#she ends up with mary btw

[stupidstrawberrystars]

a fic where the prank wasn’t stopped and snape gets bitten and he learns abt being a werewolf and becomes friends with remus and those two and lily become an unstoppable duo that reek havoc and remus defends snape against his old friends (and lily and james don’t get married) and they all help each other get over their prejudices

[gogandmagog]

The Blythes are Quoted by L.M. Montgomery

[a-jar-of-beetles]

It's crazy to think about how there was this whole thing about how the rat grinders were forced to take deal in order to leave a weird astral plane, and the Fig was just like nope and sucked Ruben's soul into her recording studio to force him to drink warm seltzers for all eternity (or until Henry asks her nicely)

[m0e-ru]

i know your blog mainly focuses on more of the “side characters” (?) from p4 but i was curious if you had a favorite member of the investigation team? :3

side characters AHAHAUAHAA i like that theyre to the side because it makes it less pressuring to think about them compared to like an izanagillion piranhas infesting a lake about a more popular character. maybe that's why I'm repellant to them <- ??????

anyway I love risegirl from the bottom of my heart I want to brush her bangs and kiss her exposed forehead and tell her she's doing amazing and we hold hands and run around in a circle lalalalala. I don't have any pictures but shes just so sweet to me.

her idol life and masking 24/7 absolutely crushing her I'm glad she made the decision to bail and actually chill for a while a be herself with people that love her, instead of trucking on and breaking herself like other poor child idols. she has the strength to let people into her life and know that they'll accept her back. it's absolutely astounding to me that she can be so cheerful and hype up others to be their best even after everything she's been through, or maybe that's where she got her willpower in the first place. her ambitions for being an entertainer are genuine as she just wants to make little girls like she once was, and still is, be the best that they can be.

the competition and drama in the entertainment industry is predatory, but I'm also so happy she can bond and be friends with kanami and the rest of the kitchen girls, despite the rivalry being forced on poor middle school scouted idol kids.

it's so fascinating to me how she has a navigator persona, a support persona. along with her endearing and cute nature, she's keen on reading people and reacting accordingly. of course, you can't blame her for her shit reactions, with naoto most notably, because she's literally going through puberty I mean she just turned 16 cmon guys cut her some slack. she can raise people's spirit whether or not she's in her idol persona because that's her power as Rise Kujikawa, that's just the kind of person she is.

she's free to express her feelings, whether her excitement, her playful infatuation with bancho, push her boundaries when shes unsettled and needs space, being angry or annoyed or stressed, and even crying tears nowhere near crocodile tears. she's a very genuine girl and a very genuine teenager of her age. she regulates her emotions accordingly, whether or not she actually does, but it makes her feel real in that regard. there are things she'll regret once she's older but I'm glad she's living and thriving the way she's supposed to: freely—despite her working as an idol.

speaking of genuine, I love her quirks. her laugh is so cute and the way she squeals is adorable, in the english or jp dub, so props to both voice actors. she's pretty athletic, being a great dancer with enough stamina to sing along. but she's kind of shit at songwriting, with that one flavor text I thought was funny. she spends her free time outside her classroom looking at the fire alarm, tempted to ring it. she knows so much about tofu and walks around the shopping district in her apron when business is slow. she goes to remedial with kanji during the summer because their autism lies in doing vocal exercises and crocheting NAWT the pythagorean theorem.

don't get me started with her beef with marie because I think it's the cutest and most hilarious thing ever. imagine you're the labeled tsundere of the cast but your category 9 autism transfers all your tsundereism to the girl behind you. marie is hot and cold about her feelings, just being embarrassed when she puts her guard down in front of bancho usually. but she's a curious and impressionable girl, so when margaret insults the girl on TV, Marie's just going to parrot that and rise starts pouting about it "that's not how the slogan goes!!" But when bancho's out of the picture, they can be normal girl friends, eating desserts and styling outfits for each other and singing duets. hell, in pq, theodore makes a lame haiku and marie and rise giggle in unison. well, maybe rise isn't a tsundere in these cases, but her seiyuu Rie Kugimiya is known for voicing tsundere roles, some I'm already familiar with, so it's funny hearing her in her element.

I could keep going on how I love risegirl but I'm going to sleeo goodnight I love girls

[olivers-cocoapuffs]

Mama Mia AU with Jily, Killerlily and Regulily

[enbysiriusblack]

remus loves folklore books, lily loves fantasy books, regulus loves classical books, peter loves comic books, emmeline loves detective books, dorcas loves poetry books, mary loves romance books, james loves sci-fi books, marlene loves rock magazines, sirius loves play scripts

[yuukei-yikes]

i just think everyone should be in love with takane because she’s so kind and awesome and it drives me crazy that no one ever recognizes it except for haruka which is why he’s the only one who she loves back <3 srry for going crazy abt it it’s In My Brain

[ajdrawshq]

i love sending my brother screenshots of lil manga Akechis where he looks all sweet n innocent to make it seem funny how badly hes treated in our au with him. and pretending the canon horrors he doesnt know abt dont exist

[artemismatchalatte]

I finished reading The Well of Loneliness yesterday and I think it will haunt me for a while. I read two articles about Hall and one on Woolf for my research (finally cracking into it!) and it only gets worse. I have read into psychology too which means I have the bad, bad habit of trying to find meanings and patterns in behavior of the authors I read as well as their characters. There was a lot of self-loathing which was brought on by the extreme homophobia of the era (Hall lived from 1880-1943 so late Victorian era to mid-WWII; she died of cancer two years before the Allied victory in Europe). 

She may have also had a major martyr complex (or at least issues with her faith since she was a Catholic). Her character was even named Stephen- for the Saint of sports and generosity- martyrs herself at the end in a bizarre ploy to make her girlfriend Mary hate her and ‘save her from the miserable life of being gay’ by letting her live a ‘straight’ life with Martin (who sucks btw). 

Martin keeps going after Sapphic women- both Stephen and Mary- and is like ‘golly gee, I sure wish these girls would like me’. (Get a clue seriously?) He freaked out on Stephen earlier in the novel when she wouldn’t marry him. I do not know why Hall was trying to make us feel bad for him, because I don’t. She’s even framing him as ‘a good man’ which I really, really don’t like. There are good men in this novel but Martin is not one of them. Stephen’s father is probably the best man in the novel because he actually loves and cares for his daughter (unlike Stephen’s mother who is scared of her and later wishes her daughter dead upon learning of Stephen’s failed affair with Angela). 

I guess I did not remember this book at all or else (I suspect) I read two different editions from this year and my first reading in 2012. This time it seems like a longer story but again, I did not connect with it last time. But maybe it was like when I reread The Bell Jar I had to be old enough for it to emotionally effect me. Or more unfortunately, I had be able to connect to some of the content because that usually is a sure-fire way for a book to fuck me up. The Bell Jar fucked me up after I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder- the book horrified me to my core. Similarly, recently realized I’m most likely a lesbian so of course Hall’s book is fucking me up now. 

Also I don’t know why Stephen’s character (and unfortunately Hall herself) insisted on chasing women who most likely weren’t gay or bisexual? Una was bisexual, but after reading more about her obsession with the nurse Souline it doesn’t sound good (I’m sure other articles I’m going to read will also cover it). She knew full well that there were gay bars with real lesbians in her time (she writes about the various gay bars in her novel) and I’m sure she had several social connections and could find other sapphic women, if she really wanted to.

It made me feel really bad for Hall that she felt she needed to try to persuade another woman to love her? The horrible scene with Stephen freaking out over Angela’s betrayal (which was warranted) probably happened in real life. Girl, don’t do it. I feel like that’s lesbian rule number one: DON’T FALL FOR A STRAIGHT GIRL. 

My heart hurts for her even though she lived like a hundred years ago. Ugh. </3

[augustameretrix]

I can't help but respect that gabi was engineered in a lab to be disliked by as many people in the fandom as possible only to have plot armor and be liked by every other character as part of her arc which happens to be emotionally essential for the plot and generally be gods specialest little princess

[a-leg-without-fear]

Strange Love

i am so fucking obsessed with this man it ain't even FUNNY. oh btw here's some filth

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader 🩸

Rating: 18+ (i need jesus)

Wordcount: 4.5k

Warnings: smut, foreplay, mentions of PTSD, bloodplay, PnV sex, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, logan's teeth, choking, knifeplay, slight voyeurism if you squint seriously this is so dirty i NEED jesus

Song: Strange Love by Halsey

It wasn’t the tossing and turning that woke you. It wasn’t the occasional movement of his hands, the pushing into your side, the sheets being tugged off your body. You had grown accustomed to the flinches and twitches. Those things were typical when sharing a bed with someone. 

It was his breathing. Short, quick, ragged. Like a band of iron was squeezing his chest and restricting his lungs.

Your eyes snapped open and flicked to Logan. He was covered in sweat, beads dripping down his forehead plastered in drenched hair. His teeth were bared, grinding. Sharp canines digging into his bottom lip and splitting the skin before the wounds would seal themselves. Fists clenched in the damp sheets, claws just barely poking out of between his knuckles, fingers squeezing the cotton between them.

Right, a nightmare. He was having a nightmare.

