changes in your environment. On days like these, you felt like a bug beneath a descending shoe, scrambling to understand what was coming so you could make it out alive.

Expecting a disaster was illogical, you knew that. But reason wasn't the driving force in your brain on the anxious days. It was your desperate need to survive, to be prepared. On your bad days, your eyes flew open like you'd heard the door come crashing in or felt the cold steel barrel of a pistol against your temple—your body readying for a fight before you were even fully conscious.

Those days, your heart hammered in your chest, battering your ribs until they ached. Your lungs constricted when your blood pressure rose, each breath coming as a pant as you struggled to inhale enough oxygen. One wrong move and you'd send yourself spiraling into a full anxiety attack. Hopefully, you'd at least be able to stave that off over the last hour of daylight today.

Chewing at the edge of your thumbnail, you aimlessly scrolled through the page again, blowing out a terse sigh. The biggest annoyance when it came to your anxiety was that each experience was unique. There wasn't a universal solution. Sometimes, staying at home where it was familiar and safe was all you needed to settle your nerves. Other times, the constancy only made you more jittery.

As much as you'd wished that a sedentary day would slow your pulse and ease your breathing, that clearly was not in the cards.

Time for Plan B.

Growling almost inaudibly, you resisted the urge to start pulling your hair out strand by strand. Working up the energy to get through the door was always the hard part. As exhibited by your professional side, freedom to roam and choose your own path was vital. Despite your nervous brain trying to deny it, leaving your place to wander on a small adventure would be good for you in the long run.

When you'd escaped the clutches of the nutjobs running your old neighborhood, you'd made a promise to yourself–try at least one new thing every week. It seemed childish, but you'd missed out on so many things when under the control of the Order, you wanted to make up for that. Pretty quickly, it became clear that you thrived on flexibility and exploration.

So you kept up with it. Made a list of things in case you ever ran out of inspiration or couldn't decide what to choose next. That line of scribbles in a worn notebook came in handy on days where you disappeared into yourself, where you lacked the excitement that normally accompanied your little outings. Allowing the intense reluctance in your gut to churn, you reached for the leatherbound pages, sliding the book from where it lay on the coffee table and into your lap. Heaving out a breath, despite your protesting lungs, you thumbed through the paper, letting the smell of ink and coffee-stained parchment wash over you.

You weren't looking for something big. And the idea had to be plausible, there would be no mountain climbing or language learning in a single evening. Trailing a finger to the side of the dried ink, you skimmed each bullet point, eyes lingering on a particularly messy string of words.

“Golden Skyline Ink 48”

Thankfully, the gibberish you'd immortalized was recent enough that you could decipher it. Sunset photos of the skyline from the Ink 48 Hotel. You'd swung by the prestigious building for a meeting with a potential client, but you'd been too busy to snap a decent shot from the roof before your next errand of the day.

Pondering for a minute, you decided to go with your hesitant gut instinct. You craned your neck, hunting down your camera bag as you rolled your shoulder to unravel the tension balled up in them. Shoving up from your horizontal position on the couch, you closed your laptop and shuffled towards the door. Hefting the bag into your arms, you strode down the entryway.

Your hand reached for the doorknob at a snail's pace, halting mere inches from it as if the brass had a forcefield around it. ”You can do this.“ You muttered to yourself, forcing your fingers past the barrier and around the knob.

Stepping through the door, you flinched at the bright fluorescence of the hallway lights, hissing slightly like a vampire seeing the sun in a cheesy TV show. Swallowing the flash of pain in your head as the lights continued to beam down, you took another step. Here goes nothing.

Matt was grateful for the new body armor. He was, really.

He just wished Melvin’s talents included making the damn thing breathable. He’d never admit that, of course. On the spectrum of pain he lived with, being a bit overheated was closer to the bearable end. It wasn’t a stab wound or a broken bone, it wouldn’t impede his patrolling. If he could work through a punctured lung, he could handle a little sweating.

But when the nights got quiet and slow, it was more difficult to keep his mind from latching on to the discomfort–blown out of proportion by his fickle senses.

Sitting atop an apartment building on 55th Street, Matt could feel pure thermal energy bubbling up from the concrete beneath his feet. The waves of heat collided with his shoes, seeping into the rubber soles and blanketing his skin. Around him, the short ledge wrapping around the roof refracted more warmth, sending the sweltering air to smack directly into him.

He wasn't a fan of the heat, never had been, but the thick, skin-tight suit he was wearing only exacerbated the issue. Sweat beaded in the paper-thin gap between his skin and the fabric surrounding it, suctioning it impossibly closer to his body. Grinding his teeth in aggravation, Matt prowled to the edge of the roof, leaping off and rolling to deflect the impact from shattering any of his limbs. With a quick jump, he was back on his feet, taking off towards the next building in the line.

If he patrolled towards the Hudson and back around, he could escape the worst of the heat without neglecting his duty to the city.

Not that there was much action these days. The past handful of weeks, his outings in the suit had been unusually unproductive. It wasn’t that he was missing out on fights–it’s that they didn’t exist. Gangs were staying holed up, petty crime had taken a dive, even the steady drug or arms traders like Turk had gone radio silent. As much as Matt wanted to believe that his time as Daredevil had made a lasting impact on the city he loved so dearly, a current of doubt continued to whirl beneath his skin.

Crime was more likely in the summer, that was an inevitability. Increased temperatures shortened people’s fuses. Spats with loved ones were more likely to turn violent, miscellaneous expenses are more likely to add up and cause financial distress, it was statistically probable that he’d have busier nights leading up to the fall. And yet, here he was, twiddling his glove-clad thumbs while metaphorical tumbleweeds were swept down the streets.

He was confident something had changed, but he hadn’t quite determined what. So, despite the lack of problems he felt the need to solve, he continued to remain out until all hours, ears straining to pick up a scream or the explosive pop of a bullet leaving the barrel of a gun.

Body on high alert, he ambled towards the piers, vaulting from roof to roof in a familiar trajectory while his brain fought off an incoming onslaught of guilt at the notion of staying out. Foggy would be furious tomorrow, when he saw Matt gulping down the cheap coffee from their machine–which was held together by masking tape and sheer luck these days. Matt had foolishly admitted his conundrum to his business partner, remarking that the city had been eerily still lately, that there was less of a need for him. That he’d been searching so urgently for justification that he’d been going out before dusk.

The idea that Matt’s nighttime activity was no longer an absolute necessity had upset the tenuous understanding the pair had reached over said activity. A simple slip of his tongue and Matt was on the receiving end of Foggy’s chastising, being told he should take advantage of the lull and “get some goddamned rest for once”. (Foggy’s words, not his own.) The renewed argument had become such a frequent topic of discussion that Karen had almost been clued in a few times when Matt’s frustration had narrowed his senses. Just that morning, he and Foggy had been going at it when she’d arrived at the office, surprising both of them with her bright greeting and intrigued glance.

Hurling himself to the next rooftop, Matt huffed out an aggravated breath, clenching his fists as his muscles tightened with irritation, his friend’s desperate pleas echoing in his head.

“You can’t keep going like this.”

“You’re hurting yourself for nothing.”

“The city will be fine without you.”

That last one stung the most, ripping open an invisible wound he’d crudely stitched after taking down Fisk. His work had helped people. His infamous alter ego was the final straw in the case against the organized criminal, imperative to his arrest. To the people of this city, Daredevil mattered–which meant Matt Murdock mattered.

If he boxed up the suit…

No. That wasn’t an option. He couldn’t–

The shuffle of a shoe on concrete caught his attention, snapping him out of his downward spiral. His chest trembled as he panted in and out, his shallow breaths deepening as he focused in the direction of the noise. He wasn’t alone.

Mouth parting as his atypical radar closed in, his nose scrunched with slight confusion, brow furrowing with concern. There was a person perched on the brick ledge–a woman, balancing on her tiptoes and facing the city. She hadn’t noticed him, her pulse far too slow. Her hands held something blocky, the plastic object dragging along her skin as she positioned it, arms outstretched over the nearly 20 story drop to the pavement below.

He bit back an incredulous scoff as she bent further towards her death, practically rolling his eyes to the heavens as he approached. Not only was this position begging for disaster to strike, she had one headphone in, her lips moving as if mouthing along to the lyrics. She heaved in a dramatic exhale.

“Let’s try this again,” She murmured, finger slotting into a divot on an edge of the thing in her grasp, prompting a series of mechanical clicks to burst from it. Shutter sounds. A camera. A camera? You were risking your life for a photo?

Before he could judge you too harshly, your mouth twitched and your heart rate jumped. You’d realized he was there, then.

“You know, if you fall off that ledge, the effort you went through for that picture will be wasted.” He quipped, his lips twitching with a hint of a smirk as you squeaked indignantly.

It was only amusing for a moment.

As you whirled to face him, apparently surprised that he was there, you lost your footing, tumbling backward off the ledge.

For what it was worth, your little adventure had been going pretty well before the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen almost killed you.

There weren’t too many people out tonight, probably because it was disgustingly hot, so you’d made good time–jogging the few blocks to the hotel and sneaking into the elevator with a young couple who were too busy being at each other’s throats to care that you slipped in. The roof was vacant and more perfect than you could’ve dreamed. Swathed in the lights of nearby skyscrapers, you were presented with a gorgeous panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline at sunset, the stark red-orange hue of the sky peeking between towering steel.

Once you’d attached the proper lenses, you began snapping photos, but you couldn’t get the exposure to set correctly. To capture a good picture at this time of evening, you needed the settings to be just so. It was a tedious, attention-consuming process, that, when combined with the soft music blasting from your lone earbud, had prohibited you from hearing someone approach…until he spoke.

“You know, if you fall off that ledge, the effort you went through for that picture will be wasted.” His growl was low, but contained traces of a humor you weren’t expecting.

Damn your anxious self for startling so easily. With a tiny squeal, you slipped from the ledge, your careful posture crumbling as you fell. Your heart lodged in your throat, air rushing into your ears as you began to descend, but before you could even scream, a pair of warm hands grasped you firmly by the arm.

Face jerking up, your eyes locked onto the masked vigilante’s snarl of exertion as he hauled you over the cement shelf and onto stable ground.

Breathing shakily, still in his grip, your face went slack with a nauseating combination of shock and relief. “Th-thank you.”

He let out a puff of a laugh. “You’re welcome. That was a close call. Do I need to call a hotline?”

His lips twitched with a smirk, his face clearly displaying humor despite his eyes being covered by a mask. Head tilted cockily, he seemed to be studying you, maybe evaluating whether you should be in a psych ward.

Shaking your head furiously, you scrambled to your feet, nearly tripping over yourself as you backed away from your savior. “No, I’m good, that wasn’t the plan. I just–”

As you began to retract himself from his hold, his thumb brushed over your forearm, tracing the faintest line over your exposed soulmark. When his fingertip made contact with the lines over your wrist, the world exploded.

When you were a small child, you’d electrocuted yourself when unplugging a lamp. It was an act of rebellion against your parents when they had demanded you clean up after compulsory bible study. The inflicted shock had careened through your entire body, feeling as though you’d been dipped in boiling water and then flash-frozen as your body tried to adapt to the new current. An abrupt change of temperature, the suddenness uncomfortable but the aftermath numbingly calm.

Touching the Devil felt like that.

Your mark glowed with warmth like embers in a dying fire. The hair along your arm stood on end, your heart nearly bursting with energy as you were clobbered with a realization.

“You..you’re my–” You whispered, taking a step closer to the vigilante.

His hand had clasped around your wrist, holding it delicately, chin dipping towards his chest. His breaths were labored, his complexion seeming to grow more pale as he ran a calloused finger over the mark again.

“I don’t–” Dropping your arm as if it had burned him, Daredevil’s face settled into an angry mask as he hurriedly stepped away from you. “I have to go.”

“W-what?” You stammered, running your hands over your arms as your body recovered from his touch, goosebumps undulating beneath your palms. “But we–”

“It’s late. You should get home before it’s too dark.” He responded tersely, turning away from you. Striding across the roof, his hand landed on top of the short stack of bricks, head turning over his shoulder with a sorrowful pout. “I’m sorry.”

