#there is a lot of shit going on in the world

[velnna]

What are the races in your under garden comic? And how did you come up with them?

Oh oh oh juicy question

We're still exploring what "races" we have, how mixed they can get, etc etc, but I love yapping about this so I'll give a bit of a TL:DR

The Under Garden started off with me and my cowriter having a couple of DnD characters we got very attached to and didn't want to dispose, so the "basis" for their races was attached to DnD somewhat - namely drow and tiefling

HOWEVER when we decided to make it its own world we basically broke off with that and decided to, for starters, have a basic "elf" like race for humanoids. The range is basically any vaguely human creature with pointy ears, and then other physical attributes might determine where they're from but wouldn't exactly count as a whole separate thing.

When we worked out some of the large scale history of the world, we decided as well that the people we first interact with, with skin in shades of purple/blue and hair in shades of silver, would have been dominant at some point, then driven to seclusion in small pockets of the world. Meaning that if someone were to look vaguely.. "drowish" I suppose, they'd be linked to this ancient powerful people and the few places they're known to still exist in. They've got the longest lifespan (~250 years) and are also more intertwined with the high level magic system in this world.

For example:

From here we sort of made room for types of elf we haven't pinned down yet, and will probably parallel anything from bluer "sea" elves to stockier more dwarf-like people, and for all intended purposes even if someone just looks like a human they're a flavour of elf. For example:

And again, the further you go from the silver hair - purpleish skin combo the less connection you have to the OG magic dwellers. There's more nuance to the magic system but that's the gist of it.

ASIDE FROM ELVES HOWEVER we now get into what we decided to do with the "tiefling" side of it. The thought process here was funny because we had a character inspired by a cyborg but no way to have actual cyborg shit justified in this world without an extra layer of complication. So I was like yo what if he's like a bug instead. Exoskeleton vibes n all. So then we decided fuck it out more wack looking people will be mostly inspired by bugs. Within them you DO have a bigger variety of "races", lifespans, physiologies, etc, and there's a lot of room for us to wiggle. They're generally non magical and can cross breed with elves so bugness is also a spectrum.

Some bugs:

Some bug hybrids:

Basically anything with a weird number of limbs, eyes, odd scleras, exoskeletons, wings, etc is some flavour of bug or bug hybrid. They tend to be as far removed from magic as possible.

Obviously there's a bunch of more and lesser known types of bugs and the sheer diversity makes for some interesting worldbuilding questions and dynamics but as a whole it's a work in progress

*takes a bow*

[hectorthedoggo]

I will put this in ao3 and edit when i have the means to. but. @kani-miso it's 0009 sibs i thought of you and decided to make this 🎀🎀

UPDATE I ACIDENTALLY DELETED THE TAB WITH MY EDITS AO3 is going to kill me

“Alright. Milgram's up.” The creature stayed. Es stayed frozen from where they were sitting on the couch. Oh God. What's the consequences of my verdicts?

Wait. Up? This is Trial 2?

They disregarded that. It must be a mistake.

If these verdicts even are mine, I can’t tell. I've been dreading this. I'm scared. They clutched their arms, trying to gain some warmth, some friction, for what was to happen next.

Jackalope narrowed his eyes at them. “A nervous one, aren't you now. Anyways, so since the administrators decided that you were too unstable, you'll go free. Congrats.

Oh yeah, and the verdicts didn't really have consequences, it was just a little social experiment. It doesn't matter. Good luck surviving in the real world!”

What. What the heck is he talking about? “Wha- What do you mean- Who's the admin- wah!”

They felt a pulling sensation, and suddenly, they were standing in a Walmart™ parking lot. The only other person nearby was Mikoto Kayano.

But, nobody was dead. He was in his original clothes, but. Wait, where are we? What's this big sign that says ‘Walmart’?

What is a Walmart, and where the hell did Milgram go?

They also had a little pack with them, and upon opening it, there was a little message printed out. Nothing else.

‘mikoto is your legal sibling btw. gl lmao be glad I even gave you this note ur probably my favorite warden - Jackalope (professional child neglecter)’

At least the pack looked cool looked cool…

Es was about to have a mental breakdown. Why did Milgram leave me like this? Is this what I am to them?

“Woah, what happened?” Mikoto wondered, “Hey, Es. Did you do this? Is Milgram over? Did they identify it to be a mistake?”

They started shaking. They threw me out like garbage. I…

“Es?”

They sniffled at the situation. I’m… garbage. Because, as my usual logic says, I am what Milgram deems me to be.

“I- I have no idea…” they extended the last vowel to emphasize how little idea they had.

They threw the note on the ground --- or at least tried to, it just flew away, right into Mikoto’s hands ---, and started to sob.

The tables had turned. Mikoto looked like he knew why he was here, Es didn’t (nande boku ga koko ni iruyo). It was genetic.

Meanwhile, Mikoto had gotten the note, and he read it. “Wh- huh?”

He stared over at Es. “Es, this is a mistake, right?”

“That is the least of my worries right now, pudding boy!” they snapped at him, instead channeling their sadness into aggression.

He completely disregarded their feelings, to the point where he might not have even heard them. “Right… my mom did mention that our father got remarried. Wah, Suu! You’re my little sib!”

He went up to their grieving form, and gave them a little fistbump, lifting up their unwilling arm to do so. Why did he do that? Last time we touched, John was beating the shit out of me.

A random car pulled up into the Walmart™ parking lot, and the window unrolled. 

It was a woman with brownish hair, who looked like Mikoto. “Oh, you’re the other sibling that your father was talking about. You two can just get in the back in the car, your sister’s taking shotgun. Nice to meet you!”

Why the fuck does Mikoto’s sister have a shotgun? Are they all like this?

Mikoto followed in with them, and buckled in. Es had no idea what was going on.

They could not find the seatbelt, too busy processing the upheaval of their life in the past 5 minutes.

“Yo, sib. The seatbelt’s over there.” Mikoto smiled and gave a thumbs up, like a reliable older brother. “I saw it.” I did not see it.

They touched it, and got stung by the heat. Their, wait, no, Mikoto’s sister turned back at their sound of pain, turning off her phone. “Ah, yeah. It’s summer, don’t touch it.”

They scowled, forgetting their dread in the face of the overheated car seatbelt.

The car chimed, and the keys jingled. “Alright, folks! You two seem pretty tired from wherever the heck you disappeared to. Would you wanna go home, or get some ice cream?”

The sister turned around, and smiled a little wide. “My dear siblings, do you know the answer? There is a correct one.”

Es scowled. “What the fuck is an ice cream. Why is the cream ice?”

“Are you serious?” She scrutinized their face, finding the truth, “Step on it, Ma.” She went back to her phone, probably texting her friends about this weird kid in a warden outfit that was apparently her sibling now.

Mikoto looked over at Es and shrugged, like a comical cartoon character. Like a ‘what can you do?’.

I won’t allow these insolent- wait, these aren’t prisoners. Unless the sister girl did something with that shotgun of hers. It would run in the family, I guess.

Wait, that would mean that I’m also violent. Nevermind.

The 11th cell came to mind, and they dismissed it. Wrong kinda fic, buddy. We staying fluff here.

“So, Mikoto. And, what’s your name?”

“Es. I think?”

The woman put on her strict mother voice. “... okay. Mikoto and Es. What was so important that you had to completely disappear for like a years. No note! Job gone! You could’ve died, for all I knew! Es, sweetie, I’m sure it was Mikoto’s fault. He’s such a bad influence.”

Es raised their hand to ask a question, slightly flustered from the pet name. She indicated that they could speak.

They decided to just reveal it all. “Um, Mikoto committed murder… eh, Mikoto, he has DID and was stressed from his job, hence the murder. And I was the warden of the prison that held him and 9 others.”

Mikoto lost all of his composure at all of his darkest secrets being revealed, the dramatic guy he was. “What… Es, don’t… I… that’s not… I don’t have DID? I was doing… I was doing just…”

He seemed a little overwhelmed at the prospect of having to unpack all of the luggage that Es laid out, so another guy came out. “I am not straight. Oh- sorry, hi, I’m John. I’m the guy who totally committed the murder 100% trust guys c’mon vote mikoto innocent 2024-”

I already had to deal with that yapping last interrogation. Es shut him up with their hand. He waved it away. “If you’re gonna say that shit about Mikoto, Es hasn’t been going to bed at a healthy time or eating healthy.”

They were betrayed at his reveal. “I can’t believe you.”

“We’re going to fix that, Es. You’re going to get the regular kid treatment.” The mother nodded, eyes steeling. Oh no, not the normal teen treatment!

John had some other stuff going on behind there. Maybe Mikoto’s cheesiness had rubbed off on him. “As soon as we get out of this car I’m giving you a hug.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Yes.”

Speaking of unwarranted physical contact. “Oh yeah, mo- Mikoto’s mother, um… John beat me up in Trial 1.”

“SNITCH?!”

“What’cha gonna do about it?”

“Give you another hug.” He deviously grinned, knowing that wasn’t the answer they expected or an answer they liked.

“I won’t allow it.” But, they weren’t the warden anymore. They couldn’t deflect affection as well as they used to.

The sister was unbothered by this discourse. Perhaps it hasn’t quite set in. “I guess I got two extra surprise siblings. Cool.”

-

When they got to the ice cream store after a prolonged amount of awkward silence, the moment the car doors opened, the chase was on.

Es nearly ran into oncoming traffic to escape any chance at being loved, as one does, but John grabbed them and lifted them up by their elbows, giving them a hug once they were out of the street.

“Jeez, you’re light. C’mon, we’re getting ice cream and you aren’t gonna kill yourself.”

“‘M not!” They kicked their legs to try and get the man off of them. But, they had about the strength of a 5 week old kitten compared to him, without the claws.

He plopped them down, Es seething about their lack of power they had here.

The sister turned off her phone, finally, and turned to Es. “Okay, I just wanna make sure. Were you joking earlier about not having ice cream before?”

“I’m the prison warden of Milgram, I don’t need-”

She interrupted them before they could start monologuing and crying about how Milgram didn’t exist anymore. “You’re getting Birthday Bash.”

“What- but it’s not my birthday?” It could be, for all I know, but she’s doesn’t have to know that.

“Ok, what is your birthday?” Dammit.

“Great question!” Es stared into space, tone full of sarcasm. Milgram never tells me shit.

“Mikoto or whoever the hell you are, do you know their birthday?”

“Nah.” John responded. “By the way, um, this kid was the one who named me John, because they thought it would be funny to be a know-it-all and reference some English name.”

She looked over at Es. “No offense, but you suck at naming. I think we were all thinking that.” We…

Es tried to defend their horrible naming skills. “What?! Who else was gonna name him?”

Mikoto’s mother decided to join in the conversation, but left after putting her two cents in. “Me. Or Mikoto, since he’s where John came from.”

John smirked. “See, Es! But the name has stuck, so you owe me.”

Es crossed their arms, huffing. “I don’t owe you anything. You beat me up that one time, so if anything, you owe me!”

He couldn’t exactly find a defense for that, so he took their hat off their head and held it as high as he could reach, exposing their hat hair. “Hey!”

They jumped to get it, but to no avail. They looked pathetic.

Meanwhile, Mikoto’s mother and sister had already gone in to order. Order, like what a judge says?

It’s all a law reference.

John grinned. “You're a silly little creature, Suu.”

“You're not Mikoto, stop that.” I do not like that weird ass nickname.

He put on an innocent face. “What do you mean? I'm Mikoto, and I love my company so much! Hahaha, I would never commit murder. This must be a mistake!”

Es was somewhat surprised. “That's stuff he actually said in his first trial, how did you get it so accurately?”

“I hear this guy's internal monologue.”

That’ll do it. “Ah.”

 He threw their hat into the air while they were distracted, and they stepped back in surprise. He caught it. “Nice hat.”

“Get away from-”

The rest of the family brought over ice cream, and Es was handed a mash of colors in theirs that seemed unnatural.

“Is this food?”

“Eat it.” John asserted.

They shrugged. If this is poison, at least I don't have to worry about Milgram and all that stuff.

Worst case scenario, it doesn't kill me and it tastes bad. I'm not sure what my best case scenario is. Dying? It tasting good? We’ll see.

They bit down on the food with aggression, and it tasted… amazing, other than the fact that it was cold.

“What the heck is this? In a good way?” They temporarily forgot about their slight suicidal ideation.

“Bro has never heard of the wonders of overly processed foods…” the sister commented, smirking.

Why is she calling me bro? Huh? If I question her, will she bring out the shotgun? I'm scared of her. She’s my older sister now, isn’t she…

To be honest, Kotoko was scarier. I’ll be fine.

She wasn’t addicted to her phone, though… wait, right. Kotoko kinda was.

They grinned, and momentarily forgot their troubles in the face of their action. I’m so much better than these people. This tastes good. Mmm… ice cream… I like it…

They did get a brain freeze, and brought their hand up to their forehead in pain.

They got their head patted by John, who had somehow consumed his (larger serving of) ice cream. “Do you want the rest of that?”

“Yes?” They answered.

He grabbed a spoon, and took a bite of their ice cream. “Wow, this tastes nice.”

Es disliked the younger sibling experience. “Give me my hat back. I didn’t forget about that.”

“No.” However, he made a mistake: it happened to be in grabbing range. They quickly snatched it, and grinned in pride.

But, while they were distracted with John, they forgot about their other older sibling, who took a sizable amount of their precious ice cream.

I just discovered ice cream. Will they stop stealing it?

-

They were next in a car, making sure to avoid the seatbelt this time. About ⅓ of their ice cream had been usurped, and they didn't have the strength to defend it.

But, it wasn’t that bad. These people are nice…

I… I guess this is my life now? It’s not that bad.

Finally, there were no catches to this fact.

They would have to buy new clothes, the warden outfit was scratchy.

[kingofbodyrolls]

End of the World (m) | myg | teaser

→ Summary: Your government has been telling you to prepare for war, just as a precaution given the recent political changes around your country. Did you listen and prepare? No. Are you paying the price now, friends all but gone, and your city burned to pieces? Yes. Survival instincts kicking in, you search for a place to rest, nourish your battered and hungry body, only to find yourself at the porch of a stranger. Will he help you, or leave you to your own demise?  → Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female) → Genres/AUs: science fiction, apocalyptic, survival, co-dependency to stay alive + heavy angst, fluff and smut. → Tropes: strangers to lovers, forced proximity (because love that shit) → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: still writing (approx 10-20k) it’s a one-shot! → Author’s note: hiya. I’m currently writing this apocalyptic story with Yoongi, because… well. I’m fucking scared. So this is me working through and with my fear for something that I’m afraid is actually going to happen. We don’t need to talk about it, because a lot of bad shit is happening all over the world 😭 This is purely a story, though made up by my fears, yeah. Anyway, it’s okay if you’re not into it! The vibe for it is like The Last of Us and maybe a bit Fallout, I think if you enjoy that type of stuff, you’ll enjoy this one too. But it’s really heavy, but there’s a decent amount of fluff to balance it out, because, it’s still a fanfiction and it wouldn’t be that without some good old fluff and smut 🥰

You know you must move, but before you leave, there’s a promise to fulfill for Yuri.

You relieve yourself and step back onto the road, eyes fixed on the distant horizon that seems miraculously untouched by the ravages of war. That glimmer of hope pulls you forward. You have to reach it. No matter the distance, no matter the obstacles, you must get there. 

It’s your only chance.

You walk and walk—days blur into weeks. Your clothes hang off your frame, tattered and too big. Bombings have become a constant backdrop, each explosion a distant rumble you barely acknowledge. The earth’s violent shudders no longer faze you. Hunger gnaws at you, a relentless companion, its grip tightening until you can’t even remember your last meal. Water, your only steadfast ally, has kept you moving; without it, you’d have long since fallen.

You trudge along the desolate highway, the city a distant speck on the horizon behind you. You have no sense of how far you’ve traveled, only that the remnants of your home have shrunk to a mere dot in your vision. The road stretches endlessly ahead, a bleak reminder of the ground yet to cover.

