#shut the fuck up and let this man grieve

[gilmores-glorious-blog]

if i see anyone on here complaining that orym brings up his MURDERED HUSBAND AND FATHER too much, i’m going to become violent

[anxiously-sidequesting]

Asshole Things Ambrose Has Said/Done #8: Describe Cyrus' relationship with Malistaire as "odd" then sends a child, essentially a stranger to Cyrus, with no business with being involved in their family issues, to extract information out of Cyrus on how to kill his brother (a grieving man)

[soullessjack]

hi im tired and in a teeny bit of pain and I’m fed up with jack being used to fix and absolve dean so heres them mutually getting their shit together like they actually should okay goodnight send tweet

[shy-writer-999]

Summary: Let's balance out the end of kinktober with some toottthhhhh-rotting levels of sweetness. We'll make up for it tomorrow!

CW: Afab reader w/GN language. Teeny tiny bit of smut. Short and very sweet!

MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

What do you look like when you’re angry?

How do you grieve?

When you’re sad, do you shut down? Do you curl up in bed and heave sobs, or do you favor silent tears trailing down your cheeks?

Among others, these are the things Law wonders when he thinks about you. He wants to know you—to really know you. To be privy to your faults, habits, and your quirks. The things about you that no one else sees. Intimate moments of suffering along with the day-to-day.

Do you talk to yourself when you’re alone?

What does your hair look like right when you get out of the shower?

What’s your favorite time of year?

His heart contorts into alien shapes when he sees you. He clams up. You have no way of knowing the intensity of his emotions, the weapons of desire that his heart and brain exchange. The magnitude of your presence assails his senses, quickens his breath, stops his heart.

He’s well acquainted with the way you laugh and the way your lips turn into the smile that he looks forward to every day. He tries to act normal around you, and he succeeds. He succeeds too well, in fact, he’ll never have a chance with you until he does something out of the ordinary.

He stares sometimes. You notice that, at least. But you try to play it off.

Law can only tolerate so much anguish until it bubbles over.

When he works up the nerve to kiss you, his hand lingers on the small of your back. Your eyes are open from shock and you’re rigid. You’ve mused on how his lips feel, if his kisses along your jawline would tickle, if he would run his fingers through your hair. What would his fingers feel like entwined with yours?

But Law’s thoughts about you go deeper than that. He passed that point—the point of fantasizing about being intimate with you—months ago. He still indulges, of course. When he does, he’s fixated on what your face would look like pleasure-ridden and fucked out. How your breasts would feel in his hands.

The day that Law kisses you, he makes you blush first. He’s awkward, or, if not awkward, something akin to it. When he smiles at you, sits by you at lunch, and finds you in the some random corner of the ship later, he knows that today is the day.

The desire and ardent admiration are festering inside of him and he can’t take it anymore.

He wants to know what your skincare routine is and hear your scratchy morning voice. He wants to wash your plate after dinner, to treat you as nicely as you deserve. He wants to give you the world, but your lips haven’t even met yet.

When they do, the world fades away. You melt into his embrace; rigidity dissipates when you realize that he wants you—that your desire is mutual. It’s like getting struck by lightning; an electric current sends sparks where your skin meets.

His rough hands feel soft as they cup your cheeks. When he pulls away, he holds you there for a moment. It's silent as he watches your cheeks dust pink and your eyelashes flutter.

“I think I love you."

oy vey my heart hurts. i need this man stat. TT^TT

here's my masterlist and here's my october posting schedule.

tomorrow is the last day of kinktober!!! :0

finally, trick or treat? (tumblr links)

[paperbackribs]

tags: steddie, pre-canon, season S2-ish, tommy hagan will always have a crush on Steve Harrington

🩵💥🩵

“Someday, you're gonna get bitch-slapped, and I'm not gonna do a thing to stop it,” Steve hears the echo of his words in the Hawkins High boys’ bathroom. Spinning off the tiles, pinging against its corners and stabbing at Tommy who stands gasping at his best friend.

But Steve doesn’t care. This has been a long time coming.

Tommy is a prick and Steve thought there wasn’t anything wrong with going with the flow, ignoring the snide comments, looking away from the rumours that Carol would spread, as long as his friends remained by his side.

But Billy Hargrove had infected Hawkins High. Steve stopped swallowing the cool aid. And Tommy is fuming; red in the face and ready to take it out on any unfortunate soul that crosses his path.

Enter Steve.

Or, really, enter Eddie Munson.

Steve wasn’t sure if Tommy followed Eddie into the empty toilets or coincidentally came across him or whatever could be going on in the mixed up mind of his former best friend. But watching Tommy square off his stocky, muscular body against the other boy, boxed into the corner and wide, brown eyes only visible over Tommy’s shoulder, Steve swears that he’ll no longer look away from Tommy’s indiscretions.

So, he says it again, nodding to the leather clad boy in the corner, “Eddie’s going to take a swing at you and not only will I not defend you, I might even fucking taking a swing too.”

Tommy gapes, “What the fuck, Steve? I know we’ve been having troubles, but you’d take the freak’s side over mine?”

Eddie’s face twists in the background. Steve can see the anger warping his eyes and he doesn’t blame him, almost wishes that Eddie would take a swing and then Steve could just stand back and let it happen.

He sighs: he’s allowed a lot of things to just happen so far and it’s not to his credit.

Weirdly, Steve's resigned gaze meets Eddie’s incredulous look and, just for a moment, Steve feels like he’s met someone who gets it. Someone who sees the ridiculous, short-sighted nature of the petty bullying in the hallways of their high school and knows how stupid and utterly pathetic it is.

Steve swears that the corner of Eddie’s lips kick up at the irony of their shared understanding but is distracted as Tommy strides forward, knocking against his shoulder hard enough to send Steve spinning against the wood of a stall. He steadies himself as Tommy slams the bathroom door shut behind him with a clamorous bang and shakes his head: how could he have had such loyalty for a guy who won’t even stop to talk out their stupid shit together?

Steve thought he’d at least earned Tommy’s patience, a moment of Tommy’s time so they could talk this out and find a way forward again. He stares after his former friend, a hollow, gaping hole in his stomach as he grieves the friendship he thought they’d shared.

Eddie approaches with a gentle hand, laying it on Steve’s shoulder, “Are you all right, man?”

Steve swallows around the thickness in his chest and belatedly realises that his cheeks are wet. He clears his throat and, through a tight smile, says, “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Are you okay?”

The deep richness of those brown eyes regard him for a long moment and Steve feels stripped bare. He thought he was the guy rescuing Eddie, but he suddenly feels like the one vulnerable and exposed to the other boy.

Eddie smiles softly, “Yeah, got saved, right? How could I be anything but peachy keen?”

Steve snorts despite himself, amused by Eddie’s tongue-in-cheek tone, “Like a summertime in Georgia.” He can’t help but flash to Tommy’s retreating back and hates that his tone is already bitter, “Except I’m the stupid fucking tree alone in the grove.”

His head twitching slightly to the side, as if he were weighing Steve’s words, Eddie lightly responds, “Well, maybe it’s time to try another field. Wanna hang out sometime?”

Steve blinks, bewildered at the offer. The suggestion given so freely and without conditions seems anathema to his experience of friendship, and especially friendship in the complex halls of high school. He eyes the other boy suspiciously, but Eddie’s eyes remain clear, his body loose and almost curled towards Steve as if he were the north to his compass.

What could it hurt? Steve thinks.

Looking at what he can only describe as kindness in Eddie’s eyes, Steve thinks that a lot of things could hurt. Could burn or scald or stab, but the sweet, clear acceptance in Eddie Munson’s eyes has him thinking of a world where Steve can offer his loyalty and receive it in kind. A place where he can be good and feel like he’s doing good and perhaps a lovely brown-eyed boy would wait and tell him he’d done the right thing.

Eddie sticks out his hand in a gesture of friendship that only bolsters the words he’d already extended to Steve. And nothing moves in the cold room of Hawkins boys’ bathroom, no wind or breeze, but as Steve reaches out to clasp Eddie Munson’s outstretched hand, he feels a seismic shift that he can’t explain.

Steve’s fingers fold around the warmth of Eddie’s palm and Eddie’s full lips stretch into a smile, welcoming and true. A gesture that Steve can’t be sure of, can’t let himself fully trust; yet, nonetheless, Steve finds himself hopelessly following after Eddie’s extension of friendship.

And it'll eventually allow Steve to follow him to the confusing halls of the Hellfire Club.

To the strangely welcome space of Eddie's uncle’s trailer.

And Steve follows.

Because he is helpless but to follow this wide, brown-eyed boy who smirks at him with a knowing smile.

[vervainandspritz]

CAN YOU HEAR ME SCREAMING?—please, don't leave me

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Request by @goblinjnr

Warnings: hurt/comfort, mentions of death, grieving, angst, suicide

A/N: it's very fucking sad so beware

~~

Her eyes shut tight as her husband pressed a loving kiss onto her lips. Y/N's body involuntarily relaxing into his hands, causing Tommy to smile through the kiss.

”Mrs. Shelby, are you cold? I can see goosebumps on your skin” He teased, leaning forward as he grazed the skin of her neck with his nose, causing her to let out a sigh.

”Very funny” She responded, pinching his side lightly with a grin. ”That's what happens to a woman when her husband finally decides to put business away and give her affection instead.” Her voice was also teasing, as her own gaze completely drowned in his intense blue orbs.

Pulling her even closer, Tommy's nose brushed against hers in a promise of a kiss.

”So I'll have to consider doing this more often.”

Leaving last, strong kiss on her lips Tommy took a step back.

”Do what you have to, and come find me.” Y/N asked, squeezing his hand lightly, her expression relaxed and almost dreamy seeing him in such a good humour.

Bowing lightly, Thomas answered.

”Don't go too far, I'll join you soon.” His voice had an undertone of worry to it, his eyes becoming slightly more cloudy at the obvious allusion.

Giving him a weak nod, Y/N agreed, understanding exactly what he meant.

Don't go anywhere on your own, it's dangerous

Turning around, Thomas slowly walked back to his office, his steps echoing throughout the corridor as the warmth of their lovely encounter disappeared under the weight of reality.

Y/N let out a sharp breath, her heart picking up speed as her hand fell to her belly, causing more internal pain than anything. The mask she had to wear around him was becoming heavier with each passing day.

But she couldn't tell him. Not when the prognosis were so hopeful the last time they visited the hospital together. Not after seeing him gain back the spark he lost for so long.

Letting out a sharp exhale, Y/N turned around, slowly walking back to their bedroom. Wincing quietly she made her way through the corridor before settling on a bed lightly.

The day they found out was the worst day in her life. Rushing to the doctor so hopefully, once she noticed her stomach... Growing. After trying for a baby, could it finally happen? Y/N wondered back then, showing Tommy the swelling on her stomach.

Putting his hand over her belly, he was the happiest man in the world, dimples on his cheeks revealing to their full extent as he smiled so brightly, a rare sight but how beautiful she felt. A family, of her own.