Gracefully jumping over the side, he was gone.

Feeling dumbfounded and slightly defeated, you stared after him for a minute before shouldering your bag and beelining for the fire escape.

Karen stretched her arms over her head, groaning softly as the knot of tension between her shoulders unfurled. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she jiggled the mouse on the desk before her, turning her laptop back on to try and appear busy. After the law firm of Nelson and Murdock put Wilson Fisk behind bars, the clientele began to pour in–though whether that was for their proven representation skills or their shitty but functional AC, she wasn’t sure. Regardless, there had been a steady stream of walk-ins this week. And now that it had finally slowed down, she felt almost disappointed.

Being a secretary at the tiny little office was one of the most interesting things she’d ever done. Each case presented completely new realities, new opportunities and challenges. It was like she was given the chance to start fresh every day, and she was grateful for it. But in moments like these where the people filed out of the crooked doors, it made her a bit antsy.

Foggy and Matt were buried in new evidence for a guardianship revocation, holed up in Matt’s office, leaving her to schedule their appointments. She sighed, contemplating whether or not to interrupt them, to ask for something to do. Depending on when the guys would be heading out, they might want dinner or more coffee…

As she was running through a list of takeout that all of them could stomach, that hadn’t been ordered too recently, her phone’s display lit up, a new message appearing on the lock screen. An anonymous message in a chat board she frequented–one dedicated to opinions about Hell’s Kitchen’s hero, Daredevil. 

When she joined the board, she was solely intending to be a spectator. Unfortunately, the internet made it easier for trolls to share their bullshit opinions. Call the vigilante a threat to justice. Say that he should be put down. There was only so much she could handle before her blood boiled over and she sent her responses. 

These days, she was a pretty active poster. She rarely received private messages though, so the notification set her on edge. 

Hesitantly tapping the glowing bubble, she held her breath as it opened. No context, no identifying information, just two bizarre sentences that she was not prepared for.

“I know this is strange but..I think Daredevil might be my soulmate? And I was hoping you might know where I could find him.”

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase

[epickiya722]

I know that the hatred for Megumi started from him summoning Mahoraga in Shibuya and yeah, it was an irrational decision but...

It's not like Megumi actually took delight in it and even stated he was a part of what happened to Shibuya. The "It's our fault" bit in 144.

But also, let's not act like some other characters are still loved even though they have done equally terrible and even worse things.

In fact, if anyone deserves hate and constantly bashed for the shit they have done it should be the Higher-Ups. If there are a group of people that I hate the most in JJK it's going to be them.

They sent three children on a mission they knew was too ranked high for them just to kill one of them. Who, mind, was doing relatively good.

"But they had a point to kill Yuji because he's Sukuna's vessel."

More like cage. The plan had been for Yuji to be executed AFTER he consumed ALL THE CURSED FINGERS. At the time of that mission, he had only consumed 2. (And if you know, it's actually 3.)

2 out of 20 fingers... THAT WAS 18 MORE LEFT.

Keep in mind, Yuji was able to hold his control over Sukuna. Someone else consuming a finger meant Sukuna easily taking over their body. See how that's a problem?

If anything, the Higher-Ups should have been lucky for someone like Yuji to exist.

But no. It got worse because guess what?

Gakuganji, Principal of the Kyoto school and A HIGHER-UP, assigned his students to assassinate Yuji... DURING AN EVENT.

What was the rational reason? What was it?

"Well, did Yuji let Sukuna out--"

Ah! He wouldn't have had to do that because of who did what? The Higher-Ups sending children on a mission that possibly would have gotten them killed. He was a child who made a bad decision like that because he didn't know what else to do.

Megumi did the same thing. He made a bad decision because he didn't know what else to do.

Yes, people died because of it but let's not act if Megumi didn't do it things would be better.

The time Sukuna spent fighting Mahoraga would still enough time for him to still kill people and cause more destruction even if Mahoraga wasn't summoned. What, was it like Sukuna going to stand there after killing Jogo?

Uh, no. You know damn well he would have went to do some damage to Shibuya because he would have wanted to and still would have taunted Yuji about it.

Even if he didn't, let's not act that Megumi is the sole guilty party because he isn't.

Back to Sukuna, you can not tell me some people didn't already die during that fight against Jogo. I have seen people praise Jogo for holding his own against Sukuna (props to him) but he did still kill people. That big ass meteor definitely did!!

Mahito was still running around, wasn't he? He and the other Disaster Curses along with Choso and Kenjaku were the reason for the whole incident starting in the first place!

So why is Megumi getting the most hate and continously bashed on like he's the one who started the whole thing and was the only one who did damage?

And I know that people also hate Megumi because he's "being a little bitch" right now in the manga... but that is so hard to believe that people really think he's a bitch because HIS BODY AND TECHNIQUE WAS USED TO KILL PEOPLE HE CARES ABOUT AND HIS SOUL IS SINKING INTO AN ABYSS DUE TO SUKUNA'S TOM-FUCKING-FOOLERY.

No way people are actually using that.

I feel some people just want to continue to be on the Megumi hate train and now just throwing any reason to hate him.

"I like being a hater of things."

But all the time though? All the time? That don't sound like a fun time to me. I hate sometimes, but not to be like "oh, let me follow everyone else because this is the new thing we're doing" and I don't feel like I have to express that hate all the time. Sometimes, I do like people who say things like that are just trying to hide the fact they're a part of the crowd that wants to be jerks in a fandom.

But that's just me.

[thoseboysinblue]

My Type

Part 2

Christian Pulisic x reader

You have a chance encounter with Christian, who happens to be just your type.

Word count: 2400+

Requested: No

Warnings: Swearing, drinking

Part 1

"Elllls" you groan collapsing onto the bed beside her, "we have a problem."

"Are you too hungover to function? Because I'm too hungover to function right now," she says turning to face you, "can you turn off the sun please?" she whines as you let out a small laugh.

"No, well yes, I'm hungover and feel like I could die, but I also have a slightly bigger problem," you say, handing her your phone so that she can see the notification.

"Oh shit," she grins, "I told you he'd find you."

"Yeah, I have no clue how he managed that though," scrolling through pictures you were tagged in from the night before. "Damn it Ella, you fucking tagged him didn't you" you huff at her. "I might have, but I didn't actually think he'd see it, he must get a million notifications a day, he was obviously looking for you" she smirks as she gets her own phone out.

"What am I going to fucking do, I can't accept that, but it would be rude not to wouldn't it?"

"Why can't you accept a follow request, y/n, maybe he likes you, and at the very least, it would be a fun story to tell," she chuckles.

"He's got 7 million followers, Ells, that's why, a follow from him is just asking for it," you sigh.

"Maybe it's him asking for it," she winks at you, "for the love, it's just an Instagram request, not a marriage proposal, accept it, see what happens."

"I could kill you for this," you roll your eyes at her.

"Or you can thank me for it" she giggles.

Ella is busy typing away on her phone as you hit accept on his request, not bothering to follow him back.

"Damn it" she sighs, "our boat for today cancelled, I'm going to try to get us booked onto something else." You nod at her, "that sucks, want me to look for something, I hate for you to be the one dealing with this on your bachelorette party, but we can always just do another beach day if it doesn't work out."

"No, I think I've got something else lined up," she smiles.

What you didn't know is, she'd woken up to an Instagram message from Christian:

Christian: hey, thanks for the tag 😉

Ella: hey, no problem, she's already threatened to kill me so you better be worth it 🙄

Christian: I will be, promise. 😇 So, I don't want to crash your party or anything, but what are you guys plans for the day?

Ella: Well, we had a boat booked, but that seems to have fallen through, so maybe just another beach day unless I can find a last minute booking.

Christian: It could be your lucky day...I happen to have a boat, and jet skis, and a pool, and I can have a fully stocked bar if you'll tell me what you guys like to drink. But really, I don't want to crash your party, so no pressure to accept or anything ☺️

Ella: I mean, are you sure you don't mind?

Christian: not at all, really, I'll get some food ordered too, guessing you guys are as hungover as we are, what about drinks?

Ella: we've got tons of alcohol with us we can bring, so just whatever you want will work 😉 you sure you're ok with this?

Christian: Positive. Here's the address. 📍 couple of hours?

Ella: yeah, I'll get this lot moving. See you then, hope this isn't a complete disaster 😭

"Girls," Ella shouts, "we've had a change of plans, our boat cancelled so I've got another one lined up, but it's a 40 minute drive, so we need to be ready for the minibus to pick us up in an hour."

You hear everyone groan and start shuffling around to get ready. After showering, you pull on a fuschia bikini that complements your sun kissed skin perfectly, and leaves very little to the imagination as well as some shorts and a sheer top. You pack your bag for the boat, throwing in your towel, sunscreen, AirPods and a book for when you inevitably need to drown out the rest of the group.

You head to the kitchen and fix mimosas figuring the fastest way to cure your hangover is to have a little bit of a buzz again. After a couple of drinks you all head to your waiting minibus. You climb into the back, listening to everyone chatter about the guys you'd met last night and mostly dodging questions about Christian, the group still none the wiser to who he actually is.

You pop in your headphones and lay your head against the seat and doze off on the drive. When you feel the bus come to a stop you wake up and look around at the clearly residential area you are in, a couple of the girls squeal when they see a few people come out of the house you are at, and Ella turns to you "don't kill me, please" she begs.

"Ella, what the fuck?" you roll your eyes, even though she can't see them through your sunglasses. "Our boat really did cancel and he offered," she smiles devilishly at you. "If this wasn't your party, I'd fucking kill you" you grit your teeth at her as she pulls you from the van.

"It will be fun, I promise," she smiles again, trying to encourage you, "you look hot by the way," she wiggles her eyebrows as Christian walks over and she gives him a quick hug. "Thanks for saving the day," she smiles sweetly at him as he nods, his eyes completely focused on you.

"No problem, glad I could help" he grins at her as she turns to go into the house, "the pool is out back, there's breakfast and drinks waiting in the kitchen," he shouts after her, still not taking his eyes off of you. "Hey, y/n" he offers you a smile leaning in to kiss you on the cheek before you bring your hand to his chest to stop him, " hey, Christian" you mutter pushing past him to head into the house.

Once inside, you grab something to eat, a hard seltzer, and some water before heading out to the pool. You find a lounge chair away from everyone and lay your towel down before shimmying out of your shorts and shirt. You lay down on the chair, popping your headphones back in and turning on some music as you watch everyone through your sunglasses.

You see Christian wander out of the house, shirtless with his swimming trunks slung low over his hips as he talks to a few of the others, damn he looks good, too good, you think to yourself as he scans around, smirking when he sees you. You know he can't see you watching him, but your cheeks flush when you've presumably been caught staring.

A few minutes later, he comes over and sits on the chair next to you, picking your phone up to see what you are listening to before turning off your bluetooth function so that the music is now coming through the speaker of your phone. "Do you mind?" you quip at him, it coming out a little more harsh than you intended. "I like this song" he says, unbothered by your apparent indifference, as you pull your earbuds from your ears and put them back in the case.

You both sit in silence for several minutes, listening to the music, your heart hammering away in your chest as you try really hard not to completely freak out over the fact that this trip is going very differently than you thought it would. "Can I ask you a question?" he says continuing to look straight ahead, his eyes also shielded by a pair of sunglasses, his arms folded behind his head. "I'm guessing you're going to ask your question no matter what I say, so go ahead," you answer him.

"Did you already have that jersey, or did you just buy it for this trip," he smirks turning to look at you, his eyes raking up and down your body as his lips part slightly, tongue grazing along the lower one.

