#look ma i'm a writer

[some-pers0n]

Found that the TF2 Big Bang I joined last year has a page on the Fanlore Wikipedia for some reason it's so funny to me to see this

"Works ranged in length from 1621 words to 19131 words" gee I wonder who that person was who wrote like a 20k word fic for an event :]

[bitimdrake]

would you say tim drake is a mary sue?

We've all gone back and forth on the concept of Mary Sues, huh? I remember when every other fic on fanfiction dot net was an ooc, idealized self-insert story and the term starting rising to prominence. And then the over-usage when any character remotely cool or competent was declared a Mary Sue. And then the pushback, and the "is 'mary sue' a sexist term", and the "if you think about it, james bond/luke skywalker/whoever is actually the real mary sure", and so on and...

Getting off track here. Important part is, imo 'may sue' has very little (if anything!) to do with a character's traits/abilities/appearance/details. Instead, it has everything to do with how they--and the characters around them--are treated by the narrative.

DC comics are not one narrative. DC comics are thousands of narratives huddled up together in one multiverse (with most of those runs in a shared universe).

Which is all to say: I don't think this question can be answered. Fandom often talks about characters as isolated actions figures, but I don't think any character can be a Mary Sue in that context. In the context of a story, sure--but, like any popular dc character, Tim's been in a zillion stories under dozens of different writers.

Like, Peter David's version of Tim in the Young Justice run? Nah, not really, I'd be hard pressed to see it. Fabian Nicieza's version in his run on Robin or Red Robin? Yeah, very solid argument. Lobdell's new 52 Teen Titans Tim? Ehh, I think he sucks, but I'm not sure I'd classify him as a mary sue.

It depends!! It depends for everyone! Any character can be a mary sue in the wrong hands, and not in the right ones! I have no answer for you.

[cheerfulmelancholies]

In the spirit of Halloween, have this random short story based on a bizarre dream I had a while ago. It was weird, somehow vivid enough for me to remember, and also took place in the fucked up dream equivalent of my childhood neighborhood that has appeared in numerous dreams over the years.

Yeah I don't know either. But it was enough for inspiration to strike! So I made note of it, forgot about it for many months, and am now just coming across it again. It's a weird crossover of horror plus V-day.

It was dark and it was pouring. The wind was pulling Mark's umbrella every which way, leaving him partially exposed to the downpour. The occasional tree leaning over the sidewalk was the only other cover available. This was unacceptable. Today was supposed to be perfect! He was supposed to have delivered these gifts himself hours ago while his girlfriend was at work. Now it was well past dinnertime, storming, and he was on his way to show up unannounced as part of his surprise.

Claire would be happy regardless, but he'd always feel the sting of failure at letting things be this way. He'd have to make it up to her somehow. No time to think of that now, however. He stopped under the protection of a large tree, the only rain to hit him being the fat drops that fell from the leaves.

Still gripping the umbrella, he readjusted the box of chocolates stuffed inside his jacket, hoping his body heat wouldn't melt them too much. After chancing a glance at the bouquet of roses he was trying not to crush while shielding them from the elements, he began to continue his trek through the storm.

Only for someone to slam into him, knocking him and his gifts to the ground.

"I'm so sorry!" the individual said, reaching for him. They hefted the man to his feet with ease and quickly scooped up the fallen goods. "Here."

The flowers and chocolates were back into Mark's arms before he could even take a proper look at the stranger. He looked down at the bouquet and noted it was drenched. Some of the petals had fallen off and the whole thing looked awful. The box of chocolates, though still sealed in their plastic and thus safe from the rain, had somehow managed to become dented. The umbrella was unable to be saved, having been taken by the gusts of wind.

Mark's veins filled with an icy rage that made the rain feel like a sauna by comparison. "You've ruined everything!" he shrieked, voice cracking. He dropped the items and whirled to face the stranger, their back to him, and lunged from the cover of the tree.

The knife went in easily, and took just as little effort to pull out. It repeatedly slid through muscle with that same ease, and it wasn't until the stranger collapsed that he had any trouble stabbing them.

Mark watched the rain and blood mix, his anger quelled only slightly by the fact they'd learned their lesson. He stayed out of cover, letting the rain wash away whatever evidence may have splattered onto him. Now that he looked, the corpse by his feet appeared to be a young woman. At least, judging by the hair and the charm bracelet.

She looked a little too similar to Claire, but he knew it wasn't her. She'd never be out this late.

Mark sighed and turned to the ruined gifts. He couldn't present them to her now. He'd have to wait until her birthday in the next couple of weeks to properly surprise her then. She didn't like when he gave gifts out of the blue; they were only accepted when there was a reason for it. He'd learned that once the receptionist at her old job wouldn't let him through after a surprise visit a random day of the week.

He was glad when she finally left that job.

After scooping up the soiled flowers and chocolates, he turned to head back the way he came.

Only for the woman's supposed corpse to block his path.

Now that she was facing him, he couldn't believe he ever mistook her for Claire. This woman was deathly pale--perhaps from the stabbing--and had eyes darker than the surrounding storm. She stood still as a statue, a cold scowl across her features.

Although she wasn't physically imposing, something about her demeaner made his insides scream. He took a step back, then another, knots of worry tightening within his stomach.

Her wide, frigid eyes merely stared back. "That was just unnecessary," she said, voice emotionless.

Mark wanted to spit out a rebuttal, something to show her he wasn't afraid, but found his voice paralyzed. Something was wrong with this woman. His stomach felt like lead. He didn't know if he was going to throw up or lose control of his bowels.

By the time he realized it wasn't fear he was feeling, it was far too late.

"Today, a gruesome scene was discovered on Fort Street early this morning. An elderly woman reported seeing blood and viscera on the sidewalk two houses away from her own as she was about to spend some time on her porch to feed the birds. Police reported the man as 28-year-old Mark Hampton, who was last seen at the local drugstore buying Valentine's Day gifts for the woman he called his girlfriend.

"This woman has requested to remain anonymous, but has given us a statement. She describes her relationship with Mr. Hampton as that of a victim, stating that the man has been stalking her for several months and even caused her to quit multiple jobs and file a restraining order. It's been ruled out as a homicide, however, due to lack of evidence and no viable suspects. Authorities suspect it was the doing of some sort of animal, yet no one is sure what creature could do such a thing to a human body. Some say..."

The news report continued on, pondering the death of a deranged man as the woman got up to leave the bar. It seemed that even here she couldn't escape the outside world, as several patrons remained glued to the screen, spreading gossip and theories amongst themselves.

She supposed it was time to move on anyway. She'd spent too long in this place and caused too much of a ruckus to stay put.

People always said she was too nice. She'd shoo their assumptions away, insisting that she was anything but. She prided herself on being neutral at best, and yet...

That would be the last time she'd ever apologize for bumping into someone.

[twstinginthewind]

Well.

Spent the morning writing something for a riddle/ace au that i'm building with a friend and honestly? I like it so much I might actually make it into a fic. Is there a market out there for mid-20s loser Ace who's so fed up with his dead end life that he decides to try and summon a wish-granting demon, makes a mistake, and ends up with a bookish misfit succubus instead? Or is it just me and @transriddlerosehearts lol

[bykshre]

We Found Love

charles leclerc x female reader (smau) 1/2

summary: you and charles were meant to be together even if the media, society and his girlfriend criticized you.

trope: childhood friends to lovers, ferrari driver x head strategist , mean gf (no hate to any of charles' gf's, ex or current.)

a/n: i know i know im the worst updater and writer ever (I'm sorry okay 😭 I'm busy and I lose motivation lol)but im back slowly but surely, and this is so new! My first F1 fic aahh :D This is very small, I just needed to get this out (monza took my heart away!) hope y'all like it hehe xx.

Months before MONZA

ursernames

life lately - enjoying the break before it's Monza ❤️‍🔥🌷🌺🌠🪽🥨🍽️🪡⌨️👠💎

iked by charles_leclerc,mlnmarta, and 1M others

lewishamilton looks like someone had fun!

⤷ ursernames obviously mate 🧉!!

charles_leclerc wannabe artistic ass 😘😻🤡

⤷ ursernames shut up donkey 🐴🫏😊

kikagomez 💫💗

liked by author

@Ynniequeenn

I'm surprised Charles isn't spending the vacay with her. Sounds fishy but they still act close 😕. I don't know man.

⤷ @chrshls: people like you suck! get a life.

charles_leclerc

everything is good 🩵

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, ursername and 4M others

joristrouche amazing!

ursernames leooo awwww

liked by author

pierregasly simba and leo meetup soon? 😂

⤷ charles_leclerc soon!

alexandrasaintmleux amores <3

liked by author

ursernames

thank you for the wishes everyone, just took another lap around the earth 🌍 🌷🌺🩵

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz and 5M others.

formula_1 happy birthday to the best-ever strategist!

liked by author

scuderiaferrari buon compleanno stargirl!

⤷ ursernames grazie mille!

charles_leclerc joyeux anniversaire ma meilleure fille

liked by author

mlnmarta joyeux anniversaire ma soeur

⤷ usernames 💞💞

oscarpiastri have a great day old lady 🥳

⤷ ursername when i catch you oscar when i bloody catch you! 😵😵

f1wags&insiders

BREAKING 🚨 Charles Leclerc and Alexandra Saint Mluex were fighting at a party! Apparently, it was the same birthday party held for Y/N's 27th birthday. What are your thoughts 💭?

liked by 40K others

alexfp i just can't stand this anymore! It's clear that something's up with charles 😐

leclecice bro, alex is straight up toxic just admit it she is NOT a paddock queen neither the IT wag ughh 🥱🥱

lestappenfpp time for charles WDC lesgoo

ynstan will charles and yn ever date? they have that CHEMISTRY yk

malenalexx it's definitely something to do with charles

⤷ unknownchaaa smartest alex fan..

ynstrategyss literally how crazy can Alex even get until they fuck up yns birthday party?! seriously i lost my respect for her.

alexandrasaintmluex

🌺🌺 floral vibes 🌺🌺

liked by joristrouche and 100K others

alexfp omg our queen 👑!!

foralexa hi alexx i hope you're doing well ❤️‍🩹 you look gorgeous btw 🤩

liked by author

kikagomez 💫😵⭐

rebeccadonaldson literally so pretty 🌺🌺

⤷ alexandrasaintmluex says the prettiest!

charlesfanpage charles not in the likes? sus.

leclecicecreammm someone's tryna churn content asap b4 the breakup LOLL

⤷ alexandrasaintmluex you're hilarious. 🥱

ynstrategyss hope y'all okay...

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

2 weeks before Monza, at the Ferrari HQ

"Hey, can we talk, please?" Charles asked Yn as the meeting begun to wrap up.

"What do you want, Charles? Does making me look like a fool on my birthday not enough?!" You said very honestly.

"No,no, mon cher, listen to me."

"I'm sorry for whatever Alex caused during your birthday party. I wanted the party to be nice and surrounded by your close friend's and family. I'm regretful I chose to bring Alex as a tag along. She wanted to go and I can't say no anyways."

"What's your point, Charles? I'm tired of this drama. I am." You said,

"Yn, we've been friends since so young, we spent almost every day with eachother, basically inseparable. Maman practically consideres you her the daughter she never had and you're really close to my family and brothers. Even with my exes you had a close bond with them."

"Mhm, that's right I loved your exes." You said slightly smiling,

"Ever since I dated Alex, she.... she liked fame and attention. Even if she didn't show it much. And when she saw us being close and basically just friends, she got mad and jealous. I didn't realise much until you told me when she confronted you."