A girl? A boy? They wondered the day before her visit. Chatting away endlessly about names, clothes and toys for a little Shelby.

A heavenly happiness that lasted no longer than three days, before they got crushed by the diagnosis.

Stomach cancer

Thomas' hand fell limp by his side, as Y/N froze completely. It took a longer minute, followed by ”I'm so sorry” from the doctor before tears appeared. Falling faster and heavier, each one a nail to her poor heart, wiping away every dream they managed to talk about in the last days.

All hope, gone, just like that.

...but it wasn't over just yet, as Dr. Wellerman explained the path they will have to go through. The risks of chemotherapy, additional tests and needed medication.

Tommy tried to stay strong, so badly, despite the white colour his face turned. Nausea took over his mind as he listened to each word, listening to the doctor explaining her survival rate. He needed to be strong.

So he was, carrying the weight like a world champion, never letting her carry it alone.

”Don't cry” He murmured in the worst nights, rocking her back and forth in his arms, sitting on the floor by the bed. ”We will bring you back to good health, and then have children. Little copies of our own, eh? A girl with my nose and your smile.” He spoke quietly into her ear, staring blankly at a wall. Whispering beautiful words she so desperately needed to hear, keeping her heart from breaking.

With each week they were both feeling worse, Y/N's physical state worsening visibly throughout the chemotherapy. The pain she felt in her abdomen could be compared to the flames from hell, reaching her ruthlessly and blooming the horrible thought she tried to push away so badly.

I want to die already, her mind would whisper cruelly, hating the way her husband's bones became more visible. His sunken eyes which lost all colour, almost as if he was the one with tumour eating away on his body and mind.

It wouldn't be much different then, because the pain he carried seeing her slowly fade away was easily the most difficult battles he had to fight.

A couple years back, Thomas would never expect to even think that, but the war in France was nothing compared to the unfair war he chose to fight everyday, holding onto his wife at all costs.

On the worst days, he would silently cry against the door of their bathroom, begging her to let him in as she cried so loudly.

”Don't look at me, I'm disgusting!” Y/N kept repeating, looking in the shattered mirror at her reflection. She was a shadow of her old self, her almost completely bald head mocking her, along with the colourless eyes that looked back.

”Y/N, please. Don't shut me away” His voice was breaking, despite the attempts to stay strong. Minutes later he would be on the floor by her side, kissing her temples and holding so tightly to not let her drown.

”You're beautiful, Mrs. Shelby. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen,” He talked, looking her in the eyes, his deep, honest voice never ceasing to bring her out of misery even just for a few seconds. Rough fingertips grazing over her delicate, pale skin. ”So beautiful I just had to marry you.”

A deep silence following his gentle tone, as his fingers drew random patterns on her skin.

”Am I dying, Tommy?” She asked quietly, her voice so fearful as she held onto his shirt, head resting on his shoulder. Thomas was almost sure she could physically hear his heart shattering at the question.

”No,” He replied confidently, getting her to look him in the eyes. To see the lack of hesitation and the fire he had in him, as her own was slowly getting smaller. She was losing hope. ”You're not dying. I wouldn't let you leave me, after all, eh?” He said, small, weak smile appearing on his lips and reaching her eyes.

”I love you so much” She whispered, slowly nodding off to sleep against his heartbeat.

Y/N remembered every and each of those days when he's been the lifeline. The only reason she was getting up and fighting against the cruel faith, slipping from death's embrace every day, almost like his love was keeping her alive.

...and it worked. Tests started coming back better than before, the cancer responded well to the chemo, allowing life to slowly seep back into their reality.

Y/N could never forget how happy it made them. Made him. The way he laughed and joked, and touched her looking, oh the way he looked at her. Like nothing else mattered, as he brought her flowers and loved every moment they had. Thomas grew to appreciate her presence so much, even the business wasn't able to get a hold of his mind as often anymore.

Life was a dream, until it wasn't.

The pain and swelling grew, sometimes making it difficult to move her legs even. Y/N held onto the thought that it was temporary, that everything was okay, so she didn't tell him. Couldn't bring herself to share her worries, seeing the way he lived and not just survived anymore.

So the secrets began, every letter from the hospital started coming to the rented storage she kept away from everyone. Tests getting more worrying until one, particular one, killed the hope completely.

The cancer no longer remained in her stomach, now spreading to the liver, lymph nodes and lungs, crushing the potential survival rate to 3%.

”Oh God” She cried at first, howling so loudly her throat grew sore and voice weak.

But it wasn't the worst. The worst was pretending around Tommy, forcing herself to smile and walk and talk as lively as before.

Be there for him, and try hard enough to smile so it would reach her eyes, because else he would know.

Each day was harder as the pain grew stronger. Eventually she had to start shaving her head every few days, to hide the fact she stopped the chemotherapy.

The pain was too much. The first time was easier, as she mindlessly shared the misery with Tommy. Carrying it together was easier, but with how much he loved her, seeing her in that state was killing him more than cancer was killing her.

So she pretended. Smiling, shaving her head and making sure to keep her expression stoic as the swelling burned hellishly.

So here she was, sitting on the edge of their bed, both hands on her belly in hopes to ease the pain. Unfamiliar pain, one so strong she couldn't breath at all.

”Tommy” She managed to whimper out, fingers wrapping around the edge of the nightstand so hard, her knuckles turned white. Slowly lowering herself to the ground, Y/N felt her legs giving out as she fell down with a loud thump, starting to cough.

Barely opening her eyes, she noticed the drops of crimson red fluid dirtying the clean, wooden floor. Her mind turned hazy, feeling completely out of it as more and more blood splattered the floor.

Only then did she barely register the fast, loud steps approaching.

”Y/N!” Thomas boomed loudly, rushing to her side. His face was completely pale, his shaky hands wrapping around her chest as he pulled her up, completely panicked. ”Frances! Frances call the ambulance!” He screamed in a frenzy, leaning forward to try and help. ”Y/N, I'm here, I'm here.” He choked out as her eyes became cloudy, breaths coming out in short bursts. ”Y/N! Look at me, please fucking look at me!” Tears steamed down his face at the suddenly terrible state she found herself in. She looked at him, but couldn't see.

As he cried, and screamed, pulling all the old medication she used to be taking from her nightstand, spilling them by his side and looking for the particular one that used to help with breathing problems, Y/N was halway gone.

Physically she couldn't see, struggling to breathe enough to keep her brain functioning yet the only thing she could think of was him.

Please, don't take me away. Who's going to protect him from the self-destruction his heart holds?

”Please, don't leave me” He cried out weakly, pushing his forehead against her collarbone, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. Hiding.

The memory of his happy, blue eyes was the last thing she registered, feeling as if he gently eased her into sleep, taking away all the pain. In reality, Thomas couldn't hold in the animalistic howling that ripped from his throat while he held her tightly to his chest, rocking back and forth as the sound of an ambulance pulling up by the Arrow house came to his ears.

From this moment, there was nothing.

***

She was gone.

He lost count of the amount of hours since it happened. Thomas didn't know if it was a night or a day, as he forced the maids to cover every source of light in the house before sending them away. The alcohol combined with opium in his system made him see the most beautiful things in the dark, memories shining so brightly.

His eyes rolled back at the scent of her, as he was holding her nightgown to his chest. Blood was trickling from his fingers, dirtying the pink material because of the destruction he brought upon the Arrow house once left alone.

Rocking back and forth in the middle of the room, he remembered the sight of his wife sitting by the vanity, laughing as she made him roll his eyes with her smart mouth. She fitted so perfectly, so perfectly with the scent he was feeling.

It was all that mattered, as long as he felt her presence around him.

In the next few days Polly threw away all the opium he had, trying her best along with her nephews to support him through the ripping loss. Only if he wanted that help, maybe everything would eventually be okay.

But for him, there was nothing before her, and nothing after her. The story was done.

Once left alone again, he let out a sigh, feeling the pounding headache. The noise was overwhelming, impossible to suppress ever since she was gone.

”I can hear them coming again” He whispered into the silence of his office, as the shovels dug against the walls from every direction. Getting louder with every passing minute. ”They want to take you away from me, darling” His voice was rough from the lack of using it. Opening his eyes, Thomas looked at the portrait hanging on the wall. You and him. Like like he promised. His eyes on the painting were far from reality, not resembling the dark irises, swallowed completely by madness which took over his mind without change. ”I won't let you leave me” He repeated the line from the past, lips wrapping around the familiar words as he pulled out the pistol from his holster. Lazily pressing the muzzle against his head as his lips turned upwards into a heartfelt smile. ”I'm coming, sweetheart.”

His loving words were followed by a loud bang, as the bullet ruthlessly ripped through his skull and brain, only to get stuck in the old furniture in another room.

His body went completely limp as the unlit cigarette fell onto the desk, becoming the last sound of their lively love ever heard in the wall of the Arrow house.

A house which became a cemetery for the undying love, and future that would never come.

Taggin my people: @iilovedonnatartt @gentlebeari @narlytude @honeymoon8 @chaimaarouaine11 @hatethis29 @bruhidkjustwannaread @reiwanwan @immyowndefender @jbrownta @preparedfruit @emptyvoidofmine

[unequivocallyreid]

Disguise It

repost! i was accidentally on priv when i posted this so… doing it again! this is crazy nsfw so be warned 🤗

pairing: spencer x fem!reader

preview:

You couldn’t tell you who moves in first, but suddenly his lips are on yours and your hands are tugging in his hair while his hold you to him. You can feel all of him and it doesn’t seem like it is possibly enough. All you know, is that he breaks away first.

“I don’t know how to handle myself around you. I shouldn’t be here. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Now it’s your turn to grab the man in front of you.

“Spencer, shut up.”

warnings: criminal minds typical violence, case descriptions, smut, light angst, enemies to lovers, unprotected sex w/ talk of contraceptives

please let me know if i missed anything!

Georgia is sweltering in the summer. The silk, sleeveless shirt you wore was starting to cling to the sweat on your back, and your body only heated further upon the prodding you were receiving from your fellow team member. It felt like everything you said was met with a rebuttal from Dr. Reid.

At this point, you’d been a part of the BAU for two years. While you were the youngest of the team, you felt the dozens of cases you helped to successfully close should have garnered you some respect in Spencer’s eyes, but, for whatever reason, he still saw you as an expendable part.

At first, his hostility seemed excusable. You had joined the team, and were struck upon meeting him. He was beautiful and incredibly smart and even more incredibly cold. Shortly after, Penelope explained you had replaced one of Reid’s closest friends, Alex. After some, admittedly nosy, probing, you found out just how integral Alex had been in helping him to grieve the loss of his girlfriend at the hands of an unsub. You were understanding and recognized that you shouldn’t expect the warmest greeting from the man. But over time, it seemed all of the vitriol he had for the undesirable aspects of the job was taken out on you. Every time someone was lost, or a suspect got away, you were there for him to blame. You got it, sure it was hurtful, but you got it.