These were a nightly occurrence for him. Logan’s past would dredge itself up in his sleep and torture him for hour upon sleepless hour. Raking his mind through the coals only for him to wake up and not remember a thing. 

It was risky to wake him like this. Once, Marie had tried to get him to wake up only for Logan’s adamantium claws to end up pierced in her stomach. She was fine, having briefly absorbed Logan’s healing ability and allowed herself to live.

That wasn’t a risk you could take. You had a minor amount of healing your body was capable of. Smaller cuts and bruises were your specialty. You could manipulate the rate at which blood flowed and carried the necessary chemicals in order to seal wounds and reverse bruising. Foot-long claws stabbed into your abdomen weren’t something you could easily fix.

You cleared your throat, shifting to the side of the bed opposite him, and said, “Logan?”

No response. He continued to breathe heavily, eyes darting back and forth beneath his furrowed brow. You sat up, determined to end this round of nightly torment. 

“Logan? Hun, wake up,” you said, louder than the previous attempt. A string of incoherent mumbles escaped between his clenched teeth. You sighed and climbed out of bed. Turning to face him and crossing your arms, you braced yourself and yelled, “Logan!”

His hazel eyes flew open as he jolted up, claws shooting out and chest heaving. Silver light glinted off the six razor sharp claws jutting out of his fists. The sheets bunched around his bare waist, his pillow falling off the bed and onto the floor.

“Logan?” you asked, as quiet and calming as possible. Logan’s gaze shifted to you from darting wildly around the room. As soon as his eyes met yours, the claws retreated back beneath his flushed and clammy skin.

He swallowed with difficulty as his mind registered who you were. You could practically see the gears turning beneath his soaked, dark hair.

“Logan? It’s me,” you said. Logan squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his eyelids.

“Shit, I’m sorry, doll. Did I wake you?” he grunted. He leaned back on one arm as he smoothed his hair away from his face. It was hard to prevent your gaze from wandering. A toned, tanned chest peppered in dark chest hair melting into defined abs with a trail of dark hair leading beneath the sheets. It took a lot of willpower to look back at Logan’s face.

“Eh, I’m used to it,” you replied, an easy smile falling across your lips. You kneeled back on the bed and ran a comforting hand along his shoulder. His gaze fell to your hand then met your eyes again. 

“It’s not the best thing to get used to,” he said. You could feel the muscles in his shoulder tensing under your palm. A frown stretched across his face, “I shouldn’t be wakin’ you every night.”

“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” you said softly. You lifted your free hand and smoothed out the wrinkles created by his furrowed eyebrows. Logan smacked your hand away as you laughed.

“Seriously. I could hurt you,” he insisted. To emphasize his point, a single claw extended from his right hand, opposite of the side closest to you. He lifted the metal beside his face and said, “When I sleep, I ain’t in control of these things. I… I can’t lose you.”

You raised your hand, running your fingertips across Logan’s arm, before taking his fist in yours. He allowed the action, keeping the claw extended. You moved his hand closer to your face.

“What’re you doin’?” he asked, tugging his hand out of yours. The silver claw retracted back between his knuckles. You sighed while climbing into his lap, straddling his hips with your thighs. You grabbed the same hand again.

“Do you trust me?” you asked. Logan’s glare searched for some kind of trick or fear hiding behind your amused expression.

“Of course I do,” he replied, albeit a little apprehensive. You placed a chaste kiss to his middle-finger knuckle.

“Then extend your claw, handsome,” you breathed into his skin.

Logan’s shoulders shuddered, his eyes falling closed as a strained breath floated from his lips. The hand you had stroking along his neck shifted to bury its fingers in his hair. His back arched, his bare chest meeting your sleep shirt.

“Vampire-”

“Extend your claw. I’ll prove that you’ll never hurt me,” you whispered. Your lips trailed across his knuckles while your fingers tangled in the soft strands at the base of his neck. A quiet groan bounced around inside Logan’s chest.

Slowly, reluctantly, his middle adamantium claw slid out of his fist. Moonlight danced along the sharp edge and gave the claw an almost ethereal glow. You turned Logan’s hand, inspecting the claw at all angles, enjoying the reflections it projected on the walls.

“Do you trust me?” you said, repeating yourself. You needed absolute clarity before continuing. Logan nodded as another shudder worked its way over his chest. You ran your eyes over his expression. His eyes were closed, tense, his lips parted slightly. The hand you had in his hair rested on his jaw, fingers buried in his short beard, thumb tracing his bottom lip, “Yes or no, Logan.”

“Yes. Yes, doll, I do,” he replied.

With the affirmation you needed, you shifted your focus back to the threatening claw in front of you. You considered it for a moment. The length, the width, the sharp edge. Squaring your shoulders and steeling your nerves, you brought his hand closer to your face as you parted your lips. 

You ran the blade along the center of your tongue. The bite of cold metal pierced your flesh and stung as it slid along the muscle. You felt blood pool in your mouth, leaking out of the corners of your lips and down your chin.

Logan’s eyes popped open when the scent of your blood filled his nose. He yanked his fist away as his claw disappeared. Both of his palms clung to the sides of your face. You kept your mouth open, smiling, cradling the pooling blood on your tongue.

“What the shit? The hell’s wrong with you, vampire?” Logan exclaimed. Your smile held steady as his expression grew frantic. You watched Logan’s face closely as you enacted your plan. 

Your blood began to float out of your mouth in small beads, tiny planets chasing each other, flying from your tongue and into the air around you, forming a ring circling your head. Once you’d cleared most of the blood, you focused on closing the wound. You felt the flesh knit itself back together inch by inch, wound stitching itself closed. When the last bit of leaking blood had exited your mouth, your tongue fully healed, you closed your smile and let the droplets orbit your head.

“You won’t hurt me, Logan. No more than others have in the past,” you said. Logan’s expression remained unchanged, still eyeing you like you were fucking insane, hands clutched to both sides of your face. You stuck your tongue out again. “See? No harm done.”

“You… You can heal?” he asked. His thumb glided across your face to run along your bottom lip. You let your mouth fall open so he could see the absence of blood. He scoffed, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not nearly as strong as yours. I can heal surface level stuff on anyone, not just me. Blood manipulation and all,” you explained. A fond smile remained settled across your face. You willed the blood floating around you to soar through the air in a stream, like crimson ribbons braiding and weaving into each other, before directing it into an empty glass on the nightstand.

Logan looked like you had told him the wildest theory about the moon landing imaginable. Eyebrows raised to his widow’s peak, nose scrunched, lips parted, eyes wide. It would have been amusing, laughable even, if it wasn’t such a tense moment.

Without warning his mouth was on yours, fingers tangled in your hair, arms shoving your chest against his. His hips rocked up against yours and you felt just how hard this conversation had made him. You gasped into his mouth when he tugged at the base of your neck.

“All this time,” he murmured. One of his hands left your hair and tugged up the hem of your t-shirt. His teeth trailed from your lips, to your jaw, to the soft skin at the crook of your neck, “All this fuckin’ time. I was worried I’d hurt you. That I’d wake up and skewer you like I did Rogue.”

A choked moan escaped your lips when his hand squeezed at your breast. Rough and calloused and almost mean. Logan’s sharp canines nicked the skin above the artery that ran beneath your ear. You whined as blood leaked from the new wound.

“But you? You’re just full of fucking surprises, aren’t you?” he said. He licked a broad swipe across the blood streaming down your throat. You ground down into his cock, the heat between your thighs seeking as much friction as possible. Both of you moaned as the deep liquid coated Logan’s mouth. 

“We’ve got-shit, plenty of time to find them all,” you said through a breathless grin. The fingers in your hair tightened and tugged your head back, baring your throat as Logan lapped at your neck, staining it red. 

You continued to grind into him while your hands gripped his forearms. Your nails dug into his skin, pinpricks of red sprouting around the crescent shapes. You brought a finger up to your mouth and licked along the tip of the nail. An explosion of copper coated your freshly healed tongue. A taste like none you’d ever had before, like a long-aged wine that’d just been opened. 

You needed to have more.

The knife you kept on your nightstand, the pommel a glass ball filled with your blood, swished through the air and landed in your open palm. Your other hand carded through Logan’s hair in an attempt to get his attention.

“Can I cut you?” you breathed. A feral grin spread across Logan’s face. His claw shinked back out of his fist and slashed down your shirt. The cotton separated like butter under a hot knife, your shirt sagging down your shoulders and falling away from your chest. A thin cut was left between your breasts. Like a red clay path between two rolling hills. 

“As long as I can cut you,” he replied, tongue tracing the new wound. Your head fell back as you arched into his mouth, doing your best to focus on closing the bite in your neck. Getting the skin to connect was growing more difficult as Logan coated his tongue in red and his half-lidded eyes met yours.

“Fuck, okay, I’ll take that as a yes,” you said through gritted teeth. You shrugged off your destroyed t-shirt as you felt the cut on your neck close. Your left hand tugged at Logan’s hair, bringing his lips back to yours, bare chests colliding. 

The air between you grew heated and humid. Teeth clashed, tongues darted into each other’s mouths tasting of copper and sin, claws and nails and blade slicing through skin, fingers pulling on hair. Each wound that closed was replaced with a fresh one, tongue and lips following the lines of leaking blood. If you were normal both of you would be covered in more scars than one could count. But, because you were mutants, the skin sealed as if nothing had ever pierced it. Smooth and soft and absolutely covered in blood.