"She reads a lot of the news, tweets and those tiktok edits of us that is all over social media. She is influenced by them. And I honestly don't get how they consider our bond romantic but not platonic."

"Alex has been fighting a lot with me past few months. We are not close, anymore. Not liked we used to be. She's constantly screaming and I can't stand her anymore."

"Mon ange, whatever happens with you and her, please... just tell me. I saw the texts she sent you and it wasn't pleasant. Why have you been keeping this a secret. Please ange, don't do it anymore."

"I don't know how longer I can sustain this relationship if it continues to be as toxic as this." Charles said earning a pout from you.

" Charlie, I wanted to see you happy with Alex. I'm sorry about what's been happening at home. I'm sorry too.." you said,

" Are we good?"

"Yeah we are, Charlie" you said, earning a tight hug from you best friend.

It's undeniable that you've always liked Charles. He was handsome, he was everything a women could've dreamt of. And obviously you're one of them. You'd never had the chance to confess and you think you'd never will. It's better to blossom a good, sustainable friendship rather than risking it all for a relationship. Your a simple person, you're critical and realistic.

When Alex confronted you about your relationship with Charles, it hit you till the pit of your heart. You begun thinking if you were too clingy or romantic with Charles. You begun distancing yourself from him thinking you were at fault. You did not want to be a homewrecker,ever.

Although Charles confrontation settled a little of your thoughts, you cannot deny the growing feelings for Charles in that heart of yours.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

charles_leclerc

P4. Deluso ma abbiamo dato tutto. Grazie a tutti voi per esserci sempre. E domani, andiamoooooo 😍

liked by carlossainz,oscarpiastri, ursername and 3M others

ursername let's get it ✨✨

speedingcharles we counting on u buddy

anthoinetrouchet let's get it ittttttttt aaa

alexandrasaintmluex 💕

ursername

story, 1hr ago

feels great to back in monza! hoping to make tifosi's proud this weekend 🇮🇹 Let's see what we can do with a P4 and P5.

RACE DAY IN MONZA.

⭐⭐⭐

@F1LiveUpdates:

"Lights out at Monza! Charles Leclerc is in the fight for P1, but all eyes are on Ferrari’s strategy today. Y/N calling the shots 👀 #Monza #CharlesLeclerc #Ferrari"

@LeclercFans:

"Y/N on the pit wall, looking like a boss. Monza is hers to win 🔥 #YN #FerrariFam"

Your heart raced as you watched the battle unfold in front of your eyes. Charles was in second, fighting tooth and nail to close the gap on the leader. Your freshly manicured nails hovered over the radio button, ready to call the next move.

The crowd roared in the background, but your focus was razor-sharp. Charles trusted your instincts, and you wasn’t about to let him down.

Y/N (over radio):

"Box, box. Let’s go for the undercut."

Charles

"Copy. Trusting you on this."

The team jumped into action as Charles pitted. Y/N watched with bated breath, hoping the strategy would pay off.

As Charles emerged from the pits, your hands clenched into a fist. The timing was perfect. They had nailed it. It will take time to pass through lando but it'll be worth it. And you knew it.

Y/N (over radio):

"P1. 35 laps ahead. Now hold it. You’ve got this."

The crowd was deafening as the final lap approached. You stood with her arms crossed, staring at the screens, barely blinking. Charles had a three-second lead, but the pressure was immense. Your heart pounded in time with the roar of the engines.

Y/N (over radio):

"Last lap, Charles. Bring it home."

You held her breath as the checkered flag waved and the roar from the grandstands signaled what you'd hoped for.

Charles (over radio):

"We did it! P1! We won, Y/N!"

Bryan (over radio)

"AND P1!"

@F1Live:

"Leclerc takes P1 at Monza! What a race! Ferrari fans are going wild! #CharlesLeclerc #Monza"

@FerrariFans:

"Y/N’s strategy today was perfection. Absolute genius. 🔥 #TeamYN #Ferrari"

@LeclercNation:

"Y/N hugging Charles after that win? Yeah, there’s something there. No one can convince me otherwise. #CharlesAndYN"

charles_leclerc

Siete i numeri 1, Forza Ferrari ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

liked by ursername,alexandrasaintmluex, lewishamilton and 10M others

ursername congrats charliee <3

liked by author

⤷ charles_leclerc couldn't done it without you, yn 😘

formula_1 tifosi's pride and joy

lewishamilton enjoy the win mate! great job

oscarpiastri congrats charles!

pascale_leclerc my boy

liked by author

⤷charles_leclerc i didnt leave you at the gransdstands this time 😂

ursername

story, 2h ago

FEVER DREAM!! GRAZIE GRAZIE TUTTI MILLE!

@LeclercNation:

"Alexandra needs to chill. Y/N is just doing her job. She’s a strategist, not a homewrecker! #TeamYN"

formula_1

leo meets his papa who just won the italian grand prix! lovely family at sight 🐕🐶🐾

liked by mlnmarta,alexandrasaintmluex and 2M others

alexfp ahh the cutiess, though she wasn't here but mah queen is always here to shine

alexandrasaintmluex 😍

lecleccreamss since when did F1 turn into a wag thing. Seriously F1? This content is unnecessary!

alexandramyqueen omg our couple is back yayyy

mimosahater @F1Dramaa post. look at this post.

@F1Drama:

"Rumors are flying that Y/N and Alexandra had a heated argument in the Ferrari garage. How much longer can this triangle last? #CharlesLeclerc #YN"

@FerrariInsider:

"It’s getting messy. Y/N is too professional to get involved, but Alexandra seems to be on edge. #F1Gossip #FerrariDrama"

@LeclercNation:

"Y/N is just trying to do her job, but Alex is clearly feeling threatened. Charles needs to step up. #TeamYN"

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

You were packing up in the garage, getting reading to back to the hotel, when Alexandra appeared at the doorway. She looked calm, but there was a fire in her eyes.

"We need to talk." Alex said

You set down your notes, bracing yourself. You replied, "About what?"

"About Charles. About you."

"I’m just doing my job, Alexandra. If you think I’m trying to come between you two, you’re wrong."

Alexandra crossed her arms, stepping closer. "I don’t know if I believe that. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. I’m not stupid!"

Your jaw clenched. "You’re right. You’re not stupid. But you’re also insecure. And that’s not my problem. I’m here because I’m good at what I do, and Charles knows that."

"Insecure?" Alexandra’s voice was laced with venom. "Do you have any idea what it’s like watching him put you before me over and over again?"

"He doesn’t put me before you, Alexandra. He’s just focused on his career. If you can’t handle that, maybe the problem isn’t me. Maybe it’s your relationship."

Alexandra stared at you, her expression hardening. "You think you’re so untouchable, don’t you? That because you’re the team strategist, you’re safe. But I see the way you want him."

You took a deep breath, stepping forward. "If you’re so sure about that, then maybe you should talk to Charles instead of blaming me."

"Look here, Charles just won the Italian grandprix. It's a big celebration for team. Let's be happy for the win, instead of bringing this up, now."

"Have a great day, Alexandra" you said and left the paddock without any hesitation.

ursername

thank you bryan, charles, carlos, fred and the team for making this strategy happen! to our biggest supporters, the tifosi ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 6M others

lewishamilton absolutely fantastic strategy yn, you made it happen 👑👑

⤷ ursername i absolutely cannot wait for you to get on this team any longer!! tysm lewis, really appreciate it 💕💕💫

charles_leclerc tu as réalisé mon plus grand rêve, merci ma belle stratège, ma meilleure amie bien-aimée 🥇🥇🥳🥳❤️❤️❤️

⤷ ursername you were behind the wheel, you make us all dream mon rêveur, mon soleil 🩷🩷

mlnmarta such a shame i wasn't able to witness this but again, ma petite sœur, tu nous fais tous rêver 🥹

⤷ ursername tu aimes me faire pleurer 🥹❤️

After the Azerbaijan Grand Prix

charles_leclerc

story, 2m ago

Part 2 when?

[renelrites]

GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS LOOK AT MY WONDERFUL AND BEAUTIFUL TEN FOLLOWERS SWEET CHEESE DIDN'T THINK I'D MAKE IT THIS FAR

UHHHH HERE'S A THING I WROTE TO CELEBRATE??? CAUSE I LIKE SUFFERING TO CELEBRATE THINGS ANYWAY YEAH HAPPY FEELIES

---

As she walked into the cave, she felt a cold shiver shoot down her spine. The echoes of old screams and old demons filled the shallow rock, ringing in her ears. Water dripped from rocks above her, seeping into her thick, dark hair. She should've been afraid— shaking in her black leather boots— but this was the place where she was supposed to find her fears. If she had known what she was afraid of she wouldn't have come. If she had known what she was afraid of her mother wouldn't have forced her to come.

A second tunnel, smaller than the one she was in, appeared before her in the darkness. She eyed it curiously, vine green eyes glazing over the entrance. A spine-chilling breeze flowed through the tunnel, freezing her bones. The echoes silenced making the sudden breeze more eerie than it should've been. She spotted a sign, words illegible, covered with bloodied chains clanking against each other in a unsteady manner.

"This must be it." She said, voice unwavering and calm.

She strode inside the tunnel, heels clacking against the onyx floor. Walking inside the ominous cave she didn't know what to expect; maybe a serial killer with a silver sword or a mythical creature with teeth darkened with blood perfect for gnawing on her bones. What she didn't expect was... Nothing.

She looked around, blinked a couple of times, wondered if her eyes were closed, but she knew they were open. She knew she was seeing, she had functional eyes, but all she saw was nothing.

A trick, it could've been. A ruse, it must've been. A scam, it couldn't be. A lie, she couldn't see. What was she looking at exactly?

She went to turn around— turn? What was a turn?— and found nothing. 

She reached for an opening and found nothing.

She reached for her aged leather— or was it silk? Cotton?— jacket and found nothing.

She reached for her hands and found nothing.

Was she nothing?

She screamed. Nothing.

She went for the walls— what were walls again? Nothing.

She fell to the ground— what was a ground? Did she reach it? Nothing.

She— who was she?

"Who am I?"

Nothing.

[yesihaveaobsession]

Beautiful as You

Alastor x female! florist reader

Summary: The reader (you) meets Alastor after bringing an order to the hotel, he becomes fond of you and decides to visit you at your little shop.

A/N_- I'm ALIVE! Sorry I have been really unactive I've had horrible writers block but I'm back y'all!!

You’d always loved working with flowers; they had always brought you a sense of peace amidst the chaos of Hell. One day in particular, you received a call from Princess Charlie Morningstar, who was calling from the Hazbin Hotel to place an order for a large arrangement of sunflowers and a few other bright blooms for a special event. You were happy to help her and support her dream, crafting a bouquet that captured the warmth and hope you had always seen in her.

When you arrived at the hotel and knocked on the door to drop off the flowers, you were surprised to be greeted by none other than the Radio Demon himself, Alastor. You were quite starstruck—not just because Charlie wasn’t the one to open the door, but also because you’d heard so many stories about Alastor that seemed to permeate the very atmosphere. After all, who in Hell hadn’t heard of Alastor? But seeing him in person was truly something else.

He greeted you with a broad grin, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place, but the thought didn’t last long. He took the bouquet and the other flowers Charlie had ordered from you, and as his large claws brushed against your smaller hands for just a moment, you felt... a connection?

Since that day, Alastor had taken a particular interest in your little shop downtown. He’d passed by it many times during his outings and had always thought about stopping in for a quick look, but this time it was fate. Alastor began visiting regularly, bringing you a handful of wildflowers he’d picked somewhere. These flowers were beautiful, and you often wondered where—and how far—he’d go to find them for you.