However, two years later, you decidedly did not get it. Around everyone else, he glowed, and yet when it came to you he was all snide remarks. Still, you couldn’t help but be enamored by him. You saw how he cared so deeply for everyone on the team. How any time he could, he put others well being above his. Hell, he didn’t even like you, but somehow, anytime there was a dangerous situation he found a way to put himself between you and it. You hated how attracted to him you were and you hated that he made you the object of his anger.

This case was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Four women had been murdered in the span of four weeks in a small town in Georgia. All of them with their hair cut and dyed post-mortem. The team was called out three days ago, and aside from a profile that fit nearly half the men in town, you had nothing. With a day left before another victim was expected, Hotch called you all into a small office within the sheriffs department.

“All we have to go on currently is that our unsub is targeting young women he perceives as easy targets. All four victims visited bars the night they were abducted, and they were all found the next morning. We know he is going to strike again tonight. Right now, our only option is to station an officer in one of the bars that he is likely to hit.”

Hotch sighed before continuing, “Y/N, you fit his preferred age and build. We need it to be you.”

Before you could say anything, an all too familiar voice spoke from behind you.

“Hotch, all due respect, but she doesn’t have nearly enough experience undercover. It’s more likely she screw up this whole case than find our guy.”

“Reid, I don’t know-“

You cut Derek off before he could finish his sentence, “Are fucking serious?”

“It’s nothing personal, Y/N. You just don’t have the tactical and logistical skills something like this requires,” Reid says with the corner of his mouth turned up and you see red.

“What is your problem?”

“Y/N,” Derek says trying to settle you with a hand on your shoulder but you shrug him off.

“No. No, I’m so tired of this. Look Reid, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you don’t like me. I’m sorry that I took Alex’s place. I’m sorry I’m good at my job. I know it, everyone here knows it but for you.”

You could’ve stopped there, in fact you should’ve stopped there, but obviously you didn’t.

“You know what, most of all I’m sorry I wasn’t on the team sooner, because if I was someone would have had the sense to not let you work on Maeve’s case. Maybe then, she’d be here and you wouldn’t be so fucking bitter at the world.”

As soon as you said it you wished you could take it back, but you were already half way out the door with tears pooling in your eyes.

Morgan followed closely behind you, catching up and pulling you aside before you reached the front door of the department.

“Pretty girl,”

You cut him off again, “Look I know. I’ll apologize to everyone, but I can’t do this right now.”

“Kid, let me finish.”

You look at him and wipe your eyes, a signal to go on.

“You don’t owe anyone anything. Do I think you made the best choice back there? No. But, you have a right to be angry, just don’t let it blow your chance to prove him wrong.”

“Derek, I know he’s your best friend. You don’t have to comfort me, I’m a big girl.”

Derek pulled you into his chest, “He’s my friend but he’s also an idiot. You said what you needed to and he needed to get his ass whopped. Look, go get ready for tonight. Despite what Reid said the team needs you and those girls need you, do it for them.”

“I don’t really have a choice do I,” you say through a sniffle.

“Nope. So, get moving, sweetness.”

~

The embarrassment of breaking down in front of your team continued to rock you on your way to the motel down the street. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t stop replaying Spencer’s face over and over in your head. Regardless of his feelings toward you, you cared about him and you didn’t want to hurt him. It was just too much pressure built up over your time with the BAU and you snapped. If you could have helped it you would have.

You didn’t really have any bar attire in your go bag, and you knew that your unsub liked a certain look, so you took it upon yourself to stop by a shop. As quickly as possible, time was literally running out, you found a black mini-dress. The fabric was thick enough to cover the wire you were sure you’d be wearing, and it wasn’t expensive enough for you to feel guilty about purchasing it.

Throughout your time at the BAU, you had never worn anything like this. Lack of social life aside, anytime you went out with the team to celebrate a case or birthday, you wore business casual. Knowing they would all, namely Spencer, see you in something so small made you anxious. If you had chosen a different life, this would have been normal night-out attire for you, but you don’t even think you own a skirt that’s shorter than your knee.

The makeup you put on did nothing to ease your discomfort. It was messy and dark, just like the women he killed were wearing. You looked just like them.

On the drive back to the station, the knot in your stomach felt like it nearly tripled in size. You were scared you’d be reprimanded upon entering, while wearing club attire, like a 17 year old who broke her curfew. As you opened your car door you felt your hands shake. You put on you FBI jacket for modestly and walked in. A quick scan of the room showed no sign of Spencer, which took a bit of weight off of your shoulders. You didn’t think you could handle seeing the broken look in his eyes for a second time that day.

Once JJ saw you she walked over and said gently, “Y/N, are you alright? Are you sure you’re okay to do this?”

Admittedly, you had to force a smile as you replied, “Don’t worry about me.”

Too much was weighing on you. If you weren’t successful, you’d have another body on your conscience, coupled with using the most devastating event in Reid’s life against him. You felt like shit. Part of you knew he deserved it and the other wanted to make everything better for him. It was selfish and made you feel gross, but you had always secretly hoped that you could be the one to bring out the light in him if he ever let you in, but you threw away the slim chance of that when Maeve’s name left your lips.

After attempting to further assure JJ that you were okay, you walked back to the office you knew that you’d find Hotch in. You opened the door and found Spencer and him going over the geographical profile. When Spencer looked up and saw you, he excused himself quietly and fled the room. Hotch said nothing but waved you in.

He ignored the elephant in the room, choosing instead to explain the details of your assignment.

“Morgan, JJ, and Reid will all be stationed around the bar,” he said plainly, but you did not miss his scan of your face, searching for a reaction.

“If things escalate, if you are threatened at any point, they will be there. We’ll hear everything through the wire, and you’ll hear us.”

Still lacking the confidence you held earlier in the day, you reply with a meek “Yes sir,” and move to leave the office.

“Y/n,” he calls out to you before you reach the door. “Don’t let it get to you”

~

The bar feels hotter than it did outside, and the dress you’re wearing feels even smaller. As you wait to be approached, you fail to catch Reid’s eye. He’s been avoiding your gaze for the last hour you’d been there.

Right when you think it’s time to drawback and admit you weren’t the type he was looking for, you feel a rough hand run across your back.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing at a place like this all alone?”

You can smell his cigarette breath before you can see him, and you have to school your face before you reply.

“I’d say I was waiting for you, but I don’t know your name.” You say, forcing a giggle and slurring your words, and you swear you hear Reid scoffing in your ear.

“It’s Michael, and I think you know just what to say.”

You hear Penelope confirm the name in your ear. The man before you is stocky and looks close to 30. He moves the hand that was on your back to rest high on your thigh.

“Let me buy you a drink, doll.”

You know you have to test him. You have to do something to prove he’s your guy, so you move to stand with faux shaking legs.

“I really shouldn’t, I uh, have to get home.”

A sick smile ghosts over his face and he forces you to sit back down, his grip tightening even more on your leg.

“Fun is just startin’, don’t get cold feet on me now.”

You reach to pull his hand off you, “No, I really need to be home. I, My roommate will worry.”

One hand grabs the back of your neck as the other lifts higher on you leg.

“Darlin, don’t you know your manners?

Hotch tells you to hold off, asking you to push him a little farther before they step in, and as much as your shaking with this man’s hands on you and stale breath in your face, you follow orders.

“You’re hurting me,” you tell him through clenched teeth as his nails sink into your skin.

“I promise you I have a lot more planned, doll. Now be good girl and sit down, or you’re going to have a knife deep in that pretty little waist of yours.”

Before you can follow his directions, you hear a familiar voice say, “Not likely.”

While you were distracted by the man in front of you, Spencer had made his way to you from across the room, and was now pushing down the man onto the bar in front of you. His eyes were dark and he was rougher than you had ever seen him. Maybe unfortunately, JJ came up behind you and pulled you away from Spencer and your staring was cut short.

The man in the bar turned out to be Michael Edwin. He had a history of petty theft and assault charges from bar fights, but Penelope recovered sealed records from his adolescence, which showed two counts of aggravated sexual assault. His fiancé had recently left him, which served as a trigger for the recent murders.

Despite protests, you were checked out by EMS before you could go back to the motel. They wanted to ensure you weren’t drugged and that you didn’t have any puncture wounds from the nails on you neck or thigh. Hotch spoke to you, told you that you did a good job, but in all honesty you just wanted to go lay down in the shitty bed that was waiting for you, and sleep away the events of the night. Fate clearly had other plans.

You were stepping out of the shower when you heard a knock at the front door. You called out to whoever it was, you assumed JJ or Morgan, that you be there in a minute. Quickly, you threw on a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt, and let your hair down from the towel that had been holding it.

Opening the door to your room did not yield the results you expected. Standing in front of you, in the same clothes he’d been wearing at the bar, was Spencer. He looked tired and his hair was sticking up like he’d spent the last two hours running his hands through it. He asked to come in. You stepped aside but did not welcome him.

“What do you need Reid? I’m really not looking to fight, I just want to sleep.”

He looked over your frame once, and then shut the door behind him.

“You drive me crazy.”

You cut him off, with a quick “Get out.”

“No, look just please let me talk to you.” You wish the desperation in his voice didn’t draw you back in immediately.

He inches closer to you as you moved away from him and says softly, “You’re stubborn and you drive me crazy. But, you were right today-“

“Please stop,” you bite back, again cutting him off.

“Christ Y/n, just let me get through this.”

He almost waits for you to stop him again before continuing. “You make me feel fucking crazy, and I can’t think and I hate it. I hate what you do to me. I hate the way I feel around you.”

“Spencer, please just go. I don’t need you to tell me that I’m terrible at my job for a second time today. Try it again tomorrow.”

You move to open the door but he grabs you before you can reach it.

“Stop talking, Y/N.”

His hands are on your waist and you heartbeat is in your throat and you know you should push him off of you but you can’t make yourself do it. He’s closer to you than he’s ever been and you can smell his sweat. As much as you want to scream at him, and force him out of your room, you can’t help but feel a warmth pooling in between your thighs.

He is impossibly closer when he says, “Y/n, please.”

You couldn’t tell you who moves in first, but suddenly his lips are on yours and your hands are tugging in his hair while his hold you to him. You can feel all of him and it doesn’t seem like it is possibly enough. All you know, is that he breaks away first.

“I don’t know how to handle myself around you. I shouldn’t be here. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Now it’s your turn to grab the man in front of you.

“Spencer, shut up.”

You pull him back to your lips, and you can feel the moment his resolve breaks. He is everywhere. His hands run up your waist and dip below you shirt, and at first it’s hesitant, but then he’s pushing you toward the mattress and pressing himself onto you.

“You think I don’t see the way you look at me every day?”

You try to reply, “You’re full of shit,” but your sentence dies off as his fingers brush over your nipple. You’re panting into his mouth and you feel him hard against you hip. Without thought, your hips roll into his, desperate for pleasure.