Dizziness is your constant companion now, your throat as parched as the Sahara despite your efforts to hydrate. Water is scarce, and you’ve been rationing it for days. Hope feels like a distant memory, and though the elusive horizon you’ve been chasing for weeks appears closer, it still seems maddeningly out of reach.

Your body feels like lead, your feet swollen and throbbing with every step. 

Sleep is a distant memory, haunted away by visions of blood-streaked faces, final breaths, and echoing cries. Bloodshot eyes and a disheveled appearance mark your struggle; you’re still in your tattered nightdress, stained with blood and reeking of fear and sweat. 

No food, no shower, just the relentless march through this wasteland.

You’ve lost track of time—is it still September? 

The biting cold cuts through you, your torn and ruined shoes barely offering any protection. You trudge onward, desperate to find shelter, weary of hiding in the bushes from strangers who might wish you harm. Paranoia grips you; every rustle in the distance, every shadow makes you jump. Trust is a luxury you can’t afford. You feel like you’re unraveling, teetering on the edge of sanity.

When your eyes land on a solitary house down a side street off the main road, you can hardly believe it. You’re nowhere near your end goal, the neighboring city, yet here it is—a lonesome house in the middle of fucking nowhere. You chuckle, convinced you’ve lost your mind. Why would there be a house out here, untouched by the chaos? You blink repeatedly, but the house remains. Your feet carry you forward, despite your spinning head and the jumbled mess of thoughts in your mind.

The house, partially concealed by tall trees and lush bushes miraculously untouched by the war, seems like a relic from a forgotten world. An old jeep, battered but intact, sits beside the porch with its white picket fence. You approach cautiously, every step feeling surreal, and lift your hand to knock. Your bloody knuckles leave crimson smears on the pristine white door, a stark reminder of the nightmare you can’t escape.

You lose track of time standing there, every second stretching into an eternity, before the door is abruptly ripped open. You find yourself staring down the barrel of a rifle.

“Who are you?” a male voice demands, harsh and suspicious, but the words barely register. Your vision blurs, darkness encroaching, and the last thing you feel is the hard impact of the porch floorboards against your head as you collapse.

→ Do you want to join Yoongi on a quest for survival as the world crumbles around you? Let me know and I’ll tag you when it drops 💜

Also please let me know if you’re interested, excited about it— otherwise I’m probably just gonna post it on my ao3 only, lol. I’m scared 🫣

[formulawolff]

xviii. separation - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 2.7k

warnings: cursing, toto being down bad, james being a dick (yet again), some angst, sexual innuendos, mentions of divorce, mentions of slut-shaming, addressing cheating allegations, yearning (lots of it!), yadayadayada

prev. | next.

“fuck!”

your voice carries through the garage as your helmet meets the floor, thudding against the concrete surface. ripping at your face covering, you suck in a breath of fresh air, in a vain attempt to cool down. 

yet, your heart still races, thumping against your rib-cage as james approaches you, disappointment painting his features. his lips are wound in a tight frown, brows knitted together, arms folded across his chest.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“what was that?” the inquiry is more like a demand, rough and coarse. 

“i don’t know,” you hiss, jaw clenching as you throw your hands up in the air, “the car was fucking slow, that’s what!”

“oh,” james scoffs, rolling his eyes, “like we haven’t poured millions upon millions of dollars into these cars. like we haven’t spent hours upon hours tinkering with them, making the necessary adjustments and upgrades so that we can compete. have you paused your little tantrum for a minute to stop and think about what happened? or are you going to act like a fucking child for the next twenty minutes?”

“the weather conditions aren’t helping,” a new voice cuts in. 

to your left, a tender hand envelops your shoulder, massaging it. 

the voice is so familiar. one you have become acquainted with over the last year or so. 

alex. 

“maybe you can talk some sense into our little drama queen over here,” james shakes his head, pointing a finger at you, “that was a shitty lap and you know it. i don’t even know what mercedes sees in you with a drive like that. i suggest you stop fantasizing about mr. wolff for two seconds and focus on racing for just one minute. maybe then you would have earned the pole position.”

the words are like venom-laced daggers, stabbing you in the chest with a fiery, searing pain. 

tears well up, heat billowing into your cheeks.

“f-fuck you,” you manage to sputter out, alex’s arms instinctively wrapping around your frame, protecting you from the nosy glances now flooding your way from all directions. 

“we’ll meet again later tonight,” james’ tone is hollow, nearly emotionless, “alex, good job on your qualifying time. see you soon.”

“thank you,” alex inhales a sharp breath, tugging on your suit, “come on, we should go cool down somewhere else. people are staring.”

“i can’t fucking stand this,” you mutter, sniffling slightly, “this is getting out of hand.”

“no shit,” alex leads you out of the garage and into the paddock, ensuring that you’re behind him, “what the fuck was that all about?”

ever since you arrived in montreal, the once loving, supportive bond you shared with james was deteriorating by the second, the team principal failing to hide his disapproval of your relationship with toto. 

james was like an adoptive father to you, as he was the one who convinced williams to sign you in the first place. he was the one who risked his reputation and position just so that you could sit behind the wheel of a formula one car. there were so many memories created, a rollercoaster of highs and lows. and well, since you spent more time with him traveling the world than your own family, you became very close. 

he would share his advice, and you would listen attentively. if he gave you pointers, you accepted them graciously. if he advocated for your rightful place in the sport, you would thank him, both in front of and behind cameras. 

there was even an episode dedicated to you on the latest season of drive to survive, where it covered the irreplaceable friendship that blossomed between you and the team principal. there were so many scenes of you laughing or joking with him, alex included. there was even a moment where he held onto you so tightly, murmuring endless strands of praise in your ear. that happened after your first race where you finished in the top ten, scoring points for the team. 

now, there was no more laughter. lately, you could barely get the hint of a smile. 

there was simply coldness. icy and unforgiving, constantly blanketing you with anxiety every time you interacted with him. 

and god, there was only so much more you could take. 

“do you want to text george?” alex’s voice brings you back to the present, “i can have him corral lewis, lando, and oscar. they can come over here for a bit. after all, we don’t have any obligations till later tonight.”

he’s led you to his designated space within the paddock, sitting you on one of the plush couches. his switch lays on the table, charging as he fiddles with his phone, scrolling absentmindedly.

“i don’t know how i would feel about hanging out with mercedes drivers in the williams paddock,” you let out an exasperated sigh, burying your head in your hands, “james may think i’m getting intel about toto.”

that was yet another dreadful aspect of the weekend. since you were so accustomed to toto’s presence, holding you oh so tightly against his chest, you weren’t sleeping as well as throughout the night. the delicate patches of skin underneath your eyes were a little puffy, from the exhaustion and the stress. 

so much for a successful weekend in canada. 

you could say goodbye to your hopes of a grand prix victory, especially with a position like fourteen. 

managing a podium position would take a miracle, as you would have to overtake at least eleven of the drivers. 

and with your current situation, you truly were in need of some sort of wish on a star. a miraculous event in which james would cast aside his disappointment for just one minute. where the pr teams didn’t dictate your every move. where you could do the impossible, fighting your way on the grid to the podium. 

where you could reunite with toto, burying your head in his chest as his brassy voice filled your ears.

“oh,” alex clears his throat, tossing a rectangular device in your direction, “here’s your phone girlypop.”

since you were a little paranoid about james confiscating your phone for the weekend, you had alex hide it in his space, somewhere out of sight. it was a little bit silly, but you were just afraid of how far the team principal would go to keep you in line, solely dedicated to competing. 

however, you wondered if james recalled that you were a human, someone who had feelings and did not need to be paraded around like some sort of exhibit or attraction. an adult who was completely capable of making her own decisions and doing as she pleased. 

after all, your relationship with toto was not affecting your racing. 

well, until now, when the two of you were forced into isolation from one another. 

and god only knew how much longer the two of you would be separated. 

only one more day to go. 

not like you were keeping track or anything. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“should we call her?”

“i don’t know mate,” a figure whistles, “he’s going absolutely ballistic over there.”

merely a dozen feet away from the pair stood toto wolff, his foot tapping against the concrete, his arms crossed tightly against his chest as engineers, mechanics, and crew mill about, mingling with one another. on his wrist, there’s a rubber band. which happened to be snapped against his skin numerous times throughout the course of the day. 

that was something lewis picked up the moment he walked into the garage hours ago, how the team principal was wound up tightly, seconds away from crumbling to pieces. 

to prevent any sort or irritability or lashing out, the team principal donned the band, fidgeting with it constantly. it wasn’t so much that he was snapping it, just the fact that nearly every minute, lewis could sense his distress, the way his fingers wrapped around the band.

although there was much to celebrate from this qualifying session, as george landed the pole position, lewis only six cars behind him, the team principal barely displayed any positive emotions. the only thing was the cracking of a quaint smile after the laps. he did congratulate the two, but there were few words.

the team principal’s state was understandable, as his beloved was near the bottom of the grid. additionally, there was the added pressure to maintain his distance, to remain separated for the duration of the weekend. 

to lewis, it seemed that separating the two only stressed toto out more, his mood significantly diminished, his aura exuding pure desperation as he yearned to catch a glimpse of his golden girl. the british driver even caught him staring forlornly at the screens whenever she appeared, shifting uneasily in his seat. 

it was pitiful, really. 

and quite shitty on the pr team’s part. their relationship did not take away from his ability to lead the team, nor tend to his duties. that blazing determination to crush their rivals was still there, just burning slightly dimmer than usual. 

however, lewis knew the reality of the situation. 

the team principal and american driver needed to maintain their distance for the sake of the teams. it was not a good look on the team’s end to allow a fifty-two year old man and twenty-two year old woman to frolic around the paddocks, their hands entwined. it was not favorable for their reputations to let them kiss in front of the cameras. the public was still leery of their relationship, so they would remain separated for the time being, just so that the pr teams could let it all blow over.

for a minute, the british driver considered spreading some hot gossip, something so insane that it was almost believable. just so that toto and his american girl could reunite, shielded from the spotlight. 

“not doing too hot over there, loverboy?” a chuckle flows from his lips as toto approaches them, a pout apparent, “oh come on, that was funny. it’s okay to laugh, you know.”

the team principal’s right eye twitches, “i think one of you just needs to take me out back and–”

“whoa, whoa, whoa,” george sticks out his hands, “we are not doing any of that! none of the sort!”

“jesus christ, toto,” lewis shakes his head, exhaling, “it hasn’t been that long.”

the team principal’s shoulders droop, darkened rings apparent under his eyes, “i haven’t been sleeping well. i haven’t been able to focus on the team. it sucks, it fucking sucks. all i can think about is her. she’s like a little damn parasite invading my brain.”

“well she does suck–” lewis begins, but is swiftly cut off by george.

“lewis.”

“i assume none of you have spoken with the media yet about the grid tomorrow?” for just a second, toto reverts back to his normal state, “we probably should. i do not want the press under the impression that i’ve been avoiding them.”

toto did have a point there.

“let’s go then,” lewis shrugs, “i’m sure they’ll all be swarming around the paddocks.”

the trio wave their goodbyes to the crew, toto announcing the time in which he would be returning to briefly go over any last minute modifications or adjustments. there are chirps in response, the team clearly more relaxed now that their team principal was seemingly back  in business. 

it was not long before they were approached by none other than rachel brookes, her blonde locks bouncing as she strolls up to them, microphone in hand. her sky sports f1 badge sways as a breeze rolls through, strands of hair following in suit. 

“mr. wolff! just a moment!”

of course she wished to speak with toto. 

this was going to be good. 

the team principal runs a hand through his hair, the words barely audible under his breath, “perhaps this was a mistake. fuck, fuck, fuck–”

yet, he straightens his posture as she flashes a radiant smile, bringing the mic to her lips, “i just have a few questions! it won’t be long!”

george and lewis take a step back, watching eagerly as the cameraman hoists the ginormous device on his shoulder, adjusting it so that it is balanced perfectly. rachel clears her throat, tucking a curl behind her ear. 

“good evening! we are here with none other than toto wolff, team principal of mercedes-amg petronas. for a couple of weeks now, we’ve been following the developing story of his intimate relationship with the williams driver.”

oh shit.

lewis’ eyes widen as his lips part, shock coursing through his veins. 

this was not going to end well. 

toto remains still, almost frozen as rachel continues, “so, mr. wolff, tell us what we have been dying to know. who was the one who initiated the relationship? how did it begin? was the divorce finalized?”

as the microphone shifts, hovering by his mouth, blood roars in the team principal’s ears, his mind scrambling, desperate to formulate some sort of coherent response that would satisfy rachel’s inquiry. 

it was almost as if he was a deer in headlights, completely and utterly beside himself as the car barreled closer and closer. 

briefly, the image of her flashes in mind. the way her plush lips curved into that stunning smile, the grin brighter than the sun. the way her eyes shone as they looked up at him, glittering just like the stars above. the way her voice was enough to make him weak, his knees buckling nearly every time she spoke. 

how she was effortlessly divine yet despicable. an angel in front of the world, her laughter ringing like bells, her light illuminating any room she entered. a siren behind closed doors, batting those lashes, her moans melodic and enticing, pulling him in deeper and deeper. 

fuck, was she perfect. so fucking perfect.

and he missed her, oh so dearly. 

she was only a few paddocks away, the distance between them measurable with some tape. 

well, if the mercedes pr team didn’t want him interacting with his sweet girl, the least he could do to fill that void was talk about her. 

fuck it. 

the world already was aware of their illicit relationship. 

why not give the people what they wanted?

“i initiated our relationship,” he starts, feeling a grin form as rachel’s eyes gleam, “i approached her a few months ago in bahrain. if we’re being honest here, i had been crushing on her for quite some time. since the news broke of her signing to williams in december of 2022.”

“wait,” rachel pauses, “you were attracted to her for over a year before initiating the relationship?”

“yes,” he shrugs his shoulder, head swiveling so that he was staring directly into the camera lens, “i am quite aware of the disapproval and rumors surrounding our relationship. but i am going to squash the whispers for good. to all of the naysayers who believe that i cheated on susie, you all are wrong. we separated almost three years ago, in july of 2021. i still have a deep respect and admiration for susie. 

she is not my scornful ex-wife. she is suzanne stoddart, an independent, strong woman who is the brains and brawn behind the f1 academy. she is the mother of our children, who works tirelessly so that she can give them the world. we are on good terms, have an amicable friendship, and co-parent our children together. of course, you all do not have to believe me but that is the truth. 

i love that american girl. rather than referring to her as a slut or homewrecker, perhaps you need to be reminded of who she is. she is the only woman in the history of the sport to ever win a grand prix. she is the first woman to win five grand prixes. she continues to shatter records, all of which are her own. she is the momentum that williams has been searching for all along. 

she is going to the 2024 world driver’s champion. i just know it.”

as he finishes, toto shrinks in his stature, unaware of how passionate his sentiment was. his cheeks burn, tinged with a crimson hue, heat flushing down his neck as rachel blinks. there’s a beat of silence before she speaks up once more.

“wow, toto. that is quite the strong statement.”

“well,” he licks his lips, “that is all i have to say. no further questions, please.”

the team principal shifts his body, starting to face lewis and george.

their expression is unreadable, eyes blown open, jaws hanging low. 

“wait!” rachel clicks her tongue, “one last question!”

“and that is?” toto tuts, “i said no more further questions–”

“you said that you loved that american driver. do you mind elaborating on that?”

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

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as always, thank you all so much for the endless support! if you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know! i love you all so much! <3

three chapters left!

[imjustreadinglmao]

Biscuits and Flowers 💐

Eris x Reader one shot

Summary: You want to surprise Eris but he’s stressed out and accidentally rejects you.

Warnings: angsty, hurt reader, slight miscommunication, work stress (High Lord Eris is working hard)

A/N: this ain’t shit… but Eris is still my baby

Word count: 1,4k

You were nervous as you walked into the Forrest House, your stomach fluttering as you made your way up to Eris’s office.

Since he became High Lord, a lot had changed.

You could finally hear children laughing and playing out on the streets.

Musicians were putting on shows for everyone to hear.