One day, you weren’t at the counter when Alastor made his daily visit. Not to mention, he always seemed to come up with little excuses to see you, telling the others at the hotel that he had "business to attend to," but that business was visiting you. You were in the back room, sorting through a new shipment of flowers and preparing some new orders that had just come in when you heard the door chime. Not thinking much of it, you continued with your work.

You pretty much owned and ran the business by yourself, but your friend helped out and was at the counter. She greeted the customer as usual. Alastor's smile widened, though a hint of confusion flickered in his crimson eyes. "Ah, good afternoon," he greeted, his voice crackling like an old radio. "I was hoping to see a lovely florist—she's about yay tall," he held a hand slightly above your height, with a smile as bright as a sunbeam. "You wouldn’t happen to know where she might be hiding, would you?"

Your friend recognized him instantly and struggled to suppress a smirk. "You mean her?" she asked, deliberately raising her voice as she called your name. You emerged from the back room, wiping your hands on your apron to remove the soil and soot, and paused when you locked eyes with him. He was holding his usual bouquet of wildflowers. You wouldn’t think it would surprise you, but you were surprised that he kept coming back.

There he was, grinning at you like you were the most important thing he'd seen all day.

“Good afternoon, my dear,” Alastor greeted, his voice carrying that old-timey radio crackle that sent shivers down your spine. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything too important.”

“N-No, not at all,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I was just in the back... um, what can I do for you?” You tried to keep your cool, and your friend smirked, clearly figuring it out. Alastor then stepped closer to you, holding out the bouquet.

"These are for you, ma chère." You carefully took the wildflowers from him, your fingers brushing against his once again.

"Thank you, Alastor... That’s very sweet of you, and they are absolutely beautiful." Alastor's smile grew wider, sensing that he had made you happy, and he was pleased with himself. "Perhaps... you might consider bringing another arrangement to the hotel sometime soon? Charlie has been raving about the last one you delivered.”

“I’d be happy to,” you replied, your nervousness slowly easing as you met his gaze.

"Excellent," he said, offering a short bow before turning on his heel to leave. He paused at the door and looked over his shoulder: "Until next time, my dear." You watched as he exited your shop, the door chime ringing softly behind him. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Wow,” your friend teased, breaking the silence. “So, how long have you been on first-name terms with the Radio Demon?”

You blushed furiously, unable to hide your flustered state. “It’s nothing like that. He’s just... a customer.”

“Uh-huh,” your friend replied, clearly unconvinced. “A customer who just so happens to bring you flowers and makes you go all starry-eyed. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the Radio Demon has a crush.”

You tried to protest and glare at them, but deep down, you knew she was right. And you couldn’t wait for the next time—the next order for the hotel, or his visit in general.

[fillinforlater]

On her back

Male Reader x Bae Joohyun

Length: 2958 words

Tags: Daddy kink, Master kink, breeding kink, literal breeding, like impregnation, rough sex, mating press (for literal, REAL mating), from loving to degradation, emotional manipulation, teasing, overstimulation, multiple creampies, spitting, toxic relationships

TW: rough impregnation, emotional manipulation, the usual "On her" stuff

Inspiration/Credit: not possible without @sooyadelicacies, my great co-writer and inspirator

(A/N: Reminder that OC is an asshole and that this is fiction. Anyways, rough daddy kink breeding sex, yay. Enjoy a subby!Irene lol. Btw, it's been more than a year since Part 1 came out!)

“I’m here if you need a break from all these youngsters xoxo”

You are alone in the backseat of a Mercedes-Benz, quietly sipping on a cool, refreshing beverage with your airpods in. You need to destress and know just the person to see. You put your drink down and begin to close your eyes, settling in for a quick nap before you arrive at your destination. 

Maybe it was only a few minutes, maybe it was much longer than that, but you feel the car stop and you begin to wake. 

"We have arrived, sir."

Looking out, you find a beautiful secluded home surrounded by lush greenery. One of your many getaways. 

"Thank you, as always," you say politely as the door opens up for you and you're handed your luggage. You stroll up to the door and put in the passcode as well as the biometric scan of your fingerprint. But before you turn the knob, the door already opens and you are greeted by a stunning beauty. 

"Irene," you say simply. 

"Hello, my love."

"It's been a while," you add, a sigh on your lips, but you keep it down.

"It really has," the small woman responds, hands fidgeting on her sides as she just stands there, her boundless beauty that will persist for decades to come filling the air like the strong, vibrant smell of ripe fruits.

"God, you're so fucking pretty." 

This time, the sigh is at least palpable in the aftermath of your words when your arms reach out to her. Joohyun tenses up for a seconds before your embrace reaches her, caresses her back and finds rest on her butt. With ease, you pick the petite idol up and Joohyun's legs instinctively wrap around you.

You kiss her gently, lovingly. "Still tensing up? I thought I trained it out of you?" you tease. 

She blushes. "It's been a long time, Ma—" 

"Shh, not yet. There will be time for that. I need my lover right now, not my toy."

A soft smile on her face. One in a million, quite literally: days and weeks and months go by where she can never feel like this around someone else. They all make her put on the cold, reserved, distant smile, but with you finally by her side, she melts.

At least the temperature of her palms cupping your face is able to melt ice in seconds. Joohyun leans close to you and presses her lips on yours, her passion coming over you in a quiet explosion. A tad bit quicker, a little more tongue when she parts your lips, now you pull her in closer.

"God, I've missed this," she coos and you brush away her astray hair. 

"I have been busy... the young ones are quite—"

"Difficult? Always have been. Think of me back then."

You can't help but smile at the memories, though they also make your cock twitch against its cotton prison. Joohyun giggles. She must feel it poking her exposed midriff. 

"Those were fun times, but you know I'm still as tight as ever, only with more experience now. I promise I'll take away all of your stress today." 

"I know you will. That's why you know of this place. It's a short list, Irene." 

She smiles happily and melts her lips into yours once more.

With her secured around you, you wander off, straight to the bedroom, careful not to bump into anything on your way. There are easily a hundred idols you'd just violently throw onto a bed like this and then destroy their tight pussies, but with Joohyun you remain careful for now. Lay her down on it, never disconnecting your lips.

Joohyun starts to undress immediately and instead of following suit, you decide to watch her. Many months ago was the last time you've seen her bare body—at least in real life, up close. There are dozens of videos you've filmed with her and she even sent nudes last month, a rarity for the outwardly timid idol.

"You're skin," you groan and reach for her bare tummy, then breasts. "Still porcelain, still smooth and perfect."

"Th-thank you. I made sure it's perfect, just for you."

"Not for the fans, not for the members? Not for your own self-gratification?"

"Only for you, my Master."

There she goes. 

"Music to my ears. Hearing such obedience. It's rare to find that nowadays, I wonder if my methods are getting stale?" 

You muse, but she knew it was your way of asking for her opinion, her advice. Bae Joohyun was an intelligent woman and admirable leader after all, and she knew all the tricks in the outside idol world and in your bedroom.

"Are you concerned about the outcome, even with all your leverage? Or is it getting too boring for you?" Before Joohyun can continue, you rub in between her legs, over her modest panties to find a little bit of wetness there. Joohyun opens her mouth; no moan, no breath, she just sinks into the sheets. "I-I just don't see the problem."

"They are just so damn cocky and continue to be. Disobedience, arrogance, self-centeredness, it's all running rampant nowadays."

"We weren't any better back then."

Press a finger onto her pussy lips, the fabric disappearing a bit into the increasingly aroused hole.

"Oh, you think so?"

"Ye-yes, Master. Suzy, IU, Jennie, even I—we were all a lot of trouble for you. I remember the reeducation training with Jessica and Nana. Maybe some things never change—ah, fuck."

Joohyun moans when your tongue trails along the side of her body, up to her collarbone where you place kisses. She is now trapped underneath you and with all your experience and ease, you join her in her (almost) nude state. 

Instead of your finger you place a knee on Joohyun's covered heat and she instinctively grinds on it and loses herself in needy, desperate, good girl whines. She starts to pout and you rake your fingers through her hair like—

"Like in good old times." Your deep groan fills Joohyun with love.

"Yes, Master."

"You know how to grind on this knee. You know how to make yourself look submissive. You know how to combust into nothing but bliss when I just command you too.

"Don't you, Irene?"

"Y-yes, Master! You're so good to me."

Joohyun hesitates and whimpers for a moment, looking at you. 

"Master… call me Joohyun please. Irene is for everybody else, but I am Joohyun and I am yours, my Master. Your whore, your slave." 

The shortlist came with perks. She could make such requests of you. 

"Jennie was one of the worst, but she is one of my biggest sluts, so I guess it only makes sense." You think out loud. 

"Joohyun, is it true Red Velvet will have their last comeback soon?" 

She can only nod and hum. 

"I'll have to fuck you after then too… to breed you." 

Her eyes widen and you feel a great dampness in her folds. 

"Master, it will finally be my turn?" 

"We've discussed this before." 

"I-I know… but I said you could breed me before then. You know I would give up my career for you, Master. I only wish to be your cumdump."

There she goes, melting into a shape you have foreseen years ago. Of course she has been ready for it, but the time is right right now.

"Good girl."

You pull aside her panties and give her pussy lips tiny smacks. Joohyun starts to mewl and whimper in this perfect pitch, the pitch only your hand can make her reach.

"M-Master, hng!"

"This hole is ready to be bred." Indeed, you find it to be exceptional compared to even to your best youngsters, perfect, especially the wetness is extraordinary. "Now spread your legs and tell me how much you need it."

"Master, I've needed it since I underwent your training. I didn't allow any man to touch me but you, Master. I am pure. I-I stopped any form of contraceptive. I've been waiting. I'm ready to walk away from being an idol because all I want is you, Master. I see comments online, I know people call me Mommy because of my age and looks, but the only Mommy I want to be is for your child, Master. Breed me please. I am your good girl. I always have been. This whore, this slut, needs her Master to complete my training, to make me your breeding bitch."

You deem these words to be enough, excessive even. There was no need for all of them to be said out loud, you could clearly see it in her eyes, the wanton desire for your cock creaming inside her.  Some people might call it cruel to her, but the last person to call it cruel is Joohyun herself.

You penetrate her gracefully, something she has not experienced ever. There was always a need to destroy her pussy; after all, Joohyun was once a defiant bitch. Nothing of this is left as she ecstatically welcomes you inside, dopamine flushing her brain, passion in the way she moans, laughs when you bottom out.

"Daddy!"

"Squeeze tight, Joohyun. I need you to make me cum as often as you can and keep it all down, so you better be the tightest girl ever tonight."

"I'm Daddy's tight girl, just breed me and I'll not lose any of your seed."

"Stick your tongue out."

Joohyun does as told and you let some of your saliva spill out onto your tongue before it oozes down to her. You always found her cock drunk expression thrilling, this one probably being its greatest form when you start to thrust into her as she still tries to catch your gift.

She pouts, as your saliva misses her just a bit and drips on her body. 

"If they saw you now—Irene, everyone's ice queen—reduced to nothing but my personal whore, a Daddy and Master kink too? Some people think you're a bitch in how you behave and treat others. They are right in a way, aren't they darling? 

“You are my bitch.”

"Ma-Master, you are right," Joohyun moans, her response interrupted by ragged breaths. "I-I'm your bitch, a bitch in heat. Do-do you like the hot pussy of this ice slave?"