His hands are everywhere, and his mouth follows suit, trailing down your neck and biting hard into your shoulder. His hands become more confident but still shockingly gentle. You imagined he’d be rough and angry, almost punishing, but this is so much worse. He is caring and his lips pause over your heart beat, allowing you to feel the warmth they carry. Tears are forming in your eyes and you do your best to blink them back as his hand grip the edge of your shirt and pull it over your head.

He curses to himself when he sees you, and you feel goosebumps rise on your skin. His fingers roll over the buds on your chest and you cry out, “Spencer, please.”

You don’t even know what you’re asking him for, but he seems to understand. His fingers slip beneath the waist band of your shorts, finding your centre and rubbing gently over your clit.

“God you’re so fucking wet and I’ve barely even touched you.”

You’re lost in his touch, and the way his hands are relentless in their pursuit tells you that he is too. You never expected him to talk like this. Fantasized, sure, but actually having him right above you is almost too much to bear. It is too much, and you don’t understand it, and the tears that were forming earlier become to heavy to hold back. The gentle moans you had been letting pass through your lips turn into sobs and his fingers still as soon as he hears you.

His voice is shaken and small when he asks, “Y/n? What’s wrong, what did I do?”

His question rocks through you and makes the tears well up so much faster than they were before.

“I’m so sorry,” you choke out. “I’m so sorry. I was cruel to you and you’re being so gentle with me and I don’t understand. You, you don’t have to do this for me just because you feel bad.”

He pulls you into him in a way that is different than before, and tries to wipe away the tears you let spill.

“Y/n, that isn’t what this is. I- I should be apologizing to you. I’ve been so terrible to you and you’ve been nothing but kind.”

You scoff, thinking back to earlier in the day, and try to push him away but he holds you closer and forces you to look at him.

“You were right, Y/n. I’ve been so scared of losing more people since Maeve, and when you joined the team it was clear how wonderful you were from the second you walked in. You’re so good and so intelligent, Y/n. I was fucking terrified of how drawn to you I was, so I pushed you away and I was too dumb to realize it was hurting you until today.”

His lips find your forehead, ghosting a kiss over it before continuing, “I’ve spent the last two years failing miserably at not forming an attachment to you, and I hurt you. Please, let me show you that I care.”

You know that you should be mad at him, but you’ve never been able to stay angry at the man in front of you. So, instead of trying to fight the feelings you both had been trying to for years, you let him in.

Your lips find his for the second time that night, and this time you each won’t let the other run off. His hands travel down your body again as he whispers sweet nothings in you ear and pulls your shorts off of you. When he reconnects with your heat, the sensation feels so much greater than before. You push yourself into his hand, and gasp when his fingers find their way inside you. Their pace is languid and exploratory as he curls himself inside of you, finding a spot that makes you feel like you’re on fire.

His lips that were exploring the expanse of your chest find their way back up to yours, and it gives you the courage to press your hand to the tent of his pants. Your action makes him still momentarily but then he presses more firmly into you.

He breaks away from you and says “You feel so good,” but isn’t enough. You whine into his mouth and push your hands to try and undo the buttons of his shirt. He breathes out a laugh and helps you guide it off of him. Still, you’re nothing if not greedy and you want more, so your hands move from his chest to his belt, and suddenly he is bare to you.

As you take him in, you feel your mouth fall open, and you can’t help but reach out to touch him and whisper, “You’re so big.”

This action decidedly pushes him over the edge as a groan falls from his lips and his hands resume their previous mission at a much faster pace. You can feel the pit forming in your stomach as he reduces you to incomprehensible babble and you both know you’re close. His thumb finds your clit and you feel yourself diving over the edge as your orgasm finds you. He nurses you through it, drawing the feeling out, before removing his fingers.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n.”

You’re overcome with affection for the man above you, and you feel an incredible need to express it, but you can’t find the words. Instead, you do your best to flip him and lower yourself down his body. He watches you in awe, which almost surprises you because how could he think you wouldn’t want him in every possible way.

Once you’ve kissed your way down his chest and over his stomach, you move to put him in your mouth.

He stops you before you can, and your heart drops, scared that the illusion has shattered and he has decided he no longer wants you.

He remedies your fears quickly though when he says, “Y/n, you don’t have to.”

“I want to. I really want to, Spence. I- I want you.”

You swear you see love in his eyes, but push the thought aside and take him in your mouth.

You savor the feeling of taking him in, the way he fills your mouth and touches the back of your throat. You can’t fit him in his entirety and your hand has to pick up the slack, which seems to drive him crazy. Still, something in you wants to give him full control over you. So, when you come up for air, you take his hand and guide it to the back of your head, and genius that he is, he takes the hint. He pushes himself deeper down your throat as his hands tangle in your hair. The rhythm he build is perfect.

“You’re so fucking good, baby.”

The pet name makes your thighs press together, desperate for another release. His mouth is growing filthier by the minute.

“Fuck, Y/n. You like having my cock down you throat don’t you? Just so desperate to please, aren’t you?”

You moan around him before pulling off, feeling needier than you think you ever have before. As much as you want to make him come with your mouth, you need him inside you.

“Spencer, I need more.”

He laughs a little and says, “You’ve got to use your words, Y/n. Tell me what you want.”

The thought of saying it feels more embarrassing than anything you’ve done so far, but your desire outweighs it and you tell him, “I want you inside.”

“There you go, baby. Want me to fuck you, huh?”

You know he isn’t really asking, but you can’t stop yourself from nodding regardless.

Before going any further he asks, “Do you have a condom?”

“I don’t think so. I have an IUD and I’m clean. I trust you, but if you want to stop I get it.”

Without responding, he’s flipped you over and is now holding himself over you once again. For a second, he just looks down at you, but a small ‘please’ falling from your lips is enough to break his daze. He runs his hands down your stomach, grazing over your centre, before grabbing himself and lining up with you. The moment he starts to push himself in, you feel so full you might cry.

Your body is white hot, a feeling you haven’t experienced in any of your other sexual encounters. Hell, most of them haven’t made you come once, but with Reid you’re already bordering on a second orgasm just from him pushing into you. His pace is perfectly slow, and you can see his jaw clenched as he tries to restrain himself.

“I’m okay. You can go harder, I want you harder.”

Your words have the desired effect and you watch as he lets go. He’s everywhere and each stroke hits places that send you into a tailspin. When he rocks into you, his pelvis bushes over your clit perfectly.

“I’m gonna come, Spence. Fuck, fuck I’m coming.”

“God, I can fucking feel it, Y/n. You’re so fucking tight for me.”

If you had any shame left in you, you might be embarrassed at how quickly you came a second time, but all you can focus on is the rhythm of Spencer above you. You can feel his movements growing sloppier and you know that he’s close too.

“I’m gonna come, baby Where do you want it?”

You all but cry out, “Inside, Spencer. Please I want you inside.”

This pushes him over the edge and you can feel him pulse inside you. The sensation is almost enough to make you come again.

“Fuck, Y/n, where did that come from.”

You don’t respond and he seems to notice the dazed look in your eyes as he pulls out of you. Before you can get used to the emptiness, you feel his fingers trace your entrance.

“You want me to fuck my come back into you, huh? Make sure you’re really full?”

You nod, almost subconsciously, and he begins pushing his fingers into you at a relentless pace. You reach and heap his arm to center yourself, but it’s no use.

“Just one more, love. Let me show you how sorry I am.”

Your body is shaking and tears, different than before, well in your eyes and begin to break free.

“Such a pretty, filthy girl. Let go for me, baby. Can you do that? Can you come for me?”

You’ve always been one to please, and you feel the ball of tension in your stomach break free. Everything is white and the only thing you can do is call out Spencer’s name.

“So fucking pretty, Y/n. Come back, baby. I want to see your eyes.”

You didn’t even realize they were closed, but when they open you’re greeted with Spencer’s face above you. He smiles down at you and moves to get off the bed, which causes a jolt of panic to course through you.

“Don’t leave,” you all but yell. “Please, just stay with me tonight.”

He quells all your worries with a sentence, “Just getting a towel to clean you up. I’m not going to leave you anytime soon.”

done! let me know what you think!

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 65

part 1 | part 64 | ao3

cw: angst, weed

Eddie reaches out then stops, hand hovering just above Steve’s knee, something like panic in the tremor of his wrist. “Steve, for real, man, please let me—”

“No, you for real, man.” Seriously? Man? As if there aren't so many more important things to discuss right now. Steve squeezes his eyes shut and pinches his nose, the voice of an old swim coach ringing in his ear. Game time, Harrington, c’mon, where’s your head?

“Look,” Steve sighs, fingers clenching around his shin. “We can talk about... this," he gestures between the two of them, "later. Let’s just— Important stuff only for right now, okay?” 

Eddie’s breath shakes when he answers. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Cool.”

“Good.” 

This is somehow worse than silence.

Steve shakes his head, tries to focus through the fog of awkward energy. Important things. Important.

Like, how about ‘what were you doing with a pretty girl in my fucking trailer?’ for starters, or maybe—

Oh, fuck. 

Steve looks sharply at Eddie. “Why were you asking if I was real?”

Eddie stares back in silence, eyes huge, bottom lip trembling as Steve presses into his space; drops his voice, brings a hand up to wrap around Eddie’s arm — just above his elbow, soft leather and warm muscle shivering under the touch. God. Please. Not him, too. “Eddie. Did you— did you see something? Are you…?”

“No,” Eddie shudders. “No, sorry, just, uh—” He shakes his head with a grimace, a shrill sound spilling out, some frantic braying thing that might have counted as a laugh if his face wasn’t doing that. “Pretty goddamn sure I’m just losing my mind after seeing the— the fucking—”

His palm floats up to the ceiling in a wobbly zig-zag, looseleaf drifting to the classroom carpet in reverse, then he clenches his fist and lets it explode open with a ‘boom,’ the sound effect ruined by another strangled laugh. “Oh, my god,” he giggles. Humorless, horrified, nervous system overwhelm. His entire arm is shaking. “Oh, shit, oh, Jesus Christ, Steve, Chrissy’s—”

“Hey.” Steve tightens his grip on Eddie’s arm; waits for Eddie to take a breath, gasping and wet. “We can’t think about it, alright?”

Eddie’s voice cracks miserably. “That’s not fucking fair to her.”

“I know.” Steve loosens his hold; smooths his palm over the leather sleeve; wonders who he’s really trying to soothe. “I know. But we can’t— if what you and Dustin said is true, if it’s really some— some monster that hurt Chrissy, that’s trying to hurt us? We can’t grieve yet, okay? We can’t give him an opening to attack. We need a game plan.”      

Eddie exhales like he’s trying to mimic an owl. “Okay,” he nods eventually, slapping his thighs as he stands up. “Okay. Game plan. Yeah. Shit. Games and sports and plans and…” 

He trails off, mouth moving around mumbled gibberish as he wiggles his fingers and drums on himself, hands slipping up his torso, tongue over his top lip. He pats his front pocket. “Oh, hell yeah, baby.” Whirling to face Steve, he slips his forefinger and thumb into the narrow pouch and pulls out the Altoids tin where he keeps his pre-roll stash. “How’s this for a game plan?”