The land itself seemed to thrive. Trees grew taller than before, their leaves a more vibrant color.

Only the High Lord himself, you noticed, was more stressed and agitated than ever.

While out on a hunt last week, he told you how most of his nights were spent awake, plagued by his own thoughts and worries.

That’s when you decided that he needed something to put him in a better mood.

So you asked Elain to help you bake his favorite biscuits as a surprise.

On your way to the Forrest House, you also picked some lovely wildflowers, hoping they would bring a smile to his face.

And you had another important mission today…You wanted to ask him out on a date.

You two had been toeing around each other for a while now, but you were always too shy to say anything.

So today, after you gave him the gifts, you promised yourself, and Elain, you would ask him.

As you knocked on his office door, you remembered what Elain said to you: “That man is absolutely smitten with you. There is no world in which he would say no.”

You took a deep breath, pushed the door handle down, and stepped in.

Eris sat at his desk, his eyes so focused on the reports in front of him that he didn’t even notice you stepping into the room.

You walked over to him, flowers in one hand and a box filled with biscuits in the other.

A small smile played on your lips.

Everything will be fine, you thought.

Finally, as you halted in front of his desk, his head snapped up.

“Y/N, I wasn’t expecting you. What are you doing here?”

You let out a laugh and looked down, getting even more nervous with his gaze now fixed on you.

“Well, I am successful then. I know you’ve been so overwhelmed lately, so I wanted to surprise you.”

You held up the box and flowers to show him.

“I baked the biscuits you like so much. Oh, and I also got you some flowers.”

In the process of setting them down, you accidentally knocked over a candle.

The wax was now everywhere: on his papers and pens, the books and notebooks, even on his ink pad at the far end of the oak desk.

Your hands flew out to set the candle upright again, wax still pouring from it.

“Gods, I am so sorry, Eris. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

You looked at him, tears threatening to build because of how embarrassed you were.

Eris just stared at the ruined papers, hours of work probably gone to waste now.

You picked up one of the papers, wanting to wipe the wax off it. “Here, let me see if I can—”

“No.” Eris took the paper out of your hand. “Just leave it. It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. Eris was lying, he couldn’t even look at you.

You came here to cheer him up, and instead, you somehow managed to add more stress to his day.

And now you were standing in the middle of his office, shoulders slumped, guilt written all over your face.

“This wasn’t how I imagined this surprise to go.” You cringed, Eris still not looking at you.

“I didn’t want to cause you more stress. I can help you rewrite everything. And then maybe after that we can have dinner? I can make the tarts you like so much and—”

“Stop.” You flinched at his harsh tone.

“Just stop.” Eris shook his head in annoyance and sighed. “You’re making everything worse with your rambling.”

Your fingers began to tremble, and you quickly shoved them in the pockets of your dress so he wouldn’t see.

He had every right to be mad. And he also had every right to reject your dinner offer.

You almost expected him to say no, even before you destroyed half a day’s work with your mishap.

Hel, you didn’t even know if he saw you as any more than a good friend.

Sure, you were around each other often, thanks to your friendship with Elain and Lucien, but that didn’t mean he had to like you.

You must have misread the signs. Gods, this was beyond embarrassing.

He probably hated you now.

Tears gathered in your eyes. You looked up at the ceiling, refusing to let them drop.

You would cry later in the safety of your room, but not like this and surely not in front of him.

That would just make matters worse.

“You can leave now.” Eris’s voice broke you from your thoughts. You looked down again, amber eyes meeting yours.

His face was unreadable, detached even. As if his body was here but his mind elsewhere.

He made no attempt to say anything else, so you turned and walked out the door, leaving the biscuits and flowers on his desk.

As you walked back to your room, you didn’t stop to greet the servants or the other librarians.

The thoughts in your head were simply too loud to acknowledge anything else.

It wasn’t until you curled up on your bed that they finally stopped racing.

—————————

A knock sounded on Eris’s office door. Without waiting for a reply, the door opened and Lucien poked his head in.

“I didn’t think you would be here.”

Lucien closed the heavy oak door behind him and sauntered up to where Eris was sitting.

“Elain said you would already be gone by now.”

Eris looked up from where he was writing, his eyebrows furrowed. “And where exactly would I be if not here?”

Arms crossed and hip propped against the desk, Lucien replied, “Oh, I don’t know… maybe at dinner with a certain librarian?”

Eris just looked at him, mouth slightly agape, a clueless expression on his face.

“I know she was here and brought you these.”

Lucien held up the gifts you left for Eris.

“And you’re still working, so I’m assuming you said no?”

Eris was standing now, the reports before him completely forgotten. “What do you mean I said no?”

“Wait… she didn’t ask you?!” It was Lucien’s turn to act confused.

“I swear to the Mother, Lucien. If you don’t tell me right now what exactly is happening, I’m going to find methods to make you talk.”

Lucien held up his hands in surrender.

“I’ll tell you, no need to get all violent.”

He chuckled and continued,

“Y/N mentioned she was going to surprise you to cheer you up. I also overheard Y/N telling my mate that she wanted to invite you to dinner. I figured she’d asked you today, but maybe I misheard.”

Eris’s eyes were wide.

“She was going to ask me what?” he asked, hands digging into the wooden desk.

“She wanted to invite you to dinner. Just you and her.”

After a few seconds of silence, Lucien added, “like a date… I presume.”

At that, Eris went unrecognizably still.

Then he rounded the table and strode to the door, swinging it open with so much force that it crashed into the wall.

Lucien could only mutter a confused, “Where are you-” before Eris was out the door and down the hall.

Finding your room was easy. Eris had been there often enough to know the way.

He was running now, servants and nobles alike turning their heads and giving him confused looks.

But Eris couldn’t care less.

His priority was getting to you and explaining himself, plus a lot of begging for a second chance.

He slowed down and came to a stop in front of your room.

Right as he lifted his fist to knock, he heard Elain’s voice through the door.

“It’s going to be okay. This will pass.”

“You should have seen his face, Elain. I made such a fool of myself by even asking him. I shouldn’t be surprised that he rejected my offer. I basically ruined his entire day with my stupidity.”

Eris’s heart sank at that. He had been so stressed about the reports that he didn’t even hear you say anything.

The only thing he remembered was you stepping in to the office.

And then wax was pouring all over the documents and his mind just… left.

If he hadn’t dissociated, he would’ve- he would’ve said yes.

How could he not? You were the smartest, funniest and most beautiful fae he had ever laid eyes upon.

You were a ray of sunshine in his life, always brightening up his day.

And now you were in your room, crying because of him, and he could do nothing except stand there and listen to your muffled sobs.

A/N: don’t worry, they have their happy ever after. Eris finds her the next day. He apologises over and over again, takes her out to dinner and they have five beautiful children. 

[drdemonprince]

I often think of this "queerness is a thing you do (beyond consuming media or buying shit)" thing you talk a lot about, and I sympathize a lot with people struggling w/ this as a queer from a small town with nothing resembling of what people online call "queer community" because there are no queer centric spaces, no bars, no saunas, no theater groups, no anything unless you drive to get to it. But a while ago I realized I was paying too much attention to this and not enough to the fact that despite of where I live... most of my irl friends are queer. Like, the pre packaged "queer experience" centered in consuming thing is so pervasive you can feel you're not "being queer enough" when everybody you talk to irl is bi and/or trans, which is wild.

And if I'm allowed to be a hater for a second: this is so stupid for many reasons, but one of them being that I know queer ppl who got well-paid jobs and moved to a big city and have become the most boring bitches the world has ever seen. Yes, they have the chance to go to drag shows, but they also have "live laugh love" on their living room, a very aesthetic instagram, and stopped being politically involved in any way because they don't have many pressing needs anymore. Access to the consumerist version of "queer" can imo make you actually less queer if you're not careful (if we frame queerness as disruption, that is).

YO YES this is such a good response, thank you. Also people need to realize that we only have gay bars, saunas, book clubs, whatever the fuck because people BUILT THEM. Nobody is gonna rescue us from our isolation. We must build our way out. And when we create accessible, affordable or free community options we are doing a whole lot more to help ourselves and other wayward queer people than any gay bar owner in 2024 is ever gonna do.

[foxgirlmoth]

Okay, lets go through this apparent list of positives that Biden is in favor of.

Trans Rights: There have been multiple laws within states to fully close off especially trans kids rights to medical treatments and more. This is extremely current. Biden puts in minimal effort to look like he's doing anything at all for trans and queer rights, and there haven't really been any efforts aside from doing one or two proposals that immediately get shot down, and he's more than okay with that, hence why there's no longer really any push for this shit still. If you're trans, you can't piss in Utah without the risk of getting a fine right now. Even though these are state laws, the fact that there's been nearly zero effort federally to address this besides the title IX rule, speaks a lot about priorities in this area.

Abortion Access: Are we just forgetting the whole Roe V Wade getting overturned thing that happened in 2022? Are you really trying to say that this is good for abortion access? Abortion access has gotten actively worse.

Environmental Reform: Biden has endorsed extreme oil drilling projects and in general oil companies still love him! Not to mention the train crashes which we'll get to later.

Healthcare Reform: Covid-19 is still around and is sadly predicted to stay around for a long while. Healthcare is still private and a competitive field in the US and that causes major issues as well. If you look this up, you see articles titled along the lines of "Biden has lowered the cost of insurance" and meanwhile it just dropped in 2020 once during the pandemic but has been growing in cost.

Prescription Reform: Reading into this, not much has changed, which isn't surprising under genocide Joe. Drugs in the US are still higher than anywhere else in the world, and with healthcare issues still abundant, this is still a big issue.

Student Loan Forgiveness: Student debt is still extremely high in the US, and while Biden has rolled out some plans for forgiveness, it's a fraction of the debt, and he primarily uses the whole thing to win over swing states. This is a dangling carrot that provides very little overall.

Infrastructure Funding: Train crashes from 2020-present, worldwide, but notice the amount of US crashes! Neat! Quite literally just look up train crashes in the US during his presidency, there's too many to link here. It is also important to remember that Biden signed a bill to prevent rail strikes, preventing a lot of pressure to the government and the economy, which would have been a GOOD THING. Seriously, this guy has fucked up our environment and our rights in multiple ways.

Advocating Racial Equity: Structural racism within the US is still a huge problem, Biden hasn't addressed much. Also people are still in cages on the Mexico/US border (Which has been maintained by every president in office since it was established), with a very recent crackdown on the border.

Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion: Just. Look at the racial equity and trans rights sections above. Biden does the bare minimum, loves focusing on swing states, and all around uses the ol' carrot on a stick.

Vaccines and Public Health: Once again look above at sections on healthcare, abortion access, and prescription reform. Its bad. Remember how Covid-19 vaccines aren't being continued for free?

Criminal Justice Reform: This is just structural slavery still. Disproportionate amounts of black people are incarcerated, police are still heavily funded under Biden. He does not care about reforming the justice system, he even supports cops breaking up campus protests! Cool!

Military Support for Israel: Yup! Both sides suck! Biden has a very long history of sure hating Arabic countries though! He's done nothing but ship weapons and participate in the genocide of Palestinian people. Would Trump also do this? Yes. Does this mean this is an issue you should just drop and call a non-issue? No, what the hell are you talking about.

Israel/Hamas Ceasefire: Netanyahu has no plans to accept any actual ceasefire, yet Biden still provides weapons and support. Wow! That sure is weird? I wonder if Biden really cares about a ceasefire or how he just looks publicly.

Biden is not a good president, much less a good human being. You provided such a flimsy chart with zero resources or support behind you, and it just feels like people are just making shit up at this point. Get your heads out of the liberal cesspool you grew up in.

[abiiors]

a midsummer night's dream - matty x reader ˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🔆:✧˚.🍉⋆𖧧🐚

a/n: i will be so honest, there is no plot. the plot is matty and bug being in love for 4.5k words. also alex turner cameo hehehe cw: i'm warning all of you that there's a lot of fade to black smut in this because writing smut is my mortal enemy wc: 4.5k

matty wakes up to a scream on one fine day mid june. 

he scrambles awake, drenched in sweat because it’s already so warm in london, and because the scream is startling. he’s about to run to make sure she’s okay when he hears another one—a squeal this time. a high-pitched, excited sound. 

“bug?” he calls out, his voice scratchy still, “what’s happening?”

footsteps thud on the floor. a moment later the door swings open and she comes into view, laptop balanced precariously in one hand and her eyes as round as saucers. matty sits up on the bed. the covers fall around his waist, exposing his entire torso right down to his happy trail. 

“what—”

“i got it!” she hoists the laptop high up in the air. “that summer gig with arctic monkeys! i got it! i got it, matty, me!” 

matty’s sure his eyes widen an equal amount then, and he jumps off the bed. there he is, standing naked as the day he was born in the middle of their room. the kisses on his chest from the night before have already darkened, leaving a neat little trail from his sternum to just below his belly button. and yet, matty cares about none of it. 

“you got it! fuck, bug—”

“i got it!” she squeals, eyes brimming with tears now that it’s sinking in, and almost chucks the laptop on the bed. none of them care that he’s naked and she’s not. she makes a run at him, jumping into his open arms and wrapping her bare legs around his middle. she even presses a kiss square on his lips, too excited to deepen it. he just twirls them around until they both end up in a heap on the bed. 

“shit!”

“shit!” he laughs. “you’d be in europe all summer, one country after the other. surrounded by hot rockstars—”

“matty!” she chastises even though he can tell she’s busy trying to stifle her shit-eating grin. “i’m going to work. take photos!”

“of hot rockstars,” he bumps his shoulder into hers.

she turns and eyes him properly, from his messy curls to his naked chest and down. he doesn’t shy away from her though, if anything he feels a little smug. 

“i already take photos of hot rockstars,” she giggles, tracing a finger over the tattoo in the centre of his chest. “sexy photos too.”

“oh is that right?” he takes a hold of her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. her day old perfume surrounds him. his too, he realises, is in the mix, clinging to her skin like it’s meant to. “you won’t be here all summer…” he kisses her shoulder and pulls her leg over his waist. 

“i’ll send you postcards,” she giggles, “like we’re in the 90s or something.”

“sexy…postcards?”

she pinches the skin on his stomach lightly making him hiss. “pervert.”

“you’re a photographer, bug,” matty’s mouth moves from her shoulder to her chest, right where the fabric of her cami ends, not exactly where he wants to be. “i’m sure, you can get…creative.”

she quirks an eyebrow. “and what will i get in return, hmm? i’ll be ‘surrounded by hot rockstars’, don’t you forget.”

“oh, all of this isn’t enough?” matty points at his naked body, earning a flirty giggle from her. 

he already feels hot all over again, simmering right beneath his skin, and from the looks of it, she feels it too. gently, she pushes him on his back, climbing on top of him until she’d on his stomach, her ass touching his dick. matty pulls the strings of her shorts and helps her out of them, out of her underwear too. 

“gorgeous,” he murmurs once she chucks her cami somewhere in the corner, entirely naked and on top of him, grinding on his stomach until she’s practically dripping onto him. matty loves it when she uses him like that, when she gets lost chasing her own pleasure and forgets the world around her. 

matty loves looking at her then—now—when her lips are parted and eyes rolled to the back of her head, when her jaw is slack with pleasure and she moves her hips in a hypnotising rhythm. getting herself off on his stomach.

his hand snakes up her naked thigh till he's grabbing her ass. praise after praise tumbles out of his mouth and each one has her moving faster, rocking hips. his head spins from the blood running so fast through his veins. it's electric, to see her like that, to feel her like that. he’s dying to feel her around him too, but right now matty is just content to lie back and watch. 

when she finally finds her release and slumps forward on his chest, breathing hard, matty presses a kiss on her crown. 

“had your fun, didn’t you?”

she hmms, giggling a little. “your turn?”

and of course, he doesn’t need to be asked twice.

the week before she’s set to leave, she makes him sit in front of the dresser, bleach and blue dye held up in her gloved hands. matty’s doing it because she won’t. because she wants to ‘look professional’. and so he agrees to dyeing his hair blue. 

she’s more than happy to do it too, pressing kisses on his bare shoulder and neck every two seconds. matty dips a finger in the dye and flicks her nose, painting it blue. 