Has she always been this humorous? A circle around her clit, just a rub, and her eyes are wide open. Joohyun looks so different in bed, a different kind of gorgeous from her stage presence during songs with the velvet-concept. You appreciate both, but this is clearly your favorite.

"Good that it's still tight," you groan and pound her harder. "I bottomed out a thousand times and still your grip is... fuck."

"Yes, Master, please praise my pussy more!"

"Isn't this enough praise, bitch?" you say in rhythm to slower but significantly harder thrust, the type to make inexperienced girls limp and screaming. Not Joohyun, she takes it well, though her voice still breaks at the rough pleasure forced upon her needy sex.

Joohyun stretches her arms out, holds onto the frame of the bed while you force her feet further apart and higher in the air. She looks stupid, an embarrassing position for an idol of her class to be in. 

"Yes, Master!" she suddenly howls when your finger presses into the flesh of her thighs. "I don't want to dance anymore, make me unable to dance!"

"When I'm fucking done with you, don't even think about getting out of bed." You lean down to her sweaty, burning face and nibble at her jaw. "Don't move on your own before I've filled your entire womb!"

"Yes, Master.” Joohyun struggles to catch her breath, her words somewhere up in the air along with your face deliberately drooling down on her. “It's time isn't it? Please make me pregnant. I've been waiting for so long, Master, I've been patient and good—" 

"In due time, Joohyun, but you will take it all the way in your womb until you're dripping and spilling seed everywhere. One day.” Your promise is sincere, partially because Joohyun’s rippling pussy has your voice a bit strained. Rejecting her would be pointless, really, her pussy could just will you in and if she’s really not taking contraceptives— 

“I've heard your contracts are up in the air. Are you really going to throw it all away for your Master?"

Joohyun puckers her lips for you to kiss, barely able to squeeze out words through them and her forced out moans.

"Yes, M-Master! I don't care about the contracts, I only want your child."

"Then show me that cute little face," you say, teasingly leaning down to her lips searching for yours but not getting them. "The one you make when you cum on my cock like the good slut I trained you to be."

Joohyun is almost at that point of peak devotion, where she can almost will herself to an orgasm just from your command, but it's still too many almosts. You still have to lay a hand on her clit, the other on her waist and move both your hips and hands in quick, stimulating fashion until Joohyun squeaks like it's her first time in your bedroom. 

The night you tamed her, many, many moons ago, was a great achievement, because you know she would still be drop dead gorgeous when you decide to do this to her. Without giving Joohyun any signs of your imminent orgasm, you cream her the moment the pleasure over takes her. 

Her cute expression of bliss and submission to your superior frame is flooded with ecstasy and pride when you flood her cavern and womb with a thick load that is meant to stick inside her and eventually form a baby. Joohyun frantically holds onto your arms stabilizing her ever twitching body, her glassy eyes looking at you in reverence and servility. 

"Th-thank you, Master," she whispers, her face and chest flushed with happiness, both a bit puffed from pride and soreness as her walls still milk you. "It feels so warm."

"I know what you're feeling," you coo into her ear and feel her burn up even more. "Finally, no condom, no contraceptive, nothing blocking my seed from blooming in your tight tummy. Every orgasm before this pales in comparison, because this one was real.

"So I'm giving you more."

"Ma-Master, I don't deserv—ahh!"

You put every vampire to shame when you furiously bite down on a pale sweet spot between Joohyun's neck and shoulder. Unlike vampires however, the faint taste of blood pulls you back to reality, that it's better to just fuck Joohyun's cum-filled cunt deeper than getting your teeth into her deeper. Nonetheless, the euphoric girl has both arms around you and tightly clings to you.

"Ma-Master," she cries out. "I ca-can't take it any-anymore."

"Don't care," you growl, empathy foreign to you. "I don't care if your pretty feet or legs or hips go numb. You'll take my cock until I want to stop."

You glare at her, eyelids hiding sniveling, tears begging for mercy as once again, overstimulation breaks her. What a weakness to still have. It’s part of Joohyun, sure, but you thought she would’ve grown past it, especially for this moment.

"You wanted this Joohyun. You wanted Master to breed you. You begged for it, don't you fucking bitch to me now. Did I make a mistake in choosing you? Are you really ready to give up your idol career if you can't handle me like this?" 

Every word sliced into her. It's been ages since you broke her down like this, not just physically and sexually, but verbally. It was like she was your trainee all over again, a dominant, crushing hand on her throat, an unrelenting pelvis crashing down on hers.

"I will fuck you for however long I want..." 

You pause for a moment and choke her even harder. 

"Suzy can take it. Why can't you?"

"I can, Daddy!” Joohyun screams, finally fighting for herself against herself. “Make me a baby mommy, don't listen to my stupid mouth. You, you own this pussy!"

Feel Joohyun's pussy struggle to take all the cock and cum when you fold her to a painful degree and watch her face become just a canvas for tears. It's also red, like her bleeding shoulder or her round butt which you spank over and over again, red like her sore pussy lips or her insides. 

"Good thing that you're still tight," you scold Joohyun and spit at her face. "At least your pussy is trying to make your real dream come true."

"Master, I'm cumming."

"Shut up. I don’t care. Put your own fingers around your throat. Spread your pussy lips. Look at me, while I destroy you.

"While I end your career, Irene."

A second load, pumped and mixed into the first and ultimately overflowing from Joohyun's gaping hole. The moment you pull out, she knows that this will be it. She is going to be pregnant, no way around it.

You gently cup her face, look at an expression of bewilderment, hurt, happiness, sadness, pain, confusion. Not the first time that you've destroyed a young woman like this while making her pregnant. A kiss to ease the pain a bit, she thinks, but it's just a set up for a reality check.

"I'm a bit disappointed," you tell her. "I needed your full devotion, but it seems you have forgotten how to take a second load.

"That said, I don't regret it. You're beautiful and ready. I think your group deserves one more comeback, then you can tell them what happened."

"Th-thank you, Daddy."

"You can stop choking yourself, by the way."

"Yes, Daddy. I-I love you."

[hotshotsxyz]

this method acting (might pay our bills)

(1.1k) (gen) 8x02 coda with spoilers from the 8x03 teaser. it's still thursday on the west coast, so i'm counting this as a same day coda. anyway brad torrence is a menace and i'm setting up camp in his brain

Let it be known to all, Brad Torrence takes his craft very seriously. So seriously, in fact, that when he’s called to a real emergency, he answers that call without hesitation. After all, what better to inform his performance than real experience? Tonight, Brad is a firefighter; he doesn’t just play one on TV.

His fellow firefighter, Buck, doesn’t seem terribly enthused about his presence. He generally seems to have a worried air about him, though, so maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with him at all. There’s a certain degree of vanity required in his profession, but he isn’t entirely self-centered. Honestly, he’s just glad that Buck doesn’t seem to be starstruck. That would make this entire situation far more difficult.

“Try Athena,” Bobby commands, but before Brad can ask for her number, Buck’s already dialing. That’s fine, he supposes. There’s no time to waste.

Brad’s not actually completely sure who Athena is. Someone important, obviously, perhaps his lieutenant? His character on Hotshots is a bit of a lone wolf, but maybe there’s something else there to explore. He makes a mental note to ask the writers room about adding a new character in the back half of the season, a lieutenant for him to butt heads and then bond with. They could even make it a bit of a will-they-won’t-they. He’s sure they won’t mind a few rewrites.

The phone rings twice, then, to Brad’s surprise, the call connects.

“Buck? Where’s—”

“I’m right here, Athena,” Bobby interrupts. His tone is magnificent. Calm but firm, no doubt inspiring nothing but faith in the woman on the other end of the line, whoever she is to him.

“Oh, thank god, Bobby,” Athena says.

Her voice is a bit garbled. It wouldn’t make for good television, but some concessions must be made for reality, Brad supposes.

“I’m on a plane,” Athena continues. “It’s—it’s not looking great.”

“Athena, if there’s anyone who can land a plane it’s you,” Bobby says. There isn’t a modicum of doubt in his voice.

“If there’s anyone who can land a plane, it’s a pilot!” Athena protests. Brad wishes he brought a pen and paper. Her comedic timing is excellent.

“She’s got you there,” Brad says, leaning forward until his head is between Bobby and Buck.

The look Buck shoots him is just shy of murderous. He’d be a terrible actor, Brad thinks. It’s all about focus and purposeful expression, neither of which seem to be at the top of Buck’s priority list.

“Who the hell was that?” Athena asks.

“Brad Torrence,” he says smoothly, “but you can call me Brad.”

Buck’s expression shifts from murderous to incredulous. Again, terrible actor.

“Don’t worry about him,” Bobby says.

He inflects his words with the tiniest hint of irritation. It’s brilliant – how better to redirect the anxiety Athena must be feeling into something more manageable. Brad only hopes he’ll be able to meet her in person once this nasty business is over.

“I’ve got plenty to worry about. He doesn’t even make the top ten.”

Buck snorts. Rude.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Bobby says.

“Air traffic control is directing us to LAX, but—Bobby, I’m not sure we can make it that far. The hole in the fuselage is getting bigger and our airspeed is dropping fast.” Athena sounds scared, desperate. Caroline could learn a thing or two from her about emotional resonance.

“Did—did you say there’s a hole in the plane?” Buck asks. His voice has a certain gravely, intense timber that Brad supposes would do well in some genres. Action movies, maybe, but not the high budget kind.

“What do you need from me?” Bobby asks before she can answer the question.

“Do you got a runway in your back pocket?” Again, brilliant comedic timing. She has that perfectly acerbic wit that any good heroine needs to have.

Bobby thinks for a moment. “Can you make it to the 110?” he asks finally.

“That, I think I can do,” Athena replies.

“Buck,” Bobby says, only it sounds less like his name and more like a command.

“On it,” Buck says. He twists around in his seat and looks at Brad. “Give me your phone.”

“My—why do you need my phone?” Brad asks. “You’ve got one right there.”

“Come on, man, now,” Buck says, all bite with no room for argument.

“Fine, fine,” Brad says. He slides his phone from the pocket of his turnout pants and hands it to Buck, who doesn’t even thank him for it.

Instead, he turns back to the front and types out a quick text before dialing a number. The call connects almost instantly.

“Maddie,” he says, “I don’t have time to explain. I need you to shut down the 110, get as much traffic off it as possible. We need it completely clear from Sepulveda to Torrance.”

The woman on the other end of the line doesn’t reply directly. “All available units, we’re shutting down the 110. Create roadblocks south of Sepulveda and north of Torrance. All traffic must be cleared between those exits.”

“Thank you, Maddie, you’re the best,” Buck says when she’s done. So, some people do, in fact, get thanked when they do something helpful. It’s fine.

“Is it Athena?” Maddie asks.

“Yeah,” Buck says. “They can’t stay in the air much longer.”

“Alright,” Maddie says. “I’ll coordinate with the IC over there, get triage moved as fast as possible.”

“I’ll keep you in the loop,” Buck says.

The line goes dead, and Brad’s expecting to get his phone back, but Buck sends another text and dials another number. This time, it rings thrice before the call is answered.

“Buck,” a man says on the other end of the line. His voice is warm and honey smooth. Brad should ask his dialect coach about that.

“They’re not—Eddie, they’re not making it to LAX,” Buck says, rushed and a little less polished than he was for Maddie.

There’s a short pause, then the quality of the sound changes. “Where?” the man—Eddie—asks.

“The 110,” Buck says. “South of Torrance. We need you over here, fast as possible.”