You felt the room spin as you and Logan flipped. He had one hand on your shoulder, pinning your torso to the bed, while the other wrapped around your throat. His broad, warm hand nearly encompassed your whole neck. The power he held over you stoked the flames in your abdomen to burn away at your sense and reason.

His mouth was back on yours, drinking from you like a dying man. Teeth nipped at your lips, your tongue, your chin. Sharp bites that left the taste of copper in their wake. The hand on your shoulder traveled down your overheated body. Passing over swathes of skin painted red and bruises long since dissipated. His fingertips brushed along the waistband of your shorts and a growl reverberated from his throat.

“You have three seconds to get these off before they’re ripped off,” Logan said, the words echoing in your mind like a prayer in an empty chapel.

You had never stripped yourself so fast in your life. Your fumbling hands slipped beneath your waistband, having to concentrate on both getting naked and Logan’s mouth on yours, and you slipped both your panties and your shorts off in one pull. You kicked them off the bed in record time.

“Mm, that was five seconds. I’ll need to see to that later,” he said, kissing down your jaw between growled words. A shiver rolled across your spine at the way his voice thrummed against your neck. You felt the hand gripping your throat tighten, restricting your breathing, making you gasp. Your hands launched forward, seeking anything to grab in their path, landing on the forearm choking you. Logan nipped your collarbone as he said, “Don’t be surprised to see those shorts in shreds tomorrow.”

He loosened his grip slightly, letting warm air back into your heaving lungs. You felt your pulse rushing in your ears.

“Logan, please,” you whimpered. The heat between your legs was unbearable. Wave after wave of arousal slammed into your trembling body and left you breathless. Your thighs were definitely soaked. You could feel wetness dripping off your skin and onto the sheets below you. Logan bit harder at your lowest rib, making you cry out, “Please! I need you. Please, Logan.”

“I’ve got you, hotstuff. Don’t worry,” he purred. His canines dragged along your stomach, leaving fire in their wake, as he shifted lower on your body. The hand gripping your throat slid down your chest and pinned your hips in place, arm slung across your stomach like a lead pipe. His free hand massaged and groped at your shaking thighs. He looked up at you through his eyelashes, grinning, “So polite, how can I refuse?”

The first pass of his tongue through your cunt made your back bow off the bed. Your hands scrabbled against the soaked sheets, nonsense and cries of ecstasy escaping through your kiss-swollen lips.

A low groan passed through his throat and vibrated against your clit. Your eyes rolled back in your head at the shocks of pure pleasure zipping through your bloodstream.

“Fuck, sugar. All this just for me, huh?” he murmured. You weren’t entirely sure if it was meant for you, but before you could decide he buried his face in your cunt. Tongue spearing inside you, nose bumping against your clit, large fingers holding you open. The air inside your lungs shot out of you like a bullet. 

If your mind had any sense left, the sounds you and Logan were making would’ve been obscene. The wet squelching of him licking at your folds, his rough grunts, your breathless moans and airy whimpers. It would’ve made you embarrassed to ever show your face outside of this room again. But with Logan between your thighs and his arm braced across your abdomen, you could hardly care. 

He shifted so his lips could wrap around your clit, sucking and running the blunt edge of his teeth over where you’re most sensitive. A startled yelp kicked out of your mouth. Your hands flew to his hair and tangled in the damp strands. You felt his fingers run along your entrance, gathering slick along the calloused pads.

“You want me inside you, doll?” he asked huskily, sounding almost as wrecked as you felt. It took all your willpower to lift your eyelids and meet Logan’s eyes. 

“Please. Please, please, I need you Logan,” you slurred. Your grip on his hair tightened in an attempt to emphasize your point. 

He latched back onto your clit, eyes still locked with yours, as two fingers pushed inside you. The digits entered you with almost no resistance, you were so soaked. A loud moan fell from your lips as the accompanying noise from your cunt made you feel fucking filthy.

“Fuck, doll,” he grunted against your clit. He started pumping his fingers inside you, slow at first, letting you feel every ridge and knuckle glide in and out, making sure to brush against that spot inside you that made you see stars every time. Your thighs involuntarily clenched around his head. Your head flew back against the mattress beneath you, breath leaving your gaped mouth in quick bursts.

When his pace increased, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. That coil in your core was tightening at a speed that even Peter couldn’t compete with. Your fingers scraped at Logan’s scalp, breathing seeming to be a thing of the past.

“Come for me, vampire,” he said, slipping a third finger inside you. The claws attached to the arm across your waist extended, piercing into the mattress and securing you further on the bed. If Logan wasn’t who he was, you’d be afraid of hurting him from how tight your thighs were squeezed around his head. But that chrome dome was nowhere near perturbed as he shoved you into your first orgasm of the night.

Sparks of white hot electricity short-circuited your brain and rendered you breathless. Your back seized up and arched off the bed, mouth flying open, breath halted inside frozen lungs. Pulsing, neverending, world-encompassing pleasure covered you like a thick, electrified blanket. Zaps of shityesgood sparked across your skin, burrowing deep into your flesh and filling your veins.

“There ya go, that’s a good girl,” Logan said. You barely registered him, the roaring in your ears was so loud. He continued to finger you through your orgasm, placing the occasional kiss on your hyper-sensitive skin, making you jolt.

It took several minutes for the aftershocks to stop, for the blanket to lift off your body. Logan slid his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips. Low groans brought you back to reality as he licked your slick off his fingers.

His claws retracted as he climbed back up your body, placing sloppy wet kisses as he went. You hummed when his lips found yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue, tangy and salty and distinctly you. Mixed with Logan’s smoke and whiskey, you felt like you could breathe this taste and grow intoxicated. You whined as Logan pulled back.

“Ready for more?” he asked. You nodded, biting your lip as a smile graced your features.

Logan grinned back as he hiked your legs up onto his hips and positioned himself by your entrance, cock hard and heavy in his hand. Your hands laced in his hair and yanked his mouth back to yours. The wet, hot tip of his cock glided through your folds, making both of you groan into each other’s mouths.

The first push inside stretched you almost to the point of pain, but you were so wet and needy you hardly cared. Your breathing grew ragged, panting into Logan’s open mouth, as he slid inside you. Every vein along his cock dragged against your walls, making you whine and cant beneath him. 

When he was buried to the hilt inside you, hips connected with your thighs, he braced one hand above you while the other held your leg on his hip. It seemed to take all of his willpower to open his eyes and look down at you.

“Shit, you feel good. Doin’ alright?” he groaned. You nodded a frantic yes, gripping his hair tighter and touching his forehead to yours.

“Logan please fuck me, please, please,” you whispered. You were barely cognizant. Just a body made of an animalistic need. A pure, feral, unadulterated need that only Logan could satisfy.

Logan chuckled, “When you ask like that, doll, how could I say no?”

The slow drag out of you made you grieve the loss of feeling completely full. Your nails dug into Logan’s scalp as whiny moans passed through your clenched teeth. He whispered reassurance into your skin as he pushed back inside, a smooth glide all the way in. He tried to set a slow pace, tried to give you time to adjust. But the pleas spilling from your lips and the grip of your thighs around his hips gave him the last shove he needed.

Quick, wet slaps bounced around the room as he rammed into you, over and over and over again. Pounding into you so hard you swore you could feel him in your throat and that if you weren’t mutant, you would break. High moans met choked grunts in the air between you. The bed’s wooden headboard slammed into the wall behind you in pace with Logan’s thrusts. 

And just like that his teeth were on you again. Biting and scraping and marking, drawing blood just for it to disappear under his tongue. Your shoulders, your collarbone, your breasts, your neck. None were left unmarked. And they remained ravaged, your mind too fractured by his relentless fucking to focus on healing yourself. 

“Fuck, vampire,” he moaned against your skin. His eyes were glassy, distant. Like his entire mind was devoted to filling you to the brim over and over again. The hand braced above your head grabbed the back of your neck, lifting your head so his lips could crash into yours. You were a mess of teeth and tongues and blood. Mindless, breathless moans swallowed between you.

You could feel that coil again. It tightened tauntingly at each thrust, each pound into you that drove you further into insanity. Flames of pure need licked and burned along your skin, only satisfied when Logan was filling you to the brim. Jesus, if you couldn’t feel every thrust rattle your teeth and send you further into oblivion.

Logan adjusted above you, nearly folding you in half as both his hands landed next to you on the bed. Like this, every thrust hit that spot inside you. Splitting you open to leave nothing but a moaning mess behind. 

He groaned above you, teeth gritted, and his claws shot out of his fists. The sound of fabric tearing filled your roaring ears. Deep gauges left in the mattress on either side of your head. Threatening, terrifying even. But to your fuck-drunk mind it only turned you on more. The unquenchable furnace burning in your core flamed into a blazing inferno. Your fingers scraped along his skin, searching mindlessly for something to ground you.

Another groan from Logan, reverberating from deep in his chest, as his forehead touched yours again. A spot of gentleness in the undeniably brutal way he was fucking you.

