#then the joy of the truth being free and wanting to shout about it

[illgiveyouahint]

Who are you, Ino?

[faeprincesswarrior]

Who is Elain Archeron?

Elain is the seer for the Night Court, as well as sister to the High Lady, Feyre Archeron, sister-in-law to the High Lord, Rhysand, and sister to Nesta Archeron, warrior.

She is one of 2 cauldron made individuals in the entirety of Prythian and the mortal lands.

She is someone who sees the good in everyone, volunteers to help others, lives with kindness, and embraces change.

She works to help others after the second war with Hybern in an effort to bring more joy to the world through teaching people how to cultivate and tend to gardens.

She offers a helping hand and nurtures others, such as when she saddles up Feyre's horse in ACOTAR and packs supplies for her.

She welcomed Feyre back home despite the fact that Feyre was now high fae, and Elain had been taught to fear high fae her whole life.

She is humble, despite being noted as a great beauty, and is gracious towards others, often making friends everywhere she goes.

She is highly observant and makes use of her observations in important moments such as when she encouraged Feyre to be kind about Winter Solstice and noted that people had died to preserve the right to have those traditions.

She is thoughtful and on several occasions goes out of her way to get gifts for people that she thinks might help them or make their lives better, such as when she gives the twin wraiths, Nuala and Cerridwen, plush blankets in ACOSF. She also gives Nesta a book from her favorite bookstore and gives Azriel headache potion, which she had made for him, based on her observation that everyone always gives him headaches.

She is also able to meet the moment when needed. She was the one who convinced Nesta to help Feyre and the IC during ACOMAF and allow them to meet the human queens at the Archeron Manor.

She is the one who shouted a warning to Feyre during ACOMAF that Tamlin was trying to forceably take her and winnow away despire the great danger she was in and fear she felt.

She was the one who offered to go to Grayson to ask for his help in providing safe haven for the humans in her former village, despite the pain of seeing him.

She used her visions to kickoff the search for Vassa, who was integral to winning the war.

She was the one who offered to use her sight to find the Suriel to help Feyre during the war in ACOWAR.

She kicked the hounds off of Azriel despite being chained and encouraged Briar to jump on his back to escape the war camp.

She was the one used her visions to prevent Hybern from killng Cassian and Nesta by stabbing him in the neck using Truth Teller. She may have also wielded shadows and used Truth Teller to its full capabilities in order to clear the battlefield and make it to Nesta and Cassian in time.

She shows her love and care for her family, even when they are unkind or when it is difficult for her. She often prepares meals for them, and she designed Feyre's birthday gift and made a point to acknowledge Feyre's role as the foundation of their family, which further shows her observation skills and humility.

She volunteered to continue scrying to help the IC find the Trove despite the Cauldron luring her away to danger in ACOWAR because she wants to help her family and her court. Even after Nesta interfered to disallow it, Elain confidently asks that they find her when they are ready.

She is brave and has shown a willingness to act for herself, take the reigns of her own life, be independent, and free herself of patriarchal traditions that dictate she is another fae male's property due to a mating bond she did not ask for and actively does not want. And she does this all while recovering from being groomed by her mother and trained to be a people pleaser.

She will not let a mystical, corrupted cauldron control her life or make her choices and will take risks to live her life on her terms.

She processes her trauma, her pain, and her sense of loss after being turned against her will and having her bodily autonomy violated by taking her time to feel her emotions and grieve in her own way. She healthily makes it out on the other side of her pain and settles into her new life even though it is not the one she chose for herself.

Her visions about heartbeats are widely believed to be about the Dusk Court, and her visions about a black box are theorized to be about Koschei, both of which will be integral to future ACOTAR books.

She has shown a keen ability for stealth and secrecy, both traits that are highly prized for spies and by the spymaster of the night court.

She is not afraid of people's darkness and often makes friends with people who are surrounded by shadows.

She can make Azriel feel seen, calm, and understood without needing to say anything, and even he notes that she knows how he feels and why he does the things he does without him needing to say. She makes him laugh with a joy and fierce happiness in his eyes that one of the people closest to him had never even seen.

She brings light and joy to his eyes, and he has stayed up all night to listen to her talk and has chosen to sit with her in companionable, comfortable silence. She is who he wants, who he thinks of at night, and who he will choose.

She makes Azriel question his religion, his customs, and his high lord.

She is who he will beg on his knees for. She is who he will fight for.

She is the woman that calms his shadows and makes him feel safe and brings him peace.

She is the one he will choose, his chosen mate and life partner, and together they will change their culture and their lives.

And that my friends is facts. Sorry but a ribbon and a sassy one-liner is not erasing this.

Elain Archeron, kindness incarnate and Azriel's future.

Art by Termesart

[whenthegoldrays]

TOP TEN EUNEUN MOMENTS (according to me)

10. Festival scene

The perfection of this scene, Eun Gyeol at his down-baddest and Eun Yoo putting on a brave face while literally going through some of the most distressing moments of her life, and their being kept apart by the (very understandable) misunderstanding and just. wanting to reach out and be comforted but staying behind those barriers. Chef’s kiss.

9. “Tears in Heaven”

The significance of his singing to her, singing this song specifically because it’s part of the connection they share and don’t realize yet, plus the lyrics being so peculiarly perfect for their situation. And the tenderness in his eyes! (This scene is also enhanced by Eun Gyeol’s later conversation with Mr. Choi.)

8. “You’ll be born just fine”

A tiny moment but so perfect because not only does it show off Eun Yoo’s slightly unhinged sense of humor, it’s also a perfect establishment that they are, in fact, on the same page now. And their facial expressions absolutely sell it.

7. “Under one condition”

This is technically a moment between Eun Gyeol and Yichan, but the fact that Eun Gyeol told Eun Yoo he hated her all of three minutes ago and is now publicly declaring his love for her in front of the whole school (and exposing himself to everyone’s anger in response) is simply too iconic and hilarious and to me, wraps up the essence of the show’s character dynamics flawlessly.

6. “Ajumma???”

Their delivery lives rent free in my head, and they just. hate each other so much right here. Kind of a delight.

5. Once more around the block

Am I overly attached to this scene because of the soundtrack playing over it? Maybe. But the way he cares!!! They’ve had the most emotionally and physically exhausting day and then they get this moment to calm down, for Eun Yoo to lie her head on his shoulder and for him to let her rest undisturbed for a few extra minutes. And!! she goes along with it, because she likes his nearness.

4. “You have three seconds”

The layers and layers to this scene. Both of them pushing their own agenda, both of them wary of the other, both of them YAPPING. The way Eun Gyeol goes from oblivious to apologetic to scared for his life to flustered to baffled in the span of like 45 seconds. And the chemistry is chemistry-ing.

3. “That’s the real me!”

My deep and abiding love for this exchange. Eun Yoo calling back to the pool scene and possibly expecting another fake answer, and Eun Gyeol answering her immediately. He doesn’t have to think up an answer anymore, he knows when he started liking her, he knows why and how, and the truth — that he likes her for her, not for her assumed identity — is so blindingly beautiful to her that she can only shout for joy.

2. “I’ll take my time figuring it out”

Obsessed with everything about this scene, from the callback to the last lightning storm, to Eun Gyeol’s promise to both help Eun Yoo get home and also make sure to draw out their time together as long as possible, to the tension. The longing. And the way the scene is structured around what you’d expect to be the most important part — but instead it draws a curtain of privacy around that moment and leaves the emphasis on his promise and how important and heart-fluttering it is to her. Add to that the beautiful OST and Eun Gyeol dancing down the street in joy and you’ve got a perfect scene to feed my mental illness.

1. “Let’s just stay together”

You knew it was coming. I love few things in this world more than a romantic rain scene, and this one deserves the world for so many reasons. The bigness of their emotions leading up to this moment — her whole plan and perception of her past has been shattered, and she runs away in distress, and he runs after her! He runs through the airport in desperation, he can’t lose her. They’ve been yelling and fighting and sobbing and everything feels like so much, but when he finds her everything slows down, everything can be still and he can just speak honestly. He wants to stay with her. The objections don’t matter. What matters is he wants to be by her side. He wants to shield her from the storm. And she takes his hand and stands up again and suddenly everything is a little less bleak, a little bit warmer. Plus Master watching them in satisfaction that they’ve found their helper? CHILLS.

[hawkinsindiana]

i’m not gonna leave you here

ALMOST PARADISE: PART FOUR - CHAPTER NINE OF NINE

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 4.8k

a/n: i have returned from the dead to drop this lil nugget of a final chapter. literally bat shit to think i have been writing this shit for FOUR YEARS! thank you to those of you who have continued to support my writing even through all the droughts. i definitely needed time to step back from tumblr so also a quick kiss to the few that sent me sweet asks checking up on me ily ily!!! writing this story has truly brought me such immense joy i feel ridiculously grateful to the ones that have decided to READ THE WHOLE FRICKING THING!!!! anyways..... thank you thank you thank you and i hope to see you for s5 >:)

masterlist

“What are you thinking about?”

Your voice filters into Steve’s mind, reaching him through the anxious worries he’s been so focused on beneath the reporter’s drawl on the television. The back of your index finger glides gently across the line of his jaw, helping to coax him away from what made him cast his gaze down towards his socks. His skin is smooth under your own, freshly shaved and moisturized to perfection.

Steve’s eyes shift to you, who’s comfortably tucked under the weight of his arm. Your irises are as warm and inviting as ever, quietly beckoning him to divulge. He grins lightly as the answer reaches the tip of his tongue.

“You.”

The only reason he’s so blunt is because he wants to see your reaction — a brilliant smile that fades into awe and pure love. He feels your body melt further against him as you try to play it off with a rather endearing roll of your eyes. Steve’s sure that some joke about him being a sap rattles around inside your pretty head, but it never comes to fruition. It must be the look on his face that keeps words from escaping you because once again, your gentle eyes silently plead with him.

He bites down on his lip before anxiously darting his gaze across the room; this is the last topic of conversation he wants to bring up, but it keeps shouting at him from the depths of his mind. Before Steve gets the chance to speak, you reach over to take his free hand between yours, lightly massaging his tired knuckles. The crease in his brow softens.

“When are you going back to the city? I know you weren’t supposed to leave for another week but…” 

Steve pauses like he’s carefully choosing his words. His hand, which you’ve dragged to your lap, shifts to intertwine a few of your fingers together. He swallows harshly, “I don’t know, maybe that’s… changed. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to go sooner.”

It was this morning that Steve remembered what the initial plans for Spring Break were. Just over a week ago, you two had been excitedly swapping ideas about what to do with all of your free time. But now, he can barely remember what any of them were. The only thing that crosses his mind is the intense and gut-wrenching desire to keep you close, but simultaneously out of harm’s way.

You blink in surprise as a deep inhale is pulled into your lungs. In the wake of all the destruction your actions have caused, it’s hard to imagine leaving Hawkins without attempting to rectify what you’ve done. In comparison, your education seems like the least important thing in the world right now. But then again, who knows how long it could take to hunt down Vecna once more? 

He’s still out there… you can sense it, burrowed deep in your soul. It’s the same feeling that told you the Russian code was more than a transmission — a feeling that’s grown into more than intuition or anxiety, but rather the upsetting truth that you know intimately how the Upside Down works. There’s more to come and soon; when it does, you want it to be the last time. 

You’re tired. You want to rest. You feel like every ounce of courage you once had has left your body. You’re terrified to plan anything that could backfire again. But you want your family safe. You want Steve to be safe. These horrors have plagued you long enough. They’ve stolen so much of your life from you. 

You’re angry. 

It scares you, but you know that there won’t be a sense of closure until you watch the life leave Henry’s eyes — whether by your hand or someone else’s, you don’t particularly care. 

Are you willing to see this through to the very end? To do what it takes to get the life you crave?

“I don’t… I don’t think I can go, Steve,” You mutter, “At least not until this is over.”

Confirmation washes over Steve’s face — the slight lift of his brow and the sigh he expels says it all. As he cards his free hand through his hair, he speaks.

“Yeah, I was afraid you were gonna say that.”

Suddenly, you realize his reaction was not one of reassurance and relief, but rather disappointment.

Steve’s arm slides to the back of the couch as you sit up straighter. Your voice is a bit more stern, straddling the line between genuine confusion and vexation, “What, you’d rather have me leave?”

“No, no,” Steve replies immediately as his anger suddenly begins to churn. It’s not directed at you, no, but at the mere thought of having to watch you drive away from him. Selfishly, he wants you by his side at all times. He wants to turn to you for support whenever he needs or offer you his shoulder to cry on at a moment's notice. Whether it’s healthy or not, Steve cannot imagine himself without you. He needs you now.

But hurt is starting to cloud over your irises; the slightly cold and calculating look Steve knows will impale him through the heart if he doesn’t act fast to clear this up. Maybe a different approach would be best considering you both are so high strung at the moment. He shouldn’t have assumed that you’d want to leave right now — that much is clear.

Steve has begged you to leave Hawkins more than once; now it feels more like a matter of life and death.

He sighs and re-adjusts, moving from a laid-back posture to one of thought and concern. He wants to lean in closer even though you’ve shifted away, but decides to reach for one of your hands instead — you don’t recoil from his touch. Your gaze stays locked on his face, analyzing every micro expression so you can attempt to understand.

“God, of course I don’t want you to go, baby. I never want to be away from you ever again,” Steve begins softly, gently holding your hand between both of his, “I just…”

He stops again, recognizing that your face has slightly relaxed due to his tone and touch. Something in him withers knowing that his instinctual reaction and initial question prepared you for a fight he never wanted. 

And then that image and sensation flash through his mind again.

Your cold skin. The whites of your eyes. The weight of your limp body in his arms. Overwhelming grief — the kind he’s only read about in your books. Emptiness. Fear. Longing. Pure, unfiltered anger.

All of that was real. Steve didn’t know he could feel something so strongly. He never wants to experience anything as intense as those feelings for the rest of his life, unless it’s his love for you. That’s an exception he’s willing to overlook.

“I can’t do… that again.”

You see it too; the pain in his eyes that’s lingered since returning home. You’ve noticed it every time he looks at you, as if it’s the last time he’ll see your gentle smile. He’s touched your bare skin with such intention it’s addicting and branded kisses onto everywhere he can reach. The most beautiful words have fallen from his lips — how excited he is for all of this to be behind you, how lucky he feels to be a part of your future. 

You did this to him. Even if it couldn’t be helped, you still damaged him. For the first time, Steve Harrington has felt truly desired. You want him for more than just his body or his parents’ money. With you, he finally has a life in front of him; one that promises fulfillment and unabashed happiness. 

You understand his fear perfectly. You sigh too, your hard exterior cracking instantaneously.

Defeated, you nearly pout as you murmur, “And I’m not gonna leave you here, Stevie. I don’t care how long it takes.”

You don’t have to say anymore for him to accept this fate. If you’re willing to give up your education over this, something you and Steve have been discussing for years, then he knows you’re set in your choice. He understood how much it meant to you to leave Hawkins then, but now you’ve made the decision to stay and fight.

How could he have asked you to leave in the first place? It would hurt you just as much. With the phones still down, there’s no telling when he would get word to you about his or your brother’s safety. If there’s one thing Steve doesn’t want, it’s for you to be living with uncertainty as cruel as that.

“I know, I’m sorry,” He frowns as you shuffle closer again and relish in the warmth of his palm against your cheek, his fingers deftly tucking a few stray hairs behind your ear. How fortunate is he to have someone who’s unwilling to leave his side?

He continues as you turn your head to kiss his wrist, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You tut softly with forgiveness, despising the feeling of a disagreement no matter how small it is, “No, I understand why you did. I mean, all of this has been so…”

No other words come to mind, so you chuckle in disbelief instead; you’re relieved Steve’s frown quirks up at the sound, his hand dropping to clasp both of yours now. He loves the varying texture of your skin; he could get lost for hours exploring it, even though it’s already committed to memory.

“It makes sense why you’d want me to go, even if you don’t want me to.”

You’re glad Steve’s arms open up for you when you worm in closer still, now awkwardly pinned to his side; when you press your cheek to his shoulder, you can practically feel his love for you radiating like his warmth. The soft fabric of his sweater against your skin is an added comfort you can’t quite describe. How lucky are you to have someone as dedicated to your safety as Steve?

A smirk crawls across your lips as all four wandering hands finally settle somewhere in this embrace, “What a shame I feel much safer when I’m with you, hmm?”

It’s half-hearted sarcasm, of course; a playful jest that has Steve’s chest rumbling a bit in soft laughter, “Yeah, what a shame.”

He’s more uneasy than he was before.

—

If it weren’t for the plumes of smoke billowing up into the clouds, this would be the most gorgeous day of the year. Selfishly, a part of you wonders if there’s still a chance you and Steve could sneak off to the lake and drown in sunlight. On second thought, given your previous visit, maybe you aren’t willing to go swimming anytime soon.