"Neither actually, borrowed it from my brother," you say, turning over and adjusting your chair so that you could lay on your stomach, giving him a good view of your ass that's barely covered by the bottoms you're wearing. "So your brother is a fan, that sounds like a win for me" he chuckles as you roll your eyes and shake your head. He quickly realizes the current view he has of your ass isn't going to do him any favors, so he decides to get in the pool, but before he does he leans down to say lowly in your ear, "be careful in this Florida sun, y/n, you don't want to get burned." He runs and does a cannonball into the pool splashing you in the process, to which you just raise your middle finger in his general direction and hear him let out a hearty laugh.

After a while, you sit up and decide you probably should put on some more sunscreen. You chug down about half of your water and then set about rubbing yourself down. Just as you finish with your front side, Christian comes back over and sits down, offering you another of the hard seltzers you'd been nursing. You take it from him and mumble a thanks, cracking it open and taking a long drink.

"Do me?" he says nonchalantly. "Pardon?" you sputter nearly choking on your drink. "Sunscreen, I need some, I can feel my shoulders burning," he smirks cocking an eyebrow at you. You start to hand him the tube of sunscreen but he shakes his head at you, "my hands are full" he says, holding up his beer and phone. You roll your eyes and sit down behind him, your legs draped over each side of the chair so that he's sitting between them.

You take a deep breath and squeeze some of the sunscreen out onto your fingers, slowly starting to work it onto his shoulders and back, smirking to yourself at the low moan he lets slip past his lips. "Can I ask you a question?" you say quietly as you continue trailing your hands over his exposed upper body. "Mmmhmm" he says as his head falls forward completely lost in the feel of your hands on him. "Why are you doing this?"

His head snaps back up and he turns to look at you, "Doing what?"

"This, inviting us here, giving up whatever plans you had to spend the day with a bachelorette party of people you don't know?"

"Well, I actually didn't have any plans to give up, we are doing exactly what I was going to do no matter if we had other people over or not, and my new bff Ella, was in a crisis and needed a boat, which I happen to have," he grins at you.

"Have I done something to upset you?" he says, taking the sunscreen from you and gesturing for you to switch places with him. He scoots backwards, giving you a place to sit between his legs as he starts to rub some onto your shoulders. "No, I'm not upset, just not sure what I'm doing here," you mumble, "surely you've got other prospects you could be entertaining."

Your breath hitches as he slides his hands under the strings on the back of your bikini, "maybe I do, and maybe I don't, but is it so bad to think that just maybe, I wanted to get to know you a little better, you aren't like anyone I've met, and that intrigues me."

"Why, because I'm not throwing myself at you?" you scoff.

"That is a bit refreshing actually," he chuckles. "But, no, it's not just that, I'd be willing to bet we have a lot more in common than you think, y/n."

"What could we possibly have in common, Christian? We are obviously from two very different worlds," you sigh. "Well, for starters, I think we both prefer to stay home over going to a night club, if I'm remembering what your friend said about you last night correctly." You let out a huff, knowing it's true and start to stand up to move back to your chair but he settles one hand over your waist and squeezes lightly, letting you know he doesn't want you to move just yet.

"I'd also say we have similar taste in music judging by your playlist," he grins, "and your brother is a fan so I'm wondering if you've watched me play?"

"Maybe I have, maybe I haven't," you quip, not giving in to his not so subtle attempts at flirting.

"We also now share our best friend Ella," he chuckles, "and she loves me, she even followed me back on Instagram, unlike some people."

"So is that what this is about? Is your pride a little hurt that I didn't already follow you, or at least follow you back?" you laugh quietly, "Ella is a hopeless romantic, of course she followed you wanting to play cupid."

"Are you not a hopeless romantic?" he says, turning you around to face him. "No, I'm far too jaded for that. I told you last night, I didn't think I was what you were looking for in that bar, and I still believe that to be true, if you're looking for a hook up, I'm probably not your girl, and god knows if you want more than that, I'm definitely not it."

"What if I said, I wasn't looking for anything? But that maybe I found something I wasn't expecting, even if that's just a friendship," he says, pulling his sunglasses off so that you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

"Then I might believe you."

"Look, I noticed you before I realized what you were wearing last night, that jersey just happened to give me a reason to talk to you. I'm not asking you for anything, y/n, just give me a chance, please."

"I guess I can do that," you offer him a small smile, seeing his expression light up.

"Really?" he asks, as you nod in response. "Wanna ride?" he says with a smirk, noticing your expression change slightly. "On the boat, y/n, get your mind out of the gutter," he chuckles as you shake your head at him, clearly lost for a response. "There are several ways I'd like to render you speechless, but for now, I'm just asking if you'd like to go out on the boat with me."

@chelseagirl98 @neverinadream @masonspulisic @pulisicsgirl @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @nyctophilic0vitnir @lunamelona

[smoshidiot]

hey guys: i ranked every smosh video

yes, every. single. smosh video. (every main channel sketch from 2005-2017 + 2023)

here it is under the cut if for some damn reason you're curious

♡ ABSOLUTE FAVES ♡ Paranormal Easy Bake Oven Sleepwalking Disaster Mortal Kombat Theme Food Battle 2006 Food Battle 2023 The Legend of Zelda Rap Axe Murderer Battleship Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Theme Boxman's Girlfriend Pokemon Theme Ian's Birthday Anthony Gets a Haircut Pokemon Theme REVENGE That Damn Neighbor Assassins Creed 3 Song My Dead Friend Boxman 2.0 Boxman Smosh Short 1: Dolls Unitarded A Very Hairy Situation w/Billy Mays Anthony is Mexican Left Handed Magic Keyboard Food Battle 2007 That Damn Yard Sale Four Years Foreplay Pokemon In Real Life Stuck in a Toilet My Mom's AMAZING Video Sex Ed Rocks Going to the Mountains Stop Copying Me! Cursed Magic 8 Ball We Rule High School Dixon Cider Smosh the Movie Real Death Note Firetruck I Broke My Foot 1 Hour Special Ghostmates Food Battle 2008 The Ultimate Shoedown WTF! I'm Old! Food Battle 2010 Dolls: 10 Years Later The Real Party Song Kiss Currency PRETTY DAMN GOOD

Smash Rap Molester Moon Hand Bomb Sleeping Pill Disaster My Grandpa's Dirty Secret Food Battle 2011 Quest for the Scooter Smosh Found Dead Garrett's Blog How Not to Act on a First Date Longest Staring Contest Ever Extreme Sleepover Hardcore Max Real Voodoo Doll He's Driving Me Crazy First Person Shooters Suck Drink Your Own Piss Parents SuckWe're Stuck Together We Finally Released Our Banned Video Boxman for President Cat Soup I Caught Every Pokemon Ian is Dangerous Ian's First Girlfriend Ian Gets Lucky Manspider Happy Cow Food Battle 2012 Pizza Zombies Food Battle 2013 Evil Fortune Cookie Hardcore Max 2 Food Battle 2014 License Test Toy Airplane Food Battle X Finger Guns Google Glass SUCKS My Mutant Rash The NEW Smosh TV Show That Damn Shower EDITOR! Camp in a Van Sexual Sun Every Smosh Video Ever Addicted to Selfies Hide and Seek My Best Friend is a Robot How Google's Space Ship Failed Business Boy Emoji Curse Human Pokemon Battle Rejected Zelda Games We're Stuck in Fan Fiction

I LIKED THIS ONE

A Hairy Situation w/ Billy Mays Anthony's Death That Damn Prison Break Anthony's Resurrection Evil AI Tried to Kill Me We Summoned a Demon Help I Became an NPC Stranded Transformers Theme How Not to Make a First Impression The Best Car EVER Reunited? The HauntingMale Model Replacement Needed Easy Step April First Evil Chain Letter Power Rangers Theme Life as Ghosts Ep 1-4 Crybaby I'm Not Racist Pokemon In Real Life 2 The BEST Bottled Water Meeting My Identical Twin I Killed the Tooth Fairy Guys' Guide to Hugging Guys My Real Pet Pikachu Homeless Millionaire The Ditto - Movie Trailer Meat In Your Mouth I Love Lou Ferigno Anthony Poses for Playgirl?! Vader and Me Killer Teddy Bear That Damn Punishment Arm Wrestling TO THE DEATH If Superheroes Were Real Worst Twist Endings Ever I'm Naked Pokemon In Real Life 3 How to Cover Up a Murder The World's First Internet Tutorial Motion Games Suck I'm Possessed By a Demon Addicted to Honey Boo Boo Child My New Best Friend is a Robot My Weird Addiction Food Battle 2013 Assassins Creed 4 Song So Many Hickies Guns Suck My Morning Routine Guy's Guide to Being Manly Jurassic Pokemon Magic iPad 21 Things I'd Rather Do Than Smoke Netflix Rap Video Game Items In Real Life My Hot Online Girlfriend Murder Party

[glittergroovy]

Post Directory: Lana Del Rey Unreleased / other

1949 / Afraid / All Smiles / Angels Forever / Architecture / Axl Rose Husband /

Baby Blue Love / Back To The Basics / Backfire / Bad Boy / BBM Baby / Be My Daddy / Beautiful Player / Because Of You / Behind Closed Doors / Ben / Bentley / Big Bad Wolf / Big Eyes / Big Spender / Blizzard / Boarding School / Bollywood Hawaii / Break My Fall / Breaking My Heart / Buddy’s Rendezvous / Butterflies / Butterflies (Part 2) /

C U L8R Alligator / Catch & Release / Caught You Boy / Children Of The Bad Revolution /Come When You Call Me America / Criminals Run The World / Crooked Cop /

Damn You / Dance For Money / Dangerous Girl / Daytona Meth / Delicious / Disco / Dragonslayer / Dreamgirl / Drive / Driving In Cars With Boys / Dum Dum / Dynamite /

Earthquakes / Elvis (Demo) / End Of The World / Every Man Gets His Wish /

Fake Diamond / Find My Own Way / Fine China / For You / Fordham Road / Freak Like Me / French Restaurant /

Gangsta Boy / Get Drunk / Ghetto Baby / Girl That Got Away / Go Go Dancer / Golden Grill / Goodbye Kiss / Greenwich /

Hangin’ Around / Hawaiian Tropic / Heavy Hitter / Hey Blue Baby / Hey You / Hit And Run / Hollywood / Hollywood’s Dead / Hot Hot Hot / Hundred Dollar Bill /

I Can Fly / I Don’t Wanna Go / I Must Be Stupid For Being So Happy / I Still Love Him / I Talk To Jesus / I Want It All / I Was In A Bad Way / If I Die Young / In The Sun / In Wendy / Is It Wrong? /

Jealous Girl / Jesus Is My Boyfriend / JFK / Jimmy Gnecco /

Kinda Outta Luck /

Lake Placid / Last Girl On Earth / Let My Hair Down / Life Is Beautiful / Lift Your Eyes / Live Or Die / Looking For America /

Maha Maha / Making Out / Match Made In Heaven / Meet Me In The Pale Moonlight / Melancholia / Methamphetamines / Midnite Dancer Girlfriend / Moi Je Joue / Money Hunny / More Mountains / Motel 6 / My Best Days / My Song 57 /

Never Let Me Go / Noir / On Our Way /

Ooh Baby /

Paradise / Paris / Party Girl (St. Tropez) / Pin-Up Galore / Pink Champagne / Playground / Playing Dangerous / Prom Song (Gone Wrong) / Puppy Love / Push Me Down / Put The Radio On / Put Your Lips Together /

Queen Of Disaster /

Resistance / Roses / Run Motorcycle /

Scarface / Serene Queen / Serial Killer / She’s Not Me / So Good (Summer Bummer Demo) / So Legit / Some Things Last A Long Time / Starry Eyed / Stoplight De-Lite / Strange Love / Summer Of Sam / Super Movie /

Teenage Wasteland / Television Heaven / The Happiest Girl In The Whole USA / The Man I Love / There’s Nothing To Be Sorry About / Tired Of Singing The Blues / Trash (Miss America) / Trash Magic / True Love On The Side / TV In Black And White /

Unidentified Flying Bill / Us Against The World /

Velvet Crowbar /

Wait / Watercolor Eyes / Wayamaya / Westbound / What’s A Girl To Do / Wild One /

Yes To Heaven / You & Me / You Can Be The Boss / You Must Love Me / You’re Gonna Love Me / You, Mister / Young And Beautiful / Your Band Is All The Rage / Your Girl

SEE HERE for directory of her released music

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 09 of ? | masterpost

word count: 3028 | ao3 link

That was way easier and better than I ever thought it could be. And sweet. Sweet and just so natural, like his kisses and his touch. Like the love I felt for him. Like the love he felt for me.