“oh i will kill you,” she screeches, giggling away from him when he tries to get more dye on her, on her clothes and skin, and tries to kiss her while he reeks of bleach. 

and even though they're happy, somewhere in the back of his mind he already misses her, even when she’s right here in his arms. 

“i love you…” he murmurs and places a soft kiss on her lips, she indulges for a few seconds before frowning. 

“why did you say it like that?”

“like what?”

“like it’s a sad thing.”

she can be quite perceptive when she wants to be. but matty simply shakes his head and hooks a hand under her knees. she laughs so loud when he throws her over his shoulder that it echoes around the house. matty hopes the house traps it, her laughs and her giggles and moans, he’s going to miss hearing it. 

“matty?” she nips his earlobe. 

“hmm?” 

“i love you too. more than you’ll ever know.” 

he doesn’t bother correcting her, or telling her that he knows. he knows because he feels it in all of her touches and her kisses and her smiles. and he knows because no matter how upset he is about spending two months apart, he knows she’s coming home to him at the end of it.

he only sets her down once they get to the bathroom, kissing her so deeply that her whole body reacts to him. the dye on her nose smears against his cheek, the dye on his hair gets on her hands, but matty cannot stop smiling like a fucking idiot. smiling and touching her and kissing her while they shed their clothes and get under the shower. 

the water turns blue instantly, rivulets running under their feet, and matty gets down on his knees. 

“let me…” he breathes, throwing her leg over his shoulder. his mouth is instantly between her legs, hands grabbing onto her thighs and her ass, while he looks up at her. her head is thrown back in ecstasy, fingers tangled in his freshly dyed hair. 

he keeps going until she cums on his tongue and cums again. he keeps going until his knees hurt and the water runs clear. he keeps going until she can quite literally no longer stand. 

then matty picks her up in his arms, and carries her to bed.

“i’ll be in brussels this time tomorrow,” she murmurs next to him the night before she’s set to leave.

it’s so late at night, she should be asleep. he should be asleep too, but he suspects they’re both up thinking the same thing. trying not to toss and turn and wake the other up… matty laughs at the irony. 

“go to bed, bug,” he whispers. “you’ve got to be up by 7.”

she turns to him, barely visible in the moonlight. and yet matty doesn’t need to see her face to know what she’s thinking and how she’s feeling. he simply needs to listen to her breathing as it turns shallow. 

“i do,” she nods and moves closer to him. matty opens up his arms and lets her find a comfy spot until she’s practically on top of him, until they’re one tangled entity. “i’ll be in brussels and you’ll be here.”

“we’ve been apart before,” he replies lamely. 

“that was different! we were just friends then, and…”

“and?”

she shrugs, pressing a kiss onto his shoulder. “and i’d learned to suppress my feelings for you. it was fine then, i was fine!”

matty presses a kiss into her head. “i wasn’t. i missed you everyday.”

“liar!”

“i’d never lie to you, bug,” he giggles. “and i know it’s different now, but we have options. i can call you everyday, text you 24/7, fuck, i could show up to any country you’re in. it’s only europe, you’re right here!”

she laughs, and matty can hear the wobble in it. a second later, wetness touches his shoulder. “i don’t think the band does ‘bring your boyfriend to work’ days.”

“alex would love to have me around,” he teases. 

that makes her snort properly. “you’re such a fanboy, it’s adorable.”

“rude!” he flicks her forehead. “go to bed now, i don’t want you feeling like a zombie tomorrow.”

she doesn’t respond after that, she just snuggles more into him, drawing circles on his arm until eventually her breathing deepens and her fingers stop moving. matty doesn’t sleep a wink though. he stays awake playing with her hair, fingers trying to memorise its softness, the precise texture of it. it’s only when the sky is on the verge of twilight does he manage to fall asleep. 

it’s a quick, dreamless sleep, over like a flash in the pan, and before he knows it, her alarm goes off and matty groans awake.

she’s waking up too, eyes still closed and face so sleepy and soft that matty wants to tuck her back in bed and not let her go. but no matter how hard he wishes for it, she has to go. it’s a good opportunity for her, it will be so good for her career. 

and yet and yet and yet. 

matty sighs and places a kiss on her head. 

“bug? you up?”

she mumbles sleepily. matty laughs. 

“come on, you won’t be ready in time if you don’t wake up now.”

and that’s how they go back and forth—matty tries to coax her out of bed, she mumbles something and buries her face wherever she can, until finally he manages to shake her hard enough. 

it’s funny to him how she stomps to the bathroom and comes out as a completely new person once she’s had her shower. he’s ready for her though, two steaming mugs of coffee in hand. it’s the last time they will sit across from each other and have coffee for two months. last time before he’s sentenced to seeing her face on a tiny phone screen. 

“you’re not gonna cry are you?” her eyes widen, and matty schools his face back into a smile. “if you cry, i’ll cry and then none of us is going anywhere.”

“i’m not a crybaby, love,” he flicks her nose, kissing it straight after. “i’ll miss you though. more than you’ll ever know.”

there’s not much he can say that won’t make him actually start crying. so he just enjoys the coffee with her and holds her close. he stays there, for as long as she needs until she has to finally get up and get ready to leave.

“matty, look!” she holds up a snail to the phone screen, eyes bright, excited. “i’m having snails.” then she puts on an exaggerated french accent. “escargot!”

matty laughs. “you don’t even like them, bug.”

“i do when they’re given to me in bed by room service.”

he briefly looks away from her face and behind her. there’s not much of a view, just the fancy headboard and a nightstand littered with jewellery and contact lens case and her frayed old headphones. matty smiles at it fondly and looks at the nightstand on her side of their bed—it’s empty, clean. he feels a pang in his chest. 

matty looks back at her just in time to watch her make a face.

“okay maybe i’ll have them later,” she tries not cringe, he just snickers at her. 

a bit later once she’s done eating, she gives him a tour of the room. it’s much of the same really, similar to the rooms she’d stayed in in rome and milan and berlin. he’s no stranger to any of it either, and yet he gives her his full attention, cooing at the view from her window even though they can barely see the eiffel tower. she looks happy about it, and so he is too. 

“how was you day?” she asks once they’ve both settled in bed. 

matty sighs, “much of the same really. worked a bit, then worked out a bit and now i’m talking to you.”

he doesn’t say that he could barely eat because he hates eating alone and misses her so bad. he doesn’t tell her that he forced george to be on call with him while he ate his sad little dinner of day old pizza and some chicken tenders. 

“worked out,” she waggles her eyebrows, “gonna be fit before i come back to you?”

“for you? maybe.”

her breath quivers a little and matty sees the precise second her face shifts from a teasing smirk to something a little more intense. he sits up too, propped against his pillow. and sure it is july, the nights have already grown hotter, but something tells him the heat in the room is not because of that. 

“did i show you photos from the show?” 

“of alex?” matty raises a brow and she rolls her eyes, biting her lip a little. 

“of me, idiot! was dressed like a proper 2013 arctic monkeys fan.”

he can see the image so clearly—her in a black mini-skirt and knee socks—and when she sends him a few photos his guess is confirmed. except there’s also her tight-fitting t-shirt that shows off everything matty wishes he could touch right now. he lets out a shaky breath, swiping through the photos. 

“you like them?” her voice is shier than before, matty smirks.

“you look like a fantasy,” he breathes down the line, already half hard in his pyjama shorts. her breathy, seductive giggle doesn’t help matters. matty can’t help but palm himself lightly at the sound, imagining doing things to her in that tiny little skirt. 

“what are you thinking?,” she speaks into the phone, mischief dancing in her tone.

“what do you want me to think?”

she twirls a little strand of hair around her finger, one long fingernail combing through her soft hair. he’s been dying to touch them again, dying to feel her fingernails scratch on his back while she moans and screams his name over and over again. 

she touches her lips subconsciously, and that’s pretty much the last straw for him. 

“what were you doing?” he asks. and then, pulls down his shorts. 

he’s painfully hard by now, aching and desperate to feel her around him. but she’s a million kilometres away, alone and cold in a foreign bed and not in his arms like she should. so he has no other option but to touch himself like a sixteen year old boy. the thought of her doing just the same drives him insane. 

“nothing. just wondering what you’d do if you would have seen me in that outfit.”

he hears her breath quiver over the last words.

“you want to know?” matty wraps a hand around the base of his cock, letting her uneven breathing wash over him. this is so horny and reckless. he can’t even go a few weeks without her for fuck’s sake…

but he can’t help himself, not when it comes to her. 

“touch yourself like i would,” he says, “and then i’ll tell you everything i want to do to you…”

the phone sex doesn’t stop after that. if anything it opens up so many new avenues for him. almost every night a week, while he’s in the same old bed and she’s in a different bed each time, matty finds himself spilling in his own hand, wishing it was her hand, her face, her stomach. wishing it was her. 

sex aside he misses her so dearly it’s like a hole has been carved in his chest precisely big enough to fit her. 

“alex was so good today!” she squeals down the phone one night while she’s in madrid. 

better than me? he almost says but keeps the words to himself. it’s jealousy rearing its ugly head, nothing more.

“oh yeah?”

she frowns at his disinterested tone. “you alright?”

“i’m just tired, bug.” matty runs a hand over his face, “i just want to sleep.”

“oh.”

her small voice instantly makes him open his eyes. she’s smiling at him, of course she is, but he can tell when her smiles are fake and when they are real. and the one right now is stretched so forcefully over her face that he wonders if it hurts.

“no, no,” he shakes his head, “i can stay up for a bit, it’s no big deal.”

“are you sure?”

he hates that he’s made her feel so unsure. of course he wants to stay awake and talk to her, all night if it weren’t for the fact she has busy days and long hours to work. 

the sun hasn’t even properly set yet and she’s already in bed, looking quite tired if he’s being honest. she looks different than he’d last seen her too, suntanned and freckled—probably after spending fun afternoons at the beach with all these attractive people all around her—

stop it.

“we should go to the beach when you come back.” matty changes the topic abruptly. “just us, a proper beach day. it will be fun i think.”

“yeah?”

she settles deeper under her covers, resting her phone against a pillow so she won’t have to hold it upright. matty does the same, sleeping on his side. if he fools himself enough, it’s like they’re sleeping side by side again. if he fools himself, she’s back in his arms, snuggled up with him no matter how hot it is. 

“you look so sleepy, bug,” he laughs, touching his phone screen like he’s caressing her cheek. “oh wait, a snug bug.”

“poetry,” she snorts, stifling a yawn. “i’m fine matty, i wanna talk to you. tomorrow’s a busy day, dunno if i can even text you all day.”

his mood sours instantly, but he tries not to show it on his face. she is working. this is not some holiday where she can set time aside to call and text him. besides he’s seen some of her photos posted on the band’s social media—her hard work shines through instantly. and ever time he sees them, pride swells in his chest. 

“do you want to hear something george and i came up with the other day?”

she nods, pulling the covers up to her chin. 

matty doesn't waste more time explaining what it is, he just starts humming. it’s at the very beginning stages of its creation—a song inspired by this summer—and yet, the more he hums, the more the melody just comes to him. the lyrics are gibberish, mostly just a lot of oohs and hmms but it’s accomplishing the goal he’s set out with. 

her eyes droop more and more with each passing second, breathing deepening more, until he’s almost at the end of the song and she’s fast asleep.

her mouth is parted like always, hands tucked under her chin and knees pulled up to her chest like she’s preserving warmth even on a summer night. he wonders if she feels cold in hotel rooms, he wonders if she misses him just as much as he misses her, so strong it keeps him up at night sometimes, touching her side of the bed and her pillow. 

he doesn’t hang up though. he stays on call, watching her sleep. he stays on call until she’s completely unmoving and unaware of anything else happening around her. he stays on call until her phone dies eventually and his screen goes black. then he cradles the device to his chest like it’s trapped her essence. and maybe it has. 

when matty falls into a restless sleep that night, he only dreams of her.

the dreams become a permanent fixture. not like he’s complaining, not when he’s sleeping anyway. but then he has to wake up to the bleak reality that she’s not here, day after day, week after week.

they talk on the phone every single day of course, and with each passing day he knows her homecoming gets closer. somehow it’s harder. 

days before she’s supposed to come, matty’s in a mood so foul that he doesn’t even call her. he just makes up some silly excuse and skips out on it. 

her :( text makes him feel worse, but all he does is get in bed at 8 pm when it’s still light outside, and bury himself under blankets no matter how hot it is. 

somewhere hours later, he falls into an uneasy sleep. 

“shh, go back to sleep,” matty feels the bed dip in the wee hours of the morning, her voice a hoarse whisper. it’s a dream, his sleep-addled brain tells him, it’s another dream fueled by loneliness and missing her and being so so cold every night. it’s—

“baby?”

“hmm?”

“you’re not cold, are you?” she slides in behind him, still fully clothed. her soft, worn jeans rub against his thigh, then she drapes a bare arm over him. “you’ve got goosebumps.”

“you’re a dream,” matty mumbles, sleep coating each word. her deep laugh resonates all around him, surrounding him like a warm blanket. 

“am i?” she kisses the shell of his ear. “how do you know?”

sleep threatens to take him under once again in the comfort of her arms. the feel of her hair brushing against is shoulder is familiar, it smells like her—like peaches and lilies. matty smiles to himself, this is by far the most realistic dream his brain has produced all summer. 

“hey,” she kisses his shoulder, sending butterflies fluttering in his stomach. 

“you’re a dream…” matty repeats, “because i’ve had this dream before.”

“oh yeah?” he feels himself being pulled into a chest—so solid and real and warm. her fingers dance on his arms, from his shoulder to his elbow and back up, tickling just a little—not enough to fully wake him up, but definitely enough to hold him there, suspended in a limbo between sleep and consciousness. “what happens in your dream?”

“you come into our bed…”

“like this?” the smile in her voice is prominent. 

“mm-hmm,” matty nods and turns, eyes closed, face burrowed into her chest now. her scent surrounds him stronger than before, with new things added to it—faint smell of coffee and the outdoors in general. he can feel his face squished between her boobs, which isn’t a new detail as far as his dreams go, but his brain has certainly upped the quality of it tonight. 

it’s a dream it’s a dream it’s a dream, matty chants in his head over and over again till the words meld into each other and turn gibberish. 

“and then?” her voice cuts through his spiral. 

“and then you hold me, bug”

“i am holding you…” he feel her nod, and yet her arms tighten, cuddling him closer. the next time she speak, matty feels the vibrations of her voice running through his chest, passing through his heart. 

“and then?”

instead of answering, he focuses on her fingers—up and down, up and down. from his shoulder to his elbow and back up. “sometimes you touch me,” he breathes into the crook of her neck, “other times you hold me until i wake up.” his voice is muffled, barely audible. it’s alright, though. she’s just a dream, a figment of his imagination, a part of him. how could she ever not understand him?

“i touch you?” she laughs, a little giggly, and matty nods. “how do i touch you?”

he takes her hand in his, traces the pads of her fingers, the lines on her palm. then he places her hands on his bare chest—smooth, small fingers touching his ribs, trailing downward toward his stomach and his belly button. matty sighs. “you touch me like that. like you do when you’re really here…”

“matty, i am really here!” she laughs, kissing his head this time. her thumb moves in circles on his collarbone. “open your eyes, ‘m right here.”

“‘s a trick,” he mumbles. a moment later his mouth finds the hollow of her throat. her skin is slightly cold to the touch, halfway to warming up. against his lips he feels the chain she always wears, like she’s come back home and gotten straight into bed. matty scoffs, what a strange thought. 

“you’ll disappear if i open my eyes. and i want you to stay. i miss you…” he says, “i can’t wait two more days till you’re home.”

“you don’t have to,” she giggles—it’s a giddy, breathless sound that makes him smile too. 

“you’re a good dream,” matty holds onto her tight, relishing how solid she feels in his arms. “the best dream i’ve ever had.”

her hands move over his body again until they’re on his face, cradling his cheek. then he feels her tilting his chin up, feels her lips on his—just one tiny, soft kiss. she smiles against his mouth, says something too but the words don’t fully register in his mind. 