—

part 66

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[acaaai-t]

3 months and counting

[modern au! scaramouche x gn! reader]

cw: angst, hurt/no comfort, major character death, hints at suicide, probably unhealthy coping methods idk

The taste of bitter coffee and overly sweetened scent of dandelion tea lingered, lingered for a little longer than he liked.

Wilted flowers lay by a small vase of fresh ones. The pile of dead flowers seemed to grow bigger with each passing day.

The house was dim, with the only source of light being a weakly lit candle surrounded by empty dishes and untouched cutlery on the dining table. For a place that had felt so big not too long ago, it suddenly seemed to be so small.

Scaramouche hummed quietly to himself as he gently dusted at the debris that clung onto the picture frames. His touch was delicate as his fingers brush against the cold glass. The tune he has been singing echoed off the walls, traveling down the silent hallway.

How long has it been? He wonders.

Three days? A week? Two weeks? Scaramouche had long lost count.

Once he was sure that the picture frame was clean, he stepped back and admired his handiwork. In this empty house, the only thing that stood out most was the wall of what Scaramouche called ‘memories’. Golden frames surrounded photos of all kind, taken by you and hung by him.

He misses you.

On most days, Scaramouche would stay huddle in what once was a shared bedroom, buried deep beneath the blankets, scrolling through past messages. Dark circles heavily marked his under eyes, a stark contrast to his porcelain pale skin.

For the first month, he was a utter mess. Unable to process the tragic news of your sudden death.

It had just felt like yesterday, when the two of you were just out on a date, laughing and giggling.

The world was mocking him, taunting and laughing, watching the hallow shell of the man he once was as he stood there alone in the cemetery. Flowers previously placed by your grave was removed and tossed away, replaced by a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers.

The night you were buried under the willow tree, was the only night he had ever worked up the courage to sit by your grave, and wallow in the despair.

“I miss you,” the three words etched into his mind, quietly spoken into the empty void.

What about the plans you’ve made with him? The promises of a happy ending, a beautiful future.

Gone… all gone, far too soon.

“Will we get a cat too?” your voice was eager, full of hope.

Scaramouche smiled and pressed a small kiss to your temple. “Whatever you want.”

You giggled. “Let’s get a black cat then. I can see the resemblance between you and them.”

“Hey,” he whined.

You beamed up at him. “I love you.”

How he wished time could’ve stopped right there and then, allowing that precious moment to last for an eternity.

“I love you too.”

God, it was so fucking unfair. Why did you have to be the one to die?

It could’ve been anyone else, but you just had to be there at the wrong time.

He slumped down on the empty couch, cushions and throw blankets sitting in the same spot as before. Scaramouche didn’t dare touch anything. He was scared— terrified that if he even so as much move anything a centimeter away, he’ll lose the remaining parts of you that he had so desperately been trying to cling onto.

Scaramouche had already lost you once, he couldn’t lose you for a second time.

The soft golden glow of the ceiling lights flickered in and out for a brief moment, a sign that the electrical bill was long overdue. It was fortunate enough that the landlord took pity upon him and gave Scaramouche an extension to pay his bills.

3 months.

It’s been three whole months since the accident. Three months since he’s shut himself off from the outside world. Three months he spend crying and grieving, fantasizing scenarios of you and him. He knows it’ll never come true, but he can only hope.

Head barely above water, the bits of hope he has is all that’s supporting his weight, preventing him from drowning. Yet as the clock moves, he finds himself sinking lower and lower.

Two hollow knocks to his door startled him out of his trancelike state. “Who,” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

When the answer was delivered with another two knocks, he spoke louder. “What.”

“Scaramouche,” the muffled voice of Childe floated through the thick wood. “Open the door.”

He scowled, body already moving before his mind had even processed Childe’s words. The door cracked open with a soft creak, a silver of the sunlight spilling into the dark house. Scaramouche squeezed his eyes closed, momentarily blinded by the light. It’s been so long since he’s seen the sun.

Childe’s shadow stepped in and blocked out the light. He gave Scaramouche a tired smile. “Archons you look like shit.”

Scaramouche said nothing and kept his silent gaze on him.

The ginger sighed. “I was hoping you’d come visit… them, with us.”

There were no names mentioned, yet Scaramouche almost instantly knew who Childe was referring to. He felt his body tense up.

“Look, I’m not trying to force you or anything, but we all miss them, and you too, ‘mouche… you haven’t talked with any of us in three month now.”

Guilt gnawed at his heart, eating away yet another piece.

He hadn’t meant to neglect his friends. None of the things he was doing was intentional.

“… I’m sorry,” he whispered, lowering his gaze, unable to keep eye contact with Childe. He fear that if he continued, tears would begin to formulate, and there’d be nothing to stop them from flowing.

“Mind if I come in?” Childe’s voice softened.

Scaramouche felt tears prickling at his eyes. Childe placed one hand on his shoulder, gently giving a pat— and that was what finally broke him. The water droplets fell uncontrollably, rolling down his cheeks. A pitiful sight to behold.

Childe pulled him into a hug and remained quiet. There wasn’t much he could say to comfort Scaramouche’s pain. Everyone was still grieving, him included.

His quiet sniffles slowly died down. Just this one time, he thought to himself, wiping away at a tear. It’s the least he can do.

“Let me get my things,” Scaramouche’s voice was hoarse. A pain-like expression was scrawled across his features as he pulled away from Childe and step back into the shadows of his home.

There wasn’t much he needed to do to get ready. He’d given up on life the moment he was given the news that you didn’t make it. Why he had been fighting for so long, he didn’t understand.

He threw on a simple black cardigan, it was a handmade gift from you to him. In your words, it took you a week and a half to make it— “i hope you’ll like it,” you said sheepishly.

Of course he’ll love it. Cherish it even till death.

He took in a deep breath and went to look for Childe. The medications stored in his pockets jangled against the hard plastic with each step he took.

The last strands of hope snapped, and he sunk. Bubbles floating to the surface as his darkened silhouette slowly disappeared under the void of water.

Tonight, he decided. Tonight, he’ll be able to see you again.

The lights sputtered out as Scaramouche flipped the switch. With the last bits of power it has, the lights illuminated the series of letter sprawled across the glass coffee table— each one address to someone dear to him.

Then it all went dark.

✩ ·┆ masterlist

notes—

— this was fun to write

© acaaai-t — do not plagiarize, repost, or translate

[brucewaynehater101]

I remember this one shot where tim & bruce swaps bodies while bruce is as batman in some jla meeting. Tim just continues it perfectly.

This is the body swap au, btw

Anyways, would Tim do a good job as Batman?. I think if Tim sees the swap as something brief he would do his best. (But we all make them swap long enough to Tim having enough time for long term plans) so if Tim gaslights himself into believing they would swap back after some weeks, he would do better. He thinks he can do better as a way to show he can be Batman without being a evil one(he's fighting the gun Batman allegations).

Still, it would be funny that in his "I'm gonna fix Bruce's life while am here plan".

Tim acts less as a classic moody batman while in the atalaya. Gives more and kind advice. He talks with Superman about his situation with Kon. He helps Flash with his eating schedule. He helps Arthur with whatever is going on in Atlantis. He shuts off all of the surveillance on Bruce's coworkers, just to mess with Bruce.

He just avoids Martian tho.

Then, it's been a month since the swap. They don't seem to find any way back. Tim cannot lie to himself anymore and the Batman duties are becoming way too much.

Then Bruce dies in Tim's body.

Tim never wanted to be Batman, neither to be like Bruce. But he messed Tim up. Tim never wanted to be like Bruce Wayne. And now he is living his nightmare, every day since Bruce death, Tim has to wake up and avoid his reflection. Tim never wanted to be like Bruce Wayne and now everyone call him the wrong name. Bruce died and Tim does what he does best, he sacrifices. He ditchs his identity any hope of being Tim Drake, so Batman can rise once again.

.

.

(The last paragraph is a little darker end of the version of this au where Bruce dies in Tim's body. I happily would read some of your ideas where none of them dies tho. There's just so many aspects os this au we can develop more, also we need more bruce pov of this).

Here is the post being referenced!

[I'm sorry to say that 90% of Bruce POV's are just gonna be him suffering.... I can try, though. Put up a valiant effort]

Let's really pack in that angst, shall we?

For this AU, Tim has been compared to Bruce so many fucking times.

At first, despite his shaky relationship with the grieving man, he took it as a compliment. He was like his hero Batman!

It started with Alfred fondly tutting over Tim's capacity to neglect self care duties and his shared interests. The older man would sarcastically ask Tim if he was following Bruce's footsteps of being a loner who sits in his basement all day (just teasing and joking and slight reprimanding).

Then there were the heroes that remarked on Robin's uncanny ability to do the batglare or translate Bruce's grunts.

When Steph and Tim got into arguments (and Tim was being a grade A asshole), Steph would compare Tim's emotional incapability and distrust with Batman's.

Dick, in the heat of the moment, has yelled at Tim to stop acting like Bruce (they got ice cream afterwards as an apology).

Jason has tsked and grumbled and shouted about Tim being molded into Bruce's shape/image.

Even Babs has made a comment or two.

While they didn't mean to hurt Tim (unless they were fighting [for which they would both usually make up and apologize]), it caused a small dig and insecurity to Tim's own self-image.

He wanted Bruce to be proud of him.

Tim wanted to be nothing like Bruce.

Then you add on the 16th birthday, Bruce's shit with Steph, how Bruce treats his other kids, other canon events, gun Batman, and Tim losing the rose-colored glasses of childhood?

Yeah. Tim doesn't want to be Bruce.

It seems fitting, after stealing Robin, that he'd get stuck under the name of the man he grew to see as a warning.

It figures that his choice in saving Batman lead to Tim's loss of self.

[Hmm... I can do another post chatting about Bruce or no one dying if you would like.... Or someone else dying before the truth comes out :)]

[de4dlyniightshade]

nice things spencer has done for JJ:

- invited her to events outside of work

- been a good godfather to her son (offering to babysit, bonding with him, etc)

- been concerned when she was hurt, counting her injuries and generally being worried

- helped her get closure on the man who tortured her in afghanistan and listened when she expressed her anger and hurt at the situation

- many more things

nice things JJ has done for spencer:

- ???