✦ summary: Dave and Nore find solace in each other and cave to their desires in the chaotic aftermath of a drunk driving accident.

✦ on this chapter: NSFW!!, dave mustaine x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, drinking, drunk driving, car accident, vomiting, a little bit of hurt/comfort/praise, fluff, unprotected sex, mxf sex (explicit), oral sex, fingering, alcoholism/drinking issues

✦ a/n: this is a completely new part aaaand it's really explicit so keep it in mind if you're going to read it! also, since every chapter is named after a song, i made a playlist on spotify with all of them, you can listen to it while reading or just to get in the story's mood, it's right here and i will update it every time i post a new chapter. hope you like it, feedback is welcome ❤

✧ the sin I bring, called ecstasy ✧

Alright, whose brilliant idea was it to let a drunk driver take the wheel? 

Definitely not mine. 

Honestly, at that moment, it didn't seem like we had much of a choice. We were all wasted by the end of the day. We needed to get back home, and none of us had enough cash for a taxi ride from Joe's place to ours. A stumbling Lars volunteered to be the designated driver, and surprisingly, no one objected. We even cracked some jokes about the potential disaster, had a few laughs, and that was the end of it.

I don't think anyone was laughing now, though.

We stared in pure horror at the wrecked van. Lars had managed to crash it into a damn wall! Thankfully, nobody got hurt, and we were just a stone's throw away from home, but that didn't make things any better. Dave and Lars were fighting, Leanne was losing her shit, and I wasn't faring much better. My head was spinning, my breathing getting faster, and a rush of adrenaline sent panic coursing through my veins. Everything was spinning. I knew I had drunk too much. I knew I was bound to puke sooner or later. But at least I hoped I could hold it together until we got home.

I crawled over to someone's lawn and pretty much emptied my guts.

"You okay?" a voice chimed in. I glanced up and met James' blue eyes. He seemed somewhat sober, probably because he had passed out for most of the later part of the party, but I knew he was still pretty drunk.

"Do I look okay to you?" I grumbled, and he cracked up. I scrunched my eyebrows. Barfing my guts out was bad enough without an audience, but having someone witness the spectacle made it a whole lot worse.

"Maybe it's best if you go home if you're feelin' like shit. But you don't know the way, huh?"

"Does anyone here feel good? We’re all wasted and screwed with this accident. I'm surprised no one in this neighborhood has called the police yet."

"Yeah, maybe they will. Then we'll be even more fucked, right?" He laughed again and plopped his ass down on the sidewalk, keeping a safe distance from my vomit puddle. I had noticed it earlier, but he got really annoying when he was drunk. I focused on my trembling hands, trying to regain my composure. Take a deep breath, I reminded myself.

"What's going on?" Dave's slurred voice chimed in as he stumbled over to us. "Nore, what the hell happened?" 

I looked into his brown eyes, and they seemed to suspiciously fixate on James, as if he could somehow be to blame for my sorry state. I wondered what he thought was happening.

 "I was..." I gestured towards the puke pool, then spun around to continue unleashing the remnants of my stomach. Oh, lovely. 

He approached, all his focus on me, pushing my hair out of my face and gripping my waist to keep me steady. I leaned into his frame, grateful for the support, my heart still racing from the crash's adrenaline rush. My stomach wasn't faring any better; now that I'd expelled everything, an uncomfortable burning sensation was spreading through my belly.

"I think I've had too much to drink," I grumbled, fully aware of how my voice slurred and dragged. "How the hell are we supposed to go home now?" 

He glanced at the wrecked van and let out a resigned sigh. 

"Cliff's trying to borrow a phone from someone nearby to call a taxi. C'mere." Dave slung his arm around my shoulders and guided me towards the sidewalk next to the van, where Lars and Leanne were already planted on the ground. He helped me settle down beside them. He seemed a bit more composed now, but who knew if he was actually sober or just trying to hide his own level of intoxication. 

I plopped my ass on the pavement, my head spinning and my stomach doing somersaults. Somehow, I managed to hold back the urge to hurl this time. He sat down beside me, shooting me a concerned look.

"You look like hell," he remarked, and I burst out laughing, instantly regretting it as a pounding headache hit me. I groaned, wincing, and covered my face with my hands. "Come here." He pulled me close, letting me rest my head on his shoulder.

"I called a taxi for the girls and got hold of Joe. He's coming to help with the van," Cliff chimed in. "But we need some folks to stick around here and wait." 

"You, me, and Lars can hang tight," James suggested. "Nore and Leanne are not feeling well. Dave can take 'em home." 

Cliff glanced at me, clearly realizing how sick I was. He squatted down next to me and ran his hand through my hair in a soothing gesture. 

"Bit too much to drink, huh?" he asked, and I grumbled in response. "It's okay, go home and get some rest." 

I nodded, hiding my face against Dave's chest. Cliff settled down beside Leanne, doing his best to soothe her as we waited what felt like forever for the cab. Finally, it arrived, and Dave, Leanne, and I hopped into the car. The driver dropped off Leanne at her place, and Dave hopped out to make sure she'd be alright while I stayed put. When he returned, he took the seat next to me in the back.

"Feeling any better?" he asked, and I nodded, leaning my head on his shoulder. He gently stroked my thigh, sending a pleasant shiver through my skin.

When we got back home, I hopped out of the car and headed straight to the bathroom while Dave took care of paying the taxi. I quickly brushed my teeth to get rid of the nasty taste in my mouth and splashed some water on my face. The vomiting had sobered me up, but my head was still pounding like crazy. Dave walked into the bathroom, holding a glass of water and a pill in his hand.

"Got this for you," he said, offering the pill. "You know, to help with the headache."

"Oh, thank you, Dave," I whispered, grateful for his thoughtfulness. I took the pill and swallowed it with the water, letting out a sigh. I couldn't help but notice how my hands were shaking slightly.

"You alright?" he asked, coming closer and gently stroking my face, unsure of how to comfort me. "You've been on edge since the accident. I mean, yeah, it was a total mess, but we're all safe now... Back home, no harm done."

I sighed. The accident had triggered more than just nerves and panic in me. The aftermath was just a tiny part of a much bigger turmoil in my head.

"It's just... This wasn't my first car accident. I guess that’s why I got so nervous," I confessed, and then looked into his eyes. He stared at me intently, his hand moving from my face to my lower lip, his finger tracing the curve of my mouth slowly. My body heated up, suddenly aware of the closeness between us. I let out a sigh, deciding to open up and share what had been troubling me. "Last year, on my 18th birthday, me and my friends went out to celebrate. We got wasted, and when it was time to call it a night, I was the one behind the wheel... Ended up crashing the damn car." I blinked, realizing my eyes were getting watery. It was strange. I had never talked so openly about this with anyone; I felt so ashamed, especially after getting kicked out of my own house. I just hoped Dave wouldn't hate me after hearing all this. "I got hurt. And I hurt my friends too. Dave, I... I'm not the good girl you think I am. I've fucked up big time." 

"And does that matter?" he whispered, his face inching closer to mine. His eyes were serious, and I could feel his breath brushing against my lips. "You’re not a bad person because of that, Nore. And I love you... Your past doesn't mean shit. I love who you are right now."

I locked eyes with him, a shiver running through me as he leaned his hands on the sink, one on each side of my body. He was so close that it made my heart race. And there it was — the electric charge that sparked every time he got too close, the tension building up deep in my gut whenever he touched me. I lightly brushed my fingers against his lips, my breath hitching with anticipation, and let out a soft sigh as he kissed me. Our tongues danced slowly together, his hands gripping me so tight against his body that it was almost painful. 

He broke the kiss to swiftly yank off my shirt, and a little gasp escaped my lips as he started kissing my neck, sucking gently and leaving love bites all over my skin. I felt his fingertips trailing lightly over my back, sending tingles down my spine, until they reached the clasp of my bra.

I flinched suddenly, feeling my face burn and my breath quicken. He froze.

"You want me to stop?" Dave asked, his voice low and husky, a concerned look on his face.

"No," I whispered, looking into his eyes. He stared at me, seeming a bit unsure for a moment, before gently stroking my face.

"Come here," he took my hand and led me to my room. My heart raced as he closed the door, leaving the lights off, and pulled his shirt off, kissing me again. His skin felt hot against mine and my breath hitched as he sat on the bed, pulling me onto his lap. I straddled him, my knees on either side of his hips, and let out a sigh as his lips went back to exploring my neck.

His hands went back to my bra as he removed it slowly. I shivered as I felt the cold air against my skin and even more when I saw the way he looked at me. He lifted his eyes to look at mine, his gaze clouded with anticipation while holding me firmly in his arms. I giggled when he lifted me effortlessly, laying me down on the bed and positioning himself on top of me. He traced the outline of my nipple slowly with his fingertips, making me breathe deeply.

“Dave…” I whispered, and let out a quiet whimper when he sucked on my nipple, his tongue circling it slowly. I moaned, feeling my whole body on fire while he sucked on my breast leisurely, his hand grabbing my hip strongly. He grumbled, a low and satisfied sound, and the vibration of his voice against my skin sent shivers throughout my body.

His hands gripped me tightly on the hips, so strong that I squirmed, a low moan escaping from my throat. He bit my nipple lightly, massaging it with his tongue, and I couldn’t help but moan louder. It hurt a bit, but it was so good that I never wanted him to stop. He did it again on my other nipple, his tongue savoring every inch of my skin while I buried my fingers in his soft hair. His lips explored my skin slowly, kissing and licking and sucking on my breasts, my collarbones, my neck; I knew my skin would be covered in purple marks the next day, but I couldn’t care less. 

When he pulled away, he held my chin in his hand, making me look at him. His eyes were intense and hungry, and they seemed as lost in gazing into mine as mine were in his.

"If I hurt you, you have to tell me," he spoke softly, his hand caressing my cheek slowly.

"Okay," I whispered in response.

"Promise me," he asked, lightly kissing my lips. I nodded.

"I promise, Dave."

He nodded, his eyes serious as he unbuttoned my pants. I helped him take the rest of my clothes off quickly, letting out a small sigh when he saw me naked for the first time. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face, looking somewhat stunned as his eyes roamed over every inch of my skin. I slowly caressed his chest with my hand, tracing the outline of his collarbone with the tips of my fingers. He brought a hand to my hair, gripping it firmly before leaning over me and kissing me on my lips again.

I whimpered when he grabbed my thigh with one hand, opening my legs and then touching my pussy, caressing it slowly, making my whole body shiver. I lost myself in his gaze, admiring his faintly flushed cheeks, his lips slightly parted while his eyes looked into mine. I moaned softly when he penetrated me with one finger, and then another, moving them slowly inside of me, exploring me at such a cautious pace that it bordered on tortuous. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked in a husky tone. I shook my head to assure him it didn’t, my lips slightly parted and my face flushed, and moaned when he moved his fingers inside me. He let out a soft laugh. “Fuck, Nore… You’re so beautiful.”

He leaned in, kissing my neck, his lips gently tracing the contour down to my shoulder and collarbone, leaving a trail of small kisses as he went down and kept moving his fingers leisurely inside me, in and out while he curled them softly. I closed my eyes, tilting my head back when he pressed his tongue against my clit, his hot breath tickling my skin. 

“Oh, Dave…” I moaned, holding onto his hair with one hand. He chuckled softly, seeming to take delight in my reaction, his breath quickening against my skin. I felt my own breath quicken while I enjoyed the combined pleasure of his fingers and his tongue, my legs shaking lightly as my back arched and I moaned. 