It’s hard to confront the consequences of your failure. For many, this cataclysmic event was the final straw — dozens, if not hundreds, of families have continued to flee. As Steve drives through the suburbs, you watch a father frantically loading the trunk while the mother lifts their toddler into the car seat. On your street, there was a home left abandoned with the front door wide open. 

Continuing into town, the destruction grows more severe. The flames from a gas station have finally been contained. The diner you and Steve used to frequent has been reduced to crumbles, the neon sign shattered against the pavement. Your eyes linger on it a bit too long, heart aching that you’ll never get to return; Steve’s grip on your hand tightens.

As gut-wrenching and upsetting it is to see the carnage, nothing prepares you for what washes over you upon entering that hospital room.

A different type of guilt pools in your stomach — nausea that you’ve grown used to over the past few months. It’s unmistakable as the sight of sterile white plaster and bruised skin floods your vision.

“The doctors said it’s… pretty much a miracle that she survived,” Lucas says, continuing his explanation of that fateful night as he returns to Max’s side. His hands remove a book from his chair before sitting down — he must have been reading to her. More pain echoes in your chest.

You wish you could’ve visited sooner. When you received his call on the radio this morning, another wave of emotion made itself known. After everything, you didn’t make sure Lucas and Erica were safe. You didn’t bother to check on the others. All that mattered to you was if Steve was okay, if Dustin was. They’re not the only family you have in this fight anymore.

As Lucas goes into more detail about the events at Creel House, your brain grows cloudy from thought. The older they’ve gotten, the similarities between Lucas and Steve have made themselves more apparent; they’re fiercely loyal, unapologetically kind, gentle, and compassionate. But a striking similarity is their willingness to get bloodied and blue to protect the one they love.

Lucas has come to you many times over the course of the last couple years seeking advice over Max. Not only does he trust you and your opinion, but you and her also share many similarities. You both can be incredibly stand-off-ish and suspicious of others, but those that prove their worth are given a plethora of love and care in return. If Lucas asked you for help with his love life, he knew you’d never steer him wrong because you understand the one he’s tried to woo — whatever you worked worked every time. Well, except for the last time.

Steve knows it’s the reason why Max’s involvement in all of this chaos has been weighing so heavily on your conscience. In your mind, if you had done more to help her, Vecna never would’ve seen her as a viable target. He hates to think of the alternative, that the fourth victim might have been you instead, with guilt loud enough to beckon that monster closer. But one way or another, Steve nearly lost you. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to come to terms with that fact.

You can’t help but reflect on how close you were to a similar outcome. If Steve hadn’t reacted as quickly as he did, maybe you’d be in another room in this hospital, your love wrought with worry and fused to your side until you woke. Maybe your body would be enclosed in a wooden box and buried beneath a willow tree, an abundance of flowers curling around your headstone — peonies, probably. 

Your love is mirrored in theirs. But made clear is the fact that you and Steve have gotten lucky. You never thought you’d look at your life and consider any part of it to be more fortunate than someone else’s — a flaw you understand to be incredibly selfish and blind. You still have your twin flame, burning brightly in this room with you and a kind of warmth felt even with a lack of touch. 

The other pair has dimmed, one of them too weak to fight anymore.

You want to help again. You need to help again.

“Can you…” You whisper, wrapping your fingers around Steve’s arm as you pull yourself closer to him. You glance back to the Sinclair boy, noticing the desperate way he clutches the redhead’s hand. 

“Can you gimme a minute alone with him? Please?”

Concern immediately blossoms in Steve’s chest with your request. Knowing that your last attempt to support Lucas was ultimately in vain and a heavy burden on you, he’s not super keen at the idea. But Steve also knows you. You’ll find some way to help the boy either way, and he’d rather it be here in this room than during a moment of danger and desperation. Whatever it was you said to Max seemed to have helped her — maybe this will be different. Steve nods, remaining silent as he answers.

Clearing his throat, Steve turns to Erica and Dustin and gestures to the hall, pulling a couple of loose dollar bills from his pocket. He mutters something about the nearby vending machines and ushers the two of them out of the room, closing the door while flashing you a brief look. You’re not quite sure what he’s feeling, but you can’t imagine you’re particularly easy to read right now either. Between the pair of you, there’s enough compartmentalization happening to last a lifetime. But keeping a straight face in front of the others isn’t quieting the raging thoughts as well as you thought. Instead, you can feel them building — your fault your fault your fault.

As you sit in the chair beside Lucas, you can’t figure out where to begin. He doesn’t seem to blame this on you; if anything, he’s being too hard on himself. There wasn’t much more he could’ve done to try and keep Max safe, but you’re confident that’s not what he needs to hear right now.

“I, um… I almost didn’t make it back the other day.”

It takes a moment for Lucas to register your words. His eyes drift to you upon the realization, but you quiet his concerns before they ever make it out of his mouth, lips parting to speak.

“I’m fine,” You mutter. A lie, of course. The skin of your throat is still tender to the touch and there’s a roughness in your voice that hasn’t faded. If you think too hard, it feels like the tendrils have returned, crushing your esophagus more and more with each second. The fear kicks in again, until the face of your rescuer greets you out of the darkness.

“But Steve, he…” You pause, forcing yourself to avert your gaze from the boy because you see too much of your love in him. A younger version perhaps, a soft reflection in Lucas’ bruised eyes, but enough that your heart grows heavy once more. You shake your head gently, a wobbly breath falling from your lips.

“I’m only here because of him. I wouldn’t have survived if it weren’t for Steve. I don’t know what-”

You immediately stop yourself, refusing to consider the alternate outcome any further. You shove it away deep into the recesses of your mind. When you finally look to Lucas again, you don’t have to say anything else for him to understand what it is you’re trying to tell him. 

For a while now, Lucas has wanted what you and Steve have. Everything about the two of you… seems perfect. Even though he knows you haven’t always had good times, that doesn’t matter to him. He had hoped maybe Max would want that too.

But now?

Lucas nods silently, fully embracing the support you offer. There’s still hope. The road may be difficult, but he can’t let this be the end for them.

“She said she wasn’t ready.”

“Hm?”

“Max,” He clarifies sadly, his demeanor rapidly shifting to one of sorrow, “She said she wasn’t ready to die.”

Immeasurable grief swarms you. The air is drawn from your lungs as the hefty weight of his words burrows deeply into your soul. It’s the final nail in the coffin that solidifies your shame and remorse. You feel numb.

—

There’s a steady stream of people that filter into the school from the parking lot; it seems that you’re not the only group in Hawkins that felt inclined to help those affected by this disaster. Numerous boxes packed with all manner of clothing, toiletries, and other necessities line the walls and coat the tables. Resources are passed around to those who need them while the rest is organized to be distributed around town to multiple relief sites. Those that were displaced and can’t afford to leave rest on the various cots sprinkled throughout the gymnasium. It’s a bit overwhelming to say the least. 

After Steve’s recruited to fold donated clothes, one of the volunteers leads you away.

“How do you feel about being around kids?”

“I think I could handle that, yeah,” You say, forcing a somewhat warm smile to pull at your lips. She gestures towards a young girl, no older than six, fiercely clutching a well-loved stuffed elephant between her soot stained fingers. 

“Her house was destroyed, just torn right down the middle. We’re trying to find her parents,” The woman whispers, her hand touching your shoulder gently in gratitude, “But still nothing.”

You sigh, feeling your throat tighten, now able to put a face to all the destruction you and your friends weren’t able to stop. You approach the girl by asking if you can sit with her, to which she eventually nods at you with tired and exhausted eyes. When you introduce yourself and ask her for her name, she shifts a bit, “Erica.”

“Erica, huh?” You smile again, “I have a friend with that name. She’s pretty tough and strong.”

With your comment, the girl turns her head toward you; her skin’s coated with dirt and dust, hair a touch matted up. There’s a bit of blood on her forehead too.

“Is she like She-Ra?”

You can’t help but laugh a little at her reference. You pretend to think about it for a moment, even bringing your finger up to your chin to sell it further, “I think she’s more like Firefly. You know, from My Little Pony?”

Your answer brings a slight grin to her face; it simultaneously warms and breaks your heart. You put your hands down onto your knees, trying to remain as casual and maternal as possible, “What do you say we get you cleaned up? Would you like that?”

Erica nods before she grabs your now extended hand and uncurls herself from the plastic chair. As you start to walk forward, one hand wrapped up in yours and the other still tightly around her stuffed animal, she freezes unexpectedly. Her eyes are darting between the seas of people milling around, anxiously unable to focus on anything. You crouch down, meeting her eye line once again. 

“I get nervous around a lot of people sometimes, too. I can hold you… if you want.”

Erica nods quickly, reaching her arms up for you to lift her. It takes a bit of effort ao you don’t anger your back, but you manage to settle her onto your left hip.

The added closeness seems to comfort her as you continue forward, taking a moment to grab a spare plastic bag. She’s a bit harder to carry than you expected, but now’s not the time for you to complain. You wander through the tables, picking out anything that you might need to get her freshened up. The longer you walk, the more she begins to speak, telling you to grab certain items that she likes — a butterfly hair clip, some berry scented chapstick. You even make time to stop by the snacks to grab her something to eat; Vickie makes her a strawberry jam sandwich when Erica tells you she’s allergic to peanuts. She gobbles it up quickly, smearing some of the jelly onto her cheek, which you wipe it off with the back of your sleeve. Your smile grows more genuine the longer you spend with her.

Steve thinks he nearly has a heart attack when you eventually stride up to the clothing table, this small child latched tightly to your side. You look so at ease with her head resting against your chest, whispering little comments that manage to engage her amidst all the chaos. At a quick glance, this child could be your daughter. Her eyes have a similar hue to yours — even your noses are similar. His brain starts to go quite fuzzy the longer he spends watching the two of you together.

“What’s your favorite color?” You ask Erica as Steve hands you the small pair of folded sweatpants, underwear, and socks you point to. The girl hums for a second, adjusting her grip on her elephant, “Green.”

“Good choice. I like green too,” You answer, focused intently on her as you shift your arm to hoist her further up your side. Steve watches you with this kind of dumbly adoring look, lips pulled back in a small but optimistic smile as he gets lost in a daydream.

He sees flashes of you, curled up on the couch wrapped in blankets with your children — your children. Yours and his. He sees the smile that spreads over your face on their birthdays, the sadness in your eyes when one of them gets sick, the anger you feel when they mention they’ve been bullied at school. 

He sees the road-trip summers with your baby girl — little Marcie Harrington, maybe a younger sister too. He nearly swoons at the thought of your family taking in the sights at Mount Rushmore, the redwood forests, even the Finger Lakes. He imagines you wrangling your daughters in front of the Moab arches while he tries to figure out the damn timer on the camera; he ends up accidentally taking three pictures of himself before finally getting it to work. Then the two of you are splayed out in the sand on some beach while your children nap in the RV — you’re clad in that stupid red bikini you keep taunting him with, your warm and exposed skin practically irresistible. Steve looks at you fondly before leaning over to give you a big kiss under the Californian sun, so incredibly thankful for the life you’ve been able to build together.

“You got any green, Stevie?”

He blinks once, then once more; the first for snapping him back to reality and the second for the nickname. He clears his throat, trying desperately to forget about the blood that rises in his neck. He looks around for a moment, forcing the dream from his mind as he searches for something small enough to fit the girl in your arms. You watch him almost knowingly, like you could picture the same images behind your eyes.

Eventually, he finds a couple of options and holds them up for the girl to pick from; she’s made up her mind from the first one he shows her. Erica gasps, hand immediately shooting outwards to grab the small tie-dyed tee with wide eyes. The pink and green gradient twists and turns across the fabric, clearly enthralling to a child her age. 

Her enthusiasm takes you by surprise but it’s a welcome one; you chuckle a bit before speaking, “Oh, that’s a nice one. Good choice.”

As she puts the clothes into the bag, you smile across the table at Steve, effectively punching the air out of his lungs. You casually address him, “Thanks, baby.”

Trying to regain some of his composure, he winks at you as he starts refolding the other shirts, “Any time, ladies.”

Before you get a chance to reply, Erica’s desperately trying to wiggle free from your grasp. The moment she touches down onto the ground, she takes off in a full sprint and gets scooped up into the arms of a couple — you instantly understand this to be her mother and father. The girl looks like a perfect mixture of her parents, maybe more like her dad. It’s hard not to let their reunion warm your veins, the relief in all of their joyful sobs making your eyes a bit misty. You don’t particularly care that she left without any thanks, knowing that her and her family are back together is more than enough.

“You’re good at that.”

Your gaze moves back to Steve. In this light, his eyes are as soft and warm as liquid caramel. He rests a sweater on his shoulder — a gentle smile curls his lips. A bashful expression washes over your face as you feel blood pool in your cheeks, the underlying meaning of his words bringing back a hint of hope inside your chest. You can see your family too.

A flash of red breaks you from the comfort Steve’s attention brings; both of your faces drastically warp as you glance out the window, a very familiar feeling washing away any source of happiness. You find yourself frozen as you stare up at a rapidly moving cloud of smoke. It spreads, expanding large enough to cover the expanse of blue sky until none of it remains. Crowds begin to flock to windows, watching in awe while you and Steve join them, soon joined by Robin and Vickie. White particles begin to gently fall, earning a few shocked noises from the onlookers. You sigh as Steve’s hand finds yours, a silent solace; you both know what this is.

“An earthquake and snow in two days?” Vickie says in a moment of innocent disbelief.

The worst kind of dread rolls over you, the kind where you know that this is only the beginning. Everything that’s been happening has been building to this. You hate to spoil her childlike wonder, but as another bolt of red lightning cracks through the sky, you can’t help it. 

“That’s not snow.”

—

[cookiegirlsstuff]

hii i would like to request lee!taehyung and ler!jungkook

where basically taehyung keeps bothering and messing with the members because he's bored and has too much energy but when he tries to do it to jungkook the tables immediately turn

thank you<3

The price for being bored (TickleNovember day 4)

Lee: Taehyung

Ler: Jungkook

༘⋆♡⸝⸝⊹。°˖➴

Taehyung has always been known for having a lot of energy. Even after an intense day of dance practice, he wasn't exhausted enough to rest.

Instead, he would run all over the dorm and bother his members.

First he went to Jin, who was cooking dinner. He poked the eldest in the side a few times before running to his next victim, giggling.

Yoongi, who was sleeping on the couch. Taehyung crept up quietly, and before Yoongi could wake up, he poked his nose a few times.

The black-haired boy woke up in surprise and sneezed loudly, looking around searchingly.

“Kim Taehyung! Get back here!” he shouted, but since he was too tired to chase after the tiger, he lay down again.

After successfully waking Yoongi, he ran into the leader's room, who was working as usual.

Grinning, Taehyung wrapped his arms around the leader's waist and began to tickle his stomach lightly.

Namjoon hadn't expected this and broke out in a giggle fit. But just as quickly as Taehyung had arrived, he disappeared again.

Namjoon was known to be very good at Revenge and Taehyung had to escape at all costs.

So he made his way to his soulmate Jimin's room. He was playing a video game with Hoseok. Perfect prey.

2 birds with one stone!

In one swift movement, Taehyung began to tickle Jimin's sides up and down, causing him to drop the controller and squirm on the floor, giggling.

“Thanks Tae,” Hobi said happily, but the joy didn't last long, because after Taehyung had tickled his best friend thoroughly, he turned his attention to the rapper.

“Please Taehyung. We can talk about it,” Hoseok pleaded, but Taehyung pinned the older one down and spidered his hand mercilessly over his stomach and armpits. The older one squirmed under him helplessly but was quickly turned into a complete giggling mess.

“You'll regret this,” grinned Hoseok as he managed to break free, but before he could get hold of Taehyung, he had already run off.

Now only one was missing: his favorite maknae Jungkookie.

The younger one was watching a series on his laptop and didn't seem to have noticed the lurking danger.

Without making a single sound, Tae crawled towards the younger one. But when he could almost grab the bunny's foot, he suddenly jumped off the bed and pinned Taehyung down, arms over his head, before he could even realize what was happening.

You wanted to tickle me, didn't you?” he asked with a smile as he pushed Taehyung's arms down even further.

“Of course nAHAHAT!” Taaehyung tried to get out of it, but Jungkook noticed immediately and thrilled his thumbs into the hips of his hyung.

“Tell me the truth,” he insisted and began to tickle his victim's tummy mercilessly.

"I'M SORRY!", Taehyung pleaded and trashed around to get free but the bunny was a lot stronger.

“I still don't hear the truth,” Kookie grinned, alternately poking Taehyung's left and right sides.

“Okay, okay. I wahahanted to tickle you!,” the tiger admitted, but still couldn't do anything other than giggle his little heart out.

"There it is", Jungkook smiled and slowed down a bit but it still tickled Tae a lot.

“And where exactly?” he asked triumphantly while Tae still tried to catch his breath.

“On your feet?” Taehyung said, although it sounded more like a question.