“I’m-Fuck!-I’m getting real close, doll,” he grunted, his pace never slowing or lessening in its ferocity. He unburied his hand from the bed, retracting his claws, and lowered it between your bodies to rub circles into your swollen clit.

“Ah! Fuck, Logan!” you yelped. You could feel yourself hurtling toward your inescapable second orgasm. Your eyes, unfocused as they were, tried to zero in on Logan above you. You felt like you were caught beneath a launching rocket, being blasted by the flames from the metal beast above you.

One, two, three more thrusts and then you were gone. Ecstasy poured into your veins like ink in water, drowning all you were, all you knew, all you felt. Eyes clouding over with swirling spots of black and white, the inferno in your core overtaking you like a forest fire. All you were was burned away, flames inhaling your body and mind, until all that was left was a mewling, breathless, writhing person that didn’t feel like yourself. 

Logan wasn’t too far behind you. The relentless pounding inside you grew ragged, sloppy, his fingers tangling in your hair to let him breathe the same air as you. A sharp groan echoed from his chest as his thrusts stilled, spilling inside you. Hands gripped at the soft flesh on your hips, pinning you against him, prolonging his orgasm.

You felt weightless, like you were floating on the destroyed bed below you and the only thing keeping you grounded was Logan on top of you. Lazy, trembling fingers traced the veins on his forearms, still clutched to your sides. Your hazy vision focused on his face. Blissed out, eyes closed, chest heaving. You felt a lopsided grin stretch across your swollen lips.

“Told you, ya won’t hurt me,” you rasped. You must have screamed at some point, because your throat was scratchy and sore. Not that you minded.

Logan let out a breathless chuckle above you. His fingers massaged soothing circles into your hips as his eyes opened, gaze landing on your post-orgasmic smirk.

He cleared his throat then said, “You sure? I got pretty rough.”

Your eyes fell closed as you used the remaining fragments of your mind to close the wounds across your neck and chest, willing the skin to seal and the bruises to flush away. Once you were satisfied you opened your eyes again.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you said, grinning. Logan shook his head, matching your grin, as he slid out of you. An involuntary whine slipped up your throat at the loss of him inside you. The loss was quickly remedied by him laying down beside you, wrapping you in his arms and tucking you against his chest. You settled in, nestling your cheek against his damp skin, while he hummed above you.

“I know you can, but I’m not so sure about the sheets.”

Embarrassment flooded your cheeks as you observed the carnage around you. The once (somewhat) pristine, light blue sheets were absolutely covered in blood, loose threads, and other results of what the two of you had just done. Not to mention the holes in the mattress that could no way in hell be fixed.

You let out a sigh as your hand covered your eyes, face flushed. Logan smirked and kissed the top of your head.

“We’ll get ‘em replaced, doll. Don’t worry about it,” he said, amusement at your situation laced in every word.

However, the two of you froze in response to the words that filled your heads, the disappointment palpable and tone icy.

“It’ll come out of your wallets.”

i'd like to thank @madschiavelique and @gracethyomen for encouraging my obsession with logan. much love to them both and the rest of the murdock tuna team 🐟

Want to be on the taglist? Fill out this form!

[suzannahnatters]

Let's talk about what IMO The Rings of Power gets RIGHT about Galadriel as an interpretation of Tolkien & a female character.

I think Galadriel is an inspired choice for a major protagonist of the series. Audiences already know her, yes. But she's also a perfect choice if you're wanting to make a Tolkien fantasy fanfic in the 21st century - which does expect prominent female characters (thank goodness).

This is because Tolkien's Galadriel contains multitudes. The important thing to know about Galadriel is that she was at different times in the legendarium's creation BOTH a rebellious mess AND a wise queen.

It was only towards the end of his life, when Tolkien began to see Galadriel as an analogous figure in his world to the Virgin Mary, that he began to remove the traces of rebelliousness from her backstory. But originally she was up to her neck in a little event called "the Kinslaying."

The version of Galadriel we see in THE LORD OF THE RINGS is one who has been specifically banished from Valinor for her part in rebelling against the Valar in order to go to Middle Earth. She sings a whole song about how sad she is she's never been allowed to go back:

I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew: Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew. Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea, And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree. Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone, In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion. There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching years, While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears. O Lórien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day; The leaves are falling in the stream, the river flows away. O Lórien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor. But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me, What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?

By the end of LOTR, that exile sentence has been revoked, probably in part because she resisted the temptation of the Ring when Frodo offered it. What we're seeing through Frodo's uncomprehending eyes in THE MIRROR OF GALADRIEL is the end of a REALLY REALLY long character arc.

In Tolkien's published work, Galadriel the wise queen wasn't born, she was made over many centuries of rebellion, temptation, and struggle. She had to learn.

Until Tolkien changed her. A flat arc is also valid, of course. But, for this character, the change arc is equally valid.

In TROP, beginning with a younger, more rebellious Galadriel seems to be a clear artistic decision to follow a change arc. I LOVE, BTW, that in the first ep we see her both in armour AND in beautiful dresses. This character is not going to fit easily into boxes.

Just like she does in Tolkien, TROP Galadriel contains the potential both to be Nerwen, the "man-maiden" and Galadriel the wise queen. TROP Galadriel doesn't seem to be under a sentence of exile, but she DOES start the series with a stated inner struggle.

I'm not going to spoil it for you, but I'm so excited to see where this goes. This is a young, angry, sword wielding Galadriel who is clearly at the start of what could be an epic character arc that refuses to put its protagonist into a tidy little tradwife/rebel binary.

[116t98]

My Heartsteel Headcanons

(Except they’re real things real kpop idols really did)

The guys solve all their problems/make all their decisions by playing rock, paper, scissors. Ezreal always loses

Except for that one time when he didn’t, and he literally got down on his knees and thanked God for him finally not losing

(Yone was the one who lost that time, btw)

Kayn ripped his pants in the middle of a televised performance

While playing charades, the others try (and fail) to make Yone guess “luggage”. A few minutes later, he’s only able to guess the word after Sett (with Aphelios’s help) pretends to be a luggage bag

Kayn can play “Mary Had a little Lamb” on the recorder with his nose. Yone asked if he could play something else, which promoted him to immediately play “My Heart Will Go On”

Ezreal told their fans during a live concert performance that he used to have a really nice jacket that he wore for some performances… until one of his stylists accidentally left it on a lighting device

Long story short, his Gucci burned

Sett cries at the end of every concert

A fan once left a comment during an Instagram live that read “I’m crying in the club”, and Yone immediately responded with “you’re in the club?”

Aphelios can perfectly forge all of his bandmates’s signatures; he’s signed Heartsteel memorabilia with everyone’s signatures before, without anyone else knowing

Ezreal yelled at Sett on TV for wearing insoles in his shoes even though he’s already tall

They like to play games during their concerts, like limbo and “who can unravel a roll of toilet paper the fastest?” (it’s K’sante, but Sett’s a close second)

When he first debuted, Ezreal promoted himself by passing out mints to strangers and asking them to listen to his song

Yone wasn’t able to join the others for a live stream once, so they called him to chat for a bit. Aphelios thought it be funny to hang up on Yone as soon as he answered the phone

He was right

Kayn once showed up to the airport wearing a dog head mask

During an encore performance, the guys decided to have a push up contest while they sang

(Sett swears he won, but everyone else begs to differ)

K’sante once mentioned during a TV interview that Kayn didn’t want to watch a movie with him bc he “doesn’t like watching movies”, which got Kayn (who didn’t want to look bad in front of any movie producers who were potentially watching) so worked up, he threw a pen at the table they were seated at… which bounced right into Yone’s eye

While he was promoting his debut song, Ezreal’s brightly colored stage outfits became a meme after he compared them to different kinds of Listerine online. The meme gained so much traction, Listerine actually sent him boxfuls of mouthwash and a customized cake decorated with some fondant Listerine bottles and a sugar doll version of himself on top

The guys tease Alune a lot. Like, a lot. Sett even once jokingly asked their fans to help them set Alune up on a date bc “she’s always solo” and “it’s so sad 🥺” (pray for her u guys)

K’sante accidentally knocked the head off of a department store mannequin

After watching one of their performances, the CEO of their record label complimented the group members individually, telling them things like “your voice is good”, “you look great”, “keep it up”, etc. But, according to Kayn, the CEO only told him: “your forehead’s wide, so you’ll succeed” (wtf does that even mean??)

Kayn and Ezreal had a Twitter war where they enlisted the help of their fans to Photoshop dumb memes of the other using whatever unflattering images of themselves could be found online

Sett has a habit of napping wherever he can. The guys take advantage of the opportunity by taking pictures of themselves posing around him while he’s asleep; some favorites include K’sante standing above him to recreate “The Creation of Adam”, Aphelios putting q-tips on his mouth, and Ezreal stacking random things on his chest

For his birthday, K’sante was surprised with a birthday cake at the end of their concert. As soon as he blew out the candles, the guys shoved him face-first into the cake. He then proceeded to chase them all down, lobbing chunks of the remaining cake at them

An interviewer once said “Ezreal’s not big” (referring to his height). Ezreal responded by saying, “how do you know I’m not big? 😏” (not referring to his height)

Aphelios choked on his water when he heard Ezreal tell a different interviewer “I’m an innocent boy” (he absolutely isn’t). As he choked, Sett told him to “watch out, babe”

Ezreal told Ernest to leave the frame of a video they were filming, but he spoke the command in Korean (I hc that he’s trilingual). When Ernest actually obeys the command, Kayn asks, in the most incredulous way ever, “your dog speaks Korean??”