“i’ll see you soon,” matty murmurs, properly sleepy now, unable to hold on for much longer. 

“you will,” her voice holds a promise. “go to sleep now, i can’t wait to see you in the morning.”

he chuckles at her words. just before sleep properly drags him under, he places his hand on her cheek, feels the familiar soft skin under his palm and hears her sigh. 

“and you’ll be here in the morning?” he teases, “will you be here as a daydream, bug?”

she threads her fingers through his hair, playing with them till it’s impossible to hold on to consciousness. just as he’s about to slip under, he hears her exhale. “i’ll be here as anything you want me to be,” she murmurs, kissing the crown of his head. 

matty succumbs to sleep.

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[herejusttosufferalong]

I've started and deleted this sentence several times now and don't really know how to begin. So let's just go for it and say seriously WHAT THE FUCK has been the last 6 months!? My mind is a clusterfuck rn. I love L and N but they are seriously debilitating. Like I've been see-sawing between casual nonchalance about everything saying "haha this is great ride, what's next in store?" to just confused exasperation and emotional fatigue. I don't even know these people, and yet I am so fucking invested. This has never happened to me. They are like a drug. Seriously, whatever they are selling, I will buy 10 of everything, pump it into my veins. Why is my kink now seeing them get married, have kids and L be a stay-at-home daddy while N rules the fucking world?! N, alone, has me questioning my sexuality. Then I remember L is there, and I go oh yeah him too. Them is my sexuality. It's so messy. Anyway, now to the point of this. I had some flashbacks while watching L's Loewe Vogue video today. Watching his groomer give him a lovely face and head massage instantly transported me to Ireland with the infamous forehead stroke. Honestly, imo, the biggest turning point of the whole tour. So much happened before this time, but I really do think this moment was critical. I will outline why.

Obviously, Ireland was a massive deal for N. The excitement of getting back home and meeting family and friends, the amazing reception, it was special. She talked ad nauseam about her mum meeting L and honestly all I could think was when has anyone been excited/nervous about their parents meeting just a friend? You feel that certain way because you're wanting approval, you're wanting them to feel the same way you do about that person and welcome them into the family, as it were. I've never felt that way with friends, but I had done with my boyfriend (now husband). But maybe that's just me? L didn't seem as caught up in it, like almost trying to downplay a lot of her ott excitement. I also noticed that they were less touchy feely overall compared to earlier on in the trip, which was so unhinged honestly, I didn't know what to do with myself. But then came the moment. I don't think enough people have broken this moment down. So the interviewer asks the question, that's been asked oh so many times, "was it easier or harder to do the intimacy scenes with a friend?" And N looks at L and thinks to herself, he has a hair out of place on his forehead, I'm going to reach out and stroke his forehead right in the middle of this god damn interview. Not once, but a few times, like her little hand was built to stroke that man's face. Now, tbf, she does ask permission but also tbf her hand is already at his face before he can answer a whispered, guttural, "mhmm". He leans in, we loose L for a bit there, then he comes back saying "ok" like you probably got that hair now, think we should stop now. And her going into 'mother' mode telling him to turn his head, good boy. And his little worried face when it's over. And them talking about how N just can't stop picking hairs off people on set. Mmm ok. If they were in Regency outfits, I would be expecting a mirror scene next up. But you might say to me, well shit like this has happened countless times, it's just another thing. Well, I say no, this time was different. They both knew they had crossed a line, publicly, her initiation, his reaction. Because they were strange as hell at the London premiere. He avoided her gaze. She visibly stopped herself from touching him. One occasion, I saw her reach out to his arm or back, and she looked behind him (I think where their teams were?), and immediately pulled her arm back. The first moment she was asked about people shipping Lukola she had a pre-prepared speech ready to go to explain the head stroke. It was forced. A lot of what she said seemed so rehearsed, and although, I'm certain N does think a lot about what she is going to say in interviews, usually she is very natural about it and let's it flow. That lady was stressed and making a point that L is just a 'bud'. The lady doth protest to much, methinks. She's seen everything we've typed about her and L's behaviour during the tour, so why start over-explaining and defending behaviour now? She was STRESSED. That was the overt, obvious, stop yourself type of behaviour, and yet we still saw SOME of that unconscious stuff seep through, like him searching for her hand, her looking up at him like a God, her stroking his thumb with hers while holding hands (seriously, why was that SO intimate to me?). Point being, you can't fake that stuff, the repression and release. The unconscious behaviour. They knew something was rumbling. Or at least, N did. My opinion is that they have not acted on those rumblings, because if they had, it would be OVER. Electric. Power surge. Goodnight. Pack your bags and goodbye. We might not even exist anymore, tbh. But I shall wait over here and keep eating all the crumbs I can get. (I am sooo sorry about the length of whatever this is, thank you much the same, it was so nice to vent).

OKay but like I kinda fuckin love you anon...

I had the biggest smile on my face reading this.

There is so much to unpack here. We will have to chat sometime.

LOVE x

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

The Eggplant (The Surprise, Part 18)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: nightmares, mentions of Emily's fake death, mentions of past sexual trauma (nothing graphic though), discussions of birth/delivery times (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 2.1k

Summary: You've always struggled with sleep and nightmares, but the third trimester is making it worse than ever. Thankfully, Emily is always there to calm you down and take your mind off the bad dreams.

Note: I know the gif is the man that we can't stand! But it was the most appropriate one! Just use your imagination! Replace him with reader!

Week 28: The Eggplant

You jerked awake, gasping and flailing, struggling to sit up against the weight of your baby bump. Sweat pooled in the dips of your collarbone and at the nape of your neck, dampening the soft strands of hair that rested there.

You blinked in the darkness, sucking in great gulps of air, feeling for Emily next to you. She was already up, already pressing her hand into yours and squeezing your palm, already drawing you into her chest, holding you protectively.

“Hey, hey,” she cooed, “it’s okay. You’re alright. It’s just a dream.”

Your heart raced, and you snaked your arms around Emily’s waist, burying yourself in her. You coughed, your breath still caught in your throat. She ran her thumb gently along the side of your face, wiping away the tears that lingered from the dream.

You’d always had more vivid dreams–and more often–than the average person. As a child, you’d even been diagnosed with a sleep disorder characterized by horrific nightmares. It had faded, but not gone away, as you grew up. After a lot of trial and error, you’d discovered that taking ashwagandha supplements before bed largely put a stop to the nightmares.

But you weren’t allowed to take ashwagandha while you were pregnant or breastfeeding. You’d been lucky until now–the nightmares had been few and far between, despite not being able to take your usual sleep aid. But when you hit the third trimester, they’d come back in full force. Almost every night, horrifically realistic, so terrifying that you were often scared to go back to sleep afterward for fear the dreams would resume. You’d tried melatonin, Benadryl, Tylenol PM, Unisom, and doxylamine. Tonight, you’d tried magnesium. The only thing it’d done was make you have to get up and take a shit in the middle of the night.

Your heart rate was slowing, but your body still shook. You grasped onto Emily’s t-shirt desperately, as if it was the only thing tethering you to the world. Sometimes the dreams involved your family. But most often these days they were about Emily.

“I guess that’s a no on the magnesium, huh?” Emilly whispered, her breath warm at the top of your head. “You want to talk about it?”

You let out a shaky breath, holding her just a bit tighter. “You died again,” you said, your voice so soft she almost couldn’t hear you. You were afraid to speak it into existence.

You could see Emily’s face without seeing it. Always wracked with guilt, always heartbroken. She always told you that going into WITSEC after Doyle, letting you and her team believe she was dead for nearly a year, was the worst thing she’d ever done. There had been no way around it; you knew it and she knew it. You didn’t like to bring it up, didn’t like to make her feel bad. She’d done what she had to do to protect herself, and as much as her fake death had devastated you–destroyed you, even–you couldn’t bring yourself to hold it against her.

“It was Doyle,” you whispered into her neck. “He made me watch.” You shuddered, and Emily grasped your face in both of her hands, turning you gently so she could look you in the eyes. She brushed a strand of hair out of your face and sighed.

“He’s dead, honey,” Emily said firmly. “I will never do that to you again.”

A tear ran down the side of your face, part of your brain still stuck in the dream, still watching Doyle hurt Emily again and again. Emily wiped it away, replacing it with a kiss.

“It’s okay, baby,” she reassured you, her heart aching to see you so scared. “I’m okay. I’m safe.”

“I’m sorry, Em,” you choked out, more tears coming now. It was three in the morning. You were on your second week of waking up terrified every night. Emily always got up with you. She had to be tired. You were exhausted. “You should go back to sleep.”

“Nope,” she protested lightly, drawing you down to the bed with her, pressing your face to her chest. “No crying, come on. It’s okay. You’re up, I’m up. Shh, just let me hold you, alright?”

You leaned into her touch, relishing the way her fingernails felt against your scalp, the weight of her arms around you, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, the up and down of her breath.

“What’ll help?” she asked. “You want to get your mind off it? Think about something else?”

You nodded, sniffling.

“Alright,” she yawned, stretching a bit to reach inside the drawer of her nightstand. She pulled out her tablet, the light from the screen making you blink.

“What are you doing?” you asked, blinking.

“We might as well get something done, if we’re up,” she said, cradling your head in the crook of her elbow, so that she could manage the tablet and keep you close at the same time.

She opened a Google doc that she’d titled Birth Plan.

“Birth plan?�� There was a series of questions and fill-in-the-blanks on there, as if Emily had copy-pasted it from another website. “I thought the plan was to have the baby. That’s the birth plan.”

She pinched at your stomach, and you giggled, squirming. “No, you dork. There’s more to it than that. And I’d rather us make the decisions now, so when you’re in labor, freaking out, we don’t miss anything.”

“I think you mean when you’re freaking out during labor.”

You watched her roll her eyes and smiled. You loved teasing Emily.

“Okay, well, regardless of who's freaking out, we need a plan. So just… lay your pretty head down and answer my questions, okay?”

You kissed the inside of her arm and nestled yourself comfortably against her. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Alright, let’s see…” Emily said, brows furrowed, biting at the corner of her lip. Her thinking face. She meant business. “Full name and pronouns, I already know that. Partner’s name and pronouns… Due date, provider… I can fill all this out without you.”

“So then, the birth plan really is just have the baby?”

“No!” Emily insisted, scrolling. “Here. Here’s some you can answer. Have you ever… had group B strep?”

“No.”

“Been previously diagnosed with genital herpes?”

Your face went beet red. “Jesus, Em! No!”

She smirked. “I know, I just wanted to see you blush. Uh… do you have Rh incompatibility with the baby?”

“I don’t think so? I feel like Dr. Delgado would have mentioned it by now.”

“I’m putting no. Gestational diabetes?”

“No.”

“Fear of needles?”

“No, not really.”

“Have experienced–” Emily stopped suddenly, her voice stuck in her throat.

“Experienced what?” you prompted. When she didn’t answer, you poked her leg with your foot. “Emily, experienced what?”

“It’s okay,” she mumbled. “I can answer that one for you.”

“Well, now I want to know…”

“It’s fine, Y/N. Let’s just move on.”

“No, Em, I want to know!”

She sighed and bit at one of her nails. You furrowed your eyebrows and took her hand.

“Have you ever experienced birth trauma or prior sexual assault,” Emily read, her voice soft.

“Oh.”

You were both quiet for a moment, your thumb running over Emily’s knuckles. “Well, I guess you did know the answer for that one…” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “Let’s keep going.”

Emily shook her head a bit, as if clearing clouds. “Uh… delivery plan… I’m assuming vaginal?”

You nodded. “What are the other options?”

“C-section or water birth.”

You shivered. “Yeah, definitely vaginal. I think I’d cry if I had to give birth in a kiddie pool.”

Emily cracked a smile, and you were glad to see her getting back to herself. “Who do you want in the room with you?”

“You.”

“Well, yeah. Anyone else, though? Your mom?”

“Just you,” you confirmed, kissing her hand.

“Whatever you want,” Emily confirmed, continuing down the list. “Do you want any music played?”

“Screamo.”

Emily laughed. “Can you imagine?”

“Alright, I’ll settle for punk.”

“I’m putting TBD,” Emily decided. “Okay, this next part is a big, long checklist, so just say yes or no, I guess.”

“Okay,” you agreed. Your heart rate was almost back to normal, your breathing calm and even as you snuggled into Emily. You were starting to feel sleepy again, and were trying not to fight it, not to let yourself get scared again.

“Lights dimmed?” Emily asked, making her way down the list.

“Uh… I guess so?”

“Room as quiet as possible?”

“Minus the punk music, yes.”

Emily fought off a smile, running a hand absentmindedly through your hair. “As few interruptions as possible?”

“...Yes?”

“As few vaginal and cervical exams as possible? Yes.” Emily’s voice grew quiet again as she read this one, and you squeezed her hand to let her know you were okay. “Hospital staff limited to my doctors and nurses only? I’m putting yes for this one, too. I don’t want any fucking students in there watching.”

You yawned, closing your eyes as you pressed your cheek against Emily’s chest. You were having a harder and harder time staying awake.

“Do you want to wear your own clothes?”

“Yes,” you mumbled.

“Your glasses?”

You looked up at her, confused. “As opposed to what? Loaner glasses?”

Emily shrugged. “No glasses, I guess?”

“No. I can’t see shit without my glasses. The baby would just be a blob.”

“So yes to your glasses… Do you want me to take pictures?”

“Of me giving birth?!” you exclaimed. “No!”

“But you’ll look so beautiful!” Emily argued.

“I’ll look like a hot plate of shit,” you shot back. “In fact, I might actually shit myself during labor. I don’t want any photographic evidence of that, thank you.”

“Fine,” Emily grumbled. “Putting no. Would you like to stay hydrated with clear liquids and ice chips?”

“What kind of question is that?” you asked, fighting off another big yawn. “Of course I want to be hydrated.”

“Do you want to eat?”

“I don’t know. Depends on how long it takes, I guess.”

“There’s no box for maybe,” Emily observed.

“Make a box, then, Emily. Jesus. You work for the FBI.”

“Mean…” she mumbled.

“Sorry. I love you.” At this point, you were half-asleep, Emily’s voice far away, as if you were underwater.

“Do you want me to catch the baby?”

“Catch the baby? What are they tossing it?”

“No, like… as he’s born.”

“As she falls out of my vagina?!”

“...Yeah.”

“Not really. I want you up with me so I can squeeze your hand and yell at you.”

Emily was quiet, and you grabbed for her hand, blinking your eyes open.

“Unless it’s important to you,” you told her. “If that’s something you want to do, then by all means.”

“No…” Emily thought out loud. “But I think I’d like to cut the umbilical cord, if that’s okay with you?”

You nodded, getting comfy again, sleep infringing on the edges of your consciousness.

“Do you want him placed on your chest right away?” When you didn’t answer, Emily prompted you again. “Y/N?”

She looked down to find you conked out, snoring softly, your arm wrapped around her stomach, legs entwined with hers. She smiled softly at you and kissed the top of your head, sneaking her hand under the fabric of your shirt to rub your back.

“I’m putting yes,” she whispered, typing quickly then turning off the tablet and setting it gently on the nightstand, careful not to shift too much and wake you.

Emily adjusted the covers so that you’d be nice and warm. She wasn’t a praying person, but she hoped against hope that you’d sleep through the rest of the night. You had huge circles under your eyes from so many nights of restless sleep. Emily was used to running on little sleep, but you weren’t. And you were growing a baby. You needed more sleep than usual, and you weren’t getting it.

She pressed her lips to your head again and again, making sure you were secure in her arms. She couldn’t go into your head and fight off the nightmares for you, but she could make sure that if and when you woke up, you felt safe right away. She could make sure she was there, make sure that the moment you gasped awake, you felt Emily next to you–real and alive and warm and very, very here.