It’s odd, hearing his name this many times when he’s not the subject of the conversation. If this was meant to be a TV scene, it’d be far too repetitive.  

“Pack it up, let’s go!” another voice calls. She must be a captain, if the authority she speaks with is anything to go off.

“We’re coming,” Eddie says.

Some of the tension in Buck’s shoulders seems to bleed away. Interesting. “See you soon,” he says.

He ends the call, and Brad turns his attention back to Bobby. After listening for a moment, he realizes that they’re now on a conference call, and Athena is speaking to someone who knows a great deal more about planes than he does.

Brad closes his eyes and leans back. They’ll be at the scene soon. It’s time to visualize. As long as he stays in character, nothing can go wrong.

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Sunsweet Prunes

Ray Bradbury: submitted for the approval of the midnight society, i call this the tale of the lazy summer of youth Bradbury: long days down by the river, fishing in miller's pond, afternoons at the soda shop, ice cream sundaes with fabulous unicorn worlds built of whipped cream, nickels for a dime Bradbury: and becky miller's freckled-face kisses Bradbury: sweeter than sunsweet prunes

Bradbury: sunsweet prunes, i tell you Bradbury: the only prune that's sweeter than a nostalgic midwestern childhood Bradbury: and they come in these little individually wrapped plastic packs too King: Poe: Barker: Koontz: Lovecraft: Bradbury: I just think they're neat

Bradbury: according to my stories, in the far distant future of 2001 Bradbury: we shall travel in tubes Bradbury: we'll have flying cars Bradbury: and we'll all be eating our sunsweet prunes out of individually wrapped plastic packs Poe: wait you never said that in your stories Bradbury: i wish i had Bradbury: i would have been 1 for 3 at least

Bradbury: look, they individually wrap these sunsweet prunes in plastic Bradbury: what a world! Bradbury: its like living in the not too distant future Poe: doesn't that create a lot of waste Bradbury:

Bradbury: tearing open this individually wrapped snack pack reminds me of tearing open presents on christmas morning, snow on the ground, ma and pa taking the day off from working the farm, the whole family arriving in a caravan of automobiles, aunts and uncles and cousins by the dozen, oh my! oh my! uncles a little too loud after three egg nogs, cousins playing cops & robbers in the hay loft

Bradbury: and the feasting, the jollity! too many voices all at once, raised in laughter, in song. the twinkle in dad's eye, the red roses in mom's cheeks, grandpa's baritone chuckle. falling asleep to the sounds of bing crosby on the tombstone radio, surrounded by the warm glow of early evening King: wow these prunes sound pretty incredible King: i'm sold! Koontz: [tearing open sunsweet prune container] guys Koontz: i think my prunes are broken Koontz: i didn't feel any of that stuff ray said

Poe: ray are they paying you to advertise for prunes Bradbury: no no of course not! Bradbury: i would never accept money to tell you about the incredible health benefits of america's favorite prunes, sunsweet Bradbury: full of 12 different antioxidents King: can i buy them with my american express card

Neil Gaiman: but ray! Gaiman: using the limitless vista of your inpirational mind to advertise a mere consumer good Gaiman: such a tawdry use of the gift of imagination! Gaiman: it cheapens us as writers just as the low low prices of chipotle cheapens organic rice and GMO-free beans to bring wholesome healthy Mexican inspired fusion cuisine to the masses

Gaiman: you can't leash the phoenix of creativity to the millstone of commerce! Gaiman: she must fly free! Gaiman: free like the secret dragon sauce available now at now extra charge at your local chipotle King: neil's right! Poe: about chipotle? King: about everything!!

[nudityandnerdery]

[Image Description: A series of sixteen tweets by John Rogers @jonrog1 that say:

1) A moment at the Teamsters/UPS rally this morning clarified our current struggle with the studio CEO's (among other bosses). Teamsters got a lot of wins, but one of the main sticking points is the pay for the 65% of local UPS workers who are part-time …

2) If you read the SAG-AFTRA demands, a truly STUNNING amount of their points involve protecting background actors, and trying to improve conditions for the 87% of their union who makes less than $26,000 a year.

3) As WGA members know, this is not a strike for the showrunners. We're trying to fix the fact the the current younger generation of writers can't even afford housing and their pathway to advancement has been cut off.

4) Like … folks, I'm fine. There are maybe two proposals in there that affect me. I'm walking in 90% weather and losing over 50% of my income for the year because I want the younger writers to get what I got at this stage of their careers.

5) Our unions and the CEO's and various negotiators have a fundamental cognitive disconnect. Because CEO's types only succeed by FUCKING THEIR PEERS.

6) Zaslav, Iger , those types of execs, etc have never gone without so a fellow exec or a junior exec could thrive. A fellow exec failing is the moment to use your own leverage to advance past them, if not destroy them.

7) Part of it is the money but part of this, I think, is a genuine inability to grasp even the concepts of any labor action. Because it is always other-directed.

8) So many people treat capitalism as part of nature red in tooth and claw, but it's not. It's a human construct. There are different rules you can play by -- but not if you want to win.

9) The greatest gift capitalism ever granted was the ability to validate selfish behavior as a virtue because that's "just what's necessary, I don't make the rules!" (Look ma, it's reification!)

10) This is where I usually point out that Adam Smith wrote that you have to overpay workers to keep your labor force up, and you need to take into account the psychic damage of capitalism to the workers, and that admiring the rich is the greatest source of moral corruption …

11) But I'll stave off that diversion to just land with … this is a discontinuity of attitudes which I think was once breached by the fact that management USED to come from people who loved building their company or their trade, even if they eventually did management shit.

12) Now, even that thin thread of SYMPATHY (Adam Smith joke, get it? People?) is gone. The CEO's are working off a different scorecard, practically and morally. We're not just playing by wildly divergent rules, our lives and careers are DEFINED by those wildly divergent rules.

13) To them, we are IN FACT being "unreasonable", as our behavior does not make sense in their moral framework. They don't think they're being evil, they think they're playing by the actual rules, and we're nuts.

14) There's not great conclusion to this, other than to note that the bit about making writers homeless was described as "cruel but necessary" because they genuinely don't understand the meaning of cruel, because they are always on the other side of the power dynamic.

15) And if they're ever NOT on the top of the power dynamic, they're not suffering, they're dead. They are un-people in their own eyes.

16) These men are not irrational, but they are deranged. This isn't about money, it's about identity. And in a fight about identity … they will set billions on fire.

Because they can always get more money. But they'll never shed the stink of losing to their lessers."

end of image description]

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part four

summary: all the stars aligned, and it was you.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: this is your reminder to reblog and comment on fics you like!! it helps us writers out a TON the girlies who get it get it. thanks!!

series masterlist // playlist

"I just have to ask you a few questions... is that okay?" Coriolanus asks, sitting across from you at the small table you find yourself chained to.

"Please." You nod, grinning at him. You were so tired, the bags under your eyes were evidence enough of that. Screw getting you food- Coryo is worried if you don't sleep you'll be all but useless in the games, even if all he needs you to do is run and hide.

"It's just so people can get to know you a bit better. Okay, so..." He looks down at the sheet in front of him, tapping the pencil against the table as he tries to focus on reading. "First, nice and easy, what is your full name?"

"Y/N M/N L/N."

"Great... Okay, and where are you from?"

"District Twelve, born and raised."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen. I'll be eighteen next week." You smile.

"Oh, really?" He asks, pausing mid-sentence as he starts writing it down.

"Yeah." You smile. "Hopefully I'll live to see the day."

"You will." He tries to be reassuring as he scribbles the finished answer on his sheet. God, you got unlucky. Not that his eighteenth was a big celebration like some of his classmates, but Tigris made him a cake with ingredients she'd been saving up for and she refit his school uniform for him. You wouldn't even have that- you would be spending the day fighting for your life, if you even made it that long.

"And who is in your family unit?" He reads directly from the slip as he forces himself to move on.

"Well, there's me, my brother, he's fifteen, and then my ma and pa." You nod. "Well, my pa isn't home much. Lots of work in the mines; usually has sixteen-hour days. I hardly ever see him." You admit, sadness laced into your tone. "Saw him, I mean."

"My father died in Twelve." Coryo says, catching you off guard. He doesn't even fully understand why he felt the need to tell you this. "About ten years ago, it was rebels."

"I remember that." You reply quietly, recalling the lockdown placed on the District after the murder of a peacekeeper general. "He was the general. Crassus Snow, I assume?"

"Yes."

Everyone was forced into their homes at gunpoint, and in search of the responsible parties everyone you knew had their home destroyed by peacekeepers. Yourself included. Your bed was torn apart, and your mattress shredded for any hidden weapons or plans. Since then, you have shared a bed with your brother. A new mattress was hard to make, and your ma never got the free time or materials again.

Up until this week, that was the scariest day of your life. Just before the peacekeepers kicked in your door, your mother had grabbed the two of you and shoved you into an opening under the floorboards- a crawlspace made from a faulty foundation. You were in there for what felt like hours, listening to shouting and your home being ruined as you held onto each other with a hand pressed over your brother's mouth to keep him from crying too loud. Your mother's cries that day never seemed to end.

"It's a small world." You say after a solid few moments of silence, and Coryo can see it in the way you're staring at his paper that you're not reading it. You're zoned out completely. "I'm sorry that happened to you. It must have been scary."

"The war was hard on all of us." He responds. "What... what do you remember?" He had never heard anything about it besides the bare bones of what happened, he had never considered that the people of Twelve would remember it as well. And judging by the look on your face, it wasn't a good memory.

"I was about six, maybe seven, and I was playing with my brother, and I didn't hear anything but my ma must have because she grabbed us and hid us under the floorboards so fast I could have got whiplash. Peacekeepers came into our home, tore the whole thing to shreds, hurt my ma, then took off. Onto the next house. I didn't find out until a while later that rebels killed the peacekeeper general, they were looking for any evidence of conspiracy, I guess. The people who did it."

"Sounds like it was scarier for you than for me."

"But I want you to know," You speak so quickly you almost cut him off. "My parents had nothing to do with it. My pa is an honest, good man. All he ever wanted was to keep us safe. We're not rebels, I promise you that."

Coriolanus almost wishes you were, so he wouldn't be so hurt by what his people were putting you through. "I know. I wouldn't blame you for that."

"Thank you." You whisper, picking at your nails now as you look down at your shaky hands.

Coryo clears his throat, forcing himself to look away from you. "Uh..." He chuckles at the next question, making you look up at him again. "Are you married?"

"No." You reply, having almost completely forgotten about the worksheet in front of him. "I'm not."

"It's just... I just, I have to ask." He says, clearing his throat as he writes it down.

"Of course." You nod in understanding.

"Boyfriend?" He asks, and as you squint at the sheet you can see it's not there, and he quickly covers the next lines with his palm, cheeks flushing pink.

"Yes." You giggle as he snaps his head up to look at you.

"You do?" He asks, voice catching as his curls fall back onto his forehead from the sudden movement.

"Yes, what is so wrong in that?" You raise an eyebrow at him, trying not to laugh.

"No, no, I mean, of course you do, you're beautiful, I just, you never mentioned-"

"Relax, Coriolanus. I'm kidding." You smile at the panic in his tone. "No, I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh, right. Thanks, it's just for, yeah..." He mumbles, pretending to write something down behind his cupped hand so you couldn't see.

You shake your head at him while he's not paying attention, smiling to yourself.

"So, uh, do you have a job?"

"Not formally, but my ma is a seamstress. I help her lots with that. Fixing people's work clothes, stuff like that." You answer, getting back on topic.