(your post got me thinking lol…)

lemme make a list rq

things spencer has went out of his way to do for jj:

swallowed his feelings so she didn't feel bad about leaving him at the barn.

let her confide in him about countless things over and over.

did nothing but be a good godfather to her kid, who loves him dearly, probably more so than his mother!

showed genuine real concern when she was hurt.

invited her to a sports game bcs SHE likes sports and he wanted to hang out with her even though he hates sports.

showed up for her even when he was still grieving the "death" of emily.

never second guessed her.

made sure she was included and invited to things even if she turned it down.

put on a smile just so she wouldn't worry about him.

gave her all the support she needed whenever she needed it no mather how much he was struggling.

bad things spencer has done to jj:

was a little sassy.

good things jj has done for spencer:

gave him a little hug like once.

celebrated his birthday.

bad things jj has done to spencer:

killed him.

lied to him.

broke his trust.

gaslit him.

was ableist to him.

belittled him.

invalidated his feelings.

watched him suffer and did nothing.

never apologised for being the reason he almost relapsed.

laughed at his interests.

didn't visit him in hospital.

took her anger out on him.

undermined his abilities to do even basic things.

basically told him to shut up multiple times.

ruined his life.

confessed her love to him after all of the above.

ladies and gentleman, the fucking audacity!

[theficpusher]

If This Is To End In Fire by Jiksa | E | 4306 Apocalypse makes it sound a lot more glamorous than it actually is.

It's Been a Minute Since I Called You by winterschild | nr | 5336 “Hi, mum. It’s been a minute since I called ya. I know you won’t get this, but I’m going to leave a message anyway.” He didn’t want to feel alone. In order to cope with grief, Louis has been paying for his mum's phone so he can leave her voicemails to calm him down. One day, when he forgets to pay her bill, the number disconnects and is later given to Harry Styles, a baker with a kind heart. On a drunken night, Louis leaves another voicemail, but how will Harry respond to this man, who sounds so broken? OR This is a self-indulgent, Louis centric fic about grief and a very kind person who takes concern for the small Doncaster boy with a somewhat broken heart.

Always Keep You Next To Me by lululawrence | nr | 8325 Louis jumped when the passenger side door opened and Greg somehow folded his entire lanky frame into the car. “Hey, thanks for waiting for me,” Greg said with a small smile before buckling up. “Do I get the honor?” Right. Louis couldn’t drive safely with Will’s remains in his arms. It was just ever since his mom had handed the urn over to him last night, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to let it go. He’d even curled up around it on Will’s childhood bed as he called his cell over and over again, just to hear his voice once more. Fuck. When Louis' twin dies, Louis decides to take the birthday road trip they were meant to take together with Will's best friend Greg instead. As they both mourn Will's death and celebrate his life, Louis and Greg become closer and maybe start to heal a little bit too.

Keep Driving by dead_tobeginwith | M | 11726 The first time Louis picks him up, it’s raining. He slides into the backseat smelling like hospital, like plasters and cleaning products and burnt coffee. He shuts the door and leans against the window, folding his arms protectively across his chest. He sighs heavily and closes his eyes. There’s a crease between his brows. It must have been a long day. Louis feels it when one of his knobby knees starts bobbing an uneasy rhythm. Bad news, then. Or waiting for bad news. Sometimes purgatory is the worst kind of hell. Either way, he says nothing. Louis watches his breath fog the window in the rearview mirror. When he drops him at the station, there’s a little frowny face fading in the misted glass. _________ OR Louis works as a driver contracted through the local cancer institute. All of his clients are associated with the hospital—mostly patients and their families heading home. One rainy afternoon, he picks up Harry.

You Might Want to Marry My Husband by Rearviewdreamer | nr | 24528 When Harry’s husband dies, he asks one thing of him; to find love and happiness again without him. It’s a request that Harry is happy to disregard, until he meets the one person who is impossible to ignore.

like a timebomb ticking by infinitelymint | M | 31734 Louis loses everything. Harry's still there.

we should open up (before it's all too much) by disgruntledkittenface | M | 43129 “I’m not–” Harry breaks off, his voice strangled as he clutches his phone in his hand. He takes a breath and looks up, trying to keep the tears threatening to spill over at bay. “Louis, I’m not very good company these days. I–” “Harry,” Louis interrupts, his raspy voice soft and soothing. “I get it. Sometimes it’s just easier to be alone, yeah?” Harry nods, blinking back the last of his tears. “But it can get lonely,” Louis states. Harry nods again even though it wasn’t a question, finally looking back at him. “So why don’t we try being alone, together?” Struggling with grieving and depression since his dad died, Harry has never felt so alone. It’s too much to cope with on his own, but he feels like a burden when he tries to open up with people. Then he meets Louis.

Plant New Seeds in the Melody by 28sunflowers | E | 58700 After losing his husband in a tragic car accident, the last thing Louis needs is to keep running into popstar Harry Styles, who David was quite fond of. Obviously, that’s exactly what keeps happening. But as their unlikely friendship blossoms, Louis realizes that, maybe, having Harry in his life was the only good thing that came out of his adverse circumstances. Harry could be just the right person to help Louis find trust and intimacy in someone new.

shelter as we go by fondleeds | nr | 75094 Louis looks at him like his words might break him, glass about to splinter, one wrong footfall away from shattering into a million tiny pieces. “Hey,” Harry breathes, and he knows, meeting Louis’ eyes, that his words could break him easy as anything. He almost wants Louis to bring his boot down. - AU. Nova Scotia, 1968.

[bloodywickedlips]

Gift or a curse

Summary: Y/N was born with a gift, a gift to see the dead and when one ghost doesn't want to leave her alone she approaches the team with a message but it doesn't go as planned.

Now when you ask me sometimes and by sometimes I actually mean 99% of the time you keep to yourself and don’t speak up if you have the gift that I have.

But let me start from the beginning.

My name is y/n and we have a gift running in our family, neither my mom or my gran got the gift but my great grandmother had it, you see we can see and speak to the dead.

Its misunderstood in the world we live in, so we keep to ourselves and don’t talk about it, I learned my lesson with that one when I opened up to a then boyfriend and he freaked out on me calling me a freak and a lunatic. So after that I kept it to myself and never looked for a boyfriend again, he showed me not to trust any man with my heart.

But everywhere I walked they were there, trying to get a message to a loved on. At age 28 I had mastered the ability to shut them out when I needed to.

And on this morning as I was waiting to get a coffee I saw one of them, I made the mistake to look at her and she noticed. Since then she followed me around, constantly talking to me and trying to get me to respond. I shut my eyes and breathed out slowly as I shut her out. Breathing a sigh of relief I rolled my shoulders and continued with my day.

By the end of my work shift I was ready to let off some steam, and I knew the perfect bar to go to. My job didn’t make it easier as I was a nurse and there tend to be a lot of ghosts roaming around.

I stepped into the bar freshly showered and ready to have some fun but I would soon realize it would come to an end.

On drink number five I heard her voice again as I was dancing. “Please I know you can hear me, I need your help” she said and I rolled my eyes trying to just relax.

“Please help me” she said again and I huffed as I turned to look at her, she was pretty, and young.

“leave me alone, I can’t” I said to her and walked to the bar to order another drink. “You don’t understand, I need to get a message to someone. Please…” she desperately asked me and I stared at her.

“I’m just trying to have fun, and you ruining it” I said and then realized there was a tall black man staring at me strangely. I pointed to my ear which happed to have a earphone in, for cases like this.

“Friend is annoying me when I'm trying to have fun” I explained and saw him nod, not sure if he was buying it.

“You see I cant here” I said as the man walked away. “No please, I just need you to talk to him then I will leave you alone” she explained and I shook my head. “Sometimes its better not talking to them, it makes the grieving worse” I explained to her but she gave me a pointed look and I knew she was not going to leave me alone.

“Fine, who is it?” I asked and she gave me a small smile, turning she pointed to a group of people. And here I was hoping it was someone sitting alone drowning in their sorrows.

I drank my drink quickly and walked over to the table with her right next to me.

“Excuse me? Can I talk to you for a second?” I asked the guy and watched as he turned to face me.

Tall, beautiful brown eyes…no golden eyes with dark circles around them. Brownish hair that looked soft to the touch and a calculating expression on his face.

“Is something wrong?” he asked me and it took me a few seconds to get my head on straight.

“Yes, no I mean no. nothing is wrong, I would just like to speak to you privately” I said and looked around the table to see all of the group was staring at me, including the black guy from the bar.

“No sweetheart that’s not a good idea” the black man said and I arched my eyebrow at him.

“No problem” I said and turned to go back to having fun but the girl was standing in front of me.

“You didn’t even try…please” she said and I hung my head in annoyance. “For fuck sakes” I said to myself and turned back to the group.

“I have a message for you, so please if we could talk alone” I said to the man again and that’s when everyone went stiff and looked at each other.

“Who are you?” the blonde lady asked and I rolled my eyes. “Please I am just trying to enjoy my night, I have a message for him and the quicker he hears it the quicker I can be left alone” I said and gasped as suddenly I was pulled backwards, my hands behind my back.

I was being handcuffed and led out of the bar. “What the fuck, get off of me!” I shouted not understanding. Everyone was silent as I kept screaming and trying to get loose but nothing helped and twenty minutes later I found myself in a private room, handcuffed to the table.

I looked around and saw the girl standing there and glared at her. “You could have told me they are FBI then I would have approached them differently” I hissed at her and saw her look down feeling bad.

“Who are you talking to?” a voice said and I looked up to see an older gentleman walk in with a case file, mine probably.

“Someone who needs to give more information” I replied and watched as he sat down.

“You are something very different, you have a record. You told the police three times where bodies were, without an explanation and each time you were let go cause they couldn’t pin you to any of the murders, so tell me how is that possible?” he asked me with a hard stare and I shook my head.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you” I said and he sat back while crossing his arms. “Try me” he countered and I banged my head on the table not believing this was how I was going to spend my night.

“Just let me talk to the tall one, then you will understand and let me go” I pleaded but he wasn’t giving in.

“I have a message for him and only him, send him in or let me go home” I said to him but he wasn’t doing anything. I got angry and swiped my case file off of the table and gasped as he took hold of my wrists, it sent a shock through me and I groaned in pain. “Stop…stop please” I cried out as I saw the flashes behind my own eyes. He let go and I tried to slow my breathing.

“I just want a peaceful life” I whispered out and felt a tear run down my cheek from the pain I experienced. “Then tell me the message” he said and I looked over to the corner to the girl.

“Thomas merton” I replied what she said and watch hotch frown and a few seconds later the door opened. “What did you say?” he asked and my eyes met the brown ones. “Thomas merton” I said again and saw him go still.

“How, how do you” he trailed off and I closed my eyes for a second and looked at him again. “Because I have a message for you” I said and followed his every move as he walked over and sat down.

“Reid you can’t…” the older man said but he shook his head. “Please I need to hear this” he said and the older man nodded and left the room.

“How do I know this is the truth?” he asked me and I looked to the girl again. “Spencer, you are spencer Reid” I said and he shook his head looking desperate. “That’s easy, google” he replied coldly back to me.

“Thomas…” “I KNOW THAT!” he shouted at me and it made me jump. “Let me finish” I said and started again. “Thomas, she can never take him from the two of you, Diane I mean. Not your mother Diana, you read a lot and your IQ is very high.” I said and he looked bewildered. “What did I never say back over the phone?” he asked and I waited and sighed as I replied. “I love you” I said and saw tears well up in his eyes.