[zweiginator]

is somebody gonna match my freak (write a fic abt college patrick rimming me) lol

holy shit. just paused my show as I read this.

like he has been corrupting you all semester. met you in a gen-ed lecture he couldn’t care less about. there you were, so pretty and focused. he could tell you had never done anything more than a vanilla make out session, maybe half-assed missionary.

he was slow with you. remembered all the smart things you said in class and told you how much he liked what you have to say.

when it got darker earlier in the fall and winter months, he offered to drive you home, and he always waited for you to get inside before he drove off.

always held the door open for you and held your bag when he picked you up for class.

but he had yet to kiss you. until you started crying one night after a party he took you to, sobbing, asking him why he wasn’t attracted to you, why he refused to kiss you.

he shut you up by ramming his tongue into your mouth.

“ever thought maybe you’re worth waiting for?”

you were fucking addicting to him. you were the first thing he thought about when he woke up, the thought in his head that never failed to make his cock twitch, ropes of cum spurting across his stomach before he fell asleep at night.

he taught you everything—his was the first cock in your mouth, the first to fuck you from behind. he taught you how to ride him properly, how to talk dirty. his mouth was the first to lick your cunt, spreading it open to spit on it and lap his tongue around your clit until your fingers pulled his hair so hard Patrick’s scalp hurt the next day.

today, you had worn a cute little pleated skirt. short enough to allow his mind to wander, long enough to leave a lot to the imagination. not that patrick hadn’t seen every inch of you. but he wanted to lick every fucking inch of you.

he had you naked on his bed. he was still fully clothed after tennis practice.

“put your ass up baby, like how I taught you.”

you always listen to him. so you do it.

your pussy is spread so prettily for him. it’s slick and wet and open. But he’s focused on your pretty little asshole. he’s been thinking about it for months. how he wants to fuck you there. but he has to train you. teach you.

his thumb rubs up and down your slit, the sound of your wetness is crude. he grabs onto your hips and latches his mouth onto your pussy, sucking your clit into his mouth. your back arches. you feel his tongue and mouth move back, to the sensitive hole you had always been scared to experiment with.

“Patrick what are you—“

he moans. “trust me, it’ll feel so good sweetheart.”

you do trust him. more than any man in the world. so you let him.

his tongue licks around your hole, his fingers pushing into your cunt, occasionally rubbing your swollen little clit. it’s crass how much he’s enjoying this—but fuck, you love it too. he pushes your body into his mouth so you’re impossibly close to him, and you hear the slick wetness of his hand pumping his cock while he eats you. licks you open. prods his tongue inside you. spanks your ass and tells you to let go for him. just be a good girl and let go.

your roommate is set to be home soon; the door isn’t even locked. what would they think of you? first you get a boyfriend who is known around campus, and now you’re his little slut, spread out for him to devour you. it makes you cum on his fingers, his tongue. makes you scream his name out. patrick paints your sheets with his own cum as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your ass.

you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to him.

[pupmkincake2000]

So, I played Baldur's Gate 3 four times (as Gale rpmancing Astarion, as Astarion romancing Gale, as Durge romancing Halsin, as Durge romancing Gale) and here are the conclusions I came to:

Gale is soooo main character/leader coded. I enjoyed playing as Durge, but playing as Gale and watching him through all 4 playthroughs I realized he is better for this role than anyone else. He's smart, intelligent, kind, he has seen some shit in his life, and won't die on the first day after the nautiloid's crash. Yes, physically he may be weaker than many other characters, but with the amount of knowledge and magic power he is capable of a lot things, and he is also sweet and helps those in need (I consider canon the route when the hero does a lot of good things, including saving the Grove, saving prisoners in Moonrise Towers, etc. ) and is ready to give up god powers for the one he loves. He would be a great leader. You may disagree, but I think hes perfect as a main character.

Despite my dislike of Astarion as a character (and my sudden love for Durge x Gale ship), I think Gale's romance with him is the best and most... uncliched? And I just love it so much! It is precisely because they are two halves of the same coin, they have a lot in common and are able to make each other better. Considering that Astarion's best ending is the one in which he, remaining a vampire spawn, becomes either a traveler or happily married to Gale. Just imagine: Astarion will finally have a loving family, a home, a loving husband (and I’m not even surprised that Gale is the only one who proposes marriage to his lover), he will have a happy, well-fed life, he can choose a profession he enjoys or he can travel with Gale when Gale, as a professor, gets his vacation. After all, every Academy has summer holidays, and Gale himself says that sometimes he misses adventure. And I wouldn't mind reading a story about them travelling the world together again.

Ascended Astarion is the worst version of Astarion, no matter what anyone says (I decided to ascend him in my last playthough and oh gods he's so disgusting!). He doesn't love his consort, I will never believe he does, not to mention his consort is nothing but a pet to him. He is also even more narcissistic and manipulative and is just another Cazador, just a bit worse. This is exactly the impression I got. Plus, he is an evil that needs to be eradicated.

I really enjoyed playing as Durge. Moreover, I really like his redemption. This is that very case when redemption actually works and the character can actually start their life anew. But to be honest, I missed Gale's reaction to Durge's revival after Bhaal drained him of all his blood and after Jergal brought him back to life. But probably any romantic character has no reaction to this.

Wild Magic. The best magic ever.

Karlach and Wyll are made for each other. In my first two playthroughs, Karlach either died or became an illithid, but then I managed to send her with Wyll to Averno. The way he asks her to go with him so that she won’t be lonely, the way he later talks at a party about their joint adventures, the way Karlach says that if it weren’t for Wyll, she would never have returned there... all these moments are the best. It's even more than enemies to lovers, it's a full-fledged healthy relationship built on friendship, trust, support… it's amazing. Just think about it: Wyll did this for her sake, he literally agreed to go with her to hell, where the conditions of survival for a human being are very difficult, just so that she would not be lonely and so that she would not die. I want to believe that they will still be able to repair Karlach’s heart and return to Faerun together.

[icyg4l]

PAC: What Do Other Queer People Think About You?

Hello beautiful people! Today I will be posting two Pick-A-Piles, so stay tuned for that later. I am continuing on with my Pride Month series as the last days of this beautiful month wrap up. Also, it is my last week here for a while. I will be on break, so if you would like to book a reading with me, please do not hesitate to message me privately! Without further ado, please select the pile that resonates with you.

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-3)

Pile One: You have a STRONG presence, Pile One. I feel like people view you as a community leader that does not fuck around. You organize, you protest, you donate, you advocate. But you also have this side to you that’s fun-loving and ready to party. There’s two sides to you basically. I feel like a lot of people see you as the voice of reason or an omniscient type of person. You definitely are well-respected in your community. People love your voice and the way that you convey your messages. You often speak about issues that plague the underdogs of society; not just the LGBTQ+ community, but poor people, Black people, children, etc. You get a lot of recognition for your hands as well? It seems that you do a bit of traveling as well, so you share your gifts with the world. You’re also a hard and dedicated worker. You do shit for the cause. You don’t do it for the clout. You have a good heart. I feel like people who were romantically/sexually involved with you at one point have good things to say about your skills, lol. You set the standard, no matter what the occasion is. You’re just that girl. Overall, you are perceived well. So the next time someone asks if you think you’re Beyonce, you can say, “Well yes!”

Cards Used: Three of Wands, King of Cups, Judgment, Seven of Pentacles, The Hierophant. The Sun, Queen of Wands, The Lovers. 

Pile Two: You have a very similar energy as Pile One. I feel like you’re less polished though. You are rough around the edges. You’ve been through a lot, and you are upfront about that. People could say that you favor Kehlani or maybe you listen to her a lot. Your experiences have shaped your values and morals. People respect you for that. You’re big on family. You could want a family of your own someday, spend a lot of time with your chosen family or spend a lot of time with your biological family. Outsiders want to be a part of your close circle because you are so lovable. They want to be your lover, your friend, your sister, brother, etc. People tend to flirt with you, but they don’t expect anything from you. The amount of depth that bleeds from your heart shocks people (but in a good way). It is easy for you to be romantically involved with people but it is hard for you to keep a lover. But, there is someone out there that actually wants you for you. You have this je ne sais quoi about you. You are hard-headed and charismatic. But you also have this chaotic side to you. I feel like people bring up your behavior in your youth a lot, but you have changed. Don’t let anyone weaponize your past against you. You’re extremely loyal — almost too loyal at times. You’re an artistic lover with a lot of dreams to accomplish. But buckle down, or else you’re not going to get them done. 

Cards Used: Ten of Cups, The Fool, Four of Wands, Knight of Cups, Queen of Wands, King of Swords, The Chariot. 

Pile Three: You’re like a silent rebel. You go against the grain, but you do it in a way that’s not super loud. People could copy you and you won’t even say “Yeah, I did that”. You’d just go on about your business. I don’t think you aim to do this though. You’re someone that just does things to do it. I feel like you’re a bookworm. You could be into the grunge aesthetic, goth aesthetic, etc. Some type of alternative style is significant. This is authentic to you. People are intimidated by your looks, but when they get to know you, your kind heart does not go unnoticed. You’re a free spirit. People feel like you do magic because you always seem to get what you want even though you “don’t do anything”. I heard “The universe is on your side”. People are for sure rooting for you, Pile Three. They appreciate your unapologetic expression. You’re very lowkey, but you’re a favorite. People admire you from afar. They would admire you upclose if you let them in though, lol! 

Cards Used: Death, The High Priestess, King of Cups, The Chariot, Ace of Wands, The Hanged Man, Three of Pentacles. 

[positivexcellence]

Jared Padalecki Says Goodbye to ‘Walker’ and Blasts the CW’s ‘Cheap Content’ Strategy After Show’s Cancellation: ‘F— It. They Can’t Fire Me Again’

The writers first introduced this Jackal storyline at the end of the third season as a way to excavate more demons from Cordell and Captain James’ (Coby Bell) shared past. What did this storyline help you unlock in terms of your understanding of Cordell? What were you most interested in exploring from a character perspective?

I’ve been fortunate enough for many years, many decades, to play characters that are in situations where the story is not about the situation necessarily: It’s about what’s going on with the character. On “Supernatural,” we fought God, we fought Lucifer, I was Lucifer at one point, we fought demons — but it was really about the brothers. It was about a bond; it was about the tropes of sacrifice, loyalty, determination, discipline and so many more things.

So when the Jackal storyline first occurred to the gang, [a serial killer storyline] was something that we hadn’t approached yet on “Walker.” And it’s something that the real Texas Rangers actually get involved with: They do hunt down and investigate serial killer allegations. So it was a fun template with which to play out past traumas, [as well as this idea of] trusting those close to you and them trusting you back and getting out of your head.

I don’t want to say I suffer [from this], but I’m in my head a lot. Partially that’s my nature, just the way I was born; and partially that’s my nurture, being an actor. You have your script, you read it, and you’re like, “OK, now what can I add? What does this mean?” So I just spend a lot of time in my head, and oftentimes it takes somebody beloved that’s part of my circle to go, “Hey, you all right?” And I’ll be like, “Oh shit. Yeah, sorry, I’ve been kind of elsewhere.” So [I enjoyed] playing that role this season, and understanding how the rabbit hole of emotions in your mind can sometimes affect more than just you.

This iteration of “Walker” has always been about Cordell’s neverending internal struggle to find the right work-life balance. For me, he seems to finally recognize that he’s done plenty of great work as a Ranger, but he has yet to really fulfill his duties as a father, even though he is about to become an empty nester. What is your take on where we leave him in the finale?

Yeah, it’s exactly that — and kudos to Anna and the rest of the writing gang. It was a lot of what I was going through [in real life]. It’s a lot of what I’m going through now, having worked since I was 17 years old when I started “Gilmore Girls.” There are a lot of things that you miss when you’re acting — a lot of graduations, camp drop-offs, kids’ games, whatever. It’s a wonderful job, and I’m so grateful to have been able to do it for so long, but there’s a lot that you give up.

So I think where we find Cordell in the finale is exactly in that spot where he’s no longer anxiety- or panic-driven about having to do the next job, having to get up and find somebody to arrest or find something to fix or investigate. He has realized — much to the credit of Jeff Pierre’s Trey, Ashley Reyes’ Cassie, and obviously Coby Bell’s Larry James — that, “Hey, the world goes on without you.” I think Cordell was in his own head for a lot of the episodes, and afraid that if he wasn’t around, things would fall apart. I think he found a place where he is like, “The world was here before me. The world will be here after me. And what I need to do for those around me is spend time with them.” So he’s come to a realization that there’s more than just the next job.

I think it took him — I don’t want to call it rock bottom, but getting out of control with his obsession with the Jackal to realize, “Oh, wait, maybe I need to step away from this for a little bit, and when I come back, I’ll come back stronger and more clear headed.” There will always be another job, but the family is growing up. August is graduating, Stella is in college, and he and Geri are working through some stuff. So I think he realized that, “Hey, I need to put my energies elsewhere.” It’s told in TV form, but it’s a really universal lesson. Sometimes, just doing something different, just changing your routine, can open your eyes to not only the positives of the routine — but also the drawbacks.

The writers have put Cordell through the wringer over the years, but this is the closest that he came to dying. The idea of mortality becomes even more intense when you become a parent — and, in Cordell’s case, a widowed single parent — because you have to think about what you’re leaving behind for your children.

Great point. [My wife] Genevieve [who played Cordell’s late wife, Emily] and I talk about that all the time, as parents. I think this is one of the lessons that both Gen and I hope to give to our kids, and for them to grasp as well. As kids grow up — and even adults — they will often deal with and question: “Is what I’m doing right? Should I be doing something else? If I’m not important here, then am I important at all?” I think part of the reason Cordell makes the decision that he does at the end of the finale is to show his kids: “Hey, I know I’ve been doing this, and it is very important. But so are you. It’s not a ‘no, but.’ It’s a ‘yes, and.’” It takes courage to leave routine, to leave habits, and I think he wants his kids to know, “Hey, it’s OK if y’all have to pivot, if y’all have to change. Do what you know is right, not what you think other people think is right.”

Unlike some other shows on the bubble, you and the writers elected not to shoot an alternate ending. That means you’ve left the audience with a couple big cliffhangers: In addition to taking a leave of absence, Cordell is also planning to propose to Geri; and James Van Der Beek was going to play the Walkers’ new (and potentially nefarious) neighbor. Did you and Anna discuss what next season would have looked like?

Yeah, there was so much to deal with, now that Violet and Kale are both young adults. They’re not children like they were four years ago, both literally and metaphorically. So there was a lot that we were going to explore with them — like, how much the sins of the father can carry down to the progeny, and how much Stella and/or August had, unfortunately, [inherited] their father’s bad qualities as well, which we dealt with this year with Stella. She’s very much like her father in the good ways and in the bad ways.

But we were very excited to have James on the show. He’s a personal friend, and he lives here in Austin. It wasn’t going to be like the Walker-Davidson feud necessarily [from Season 2], and the fifth season was certainly not written by any means, but I think there was going to be a very interesting dynamic that Cordell was maybe not anticipating, because he was taking a backseat on his law enforcement duties. We thought that James and his crew were going to be maybe up to no good, and Walker was just blinded to it.

Walker was a “Hell yes” or “hell no” kind of guy; he was either all-in on something, or he was kind of oblivious to it. And that was good when he was all-in on a job or all-in on trying to work with his family. But it was bad when he was oblivious: “Oh, no, the kids are fine. I’m fine. They’re nice. Don’t be suspicious of this person, or that person.” And he kind of got stuck in his own head, as we all often do at times. So we were going to explore that.

Is there something that you would have personally loved to have explored further with Cordell, if you had been given more time?

Oh my God. How long do you have? I really would’ve done the show forever. I just loved my character. I loved that I got to be in Austin with my family. I loved my cast and loved our crew. Maybe this is what ultimately was our downfall, but we weren’t ever seeking like, “Oh, here’s the explosion. Oh, here’s the wild cliffhanger where the aliens come down. Oh, here’s the next hot reality star that comes in and takes their clothes off.” It was never about sensationalism. It was more about life. When Anna and I first talked about the show many years ago, one of the reasons [this reboot] was called “Walker,” not “Walker, Texas Ranger,” was because he’s a widow and a father who happens to be in law enforcement. It was an exploration of everything that life could have to offer — heartbreak, disappointment, shame, love, becoming an empty nester — and I’m worse than heartbroken that we are not going to get to explore all those storylines. 