*Sett promoting their music to random strangers*: “You want to be happy? Buy the CD! From Riot, listen in your MP3! You are not you and I am not me, bc we are one big family! 😁”

The guys once left Sett and K’sante behind at a gas station at night

Aphelios wrote Ezreal a heartfelt letter, written in Hangul, that he requested to be read during a live performance. Ezreal read the letter out loud; it started out well, until he realized that he recognized the words

He’d know the lyrics to the Sailor Moon theme song anywhere

[agaypanic]

The Fella Part 10 (James Maguire X Quinn!Reader)

The Fella Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: A family occasion takes a turn for a worse when Mary tells her aunt Bridie to drop dead, which she takes seriously. At her wake, Michelle has the bright idea to bring laced scones, which are taken and distributed among the guests.

A/N: credits to @crumpets-are-better-with-jam for writing out the script of the episode for me :)) btw just a warning, it gets a bit heated a little towards the end, but not too much i think. Also talks of drugs bc duh

***

It was becoming a bit difficult to keep up with who knew about Y/n and James’ relationship and who didn’t. Y/n’s sister Erin knew that she fancied James, but wasn’t updated on the fact that they had been dating for over three months now. Clare knew that the pair were going out after catching them kissing at the Take That concert a few weeks ago. But the rest of the group and the teens’ families were none the wiser.

Except for Y/n’s father, Gerry.

One night, everyone was hanging around the Quinn household. There were movies, loads of chatting, and some dinner. But with so many people in the house, it was hard to have even a moment alone with James. So, while everyone argued over what to put on next, Y/n snuck out to the front room, boyfriend close behind.

“I thought we weren’t gonna try to keep things a secret,” James said as he leaned against the wall, Y/n tucked into his side and holding his hand.

“I know Jamie. But with situations like this, I think it’s better to sneak away. I mean, imagine the shock that would come to Mammy, Granda, or Michelle if any of ’em found out.”

“Yeah…” James sighed, realizing Y/n was right.

“Now imagine if all three of them found out at the same time.” Y/n laughed at the idea while James’ eyes widened in horror. “Besides, wanting a moment to ourselves isn’t all bad, right?” She asked, looking up at the boy.

“Right.” He mirrored her soft smile before leaning down to catch her lips in a kiss that was eagerly returned. 

So eager that the two didn’t hear the door open.

“You’re lucky it’s me catching you two instead of your mother,” Gerry spoke, startling Y/n and James, who jumped apart. He felt a bit awkward catching his daughter kissing her boyfriend, but he didn’t look too surprised that she had a boyfriend in the first place.

“Da, I can explain.” Y/n tried to go on, but Gerry held up a hand, signaling her to stop.

“I already know.” He said with a smile, hands clasping behind his back. “About you two. Never would’ve if they didn’t decide to film that concert you girls went to.” That new information mortified Y/n and James. But they didn’t have time to fully react, because Gerry continued. “I think the three of us should have a little chat.”

***

The conversation wasn’t as bad as Y/n thought it would’ve been. Gerry was clearly happy and okay with the relationship, just wanting to make sure that they weren’t doing anything too serious. That topic might’ve been the most embarrassing part of the interaction for Y/n.

James, on the other hand, seemed scared shitless the entire time. But Y/n suspected that her father wasn’t so hard on him because of how he was treated by his father-in-law. He probably didn’t want to create some kind of a cycle. Plus, Gerry was pretty fond of James, even before he learned about him and his daughter being an item.

The entire talk played on a loop in Y/n’s head as she sat in church with the rest of her family, waiting for their relative’s wedding to start. Soon enough, the familiar tune of ‘Here Comes The Bride’ started to play, and everyone in the room stood.

“Where do you reckon Aunt Sarah is?” Y/n asked her sister Erin, noticing that a family member was missing from their pew. But her question was soon answered when Sarah entered the room and started walking down the aisle, dressed in white. “Good God.” 

Gasps and murmurs filled the room as Sarah went to stand with her family in the pew, revealing a horrified bride and her father behind her.

“Jesus, but that taxi took forever, so it did.” Sarah sighed. The bride-to-be looked at Sarah, absolutely appalled as she passed by. “Ach, isn’t she gorgeous?”

Mary rolled her eyes and looked up towards the sky as she took a deep breath.

“Give me strength…” She muttered.

***

Y/n was a bit surprised that the Quinn family, mainly her aunt Sarah, was still invited to the reception. But that didn’t stop her from trying to have a good time. She, her sister, and her cousin drank and danced around as they waited for their friends to arrive.

Soon enough, Erin spotted their friends, nudging her sister and cousin to gain their attention. They quickly ran to the venue entrance to meet with the other girls and James.

“Muthafuckas!” Michelle yelled in greetings, arms spread out and grin wide. 

“How’s it been?” Clare asked with a smile.

The sisters and Orla all had different responses, but had the same reaction when Mary snuck up behind the three of them.

“Girls!” The shout startled them, and everyone whipped around to look at her.

“Jesus, Mammy,” Y/n muttered.

“I said you could invite one friend to the reception. One!”

“Mammy, they don’t come separately,” Erin said, rolling her eyes. She thought her mother would’ve learned this after years of friendship.

“We’re like one big set,” Y/n said, gesturing to the group of teenagers.

“Aye, we’re pack animals, Mary,” Michelle said. Mary was about to say something, possibly tell them to leave or further reprimand them, when James spoke.

“I love your hat, Mrs. Quinn.” He said with a smile, eyeing the accessory. Mary smiled, and the girls were surprised to see that her slightly sour mood had seemed to disappear.

“Thanks, son.” She said, giving him a nod before looking at the whole group, a bit more serious. “No wild carry-on. Do you hear me? We’re in enough bother as it is. Best behavior.”

“Completely.” Clare nodded, taking the commands to heart.

“You’ll have no trouble from us, Mary,” Michelle said with an innocent smile, which should be worrying. Mary walked off, and Michelle turned back to the group once she was out of earshot. “Okay, girls, who wants to do drugs?” Y/n snorted at the complete 180, but Michelle was completely serious.

The girls, mainly Michelle and Erin, like always, had a back and forth about the drugs and someone named Macca and so on. Y/n used this moment to turn to James, almost glued to his side at the back of the group as they all walked around the reception party.

“Trying to butter up Mammy, are you?” She asked teasingly, thinking about how James’ little comment completely changed her mother’s sour demeanor.

James laughed a little, throwing his head back, and Y/n couldn’t help but smile stupidly at the boy. He shrugged.

“Well, I figured I might as well start now to try to get on her good side. It’s only a matter of time, I think.” Y/n nodded in agreement.

“We could tell them.” She suggested after a small moment of silence. James perked up, both surprised and delighted by the notion. “I mean, like you said, it’s only a matter of time. And they’d probably prefer hearing it from us over walking in on us doing something.”

James’ cheeks reddened at the sentence. He blinked a few times, his mind clearly drifting off to some kind of thought.

“And by something… you mean like-” Suddenly, the lights dimmed, and music started blasting through the speakers. Y/n lit up in excitement along with the rest of the room, while James looked a bit confused at the commotion that started to happen.

“‘Rock the Boat’! It’s ‘Rock the Boat!” Clare squealed as she recognized the song.

“Happy fuckin’ days!” Michelle said, and the girls ran to the dance floor. Y/n was dragging James behind her, who seemed slightly alarmed by everyone’s intense enthusiasm. 

Everyone sat on the floor in long, giant rows, fighting for space. The girls were able to push their way to the front, synchronously dancing with the rest of the party people. There, the girls continued their drug conversation, with Y/n and James now joining in.

“Look, Michelle,” Clare said to the girl behind her. “Drugs are illegal, drugs are addictive, and perhaps most importantly, in this country, you can lose your kneecaps if you’re caught doing them. And I like my kneecaps, Michelle; they suit my knees.”

“You do have crackin’ kneecaps, Clare.” Orla smiled at the girl, having to leave to the side and turn her head to look at the blonde.

“Is that true?” James asked, lips close to Y/n’s ear.

“What?” Y/n turned around, almost startled by how James was to her face. “Clare’s kneecaps?”

“No. I mean losing your kneecaps.”

“Oh. Clare’s a bit dramatic, Jamie.” The girl turned back around to face ahead. “But she’s a bit right, I think.”

“What?!”

Before any conversations could continue, a dull but loud thud was heard from a corner of the room. Everyone looked to see Aunt Bridie lying on the floor, with the Quinn family looking at Mary in shock.

***

The next few days felt tense at the Quinn household. It was mainly the teenagers being fearful of Mary, because they believed that she was the reason for her Aunt Bridie’s sudden death and didn’t want to be her next victim. The house had never been so clean and tidy.

“I just cannot believe it.” Mary’s tone was almost flat as she stared off into space, clutching her teacup and rarely ever sipping it.