"Did you make your dress?" He asks.

"Now I know that question's not on that form of yours." You laugh. "But yes, my ma made it for me when I was five. It's been my favourite ever since."

He looked the parts of it over that he could see above the table. It was well worn down, but well cared for. Similar to a lot of his own clothing.

"It used to be this big, flowing thing. Too big for a five year old- I would step on the bottom of it, just tore it right up." You recall. "So we trimmed the bottom, and as I grew, it grew right with me. I stitched up the bottom when I was old enough to enter the reaping, so now it's got shorts instead. But I still love it, lots of good memories held in the pockets of this old thing."

Shorts instead. So it's easier to run in. The thought haunts Coryo for a moment. The idea that you, at twelve years old, decided this is what you would want to run in, to die in, and took the liberty of sewing up the crotch in it yourself. Every stitch possibly sealing your fate.

"It's nice. I like it." He responds.

"Thank you." You smile, nodding proudly to yourself as you look down at the fabric. "It's real comfy, too."

"It looks it. Not very... restricting." He chooses his words wisely. No wonder you had kept it so many years. It still fit, so why not? Especially when it looked so good on you. The typically plain, neutral tone of the fabric complimented your skin tone so well. Even in bad lighting, it seemed as though you were glowing where the cloth met your skin. Glowing everywhere, now that he thought about it. Maybe you just lit up every room you walked into. Maybe it wasn't the clothing that was made just for you and hugged your form so flawlessly, maybe it was just you.

"Yes, it is not." You agree. "Now, our time is limited. Next question." You interrupt his thoughts, gesturing to the sheet of paper in between you.

"Yes, sorry." Coryo chuckles, shaking the distraction from his head. "Any hobbies?

"Reading."

"I did know that." He smiles to himself. "Anything else?"

"Well..." You think about it for a moment, chewing your lip. "I have a cat, and I like to play with him and take care of him, does that count?"

"I'll count it." He nods, quickly jotting it down. "What's your cat's name?" He asks, purely out of curiosity.

"Tybalt." You giggle.

"Tybalt?" Coryo tilts his head at you and you nod, bottom lip drawn between your teeth.

He nods slightly, prompting you to explain. "He's named after a character from Romeo and Juliet."

"That's your favourite, I remember."

"Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives." You quote. "Mercutio calls Tybalt the king of the cats, so I named him after that."

"That's clever. Very funny."

"Thank you. I thought so." You smile proudly, watching him write down your cats name in his notes. "What is this for, if I can ask?"

"Uh, there's going to be an interview you'll have to do the night before the games. It'll be aired live on Capitol television, and people will be able to send in donations so I can send you things in the arena. Just like I told you." Coryo explains.

"An interview?" You ask. "What does that entail?"

"Well, I'm not sure yet." He answers honestly. "But we'll pass this sheet onto the host, Lucky, if you remember him, and he can ask you questions about your family, your life, any of this stuff. I think really whatever we want, though, so if there's anything in particular you want to say or talk about I can write that down for you."

"Oh, I'm really not sure." You reply. "Nothing in particular, but if you need me to talk I can talk about books for hours on end." You smile.

"Could you do a monologue?" He suggests. He had discussed this with Tigris before, and he was hoping you would, but knowing you, you would be dropping quotes in your interview anyway so you might as well commit to it and display how smart you are with something well-planned.

"Maybe, if you could find me a copy of Romeo and Juliet." You smile. "I think I know it, but it would be nice to have a refresher. Just to make sure I get it right. Would be awfully embarrassing if I made a mistake."

Coryo nods, quickly writing that down in the margins of the page. Considering he had never even heard of this book, it may be hard, but he would certainly try for you. "That would be great. Your goodbye was very moving, although quite confusing for most, but it had people talking about you and that's what we want."

"Okay. I'll practice."

"Thank you." Coryo smiles. "And I just have one more question on here to fill out... Do you have any special skills that you think will be helpful in the games?"

Your smile fades slightly and you just shake your head.

"That's okay. We'll figure it out."

That night, Coryo came to see you again. You were curled up with his blanket, draped half over yourself and half over Jessup as he lay next to you. It was a small blanket, obviously meant for a child, but it helped anyway. Maybe it was just a placebo, but for you, that was more than enough.

As you got up, hearing him call your name in a familiar tone, you draped the blanket more fully over Jessup before making your way over to the bars of the enclosure. "Good evening, Coryo. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I brought you some things." He whispers, digging in his bag.

"How kind." You smile, watching as he pulls things out, handing you a napkin with some bread wrapped inside and tucking whatever else he brought under his arm to give to you after you've eaten. "Can you sit for a few minutes?"

"Of course." He nods, sitting down with you as you cross your legs and unfold the fabric carefully as not to drop what's inside. "I was hoping to talk to you anyway."

"Let's talk; it is not day." You smile, leaning toward him more.

"Should I be asking what that's from?" He jokes, but is surprised when you shrug.

"You could, but I wouldn't want to bore you." You giggle, shaking your head. "Take a guess, though. I believe you'd know it."

He smiles, watching as you take a bite out of the bread. "Romeo and Juliet?"

"Yes." You nod in confirmation, covering your mouth while you speak. "You're a real fan, now, aren't you?"

"I guess so." He chuckles. "The fact that I've never read it is unimportant."

"Completely irrelevant." You agree with a quiet laugh. His smile fades as his eyes land on something behind you, and you turn to follow his gaze over your shoulder. "What are you looking at?" You whisper, looking back at him again.

"Are you sharing everything I bring you with Jessup?" He asks, voice stern as his brow furrows at the question.

"I try to." You nod, taking another bite. "He's not well. I think something bit him the first night we were here."

"You can't." Coryo insists. Of course, he wants you to win, and you handing over every bit of sustenance or help you receive is only lessening your odds. Making Jessup stronger and you only weaker. "I know you're a good person, but once you get in that arena you won't have any friends. Not even him." Coryo explains, strategically skipping over the part where it makes him ill to see you sleeping with your head on the boy's shoulder and sharing the blanket that he gifted to you.

"Oh..." You say, so quietly he can hardly hear. "But-"

"Y/N." He cuts you off, a serious look on his face. "If you keep feeding him, keep helping him, and it comes down to you and him in the end, who do you think will win in that fight? If you had all the same nutrients and sleep, who do you think will win?"

"I- well..." You stutter, looking back at your friend. "It won't come to that. I think we both know that."

"We have to assume it will." He pleads, eyes now locked on yours. "Don't make it easier for him."

"Coryo, he's got a family, siblings, his ma to get home to. They need him." You protest, leaning closer so no one else could properly hear.

"So do you." He reminds you. The look of guilt that crosses your face indicates to him that even though you had your own family, something about Jessup makes you willing to give that up for him to get home. "What about Tybalt? He'll never know what happened to his own mother. Or your brother losing his sister. Y/N, please..."

Your eyes widen at the mention of your cat and your brother in particular. Clearly, Coryo is so desperate for you to listen that he's pulling strings he shouldn't. To make you hurt. To make you pay attention.

Tears fill your eyes as you speak. "I know." Your voice cracks, and the pit in Coryo's stomach tells him he's gone too far. "I'm sorry, I just- I don't want to be afraid anymore. It's selfish of me, I know, but I won't last long and I know that so I just want to get it over with." You cry quietly, reaching up to wipe your eyes on your wrist. You hadn't been so candid with him before, he almost doesn't recognize you without a smile on your face.

"Hey, no, don't be sorry. It's not selfish." He whispers, without hesitation reaching through the bars and resting his hand on your knee. Your skin is cold to the touch, even for him after he had just walked all the way here in the same air. "But it'll be over soon, and I'll get you home. I'll do everything I can."

You sniff and nod, hesitating before placing your hand over his. "I promise I'll do my best in the interview. I want you to win your prize."

Coryo's mouth gets dry at the insinuation. You didn't think you could win, you won't even consider it even with all the encouragement he tries to feed you every day, but you want him to win. "That's not important." He says, shocking himself with the sentiment. The Plinth Prize is his only hope at a viable future, at saving his family. But right now, he doesn't even care.

You don't respond right away, just sliding your hand under his to hold it. His skin on yours feels warm, comforting, the same way it did when he held it when you were first dumped in the zoo. You don't know if it's more comforting to you or him.

"I'm sorry to cry at you, I just sometimes realize what's going to happen to me and spiral over the possibilities and no matter how hard I try to accept it..." You shake your head, looking down at your hands. "I'm still fearful." Your voice drops below a whisper.

"Then don't accept it." Coryo grasps your hand tighter, leaning closer to you and looking at you through the bars. "Fight. Try to win."

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[flamingpudding]

I now have ideas for Klarion is like Robin au

Batman was caught trying to make a contingency plan for Vlad after Tim said that he was like Ra al Ghul

Something happened were Dr. Fate need the help of Vlad and Klarion but all of them right now are and they're civilian identities so they can't help all but one

Cowboy Lassie

So Vlad takes the JLD puts Red Robin he's there to help cuz they need to get Nanda Parbat

Where are the Justice Dark League get to see Lassie in her cowgirl attire I'm talking standard western shirts boots jeans cowboy hat sunglasses I'm talking country

Along with the large horse made out of Lazarus pit be the biggest hater ever to her father as she literally explains that she hates him so much that she started a cult just to hate him

Vlad was just begging for her to help the only reason she does is cuz he brought up her ma

Dan was too busy to help because of the fact he's the head of the theater committee and had about it Danny has incredibly important meeting that he couldn't leave no matter what

And the rest of his kids definitely not going to help him

I should start feeling sorry for Vlad but this AU is just to funny to do so...

Good I love your ideas!

Also sorry if this is not up to how I usually write, I am kind of stuck in a bit of a writers block again thanks to my work....

Anyway! Here we go!

------------------------------

Red Robin, aka Tim, wasn't entirely sure how to go about this at first. Dr Fate had come by saying something about a threat for which they needed the help of 'Chaos' for a change and ranting about how 'Balance' was ignoring him currently because of something that apparently had happened a little while after their last encounter. Now normally this probably wouldn't be to much of a hurdle, if he hadn't tried to be a bit of a smart ass.

Because when he had heard about it Tim in the disguise of paying Dukes school a visit hat looked for Dan Master-Nightingale. Because obviously that was Klarion or rather the current Klarion and the 'Chaos' that could help them out, right? Yeah right...

Before Tim could even approach the other boy the teen had turned around sharply and glared with red eyes at him like he had personally offended him. Which he didn't by the way. Tim was pretty sure he hadn't insulted Klarion errr Dan recently.

"Screw off I got something to do here if we want the next school festival to be a hit. Tell you precious 'Order' to F off unless he apologises to Mom."

That had thrown Tim off a while lot. Because one, that meant Klarion knew who he was behind the Mask too and two, that brat was not going to be helpful or civil with him even out of masks. Not like any of the Klarions every had been but the current one definitely was the rudest among them. But that also meant no help from this agent of 'Chaos'.

Of course Tim wasn't one of the bats and birds for nothing. Bruce had contingency plans for Vlad since he had mentioned his suspicion of the man being like Ra's, so Tim when with the next possible option. If Dr. Fate meant with 'Balance' the Ghost King then they had a way of contacting them. Well not directly them but a contact that could, so he grabbed one of the plans, or part of it at least, and paid a certain millionaire a visit, as Red Robin of course.

It had taken a bit of back and forth, slight arguing in which the man was apparently very insistent in pointing out the time. Which fair it was close to midnight but it was important! In the end Tim had gotten the man to agree to lend them some help but after a phone call that apparently ended with the one on the other side hanging up on Masters themselves the man gave him a peeved look.