He reduced me to a trembling mess of moans and whimpers as his tongue explored my pussy slowly, sucking and licking my clit while his fingers moved inside me, my whole body on fire as I felt the knot of pleasure in my womb grow tighter and tighter. I let out a muffled cry when he stopped, his mouth coming back to mine, his fingers slipping out from inside me and leaving an uncomfortable emptiness that pulsed, yearning for more. I groaned in protest, almost begging for him to touch me again.

“Wait… Just a bit” he whispered while taking off his pants quickly. He gripped one of my thighs, lifting my leg while laying down on top of me. I melted into a breathy moan when I felt him start to penetrate me slowly, and flinched a little as pain and pleasure intertwined inside of me. “Nore…” he moaned, nuzzling my neck, his erratic breath against my skin as I wrapped my legs around his hips with a low moan while my body adjusted to his size “Ah…” 

I moaned when he started moving carefully. Any pain I felt was slowly giving way to the pleasure of feeling his sweaty skin against mine, his lips kissing me greedily, his fingers intertwined with mine as they pressed my hand against the mattress, and him, inside of me, making me feel things I didn't even believe were possible to be felt until then.  

He pulled away a bit, still moving slowly, and my eyes met with his. I knew by his expression that he wanted to devour me. That he was holding back, because he didn’t want to hurt me. But I wanted more of him, too; I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, allowing him to penetrate me deeper. He moaned softly, his control over himself faltering while his hand gripped my hip and he pushed hard inside of me. It was so good, feeling his warm body against mine, his fingers digging into my skin as we lost ourselves in each other.

He started moving faster, his breath becoming more erratic as he let a few muffled moans escape from his lips. I let him hold me against his body, the pain now completely forgotten as the pleasure of having him inside of me invaded my body, the knot of pleasure growing in my womb until it became almost unbearable.

“Nore, I’m so close…” he whispered, his voice almost pleading as he buried his face in the curve of my neck, one of his hands gripping my hair tightly while the other supported his body.

I couldn’t answer, I couldn’t even think straight while I closed my eyes, allowing his lips to explore my skin, the constant rhythm of his movements increasingly intensifying the knot of pure ecstasy growing inside me until I moaned loudly, feeling the pleasure inside of me become unbearable under his touch, allowing my orgasm to run through my whole body, making it spasm and contract. He grunted, shuddering and holding me even closer when he couldn’t stand it anymore and reached his high, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he came inside of me. He sighed deeply, his face hidden in my neck while he caught his breath, my own breath shallow, my eyes closed as I felt the warmth spreading through my body in waves.

That was way easier and better than I ever thought it could be. And sweet. Sweet and just so natural, like his kisses and his touch. Like the love I felt for him. Like the love he felt for me.

Dave let out a sigh, rolling off my body and snuggling up next to me. He pulled me close, and I hugged him tight, burying my face in his chest, soaking in the smell of his skin and his cozy warmth as I relaxed. His lips on my forehead and his hands caressing my back were the last things I remembered before falling asleep in his arms.

[feyresdaughter]

A Court of Wings and Ruin, chapter 19:

Training woop woop

I strode to where Cassian stood, rotating my shoulders. “Two Illyrian males making me sweat in one morning. What’s a female to do?” Cassian barked a laugh. “At least you showed up with some spirit.”

It's going to be three Illyrians, fey

I obeyed, even as I eyed him carefully. “You’re … angry.” And only when we’d begun sparring, his hands wrapped against my onslaught of punching, did he say, “You and Rhys hid the truth from us. And we went into Hybern blind about it.” - “About what?” - “That you’re High Lady.” I jabbed at his raised hands in a one-two combination, breathing hard. “What difference would it have made?” - “It would have changed everything. None of it would have gone down like that.”

Awww, I love this training session when they talk.

“Perhaps that’s why Rhys decided to keep it a secret.” - “Hybern was a disaster.” I halted my punching. “You knew I was his mate when we went. I don’t see how being High Lady alters anything.” - “It does.” I put my hands on my hips, ignoring his motion to continue. “Why?”

Are you ready? Are you ready for Feyssian? I am

Cassian dragged a hand through his hair. “Because … because as his mate , you were still … his to protect. Oh, don’t get that look. He’s yours to protect, too. I would have laid my life down for you as his mate— and as your friend. But you were still … his.” - “And as High Lady?” Cassian loosed a rough breath. “As High Lady, you are mine. And Azriel’s , and Mor’s and Amren’s . You belong to all of us, and we belong to you. We would not have … put you in so much danger.”

YOU BELONG TO ALL OF US AND WE BELONG TO YOU 😭 best found family

Cassian said, “You didn’t think you were essential. You saved our asses, yes, but … you didn’t think you were essential here.” One-two, one-two, one-two. “I’m not.” He opened his mouth, but I charged ahead, speaking around my gasps for breath. “You all have a … duty— you’re all vital . Yes, I have my own abilities, but … You and Azriel were hurt, my sisters were … you know what happened to them . I did what I could to get us out. I’d rather it was me than any of you. I couldn’t have lived with the alternative.”

She didn't think she was essential 🥺

“We were all terrified for you.” - “I managed just fine.” - “Of course you did. We knew you would. But …” Cassian crossed his arms. “Rhys pulled the same shit fifty years ago. When he went to that damned party Amarantha threw.” Oh. Oh. “I’ll never forget it, you know,” he said, blowing out a breath. “The moment when he spoke to us all , mind to mind. When I realized what was happening, and that … he’d saved us. Trapped us here and tied our hands, but …” He scratched at his temple. “It went quiet— in my head. In a way it hadn’t been before. [...] So when I woke up two weeks later … that’s when I heard. And when Mor told me what happened to you … It went quiet again.” I swallowed against the constriction of my throat. “You found me when I needed you most, Cassian.”

It went quiet again and he found her when she needed him most 🥺🥺

“You can rely on us, you know. Both of you. He’s inclined to do everything himself— to give everything of himself. He can’t stand to let anyone else offer up anything.” That smile faded. “Neither can you.”

Truly mates

[bisquicklite]

whispering in their ear, lips touching their skin!

Thank you for the ask, and I'm sorry it took a few days to get out!

“Is this right? I feel like he might be a bit… Lumpy?” Osha asked as she took a step back from her creation, head tilting as she appraised it again.

As much as she was growing used to navigating the snow and ice of Coerthas, she was still not used to playing with it. Her gloves protected her from the worst of the cold. Moving about to roll the snowball into greater and greater sizes kept her warm enough to keep from being too uncomfortable.

“Hmm.” Beside her Haurchefant hummed, looking over the packed ball of snow, topped with a significantly lumpier round of snow where some parts were packed tighter than others. He brightened after a moment, “I think our new friend is beautifully formed, my darling.” When at his side Osha gave a snort of laughter he continued, “For a first attempt, he is truly not that bad. He is a damn sight better than my own first attempt as a child; I swear my first snowman was little more than a misshapen mound of rapidly melting snow.”

“Well, I suppose we don’t have to worry about him melting anytime soon.” What with the area being frozen in a winter that settled in the last Calamity, and had yet to end.

It started with an offhand comment on how her mother never let Osha or her sisters play in the snow. That it was not worth the possible frostbite and sickness, even though they were a family rich with healers. So, no, she had to tell her lover, she had never made a snowman. At this news, Lord Haurchefant had all but leaped from his seat, paperwork abandoned, and escorted her outside. When she tried to protest he affected a most serious face and insisted that, "Such a tragedy would not stand!" and that he would, "See it corrected with haste, this very moment."

It was a silly idea, Osha was willing to admit. But she made no attempt to resist when he took her by the hand, leading her out to a spot where the fresh snow lay undisturbed. She was not one to ignore such blessings the Lover was want to give- in the shape of a lovely afternoon with her sweetheart laughing and playing in the snow.

The linkpearl in her ear suddenly chirping with an incoming call made her briefly groan, flashing Haurchefant a sheepish smile of apology. He returned his own smiles, and a small shrug that bespoke such understanding of the matter. It wasn’t the first time their time together was interrupted, and was likely not going to be the last. But that didn’t stop her brief fantasy of being able to ignore such calls.

“Yes?” Osha answered as pleasantly as she could manage, already mentally preparing herself for whatever manner of disaster she would be called to deal with. Perhaps the beastfolk were readying to summon their primals again. Or there was evidence that the Garleans were making a problem of themselves again. But most likely, someone, somewhere, needed her to play courier to one or more packages of dubious importance.

On the other end of the line Alphinaud was already skipping pleasantries to launch into a speech that allowed no obvious space for her to reply. As he spoke Osha nodded and hummed in acknowledgement, waiting for the specific threat to be outlined, the need detailed. The casual din of conversation in the background did give her pause as the current great need for her presence boiled down to ‘Alphinaud was at a party and needed her to stand next to him and be unspecifically impressive. In the warrior’s armor, with that big axe she was so fond of, if she would be so kind to play dress up.’’

At this Osha just about stopped listening as she drew in a deep breath only to sigh. She interrupted what sounded like a direct order for her to “Alphy. Do you remember what we talked about last week? I’m not a show pony you can trot out whenever you need someone impressive at your meetings with important people.”

It was a conversation she had to have with the young master just days before. That she was more than happy to come to the aid of those in need. She was happy to fight the battles that needed fighting to keep the realm safe. But she was not going to sit in hours-long meetings or parties with politicians which necessitated her to sit quietly and pretend not to be bored out of her skull if she could help it. Which was now something Alphinaud was trying to force her to reconsider due to blah blah blah, big fancy words she wasn’t entirely familiar with, blah blah blah.

“Aww, well, I suppose they’ll just have to settle for Alphinaud Leveilleur, youngest graduating student of the Studium and Louisoix’s own grandson because I am busy today. Next time you’ve got to give me more than half a bell’s warning if you want me to be your chaperone.” Osha did her best to make that the firm end of the conversation. And it was, until the young man on the other line questioned what exactly she was getting up to that day that she stumbled. “Well, I’m, um.-”

Osha wasn’t exactly prepared to admit to the exact nature of the fun she had been having. That she had come to Camp Dragonhead with a flimsy enough excuse of delivering missives from the Scions into the hands of her lover. Or that she had been lured out into the snow to make snowmen.

At her side Haurchefant made a small gesture to catch her attention, taking her arm gently and leaning in close. Alphinaud was still babbling his protest in one ear while he leaned close to the other, cupping a hand gently around the furred ear and whispering helpful suggestions. It took all of Osha’s discipline to keep the ear from twitching against the warm breath and warmer lips that pressed a too brief kiss to the sensitive appendage.

He pulled away too soon, and flashed her a cheeky grin and a thumbs up in a silent encouragement that bespoke confidence in his suggestion. As if he hadn't just casually melted her spine and weakened her knees, and it took a great deal of discipline to keep herself from swooning.The wink he gave afterwards told her that he knew exactly what he was doing, the cheeky devil.

Osha couldn’t quite help her toothy smile as she firmly spoke to Alphinaud again, while her cheeks flushed warm,  "I am busy improving diplomatic relations with Ishgard.- Yes.- Yes. - I am. - I will be sure to pass on your regards. Okay. Mmhmm. "

The call ended as Alphinaud all but insisted she stay where she was, and to continue the good work. Afterall, the young Scion mentioned, those Ishgardian men seemed partial to her company. Perhaps she could do good work luring them back into the Alliance. When she returned her gaze to Haurchefant they broke the brief silence with a shared giddiness, laughing and swaying into one another.

“Alphy says hello, and I,” Osha made a broad gesture of relief before she was drawn back into her lover’s arms, “am officially, once again, free for the evening.”

“How splendid, my dear! And what shall you do now, with your reclaimed freedom?”

“Hmm, that is a good question.” Osha gave a brief, mocking impression of pondering the question, before going on with a false sobriety, “I suppose I should be true to my word and try to be diplomatic with you and your countrymen.”

Haurchefant brightened at this, clearly catching on the playful mood, “In that case, I don’t suppose I might tempt you to an evening with my own humble company? If nothing else I can personally assure your comfort and warmth through the dreadfully cold night.”