You’ve developed a tradition, on both “Supernatural” and “Walker,” of being the one to deliver the news of a renewal or a cancellation to your cast and crew. How did that happen this time around?

Yes. I talked to David Stapf at CBS and Brad Schwartz at CW before the announcement was made. And when Brad and I were talking, he was wildly flattering of “Walker” and what we had done, and he has his directives as well. He asked me, “Hey, how would you feel if we release the news or if you release the news? Do you have a preference? You’re CW royalty. You’ve been here since Day 1. How do you want to do this?” I thought about it, and I was like, “You know what, man? I think it might be best if I go ahead and make the announcement.” He was like, “Cool. Just go ahead.” And I asked him, “Do you want me to send what I’m going to post to you first, or do you want me to just go and post it?” And he goes, “We know you. We love you. We trust you. You don’t need to double check it with me. Just go ahead and send it when you’re ready.”

It was not easy to see the keyboard on my phone through the tears in my eyes, but I was grateful that I was allowed to [do that]. So often, when these big announcements are made, it’s like, “OK, here’s what’s going to happen. Don’t say anything until 1 p.m. in three days because we haven’t called all the outlets yet.” It felt like a very human send-off to go, “OK, do what you need to say, and we will reiterate it.” It felt like a great part of the closure that I’m still seeking. 

Did The CW ever give you a reason for the cancellation? Did it come down to budgetary reasons? Do you know any of the particulars?

Yeah. I talked with the head of CBS and the head of Nexstar/CW, I talked with the other [executive producers] on “Walker,” and I think it was a multivariate kind of issue. My understanding is — and again, this is just what I’m told — that Nexstar is going in a different direction with The CW. I mean, they have an hour of “Trivial Pursuit” and an hour of “Scrabble” coming up. I don’t know why you wouldn’t just download the app or grab a board game and play with your friends, but they’re clearly just — what’s that great quote? It’s like, “If somebody tells you who they are, ask questions. If somebody shows you who they are, believe them.”

I feel like The CW that I was a part of last year is not The CW that I was a part of under [former chairman and CEO] Mark Pedowitz for that entire, almost 20-year stretch. They’re just changing the network around, where it’s not really going to be a TV network as much as it’s going to be, “Here’s something fun for an hour that you’ll never watch again, but hopefully you watch it. And it’s cheap!” And I hate to say that, but I’m just being honest. I mean, fuck it. They can’t fire me again. I’m just being brutally honest. I think it felt to me like they were looking for really easy, cheap content that they could fill up time with.

You’ve only had a few weeks to process the cancellation, but have you given any thought to what you will do next?

I left two days [after the cancellation was announced] to go to Europe for work and then for play. My wife and kids met me out there, and we took a little vacation that was already planned. It was strange, and it was both horrible and wonderful. It was horrible because I really wanted to grieve. I really wanted to sit there and grieve, and call my cast. But here I was, eight or 10 hours ahead of their time zone, and I couldn’t make a phone call to everybody I wanted to make. The texts would come in when I woke up in the morning, and I just wanted or needed a personal connection with everybody who I had worked with for so long. But it was great, because I had a lot of distractions.

But I haven’t taken a whole lot of time just yet to think about what’s next. I kind of said this at the end of “Supernatural”: I wasn’t interested in acting [again], per se. I do love producing. I love the production aspect, and I love the problem-solving that comes with it. So there are a few things that my wife and I are in the process of developing that I would love to produce and act in. But beyond that, I still feel like I haven’t grieved the loss of “Walker,” so I don’t know yet if I trust my feelings. That sounds like a cop-out. I’m so sorry.

No, that’s a totally valid answer, considering that you openly spoke about how you hoped “Walker” would last just as long as, if not longer than, “Supernatural.” It’s natural that you wouldn’t necessarily know where to go from here.

Yeah, I don’t want to disappear into the bushes by any means, but I kind of want to disappear into the bushes. But hopefully, at this point in my life, and much like Cordell realized at the end of Season 4, I need to take a good, long, hard look at my personal life and the time I spend with my family and my friends, and I need to stop being so aggressive and obsessed with work. I still want to work, but for now, you’ll find me in and out of the bushes, hanging out with family and seeing friends. If a project comes up and I don’t care about it, then money doesn’t matter. But if a project comes up and I love the story or there’s somebody I really want to work with, then all right, [I’ll do it].

One of the people that you presumably want to work with again is Eric Kripke, who already recruited your former “Supernatural” costar Jensen Ackles to star in his current show, “The Boys.” Now that your schedule has opened up, are you officially joining the final season of “The Boys”?

Well, I’ll say this: Kripke and I texted today. It’s not been written yet, but I think he was saying [the final season] doesn’t even film until 2025. So yeah, I’m going to go play in Kripke’s newest playground. I had a great time the first time around, so I’m sure I’ll have a great time here again. I love the show. I think it’s hilarious and exciting. But you were asking what my plans for the future were — and I love Jensen and Eric Kripke. Obviously, I’ll be indebted to [Kripke] and entangled with him forever. I met my wife because of him. I was Sam Winchester because of him. “Supernatural” happened because of him. So working with him on a show that I enjoy, I’m like, “Yeah, when do I fly out?” But I don’t think we would film until at least January. 

Your body of work has spanned so many genres, but is there a specific genre that you are looking to explore next?

I thought “Walker” was kind of a mixture of “Gilmore Girls” and “Supernatural.” It was a family show with excitement and stunts, and macro storylines married with the micro. You know what? There’s a script that I love, and if we can get it turned into something, then I’d love to be a part of it. It’s actually a sitcom, but not a slapstick or knee-slapping sitcom. It’s kind of like a family-esque sitcom. It could actually be an hourlong show that you’d kind of define as a sitcom.

One of the things I really enjoyed about “Walker” was the humor that I was able to try and bring to screen, because my characters on “Gilmore Girls” and “Supernatural” were more stoic and serious, and I am by nature a much goofier person than the characters I’d played for 20 years. It terrifies me, because I think I’m funny among friends, but I don’t think I’m a funny person. I just think I’m goofy.

I’d like to explore that. It’s scary. It’s something I haven’t done, and I think I’d be very intrigued. 

It seems very difficult for dramatic actors to make that transition to comedy.

It’s so difficult!

You’ve now starred in over 450 episodes of primetime network TV, which is no small feat. What is your biggest takeaway from the time you’ve spent on The WB and The CW? When you think back to your biggest aspirations when you began on “Gilmore Girls,” how did your dreams ultimately compare to your reality?

Yeah, it’s been a long time. I think there’s some form of the saying, “If I only knew then what I know now…” Oftentimes, [this is] such a cutthroat industry. I think I spent so long in my adult life trying to get to a point where I could live my life, where I felt comfortable, where I felt safe and secure. I love storytelling. I love storytellers. I love raconteurs. I love that friend we all have that can just talk for an hour, and you’re laughing, you’re crying, you’re interested, and you’re learning. I love being able to pretend to be one of those characters on screen.

But I think along the way, it feels like I really learned, “Hey, don’t work to earn. Work to learn.” And at some point in time, you’ve got to look in the mirror and go, “Hey, you’re working towards some ever-moving goalpost. Why don’t you try and enjoy it now?” I think that’s kind of where I sit now. We’re just about a month [removed] from the announcement that we weren’t picked up again, so it’s kind of funny how life imitates art, or art imitates life. What Cordell went through in the finale and what I’m going through now are mirrors. I’ll be 42 next month. Am I waiting until I’m 60 and I have 800 episodes of television or something? I have to live my life now. I’ve got a 12-year-old, a 10-year-old, and a 7-year-old. 

I think, ironically, in trying to tell somebody else’s story for so long, I’ve realized that my story has value too.

Variety

[gojoshotblackwife]

|| 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗍, 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋．

꥟ 𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖾 x 𝘢𝘧𝘢𝘣!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

꥟ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋．

☽ 𝗰𝘄: 𝟣𝟪+ 𝗆𝖽𝗇𝗂, 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍, 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁, 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗍𝗈𝗑𝗂𝖼!𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖾, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 (𝗈𝖻𝗏𝗂), 𝖼𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗎𝗌 (r! 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀), 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗆𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 (𝗋!𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀) 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽 (𝗂𝖿 𝗎 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗇𝗍), 𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖾, 𝖼𝗎𝗆 𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀

☆ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 𝟤.𝟦𝗄

— 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝗎𝗒 𝗍𝗅𝗈𝗎𝟤, 𝘀𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁 𝗽𝗮𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗲! 🇵🇸 —

|| 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 while 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽！

you spend most of your days tending to the children of jackson. kissing boo-boos or cleaning up accidents. child care is your calling and you’re happy to contribute to your community, jackson, however possible.

your nights, however, consist of anxious pacing, impatience and (understandable) overthinking.

checking the digital clock on your lovers bedside, the glowing red numbers read ‘3:00 AM’ . as each minute passed you could feel your heart sinking deeper and deeper into your chest, imagining the endless endeavors your green-eyed girl could be facing at this very moment. oh how you fear for ellie’s life as if it were your own. your mind often flickers images of a world where you were more than the owner of jackson’s child care facility. a world where you didn’t have to sit and wait anxiously for the door to open like an abandoned puppy. you yearn to care for ellie like you care for those kids. to stay by her side and prevent the bruises and scars, not tending to them after the damage had already been done.

all the fingers and toes in the world couldn’t add up to the endless times you watched ellie stumble through her bedroom door, covered in scratches or riddled with bloodstains. too many times were you afraid to ask and too many times have you immediately rushed to her side to tackle her with little “i love you”s and “it’s okay”s before leading her to the bathroom, a warm wet rag in hand.

you almost hate yourself for the simple act of not being able to be there for ellie whilst she fought off deadly infected or dangerous looters. you knew you couldn’t go out there with her, hell you spent the entirety of your life inside jackson’s walls, coddled from the dangers that roam outside of them. you were never built for that shit. but ellie, she was made for it. you could tell from the moment you saw her, scuffed and dirty from her voyage with joel. she was an animal, in the best way possible. she was rough, and had character, more than you did anyways.

you ache imagining the day joel, tommy or dina would slowly march through jackson’s child care center, hat in hand with a grieving look you could read from a mile away. you can hear the ringing in your ear while you read lips that read “ellie is-”

the sound of squeaky door hinges shakes you from your thoughts, your head snapping up to meet tired, green orbs and a small smirk.

“angel. you stayed up for me?” ellie asks, an arm holding her side. she’s clearly hurt and doesn’t want you to see. rushing to her side, you’re careful not to squeeze or hold her too tight, afraid to worsen any of the injuries she’s obviously obtained throughout her patrol.

“ ‘so glad you’re safe. ‘was so worried” you mutter into her ear, arms slung over her shoulders. you can hear your girl chuckle as she takes her free arm to wrap it around your waist, relaxing into your touch. “i know babe, im so sorry i took longer than usual-“ she starts before you swiftly cut her off. “nono, please don’t apologize, don’t explain. it’s okay .” you let your head fall down, resting it on her shoulder, you were so glad to have your girl home. “are you hurt?- of course you are look at you.” you answer before ellie had the chance to respond, peering down at her slender frame. you feel tears begin to well up.

you look back up at ellie, who appears to be in just as much distress as you are. you don’t have to ask. you can just tell.

“please els, let me clean you up, then we can sleep. fuck, i can’t even imagine..” you trail off, grabbing her rough hand to lead her to the bathroom.

soft little thuds follow your comparatively silent ones. your clean soft feet lead ellie’s old dirty boots, slight creaks in the wooden floor of this old house you’d turned into a home with your girlfriend.

the sting of cold tile floors was enough to remind you to turn around, just a quick glance to make sure she was still there. orpheus envied you.

“ let’s take these boots off before we get in here?” you plead, slowly crouching on your knees to assist her with your request. if ellie’s heart somehow stopped beating in that moment she’d die happy knowing she had a woman who’d wait up for her on cold winter nights and fall to her knees to care for her. if her side didn’t hurt so bad, she’d probably laugh at how smitten she is with you, how content she is watching the muscles in your face contort to frustration, hunching over, and lost in concentration tugging at the shabby boots. finally, you manage to get them off her feet, a pair of mix-matched socks greeting you with scents of rain and sweat. you place them right outside the door before pulling yourself up, signaling ellie to finally enter the bathroom and hop up on the sink.

— ꥟ ꥟ ꥟ —

little words are exchanged, as you tend to ellie’s wounds. only an occasional wince or a heavy breath. shirt lifted, she gnaws on it to ease the inevitable pain. even still, you clean up, pat dry and bandage every small cut, every mahogany bruise— no questions asked. you two remain in comfortable silence as you scrub the shorter girl clean of her guilt and shame.

ellie keeps her head hung low. she tries concealing any hint of emotion, but her cringes of pain fail her that night.

“are you okay?” your freehand lays gently on her thigh, makes a home there.

ellie’s silence is telling. but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to know who or what did this to her. “ellie.” you demand, brown eyes searching for hers in return. a heavy sigh falls from your chapped lips, dry from the brittle december air. “please i just- im worried. i dunno what goes on out there but-“

“doesn’t fucking matter.” ellie finally grunts out, head lower than before. she doesn’t mean that. how could she mean that? “doesn’t matter? el this is the worst you’ve come home in months. what-“ your cries of concern are abruptly interrupted when the freckled girl hops off of the sink, pushing past you to make her way to her wardrobe. she angrily strips, as if furious at the clothes that keep her warm. jacket tossed and cargos flung, you pitter-pat after her. “ellie, if you’re upset i understand. but i cannot help you if you don’t talk to me.” you beg, desperation tainting your tone. in nothing but boxers, a bra and half finished bandages, she ignores every word, pretending not to hear you over the sound of her anxiously digging through clothes, solely focused on finding some pants to sleep in and forgetting this whole night ever happened.