“Good,” was all Jungkook said before sitting down on his hyungs legs, taking his feet in his hands and sliding his fingers up and down the sensitive soles.

“Kookie pleahahase! I'll do anything!” whined Taehyung, somehow trying to free his feet.

“I don't need anything right now,” Jungkook laughed and teasingly scribbled Taehyung's soles.

“Jungkook!I DIHIHIDN'T EVEN TICKLE YOU!”, Taehyung tried to argue, but failed miserably.

"I don't care", Jungkook said and started to play with Taehyung's toes which were surprisingly tiny.

Taehyung doubled over in laughter, pleading, begging and trying everything to escape that ticklish feeling, but nothing worked.

"Will you stop annoying us now?", Jungkook asked, a hint of challenge in his voice.

"Yes! I WIHIHILL", Taehyung said and pulled his feet away, the moment Jungkook let them go.

“I hope so,” said Jungkook and left. He left behind a red, sweaty but happy and finally exhausted Taehyung.

[strawhatsoraya]

hi sunshine! how are you? hope everything’s good and you’re doing fine! sorry if I might sound too cheesy but I absolutely adore the way you write, everything you post I eat it up immediately and the fact that you do this for free? you’re a gift, so I was wondering if you’d like to write this scenario (exclusively if you’re comfortable and interested in doing so) it’s NSFW for shanks with a F!reader (there is just something about him that is so damn attractive) and it’s about her being maybe part of the crew or another pirate (your choice), we know his crew and him are not particularly interested in treasures and money, and I would think the one they have are obtained similarly to what the strawhats do and not by raiding cities, and I would imagine shanks to not be interested in jewelry so he lets his crew take what they want for themselves with the only exception that he always calls dibs on the most gorgeous necklace he can find, the crew knows this and it’s cause he absolutely LOVES to adorn her simply cause he adores her and gift giving is one of his love languages, what they don’t know it’s that what he loves even more is fucking her while she’s wearing nothing but that necklace. that’s it, oh bonus point if you make him like madly, deeply viscerally in love cause I think that man would be the kindest of partners.

Have a wonderful day and do not feel pressured to write this if you simply don’t enjoy it <3

I'm not even going to attempt an apology because there is no apology that could justify me letting this be in my inbox for 7 months. LMAO. I simply just have not been writing as much as I was. I'm hoping to correct that. Please know that it wasn't that I didn't like this idea. I was and am obsessed with it. I'm just mentally unwell~~ lmao.

ANYWAY. HERE IT IS. idk if you're still on tumblr, or long gone, but either way I had fun writing this. Thank you for sending this great idea months and months ago.

SHANKS X FEM READER / NSFW word count: 6.5k (i know i know, but what can I say, it's shanks) content warnings: nudity (duh lol), vaginal penetration, biting, scratching, there's some shower shenanigans, unprotected sex (they are pirates and live dangerously), pretty straightforward, have at it. A SUMMARY: nope.

The truth was, he should have let you go a long time ago. Let you fall to the bottom of the ocean along with all the ships he had sunk, with all the drowned men he had no sympathy for. He should let you go, but you are like the ghost of his arm. On hot humid nights, he wakes up with an itch on a forearm he can’t scratch so he tosses in bed, dreams of you–of the hand he can’t touch you with.

Shanks never cared about treasure, not even in his early youth. He was happier watching his men divvy the spoils among themselves. He’d take their laughter as reward, watch the joy in their faces and know that he had conquered more than just another pirate, more than just another adventure. He had conquered life itself. 

Yet, he thought derisively, he could not conquer you.

But he knew what swayed you. He knew the light in your eyes that’d shine like beacons at the sight of jewels. How broadly you smiled while counting gold coins. He adored that undeniable air of superiority that’d keep your shoulders high when he’d slip ornate gaudy rings over each of your long tapered fingers. Shanks loved the sight of your delicate neck draped in gold chains, although he thought nothing beat the sight of his own fingers wrapped around it.

He hid his obsessions behind his smile. Some that he wasn’t proud of, but then, there was you, sitting on the edge of your bed, smooth legs crossed neatly over each other; his pride hanging by a thread on the curve of your cheek.

Not that he’d ever tell you.

The din outside the bedroom is loud, as it’s bound to be. Two pirate crews getting together, one being mostly composed of men while the other women, was surely to have interesting results. You ignore the shouting, and the cussing, the laughter and the start of badly played music accompanied by badly sung party songs. After all, it wasn’t often you were honored by Shank’s presence. You needed to make sure to take it all in.

Your dark eyes size him up, from the top of his flaming red hair, to the bottom of his feet–sandal clad and characteristic of his blase persona. His size alone was enough to intimidate most but you had him moaning in your ear too many times to count to let the broadness of his shoulders deter you. 

“Fancy seeing you in these waters,” you find the words to speak. They are heavy on your tongue, and sound annoyingly childish to your ears. You hide the urge to grimace by widening your smile. Shanks had the power to make you feel like a schoolgirl; unsure, and giggly and absolutely stir crazy about him. You shake your leg repeatedly, as you toss your hair over your shoulder, your curls suddenly feel suffocating around your heated neck. 

“Did you miss me so much you had to go out of your way?” Your voice is strained and high pitched. You hate it. You want to claw your throat out, but he smiles at you knowingly–as if he could read every stupid thought in your head and suddenly, you want to claw his face out instead. “You shouldn’t have.”

You try to sound light and airy, teasing–maybe even condescending, but your voice is still off. It brings heat to your face. You try to hide your embarrassment by laughing, and turning your head. You cover the lower half of your mouth, and glare at the nearest clothing rack. On it are the latest additions to your wardrobe, expensive silks and slinky low cut attire; everything you could think of that he’d like and never seen on you.

“Is it so hard to believe?” he asks you, his tone friendly and warm. You swallow thickly, unspoken confessions sticking dangerously to the walls of your throat. You think you’re choking. You think you’ll die then, and he stabs the wooden stake right through your heart when he speaks next: “We’re friends after all. Of course I’d miss you.”

That word bleeds into you. It spreads like ice, like venom throughout your being. Friends, because that was the only option among pirates. Friends, because the other choice was enemies–and could two enemies ever fuck like you and him? You suck your teeth and cross and uncross your legs. You adjust your seated position on the bed, while the crowd outside your bedroom continues to get louder. Although you’re avoiding his gaze, you feel it skim over your skin. You feel fire over the slope of your exposed shoulders, feel it over the swell of your breasts. 

Friends did not look at each other the way he did. 

“Well,” you interrupt his thoughts. Shanks blinks as he watches you uncross your legs again. He is mesmerized by the size of your plush thighs. His fingers twitch as he reigns in the impulse to reach out, to grasp one of them tightly. You stand up abruptly. “You have shitty timing, as usual.”

Shanks blinks, before he laughs with a soft shake of his head. “Really?” he asks and points his thumb behind him at the door. “With the party going outside I thought this was as good a time as ever.” 

He approaches you, and you immediately stiffen. Shanks tries not to laugh. In place, he snorts quietly through his nose. His hand reaches for one of your hips. His strong fingers dig into flesh as he brings you flush against him. 

“Come on, Doll,” he murmurs against your cheek. His breath is scalding against your brown skin. It’s like being kissed by the sun. You smell sake in his breath, almost taste the sweetness of it. “I sailed a long way to see you. Don’t you think our reunion should be a little sweeter?”

The slap against his chest is enough to stagger him backwards. You slip out of his space, trying to find your dignity along with your breath. Inside your chest, your heart runs at a neck-breaking pace. 

“Estúpido,” you hiss at him, hands immediately going to your heated cheeks. “I’m not candy. You expect too much,” you tell him, turning your face to raise a brow. You try to read his expression over your shoulder. His hand slips into the pocket of his trousers. “Especially when you come back empty handed.”

“You think so lowly of me,” he complains although he smiles. His hand rummages in his pockets. You hear the clinking of a metal, and your body turns around completely before you can help it. “When have I ever come back empty handed?” As his last words reach you, he pulls out a gold necklace from his pocket. You immediately count eight amethysts beads in various sizes. Wrapped around the necklace is a fine woven chain with gold spears that dangle from the base. 

You approach him, and reach gently with one hand. As you hold a golden spear on your fingers you see the sconce light of your bedroom catch on the tiny little diamonds embedded within. Shanks grins down at you. He sees that light in your eyes and feels a fire in his belly. It breathes life into him. 

“You should have started with that,” you quip, your plush lips pursed together. He is sorely tempted to grab your face and kiss you. He almost puts up a fight. His hand grips your cheeks together, and he lands a noisy peck on your mouth. You resist, so he comes back for seconds and thirds. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” he laughs as you slip away from his grasp, taking the necklace with you. You make a big show of wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. “Oh, see?” he gestures at you, with his brows scrunched up together. “Now you’re just trying to hurt me.”

“You’re a brute,” you snap, tossing your head again, finding your frizzed out curls currently insufferable. It was hair wash day, and Shanks was getting in the way. “Have you even showered?”

At the interrogation, Shank’s gaze shifts from your face to your body. It lingers momentarily on your breasts, before he drags them slowly back up, leaving you breathless. You hiccup. 

“I–” you start, and your bottom lip quivers. Heat pushes you down to the ground, tethering you to the fire in Shanks’ eyes–one that is threatening to quickly consume you. “I was going to shower when you got here. That’s what I meant–”

Shanks steals your thoughts, and your common sense. He invades your space, his hand easily finding the comfort of the small of your back. He rests it there on the top of your ample backside. Sneakily, or at least he thinks so, he squeezes the top of one ass cheek. 

“Is this your way of asking me for help?” He leans forward to press his forehead against yours. “Let me help you. I’m very good at it.” You think, it should humble you, the way he’s lowered himself enough to reach your height. You think, surely, this should be enough, mean enough. That you should not crave what he cannot give; false forevers and promises written in fool’s gold. 

But you’d be a shit pirate if you didn’t dream at least every now and then.

You turn away wordlessly, and he follows quietly behind you. Inside the bathroom, he shadows your movements, his hand placed lightly over yours as you remove your clothing, and you drop the necklace over the pile of clothes. There’s a feral hunger lurking inside you, wanting you to tear his clothes off but you push past it and into the shower. You can’t see him, but you feel him grinning behind you, feel his predatory gaze sizing up your naked body. You close your eyes under the warm water coming out of the shower head, letting it soak your hair and body while you hear Shank’s clothing drop to the floor behind you.

Cleansing your body becomes a complicated task when Shanks is involved. He swears he’s helping as he slips a soapy hand between your legs. You bite your lip as his callouses brush against the sensitive skin of one inner thigh. 

“I have two hands,” you hiss as you swat his hand away. You hear a sharp inhale behind you, and his breathy laughter hot against the back of your neck. 

“All you do is try to hurt me,” he murmurs dramatically. His mouth grazes against your skin, the prickle of his facial hair against the sensitive spot behind one ear is enough to elicit goosebumps all over your body. “Are you showing off that you have two and I only have one?”

You stammer despite yourself. If you could take it all back you could. You hope the steam rising in the shower is enough to hide the color blooming on your cheeks. You turn around and fall into his embrace. Water ripples down the grooves of his chest muscles. They skimper along every ridge of his abdomen. Your hands slither smoothly over them, taking in every inch, and memorizing them until you could see it clearly behind your eyelids. 

“No,” you admit at last. Your hands are on his neck, as you pull him down gently towards your face. “I know you do enough damage with one hand as it is.”

You press your lips against his hoping this would be enough to shut him up. His hand feels like fire on your lower back. He brings you closer to him, pressing you against his pelvis. You feel his cock stir and grow harder against the softness of your lower belly. If there is any doubt left in you, Shanks takes care of it by slipping his tongue inside your mouth. The kiss is feverish, and messy. A slippery sense that is only heightened by the hot water sliding down your face and his. You bury your fingers in his flame colored hair, pulling him even closer against you.

Kissing you like this was clouding his senses. Being a captain of his own crew, placed him in the position of making most of the decisions. Something about the way you touched him, kissed him, looked at him–always made him want to relinquish control.  Still, he preferred to have you in bed, where he could have you at his mercy. Your mouth was hot against his neck, as you lowered your hands over his body. Shanks bites down on his lower lip, as your fingers wrap themselves around the girth of his cock. 

His hand shoots out to grab a handful of your wet curls. 

“Now who’s the one doing damage?” he asks in a whispered growl. 

You look up as he tugs on your hair, and almost wish you hadn't. His swollen lips, the ones you had passionately kissed as if you’d never get to taste him again, made him look disheveled and broken. That paired with the clouded look in his eyes, the heaviness on his eyelids, the slight flush on his cheeks was making your heart ache.

You press your lips together tightly, seeking control.

Your stroke is treacherously slow. You squeeze tightly, enjoying the feel of his thickness inside your hands. His lashes flutter close, and you watch him tilt his face up, watch the water drops slide down the expanse of his thick neck. You continue to stroke the thickness of his shaft, every now and then twisting your hand around the tip of his flushed cock just to hear his breathing hitch–to pretend you have some semblance of control. 

“Feels so good,” a mumbled confession tumbles off his lips. You feel it swim around your head, blurring your vision. It slithers around you, touches you where no man has touched you before. “Keep going. Don’t stop.”

The heat between your legs becomes increasingly hard to ignore. You feel your heart pulsing at the center of you, as an undeniable wetness covers your folds. You reach out with one hand to cup his balls gently. When he murmurs your name, lips parted in silent ecstasy, you know you have to walk away first. 

You remove your hands, but not before dropping a kiss on the middle of his hard and muscular chest. 

“Wait–” he protests, trying to catch you. His large hand touches your cheek but you still turn away.

Water drips to the floor as you leave the shower. You ignore the towels nearby. Instead, you bend over well aware that Shanks was watching your every move. He watches the roundness of your ass intently as you bend over, and he gets a peek of that luscious center of you–that pussy he just can’t get enough of. When you stand up, the necklace is dangling from your slender fingers. He moves towards you, water dripping from his hair and his body to the floor. He reaches out for the necklace but you move quickly away from him.

“You’re being so difficult today,” he observes with amusement. “Not that you’ve ever been easy.”

He has to admit, you were very skilled at putting on jewelry all on your own. Still, he wished he had the privilege this time. Shanks would just have to get his reward in another form. Your naked silhouette walking away from him was surely close to divinity, in his opinion. The way your hips swayed with each step towards the bed was making him dizzy. He watches you even as you climb on the bed, slowly, naked ass in the air drawing him closer. 

He gives in to temptation. As he is prone to do with your companionship. When you turn around, dropping on the bed on your back, you inhale sharply at the look in his eyes; two burning fires determined to consume you.

Shanks moves with purpose. You had always admired the way he’d move so quickly in such a large body, barely making a sound before he would strike. There’s a sense of urgency that touches you gingerly at the base of your neck. Once again, you feel goosebumps scatter across your body.

“I think I’m very easy to deal with, actually,” you counter belatedly. “The picture of angelic behavior. How dare you.” He was making you nervous as he just waited there–kneeling at the edge of the bed. You tried to regulate your breathing as you laid your head on the ample amount of pillows you insisted on having on your bed. Shanks taught it a nuisance so you continued. You’d do anything to get under his skin–and stay there.

Shanks laughs at you as he starts to move. He slithers towards you like a large predatory feline, dark eyes and flaming mane of hair. The muscles of his shoulders ripple with his movements, and you feel your mouth water at the sight. You lick your lips, and swallow loudly. He must have heard you, you think with embarrassment, as a smirk stretches his lips.

“I dare,” he drawls, dragging out his syllables. He slides next to you, sliding his hand over the softness of your belly. “Because I’m the only one who would. You should be grateful,” he continues. You bite down on your lip, careful not to make a sound but your body is a traitor and shivers under the roughness of his hand. “That I’m such a devoted friend.”

There was that damn word again. There is a lump in your throat, bitter, and difficult to swallow. It almost chokes you to death as you push it down.

“Go to hell, Shanks. I don’t need friends like you.”

His laughter wounds you more than it should. You should expect this behavior from him. It was always the same. You parried his honeyed words with sharp remarks. A frail attempt at defending yourself and pretending you had no feelings for this Emperor of the Sea. He acted as if nothing you could say could hurt him, stop him, change his mind.

“Is that right?” he murmurs, his hand drawing slow large circles over your belly. Your legs move on their own. Your brows draw together as they slide apart, knees bending as you wiggle on the silk of your bedsheets. 

“Mmhmm,” you reply. Your response is weak, you know, but your breathing was becoming more ragged the more he touched you. Your heart speeds up when he leans over to drag his mouth against the skin under your belly. You grit your teeth when he bites that same space of flesh gently. “That’s right. I don’t need you, Red-Haired Shanks,” you hiss through clenched teeth. Your hand is in his hair, fingers tangling in crimson locks. “I don’t–” You gasp, thoughts interrupted as Shanks journey moves lower to your pelvis. He kisses one hip, and then the other.