“It’s her…” he said and I nodded softly “Maeve yes, she is here” I said and watched as the tears fell down his cheeks.

“She wants me to tell you she is okay, there is no pain and she is worried about you. You bought something recently and she doesn’t want you to relapse. Things didn’t work out but she is always there, watching” I said and sat and watched as spencer broke down into sobs.

“I’m sorry Maeve, I didn’t save you” he said and I shook my head.

“No, you did everything you could. She is proud of you after everything but she doesn’t want you to harm yourself, she wants you to be happy, find your happiness again” I said and looked at Maeve to see her smiling with own tears running down her cheeks. “Tell him I will always watch but I need to go now, if he feels down he should read our book” she said and I took spencer’s hand in my own.

“she is ready to go into the light but she will always watch over you, and if you are sad read your book, the special book” I said and watched as his eyes widened. “No she cant go yet…” he said and I smiled sadly. “It’s time spencer” I said and he nodded sadly. “Tell her that I love her” he said and I smiled. “She can hear you, and she loves you too” I said and shuddered as I felt her cross over into the light. “Is she?” he asked and I nodded softly and watched as more tears run down his cheeks.

“Spencer she had the message for a reason, and she wouldn’t stop until I gave it to you” I said and he wiped his tears knowing I was right. He stood up and unlocked my cuffs. “You can go” he said and I laughed lightly. “I wish I could but I have one more message” I said and he looked over to me curiously. “From Haley, she’s here for Aaron” I said and knew I was in for a long night as I experienced her pain for myself when Aaron touched me.

[cultofdixon]

Life or Death, Dixon

Daryl Dixon [PLATONIC] • She/Her Pronouns • Youngest Dixon Sister!Reader • It’s always these messy arguments that lead them into messy situations…let’s just hope neither of them have to die for it • ANGST/SFW • TW: Arguments / Gun Violence / Suicidal Tendencies Mentioned / Injuries / Violence / Scar

Requested by: Anon

“Are you seriously still mad at me? It wasn’t just me!”

“Yeah a grieving mother and a fucking ex-tyrant. The perfect team with little miss flight risk”

“I’m your fucking sister and you talk to me like that?!”

“Merle called you way worse!” Daryl snaps as he couldn’t believe he agreed to go on a run with his sister when he hasn’t completely wrapped his head around everything that had happened. The end of the Whispers war and the Reapers.

“At least I didn’t sleep with a fucking pyromaniac’s bitch”

“Hey!” He shoved Y/N to have her get the idea she went too far. But she wasn’t done.

“Seriously. You’re going to be mad about risking my life to save our fucking family when you rolled over on your back for a woman you fucked once in a cabin in the middle of nowhere just to get “inside it all” only for her and her own bitch to escape Maggie’s revenge. They’ve killed a good chunk of her people, Daryl!”

Daryl quickly whipped toward his sister dropping his crossbow and grabbing her by the jacket.

“At least Henry never my goddamn fucking sight long enough for him to get killed” He did it. He needed the last word and the last nerve wasn’t just struck but burned causing Y/N to instantly force him off storming off.

Then what happened next was a blur. Which led them here…

Bounded to wooden chairs and Daryl was the first to wake feeling his mouth was duct taped shut. If only he had duct tape during this risky trips with his bike, it is an easy fix type tool. But that didn’t matter in the moment as he tried to get a better look of his surroundings.

The place wasn’t familiar and once he understood that he quickly glance to his sister noticing the blood pooling from her temple. He didn’t know how long she’s been like such and the panic started to pool inside of him as he tried to make any form of noise to get his sister to react.

But it got someone with a familiar, enraged tone to emerge from the shadows showing the injured Reaper Brandon that had it out for the archer when his idiotic fallen group took him in.

“You weren’t easy to settle down. She definitely was” He laughs lightly as he with all his force kicked the chair she was bounded to watching her quickly sit up.

Y/N had a cut dangerously close to her left eye and it was swollen shut with that side of her face bruised as well. She had to be “put down” in order to be tied up. One can only imagine what they did to Daryl. She didn’t say anything when she rose her head given the pain and she thought if she tried to protest that the gun in the man’s hand would be used on them.

“You pinned my brothers and sister against each other back at our home. Killed big man and that bitch that got away really should’ve been in what…this your sister right?” Brandon grabbed her shoulders from behind her seat watching Daryl tense. “In her place. But you know…pinning siblings on one another make for better entertainment”

Daryl couldn’t say anything but with the way his expression almost always matched his emotions. At least in a way only another Dixon can read. Y/N turned her head toward the man she didn’t know when he rounded back toward her brother.

“What do you want with us? Your family’s gone”

“Yeah…so I need one of you to be” Brandon drops the gun he held onto the table in front of them watching them flinch at first. “There’s one bullet. I think you understand the rules if you’ve lived long enough”

Russian Roulette.

“You know he’ll just aim it at himself” Y/N scoffs spitting a bit of blood onto the table causing the worry and anxiety to build even higher inside her older brother. “Too selfless…”

“Yeah, but I heard y’all’s little squabble in the woods…he may still do what you say. But what are you going to do?” He smirks pushing the gun toward Y/N and taking out his knife threatening to kill Daryl if she didn’t pick it up. But once she did he didn’t retract knowing she would aim at him if he wasn’t going to keep a short leash on the situation.

“Judith gave yea Rick’s gun?”

“Until she’s ready”

“You know how to shoot a colt?”

“I think I can handle a revolver” Y/N laughs holstering it. “We are the only ones besides Negan that have used anything other than a gun. Thought she’d trust you with it more than me”

“You know Rick liked yea. It would’ve been you or Michonne holding that. Both of y’all’s mains not being a gun”

“Michonne is badass with a katana. I’m just a wannabe track and field star with an old javelin”

“So what I’m hearing is you want me to teach you how to use it”

I wish you didn’t Y/N frowns holding the gun in her hand watching Brandon grab her brother by the hair forcing his head back and bringing his knife to his jugular if she didn’t take aim.

The second she aimed it at Daryl, Brandon backed off knowing she was pissed about their argument and finally putting a permanent end to such.

“Life or death, Dixon”

“I choose life, Merle” Y/N rolls her eyes at her eldest brother as they were on the roof he was currently chained on. She decided not to leave him as she watched the vehicles that got the others out flee the city to their camp.

“You chose death here, pumpkin. By staying with me while the walkers flood the building and gain a sense that there’s fresh meat on the roof. You’ve always risked your life”

“For my family.”

“So what are you going to do”

Choose my family. Y/N gripped the handle on the gun, clicking it to load or not load the bullet and right as her finger rested on the trigger.

The two froze watching her quickly aim it to her temple and Daryl fought against the restraints while Brandon stood a bit in shock that she would do such even from what her brother said that he didn’t entirely understand.

Then the gun fired

A thud met the floor

And silence grew in the room causing Daryl to hyperventilate filling the emptiness as he had shut his eyes when he heard the gun fire not wanting to open them.

“You seriously think you’re going to end up alone?” Carol accused Daryl after he had told her about this Leah woman. “As much as not everybody finds a romantic soulmate. There are platonic ones out there”

“I’ve been accused by Y/N that Rick was mine. So I really am gonna end up alone”

“Seriously? Did you forget about the other name in that sentence? Let alone forget that I’m right fucking here?” Carol laughed at such receiving a confused look from her friend. “You still have a family, Daryl. And as much as the world pushed both Dixons into the earth to show them a piece of its mind…Y/N ain’t going anywhere. It will take a real nuclear ending for her to say goodbye to her life. She’s never leaving you, Daryl Dixon”

She’s your blood Daryl felt tears spring in his eyes as his body flinched to the couch of a comforting hand that when he opened his eyes he was met with Rosita’s worry filled expression.

“Aaron told us about his crazy experience being…sort of kidnapped. When you and Y/N didn’t come back when you did…we had to make sure you were alright” She states carefully taking the duct tape off as Daryl quickly whipped his attention to his sister getting cut out of her restraints by Aaron while she also set the gun she held on the table.

The gun was freshly fired. But her end wasn’t met.

Rosita had taken out Brandon and that was the gun fire that out sounded the fire that Y/N triggered. But again, her luck in russian roulette was there this time around.

“You need help standing?” Aaron asked as Y/N shook her head giving out a soft ‘thank you though’ when he went to check their surroundings outside.

The moment Y/N rose to her feet, Daryl brought himself over taking her into his arms caging her a bit. She kept herself cemented at first trying to keep up her front when Daryl has already cracked after what happened. It wasn’t until Rosita gave her a look that led her to give the Dixon siblings a moment of privacy as Y/N sobbed softly the second she left and latched onto her brother.

“You could’ve died…” Daryl stated as the group started their journey back to Alexandria. Y/N just shrugged at him. “Seriously?”

“What? If it was Merle, I wouldn’t hesitate to shoot his bitchass.”

“‘M just glad yea didn’t eat a bullet” Daryl wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she opened the barrel and started laughing like an idiot.

“Bro I would’ve met fucking Merle in hell” Y/N showed him the next shot was the bullet as Daryl instantly swiped the weapon from her. “Hey! Imma need that”

“Nah stick to your sharpened stick shit. Shouldn’t have trusted yea with drugs when you were six. Ain’t trusting yea with a gun now”

“I didn’t take the drugs!”

“Whatever”

[ai-megurine]

HOTD S2 episode 2 "Rhaenyra the Cruel" reaction

• This OST! Djamin Rawadi is a god

• Can we appreciate Aegon's friends? Staying with him despite the state of madness he's in and closing the door to make sure he has some privacy

• oh so that shot of Aemond was him realising that he was the target!!!!

• I'm sorry I'm not that sympathetic to Alicent's tears? I just wish we could see more of Helaena grieving. I love the dress though

• ALICENT B&C IS NOT ABOUT YOU

• Otto shut up.

• Get Tom an Emmy, an Oscar and every single award in the world. His "what?" of disbelief to Otto stuck with me, dunno why

• In love with Larys' entrance. No one notices him until he speaks, he's in the background. Perfectly suits him

• "Bitch Queen of bastards" lmfao

• Love that the Council is shutting up and just letting Aegon rant. They're all scared of him in a way

• Who knew I'd ever be happy to see Larys?

• "I'll kill him myself" feed him to Sunfyre pls. Or Shrykos

• Aegon losing it every time Otto speaks is such a mood

• Jasper Wylde has a lign! Who knew.

• "We know our enemy!" with the little hand thingy was funny, I'm sorry

• Tyland!!

• "you're already seen as weak" oh fuck you Otto

• Why would anyone think that Rhaenys committing mass murder means Rhaenyra should be Queen???

• Aegon "my little son's body" broke me.

• Alicent calling Aegon "my darling" was sweeter than I thought.