“doesn’t. matter.” she repeats like those are only two words of english she can remember. pants found, she stomps into them. patience thinning, you grab her shoulder, keeping her put for the moment. you can’t help the tears that pour from you, your lip quivering while you ask, “why wouldn’t this—you—matter to me?”. ellie’s dark, green eyes meet your wet brown ones and she feels her soul crush. fuck, what is she doing? she’s being an asshole to you , the last person on this fucked up earth she’d ever intentionally hurt. and god, are you hurting, face pinching into unimaginable despair, your mind pondering over what you could’ve possibly done to be treated this way after countless nights of mending her broken wings, kissing her scars better.

finally broken at the sight of her sad girl, she admits, “i almost died.” the admission tore through her as she said it, she can feel the lump in her throat. you shudder at the thought, pulling her in close. breathing in her hair, her skin, anything you could to remind yourself that she’s here and not lying dead in the snow somewhere. “els” you whisper. “i don’t think i’d know what to do with myself if you left me.” falling into the crook of her neck once more, aching for her touch. as if on cue, ellie’s strong arms clench your waist, squeezing like it was the last time she’d ever get to touch you again. you pull back, teary eyed, awaiting something, anything, from ellie.

unable to form words, or thoughts even, she opens her mouth before attaching it to yours, hoping to communicate through intertwined tongues, swabbed spit and muffled moans. enough said, you reciprocate instantly. if this is how she wanted to “talk” about it, you’re more than willing to let her speak to you like this until the sun comes up.

ellie’s hands journey to your soft cheeks, caressing them before tightening her grip, head tilting to the side to search deeper, to find your deepest secrets and suck them out of you. you let her in, your darkest desires revealing themselves as your tongues melted into each other, sounds of exchanged spit overwhelming your burning hot ears.

it’s not too long before the backs of your legs are pressed up against the foot of ellie’s bed. accepting defeat, you pull your girlfriend down with you, letting her take you in any way she deems fit. swiftly, el peels your clothes from your perfect body. a clean canvas compared to ellie’s bruised masterpiece, she swears though, tonight she’ll leave you with a few brushstrokes colored shades of deep red with hints of purple, if you’re lucky.

bare now, you peer up at a sweaty, almost feral, ellie, face dangerously close to your own. while yet to utter a single word, she finds new inventive ways to speak to you: a firm hand on your doughy breast, kneading at you like a cat, an additional firm hand on your waist to keep you still and a secure thigh up against your throbbing core, quickly dampening at her touch.

she’s quick when she lowers her face into your aching neck. it begs for ellie’s mouth, and sighs of relief at the feeling of her soaked tongue, tracing small circles while her lips suck and slurp away at your delicate skin. you’re sensitive, so you’re fast to mewl out a weak cry of her name. arms taking their rightful place wrapped around her, one hand reaching up to her auburn hair and a second digging into her back responding to the added pressure on your clit. a needy little thing you are, squirming into ellie’s thigh whilst she moves down to your pert nipple, savoring your taste. you’re a mess. hair disheveled, you cup ellie’s face. you wanted—needed—her, pulling her face closer to utter a small “please”.

ellie gives you what you need, a sneaky hand trailing down past your tummy before landing at your dripping bliss, opening your clam to reveal the precious pearl inside. el teases you slow, but with intention, her middle and index appendages rubbing you where you liked it the most. ellie can’t help but bring her face down to get a better view of the mess she’s made of you. a cheeky smile spreads across her face. this is what matters. fuck whatever happened before she walked through the door, before she mistakenly treated you like shit. she wanted this, you.

muscle memory takes over when ellie replaces the fingers on your bud with the warm muscle in her mouth. her rough tongue hits every nerve, lapping away at you. what a thirsty dog she was, whimpering and whining into your messy cunt, devouring your essence like a final meal.

the room is already muggy and hot, your little huffs filling the air, an invisible cloud of your warm arousal gets all over the windows, makes them foggy.

a broken moan falls from your precious lips, a melody from heaven to ellie’s ears. she craves to hear more of your sweet music, letting her fingers slide into you, plucking your strings. she plays you like her favorite guitar, maneuvering her fingers to play the perfect chord. utter bliss is the only emotion you’re capable of feeling. your hands journey down your person to meet ellie’s head in the middle. fingers perfectly fitting into auburn locks of hair, you rein her in, riding her face like she rode shimmer on those almost-fatal patrols.

your legs tense up at the feeling of your inevitable orgasm, and too soon did it come, picking you up before releasing you to white lights and blurring vision. repeated chants of “fuck, ellie fuck fuck fuck-” flood ellie’s bedroom, bouncing off the walls and into ellie’s ears as she curls up into your special spot, no intention of stopping anytime soon.

you shake and beg but to no avail, your green-eyed girl tears daggers into you, looking up oh-so innocently, her digits increasing her speed as she drinks up your release, drunk on it. overstimulation upon you, you search for something—anything— to free yourself of ellie’s grip, her forearm keeping you glued to the bed. completely spent, your best bet is weak pushes to ellie’s head, shaking your own as you squeak out a frail “too much. please el.” at last, she lets up, that same strong forearm releasing its grip to rub your abdomen, you catch a glimpse of the moth tatted there in ink before throwing your head back, exhaustion catching up to you after a long day of caring for the children of jackson, and an even longer night of waiting up for ellie.

roles reversing, ellie understands now that it’s her turn to take care of you . in her own way of expressing gratitude, she lifts you into her arm, silently thanking you in her head for staying up late with her, cleaning her up or listening to stories of her day. and before you can even think twice, ellie places you gently on your side of the bed, warm comforter embracing your bare figure. you’re half asleep when you hear ellie walk away, returning with water. without a word, she puts the glass in your face, urging you to hydrate. very slowly, you take the glass with both hands, slowly blinking while you down it to satisfy ellie. and satisfied she is, taking the glass from your tired hands, placing it on the bed side table.

at the brink of sleep now, you’re finally able to succumb when you feel ellie crawl into bed behind you, rugged hands tethering you close, slim arms holding you tight. it is only then, once she hooks a chin onto your shoulder, do you hear her whisper before falling asleep:

“‘m sorry. i love you.”

— ꥟꥟꥟ —

𝗱𝗶𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒’𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝖼. 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀 <𝟥𝟥

© 𝗀𝗈𝗃𝗈𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗐𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦

[k-godling]

Welcome to the ACOTAR fandom!

I’d love your takes on the Archeron sisters!

Thank you, I’ve only really been properly in the fandom for a few months, but I HAVE THOUGHTS! This is also a warning that some of my thoughts are ‘hot takes’ in the fandom, but these are my thoughts.

Warning: This is heavy anti-Inner Circle

Nesta Archeron

Ok! We’re gonna start with the BIG one.

TL:DR - I love Nesta’s character. I think she’s complex and layered in a way that few other characters are (and in a way that I like).

Other characters that I think are layered/complex or are going to be include:

• Rhysand - I don’t like his layers, I think that if he stayed the morally greyish character he was in the first book, I would absolutely love him, but I hate the way that all of his bad deeds are excused because ‘I wear a mask’ and ‘it was for the greater good’… like I just want him be quiet sometimes.

• Eris - I can’t wait for his story. Because he also ‘wears a mask’ for the good of his ENTIRE COURT. And I think he is just what Rhys would’ve ended up like if he didn’t have the cushioning of the Velaris and the Inner Circle, but I think this is better. Eris doesn’t push blame or anything like that. I can’t wait to learn more about him.

• Elain - This is gonna be short cuz she has her own section, but I think she’s such a blank slate rn that I think she’s absolutely sizzling underneath. She’s got shit to say.

• Azriel - I need him to blow up and leave. And I know that’s dramatic and over the top but I NEED IT. In my opinion, he’s the most likely to do it, to rebel and get out of the Night Court, within the Inner Circle because he has the ‘ice that (Rhys) can’t thaw’ or something like that. And because we’ve seen Rhys and Az argue until Rhys has to pull rank, and I think that says a lot about how much Az’s personal loyalty effects him, because a lot of the time he listens because Rhys is his brother and High Lord, not because he agrees with him. Also I want to get into the nitty gritty of Azriel feelings (ALL OF THEM)… self hatred, desperation, abandonment issues.

ANYWAYS… I got off topic, but I like Nesta’s character complexity the most because it’s makes me think of how realistic her reaction to things were. Like the IC have been drinking, gambling, whoring about, and all the shit they’re accusing her of doing, FOR 500 YEARS, but she’s been doing it for a few months and suddenly it’s their biggest problem I’m the world. It’s also massively hypocritical she’s only been doing this for a few months, and it took Cassian 10 YEARS to recover after his mother died and he DESTROYED AN ENTIRE VILLAGE. But if Nesta did that she’d be the bad guy and get locked up.

IT WASN’T REHAB and I will stand by that. If locking her up in a building she cannot get out of, with a man she wants nothing to do with, who ends up have sex with her when she’s in a vulnerable enough state to need ‘rehab’, is the Inner Circle’s acceptable version of ‘helping’ the. I don’t even want to know what ‘healthy’ looks like to them, cuz it ain’t them.

Also, she’s not a mean/nasty person. She has a mirroring personality. She’s gives back what she’s given. It’s why the Valkyries love her so much, it’s why she’s friends with Azriel, it’s why she was civil with Eris before Cassian barged into their dance. Similarly, it’s why she doesn’t care for Amren (Amren cares for no one), it’s why she dislikes Mor (who has had a weird obsession with hating her and making her uncomfortable), it’s why she’ll never by in good terms with Rhys (he will never accept her into his ‘family’ without saying something at every moment he can, and she will always retaliate),

This would also effect her relationship with Feyre, because Feyre will put her Court relationships first (she puts their opinion above reason when dealing with her sisters, she only wanted to help Nesta because of how it made her look as High Lady). Another reason to further this point is the fact that they stuck Cassian up there with her, which in my opinion was to get her to soften up to the mating bond and make it easier to control her/her powers (orchestrated by Rhysand), and probably for ‘the better of the court’.

Speaking of Cassian, I hate him as her mate. I don’t think he likes her at all, definitely doesn’t love her, he just wants a mate. And they’re so incompatible thats their mating bond makes no sense. Why would the Cauldron give her a mate that she couldn’t genetically have kids with if the entire point of mates is to make the most powerful offspring, cuz before she changed her anatomy, she couldn’t have held his baby.

That’s where I’m gonna finish the Inner Circle but cuz I’m gonna get heated otherwise.

The only thing left is her with the Dread Trove. First of all, the Dread Trove currently only answers to her, therefore she should have control of how to use it, especially for when she thinks it should and shouldn’t be used. Same with her Made weapons, none of the Inner Circle should have authority or power over where those weapons go, and who should wield them, other than her, especially since no one else can even touch them.

Saying this, I understand Rhys’ rage about Nesta giving the Mask to Bryce. I understand both POVs because both were for what they believed to be right, WITH GOOD REASONS, and not just ‘it’s for the betterment of Prythian’ because both of their theories were possible to happen if she did or didn’t give the Mask.

HOWEVER, Rhys berating her the way that he did to point where someone had to step in and it WASN’T CASSIAN, but someone Nesta doesn’t even know, was sickening. I will never trust either of those two men to actually care about Nesta with sincerity and not with an ulterior motive.

This is where I’m gonna stop, because this is gonna end up to be long post.

Feyre Archeron

I’m gonna try make this as simple as possible.

• ACOTAR - I liked her

• ACOMAF - I was iffy about her

• ACOWAR - I hated her

• ACOFAS - I didn’t care for her

• ACOSF - I hated her

Just to be clear, I’m highly critical of Feyre, because the writing of her is inconsistent and contradictory, and I don’t think that it’s going to change.

Firstly, she has a panic attack and loses control when being locked up for ‘her own safety’, but then threatens to tie up and drag Nesta to the HoW if she refused? And that’s alright?

Let’s not forget that’s she’s a WAR CRIMINAL!!! The fact that she did everything she did in the Spring Court to get back at Tamlin, but it directly affected everyone in the Court EXCEPT FOR Tamlin (but it did later). And the fact that the Inner Circle was celebrating her for it.

PEOPLE LOST THEIR HOMES, THEIR BUSINESSES, THEIR LIVES. LITERALLY EVERYTHING BECAUSE OF HER. This is literally most of the reason that I cannot physically like her as a character. Because, at the end of the day, it’s doesn’t matter if ‘it was up to Tamlin’s decisions’ because she still caused it. That blood would still be on HER hands.

Also, HOT TAKE INCOMING, she shouldn’t be High Lady. She literally found out that far couldn’t lie within the same year/year and a half that she became High Lady. SHE KNOWS NOTHING ABOUT FAE. She basically JUST learned how to read ffs. And suddenly people who are over 500 years older have to listen to her orders when she knows nothing that shes talking about (specifically in reference to when she tells Azriel to pull out his spies and stop spying on Briallyn and he disagrees).

And how the Inner Circle expect the Court of Nightmares to respect her when the first time they’re introduced to her, she literally just know as Rhysand’s Whore, and gave him a lap dance, like I wouldn’t respect you either. Same goes for the people Under the Mountain, she was literally doing the same thing and suddenly they have to respect her cuz she’s in a position of ‘power’ (which I don’t believe is real btw, I think she’s only High Lady because Rhys gave her the title).

ALSO, I hate that everyone says she freed the Fae from Amarantha. No she didn’t, Tamlin did. Feyre bargained that if she finished the trials, or solved the riddle, it would free TAMLIN AND THE SPRING COURT, not everyone else. The only reason everyone else was free was because TAMLIN KILLED AMARANTHA.

(Also the fact that both her and Rhysand are still resentful of Tamlin even though he’s literally the entire reason they’re both still alive is fucking hilarious to me.)

I’ve already made the comments I wanted to make on her relationship with Nesta, and I can’t comment on her relationship with Elain because we haven’t seen enough of it on-page.

In my opinion, ACOTAR Feyre would absolutely hate ACOSF Feyre. What do you mean you have 5 houses? What do you mean you rule a court where 2/3’s of it are oppressed and girls’ virginities get sold to highest bidder and they get permanently mutilated, and you’ve done nothing but wear their wings like a costume? You’ve done nothing but basically encourage Hewn City to continue to brutalise their wives and daughters, and the cycle will never stop.

Then you can’t understand when people don’t want to live in your ‘perfect city’ that’s built in the backs of your other citizens, or work for you, when you do nothing for people who actually need it.

Also, I hate that she’s nosy af, and people just give her information, it politically makes no sense.

e.g. Eris spilling his guts about the night Lucien left Autumn, none of Feyre’s business because she obviously she doesn’t care about Lucien (but I’m not gonna get into that)

e.g. There was no need for Rhys to give Feyre Azriel’s backstory about his father and brothers, it makes no sense. Azriel is literally the most secretive person in the Night Court, I don’t think he’d just want you to spill his life story to someone who’s effectively a stranger, it doesn’t matter who you are.

e.g. Hiding Lucien’s real father from him and Helion, like wtf is going through your head, because now if they find out, there’s a possibility that the Night Court lose two allies, Day (Helion) and Autumn (Eris). Never mind Azriel and a blood duel, this damn secret is bad for you stupid political balance, but it’s not gonna go that way cuz SJM is so far up the Inner Circle’s asses, I’m surprised she’s not popping out the other end.

I’m gonna end this part here cuz it’s getting me heated and I don’t want to feel bad.

Elain Archeron

Ok, this part is going to be significantly lighter because I don’t have a lot of thoughts, but I will share some headcanons.

The reason this won’t be long is because I’m relatively ambivalent to canon Elain because I haven’t seen enough of her and her personality yet to have an informed opinion.

My opinion on the ship war thing is just that I don’t think she should even have a romantic relationship yet. I think she needs to find a place for herself in the world now that she’s fae, BEFORE she finds a significant other, because the other two sisters did it the other way and it’s now getting boring.

BUT, if I had to pick someone for her to be with, it would be Lucien, due to the fact that it’s impossible for me to see her with Azriel for the rest of her fae life, it makes no sense to me.

However, to plug any possible sort of future works I might do, I have crack ships of the Vanserras and the Archerons, but it’s not what you think.

I have a mini guilty pleasure ship of Eris x Elain, and Lucien x Nesta (but it has to be in the same universe, if you get what I mean)

With Elain x Eris, it’s because I have the theory that Elain is sizzling on the inside and is going to explode on the Inner Circle. Within this theory, I headcanon Elain to be sarcastically snarky (like Dorian/Lysandra from ToG) and can give Eris some his attitude back in playful way (which is a dynamic I love). And she gets violent when she needs to against people who try to hurt Eris, like when he NEEDS TO KILL BERON.

Also, I don’t think she’d be as sidelined in Autumn as she is in Night, because Eris takes care of the ENTIRE court, she could go around and ask for and give advice on how to grow certain flowers or crops because they’ll be a lot more farmers growing their own crops instead of importing them.

Also, in my opinion, Autumn Court is the most human court as of right now, which I think she would find comfort in, and it borders the Spring Court which I think she would love to visit.

Also in this headcanon, I think that she’d play a large part in Tamlin’s recovery and the revival of the Spring Court, which would be her path to possibly becoming a High Lady, of Spring if Tamlin abdicates or Autumn with Eris, if she would want either of these possibilities.

Lucien x Nesta should be obvious, I believe that SJM should have kept them mates. They would bounce off of each other well, he’d actually love her how she deserves to be loved, he’d probably act out whatever book scenes she’d want him to.

Anyways, those are my thought on the Archeron Sister - plus a few more tangents (sorry about that).

Also, I have an ACOTAR story planned, but it basically completely rewrites most canon events, so it’s an AU instead of a fanficion. Hints for it include azriel x oc, eris main character, Lucien main character, the dusk court, dragons, starborne power.

HOWEVER, in this AU, the other series will not exist. No Throne of Glass, no Crescent City. There will definitely be themes and passages used from those series, and names will be dropped (e.g. Ashryver) but it has nothing to do with this character, like Aelin won’t be mentioned at all as the Aelin from Throne of Glass.

Let me know if you want to see it xx

– Serenity 🩵