“You were saying?” he asks, a low chuckle dying on the crook of your inner thigh. You close your eyes tightly as the feeling of his hot tongue dips closer towards the center of you. 

He pulls away, grabbing your wrist to untangle your fingers from his hair, as he sits next to you on the edge of the bed. This position makes you feel vulnerable–naked and laying on your back, as he sits up, looking down on you with your wrist still in his hand, both his feet on the floor; grounded.

Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop floating up in the sky. The sight of him above you, smirking down at  you victorious made you crave him all the more. 

“I don’t need you to need me either,” Shanks says as he brings your wrist to his lips. He kisses the inside of your wrist gently; once, twice. “As long as you want me. That’s good enough for me.” He pauses to drag his tongue over the inside of your palm. Shanks eyes look down at you, away from where he is pressing your fingers against his mouth. They linger momentarily on your neck, and on the necklace, on your exposed breasts. “The way I want you,” he confesses in a low voice, before dragging his wide tongue up your index finger and plopping it into his mouth.

He sucks on it noisily, and slowly, holding eye contact. You feel close to combusting. Fury, or lust, you’re not sure. All you know is heat, all consuming, scorching, blinding heat. You force your hand out of his grasp, and use it to squeeze his face between your fingers. 

“Shanks!” you hiss, breathing barely regulated. He watches you quietly, eyes dipping occasionally to your heaving chest. He loved the way the necklace looked over your breasts, the way the gold caught the light; how beautiful your skin shone underneath. A smirk begins to form, so you tighten your grip. “How much longer are you going to drag this out?”

There’s a touch of remorse in the back of his mouth; barely sour enough to make him grimace. He looks away from your pleading eyes to your neck, adorned lavishly in the necklace he had brought you. You looked so beautiful and vulnerable. He supposed it was time he did something about that.

“I thought you liked this game,” he mumbles with squished cheeks. Shanks holds your wrist again and pulls until you let him go. His fingers tangle with yours, and he lowers it against the  bed by your head. Your fingers twitch, unfamiliar with this form of intimacy from him. Shanks' face draws closer to yours. You smell his sweet breath, and try not to count every freckle and sun spot on his cheeks like some kind of sentimental idiot. 

“Enough,” you say. Your voice is whiny. You loathe it. “I’ve had enough. You brute. You insensitive–” Shanks cuts you off with a searing kiss. His mouth is forceful against yours. You mumble protests, unwilling to give up control entirely. His hand squeezes yours tighter as he pushes back, nipping at your bottom lip. 

His tongue runs along your bottom lip, your back arches and you finally give in. You wrap your free arm around his shoulders to hold him close to you, savoring in the feel of his tongue inside your mouth. He brushes his tongue against yours, saliva coating both your lips until shiny. He moves to drop light kisses along the shape of your jaw. His next route of conquest is your neck, and you wince at his greediness–the way he’s sucking without a care in the world, as if he wants nothing more than to mar your skin for everyone to see what he has done.

He moves quickly, releasing your hand. You gasp when Shanks adjusts himself behind you in bed, face immediately burying itself on the side of your neck.

“Stay still, Doll,” he mumbles against your ear. Another shiver takes over your body when he takes your earlobe in his mouth. “I’m just trying to get a good feel for you. It’s been so long, after all.” He murmurs all of this against your ear, his breath hot and moist making you hyper aware of all his movements; the way his chest pushes against your back, how he lets go of the breast he was kneading to allow his thick fingers to traverse lightly over the side of your torso.

He continues until he is over your hip. He moves against your ass, pressing his erection against you. You hum lightly, enjoying the feeling of him–how thick and large he seems. There’s a ridiculous sense of pride swelling inside you for being the reason for his arousal; you, of all the seas he has traveled and conquered, it is you at this moment and no one else. His hand hovers over one ass cheek before he’s gripping it, gently massaging and spreading you open.

A brow rises high on your forehead. Before you can question him, Shanks makes a decisive move. He slides his cock between your ass cheeks, thrusting his hips gently to stroke himself between them. His breath comes out in puffs against the back of your neck with every slow thrust. You feel his precum smearing itself on your crack. It is a strange sensation, and you are ashamed to acknowledge how aroused you are at feeling him in a place he’s never explored before.

“Shanks,” you breathe out shakily. “Is this enough for you?”

He doesn’t answer you immediately, caught up in the lewd sight of his cock sandwiched in your voluminous and juicy ass. His breathing is ragged, chest burning from repressed lust. Seeing you–being with you–was not a common occurrence. The last thing he wanted to do was rush through this and forget to touch you, kiss you, in a spot he had planned–in a way he had fantasized about over and over.

“For now,” he grunts against your shoulder, biting and licking soon after. “Just give me a moment. I’ll take care of you too.”

You press your head back against him, exposing your neck to him. Shanks takes the invitation wordlessly, kissing and biting up your neck as he continues to slide his cock between your cheeks. His moans are soft, barely audible, but you feel the rumbling in his chest against your back every time he does. It makes you hotter, wetter. You sigh, desperate to feel him towards the center of you. You bring his hand around to your waist, slowly sliding his hand up your belly until it reaches the bottom of one breast. 

Shanks smiles against your shoulder, where he bites down once more, eliciting a moan from you. “I know, Doll,” he mumbles, reaching for your breast as you had wordlessly requested. “You need more, don’t you? Always so needy. Always needing more,” his breath is hotter than your skin at the moment. It bounces off of it, as he twists your nipple between calloused fingers. You bite back another moan. “You’re never satisfied, but what can I say?” He pulls at your nipple harshly, making you cry out. “That’s what I like about you.”

He slips out from between your cheeks. You start to protest when he releases your breast. Shanks sucks his teeth, trying to silence you. 

“I said I’d take care of you, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your ear, using his hand to lift one of your thick thighs. “You need to trust me more.” You help him without thinking, keeping your legs open while he slips his cock between them. His hardness is pressed against your soaking pussy. Your folds are slippery against his length. You hear him grunt softly against your ear, his breathing irregular as he stays very still. You chuckle, aware that he’s stalling–buying himself time.

Shanks loved a long game. He hated to cut things short.

Yet, like you, sometimes he was impatient. He moves shortly after, thrusting between your legs. It starts slow enough, his breath coming in short puffs hot against your ear. You reach behind you to grasp his hip. He rocks into you as you gasp, enjoying how thick he felt against your pussy, how the tip of his cock–mushroom tipped and meaty–would rub against your clit just right at certain angles. You reach further back, twisting your body, to grab a handful of his hard ass.

“Come on,” you goad him, finding it hard to think much less speak. “Touch me where it feels good.” Shanks laughs against your shoulder, and bites down over a blooming bruise. Your moan is high pitched as you try to reign it back. Although the party seems to continue outside the room, you don’t want to run the risk of your own crew hearing you moan. 

“Don’t hold back,” he tells you, licking the teeth marks he left behind on your brown skin. “I’ve come a long way, you know. The least you can do is let me hear you fall apart.”

You grit your teeth, as heat wraps itself around your head. Your eyes sting from embarrassment, and what’s worse, is that you feel yourself dripping all over his cock, coating it in your arousal. You’re well aware he feels it too. It can be the only reason he picks up the speed, a throaty laugh echoing in the room. 

In an effort to even out the playing field, you reach between your legs and grab the tip of his cock. You hear him gasp next to your ear as you guide his tip to your clit.

“I said here,” you repeat, rocking your hips so you can rub your clit against the tip of his cock. “This is where I want to feel you.” Your toes curl at the sensation, at how pleasure seeps deep into you, tightening with intensity at every rock of your hips. Shanks stills his movements, and presses his pelvis tightly against your ass. Your whines drive him to the brink of madness. He feels them inside him, tightening around him, pulling at his navel filling him with pleasure. His eyes shut close as he lets you take control–or lose it, he’s not sure. You seem delirious as you chase your orgasm, rocking on his cock as if your life depended on it.

Your juices coat his shaft, and he feels them slip lower, trickling down his balls. He pulls you even closer with his arm wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Go on, Doll,” he encourages you, his voice low and seductive as it breaks through your higher pitched moans. “Take it if you think it belongs to you. Take what you think is yours.”

You gasp as your ecstasy builds, your back arching as your hips stutter. You lose rhythm but it doesn’t matter, your orgasm swallows you whole. You reach out behind you blindly, your nails digging into his hair, scratching his scalp. You hear Shanks hiss as you cry out. He bites the top of your ear, and follows it down to your earlobe, to lose himself inside the crook of your neck, nuzzling your skin past the necklace. There’s plenty of reminders there–ones he had carefully left behind, but he figures a few more could never hurt. After all, you’re apart so often, he fears you’d soon forget how it feels to be desired and consumed by his affections.

You’re panting, barely coming down from your orgasm when you feel Shanks moving between your legs. His fingers rifle through your folds, enjoying the silky sensation of your cum around his fingers. You mumble something he can’t quite grasp as he tentatively inserts a finger inside you.

“Shanks!” you cry out, panting, eyes barely focused. “Hang on. Gimme a second.” He chuckles next to your ear, curving his finger slightly; searching. You bite your lip to keep from whimpering.

“I gave you plenty of seconds,” he says softly, playfully–as if he was singing. “You had your fun. I want to have some too.” You tremble in his embrace as he inserts another finger, and starts scissoring them inside you. You know he’d be annoyed, as you stay as quiet as possible, but you want to hear the way his fingers squelch when they go in and out of you. You want to hear him panting, the little soft moans that puff past his swollen lips. You want to feel him digging into your ass with his hips, feel his leaky cock on your skin.

“You’re doing it again,” he chastises as he pulls his fingers out. You gasp at the empty feeling, immediately craving him as soon as he’s gone. “I guess my fingers aren’t enough, huh?”

You swallow thickly, and move your hips testily, wiggling your ass against his erection. The look you give him over your shoulder is seductive enough to threaten to blow his head wide open. 

“If you know that then why don’t you hurry up and put it in?” you mumble breathlessly. You’re breathing so loudly, Shanks swears he can hear you panting inside his head; over and over. “Or do I need to help you with that too?”

Shanks resists the urge to laugh. He scoffs instead, a tinge of embarrassment weighing heavily on his face. He didn’t need your help period when it came down to pleasing you. Your assumption was daring, and insulting. Perhaps he should teach you a lesson–a good one–before he leaves again. Shanks uses his free hand to guide his cock towards your entrance. He swirls the tip around your opening, watching gleefully as you wiggle your hips, trying to get him to slip inside you.

“Impatient as usual,” he remarks, a broad grin as he avoids your entrance again, choosing to slide his tip up and down between your folds instead. “Good things come to those who wait. Ever heard of it?”

“Your English sayings mean nothing to me,” you mumble, despite understanding fully well what he was saying. You turn your head, trying to glare at him over your shoulder as best as you could while he was still busy teasing you with his cock. You shiver as you speak: “What about ‘el que tiene tienda que la atienda’? Ever heard of that one?”

Shanks chuckles again, kissing your ear, and your temple. He lets his mouth linger there as he presses his tip against your entrance. You breathe in a gasp, full to the brim with expectation.

“You’re right, never heard of it,” he mumbles against your skin as he pushes forward, sinking into you slowly. You moan softly, it rumbles at the bottom of your throat, and drops into the pit of your belly where it starts a fire. “You should teach me more. What does it mean?”

Your brain can barely comprehend his words. All you can think of, all you feel, is Shanks cock moving inside you, you feel his body behind yours, his strong arm wrapping around your waist. All you can smell is his breath on your skin, all you can feel is the heat his kisses leave behind.

“So?” he asks you again, moving his hips slowly as he lets you adjust around his girth. “You won’t tell me?” Your gasp is ragged, little jitters shaking your body with pleasure. Shanks was no small man, and this was not even close to your first time with him, but he always took you by surprise. Not that you’d ever back down and admit defeat.

“Gimme a sec,” you spit through clenched teeth. He begins thrusting into you, picking up the pace without another word. His pelvis slaps into your ass, making a loud sound as skin hits skin. His balls feel heavy against your swollen pussy. “I said–gimme a damn…” You moan loudly, and press your head against his chest. Shanks smiles and cranes his neck to kiss your cheek. 

“Take your time,” he grunts in between thrusts. You shut your eyes tightly, trying to keep from crying out but as usual, he reaches deep inside you, to the spongy spot that makes you fall apart. You gasp loudly, pants becoming closer and closer together. Shanks slides his hand from your belly to your breast. He grips it tightly, kneading, as he sucks on your neck, his fingers expertly finding your perky nipples.

They were already sore and sensitive from his earlier teasing, now, you could barely resist him.

You cry out, feeling control slip right past your fingers. 

“W-wait!” you beg, kicking your legs impulsively. Shanks lets go of your breast to pin it down, as he continues fucking you from behind. He squeezes your legs together, creating an even tighter sensation as he thrusts in and out of you. You whimper, and shake, eyes unfocused as pleasure pools at the center of you. Your pussy throbs and aches. Shanks can’t help but grin at the way your pussy squelches every time he moves. You’re dripping so much he feels your sweet juices down to his balls. 

“I’ve been waiting,” he says through gritted teeth but you don’t respond. He looks over at your face quickly, and realizes with glee that you won’t be telling him anything soon. Your hair still wet, is disheveled and tangled, partially sticking to your flushed face. Your cheeks glow under the scone lights, brown and warm and enticing. Your eyes are blown wide, lips glossy and swollen from all the kissing. On your neck and chest he can see bruises blooming already, only made all the prettier by the necklace hanging from your neck and over your breasts.

You look devoured, glorified and an absolute mess. Just the way he likes you. 

“Are you gonna cum for me?” he asks you, his breath scalding against your cheek. His hand is clamped tightly on your thigh, keeping your legs tightly together. “You’ll cum for me, right, Doll? After all, I came all the way here to see your pretty face. To give you one of the necklaces you love so much. To give you all of this,” he says with a violent thrust. “Because I know how much you love it.”

You reach behind you blindly, savagely, your arm grasping his upper arm. You scratch his skin with your nails as you continuously cry out, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix almost painfully. You reach out again, his hip, his ass, a part of his shoulder. You know you’re not being kind, your nails digging deep to leave your mark, but you have lost your grip on reason.

You cry out his name when you cum, twisting, and shivering under his embrace. Shanks holds you tightly, not stopping his hips. He continues to fuck into you, grunting louder and louder. He moans your name against your neck, as you feel him stiffen. His hips stutter, as he spills into you, losing sense of rhythm. Your body is too sore, and your mind too fuzzy for you to care about him cumming inside you. 

Normally, you’d chew him out for it, but you had lost your fight the moment he shoved his cock in your pussy.

“Hey,” he drawls, licking the shell of your ear. You shudder, eyes fluttering close as your body feels heavier and heavier. You could fall asleep right there, if you really wanted to, covered in his scent, full of his cum and so spent. “You haven’t told me yet what it means.”

You somehow find the strength to laugh lightly. 

“It means if you’re not here to fuck me, somebody else will be,” you reply, looking up over your shoulder at him with heavy lidded eyes. Shanks gasps dramatically and drops a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose.

“See? All you try to do is hurt me,” he whispers with a crooked smile. You reach up with one hand to cup his cheek and bring him closer to your mouth. You rest your lips just over his.

“And you like it too,” you tell him before kissing him once more.

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

Op… you make a lot of interesting claims in this post. To get the facts straight before I go on a rant… 1) George claims that Rhaegar was a love struck prince 2) the books don’t mention anything about any marriages being annulled/anyone being set aside 3) seems like Dorne has no issue with Rhaegar and 4) Ned literally never thinks anything bad about Rhaegar… but thinks ill of Robert.

First off, a man trapped in a duty bound marriage and finding love outside that marriage is completely different from a whoremonger shouting about his love while visiting brothels whenever he could. And guess what… Ned straight up thinks that Rhaegar didn’t seem like someone who’d visit brothels. Robert and Rhaegar couldn’t be any more different.

And when did Lyanna want to be wild and free? When is it ever said that Rhaegar locked her in the tower of joy and that Lyanna was a prisoner?

Ned never even alludes to there being any truth in any of these claims. What we do know is that Lyanna greatly resembles Arya in looks and personality… and Arya wants to be a high septon and kings counselor, meaning Arya wants to have a position of power and not be reduced to a baby making machine. Going off of that… it seems like Lyanna didn’t want to be “wild and free,” she just wanted to be treated with respect. The only reason Arya is even treated like she’s wild is because she doesn’t conform to the Westerosi standards for highborn women.

And of course she’d feel miserable when she heard Aerys killed her brother and father. Aerys. Not Rhaegar. I wouldn’t even be surprised if she felt guilt about what happened, but in the end it was Aerys who brutally killed them. And then Rhaegar goes to protect his family and dies, and then Rhaegar’s family is brutally killed and then Lyanna dies. George did claim that the greatest love stories are the tragedies (i may be misremembering but i know he said something along the lines of that lmao).