"We will have to change plans. Little Badger is not available at the moment and the other kids won't take my calls."

Tim didn't like the sound of that, not because of what Masters sort said about changing plans but the way he used the term 'Little Badger'. For now he would file that back into the back of his mind as his attention went to a map Masters pulled out and spread across his table. The man pointed at a specific place and Tim wanted to face palm. Because of course that man had more connection than just that questionable one between him, the Ghost King and the Klarions.

Masters was pointing at Nanda Parbat.

Good Bruce was going to love this. NOT.

So here he was now Red Robin, dragging a civilian Millionaire and a couple of the Justice League Dark members through the halls of Nanda Parbat as the man directed him where to go while dodging Assassins. For a brief moment he wondered why he hadn't dragged one of his siblings along before he remembered that at least two of them would be grating his nerves even thinner and Batman was busy helping the rest of the JLD containing whatever threat Dr. Fate found until he got the additional help.

A part of him was cursing as he dragged Masters by the cuff of his suit, (who the hell wears a suit when going into an Assassin cult base?!?!), to pull him out of harms way of another trained killer ready to strike the man down. Funnily enough these people all ignored Red Robins presence, like their leader didn't have a sick obsession with him and focused their strikes solely on Masters. That was good and bad, mostly bad but surprisingly the man was somewhat nimble for a civilian. Or there was even more to Masters than they were aware of which Tim also filed way into the back of his mind.

In the end after more or less fighting through half the hide out Masters lead him to a room, that oh great wonder who had thought it, contain the good damn Lazarus Pits! Red Robin wanted to hit that millionaire right now. He wasn't sure how the others present were taking this but he slowly was having enough of that Man.

Red Robin was really contemplating making good on his impulsive thought as a girl in full on cowboy style rose from the Pit waters.

They all, but Masters, blinked at her sudden and dramatic appearance. Masters took a step forward apparently wanting to speak to the girl and Tim only half heartedly because of his sense as hero tried to stop the man.

"Are you done with your cult nonsense, dear little Lassie?"

Red Robin in that moment felt a shiver go down his back when he saw the glare the girl directed at Vlad Masters as well as the room becoming several degrees colder. Mentally, this too, Tim filed back for later.

"No." Red Robin blinked under his mask as the girl snapped with her fingers and the Pit waters around her swirled a green horse appearing out of no where matching her style and he gaped even more the girl unapologetically pointed at Masers who apparently for once got a hint about dodging and ran away as the horse began chasing him.

A part of Red Robin felt like he had to do something to stop this and he caught one of the JLD members with them attempting to step in but the horse completely ignored them. The girl catching his look only waved them off dismissively. "Don't bother. Let Larus have some fun with him, before I sent the entire League after him again for stepping into my turf."

"Isn't Ra's Al Ghul...." He trailed off a little unsure how to proceed here.

"Oh he is sort of the Leader of my merry band of followers of hatred." Red Robin was about to speak again but didn't get a chance as the girl started to ramble on about the logistics of hating someone so much that you raise a cult just for that and the cult just so happens to still have a goal of its own but also are brainwashed to attack on side whenever Vlad Master is involved.

No Red Robin wasn't getting worried. Some of these statements definitely weren't worrying. That the League of Assassins originally was cult to hate just one man in particular was not a shocking revelation. Nor that the Lazarus Pits apparently were alive and also had a hate for Masters. Nor that this girl, Lassie apparently also was a daughter of the Ghost King. And it was definitely not worrying that she apologised for what her cult had done to her family and asked that maybe his older brother should see Vlad Master anytime soon.

Okay everything about that was worrying.

But for now they needed help with a bigger problem. But Red Robin did make a note of breaking back in into Nanda Parbat to have a enlightening talk with Lassie at a later time.

Thankfully after having listened to her rand and mentioning the Ghost King to the girl she did agree to help them. So original goal reached... but several new questions acquired...

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part 14

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.

A/N: yall i still can't believe sophie is asian. im so frickin happy dude. yerin is gonna be amazing. i just know it. anyway, enjoy!

Series Masterlist

You hide behind your hand as you snort with laughter. Benedict is beaming beside you. Hearing your laughter again makes his heart soar.

After your mother-in-law granted permission for his visitation, he immediately prepared himself for the trip to France. He was excited to see you, but he was also nervous. Therefore, he dragged Eloise with him. His younger sister wasn't in the mood to witness another pair of lovesick fools, however, she had never been to France. So she took up the opportunity to regardless. At the moment, a part of her regrets accompanying her brother.

"Hang on, how did you not know she was married?" Eloise asks Benedict.

"I never saw her wear a ring and her home didn't seem like a man lived in it!"

You chuckle, shaking your head, "How is it you always find yourselves in such situations, Ben?"

"Because he is an idiot, Y/N," Eloise responds and you laugh. Your laughter even brings a smile on Eloise's face, "Sorry to change the subject, but I hope you have been well, Y/N."

You softly smile at the young woman you always saw as a sister, "I'm getting better, Eloise. It definitely helps that you and Ben are here," you rest a hand on Benedict's and Eloise's, "Your company was very much needed."

"Always here to help," Benedict says softly.

"You didn't say long you'll be staying here for."

"Madame Montclair has allowed us a week, unless you grow tired of us."

You scoff, "I will never grow tired of you, Ben," realizing what you said you add, "And you, Eloise! Don't tell your siblings, but you two are probably my favorite Bridgertons."

Eloise hums, "Oh, please, Y/N. We already knew that," she bumps your shoulder with a cheeky grin and you two giggle.

Benedict watches as you and Eloise discuss your current works. Every once in a while, you'd turn to him and ask him a question. And every time your eyes fall upon him, the world goes quiet and he feels at ease.

________________________

Benedict gets along well with your mother and father-in-law. They, too, are fond of the arts and are in deep conversation with Benedict and his time at the academy here in France.

You can't help but feel a sense of pride fill you as Monsieur and Madame Montclair laugh at Benedict's jokes, praise him for his successes, and, overall, displays an openness to him. However, James had told you that is just how your mama and papa have always been. Good people.

Their relationship often makes you think if that's how your parents would have turned out if your mama hadn't passed early on. Would your father still love and care for you? Would he be happy and proud of your success as a writer?

The thought of him made you lose your appetite. You place your fork and knife down with a frown, immediately bringing you to the attention of papa.

"Are you alright, ma fille?"

"I apologize, I've suddenly lost my appetite. Is it alright if I step outside for a moment?"

Mama nods, "Yes, of course. Shall one of us go with you?"

"I will be alright. It'll just be for a moment, excuse me." You look to Ben with a nod and then to Eloise. Everyone watches as you exit the dining room.

Benedict clears his throat, "Forgive me if this seems inappropriate, but how has Y/N been doing from your perspective?" he asks the older couple, "She's only told me that she has her good days and bad days, but nothing truly more than that."

Madame Montclair sighs, dabbing at her lips with her napkin, "It is true. Much like my husband and I, Y/N feels as though she has accepted her life without James. Other days, it's hard to even go about her day without being stricken with grief. But as the months have come and gone, I think she is slowly healing. Her desire to go back out into the world becoming stronger and stronger. She will be going back to London after your visit."

Benedict and Eloise look at each other in surprise, "She hadn't told us that yet."

"Ah. Well, I apologize for that. I'm sure she was going to tell you. But I do think it's good that you two are here. I can already see she's happier."

Benedict softly smiles and nods, "Yes, well, my sister and I care a great deal about Y/N."

"That much is very clear, Mister Bridgerton," Monsieur Montclair says, "And I hope when she returns to London, you continue to care for her. We, too care a great deal about her." The older man gives a stern look to Benedict, one like a father scolding a son.

Benedict nervously clears his throat, "Yes, of course, sir."

_______________________

You're sitting on a bench outside, letting the air cool you. You're not sure how long you've been out there, but Benedict comes out with concern etched all over your face. He sits beside on the bench, hand grabbing yours to warm them, "Are you alright?" he asks, using his breath to warm your now cold fingers.

You sigh, "Yes. I'm sorry to leave dinner like that."

"It's fine. I just want to know what happened."

"Just watching James' parents made me think of my own. They made me wonder if, had mama not died, would they end up like that? Happy and proud of me? Would papa still love me and admire my work rather than scold me and cast me aside?"

Benedict squeezes your hand, "I understand. I, too, often think about how life would be if my father didn't pass. But I think it's best not to dwell on those things. If you get too caught up in it, you miss out on the wonderful things that are happening now right in front of you."

You hum, looking down at your fingers intertwined with Benedict's, "My aunt once told me after my mama passed, that in death, there is life. New beginnings. I suppose she is right. After mama's death, started my desire to publish my writings. With James' death, he brought you back into my life." You stare into Benedict's eyes, seeing how soft they are as they look back at you.

You find yourself leaning closer and Benedict is too, "Ben-"

"Everything alright?" you hear Eloise as she approaches and you two immediately create some distance between each other.

You clear your throat and look over your shoulder, "Yes! We were just about to head back inside."

"Very well. Make haste, it's cold out!"

___________________________

Your almost kiss with Benedict kept you up that night. You've been mentally scolding yourself for your weak resolve. He had only been staying with you for a few days and you are already throwing yourself at him. Your heart has always been weak when it came to Benedict. Even after falling in love with James, your love for him never compared to the love you had for Benedict. You always knew this.

However, it hasn't been a year since James had passed and you're already moving on with another man. You can't in good conscience do such a thing to James like that, even if he already knew how your heart had always belonged to Benedict.

Still. You need to control yourself around Benedict no matter how much your heart yearns for him.

[chippedshake]

Based on a prompt by @amethyst-writer

It's been a couple weeks since Darry and Ponyboy agreed to stop fighting. Of course, months of a strained relationship, of barely contained hollering and silent tears at night aren’t going to vanish with a simple conversation. They're going to keep on arguing, no one could believe anything else, but at least Soda won't be forced to be a middleman anymore. They won't tear their family apart anymore because they're communicating and talking to each other and not bottling up their emotions until they explode in a slap and running away and two of their friends dying.

But old habits die hard and Ponyboy is late again.

"Where've you been?" Darry asks, trying to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.

"M'I late?" There’s a testy undertone to Ponyboy's voice, daring Darry to disagree. Is he the only one putting any sort of effort into this whole "no fighting" thing?

"Yeah, buddy, you're late."

They aren't screaming. Two months ago, they would be screaming. Now they're trading tense, passive-aggressive statements with long stretches of silence in between.

Darry doesn't know which one he prefers.

"Sorry."

"Can you stop with the sarcasm for a second and actually talk to me?"

"I am talkin' to you, Darry, you just don't care about what I say 'cause you already got your whole speech prepared."

A scathing reply is crawling up Darry's throat and dancing around his tongue, tickling his gums and pulling at his teeth, trying to force his lips open.

Pony ran away and Soda ran away because you can't keep your temper down.

"Right." He shoves it back and down his throat "I'm sorry, Ponyboy."

Ponyboy can't meet his eyes and shifts his weight to his right leg.

"Don’t worry 'bout it, Dar. I'll try an' be on time next time."

He is. On time, that is, the next time he goes out. Which is the day right after, by the way. As if he didn’t want to spend time with his brothers.

The problem this time is that he's gone out with Curly Shepard and TPd their principal's house.

Pony didn’t even tell Darry. He had to find out when the school called him because they got caught.