“That sounds lovely, and it gives me the perfect opportunity to seduce you.” She didn’t even need to pretend to be excited, as it was how she had intended to spend the evening in the first place.

“Truly? Here I was planning my own seduction of your lovely self.” Haurchefant gave the slightest look of surprise before grinning broadly while blushing straight to the tips of his ears.

“Well, if that’s not a fortuitous turn of events, I don’t know what is.” Osha pulled him down for a kiss before turning her attention back at the attempted snowman they had been working on together, “But before we get on with wooing each other.. I do feel a bit bad about leaving this fine gentleman without eyes or limbs.”

They again shared a few moments of laughter before agreeing to put the finishing touches on the poor snowman. Which turned into a rather serious undertaking of finding appropriate sticks for arms and stones with which to make limbs and a rough approximation of a face.

[stylezxsilvermoon]

the secret charm: dorothea's pendant: the prince & princess of disaster, burn to ashes together

❞and evan dando never planned on telling you the truth, and your leonardo I.D. card is your fountain of youth, you can be a teenager for your whole fucking life, just find some pretty sucker and make that bitch your wife❞

THE BEER - KIMYA DAWSON

SONG OF THE CHAPTER: I KNOW THE END - PHOEBE BRIDGERS

A/N: this isn't exactly a chapter, it's more, its a character-dependent sort of soliloquy, i might do more of these. It's part of the story, it gives the characters a chance to jump off the page and give them more depth. And you know me, i love lots of depth. Lots of love, Mila xx

WC: 1.1K 

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

DOROTHEA'S PENDANT: 

THE PRINCE & PRINCESS OF DISASTER, BURN TO ASHES TOGETHER

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

⁕

Dorothea

The night continues on like the twisted ever land paradise it's meant to me, and it's clear to many being a royal means being the wearer of many faces. As terrifying as that sounds, you learn to avoid the 'switch'. A made-up feeling of your wounds being healed over by the glitz and glamour. Getting quickly swept away by some suave heir that promises riches and gold in exchange for your womanhood, an all-exclusive ticket to your rarest fantasies and all your midnight kisses. And this notion, this notion makes me wish I had never left my mother's womb, preverbally speaking. Her Queendom, which is an extension of her motherly nature, caring overall and sweeping them into ultimate hazy hues of heartfelt feelings. Harmonious and honest, as all was meant to be. Alas, before growing to be a shapely woman I have outgrew my mother's love like one would a baby's old clothing. And it tears at the very soul, though of what I have left now that I have sold it to a man uncaring of where my feelings will lay. As long as my dress is discarded onto waves heady warmth. And the moments are spine tingling and bone chilling, all together to create a neutral nonexistence of everything I could have dreamed of.

And I hope he knows, the love I have for him is ever-cascading. And I hope he knows, I look at my face like one would peer at a gushing open would. The party parades around us like a carousel of chaos and never-ending casualties. Spilled drinks and drunken whispers are sure to cause a frenzy when most of us are of our wits tomorrow. But for now, while the veil of magic and mystery is over our eyes, everything seems better than it actually seems to be in reality. Under the influence of things that make us feel like we can fly.

But somehow, I feel even more weighed down than ever before. It's almost as if I'm attempting to swim my way through this storm of chaos. And all the more to come.

Despite being all too deep to stop this now. I ponder if this is truly what I wish, what I desire. If I could go back and see it all from the view I have now. But, am I the same woman he met all those years ago? I have grown out of many things since the before times of it all. And if I could scream this from the roof tops, I'd say; damn it all. May I be of the highest heights and fall from them and crack my skull open. Tis seems the fate of all that are born on the ledge of ludicracy. We were born to fall, in more ways than one.

And often I wonder, when I look in the mirror, who do I see? A powerful Queen, or a weapon of mass destruction. Will my mouth be used to spread the regime of power? Or, will it be as little of use for good as a barrel of a gun? Only to After all I have done, am I not ashamed of my damndest?

To know my fate was never completely my own, but it may have been, could have been if I had been born male? Even my mother, her womb like a canon for a bomb. Only destruction has come of it, come of me. I am so very mad like a hatter and undone by the words that swirl in my head. And they are all... simply because of a charmed gentleman. For all my allotted days, I am forever sweetened by. Like a beautiful passion fruit brought to rumination by the warmth of spring. He is my spring. But too much water...too much power turns me into mush. Overripens me, until I am not fit for consumption at all.

May my bitterness not condemn me to eternal servitude. But the curse to live this life, is enough, it is enough to make bile rise to my throat. Truly sickening, that what thrills me will lead me to a hollow grave. Unjust, uncouth, unrighteous. But, oh...do I love it, do I love him. The party carries on without a hitch, even as our legs begin to numb from the adrenaline and other additives coursing into our blood stream. I feel static in my heart, and it makes me laugh.

"Oh, what a grand day this is." I announce as I smile brightly. Like the diamonds that shine on every ladies fingers. All but mine, shining bright sapphire.

"Indeed." Harry announces, coming back from what almost looks like, war! His clothes soiled and his tie on his shoulder. Still, despite it all, Cheshire smirked-up to the nines and as mischievous as ever.

I help him pick up his face off the floor when we begin to blend into the background. Or, simply it feels that way to the crowd of onlookers. Even behind the mask are a disguise for who we truly are. And, who we truly fear. The rich may always look down upon the poor, for their shoes going un-shined and muddied. And there hearts forever pure with the most golden of intentions. Unlike the richest, with metal cages around their hearts and bars and a jailer around their minds. And it slips by like a thief in the night by the name of a crown, oh what a wicked thing.

But, in this 'so-called' magical world. We are the true degenerates. Teens sickly enough to be waifs much like the poor. But instead of our stomachs rumbling from lack of sustenance, we crave substance in our veins. To numb the pain of simply just being. W fake all hours of the day and some of the night. But we are what is to be feared, to be looked down upon, truly, at the end of it all. Four our crowns were forged of bloodied battle, and unholy deaths upon stakes of grand adventure. Speaking from experience, my soul feels martyred much like a woman burnt at the stake. And only the bare brittle bones remain. And even then, I am tethered, then I am tied.

May it be talked about in folk tales. But once upon a day, all is to fall. And the first piece to fall in the board of hierarchy will be the king. Our history of fates will truly be empty, because we spent our whole lives tearing the flesh from our bones, trying to show to others that we are human. Some type of humanity to be spared and given like scraps of beautifully woven fabric that falls upon the floor in a seamstress shop.

I am to be a Queen, but a warrior just the same, my head is full of nuts and bolts and gears spinning with steam boiling with fury, but also love. But my heart is a machine, it beats for him on command. But also, to many, I am like a dog, my leash is my ring, my heart & my crown. 

author's note: this isn't what i usually do, but i decided to do since i feel like (by now) at least you should know that Dorothea, Harry and Louis are the main characters. And even if this is Larry fic i still want to make it really super detailed. So yeah, but how did we like this little sorta break from everything to peer into the character's mind/eyes. And, should I do this again? I'm not sure if I will, but I hope you enjoyed it!

All the love, stylezxsilvermoon

link to the secret charm masterlist

link to the secret charm on wattpad

link to the secret charm on ao3

link to fanfiction masterlist (all fandoms)

[uefb]

Final chapter of The Riot Act link

Summary: In which the Scamanders write a lot of letters; Uncle Hesiod is effectively blackmailed by every single member of Newt’s family (including Newt himself); Theseus shows every shade of who he is and who he will become; and Newt and his father have a bit of a “glow-up”, as the kids say in the year of our lord 2023. (Click for relatable Newt & Theseus meme.)

Also, 11-year-old Newt dropping truths: “I know I annoy people, Uncle Hesiod, but I think all creatures must be met with a baseline level of compassion, and I wonder if I am sometimes not afforded that because I am different.”

Gifs by @whumpypepsigal

Excerpt (opening letters):

7AM

Floo Telegram (extra charge for weight)

Helios Scamander to Rowan Scamander

Dear Rowan,

Wanted to let you know that Newt’s day at the Ministry was rather awful. It sounds like he comported himself reasonably well, while Hesiod—on the other hand—behaved beastly. I expect we’ll be dealing with the damage for a week or so. No “fairies”, per se, but he’s gone a bit more quiet than usual, so I’m giving him the day with Theseus and his projects to see if that helps.

All that being said, Newt is—strictly speaking—physically all right, so there’s absolutely no need to worry on that front. (No doxy disasters or broken limbs, thank Merlin.) However, you and I will need to have a good long talk, I’m afraid. Make some decisions about the nature of our own relationship with Hesiod and my family generally, as well as revisit more realistic plans for Newt’s future. And then also, on quite a more basic level, we must contend with the now (while somehow not reinforcing the mess Hesiod has dumped into our laps—he planted some rather upsetting ideas in Mud’s fertile little head). Nevertheless, our son went on a bit of a solitary nighttime wander after, more or less, lying to me by omission… So that’s obviously behaviour that must be addressed. I’ve just absolutely no clue how to do it.

Anyway - I’ll be bringing him home tomorrow after work. (And yes — Theseus and I have both enchanted him to within an inch of his life. If he so much as sneezes before we’re back in Derbyshire, we’ll know it.) T has requested to come along. I shall tell you all the details in person, as I’ve got my hands surprisingly full on the one with an enraged 19-year-old who still thinks I can’t tell when he’s scheming; and, on the other, with an 11-year-old, who apparently requires magnificently compelling evidence just to convince him to eat his damn breakfast.

With love,

Helios

7:20AM

Floo Telegram

Rowan Scamander to Helios Scamander

Helios — So sorry to hear it went horribly but happy to know he mostly behaved(?). Unsurprised he fled the flat if upset, though still unacceptable. (How in the world did he get past you, though?) Must admit, am quite worried without details, esp. if T is concerned enough to leave training. Floo chat, please? Or at least summarise? Regarding breakfast: If you move whatever N is working on to left of his plate and then push plate twd him, he’ll typically eat w/out realising he’s doing it. (But thank him when he finishes, so he notices he’s done the routine—we don’t want him starving at Hogwarts…!) Please give both our boys my love.

8AM

Letter

Helios Scamander to Hesiod Scamander

Dearest brother,

I’ve been made aware that Newt’s visit to the Ministry yesterday did not go the way either of you had hoped. Certainly, I heard the tale from Theseus who had had to wrangle it from Newt in fits and starts, but the boy keeps incredibly detailed notes about creatures or interactions that fascinate, inspire, or confound him; and I’d assume he’s classed yours as confounding. I’ll be sending him to the grocer at some point, during which time I plan to unashamedly steal his journal and read all about it myself. So you may rest assured the truth shan’t be twisted by the party line. (That’s a Muggle invention, Hesiod. Quite novel. Not that you would know.)

So, here is the heart of it, brother:

I did not think I needed to make this clear as I’ve already done so in the past… But I do not need your assistance in rearing my son. I have appreciated your efforts to show interest and befriend him this past year, but I’m afraid I will be putting a stop to that, as well. You will not lay hand or wand on him. You will not reprimand him. You will not disclose information—to him or anyone else—that Rowan and I have kept to ourselves for a reason. You will bring any and all concerns directly to me instead of breaking the heart of a child. Furthermore, Newt will be doing any future career preparation with myself or with Rowan; and you are not to even speak to him without one of us present.

Finally… Newt has requested he be allowed to write you an apology for his behaviour—he is a far better man than me, because I didn’t intend to make him do that—as well as “tell [you] some thoughts”. As Newt’s not typically one for telling anyone thoughts of any sort if they’re not specifically about animals, I’m hardly going to discourage him... However, because we will be using this as an opportunity to practice letter-writing and grammatics, I expect it may take a few days, as his Mum and I are both busy through Saturday.

A word of warning: Theseus has just left the flat with a look on his face that usually means trouble, so I do hope you enjoy the visit.