• oh so Helaena can be a spectacle but not you??

• HELAENA MY LOVE

• LET ME HUG YOU

• DAEMON WHEN I CATCH YOU

• BALERION HIMSELF COULDN'T PROTECT YOU

• Oh my lord she's holding Jaehaerys' clothes 😭😭😭

• She's grief personified I can't breathe

• Phia is an angel

• THE TEAR ON HER CHEEK

• AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH the "I don't want them closer I don't know them" breaks me. She's my angel, I will fight the world for you

• ALICENT WHO CARES YOU'RE BANGING COLE. IT HASN'T BEEN 24 HOURS SINCE JAEHAERYS DIED

• "This is for my boy" AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

• The toy horse 😭😭😭😭

• The music is so good

• (when did they have the time to make all the uniforms and banners??? Sewing ladies have been doing overtime)

• Blood IMMEDIATELY giving up all the information was low-key funny but it really showcases who he is. A big bully who uses his strength to hurt people weaker than hip (women and children) but the second he's caught? He folds like a coward.

• Lmfao Larys' face. Even he was like "damn dude I didn't even start"

• Who the fuck is the herald? I thought Otto would be the one doing this

• OH MY GOD THEY SEWED THE HEAD BACK?????

• ANGEL, BABY, I LOVE YOU

• DAEMON I WILL KILL YOU MYSELF

• The little circlet on his bead 😭😭😭😭

• why barn owls on the shroud? I mean it's Helaena and she's flawless so I like it anyway

• So the death of Jaehaerys has FINALLY been acknowledged as kinslaying as well

• Blood's face when he understands that Aegon is coming and that it's going to be painful

• Noooooo, I wanted more pain for Blood

• Oh no my girl being so overwhelmed. She's in pain 😭😭😭

• Oh Rhaenyra's reaction to B&C

• I mean why wouldn't they accuse you? Like? Bestie? Who would it profit to kill Aegon's heir?

• Is Daemon actually smirking???? This man istg

• Rhaenys immediately knew, this woman is too good for these people

• Rhaenyra's realisation

• "Killing it"??? IT???? WOMAN.

• DON'T YOU FUCKING LAUGH. If you felt any ounce of remorse, you would be screaming in rage about it

• "you have wounded me" BESTIE A CHILD DIED WE DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR STANDING

• JFC the way she reacted when he broke that glass!!! She's obviously scared, it's definitely not the first time.

• Emma the actor that you are. Rhaenyra looks ready to rip Daemon's head with her bare teeth (which she should do, it would be iconic)

• You are a monster dude

• Oooh that silence

• "because of your virtue" hshshsjsj

• Bestie Viserys named Rhaenyra heir out of grief and guilt

• "You're pathetic" is so iconic, love it

• Baela exists! That coat is atrocious though

• So no risking Jace but Baela is fair game huh? Bitch (and I don't even like Baela). Good scene though

• Behold, Daemon runs away from his family

• HELAENA STILL DOESN'T HAVE A GUARD???? WHAT???? AEGON HAS TWO HE COULD SPARE ONE

• Oh god her and Aegon. Grieving, broken, but unable to connect. I feel like she wanted to reach out in the stairs, but he runs away because he's on the verge of breaking down and be can't have that in public.

• The nodding???

• NOOO THE BED

• I mean, I know it's better but

• Oh god the mattress covered in blood

• The juxtaposition with Rhaenyra being with her son is heartbreaking. The way she realises that this is what Helaena lost, that Jaehaerys was that age

• ALICENT STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU BANGING COLE NO ONE CARES

• Also Cole should be guarding Helaena and Jaehaera

• The religious trauma of consensual sex

• I wished the Alicole storyline would take less screen though, I mean good for them but that mess of a relationship shouldn't overshadow Helaegon's doomism and greek tragedy right now

• Cole needs to stop beefing with the rest of the world, Arryk isn't responsible for it

• Love Arryk for calling out Cole

• LMFAO THE OTHER KINGSUARDS NOPPING OUT. Valid ngl

• YOU'RE MAD SER. Love him

• Cole's hypocrisy is a delight. He's a terrible person, but he's so interesting

• Why don't they use poison though

• Laenor being mentioned? Neat. Him teaching the boys about fishing and Sea Shanty is pretty fun

• Damn that scene is actually good!! A shame I couldn't care less about Baela and Rhaena

• Oh so that's the famous brothel scene?

• Aemond's mummy issues on fill display 🙏🏻

• I love the relationship between him and the madame ngl. Like I know he pays her for it but her gentleness with him seems to be at least partially genuine. Her facial expression when he doesn't look at her are pretty telling

• Hugh Hammer the return! Fuck if I care but hey, I'm not against them developing the Dragonseeds. I wish Nettles was around too. I guess Hugh will join TB after his family's death? Or he'll be a spy for TG? Dunno

• So we know Baela ends up with Alyn, and he looks so much bigger and older than her 😭 Like it makes sense but DAMN

• I genuinely cannot begin to care about Corlys to save my life

• WAIT RHAENYRA DIDN'T KNOW WHO MYSARIA WAS???? THIS IS SO FUCKING FUNNY

• Mysaria being a good character wasn't on my bingo card but I don't dislike it

• Seasmoke following Addam around like a lost puppy is so funny to me. Also his sounds are so cute. I guess Laenor died off screen?

• The focus on the smallfolk is great. It reminds me of Varys' quote about the smallfolk always being the one to suffers.

• Cheese didn't suffer enough and I wish that dog a very nice "find a better owner"

• "Oh, I had them hanged" is so fucking funny.

• Otto is right, though. Like, this was a terrible idea.

• Ooooh mentioning Jaehaerys was a dumb move. You should Aegon isn't going to be rational about it

• Aegon, you can show strength by, you know, USING YOUR DRAGON. Honestly a public execution of Blood would have been better

• Otto's "wtf" face is so funny. I love him. Tom and Rhys are carrying this entire episode. Phia too, but she's less present

• Otto, do you REALLY think Aegon gives a single fuck about Viserys???

• Otto being fired for upteenth time is so funny. This man files for unemployment every three weeks

• Otto's last act of defiance was great

• Yeah, Mysaria isn't exiting the show

• Oh, that's how she'll stay

• Elinda Massey exists!

• I'm glad they didn't make Rhaenyra fight Arryk like some believed. It makes much more sense for her to be genuinely scared for her life. Like, Arryk is a grown ass man in armour and literally one of the best knights of his time

• They deserved better

• Otto unknowingly dissing his daughter's bf right in front of her was peak irony.

• "Petty revenge"? A FOUR YEAR OLD CHILD WAS DECAPITATED

• FUCK YOU ALICENT. Your son isn't "valuable", he's YOUR SON

• DAERON MENTION!!!!!!!! VICTORY!!!!!!!!

• The generational trauma of zero communication 🙏🏻

• Aegon sobbing and breaking down

• Nooooooooooo

• My love

• Let me hug you

• He's so beautiful

• A fallen angel

• CRISTON LEGIT SITTING ON HER BED WAS SO FUNNY LIKE WHAT

• HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN WAITING

• ALSO WHO IS GUARDING HELAENA

Conclusion :

Tom is a god, Phia is an angel, I will start a cult for Ramin Djawadi. The acting in general was top notch, but Tom and Phia have ascended to god-like.

Helaegon's doomism and Greek tragedy will be my death, I love them your honour.

The focus on the smallfolk was very good, and I hope they do it for both sides.

[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC: WHAT THE FUCK, FENTON

I think I've seen something like this somewhere before but I'm also not sure so if there is already something like this, I'm sorry.

WARNINGS: Mentions of Character Death and Grief, Implied/Referenced/Suspected Child Abuse, Depression and Self-Harm? (only implied, but non-graphic) IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING, I PROMISE.

Danny Fenton was dead.

At least, that's what everybody in Amity Park was told after something happened in Fenton Works. Maddie and Jack Fenton insisted that Danny was dead and that a ghost was responsible. Danny's friends and Sister were weirdly quiet though, but not grieving.

No.

Grief was never an emotion that Dash Baxter saw on any of their faces. Instead rage took it's place. A rage that seemed to be shared by Mayor Masters who sudddenly started cracking down on housing laws, regulations, and other issues. He changed is mind of 'Ghosts are the enemy' to 'Ghost Hunting is no longer permitted' much to the annoyance of his "friends".

Dash didn't understand what was happening, what happened to Fentur-Fenton, or why the all the sudden changes but what confused him most was how he felt about it. When he had gotten the news he felt physically sick. He missed two full days of school just because he felt sick. When he went to school and heard some wanna-be A-Listers spreading rumors about how Fenton was in a bad place and had just taken himself out.

Before any of Fenton's friends could even think about shutting them down Dash shut them down by breaking one of their noses.

A few days later he sat with Foley, Manson, and Valerie at lunch. They were surprised and asked him what he was doing there while his friends acted appalled but Dash didn't reply and just put his head down on the table. It wasn't until near the end of lunch that Dash finally spoke.

"I'm sorry... I'll try to be better... for Fenton."

This surprised all of them. Even Dash but what surprised everybody even more was when he started to cry. In the end it was Foley who came over and put his hand on Dash's shoulder.

Nothing was said, but it was enough to comfort Dash and leave him with more questions.

Why weren't they the one's crying? Their best friend had died and they were comforting him? This was bullshit! He didn't even like Fenton!

Right?

It was later that year when Casper High went to Gotham City for a football game against Gotham University. The game was going well until half-time when Star approached them while they were on time out.

"Um... hey guys not to totally like throw off the groove or anything but... isn't that Danny?"

Every member of the gootball team and the cheerleading squad turned to where Star pointed and Dash's eyes locked onto a familiar black haired, blue eyed kid in an expensive uniform. Dash had a split second thought of 'There's no fuckin way that's Fenton. Maybe a look alike?'

But then the kid shrank down slightly between two other teens one with curtained black hair and one with darker skin and Dash knew.

Dash threw himself towards the fence, climbing over the fence and onto the bleachers as Danny held up his hands and stood up quickly. He was pale and anxious, the two teens with him looking ready to fight as Dash grabbed him by teh front of the shirt in front of his whole school.

"WHAT THE FUCK, FENTON?!"

"D-Dash! I can explain, I-"

Danny started rambling out a frantic and bullshit excuse but Dash was just hearing static, ignoring the two teens next to them telling him to put Danny down. Dash then hugged him with a pissed off growl while Danny went stiff.

"We thought you fuckin' died, Man. What the hell..." He whimpered, tears burning his eyes as Danny relaxed and after a moment hugged Dash back.

"Sorry, Dash."

Dash was about to yell at him more when he heard Mr. Lancer shout out.

"TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD, WHAT IS HAPPENING, BAXTER?!" Dash let Danny go and gestured for the teacher to see which was when Dash heard his teacher actually swear for the first time ever. "What the fuck?"

"H-Hi, Mr. Lancer..." Was all Danny could say as an awkward reply.