"I just can't believe you were this stupid! Don't you ever think, Pony? How do you expect to get out of here when all you ever do is get into trouble with Curly Shepard, who spends more time in the reformatory than in his own house?" Darry takes his coat off aggressively as they walk inside the house and Ponyboy flinches back on instinct.

Darry freezes.

"Shoot, Pony, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I swear I didn't mean to scare you." His voice is soft and careful now; he's talking like he would to a scared child on the street who's missing his parents and scared of the big stranger talking to him.

Oh.

"I'm sorry, Pony." His voice is pleading and he's forcing tears back because he knows it won't help anything if he starts crying now. He's apologising for so much more than just taking his jacket off and they both know it, but Ponyboy won't meet his eyes. He looks anywhere but at Darry, his face drawing back awkwardly as his shoe tries to make a hole in the floor.

"S'fine Darry, I know you didn't mean to."

Pony may say it's fine, but nothing about their situation is fine.

Darry starts noticing. Every time he pulls a chair back. When he wanders out of the kitchen with a knife. A quick hair-ruffle without warning.

It all feels violent. Reminiscent of that night that gets further away with every day that goes by but still haunts Darry's mind the moment he closes his eyes.

And he's trying, he's really trying, to make sure Pony knows he doesn't mean it. Blubbering out apologies, moving slower, announcing actions.

None of it's enough.

Ponyboy doesn't seem to spend any time at home anymore. He's always out. With Cathy or Curly or Mark or even Bryon, who seems to hate him for some reason Darry can't wrap his head around.

He gets home right for dinner and hardly says a word.

It's Darry's fault, if course. No matter how much he apologises, no matter how much he tries to take back all the stupid yelling (and that night, that goddamned night that haunts every night that's come after), it's never enough. Ponyboy isn't going to forgive him and, honestly? Darry can't blame him.

But they promised. They promised Soda that they would try and that they wouldn't hurt him anymore.

And now they’re back in the same place: unspoken tension strung tight in the air whenever Ponyboy and Darry are in the same room, Soda trying his best to dissuade it without taking sides.

Darry doesn't know what to do anymore.

Is there even anything of his family left to save? Did their last hope at functionality die with their parents on those train tracks ten months ago? How can he get his little brother to forgive him?

Does he even deserve forgiveness?

Soda's gone to sleep and Darry's own eyelids are heavy but Pony isn't home yet and he's waiting up.

Ponyboy's fine. He's come home late before, always in one piece. Darry himself used to come home at ungodly hours of the morning when he was still in highschool, and his parents never waited up.

No one waits up for their kids when they go out with friends.

But the moment Darry thinks about going to bed, Ponyboy appears in the park, drowning because Darry trusted him to cool down and come back.

Sue him for being nervous.

The door squeaks open as Ponyboy comes inside and Darry leaps to his feet.

"Where the hell've you been?"

Ponyboy shrugs his jacket off and hangs it on the hook by the door before answering.

"Out."

"Out," Darry repeats sarcastically, "like you always are these days. I'd be surprised if you spent a single minute in this house that wasn't so we could feed you! You ever think about your brothers when you're off on joyrides with Curly Shepard – don't look so surprised, you know I talk to Tim –"

"If you know where I am all the time then you don't gotta worry about it, do you?"

"Yes, I do hafta worry about it because you’re my little brother and Curly Shepard is nothing but trouble."

"Like you ain't friends with Tim–"

"That’s different and you know it. I don’t know how you'd even know who I talk to since you never spend any time at home anyway, but–"

"You ever think that maybe I don’t wanna come home because all I ever get for doin' it is you hollerin' at me? Oh, it's all better now 'cause you apologise fer yellin' all day, but that don't change the fact that you do!"

"What else am I supposed to do? You know damn well we can't keep tearin' Soda apart and God knows you ain't puttin' in any of the effort. Tell me, Pony, what do you want me to do? 'Cause that's all I do, aint it? Just follow your every–"

"I want you to be a better brother!"

A beat of silence.

Ponyboy's breathing quickly, his chest shaking, and Darry can hear the tears he won't let fall.

"D'you remember when I lost your football a year ago?" His voice is fragile, tense, barely audible over the silence that's rushing through Darry's ears. "The one the whole team had signed. You hated me for days. Then we bounced back a week later without even a sorry. And now–" His voice breaks and a faint hiccup makes it through his defences. It takes all that Darry has not to wrap his arms around his little brother "–now ya can't even say two sentences without a sorry bein' in the middle of them and I'm sick of it! I'm sick of it because I ain't fragile and I ain't gonna break if ya tell me to do my homework! I just didn't want you on my case all the time, but even that's better than whatever this is.

"You wanna know why I'm always with Curly? 'Cause he calls me an idiot when I mess things up and he wrestles with me and only says sorry when he actually hurts me. 'Cause he don't treat me like I'm made of glass. And I'm not!"

Ponyboy ends his rant with a little stomp that looks so absurdly childish after their fight that Darry almost laughs.

But it's a stark reminder of the fact that Ponyboy is just a kid. He's just a kid and he's gone through about as much as Darry, who still feels unprepared for it. Ponyboy's fourteen but he isn't, not really. Fourteen-year-olds don't have to worry about their friends crumpling under streetlights or drinking so aggressively they end up in a hospital bed they can't pay for. They don't have to worry about carrying out their best friend's dying wish.

Ponyboy's sick and tired of everyone around him treating him like a kid when he can't really be called one anymore because kids are innocent and what part of Ponyboy can be called innocent right now? He's gone through enough loss to know what he can handle and how he should cope, and yet everyone's assumed he doesn't because he's a scrawny little kid.

Darry walks – stumbles – over to the couch and sinks down into it. He rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands and runs a hand down his face.

He can't look Pony in the eyes, not now. Not if he really wants to say it right. Instead he stares holes into the couch in front of him, trying his best to find where to start.

"God, I–" He cuts himself off with a sigh. "I'm so sorry, Pony. You're right. It's stupid, I wanted to protect you from the world, at first, make sure you got outta here." He laughs humourlessly. "Can't believe I didn't realise how pointless it was. You can't protect someone from the world they live in. Then I wanted to protect you from myself, which was even stupider, I don't even know what I was trying to do, but I was trying–"

He's cut off by a small body – too small, hasn't he been eating? – ramming into him as Ponyboy sits down on the couch next to him.

"I know," Ponyboy whispers as his arms snake around his older brother, his head buried in Darry's shoulder. "You're tryin' and you ain't perfect." He takes a deep breath. "And I also know I ain't exactly helped much."

Darry gives a breathless laugh. "It's fine, Pony. I wasn't a saint at fourteen either."

He wraps an arm around Ponyboy.

"We'll figure this out, someday, right?"

"'Course we will." Ponyboy's voice is muffled by Darry's shirt so he turns his head to awkwardly look up at him. "We did that thousand-piece puzzle that one time, remember? We're invincible."

He laughs again and ruffles Ponyboy's hair.

"Fuck yeah we are."

[buddiebeginz]

So thoughts on the deleted scene:

First I think Tim has been very strategic about these deleted scenes. Which ones he chose to cut and which ones he’s choosing to release and when. More so than in previous seasons. Like obviously certain things were cut for time but I also think he filmed some of them knowing they could be used later. Like the one with T*mmy didn’t even need to be released or if it did they could have done it when the ep aired but instead they chose to release it much closer to when season 8 is coming. They’re trying to prep the audience for the fact that the B/T relationship isn’t going to last.

Similar to that this deleted scene with Chris and Eddie I think was supposed to be a part of episode 9. They could have released it before ep 9 aired so we would have understood more about why Eddie took Kim on the boat or even after the episode had aired would have worked too but they didn’t. I think that's because the scene isn’t really about Shannon it’s about Eddie and how he views relationships and it’s also about Buck.

Eddie talks about how Shannon wasn’t his first girlfriend. I've seen a lot of people say that's just because the writers fucked up. Especially given the convo that happened with him and Buck in 701:

Eddie: "I married the first girl I dated."

Buck: "Think you might mean slept with. "

Eddie: "Point is, I'm a nester. I nest."

I mean it's possible it was a continuity error but I don't think so. The thing is if Eddie has dated or had a crush on a guy before Shannon he likely hasn't told Chris or maybe anyone that. So it's possibly that's what he was talking about when he said, "your mom wasn't my first girlfriend". It's true they didn't use gender neutral pronouns but given his whole mood when he was talking about this even beforehand it makes me wonder.

He says, "I know the first one's hard to get over but you will." And the way he seems a bit emotional when saying it you'd think he's talking about Shannon initially but then Chris says, "did you get over mom?" That's when Eddie says, "your mom wasn't my first girlfriend."

His emotional response initially could have been him thinking about the first boy he had something with but wasn't allowed to be with.

Then he talks to Chris about meeting Shannon for the first time. I've seen some people say that this is reinforcing Eddie's heterosexuality and his attraction for women and love for Shannon (and no doubt the B/T stans are saying that too). But I don't see that.

He talks about looking at Shannon the whole day but the focus in his his retelling of how he met Shannon is primarily on his time spent with her and how she made him feel. It's not on the physicality of their relationship or how she looked. It's actually Chris that even asks "was she pretty" it's not Eddie who initially brings up her appearance. Eddie responds, "la chica mas guapa del mundo," which I believe translates to "the most beautiful girl in the world". To me the way Eddie talks about Shannon just reinforces what I've always believed and that's that he loves her but was in never in love with her and definitely not sexually attracted to her.

Now obviously he was talking to his teenage son and there's a certain way you're going to talk about relationships to your teenage son than you would to another adult. He's also talking about Chris' deceased mother so that's also going to color how he thinks and talks about Shannon but I still think it's very deliberate in how the show is choosing to have Eddie think about women and Shannon in particular that is connected to his sexuality.

Think about too that this conversation with Chris happened around the time Eddie was seeing Kim and we know that Eddie never made that relationship physical even though Kim likely wanted it to be (she asked him why he didn't kiss her). Eddie also explicitly told Buck that the thing between him and Kim wasn't physical. I say all this because listen to what Eddie choses to highlight about his earliest memory of Shannon:

"We spend the rest of the day hanging out, talking, sitting on a boat out on the water, away from our friends. To be honest she did most of the talking. I was just happy to be near her. We talked until it got dark and everybody went home."

He doesn't say he couldn't wait to hold her hand or we held hands or I walked her home and we had our first kiss or anything about the physical part of that relationship. Just the stuff you'd usually associate with two teens who were falling for one another. I just think it's very telling that his sole focus was on talking with Shannon and that's the same thing he did with Kim.

And then the most important part of this entire conversation comes at the end.

Chris responds, "Penny didn't make me feel like that."

Eddie then says, "Exactly. Someday somebody will and you'll never let them go."

This line to me isn't about Shannon because that relationship just never really worked with them at any time. It was something Eddie was always running from and then even when he wasn't he was using it as place to to hide behind. As the performance of what he thought he was supposed to be. Like playing at a picture perfect family when that was never how things were with them and it wasn't what he wanted. Not with Shannon anyway.

The person he has never run from or let go of is Buck. Him and Buck have chosen one another time and time again. Eddie is talking about a soulmate in that line and that person for Eddie wasn't Shannon. I'm not saying his relationship with Shannon wasn't important it was and it will always have an important place in his life but she isn't the one who knew him the best. Who he could really be his true self with. The person who has seen all of the worst parts of him and loves him regardless. Who pushes him to be the best version of himself. That person is Buck. This is why I think they held off and released that scene so close to when season 8 is coming. This is the season when Eddie will realize that his person his Buck and this conversation will hold even more meaning.