Your loving brother,

Helios

P.S. - Please send any mail beginning tomorrow evening to the Derbyshire address.

8:20AM

Floo Telegram

Helios Scamander to Rowan Scamander

Rowan — Thanks for suggestion. Breakfast eaten. (Who knew earthworm digestive systems were so compelling.) Regarding floo: Can’t while N’s around. But he’s more chipper now, so I’ll try to have T take him out for chips at tea.

The summary is that N repeatedly spoke out of turn + H rather severely punished him. Please don’t discuss in detail w N until home. T + I are handling it delicately and T’s off to MOM right now so there may be nothing of H left for you to worry about, anyway

[novemberthecatadmirer]

Just Another Silm Rant

I think the reason I get so suddenly ADHD-obsessed-hyperfocused with Silmarillion world, aside from the lore is grand but also loose filled with delicious openings for reinterpretations and headcanons, aside from the concept being focused on kindness and being good despite all the disastrous tragedies Noldor style happened in the story is that it’s filled with people with problems. And each of them suffered from their problems in different way ARTISTICALLY. Which I find very realistic and compelling.

Like, there is Feanor. I haven’t thought enough about him. I feel he kind of made his problem everyone’s problem. Like, Not exactly, his problem was already part of everyone’s problems, with his father being murdered, the Trees thing, and the whole Silmarils matter. However he was getting too damned (understandably) attached to his finished art project. Like, when think about him, as a person in creative industry myself I want to scream at him “Each good artwork you do is part of you and you will not be able to remake them again and destroying them will absolutely breaks your heart but that’s the FUCKING POINT of being an artist, you just forget your past work, let them go, tape your fucking heart back together and keep creating new things because that’s how artist grow. What a disaster it is if we make something nice and that is it, that is the peak of our life as artist and we just cannot make anything better? Okay probably you got an artist block but you are IMMORTAL go get some inspirations move on with your life instead of go fighting with a bunch of fire monsters and fucking end your artist career.”

There is Maedhros. Nothing to say about him, I love him, good hair, TRAGIC FALLEN HERO that fell so hard, directly into a glory shiny lava pit. Got a load of awful stuff (including being turned into a fucking piece of art installation) happened to him, pulled himself together, kept going, tried really hard, survived, tried again and again. Then realized that all his struggling had cause suffers and deaths of other people including his own family, everything was in vain, and finally broke and had a dramatical suicide like THAT.  (Why are you even surprised boi you have been trying so damned hard in the wrong direction for the wrong reasons.)

There is Maglor. Went with the flow EACH AND EVERY TIME. Participated at all of the crime parties. Felt SORRY but kept doing it anyway. SERIOUSLY WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU. Somehow people still feel he’s the softy of the group. (Really that’s impressive.) (Maybe because his music is nice.) Good hair No.2. 

There is Finrod everyone’s favorite hot boi. Rap-battled Sauron of all people, failed because of logical inconsistency. His story keeps making me think about how easy it is to point at someone who is good and declare “okay they are not really good.” It is almost like, it’s very, VERY hard to be GOOD. And the Evil says, hey you cannot be actually fighting me if you are not PURE and GOOD, because you are already tainted by me thus everything you do is serving me. IMO that’s probably the most successful lie of the evil side. Just think about it, how many time in history and at present have we been divided by being misled to point at and attack each other for being “not really good and probably helping the bad guys,” while the big bad guys just sit there in their comfy sofa sipping our blood from beautiful gold goblets, watching us breaking apart ourselves with our broken faith in humanity?

There is Fingon. Not much to say. Possibly one of the most gruesome death. The most brave one had to be killed in most brutal way. Fuck Morgoth. Didn’t have a lot of problems himself, damned mostly because of association.

There is Turgon the Dumb. I like his story. Very, very interesting, complex character. I HATE HIM. Sorry I know his is probably hot but WTF. So traumatized by all his family just fucking dying here and there, ended up building this secluded beautiful city, a wonderful bubble of dream of the wonderous past, and sit in it mourning his loss while THE WORLD WAS FUCKING BURNING AROUND HIM. The “nope you are not allowed to leave my very secret city why do you even want to leave can’t you see how wonderful this city I built is” sucks as well. 

Push people down the fucking wall of your fucking city in rage, well, also not good. And apparently it was A SPECIAL LOCATION that is black and so contrary to the city’s pretty white color palette. I’m like what is this WHAT DOES THIS EVEN IMPLY? Is this the first time you do it? Better it be the first and last time you do it or I have SO FUCKING MANY questions. I am not surprised at all casting people down a fucking cliff would doom your beautiful city of pure light and joy so damned hard. 

Then Ulmo warned him and he just DID. NOT. LISTEN. It is very interesting, that in House of Finwe he of all people ended up being the one replicated Feanor’s problem. “Yeah this city I created is so good and I am not going to give it up and move on and rebuild a better one somewhere else so that my people can survive and live.” DO YOU KNOW IN ARCHITECTURE SCHOOL THEY HAVE TO DESTROY THEIR MODELS BUILT WITH MONEY AND HARD WORK THEMSELVES EACH AND EVERY SEMESTER? 

Also when Hurin came for him for help... He did that. Not good. Not WISE. Your friend who got captured and tortured by the dark enemy of the world for 20+ years just showed up at your door and you hesitated. Also he happened to know the damned location of your fucking city, yeah there was an oath, but don’t you wonder why suddenly he got released? If you choose to be a king instead of a friend at least take him in to investigate what the fuck actually happened? 

And in the end he just... Climbed onto the very tip of the highest tower, complained aloud and fell with his city. Narratively compelling. It just seems like He was trying to be a good king, but always at the worst time.

Turin. I think he needed so, SO MANY therapies. The thing is, aside from the problems with traumas and mental illness he just did not even try to fucking have some awareness/control of his own emotions. Instead he just chose to be dramatic and drown in his self-pity and rage (who the fuck call themselves “the Black Sword.”) Like, it didn’t even feel like he was trying.

Also there is the HUGE issue that Morgoth was very, VERY motivated to make his life a fucking piece of performance art demonstrating loss, suffering, and death.

Finduilas. Had no problems. Problems found her anyway. Got turned into a fucking art installation to escalate Turin’s problems.

Eol. Chilled in his very dark, very morbid forest. Got on well with dwarves, but when Noldor tried to trap him and his family indefinitely in their wonderful city reacted very badly. We don’t know much about him. The narrative was against him. And the narrative was probably racist. So we don’t know much about him.

Maeglin. Got so many problems shoved at him. Had so many problems. Everyone thought he was the problem. 

Probably would not be any problem if Turgon dealt with Turgon’s own problems. Like, the whole matter with his parents’ death was messy, understandable. But if Turgon listened to Ulmo and left early? If Turgon took Hurin in before he shouted out aloud in despair? If Turgon fucking reconsidered and listened to Ulmo, he actually got so many fucking years?

Also THE NARRATIVE WAS AGAINST HIM AND WAS RACIST. (WTF with the “some whispered he had Orc’s blood in his veins.”)

(Still not over my “I love everything about Gondolin so damned much but the city sucks and must burn and was a metaphor of the problem of Valinor and I think Tolkien discarded his draft for Dagor Dagorath because he realized that Morgoth would win that damned war if people just lock themselves in Valinor and wait in inaction for the great system reset with the rest of world burning right over there all the time.”) 

(Seriously, healing is a fucking PROCESS. If the Valar, the elves do not start to work with mortals to heal Arda NOW AT THE MOMENT and just passively waiting for some magical reset, there will never be an Arda Healed. The world will end first in fire then in ice.)

[cherry-interlude]

Lana’s Unreleased Songs in ‘Chronological’ Order

This is not based on Lana’s reality or intention, just the story she tells in her music. This does not include Ave Maria, Boom Like That, Roll With Me, Money Hunny or most of the EPs/demotapes

Younger Years

This is Lana’s teenage years, due to the mentions of school and her age. The story I gleaned from this was she was a wild girl at school, hanging around with the wrong crowd (Boarding School, Children of the Bad Revolution, Driving in Cars With Boys, Making Out, Motel 6, Butterflies Part 2). She always felt like an outcast and had dreams of being famous (Elvis (inspiration), Hollywood, Pin Up Galore, Playground, You’re Gonna Love Me, Jesus is My Boyfriend).

She meets a guy who is a little bit bad for her but she connects with despite the toxic nature of their relationship (Me and My Boyfriend, Run Motorcycle, I Don’t Wanna Go, I Learned How To Make Love From the Movies (another ‘black leather moonlight), Ridin’, Joshy and I, Stoplite De-Lite, Queen of Hearts).

However, they’re passionately into each other (Baby Blue Love, BBM Baby, Jealous Girl, Puppy Love) and she dreams of them running away together (On Our Way, Prom Song Gone Wrong, Super Movie, Take Me to Paris, 1949, Every Man Gets His Wish).

They go on to break-up after multiple ‘breaks’ (Butterflies Part 1), when Lana’s boyfriend decides he wants to hit the road himself (Your Band is All the Rage). Lana recognises they were too young and bad for each other, and just wanted to leave together (Afraid, Damn You).

Waitressing/Trailer Parks/Jim

Lana becomes a waitress and goes on to meet Jim (All Smiles, Caught You Boy, Meet Me in the Pale Moonlight, You Can Be the Boss), a rich, law-breaking unkind lover (Crooked Cop, Hundred Dollar Bill). Their relationship is passionate and loving (4th of July, Behind Closed Doors, Bellevue, Bentley, Betty Boop Boop, My Song 57, Coca Colla, Daddy Issues, Dynamite, Hawaiin Tropic, Heartshaped Chevrolet, I Was in a Bad Way, Let My Hair Down, Match Made in Heaven, Oooh Baby, Push Me Down, Put Your Lips Together, Queen of Disaster, Bikini Gold) but also difficult (Maha Maha, My Best Days, Put the Radio On, Resistance, Roses, Trees, Valley of the Dolls, Cult Leader (metaphor)).

Jim also had a darker influence on Lana and she admired his criminal ways (Hot Hot Hot, Never Let Me Go (Nancy and Sid)). They lived in a trailer park together (Backfire, Fordham Road, Television Heaven, Trash Magic) and slowly they fell more into crime.

They started a lifestyle of criminal activity (Criminals Run the World, Come When You Call Me America (”gun to gun”), Daytona Meth, Hit and Run, Live or Die, Playing Dangerous (arson), Scarface) and Lana developed a darker persona (Dangerous Girl, Hangin’ Around, Serene Queen, Summer of Sam). Jim soon goes to prison (Gangsta Boy, TV in Black and White). Lana eventually realises that Jim’s love for her is too flawed, and she metaphorically kills his influence on her (Kinda Outta Luck).

Getting Famous/Stripping

Lana becomes a stripper and seeks to get noticed. She spends her days at the diner and her nights at the club (Us Against the World, Dance For Money, Ghetto Baby (stilettos, loose link), Go Go Dancer, Midnite Dancer Girlfriend, Moie Je Joue, Party Girl).

Lana eventually starts to get noticed for this (C U L8r Alligator, Disco) as well as her singing (Marilyn). Though she does still miss the life she had with Jim (Methamphetamines), she meets interesting new people (Strangelove, Big Bad Wolf, Wolf T-Shirt) and people who can give her a chance in the business (Axl Rose Husband (”record executive), Ben) - including famous men she admires (Is It Wrong?), accidentally becoming known in a scandal (Other Woman, True Love On the Side).

Famous

Lana’s fame grows quickly, and she is known as the wild-child star (Be My Daddy, Breaking My Heart, Heavy Hitter, Dreamgirl, Dum Dum, Paradise, Serial Killer, So Legit, St Tropez). She starts up a PR relationship (Fake Diamond) but meets another singer like her, who slows down her crazy behaviour (Because of You). They are a perfect pair, both rich, talented and about the famous lifestyle (Beautiful Player, Delicious, Back to tha Basics). He lives too fast, too dangerously (Live Forever, Velvet Crowbar, Lift Your Eyes) but she sticks by him. They have a whirlwind engagement to be married.