Op, you claim that Rhaelyas love would’ve died after getting news of the Starks deaths, and then you try to suggest that Rhaegar may have been keeping Lyanna isolated from news in Dorne… like please pick a story to go with! And Rhaelyas love dying or Lyanna not being kept updated on what was going on outside of Dorne just doesn’t seem to be true. When reading Neds chapters, it seems like Lyanna was fully aware of what happened to Rhaegar’s children and Elia… as Lyanna pleaded with Ned like how Sansa pleaded with Ned to not kill Lady (hope i’m not misremembering here lol). And Rhaegar dying with a woman’s name on his lips (likely Lyanna’s name) and Lyanna clutching a winter rose (this may just be symbolism for baby Jon tbh) until she passed away seems to contradict your belief that their love died.

Also, where are you getting the “Rhaegar would suggest to set aside his kids and wife to marry Lyanna” from? The show? You mention how Lyanna would not be okay with this, and I agree that Lyanna would never be fine with setting Elia and Elia’s children aside. But even thinking that Rhaegar would ever even suggest setting aside Elia and his children is bonkers. Like seriously… there was so much tension between Aerys and Rhaegar that the Royal court was said to have begun looking like the situation before the Dance of the Dragons. And Dorne was Rhaegar’s greatest support! Why would it make any sense for him to annul his marriage with Elia? And please remember that during the sack Rhaenys hid under her fathers bed. The text supports him loving his kids/his child who wasn’t a baby seeking to be protected by him so why would he endanger them and their positions? (and no, disappearing with Lyanna for awhile isn’t him endangering his family. Aerys was the one who endangered his family (hot take brandon was the one who endangered the starks like wth was he thinking???). and tbh it seems like Aerys knew exactly where to find Rhaegar so did Rhaegar and Lyanna even disappear? or were they just keeping their location a secret from the rebels? the rebels who ended up killing Rhaegar’s family?)

I will say that how op first started to characterize Lyanna is something I agree with, her being principled, noble, honorable, and just with a sensitive side seems to be true, but then op goes on to continue to claim that Lyanna was wild and that she had little regard as to how other people perceived her. There’s no reason for us to believe that she didn’t care about what others thought of her or that she was wild and wanted freedom more than anything, it just seems like she dared to tread away from what was expected of Westerosi highborn women and that she didn’t want to be married to Robert. And guess what… Robert ended up being an abuser! *gasp* Lyanna dear… you clocked Robert right away.

And seriously… how does any of what op mentioned back up their claim that Lyanna would never resign herself to the position of a mistress? Is being a mistress/paramour really that bad? Does it truly seem like Lyanna would look down on those women? Her mini me Arya doesn’t look down on the courtesans of Braavos who occupy a similar position as mistresses in society. And it seems like plenty of noblewomen have been mistresses in the past and they are still as respected as a woman can be in Westerosi society. Missy Blackwood and Elaena Targaryen are right there. And Op, if Lyanna was Rhaegar’s mistress, why would you think that Lyanna couldn’t have been happy? Are we going to doubt Ellarias happiness and her love of Oberyn because they weren’t married? Should I doubt Rhaenyra and Harwins happiness because Rhaenyra was married to Laenor? Rhaegar and Elias marriage was not a love match. And if Rhaegar and Lyanna did marry… ever wonder if polygamy was introduced as a Valyrian practice by George to hint at Rhaegar taking a second wife? Should I now doubt Rhaenys and Aegons happiness and love because Rhaenys was Aegons second wife?

Now can we please stop acting like two people married due to duty have any reason to love each other? Nedcat seems to be an exception in Westeros. Lyanna and Rhaegar falling in love isn’t ruining Elia and Rhaegar’s marriage when love wasn’t there in the first place.

haha my whole post is a bit messy i just wanted to get my thoughts out :)

fuckkkk i want to tag more (my tags are a mess lmao no i’ve not gone through them and no they will not make any sense)

[frogofalltime]

(i'm so sorry, this turned out to be a full essay. nobody has to actually Read this. i'm just posting into the Void because it feels better than keeping all these feelings inside.)

being at my parents' house after living away for a year is so weird. every time i return here i feel like i've stepped back into the person i was a year ago. i sleep in their room, i wear their pyjamas, i slot back into the roles they used to fulfil. if i could just switch off my brain, maybe i could go back to how things were before, when everything was buried deep inside my chest and almost nobody in the world aside from one or two friends knew that i was anything other than a girl.

and yet i also feel like i'll never be that person ever again. it's as if they were a character i played for a while, but now i have jumped off the stage, and landed in a place that feels so much better. i don't want to perform anymore; i just want to be Myself. i want to Scream and Yell and tell everyone i met before i went to university last year that they never knew me, that the old me was trying so hard to be something i am not, that i was never a girl and i just pretended to be because that was what i had to do. i want to shout at the top of my lungs, i'm a boy, i'm a BOY, please let me dress like one, please let me be what i am ! please love me even though i am not what you thought i was !

but i also know i Can't say that because they will never accept me. they probably won't even believe me. my parents won't ever call me Son; they'd never stop calling me their Daughter, unless they decide to disown me. they will think i'm mentally ill, brainwashed, or even possessed; they'll stay awake at night praying because they think i'm a sinner and going to hell, and i don't want them to go through that. many times i have tried to explain it to my mother but she wasn't receptive at all, so i diluted it down to basically nothing, feeble excuses for why i changed my style and cut my hair. and then my father. i can't even say a word to him. it wouldn't be safe.

every She, every Her, hurts me like an arrow in my chest. i don't want to be seen as female. i want to change my name because it feels like it doesn't represent me. i want to get top surgery and never again have to close my eyes when i shower or wear uncomfortable layers to hide my chest. but i don't think i ever can. what else am i supposed to do with this pain but endure it ? i have to keep acting, for everybody's sake.

i'm only here for three more days. i've survived so much longer in the past ! i'll be Home soon, but even there i won't be free, because my housemates also think i'm a girl. in fact they arranged their accommodation to be religious and female-only, but here i am, a fraud and a liar and definitely Not A Woman. if i told them this, i don't know how they'd react. i am sure it would not be positive.

at least my friends know the truth, and they do support me. i have a Found Family that genuinely cares and understands, and i don't know what i would do without them. maybe next year i will be able to live with them and that way i won't have to pretend anymore ? or even if that doesn't work out, at least i have stopped pretending to myself. i don't have to keep trying to "fix" my dysphoria by forcing myself to be feminine (which, of course, makes the dysphoria even worse). when i'm away from my family, i can dress how i want. i don't have to repress everything "deviant" about myself like i used to before. i am what i am and i love myself for it. nobody can take that away from me.

in fact, i'm really happy. truly, i feel better than i ever have before. realising that i am trans, that i always have been, and finally embracing it, was the most freeing moment of my life. it just hurts that i can't share this joy with my parents and that i have to hide what i am around them. but we can't have everything in life, i suppose.

[chdarling]

I’m really bored at the moment so I thought I would share some of the notes I have made while re-reading tle2 while you were gone :)

“I do so. You’re just jealous because I have all these beautiful free periods and you don’t. Look.”

HA what an icon you are Pete

”Stay away from her,” snarled Snape, his sallow skin and sharp nose inches from James’s own.”

Bitch you don’t have a claim on Lily, u shouldn’t actually be allowed to breath the same air as her nor being able to look at her cause u are scum

‘’Severus Snape was seated on the other side of the dungeon, a few rows behind her, and he was staring at her as though he hoped to force her to turn around by the sheer intensity of his gaze.’’

Eww take u greedy ugly eyes away from her u mother fucker

“The werewolf pet they kept close was currently slouching next to Potter and rummaging for something in its bag.”

‘YOU FUCKER WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL REMUS AKA ONE OF THE BEST PEOPLE IN THE WORLD’

”Lily smiled at the werewolf, and Severus wanted to scream”

Let’s not throw a tantrum, are you five?!

“Lily seemed determined to hold onto her silly little grudge forever”

“Silly grudge” sure as u didn’t CALL HER A FUCKING SLUR

”Er…yeah, actually I do.”“Well, no one likes a cliffhanger! Who?”Lily bit her lip, wondering if she ought to lie, but ultimately deciding it would be worse if Alodie found out later and concluded Lily had done it on purpose. Steeling herself, she said: “Harvey Harris.”She couldn’t be sure, but Lily thought she heard a faint snicker from behind the curtains of Marlene McKinnon’s bed”

HAHA I’d would be laughing my ass of if I was there😅

“As the music swelled, Remus’s gaze drifted up to Sirius’s face: His eyes were closed, eyebrows slightly lifted, his mouth a vague line — not a smile, but not quite a scowl. Then the music petered out like a drift of rain, and Sirius opened his eyes.“That was beautiful,” said Remus quietly.”

Is that love I smell…🦡

“Because anything associated with Lily Evans hurt.”

NOO I can’t anymore to much angst :(

“I don’t know what I’m talking about,” he said wildly. “I’m…drunk!”“Remus Lupin, you are not drunk. You said, ‘the girl you fancy.’”

Idk why but I just imagine remus flapping his arms when he’s pretending to be drunk 🦡

“James?” said Remus’s voice from somewhere far away. “You’re drooling.”“Huh?”“What were you saying just now?” asked Sirius with a sly grin, “about you not fancying Lily Evans?”“Well, that’s — that’s just not fair,”

James you are me I would be drooling too ;)

“Lily let out a humorless laugh. “Yes, what an absolute git for finding himself a nice girlfriend who’s prettier, cleverer, and funnier than me. The gall.”“She’s not prettier, cleverer, or funnier than you.”“You didn’t even meet her.”“Doesn’t matter. It’s not possible. There’s no such girl.”

When James is honest and tells the truth>>>

“There was something deeply satisfying about the way Snape full-body flinched at the words Potions partner, James Potter.”

HA

“For her to give up her precious laugh like that for Potter — James fucking Potter…It was more than Severus could bear.”

SERVES YOU RIGHT!!

“It was torturous to watch them together — the possessive way Potter hovered beside her, the false little act of intimacy as he leaned down and whispered in her ear.”

‘False’ please

”It was not Potter she sought out, but another Gryffindor girl, that bitch McKinnon.”

‘EXCUSE ME WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL MARLS’

“Because you don’t belong with them, he wanted to shout. You belong with me. Not them, me! Forget their parties, and their clubs, and their Quidditch heroes. Me! Me, me, me!”

‘Belong with me’ please have you hit you’re head or sniffed to much grease of your hair?!

“I want you, he thought. I want us.”

You’re alone with that!

anddd that enough for today, as you can see I despise snape very much

I’m probably going to tell you the rest of the notes I have made another day if you want 🫶

Ahahaha oh my goodness this was a joy to read. Thank you so much for sharing 💖💖💖

Idk why but I just imagine remus flapping his arms when he’s pretending to be drunk

Canon. 😎

[percontaion-points]

5 Survive chapters 13 & 14

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Click here for the rest of the series!

Chapter 13

“A walkie-talkie.” 

Oliver straightened up, his grip loosening on the knife. “Where is it?” 

“Somewhere over there.” Simon pointed toward the driver’s seat, the oneeyed bullet hole glaring back at them. 

“Inside or outside?” Reyna asked, taking one tentative step forward. 

“How would he have gotten it inside?” Oliver snapped. “We are right here and the RV is secure.” 

Maybe if he said it enough times, it would become true. 

Seriously. They put a mattress over one shot-out window, and a suitcase over the other. Completely and utterly ignoring the other windows. 

“How do I…” Oliver shook the walkie-talkie, glancing up at Red. Had he really never played with one of these before, even as a kid?

It’s hardly rocket science. You press the button to talk. Twist the knob to change the channel/frequency. 

“I’ll tell you what I mean.” Static. “Oliver Charles Lavoy. “Madeline Joy Lavoy. “Reyna Flores-Serrano. “Arthur Grant Moore. “Simon Jinsun Yoo. “Redford Kenny.”

The thing that gets me about this is like… The kids got lost. They took a wrong turn.

How the fuck do you predict that people would have made a wrong turn down your random street in the middle of nowhere, North Carolina? 

“I’ll tell you what I mean.” Static. “Oliver Charles Lavoy. “Madeline Joy Lavoy. “Reyna Flores-Serrano. “Arthur Grant Moore. “Simon Jinsun Yoo. “Redford Kenny.”

Chapter 13 summary: Obviously everybody freezes upon hearing this voice commanding them to come to the front of the RV. Red’s mum was a police officer (it’s how she died), so she immediately identifies the background noise of that of a walkie-talkie. 

It’s eventually determined that it’s outside the patched-up suitcase window, but that it wasn’t there when they put the suitcase up. There’s a lot of arguing, but eventually Arthur reaches out and grabs it from where it’s hanging from the side mirror. 

Reyna wants to discuss what they should say to the guy. But Oliver, once again, decides for the entire group to start talking immediately. He demands to know what the guy wants, and promises him everything that they’ve got. Including his credit cards and PIN. 

The guy says that he has what he wants, which is them. And proceeds to list their full names. (Which I’d like to tell you, this is the first time the narration has established any of them… Or that Simon is Asian.) 

Chapter 14

“Oliver, do something!” Reyna shouted. “Say something. He knows who we are!” 

He snapped back into life. “What can I say, Reyna? What can I do? I’m trying to think what this means!”

Oh, suddenly you’re not going to speak for the group? After finally being called out on your shit by a man with a sniper rifle?

“Is it possible he searched the RV license plate after he shot out the tires?” he asked the others. “That it might have led him to Simon’s uncle, then Simon, then to finding the rest of us?”

[...]

“He knew who we were before we got here,” Reyna said, joining Oliver to stare down at the walkie-talkie. “He brought us here, trapped us here.” 

“Why?” Maddy wiped her face.

It’s not so much the why but the how. 

He might have been able to connect the RV to Simon. But how did he know the random collection of other people in there?

More importantly… He might have been able to block out cell signal, but at no point did he ever actually take control over their free will and make them turn down this random road in the middle of the night. 

“He knocked out the cell service?” Reyna said, her hand moving to the back of Oliver’s neck as he bent forward, elbows to his knees, head to his hands. Defeated already. 

“How could he do that?”

Out of all of the mysteries, this one is the most obvious. I’ve watched enough crime dramas to know how easily the killer can buy cell signal jammers online. (Whether this is the truth or not remains to be seen.) 

“That’s for the six of you to figure out. And remember one thing: you can’t see me but I can see you. If you try to run, I will shoot.”

Chapter 14 summary: I want to highlight again how speechless Oliver becomes upon the man revealing that he knows who they are. Where they live. Their phone numbers, etc etc. Everybody is panicking obviously, but it’s oddly satisfying that Oliver is also freaking out. 

They flounder around for a while, never once asking any question of actual importance: how. It’s maddening. 

Anyway, Oliver eventually asks what the man wants. He says that he wants “a secret”, but refuses to elaborate on what that is. 

[bloodinkandashes]

I always loved Pier 96, It was such a beautiful tragedy. Many people think that Goncharov was John Cazale's best role but I would argue that Pier 96 was at least as good if not better!

Just the way Jimmy was willing to go so far for his friend, it gets me every time and I find myself asking, "if I was a man who had been community raised by my mafia found family from a young age, and my best friend accidentally slipped up while drunk and was responsible for a massive bust that nearly destroyed the organization I was part of and got several of my adopted family members killed and others arrested, would *I* be able to forgive him and push aside my own grief and take the blame to prevent him and his wife and children from being murdered in retribution? Would *I* be willing to use my own mistake from my younger days to sell the story that it was me that did it? Would *I* have the mental fortitude to go through the agony of being seen as a traitor by the people I cared most about and had looked up to all my life? The pain of having the people who had been through thick and thin with me be the ones gunning for me? Could I survive knowing the only thing I could do was run, because I could never fight them, not them, not the people I would rather cut my own hand off than harm. Would *I* be strong enough to not crack, to not tell the truth, even as my former brother bore down on me, looking at me with hatred and betrayal, asking over and over "Why? How could you do it??" as his fists and boots connected with my unresisting form.

And would *I* have the strength to kill the one person who discovered the truth, the most loyal person I had, who hid me even when they thought I was a snitch. Could I look them in the eye and understand that they were in every way my match, my soul mate, my equal in heart and soul, listen as they told me of their plans to get the real snitch and his family out of the city before revealing the truth, and tell them were doing the right thing, but knowing that there would be nowhere that family could run far enough to escape. Could *I* listen quietly, cleanching one fist behind my back, nails digging into my palm, as I rested the other hand on the gun in my pocket, pulling it free as they turned away, catching that one last glimpse of their beaming face - overjoyed that I didn't have to suffer any longer, relived that they wouldn't have to lose me - as they turned to go wash the red off my record with the blood of innocents. Could *I* pull the trigger or would I hesitate as he did? Hesitate too long, long enough for them to turn back to smile warmly at me, and to see that smile freeze, turn to shock, pain, bewilderment, to hear them whisper "why?" And would I too break for the first time as that simple whisper cut into me deeper than my brothers angry shouts ever could have?