“Listen, Mary,” Sarah said, sitting in the chair beside her. “No matter what you’ve done, you’re still my sister. I’ll stand by you.”

“I haven’t done anything, Sarah.”

“Exactly, love. Everybody knows you didn’t mean to kill the old boot.” Grandpa Joe paused to take a sip of his coffee. “God rest her soul.”

“I didn’t kill her,” Mary responded, immediately tired of the assumption.

“You know what I mean, not kill.” Joe looked around as if he would find the word he was looking for on the wall. “Hex.”

“I didn’t hex her either, Da.” She said defensively. “It was just a very tragic-”

“My mother, she had the gift too, y’know.” Joe interrupted. “By God, that woman could make her enemies drop like flies.”

“Look, I don’t have any gift,” Mary said, letting go of her teacup to lay her hands flat on the table to show finality and seriousness. “There’s no dark forces at play here. I just said somethin’... unfortunate that happened to-”

“Cause her death?” Sarah asked.

“Coincide with her death.” Mary corrected.

Ah, yes. Mary telling her aunt Bridie to drop dead and then her actually doing it was just an unfortunate coincidence. Nothing more, nothing less.

Meanwhile, at the sink, Y/n dried the last dish that Erin washed and handed it to Orla to put away. The three girls had been working as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb Mary. Erin was the first to speak, turning around slowly with a nervous tone.

“Right. Well, that’s the dishes done. Would you like another cup of tea, Mammy?”

As if remembering she even had a cup of tea, Mary looked down at the cup and took a quick sip.

“No, I’m fine.”

“I’ll just grab the Hoover n’give the stairs a bit of a going over.”

“Aye, and I can sweep the hall and such,” Y/n added, trying to remember the last place she had seen the broom. 

“And I’ll maybe do a bit of dusting,” Orla said.

Mary raised an eyebrow, suspicion of the girls pulling her out of her dazed and solemn mood.

“What’s gotten into you all?” She asked. “What’re you up to? What’s going on?”

“Nothin’!” Erin answered, still seeming a bit scared. “We just thought that we should pull our weight a bit more, Mammy.”

“You do so much for us, Aunt Mary.”

“Aye, Mammy, you deserve a bit of a break.”

“I can’t hex people, girls,” Mary said frustratedly. “It was an accident.”

As if on cue, Gerry waltzed into the kitchen and smiled at his wife. He placed a hand on her shoulder as part of a greeting.

“So, how’s the Wicked Witch of the North West?” The question seemed so loving and innocent. Y/n would’ve laughed if Mary hadn’t seemed like she was actually about to murder someone.

“Who put fifty p in the eedgit?” Joe asked, glaring at Gerry. Gerry looked at him confused, wondering what he had done this time.

Mary groaned, dropping her head into her hands.

“God, how am I going to go to this wake?”

“It’ll be grand, love,” Joe said. “But listen, say if things do get heated, try not to rise to it. The last thing we want is another dead body on our hands here.”

Mary stared up at Joe with a blank expression.

“I’ll do my best, Da.”

***

Later that evening, the Quinns and McCools arrived at the wake. Everyone seemed a bit surprised and startled to see Mary, clearly believing the rumors that she had been her Aunt Bridie’s undoing. After a slightly awkward encounter with Eamon, Bridie’s son, the girls escaped everyone by going upstairs to the room that held Bridie herself.

“She really suits bein’ dead, doesn’t she?” Orla said after a good moment of solemn silence, staring down at the woman.

“What?” Erin seemed disturbed by what her cousin had said, but Y/n nodded.

“No, yeah, I agree. I like her better like this.”

“Y/n, she’s dead.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you liked her better living?”

Before Erin could answer, the door to the room opened. The girls turned to see Clare peeking her head through.

“Can we come in?” She asked in a whisper.

“Why are you whispering, Clare?” Y/n asked, tilting her head in confusion. Clare paused, thinking it over.

“I don’t know.”

The rest of the group crowded around Bridie’s casket. Michelle and Clare walked to the end by her feet, and James decided to stand behind Y/n. He rested a hand gently on her shoulder, as if to comfort her, and she raised a hand of her own to lay on his, as if to thank him.

“Thanks for comin’, guys.” Erin sighed, seeming slightly distressed now. “It’s nice to have a bit of support in this very difficult time.” Everyone seemed very confused by the statement. 

“You thought she was a dick,” Michelle said.

“I never said that.”

“You did, Erin,” Orla said.

“I’m pretty sure we all thought she was a dick, but you were the vocal one about it,” Y/n added.

“Aye, I’ve definitely heard you say it,” Clare said.

“Okay, can I just check something?” James asked, clearly focused on something else. The girls looked at him, waiting for him to continue. “Everybody else can see the dead body, right?”

Everyone took a glance at the body in question, trying to figure out what the problem was.

“It’s just Bridie, Jamie,” Y/n said.

“It’s Bridie’s corpse.” The boy corrected. “It’s Bridie’s dead corpse.”

“It’s her wake. What were you expectin’?” Michelle asked, rolling her eyes.

“Haven’t you ever seen a dead body before?” Erin asked.

“Of course not!” James nearly yelled, shocked that Erin would even ask such a question. Michelle scoffed.

“Christ, but the English are weird.”

Orla leaned down close to Bridie, taking her face in her hands and looking up at James. She had that childlike but absentminded wonder in her eyes and smile that she always had.

“You can touch her if you want.”

James flinched, moving his hands to Y/n’s hips as he took a slight step back. As he moved back, he maneuvered Y/n to act as a shield between him and the dead body and Orla. James looked at Orla in disgusted shock.

“Why the hell would I want to touch her?” Y/n snorted at James’ suddenly high-pitched voice.

“It’s nice.” Orla smiled brightly.

“Stop it.”

“It’s just a dead body, James,” Clare said in a comforting tone, trying to get him to calm down. “We’re all gonna be one someday.”

“Oh, thanks for that, Clare!” Horrified, James brought Y/n closer until her back was pressed against his front. It was as if everyone else was some sort of strange or bad energy that could only be warded off by Y/n, and she was happy to go along with it. “Yeah, that’s helped!”

“It’s okay, Jamie,” Y/n said, patting one of the hands gripping her hips. James relaxed just a bit, but was still weary because of how weird this whole situation was to him. “Calm yourself.”

“It really makes you think, doesn’t it?” Michelle said solemnly, staring at Bridie for a second before looking at the girls. “Death.” She sighed dramatically, and everyone immediately wondered what she was up to this time. “It just… just makes you wanna… do everythin’ and just… try everythin’.”

“What’s going on, Michelle?” Clare asked, looking at her suspiciously.

“Yeah, what are you on about?” Y/n eyed the girl with a raised brow. Michelle suddenly seemed excited, a stark contrast to her fake grimness.

“Do you wanna see something’ class?” Michelle then threw her purse, which was, for some reason, big and bulky, onto Bridie’s feet. Someone would’ve reprimanded her for disrespecting the deceased by using Bridie as a table, but they were too busy watching her pull a big Tupperware out of her purse. “Prepare yourself, girls.” She then popped the lid off to show what was inside. She looked at her friends excitedly.

“Scones?” Erin asked, clearly unimpressed.

“That’s right.”

“What’s so class about scones?”

“Scones are lovely.” Orla countered, seeming a bit offended by Erin’s uninterest.

“Aye, I like scones.” Clare nodded.

“No, these aren’t any old scones, girls.” Michelle insisted, shaking her head. “These are funny scones.”

“Funny’s the right word, alright,” Y/n said, reaching for one of the scones in the bin to look at it. As she dropped it back in with the rest, she looked at Michelle with a tilt of her head. “What’s so special about ’em?”

“They’re drug scones!” Clare squeaked, pointing urgently at the food. “She’s put the drugs in the scones!”

“Too fuckin’ right, I have,” Michelle said with a grin. “I wanted to do brownies, but this was the only recipe my ma had, so…”

“I don’t think it’s that hard to find a brownie recipe, Michelle,” Y/n said. 

“I’m not goin’ out of my way to find a brownie recipe, Y/n.”

“We talked about this, Michelle. We agreed.” Clare said, bringing the conversation back to the drugs.

“No, we didn’t,” Michelle argued. “Anyway, drugs aren’t illegal when you put them into food. Everybody knows that.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Michelle,” Y/n said.

“Is that right?” James asked sarcastically, almost glaring with bewilderment at his cousin. “I’m not sure that’s right.”

Just then, the door opened, and everybody froze. An old woman walked in, and the girls quickly recognized her as one of the caterers for the wake.

“Any cups up here?” She asked, walking towards them while looking around. She spotted the tub, and before anyone could stop her, she reached out and grabbed it. “I’ll take that.” The woman said simply before leaving the room.

Everyone stared at where the scones had once been, panic running through them all.

“What the fuck just happened?” Michelle asked the room. Y/n looked at the girl with wide eyes.

“I believe a caterer just took your funny fuckin’ scones to give out at our great Aunt Bridie’s wake, Michelle.”

After another moment of feeling frozen, everyone went downstairs as fast as possible without drawing attention. Defeated and not knowing what to do, the girls sat down on the steps. As they settled, they watched Joe pass by with one of the scones in hand.

“What are we gonna do?” Clare asked frantically.