She is heartbroken when she hears rumours about him (In The Sun, Catch and Release (”page three”, gossip)). She is devastated and angered by the revelations of his unfaithfulness (Hollywood’s Dead, Noir, She’s Not Me, Tired of Singing the Blues, Your Girl) but ultimately is strong (Break My Fall). Most of all, she’s heartbroken about the marriage that would never be (Fine China*).

Lana sees the downfall of fame steadily (Last Girl on Earth) and as she becomes introspective (On & On & On) misses her past (I Talk to Jesus, Greenwich, Wayamaya, You and Me).

She spends time alone, finding herself and her freedom (Angels Forever Forever Angels, Wild One) but soon meets someone new (Hey You). She falls in love (JFK) despite remembering the past with Jim and her other lovers (French Restaurant). She is mature and safe in her relationship, and allows it to unfold (Life is Beautiful, Spin Me Round, Starry Eyed, Unidentified Flying Bill, When I’m With You, Yes to Heaven).

*This song could have fit in to various places.

This was just for fun and was all theoretical; again, I’m not claiming any of this is Lana’s intention but just a fictional narrative based on the beautiful stories she tells

[ohanny]

pitching a bl

*clears throat* to whom it may concern

the year is 2023. we are ready for happy, spicy, non-angsty fun. our main character is a nerdy, human disaster of a virgin who, dared by his clearly shitty friends, must go into a sex shop to buy condoms. upon entering, his wide-eyed stare is immediately met by your friendly, tatted up sex shop cashier who is like "hello, how may i help you? would you be interested in sampling our new flavored lubes?" and it's going to be a sweet and sex positive romance about experimenting and exploring your sexuality with zero will-they-won't-they and no misunderstandings. just our main character growing into himself and finding love in a healthy, welcoming community where people communicate and support each other. story line highlights:

a kink discovery montage that ranges from "holy fuck i just learned something fundamental about myself" to "that was weird and i am not trying again to figure out if it was good weird or bad weird"

wielding a gigantic floppy silicon dildo as a weapon

hot tatted up cashier's hot tatted up lesbian bestie showing up to kidnap our not-much-of-a-virgin-anymore with gleeful "oh, baby's mine today. we're gonna figure out what he thinks about vaginas!"

an inclusive, body positive pool party

our boy getting dolled up by drag queens and being bullied to get on the stage except it doesn't feel the way his school mates made him feel when making him do outrageous stuff. he's not uncomfortable. he's laughing and shaking his ass and he's a disaster but he's never had so much fun.

our boy standing up to those old school mates, totally unbothered. not ashamed and not even angsty about their nastiness. just that slightly pitying "damn, i hope one day you grow up because must be miserable being so pressed" attitude.

post credits of just having happy, mushy mid morning couch sex. sun is shining. they have a cat. they're laughing about baby getting his first tattoo later. maybe there is even a throwback pun to the lube flavor from their first meeting. everything in beautiful and nothing hurts.

[madamspeaker]

Dear America,

Yes, this is one of those effing Europeans, butting in and telling you how to vote in your elections, but you see American elections have global consequences. I wish that wasn’t so, but we all lived through the hell that was the Trump years, and speaking as someone whose own government is a complete shitshow, trust me when I tell you, letting conservatives back into power is a recipe for disaster. Yeah, prices are high, things cost quite bit more these days than they did a couple of years ago, but it’s not just you. The UK has been living under twelve years of Tory rule and austerity and our inflation rate is higher than the US. Inflation isn’t down to the ideology of those in charge - it’s a worldwide issue brought about by the fallout of the pandemic and war - but the fact that the UK inflation rate is higher than that of America is down to the decisions of those in charge. You might not think it but Democrats have been doing a pretty damn great job of keeping things ticking on your side of the pond. Many a pundit likes to suggest that the ARP that Dems passed last year contributed to inflation, but the reality is probably the opposite. The UK had no stimulus - we never got those lovely cheques from the government to spend as we liked - and our inflation rate is higher. If the benefits and stimulus of the ARP really contributed to inflation then surely the rate of inflation in the US would be higher than the UK? Think about it - the reason America has lower inflation than most of Europe is because Democrats have been managing the economy in a better way.

Then of course there is the issue of a woman’s right to choose. This really should be a no brainer. If you value the price of gasoline more than the rights of women to determine their own lives, then I truly worry. Gasoline goes up and comes down in price all the time (and America still pays less than Europe at the pump), but if you elect Republicans then you are looking at country in which more and more women die - and not just women who want an abortion - women who want to keep the baby but have a medical emergency. This isn’t how a civilised society should operate, but the GOP want it to be just this way - the return of women to the status of second class citizens, and expendable. They have told you who they all are already. Look at the votes from earlier in the summer when the overwhelming majority of Republicans in the House voted against a woman’s right to choose, and the right to access contraception. They have been explicit in their views - why on earth would you assume they are not serious about them?

And then there is democracy itself. America is at a critical moment in which one party holds sacred the vote and the other cries foul if it loses, no matter what. This is the exact kind of shit found in banana republics - the desecration of the vote, of the electoral process by those seeking power, who know that all things being equal they stand less of a chance of winning. The electoral process should be one person one vote, with no one else butting in to say otherwise, but you have Republicans on the ballot this year who are running with the explicit intention of intevening in the electoral process if they don’t like the outcome. You have Republicans on the ballot this year who took part in the violent assault on the US Capitol because they didn’t like the outcome of 2020, and you have Republicans on the ballot who support those who stormed the Capitol. The media will devote endless articles and reports to both-sidesing the situation, but the stark reality is if you don’t vote for Democrats up and down  the ballot paper, you are allowing fascism to take over.

Is the US perfect at the moment? No, but Trump had four years in which he ripped up every norm under the sun. The repair job from that tenure alone takes longer than two years. Add to that the consequences of the pandemic on global supply chains, and the Russian invasion of Ukraine, and it is wholly insane to throw out Democrats just because you think they’re not doing enough. Look at America, then look at other countries. Look at the UK. Look at Germany or France. America under Democratic control is faring considerably better than the rest of the West, and that is down to Biden, Pelosi, Schumer, and Dems. You don’t throw out the repair team mid-way through the job, and you certainly don’t fire them mid-way through and replace them with cowboys who have made it clear that they have no plan to fix anything but will in fact rob you blind instead - rob you of your rights.

Dear America, Please for Blue this Tuesday. You really don’t want to be in a situation of Liz Truss economics, Gilead rights, and all presented in the guise of Qevin McCarthy, Gym Jordan, and Hershel Walker.

[emilybahu]

My Thoughts while watching 7x09

Watch out! Many spoilers here… you have been warned (to those who haven’t watched the episode)

Wait a minute… LAST MARCH! So the cruise ship disaster happened in 2023!? How much time has passed from the beginning of the season to now!?

Bobby is so proud of his team! His face says it all! 🥹

The look on Bobby’s face when he’s given the medal of valor… It’s bringing back too many memories for him. I feel so bad for him! OH BOBBY! 😭

Madney and Henren! Yeeesssss!

Buck and Tommy! I wish I had gotten to see more of them together!😞

“Hey Ravi, you know you don’t have to eat everything at the buffet right?” “Why else would I be here on my day off?” I’m rolling on the floor! 🤣

GERRARD *shudders* gotta get that man outta here! He’s NOT welcome!

Buck saying “The way you guys talk about him I assumed he was dead.” Then Chimney answering “Only in our hearts.”

GOD DAMNIT I HATE GERRARD!

“You taught me right, whenever I see some filth I think of you.” YOU GO CHIMNEY! BURN THAT MAN TO THE GROUND! 🔥

Councilwoman being sus, I don’t think anyone thought she’d be up to any good…😠

BOBBY RETIRING!!! NAAAHHHHH

Bobby! This whole arc for him makes me feel so sad! But this thought of him not being the hero that everyone else sees him as has been in the back of his mind the WHOLE TIME!

“You’re really sure about this, walking away from the 118?” “I don’t have anything else left to give…” BOBBY WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO US!?

Oh… hi Kim… don’t mind Eddie he’s just admiring you while he thinks about his dead wife. Who by the way, is your spitting image!

This whole boat scene between Eddie and Kim is just… 😀

Athena and Amir’s conversation! 🫠

No, no ABSOLUTELY NOT! BOBBY!

“Just don’t forget Mara and Denny aren’t the only kids you’re raising” cut to Buck and Eddie! STOP THIS IMMEDIATELY! 😭

Bobby giving Ravi tips! 🥹

Bobby giving Buck the groceries and letting him cook dinner for the team!

You’re giving Eddie a prayer book!? 🥲

He’s so damn proud of how much they’ve all grown! FAMILY DINNER! They all look so happy, and it’s all going down the drain! 😭

Bobby and Buck’s conversation! He’s so proud of his boy! I’m not whimpering, you’re whimpering…🥺🥹

He’s so happy that Buck has found happiness in Tommy “What is there to talk about? Tommy’s good people, he’s good for you.”

“Cap? Thanks. You know… for everything.”

“It’s been my pleasure, kid.” God my heart, listen I’m not okay…

So after that heartfelt conversation between Buck and Bobby you’re gonna jump to BUCK MEETING KIM! 🫠🫠🫠

The fucking look of realization on his face…

In his brain he was like “oh shit… she’s seeing Eddie, she looks just like Shannon… I don’t think Eddie’s okay, I’d better go talk to him”

EDDIE FACETIMED WITH KIM IN THE FIRE STATION!

Oh here we go! Buck and Eddie conversation!

“Kim’s just a friend…”

“Yeah, a friend who’s a dead ringer for your late wife?”

Oh really Eddie, “nothing” nothing is going on…

Buck and Eddie having this really open honest conversation is exactly what I wanted between them, not a big blowout fight, this quiet, calm conversation is more their speed now I think.

Also the “I’m worried about you.” And “Yeah. I’m worried about me, too.” At the end… god okay you two! 😢

Yessss Henren and Madney dinner party!!

Nooo! Not everyone KNOWING there’s something wrong with Bobby!

Nope NO!! The damn councilwoman! JUST LET THEM ADOPT MARA!

Thank god! I’m actually really happy that Eddie came clean to Kim about Shannon! But this whole situation is still so messed up, I feel bad for her…☹️

“Have you been spending time with me? Or with her?” Oof that hurts man, Jesus!

This is just so sad…

“I guess she was the love of your life.”

“I think she was. Yeah. Though I’m not sure I knew at the time.” Goddamnit Eddie! Im already sad enough!

Oh god! Amir in Bobby and Athena’s house, looking at all the pictures! Nuh uh! Nope! The rage building up in him is truly terrifying!

Oh no, Bobby and Athena fight! Noooo! I don’t need this!!

Well I’m gonna go cry now… THEY’RE FUCKING TAKING MARA AWAY! Noooo! All Hen and Karen wanted was her to be happy! And now they’re tearing Mara away from them! 😭😭😭

Kim KIM!! WHAT THE HELL! Oh my lord…

Feel the emotions Eddie! You need to! This whole scene broke me! Don’t mind Eddie being a broken man and just casually breaking me in the process… I might have to make a longer post about this scene alone…

“I’m broken and I can’t fix it.” I’m going to CRY!

“You were supposed to be here with me, baby.” 😭

NOT MARISOL WALKING IN WITH CHRIS! NNNOOOOO! AAHHHHH WHY!?

Chris saying “Mom?” I CANNOT DO THIS! The look of pure confusion on his face! He’s been through so much, this poor boy!

I spilled my thoughts about Bobby’s dream with his dad already, but my god that hard to watch. 🥲 (posts I made about Bobby in this episode: post 1 and post 2)

Of course the house being on fire WASN’T a dream! WHY!?

The fucking look of fear and pain in Bobby’s face… this is too much for me already, without him having what I’m assuming is a heart attack!

I literally sat on my bed for almost half an hour in something like a trance after watching this episode! Like are they trying to kill us or something!? The finale is gonna be a fucking doozy!