Which brings me to Leo, dearest Leonardo, the one who never questioned why his friend betrayed them, who never failed to believe that there had to be a reason. The steadfast stoic who could not contain his hope and joy as the words rushed out, reassuring his friend that he knew why he did it but that it would all be ok now, everything was going to be ok. Leo who turned back to gaze at the one he so admired, and only more so for learning of the sacrifice he was willing to make, and found himself looking up the barrel of a gun instead. Oh, poor, determined Leo. Leo who stepped closer instead of away, whose only thought as the gun fell from a hand that no longer had the will to hold it was to rush to the side of the one who moments before had meant to kill him. Leo, who listened and understood. Leo who would not beg no matter how much he wanted to. Leo, who knew that to ask his friend to please, please, don't make me do this, would be to ask him to go against his core values, the center of what made Jimmy, Jimmy. Leo who could never, ever ask him to not be the person he'd fallen in love with. Leo, whose heart broke as he committed to a plan that would rip it in two forever.

And that final night on pier 96. Just the two of them, the loyal enforcer and the snitch. I could whip out 4 more paragraphs just getting into the beauty of that scene, how perfect the choice to use just a single angle was, and the understated brilliance of not playing background music after having a consistent motif every time they're on screen together all through the movie - a motif that is only heard without both of them being on screen one other time... ghjjkkkkkk Its fine, I'm fine, that scene has already been so overanalysed so many times, I won't clog your dash with my shitty take on it lol

i know it's like a mafia movie cliche but think about how impractical "cement shoes" are. like that cement takes a long time to set. imagine you're a snitch and you're gonna sleep with the fishes but they have to get you in these things first. you're tied up in a chair. you've got an enforcer putting your feet in the wet cement. he's making sure the molds around your feet are tight and secure. he's keeping watch on you so that you don't run. that cement takes a long time to set. maybe you two get to talking. nothing to lose if you're gonna die soon. maybe he's got pretty eyes. that cement takes a long time to set. what was i talking about

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

4th September >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Monday, Twenty Second Week in Ordinary Time

and

Saint Mac Nissi, Bishop.

Monday, Twenty Second Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: White: A (1))

(Readings for the feria (Monday))

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Monday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 Do not grieve about those who have died in Jesus.

We want you to be quite certain, brothers, about those who have died, to make sure that you do not grieve about them, like the other people who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again, and that it will be the same for those who have died in Jesus: God will bring them with him. We can tell you this from the Lord’s own teaching, that any of us who are left alive until the Lord’s coming will not have any advantage over those who have died. At the trumpet of God, the voice of the archangel will call out the command and the Lord himself will come down from heaven; those who have died in Christ will be the first to rise, and then those of us who are still alive will be taken up in the clouds, together with them; to meet the Lord in the air. So we shall stay with the Lord for ever. With such thoughts as these you should comfort one another.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 95(96):1,3-5,11-13

R/ The Lord comes to rule the earth.

O sing a new song to the Lord, sing to the Lord all the earth. Tell among the nations his glory and his wonders among all the peoples.

R/ The Lord comes to rule the earth.

The Lord is great and worthy of praise, to be feared above all gods; the gods of the heathens are naught. It was the Lord who made the heavens,

R/ The Lord comes to rule the earth.

Let the heavens rejoice and earth be glad, let the sea and all within it thunder praise, let the land and all it bears rejoice, all the trees of the wood shout for joy at the presence of the Lord for he comes, he comes to rule the earth.

R/ The Lord comes to rule the earth.

With justice he will rule the world, he will judge the peoples with his truth.

R/ The Lord comes to rule the earth.

Gospel Acclamation John 8:12

Alleluia, alleluia! I am the light of the world, says the Lord; anyone who follows me will have the light of life. Alleluia!

Or: Luke 4:18

Alleluia, alleluia! The Lord has sent me to bring the good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives. Alleluia!

Gospel Luke 4:16-30 'This text is being fulfilled today, even as you listen'.

Jesus came to Nazara, where he had been brought up, and went into the synagogue on the sabbath day as he usually did. He stood up to read and they handed him the scroll of the prophet Isaiah. Unrolling the scroll he found the place where it is written:

The spirit of the Lord has been given to me, for he has anointed me. He has sent me to bring the good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives and to the blind new sight, to set the downtrodden free, to proclaim the Lord’s year of favour.

He then rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the assistant and sat down. And all eyes in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then he began to speak to them, ‘This text is being fulfilled today even as you listen.’ And he won the approval of all, and they were astonished by the gracious words that came from his lips. They said, ‘This is Joseph’s son, surely?’

But he replied, ‘No doubt you will quote me the saying, “Physician, heal yourself” and tell me, “We have heard all that happened in Capernaum, do the same here in your own countryside.”’ And he went on, ‘I tell you solemnly, no prophet is ever accepted in his own country.

‘There were many widows in Israel, I can assure you, in Elijah’s day, when heaven remained shut for three years and six months and a great famine raged throughout the land, but Elijah was not sent to any one of these: he was sent to a widow at Zarephath, a Sidonian town. And in the prophet Elisha’s time there were many lepers in Israel, but none of these was cured, except the Syrian, Naaman.’ When they heard this everyone in the synagogue was enraged. They sprang to their feet and hustled him out of the town; and they took him up to the brow of the hill their town was built on, intending to throw him down the cliff, but he slipped through the crowd and walked away.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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

Saint Mac Nissi, Bishop 

(Liturgical Colour: White: A (1))

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Monday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

Either:

First Reading Exodus 32:7-14 Moses pleads with the Lord his God to spare Israel.

The Lord spoke to Moses, ‘Go down now, because your people whom you brought out of Egypt have apostatised. They have been quick to leave the way I marked out for them; they have made themselves a calf of molten metal and have worshipped it and offered it sacrifice. “Here is your God, Israel,” they have cried “who brought you up from the land of Egypt!”’ the Lord said to Moses, ‘I can see how headstrong these people are! Leave me, now, my wrath shall blaze out against them and devour them; of you, however, I will make a great nation.’

But Moses pleaded with the Lord his God. ‘Lord,’ he said ‘why should your wrath blaze out against this people of yours whom you brought out of the land of Egypt with arm outstretched and mighty hand? Why let the Egyptians say, “Ah, it was in treachery that he brought them out, to do them to death in the mountains and wipe them off the face of the earth”? Leave your burning wrath; relent and do not bring this disaster on your people. Remember Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, your servants to whom by your own self you swore and made this promise: I will make your offspring as many as the stars of heaven, and all this land which I promised I will give to your descendants, and it shall be their heritage for ever.’

So the Lord relented and did not bring on his people the disaster he had threatened.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

OR: --------

First reading Deuteronomy 10:8-9 The Lord set apart the tribe of Levi to do him service

Moses said to the people: ‘The Lord set apart the tribe of Levi to carry the ark of the Lord’s covenant, to stand in the presence of the Lord, to do him service and in his name to pronounce blessing as they still do today. Levi therefore has no share or inheritance with his brothers: the Lord is his inheritance, as the Lord your God told him.’

OR: --------

First reading 1 Samuel 16:1,6-13 David is anointed by Samuel

The Lord said to Samuel, ‘Fill your horn with oil and go. I am sending you to Jesse of Bethlehem, for I have chosen myself a king among his sons.’ Samuel purified Jesse and his sons and invited them to the sacrifice. When they arrived, he caught sight of Eliab and thought, ‘Surely the Lord’s anointed one stands there before him’, but the Lord said to Samuel, ‘Take no notice of his appearance or his height for I have rejected him; God does not see as man sees; man looks at appearances but the Lord looks at the heart.’ Jesse then called Abinadab and presented him to Samuel, who said, ‘The Lord has not chosen this one either.’ Jesse then presented Shammah, but Samuel said, ‘The Lord has not chosen this one either.’ Jesse presented his seven sons to Samuel, but Samuel said to Jesse, ‘The Lord has not chosen these.’ He then asked Jesse, ‘Are these all the sons you have?’ He answered, ‘There is still one left, the youngest; he is out looking after the sheep.’ Then Samuel said to Jesse, ‘Send for him; we will not sit down to eat until he comes.’ Jesse had him sent for, a boy of fresh complexion, with fine eyes and pleasant bearing. The Lord said, ‘Come, anoint him, for this is the one.’ At this, Samuel took the horn of oil and anointed him where he stood with his brothers; and the spirit of the Lord seized on David and stayed with him from that day on.

OR: --------

First reading Isaiah 6:1-2,3-8 'Here I am: send me'

In the year of King Uzziah’s death I saw the Lord of Hosts seated on a high throne; his train filled the sanctuary; above him stood seraphs, each one with six wings. And they cried out to one another in this way,

‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts. His glory fills the whole earth.’

The foundations of the threshold shook with the voice of the one who cried out, and the Temple was filled with smoke. I said:

‘What a wretched state I am in! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have looked at the King, the Lord of Hosts.’

Then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding in his hand a live coal which he had taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. With this he touched my mouth and said:

‘See now, this has touched your lips, your sin is taken away, your iniquity is purged.’

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying:

‘Whom shall I send? Who will be our messenger?’

I answered, ‘Here I am, send me.’

OR: --------

First reading Isaiah 52:7-10 Rejoice, for the Lord is consoling his people

How beautiful on the mountains, are the feet of one who brings good news, who heralds peace, brings happiness, proclaims salvation, and tells Zion, ‘Your God is king!’

Listen! Your watchmen raise their voices, they shout for joy together, for they see the Lord face to face, as he returns to Zion.

Break into shouts of joy together, you ruins of Jerusalem; for the Lord is consoling his people, redeeming Jerusalem.

The Lord bares his holy arm in the sight of all the nations, and all the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God.

OR: --------

First reading Isaiah 61:1-3 He has sent me to proclaim a year of favour from the Lord

The spirit of the Lord has been given to me, for the Lord has anointed me. He has sent me to bring good news to the poor, to bind up hearts that are broken;

to proclaim liberty to captives, freedom to those in prison; to proclaim a year of favour from the Lord, a day of vengeance for our God,

to comfort all those who mourn and to give them for ashes a garland; for mourning robe the oil of gladness, for despondency, praise.

OR: --------

First reading Jeremiah 1:4-9 Go and say whatever I command you and do not fear

The word of the Lord was addressed to me, saying,

‘Before I formed you in the womb I knew you; before you came to birth I consecrated you; I have appointed you as prophet to the nations.’

I said, ‘Ah, Lord; look, I do not know how to speak: I am a child!’

But the Lord replied, ‘Do not say, “I am a child.” Go now to those to whom I send you and, say whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to protect you – it is the Lord who speaks!’

Then the Lord put out his hand and touched my mouth and said to me:

‘There! I am putting my words into your mouth.’

OR: --------

First reading Ezekiel 3:17-21 Warn the wicked man, and you will live

The word of the Lord was addressed to me as follows, ‘Son of man, I have appointed you as sentry to the House of Israel. Whenever you hear a word from me, warn them in my Name. If I say to a wicked man, “You are to die,” and you do not warn him; if you do not speak and warn him to renounce his evil ways and so live, then he shall die for his sin, but I will hold you responsible for his death. If, however, you do warn a wicked man and he does not renounce his wickedness and his evil ways, then he shall die for his sin, but you yourself will have saved your life. When the upright man renounces his integrity to do evil and I set a trap for him, he too shall die; since you failed to warn him, he shall die for his sin and the integrity he practised will no longer be remembered; but I will hold you responsible for his death. If, however, you warn the upright man not to sin and he abstains from sinning, he shall live, thanks to your warning, and you too will have saved your life.’

OR: --------

First reading Ezekiel 34:11-16 I will look after my flock myself and keep all of it in view

The Lord God says this: I am going to look after my flock myself and keep all of it in view. As a shepherd keeps all his flock in view when he stands up in the middle of his scattered sheep, so shall I keep my sheep in view. I shall rescue them from wherever they have been scattered during the mist and darkness. I shall bring them out of the countries where they are; I shall gather them together from foreign countries and bring them back to their own land. I shall pasture them on the mountains of Israel, in the ravines and in every inhabited place in the land. I shall feed them in good pasturage; the high mountains of Israel will be their grazing ground. There they will rest in good grazing ground; they will browse in rich pastures on the mountains of Israel. I myself will pasture my sheep, I myself will show them where to rest – it is the Lord who speaks. I shall look for the lost one, bring back the stray, bandage the wounded and make the weak strong. I shall watch over the fat and healthy. I shall be a true shepherd to them.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 88(89):2-5,21-22,25,27

I will sing for ever of your love, O Lord.

I will sing for ever of your love, O Lord; through all ages my mouth will proclaim your truth. Of this I am sure, that your love lasts for ever, that your truth is firmly established as the heavens.

I will sing for ever of your love, O Lord.

‘I have made a covenant with my chosen one; I have sworn to David my servant: I will establish your dynasty for ever and set up your throne through all ages.

I will sing for ever of your love, O Lord.

‘I have found David my servant and with my holy oil anointed him. My hand shall always be with him and my arm shall make him strong.

I will sing for ever of your love, O Lord.

‘My truth and my love shall be with him; by my name his might shall be exalted. He will say to me: “You are my father, my God, the rock who saves me.”’

I will sing for ever of your love, O Lord.

Gospel Acclamation Mt23:9,10

Alleluia, alleluia! You have only one Father, and he is in heaven; you have only one Teacher, the Christ. Alleluia!

Or: Mt28:19,20

Alleluia, alleluia! Go, make disciples of all the nations. I am with you always; yes, to the end of time. Alleluia!

Or: Mk1:17

Alleluia, alleluia! Follow me, says the Lord, and I will make you into fishers of men. Alleluia!

Or: Lk4:18

Alleluia, alleluia! The Lord has sent me to bring the good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives. Alleluia!

Or: Jn10:14

Alleluia, alleluia! I am the good shepherd, says the Lord; I know my own sheep and my own know me. Alleluia!

Or: Jn15:5

Alleluia, alleluia! I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me, with me in him, bears fruit in plenty, says the Lord. Alleluia!

Or: 2Co5:19

Alleluia, alleluia! God in Christ was reconciling the world to himself, and he has entrusted to us the news that they are reconciled. Alleluia!

EITHER: --------

Gospel Matthew 9:35-37 The harvest is rich but the labourers are few

Jesus made a tour through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the Good News of the kingdom and curing all kinds of diseases and sickness. And when he saw the crowds he felt sorry for them because they were harassed and dejected, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, ‘The harvest is rich but the labourers are few, so ask the Lord of the harvest to send labourers to his harvest.’

OR: --------

Gospel Matthew 16:13-19 You are Peter and on this rock I will build my Church

When Jesus came to the region of Caesarea Philippi he put this question to his disciples, ‘Who do people say the Son of Man is?’ And they said, ‘Some say he is John the Baptist, some Elijah, and others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.’ ‘But you,’ he said ‘who do you say I am?’ Then Simon Peter spoke up, ‘You are the Christ,’ he said ‘the Son of the living God.’ Jesus replied, ‘Simon son of Jonah, you are a happy man! Because it was not flesh and blood that revealed this to you but my Father in heaven. So I now say to you: You are Peter and on this rock I will build my Church. And the gates of the underworld can never hold out against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven: whatever you bind on earth shall be considered bound in heaven; whatever you loose on earth shall be considered loosed in heaven.’

OR: --------

Gospel Matthew 23:8-12 The greatest among you must be your servant

Jesus said to his disciples, ‘You must not allow yourselves to be called Rabbi, since you have only one master, and you are all brothers. You must call no one on earth your father, since you have only one Father, and he is in heaven. Nor must you allow yourselves to be called teachers, for you have only one Teacher, the Christ. The greatest among you must be your servant. Anyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and anyone who humbles himself will exalted.’

OR: --------

Gospel Matthew 28:16-20 Go and make disciples of all nations

The eleven disciples set out for Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had arranged to meet them. When they saw him they fell down before him, though some hesitated. Jesus came up and spoke to them. He said, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go, therefore, make disciples of all the nations; baptise them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teach them to observe all the commands I gave you. And know that I am with you always; yes, to the end of time.’

OR: --------

Gospel Mark 1:14-20 I will make you into fishers of men

After John had been arrested, Jesus went into Galilee. There he proclaimed the Good News from God. ‘The time has come’ he said ‘and the kingdom of God is close at hand. Repent, and believe the Good News.’ As he was walking along by the Sea of Galilee he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net in the lake – for they were fishermen. And Jesus said to them, ‘Follow me and I will make you into fishers of men.’ And at once they left their nets and followed him. Going on a little further, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John; they too were in their boat, mending their nets. He called them at once and, leaving their father Zebedee in the boat with the men he employed, they went after him.