“It’s fine,” Michelle said shortly. But everyone could tell she was just as panicked as the rest.

“It’s definitely not fine!” Clare hissed. “There’s drug scones down there. People’ll eat the drug scones, then we’ve drugged those people, Michelle.”

“Our granda included.” Y/n butted in, resting her chin on the top of James’ head, who was sitting on one of the steps just below her. “Lord knows what’ll happen to him.”

“So?” Michelle said, clearly worried but trying to seem aloof. “Drugging people isn’t a crime.”

“You’ve a very loose grasp of the law, Michelle,” James said, rubbing at his eyes in disbelief and exhaustion.

“What kind of person brings hash scones to a wake?” Erin asked with a scowl. Michelle scoffed.

“Typical.” She said. “I try to do a nice thing, and this is the thanks I get.”

“A nice thing?” Y/n repeated in disbelief, turning back to look at Michelle. “Oh yeah, how nice. Let’s all get hopped up illegally at a wake. Oh, wait. We can’t, because someone took your stupid scones!”

“It’s terrible,” Clare added, sounding as panicked and scared as usual. “There’s old people down there; what if an old person takes one?”

“Why does everyone get so sentimental about old people?” Michelle asked. “Old people are arseholes.” 

“We’ve got to get ’em back, girls,” Erin said, starting to get scared of the thought of any of her family having a funny scone.

“Look, I’m not disagreeing with you. I bought that stuff so I could get high, not your great Uncle Colm.”

“Oh Christ, I didn’t even think about that,” Y/n muttered. Colm was already a character to begin with; him being high as balls would probably turn him either more boring or unmanageable. Y/n stood up and faced the girls. “Here’s the plan. I’ll head to the kitchen to grab whatever’s left. The rest of you go and find the ones that people have taken and pray that they haven’t taken a bite yet.”

“And remember, girls,” Erin said, standing up with her sister. “Be subtle.” Everyone nodded and split up to do their tasks.

Y/n went to the kitchen and quietly crept to the swinging door. She took a quick look, saw that the few people inside were occupied with different things, and carefully walked in. She was surprised to see her father ranting about cross-contamination and using different bowls. Y/n wondered if he had been roped into helping in the kitchen, but whether he was forced or had volunteered, she smiled at the sight of his sudden passion.

Y/n spotted the scones, about half the amount from the last time she saw them, now plated on a serving platter. While reaching for the plate, the door opened behind her.

“Now listen here, you.” Y/n flinched and turned around quickly, recognizing the voice to be her granda Joe. But he wasn’t looking at her. As usual, he directed his pointed look to Gerry, who looked at his father-in-law, both confused and annoyed.

“Yes, Joe?”

“I just wanna say…” Joe trailed off, getting closer to Gerry and putting a hand on his shoulder. Gerry and Y/n looked at the old man in bewilderment when he laughed. “I think you’re doing a fine job.” Then he patted Gerry’s cheek before turning around and walking out of the kitchen. “Keep up the good work.”

Gerry and Y/n turned their shocked stares to each other once Joe was out of the room. The only thing that broke their eye contact was a timer going off, which somehow snapped Gerry back into his working mode. Using the opportunity of her dad’s distractedness, Y/n swiped the platter and walked out.

The girl soon realized that she and her friends never agreed on a place to meet after retrieving the scones. But not wanting anyone to see her wander around with a platter of scones, she snuck back upstairs, where she was surprised to see James slowly wandering the hallway.

“Hey,” Y/n said with relief, glad it was him instead of a stranger. Or worse, her mother.

“Hey.” He smiled at her, holding up a scone as he walked closer to her. “Found your uncle Colm with this.” He sat the scone on top of the others.

“Thank God you got it before he took a bite.” Y/n laughed lightly, James joining in. “Were you just waiting for someone to come up?”

“Yeah, I thought being up here would be better than wandering around where everyone else was.”

“Smart.” Y/n nodded once, looking around the empty hall. “What do you suppose we do about all of these?”

The two thought for a moment, racking their brains for an idea. James suddenly snapped his fingers.

“Remember when you snuck over to mine that one night, and we watched Goodfellas?”

“Aye, Ray Liotta was a dream, wasn’t he?”

“Sure.” James rolled his eyes at the comment. “But do you remember how Karen got rid of the drugs?”

Y/n took a quick second to think about whether or not she did, in fact, remember. The most memorable things of the night she snuck over to James’ were Ray Liotta, the snacks James had snuck up to his room, and kissing each other to keep loud talking or laughs from gaining the attention of the rest of the household.

“You think it’ll work?” Y/n asked once she remembered what James was talking about. “I mean, these are scones.”

“What other options do we have?” James asked. And to be honest, Y/n couldn’t think of any.

The sound of a knob turning startled the two teens. They scrambled to hide the stolen platter of scones behind them just before the bathroom door a bit down the hall opened up. A middle-aged woman that Y/n barely recognized walked out, and Y/n and James smiled politely at her as she passed.

Once she was down the stairs, James and Y/n ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind them.

“Let’s just wait for the others here,” Y/n said, balancing the platter on the sink so she wouldn’t have to hold it any longer. “So… what d’ya wanna do?”

It took a few seconds of silence before Y/n and James rushed at each other, quickly becoming a mess of tangled limbs and clashing lips. The couple rarely had time alone for things like this, the heat of the moment always being ignored because of the fear of being caught. But with a locked door, a few minutes of making out couldn’t do much harm.

Y/n’s hands buried themselves into James’ curls, tugging at them as he backed her into the wall next to the door. A hand cupped the back of her neck while the other stayed gripped on her waist, keeping her in place. Not that she’d want to leave.

James’ lips strayed away from Y/n’s, leaving featherlight kisses across her cheek and jaw before settling on her neck. The hand on Y/n’s neck pulled back her hair, giving James the access he needed to nip and suck lightly at the sensitive skin just below Y/n’s ear.

“Are you marking me?” She asked, breath hitching. She wasn’t opposing the matter, far from it, really. But she was a bit surprised to have this kind of behavior coming from James.

“Just a bit.” He replied breathlessly, kissing the slightly sore spot before returning to Y/n’s lips. “For a bit of fun, y’know?” Y/n giggled. She was lucky that she could probably hide the soon-to-be mark by keeping her hair down.

“Sure, just a bit of fun.” She replied, pecking James’ lips a few times.

The two were able to get themselves straightened out just before the rest of the girls found them. They closed the door behind them, and James caught them all up on the plan.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Michelle sighed as she and the rest of the group broke apart the scones and dropped the crumbled bits into the toilet. “It’s fuckin’ heartbreaking.”

“Believe me, Michelle, it’s better this way,” Y/n said, grabbing another laced scone. “Granda’s had one, and now he’s acting, like, really fuckin’ weird.”

“You’re being paranoid.”

“He was nice to Daddy.” The group made noises of shock and disbelief. “Exactly. And if Mammy starts asking questions…”

“You’re Ma won’t trace it back to us.”

“Are you serious?” Erin asked Michelle. “She traces everything back to us. She traces things we haven’t even done back to us!”

“Are you sure this’ll work?” Clare asked James.

“This is how you get rid of drugs, Clare.” He said confidently, as if this wasn’t the first time he’s had to do this. “I’ve seen Goodfellas, like, twenty times.”

“Aye, good movie,” Y/n commented as she brushed her hands on her jeans to get rid of the crumbs that stuck to her nervously sweaty palms. 

“That’s not the only way.” Orla countered. “I watched this film once about this girl who was tryin’ to hide drugs, and what she did was she shoved them right up her—”

“I’m not sticking a scone up my hole, Orla.” Michelle hissed. Orla shrugged, raising her hands in defense.

Once everyone was done breaking down the scones, Clare sighed, seeming as nervous and panicked as always.

“Okay, I’m gonna flush.” She did so, and everyone watched as not much happened. “Is it working?”

“‘Course it’s working,” James said, still sure of his plan.

But then the water started to rise, and everyone started to panic.

“Jesus Christ!” Erin yelped in a high-pitched voice. “Why is the water rising, James?”

“I don’t know! The water didn’t rise in Goodfellas!”

“We’ve clogged it.”

“Who has a plunger?” Orla asked, seeming to be the most calm of the group.

“I’m afraid I left the house without me plunger tonight, Orla,” Erin replied, clearly sarcastic. 

“Aye, me too,” Orla replied seriously. “Nightmare, so it is.”

The toilet started flooding faster, and the girls scrambled around in a panic. Scone water was beginning to spill onto the floor, and everyone had to stop themselves from gagging as they tried to find a way to clean it up. This situation couldn’t possibly get any worse.

“Dear God…” Everyone whipped around to see the adults of the Quinn and McCool families, plus Bridie’s son, Eamon. Erin laughed nervously, deciding to be the one to find an excuse.

“It looks worse than it is.” Was all she said, which really wasn’t much of an excuse.

“My mother was right about you people,” Eamon said, horrified and angry. “Wild animals have more manners.”

“We didn’t have a plunger, Eamon!” Orla shouted.

“Get out!” He yelled. “Get out!”

The teens did so gladly, running out of the bathroom and out of the house. They gathered on the front lawn, and they couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the evening. But they still feared what would happen when Mary walked out.