OR: --------

Gospel Mark 16:15-20 Go out to the whole world; proclaim the Good News

Jesus showed himself to the Eleven and said to them: ‘Go out to the whole world; proclaim the Good News to all creation. He who believes and is baptised will be saved; he who does not believe will be condemned. These are the signs that will be associated with believers: in my name they will cast out devils; they will have the gift of tongues; they will pick up snakes in their hands, and be unharmed should they drink deadly poison; they will lay their hands on the sick, who will recover.’ And so the Lord Jesus, after he had spoken to them, was taken up into heaven: there at the right hand of God he took his place, while they, going out, preached everywhere, the Lord working with them and confirming the word by the signs that accompanied it.

OR: --------

Gospel Luke 5:1-11 They left everything and followed him

Jesus was standing one day by the Lake of Gennesaret, with the crowd pressing round him listening to the word of God, when he caught sight of two boats close to the bank. The fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets. He got into one of the boats – it was Simon’s – and asked him to put out a little from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. When he had finished speaking he said to Simon, ‘Put out into deep water and pay out your nets for a catch.’ ‘Master,’ Simon replied, ‘we worked hard all night long and caught nothing, but if you say so, I will pay out the nets.’ And when they had done this they netted such a huge number of fish that their nets began to tear, so they signalled to their companions in the other boat to come and help them; when these came, they filled the two boats to sinking point. When Simon Peter saw this he fell at the knees of Jesus saying, ‘Leave me, Lord; I am a sinful man.’ For he and all his companions were completely overcome by the catch they had made; so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were Simon’s partners. But Jesus said to Simon, ‘Do not be afraid; from now on it is men you will catch.’ Then, bringing their boats back to land, they left everything and followed him.

OR: --------

Gospel Luke 10:1-9 Your peace will rest on that man

The Lord appointed seventy-two others and sent them out ahead of him, in pairs, to all the towns and places he himself was to visit. He said to them, ‘The harvest is rich but the labourers are few, so ask the Lord of the harvest to send labourers to his harvest. Start off now, but remember, I am sending you out like lambs among wolves. Carry no purse, no haversack, no sandals. Salute no one on the road. Whatever house you go into, let your first words be, “Peace to this house!” And if a man of peace lives there, your peace will go and rest on him; if not, it will come back to you. Stay in the same house, taking what food and drink they have to offer, for the labourer deserves his wages; do not move from house to house. Whenever you go into a town where they make you welcome, eat what is set before you. Cure those in it who are sick, and say, “The kingdom of God is very near to you.”’

OR: --------

Gospel Luke 22:24-30 I confer a kingdom on you, just as the Father conferred one on me

A dispute arose between the disciples about which should be reckoned the greatest, but Jesus said to them: ‘Among pagans it is the kings who lord it over them, and those who have authority over them are given the title Benefactor. This must not happen with you. No; the greatest among you must behave as if he were the youngest, the leader as if he were the one who serves. For who is the greater: the one at table or the one who serves? The one at table, surely? Yet here am I among you as one who serves! ‘You are the men who have stood by me faithfully in my trials; and now I confer a kingdom on you, just as my Father conferred one on me: you will eat and drink at my table in my kingdom, and you will sit on thrones to judge the twelve tribes of Israel.’

OR: --------

Gospel John 10:11-16 The good shepherd is one who lays down his life for his sheep

Jesus said:

‘I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd is one who lays down his life for his sheep. The hired man, since he is not the shepherd and the sheep do not belong to him, abandons the sheep and runs away as soon as he sees a wolf coming, and then the wolf attacks and scatters the sheep; this is because he is only a hired man and has no concern for the sheep.

‘I am the good shepherd; I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for my sheep. And there are other sheep I have that are not of this fold, and these I have to lead as well. They too will listen to my voice, and there will be only one flock, and one shepherd.’

OR: --------

Gospel John 15:9-17 You are my friends if you do what I command you

Jesus said to his disciples:

‘As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you. Remain in my love. If you keep my commandments you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and remain in his love. I have told you this so that my own joy may be in you and your joy be complete. This is my commandment: love one another, as I have loved you. A man can have no greater love than to lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends, if you do what I command you. I shall not call you servants any more, because a servant does not know his master’s business; I call you friends, because I have made known to you everything I have learnt from my Father. You did not choose me: no, I chose you; and I commissioned you to go out and to bear fruit, fruit that will last; and then the Father will give you anything you ask him in my name. What I command you is to love one another.’

Or:

Gospel John 21:15-17 Feed my lambs, feed my sheep.

Jesus showed himself to his disciples, and after they had eaten he said to Simon Peter, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me more than these others do?’ He answered, ‘Yes Lord, you know I love you.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Feed my lambs.’ A second time he said to him, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me?’ He replied, ‘Yes, Lord, you know I love you.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Look after my sheep.’ Then he said to him a third time, ‘Simon son of John, do you love me?’ Peter was upset that he asked him the third time, ‘Do you love me?’ and said, ‘Lord, you know everything; you know I love you.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Feed my sheep.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[amicidomenicani]

Question Dear father Angelo, Thank you so much for the answer you gave me about the heroic act. It's June and I'm still swinging between serenity and depression. I've been writing to you for a long time and I keep on doing it because I trust you greatly. Father, you know that I'm starting to think that I'll never get free from this scruple/temptation (I don't know what to call it anymore!). There is one thing that keeps challenging my faith, you should know this by now. Lately, the attacks have begun from your answers; I admire you so much and It's painful to see that my temptations also start from your answers. Father, let me tell you what happened: I have scoured your entire site through the search engine (which is really accurate and fast, I must say) and I have found various questions about hell and  corresponding answers. There was this specific question (which was exactly what I wanted to know): "How can parents not suffer knowing that their son is in hell"; well, I read the answer carefully... and that's when it started... once I reached this section: "Equally in Heaven, as they contemplate the punishment of the wicked, the saints will be filled with joy by considering their own deliverance in virtue of Christ's blood" (cf. Summa Theologiae, Supplement, 94, 3). My temptation (to express it in vocal form) shouted: "I WAS RIGHT! Look... they rejoice as if to say 'thank God we're not like them'. Now tell me, Salvatore, how does all this sound to you? Take for example two people who love each other; once in the afterlife, one is in Heaven and the other in hell: the latter hates the former who rejoices for his deliverance, not even thinking about the other's suffering. What happened to their mutual love?". And that, father, shut me down. I didn't know how to react to this temptation. My heart is broken, but does it tell the truth? Is it real that if two people end up in different places after death their love vanishes? I couldn't withstand this thought, father. I hope you'll enlighten me. Answer My dear, 1. In Heaven there will be a transformation.  We will love as God loves, we will see everything as God does. 2.  We will see how much God has done to save everyone until their last moment. And we will also see the closure and stubbornness of those who didn't want to the very end to be loved by God. This is hell: the refusal to be loved by God and Heaven. 3.  God doesn't send anyone to hell; on the contrary, He does whatever is possible to reach the heart of man until the very last moment, and with infinite love. However, freedom can be used badly. It can be used to keep God out of the door forever. 4.  The Catechism of the Catholic Church rightly says that hell is the "self-exclusion from communion with God and the blessed" (CCC 1033). It also says that "To die in mortal sin without repenting and accepting God's merciful love means remaining separated from him forever by our own free choice" (Ib.). 5.  Now, let's get to your example: "Take two people who love each other; once in the afterlife, one is in Heaven and the other in hell: does the latter hate the former? And does the former rejoice for his deliverance, not even thinking about the other's suffering? What happened to their mutual  love?". I tell you that it is not true that those in Heaven don't even think about the souls in hell. It really is the opposite. However, those in Heaven see all things from another angle: the infinite and caring love of Jesus Christ for that person will be visible, and it will also be clear the stubbornness that stopped him from being loved by Christ and those with Him. Therefore, in the afterlife it will be seen that one of the two separated voluntarily and doesn't want to be loved by the other anymore. The soul in hell is obstinate on this and clearly says: I don't want to know anything about you because you loved Jesus Christ and still love Him with all your heart. 6. I understand that our human way

of expressing things isn't perfect. However, this is the substance of it. Regarding your final question "What happened to their mutual love?" I answer that one soul keeps loving, and actually loves wholeheartedly. The other has ceased loving and doesn't want to be loved anymore. I'll say it again: this is what hell is. It is ceasing to love and not wanting to be loved by anyone. I hope I've enlightened you. I wish you every good, bless you and assure you of remembrance to the Lord. Father Angelo

[flowercrown-bard]

I have a sentence for you...or a prompt. I don't know what I want you to do with it, but by god please do something:

"He doesn't have anxiety. He just has a god complex and no opposable thumbs!"

My darling nonny. First of all, what. Second of all, I love you and I love this prompt! I made the weirdest noise when I read it. I did not expect that second sentence XD

The thing is, I didn't know what I wanted to do with this prompt either...while being sober, so here's what my slightly tipsy brain came up with :D

word count: 2160

can be read platonic or romatic I think

content warnings: use of the name ‘Julian’ (not by Geralt), one very bad sexual innuendo (nothing sexual happens)

part 2

The spell hit Jaskier square in the chest, before Geralt had time to react and throw himself in front of him.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s eyes went wide, though not in fear but in anticipation, as they snapped over to the witcher. “Geralt, what’s happening?”

Helplessly but not overly concerned, Geralt watched as Jaskier’s arms took on an unnatural position, bent at his sides. The bard’s head started to bob.

Geralt blinked at him and turned to the young sorcerer that looked curiously at Jaskier.

“Why aren’t you more worried?” The mage furrowed his brows. “Shouldn’t he be terrified?”

He turned to Geralt, who only shrugged.

“This happens regularly,” Geralt replied and his lips twitched up. “Last month, he’s been hit by a truth spell and the month before, he drank a potion that made him invisible to all but Roach.” His smile turned into a grin. “That was a very peaceful time.”

“Excuse me?” Jaskier squawked, his head still bobbing. “You missed me!”

“I didn’t. I could still hear you.” Geralt turned his attention back to the sorcerer who stared at them as if they were insane. “So, what exactly does this spell do?” Almost casually, Geralt’s hand wandered to the sword strapped to his back. “It better not be anything actually dangerous.”

Jaskier might have gotten cocky with how easily Geralt was able to break curses with all the experience he now had, but that didn’t mean Geralt wasn’t prepared to fight anyone who meant to cause Jaskier true harm. Even if Jaskier thought himself near invincible by now.

“No, no!” The mage held up his hands. “It’s not dangerous. I swear! It’s just supposed to…” he swallowed, his eyes darting between Jaskier and Geralt, clearly trying to figure out which one was more dangerous: The armed witcher or the bard who didn’t seem to be bothered in the least by being cursed but seemed rather giddy at the prospect of finding out what was going to happen next – after all, curses made for the most exciting songs, according to the bard. “It’s supposed to make his appearance match his character.”

Jaskier opened his mouth, probably to say something along the lines of ‘I already am as beautiful on the outside as I am on the inside’, but instead of words, a loud cock-a-doodle-doo left Jaskier’s lips. For a second, he looked terrified, before his expression morphed into one of fury and he let out a tirade of what was probably supposed to be insults.

Geralt exchanged a look with the mage, drawing up one eyebrow, when Jaskier continued to cluck.

“Ah, well, you see,” the mage turned bright red, “Marx was quite sure that he,” he glanced at Jaskier, who suddenly shrunk, his hair turning bright red and rising up and turning into a coxcomb, “was a coward and would turn into a chicken.”

Jaskier gave the mage one final indignant glare, probably cursing his rival’s name, before his mouth turned into a beak and his face was no longer that of a human, capable of expressing such emotions.

“Your employer was wrong,” Geralt deadpanned. “Jaskier is anything but a coward.” With the corners of his lips twitching and a glint in his eyes, he added, “But he definitely can be a cocky bastard.”

Jaskier, the cock, fluttered with his wings in indignation and let out another crow, looking up at Geralt. Though Jaskier could no longer speak or make facial expressions, Geralt knew exactly what the pleading look Jaskier sent him meant.

Geralt knew a hundred and one ways to break a curse. But more importantly, he knew Jaskier.

And so, Geralt knew exactly what Jaskier needed him to do.

--

It was ridiculously easy to break into Valdo Marx’ quarters at night, even while carrying a rooster that never stopped clucking and fluttering his wings excitedly in one arm. Jaskier could count himself lucky that he hadn’t turned into a peacock. It might have been more fitting, if Geralt had anything to say about it, but it would have definitely made scaling the building and squeezing through the window together, much harder.

Once inside the troubadour’s rooms, Geralt set Jaskier down gently.

“Do your worst,” he said with a grin and watched Jaskier ruffle his feathers in excitement, before he darted across the room, tearing at Valdo Marx’ notebooks with his beak, tearing at the decorative pillows on the armchair and plucking the strings of the lute standing against a wall harshly enough with his claws that they nearly snapped.

Geralt grimaced at the sound, but leaned back against a wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest, watching in amusement as his best friend wreaked as much havoc in his rival’s rooms as possible.

The noise must have roused Valdo Marx from his sleep, for a muffled curse came through the closed door, presumably leading to the troubadour’s bed room. The sound of Valdo Marx jumping out of his bed and hasting towards his now destroyed living room was interrupted by Jaskier, who crowed again and fluttered his wings in an attempt to make himself taller, preparing to make an impression when Valdo finally saw him.

The door was flung open and a dishevelled troubadour appeared, staring in horror at the mess that was his living space.

“What in the name of –“

His eyes fell on Jaskier first, then he saw the witcher still leaning against the wall, pointedly casual. Realisation dawned on Valdo’s face, followed briefly by a flash of triumph, that instantly turned into regret when Jaskier began hacking at the notebooks with more glee than before, preening under the horrified attention of his new audience.

“Witcher,” Valdo said breathlessly. “Put a stop to this, this instant!”

Geralt lifted a brow. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I proved Julian is a coward.” He waved his hands through the air, his voice turning shrill with every second that his panic grew. “I get to see him anxious and he’s reacting very poorly and I have to face the consequences. I get it. I shouldn’t have hired that mage. Is that what you want to hear?”

Geralt let out a low hum, drawing it out longer than necessary, simply because he knew how much Jaskier enjoyed witnessing Valdo’s growing despair.

“You’re right, you’re the one who has to face the consequences for cursing him.”

Relief flooded Valdo’s face. “Great. Now make him stop!”

Jaskier looked Valdo directly in the eyes as he fluttered onto the table and ruined the remaining notes the troubadour had carefully arranged in neat piles on his desk in the least dignified way a bird could ruin something. Though Jaskier’s voice was stolen from him, the mess he left on the notes couldn’t have been a more obvious statement: Valdo’s songs were shit.

The slighted troubadour’s face turned red with fury.

“How dare you!” Valdo took a step towards the destructive rooster but thought better of it almost immediately. He settled on pointing an accusatory finger at Jaskier instead of risking coming anywhere near him. “You’re a cad and a coward! I should have known how poorly you’d react to being cursed – becoming panicked and being unable to control yourself!”

Geralt tilted his head to the side. “See, that’s the thing,” he said slowly, his voice even enough that only Jaskier would be able to tell how much he enjoyed this as well, “That’s where you are wrong. Jaskier isn’t a coward. His fluttering around and destroying things right now? He’s not having anxiety. He just has a god complex and no opposable thumbs!" Geralt gave Valdo a shit-eating grin. “And he’s got a crow to pluck with you.”

“He-“ Valdo visibly had to restrain himself. “Help me, witcher. You can’t just let this monster destroy my property. He…he-!”

“You want me to get rid of a monster for you?”

Valdo nodded eagerly.

Geralt exchanged a look with Jaskier and shrugged.

“I don’t work for free.”

Valdo spluttered. “You can’t be serious.”

Geralt remained silent and Jaskier took a threatening step towards the open door to Valdo’s bedroom, obviously with the intent of destroying Valdo’s bed in any way he could think of. Panic flashed across Valdo’s face.

“I’ll pay you!” he shouted quickly. “I – I’ll write a sing about you. If you help me, I’ll sing about…” his eyes darted around the room, clearly struggling to come up with something on the spot. His gaze found Jaskier, before he grabbed Geralt’s arm, licking his lips nervously, or perhaps in an attempt to look seductive, “ – about how masterfully you handle cock.”

Jaskier froze and Geralt could see the moment when Valdo realised that he had said the wrong fucking thing.

If cocks could look murderous, Jaskier definitely did in this moment.

Geralt couldn’t tell if his rage came from the prospect of Valdo writing a song about this encounter and making a profit out of it, or if he was indignant because Jaskier had had the exact same idea for a song. Or perhaps he had a problem with Valdo’s barely concealed attempt at compromising Geralt, something Jaskier himself had taken great joy in doing with the worst possible pick-up lines, since the day they had met.

Whatever the reason for his anger, Jaskier took a deliberate pause, in which Valdo had enough time to regret every decision that had led up to this moment, before he charged at the troubadour, fluttering his wings and jumping up into Valdo’s face, clawing at his curls and tearing at his lacy night shirt.

“Witcher!” Valdo screeched, not unlike a rooster himself, and waved his arms to shoo Jaskier off – unsuccessfully. “Make him go away! Break the fucking curse! I – I’ll pay you! Twenty crowns!”

“Seventy,” Geralt deadpanned. No one in their right mind would pay that much coin, but Valdo Marx was evidently desperate and his decision was helped along by the rooster, who’s beak came dangerously close to tugging at the troubadour’s moustache.

“Fine! I’ll pay you seventy crowns.” Valdo’s voice broke in his blind panic. He would likely be unable to sing the next day, from all the shouting he did. “Just get him off of me!”

Geralt waited another heartbeat, granting Jaskier a last moment of rightful – and undoubtedly petty – vengeance, before pushing off the wall, opening his arms invitingly.

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier clucked in disappointment and pecked one last time at Valdo’s hair, before fluttering into Geralt’s arms.

The witcher left the troubadour’s rooms with his best friend, still in the form of a very smug cock in his arms, seventy crows richer and an experience he and Jaskier would laugh about many times over the next years.

--

As Geralt sat the rooster down on the bed at the room they had rented and let himself fall onto the bed next to him, Jaskier looked incredibly pleased with himself, preening and making noises, as if recounting the happenings, though Geralt had witnessed them first- hand.

When Geralt tilted his head in amusement, Jaskier seemed to realise that he still had no voice – or opposable thumbs - and let out a rather loud and obnoxious noise.

“Sorry,” Geralt said with a shit-eating grin, “I have no idea what you want from me. You’ll have to speak more clearly.”

Jaskier glared at him and fluttered closer to tug at Geralt’s hair impatiently.

Geralt chuckled and ran a hand over Jaskier’s soft feathers, making the bird-bard relax under his ministrations, though it was clear that Jaskier did so very reluctantly and would hold a grudge, if Geralt didn’t break the curse in the next five minutes.

Geralt hummed thoughtfully as he petted Jaskier.

“Just for the record, I thought taking revenge on Marx was a terrible idea,” he said, and when Jaskier clucked reproachfully, he added, “but it was quite impressive. And I had a lot of fun watching you.”

Geralt hadn’t known that cocks had the ability to look proud, but Jaskier somehow managed to do just that.

“In fact,” Geralt said slowly, already knowing that Jaskier would agree, once he heard Geralt’s full proposition, “how would you like to wait just a little longer before I break the curse?”

Jaskier pecked at Geralt’s fingers and glared at him.

“Come to Kaer Morhen with me,” Geralt said, flicking his fingers lightly against Jaskier’s beak. At his words, Jaskier perked up, cocking his head to the side curiously.

“Last winter, Lambert destroyed my room with a moon dust bomb. The damn silver shavings are still everywhere.” Geralt’s lips stretched into a wolfish grin. “I’m sure, as my ‘best friend in the whole wide world’, you wouldn’t mind returning the favour and wreaking a little havoc in my brother’s room. I couldn’t imagine anyone would be better suited for that job than you.”

Jaskier fluttered excitedly into Geralt’s lap and the sound he made in response to Geralt’s words could only be described as incredibly cocky.

[thefanficmonster]

idk if u know him but i just found out that technoblade has cancer and now im really sad but it did get me a lil curious to see a small corpse x reader scenario or headcanons where reader announces they have cancer in the midst of playing with corpse and their friends on stream?

Sorry for the long wait dear but here is your request finally fulfilled. Because of my long queue I decided to go for headcanons and I hope you don't mind. If you want a full fic of this concept don't hesitate to let me know ~ XOXO, Vy 💕

Streamer gang & Reader (Gender Neutral)

TW: Mentions of suffering from cancer, Mentions of hospital visits and hospital treatment

- You had been running late for the stream you and the crew had arranged a few days prior - Because of certain problems with the system at you hospital, you had to attend your appointment that day instead of the day before, the timing clashing a bit with the timing of the stream - You sent Rae a quick text that you'd be late for the event, hoping she wouldn't ask why - And luckily she didn't - Truth be told, it's not like you were going to extreme lengths to hide your illness, you just didn't want you friends seeing you differently - Still, however, you were planning to tell them sooner or later - You always made up scenarios in your head of how it would go and only in a few were your news accepted lightly - You hated that you had to risk all those other, far less fortunate alternatives, but it was what it was and you had zero control of how they’d react so you were practically helpless in that field - That being said, you just let out a sigh every time your mind started going down that route - “Hey guys, sorry I’m late. The hospital messed up my appointment which was supposed to be YESTERDAY. So shout out to them, you guys suck. Just kidding, y’all keep me alive.” - Your friends chuckled at your comment, paying no mind to it as anything but a joke - “Time you switch hospitals then.” Toast nudges you jokingly - “Oh trust me, bro, that would be hella more complicated than just making appointments in my local one. All my paperwork, records, medical history, everything’s there. I can just about imagine how much of it would be lost if I moved.” - Corpse scoffs, amused, “Damn, you make it sound like you’re in and out of the hospital more than I am.” - You playfully roll your eyes even though he can’t see me, “Yeah, well having cancer does that to a person.” - The call goes quiet for a few moments, making you think back to what you just said, turning pale as a ghost, all you blood running cold - “Fuck-” Corpse is the first one to speak up, “That’s fucking horrible.” - “Why didn’t you tell us?” Rae follows him up, voice equally as concerned as Corpse’s, both of them clearly rattled by your confession - As is the rest of the game lobby - You fidget with your hands, your eyes stinging with sudden hot tears that are threatening to spill but you refuse to let them - The last thing you were expecting when imagining the aforementioned scenarios was crying - You thought you had come to terms with it long ago to the point where you can even joke about it but turns out you were wrong - “I-” You begin to speak but stutter because of the knot in your throat, “I didn’t want you guys to...pity me or see me any differently. I-..I wouldn’t be able to stand even you treating me like I’m fragile and overthinking everything you say in my presence.” - Your response is answered by another moment of silence before your racing mind is put to a slight ease by Corpse’s voice travelling through your headset - “Nothing will change, Y/N.” He says, tone still shaky but at least steadier than before, “You’re still the most badass impostor among us.” He pauses, “Pun was not intended, but I truly mean it.” - “Yeah, you’re still the same and so are we, this changes nothing.” Toast says reassuringly. - “However!” Rae interrupts, causing your heart to drop, “Do you promise to never again keep us in the dark about things going on in your life? We’re your friends and we wanna be there for you, don’t keep our hands tied.” - Your heart rose and dropped yet again but did so under the effect of a completely different emotion than before - joy - The tears prickling your eyes are now happy tears, ones you hadn’t let out in years - “I promise.” You say with a sniffle, “And one more thing...” - “Yeah?” Corpse says - “Thank you.”

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse  @sunnyrae-cessh  @ladykxxx08  @meowiemari  @renupf  @booklover76  @sra-verissimo  @beatrhizn  @blueberrystigma  @beatrhizn  @chicken-taco-burrito  @scorpios-echos

[queenshelby]

The Secret – Part Four/Final Part

Featuring: Cillian Murphy x Fem Reader

Words: 2050

Warnings: Smut

Tag List (Cillian Murphy):

@lilymurphy03  @deefigs @theflamecrystal   @desperate-and-broken  @weepingstudentfishhorse   @livinginfantaxy  @rosey1981  @atomicsoulcollecto  @peakyboyslover  @nerdy4itall  @elenavampire21  @hanster1998  @mariapaiva13  @fairypitou  @harry-is-my-sunflower  @zozeebo  @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa  @littlewierdalien  @sad-huffle-nerd  @theflamecrystal   @peakymalfoyscullymulder  @themissthang  @0ghostwriter0  @stylescanbeatmyback  @1-800-peakyblinders​ @datewithgianni  @momoneymolife  @ntmynouis

Cannot Tag (please check your settings):

@l0tsofpennies @margoo0 @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee  @daydreamingnymph  @fookingshelby  

-----------

Over the next two weeks, Cillian and you continued to keep your relationship a secret on set. You both believed that no one knew that you were seeing each other. But this was far from the truth. By that time, both Emma and Anthony knew about you. Yet they never spoke about it.

Anthony could understand why you and Cillian weren’t forthcoming about your relationship. You only just started working on set during this season of Peaky Blinders and Cillian was one of the producers. There would clearly be some controversy and gossip if people found out especially since there also was a rather large age gap between you.

Nonetheless, you hated to keep your relationship a secret especially when you saw other women on set showing some interest in Cillian.

There was one woman in particular who bothered you and this was Cillian’s new assistant Amanda.

She showed an obvious interest in Cillian and, being Cillian, he was oblivious about it which was somewhat adorable. He never noticed when women were crushing on him, yet he was the one who tried very hard to set everyone else up on dates.

After some filming during early hours of the morning, Amanda had yet another breakdown. It seemed that she couldn’t handle Cillian’s erratic schedule and, whilst you knew that Cillian was somewhat frustrated about it, he remained calm and even gentle, telling her not to worry too much about getting things wrong.

He was a patient and kind man and you loved exactly that about him, but when it came to Amanda, his kind and patient nature irritated you and you were just about to have your first argument.

In his trailer, you couldn’t help but confront him about his interactions with Amanda.

‘You do realise she is doing these things on purpose to get your attention, right?’ you sighed as Cillian read through his schedule for the remainder of the day. By that time, you both had already been up for five hours and you were tired after you had spent all night together with Cillian.

‘Are you jealous?’ Cillian chuckled with a grin on his face, not taking you seriously at all.

‘No, why would I be jealous?’ you asked annoyed just before Cillian took both of your hands into his and pulled you closer towards him.

‘Exactly. You have no reason to’ Cillian said before pressing his lips onto yours. ‘I am in love with you, no one else’ he added as your lips drifted apart.

‘I am just over this…us hiding our relationship from everyone. Despite, she is clearly taking it a bit far don’t you think?’ you pouted, waiting for Cillian to kiss you again.

‘She is very attentive, that’s for sure’ Cillian chuckled, ignoring your comment and your pout, but deep down inside, he was sick of it too. He didn’t like Amanda’s behaviour and he hated having to hide his feeling for you. He wanted to spend every night with you without guilt or having to worry about getting caught, especially after a long day of filming.

‘You aren’t taking me seriously Cilly’ you pouted again and, just after you did, Cillian pressed his lips back onto yours.

Just as you were sharing another passionate kiss, you heard a knock on the trailer door.

‘Cillian, it’s Amanda. Would you like to grab some lunch?’ she asked, causing you to roll your eyes once again with his lips still on yours.

Cillian pulled away and laughed quietly for a moment before he shouted out ‘Sorry Amanda, I can’t. Y/N and I are rehearsing the next scene’ Cillian said loudly but yet politely.

‘We are?’ you asked, causing Cillian to laugh and nod at the same time.

Amanda left shortly thereafter and, just as she did, you placed your thumb over Cillian’s lips suggestively.

‘Alright, so, let’s rehearse’ you whispered and pulled him even closer towards you. In response, with one swift movement, he sat you up on the trailer’s kitchen bench.

‘You do realise this next scene is between Tommy and Lizzie though, right?’ you smiled.

‘I don’t think Amanda realises’ Cillian chuckled before running both of his hands over your legs.

‘Well, you can think about me later during your takes with Natasha’ you giggled as you ran your hand over his crotch and began unbuckling his belt as he positioned himself in between your legs.

‘What are you doing?’ Cillian asked as you finally reached the zipper of his suit pants. You wouldn’t admit it, but you liked it when he was dressed as Thomas Shelby, in the whole and entire outfit.

‘Claiming what is mine Mr Shelby’ you whispered with a slight giggle, causing Cillian to chuckle.

‘The crew is outside’ Cillian said, trying to push your hand away from his already erect cock.

‘Then we'll have to be quiet, won't we’ you responded before freeing his member slowly.

Cillian lost his composure at that point. As usual, when you showed Cillian your desire for him, he was completely under your control, ready to give you whatever you wanted.

He let out a deep sigh as you began stroking his cock for a moment before jumping down from the counter bench again and bending forward to take him in your mouth.

In response to your wet lips touching his hard cock, Cillian took in another sharp breath. It was hard for him to resist you, almost impossible.

You swirled your tongue over the top half of his hard member before taking him all in right against the back of your throat, testing your gag reflex each time.

‘Fuck’ Cillian moaned as he gave into the sensation and you began to bob your head up and down his long shaft.

You continued that for five minutes and by the you were gushing with wetness and couldn't wait any longer, you needed him inside you.

You broke away from his swollen cock and stood up before turning around leaning forward over the counter, facing the door of trailer.

Without words, Cillian positioned himself behind you and lifted up your skirt gently before pushing down your panties in a haste.

He couldn't stop you from getting what you wanted and he was certainly willing to give it to you now that he was all worked up.

Within seconds, he lined himself up with your wet entrance and pushed forward.

‘Mmm, god damn’ you whispered in blissful joy as he instantly hit your sweet spot. He always felt so good when he entered you, stretching and filling you the way he did.

‘Shhhhhh’ Cillian whispered as he began to move in and out of you slowly.

You adjusted yourself around Cillian’s cock and grounded into him, pushing back against him. You wanted him to take you hard, claim you. He grunted his approval as you started bouncing backwards and, as he pushed forwards with several heavy thrusts, you felt like he was hitting you in the throat with each thrust into your centre.

Cillian held your hips, urging you to bounce harder each time and you almost felt him pushing you into the counter with each thrust.

You knew this had to end quickly and, unlike other times where you would try and draw out your high for as long as possible, you let go as he slammed into you over and over again.

All hell broke loose in your body when Cillian reached between your legs to rub his fingers over your clit at the same time he thrusted into you. Stars shot through your vision and you thought you might pass out from the pleasure. You felt Cillian spasm inside you and a flood of his wet cum started leaking from your core.

Your orgasms washed over you in sync and so were you uncontrolled moans as, all of a sudden, the door to Cillian’s trailer opened.

‘Fuck’ Cillian shouted all of a sudden as he pulled out of you and quickly pulled up his pants.

Luckily, anything other than your upper bodies was covered by the counter front of the kitchenette. Nonetheless, it was obvious to anyone what you were doing as Cillian was leaning over you and his face rested on your neck before the door opened suddenly.

You wanted to sink to the ground with embarrassment right then and there as you saw Finn’s face, flushed and full of questions.

‘Amanda organised some sandwiches for you, saying you were busy rehearsing’ Finn said after he cleared his throat with a slight chuckle.

‘It’s not what it looks like’ you said with an equally flushed face.

‘Sure’ Finn said somewhat angrily as he placed the sandwiches onto the kitchen counter and walked out.

‘This…is bad’ Cillian said to you as Finn left and you nodded with agreement. You knew it was bad and unprofessional.

You pulled up your panties quickly and asked Cillian what he wanted to do now that Finn knew.

‘I will talk to him’ Cillian said just before he followed Finn, not knowing exactly what he would tell him just yet.

It took Cillian several minutes to catch up with Finn who, by that point, was furious about what he saw. Cillian knew that Finn was interested in you and Finn had asked Cillian for help several times, wanting to convince you to go on a date with him, to give him a chance.

‘Can we talk?’ Cillian asked as he finally found Finn down at the docks, preparing for his next scene.

‘So, you can find out who else I might be interested in and take your chances?’ Finn asked angrily as he put down his script.

‘Listen, I know it looks bad but I couldn’t tell anyone about it. I am sure you realise why’ Cillian said, causing Finn to nod.

‘Out of all women here you had to get involved with the one woman I am interested in’ Finn said, still annoyed about Cillian’s actions.

‘It was Y/N who pursued me and didn’t exactly plan for this to happen, falling for a woman half my age. It just happened’ Cillian said as he sat down next to Finn.

‘How long?’ Finn asked curiously.

‘Eight weeks. We’ve been keeping it quiet’ Cillian explained, causing Finn to nod.

‘Right. I feel like an idiot now’ Finn responded.

‘I think it should be me who feels like the idiot’ Cillian responded just as Anthony arrived, getting the area ready for the next scene.

‘Anything wrong?’ Anthony asked, causing Cillian to look at Finn with questions running through his mind.

Finn shook his head before telling Cillian politely that he needed to get ready for his next scene with Paul.

Cillian nodded and thanked Finn for his time before making his way back to you.

‘What did he say?’ you asked, desperately wanting to know where this would leave you and Cillian after the recent encounter.

‘Not much really, but I think we need to make our relationship public’ Cillian sighed.

‘Is he going to tell anyone?’ you asked worried.

‘That he caught us having sex in my trailer? Probably not’ Cillian laughed. ‘But, I think that we should still come clean’ Cillian suggested and you nodded in agreement and it was that same evening, over dinner, that you announced your relationship to the crew and the cast.

To your surprise, it wasn’t a surprise at all to some of your friends and cast members that you were a couple. In fact, Anthony had hatched a bet with one of the other crew members who didn’t believe the rumours.

He won $50 pounds and your best friend was glad to know that she would get the apartment you shared to herself for the next few months until filming wrapped up since, no doubt, you preferred spending your nights with Cillian from now on.