“The night wasn’t all that bad, I think,” James said quietly, only Y/n being able to hear him. She looked up at him curiously.

“How so?”

Instead of speaking, he raised his hand to cup her neck, gently tapping where he had bruised her. She gasped, pushing his hand away before the two of them fell into laughter, not caring about the confused looks their friends gave them.

“I’ll see you Monday, then?” He asked when they had calmed down a bit. Y/n caught a glimpse of her mother leaving the house before she answered.

“If I live that long.”

~~~

TAG LIST: @mistahjsfunnygirl @etherealdisneyvillainness @crystalsoobin-m @raggedyoldwitch @rosetintworld @regretthatsme @neenieweenie @allexiiisss @drmeghanjones @eli-com @anything-for-our-moony-toast @ilovespideyyy @eddisaurus @imagines--galore @imastabu @emma-is-a-nerd @sir1usblacksgf @kaz-2y567 @ventingtostrangersontheinterwebs @spidercrush3 @humanoid-freak14 @miilkshakess @underthebatcape @dear-jamespotter @brithedemonspawn @crumpets-are-better-with-jam @acupnoodle @nevillescomslut @hantivity @slaymybreathaway @mystic-writings @thegirlwithoutaname87 @mystic-mara

SEND ME AN ASK OR COMMENT IF YOU"D LIKE TO BE ADDED OR REMOVED FROM THE TAG LIST!

[11queensupreme11]

Girrlll this line😭😭😭😭😭

“He turned to her, his golden eyes smoldering. "What sort of woman chooses a MORTAL over a GOD?!"”

I HAVE to to know how Apollo would react to learning that Percy’s mom, a human, essentially choose a human man over Poseidon😂😂😂

And a life of “poverty” over the underwater castle lifestyle Poseidon offered?!

lol I can just image his face rn!

Great chapter btw!!!!

TO BE FAIR....

it was a wise ass move cuz literally NOTHING good happens to mortals who stick close to a god, let alone accept their gifts/offers 😭😭

hades constantly stuck around maria and their kids? BOOM (literally, lol) maria got blown up and hades lost his shit and cursed the oracle which led to a whole other mess(es) 💀

pluto swore on the river styx to give marie anything she wanted and she asked for all the riches of the underworld and BOOM she got a cursed daughter (hazel 🥺) with years of childhood trauma who accidentally revived gaia's son, alcyoneus, which eventually led to BOTH of their deaths (and more messes) 💀

beryl grace got obsessed with the attention from zeus/jupiter and craved for more? BOOM she's dead from a drunken car crash with one kid a tree and another one raised by wolves 💀

hermes always coming by to visit may and luke? BOOM may went crazy, luke started a revolution, and hermes now has years of depression to unpack because he tried desperately to change luke's fate despite knowing it was pointless 💀

sally jackson fucked poseidon, got a kid out of it and that was it. she was spared from any horrible terror that the other mortals went through (thank gods for that). can you imagine if she had actually accepted that offer???? with zeus' stupid "gods can't interact with their mortal children" rule AND his burning hate-boner for poseidon (and eventually percy) AND with percy being a forbidden kid destined to have a shitty life because she's the product of a broken vow AND the fact that she decided to stay close to a god AND accept his gift/offering AND there's the fact that poseidon would've done ANYTHING to try and save them from any bad fate (and fail just like hermes)???? oh the fates would've cooked up a HORRIBLE ending for her and percy 😭😭

literally i think every single character that stuck too close to a god or accepted their gifts/offering got a tragic end or one of the most traumatizing backstory ever or at least horribly affected someone close to them (like their kids), meanwhile the worst percy had to deal with was bullying in school and some level of physical abuse from gabe before The Plot happened 😭😭

the ror gods would definitely give sally jackson shit for daring to reject a god (and even chose a human over one), but that's the thing: they're gods, arrogant and cruel. most of them wouldn't understand the depth of tragedy that they cause (or care)

smarter and more empathetic gods like hestia, buddha, sun wukong, etc. would notice the subtle details and realize that sally jackson made a VERY smart move because holy shit, everything SUCKS for any mortal who gets too close to a god in that universe💀💀💀

honestly, because most of the greek myths are just fanfics in ror verse, the whole "tragedy is a part of the greeks" isn't really the same for the ror!greeks, only the pjo!greeks because those tragedies were REAL for them, and some are even repeated. so most of the ror gods wouldn't get just how TRAGIC things are for those in the pjo universe, at least not right away 😭

(also, i'm starting to see why zeus made the whole "no interacting with ur kids" rule because DAMN terrible shit keeps happening whenever they do it too much and get attached 💀💀💀)

[zegrasdrysdale]

jamie and reader looking through baby names :((

[ what’s in a name ] j. drysdale

paring : Jamie Drysdale x fem!reader

summary : Jamie and his girlfriend try to find the perfect baby name

warning(s) : none really

author’s note : this is very dialogue heavy btw. it’s very conversation based. also kinda short oops

༺═──────────────═༻

Baby Drysdale is due in a month and they still don’t have a name. The nursery in their new house is Voorhees got done before they found a baby name.

There was a time where she knew what she wanted her baby's name to be. She was also ten. Now she’s an adult and is in charge of naming an actual human being.

Today is the day though. She and Jamie are going to sit down and pick out their baby’s name. Baby Drysdale will have a name before coming into the world if it’s the last thing they do.

Jamie sits at the kitchen island with a notebook while she runs around the kitchen to cook dinner. She’s been craving a baked dish so she’s making lasagna for them.

“Do we want a neutral gender name?” Jamie questions. “Since we don’t know if the baby’s a boy or a girl. We can come up with names for both a boy and a girl if you want too.”

She gently stirs the large pasta noodles as she thinks. “I think gender neutral is good,” she replies. “I do have one request though.”

“What?”

“If we have a girl, her middle name is Marie for my mom.”

She looks up to look at her boyfriend and Jamie smiles at her. “Absolutely,” he says. “I won’t say no to that.”

Her mom died about three months before they found out they were expecting Baby Drysdale. It’s like she sent them the little angel growing in her daughter’s belly. That is why Baby Drysdale’s middle name will be Marie if they are a girl.

Jamie scribbles down the idea. “Okay, we have a middle name,” he comments. “If we have a girl. What about if we have a boy?”

She wracks her brain as she tries to think about a middle name if Baby Drysdale is a boy. “What about your brother or dad?” she asks. “Maybe a grandfather that meant a lot to you? Any of their names?”

Her boyfriend sighs behind her. “I mean, my dad’s name is Gary and my brother’s name is Charlie,” he replies. “I wasn’t super close to my grandfathers so I wouldn’t want to name our baby after one of them.”

“I like Charlie as a middle name,” she comments. “Would he mind if we stole his name?”

Jamie laughs. “I don’t think he’ll mind,” he tells her. “He would probably love it.”

“Then Charlie as a middle name if Baby Drysdale is a boy,” she says.

She pours the cooked pasta into a strainer in the sink so she can start layering the dish. “Now we need a first name,” Jamie says. “Especially a name that goes with both middle names we picked out.”

There’s movement behind her and she glances back. He is grabbing is laptop and bringing it back to the island. “What are you doing?” she questions.

“I am going to find a list of names and we are going to go through it until we find one we both like,” he says as he types something. “And the baby’s name isn’t going to be something basic and common either. We’re going all in.”

She laughs and layers the dish. “Alright,” she sighs. “Hit me with some names.”

“We got Avery first on the list,” Jamie tells her.

Avery Marie or Avery Charlie. “I’d like it better as a girl’s name,” she admits. “Avery Marie sounds very pretty.”

Jamie scribbles that done. “I agree,” he replies. “Next we have Taylor.”

She thinks about it as she licks some sauce off her finger. “I like it,” she says. “For both.”

More scribbling as she throws a layer of foil on top of the dish. “Next we have Wyatt,” Jamie says. “I will say that I am not a fan of this name. It doesn’t go well with either middle name.”

“Agreed. Next.”

There’s a moment of silence between them as she puts the dish in the oven and timer. She walks over to Jamie and wraps her arms around him from behind so she can see over his shoulder. “How about Silas if Baby D is a boy?” he asks. “It just popped up at a separate list at the end.”

Silas Charlie. “I love it,” she replies. She watches Jamie write it down.

“So I think we have our names,” Jamie comments. “Avery if Baby D is a girl and Silas if Baby D is a boy.” He looks up at her.

Without realizing it, tears well in her eyes. “We have our names,” she echoes. The tears spill onto her cheeks.

Jamie turns in the high stool and faces her. “Baby, you don’t have to cry,” he coos as he uses his thumbs to dry her tears. “This is supposed to be a happy moment.”

“I know,” she laughs. “I can’t help it. I’m a very emotional person right now.”

He pulls her into a hug and rests a hand on her belly to give the baby a hug. “I love you both,” Jamie says. “Emotions and all.”

She laughs and rests her cheek on her boyfriend’s head as he gently rubs her belly.

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

have a request ? check out the guidelines !

wanna be added to the taglist ? fill out this form !

taglist: @fanboysfangirl @dasiysthings @equallyshaw @dancerbailey3 @goldihocksrocks @love4lando @mangoluver @prettyinsatiable @ivy-34