also sorry for the length!


19 AUS FOR JUSTINE :: Big Four In Storybrooke [14/19]


HICCUP HADDOCK III. Was raised in a family legendary for their skills in hunting for sport - something Hiccup has never excelled in. After disappointing his father once again when actually adopting an animal he finds in the forest (and naming him Toothless, of all things!), Hiccup is demoted to help run Gobber’s auto shop. One day Granny calls him in to repair a broken stove and (with much awkward fumbling and maybe a little deja vu) he meets a red-headed waitress named Merida.

MERIDA DUNBROCH. Works at Granny’s Diner to save up for the day she gets to see the world beyond Storybrooke’s boundaries (despite her mother’s disapproval). When not at work, she runs out into the woods and practices her archery. One afternoon, she breaks her compound bow and (having no where else to go) decides to seek the local mechanic’s help. Hiccup agrees to fix the bow, which in turn leads to an unlikely friendship (that seems to be a bit too familiar to both of them).

JACK FROST. Having no known relatives in Storybrooke, he lives with the Bennett family who was kind enough to take him in. Widely avoided in town (though no one really understood why they felt the urge to ignore him), he’s been known to be a bit of a loner. Currently part of the staff of the mental ward in which Belle was kept in secret. Was sometimes assigned to her cell, and found himself being especially nice and offering her extra pudding because she reminded him of a little girl he thinks he might have known (Hint: Emma). One day he goes to pick Sophie up from daycare when lo and behold he meets a blonde girl named Rapunzel.

RAPUNZEL CORONA. Adopted and raised by Mother Gothel, who runs Storybrooke’s daycare center. She frequently takes over the place when Gothel leaves to run errands. It is here where she befriends a boy named Jack Frost, who (since then) starts to visit the daycare more and more frequently …to help care for the children, of course. (Surprisingly, he is amazing with kids.) When not at the center, she mostly stays stuck in her room or by the house where she likes to draw the citizens who pass by or the wildflowers that grow by the water.


Summary: Jimin + you = sex but you + jungkook are a couple so + confusion and + guilt + cheating but also + nastiness. sorry thats my best description lmao

Type: SMUT. 18++++

Length: 6.8 k

A/N: My revised jimin smut so there would be no more confusion. i worked on the revised part in like 15 mins so sorry TT, i have a hoseok smut coming next so look out for that one! enjoy~

Originally posted by jjks

“Do you think he’d hate me?” Jimin’s voice was quiet, his fingers gripping the bottle of beer in his hand, he didn’t even look in Hoseok’s direction, only hearing a sigh from him.

“He’d kill you.”

Hoseok was right. Jimin didn’t answer him either way though. He opted to watch you instead.

You were laughing, your arms wrapped around Jungkook’s waist as you both swayed to the light music at the party, your bottles of beer in hand as you twirled and spun. Your hair framed your face in the most inviting way, your hoops glinting in the light of the dorms, your dark red dress creating patterns in the wind, and Jimin frowned.

Your body was clinging to the dress, and your lipstick was a little faded into a beautiful muted pink color, glittery eyelids and long eyelashes sparkled against your face as you and Jungkook danced around.

Jimin watched, his mood turning more sour by the second.

“I don’t care.” Jimin announced quietly, sulking and still not taking his gaze away from you. But Hoseok was gone and Jimin was left alone on the couch, his liquid courage lighting his fire as he chewed on his lip.

Your curves, your hair, your skin, Jimin wanted to touch it all, he wanted to feel it under him, he wanted you to wrap your arms around him the same way you did for Jungkook.

Jimin bit his lip harder, tasting a little blood.

He watched as you pulled away from Jungkook for a moment, taking a swig of your drink, laughing at something Taehyung said that Jimin didn’t even bother to pick up. His focus was on you, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

He didn’t want to. He wanted to stare at you forever.

A slight resolve began to wash over Jimin’s face, a small plan that he didn’t want to acknowledge he was going through with set into motion, and he swallowed hard as he stared at your figure only a few feet away.

“Jungkook-“ he began, his voice only low enough for himself to hear, gulping in his last drink of beer as he stood up, stretching his arms, “I hope you forgive me for tonight.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

omg can you write a hc for drunk race please? ily

honestly this is such a good one there’s a lot of potential here lol so sorry for the length. also this is newsies!race since the preference wasn’t specified hope that’s fine!

  • first of all, every newsie in their right mind wouldn’t even think about giving race alcohol
  • so every time he shows up with it, which isn’t all too often tbh, no one even knows how he got it in the first place
  • but then again no one even knows how he really got his signature cigars, so at this point everyone just assumes that race is either really awful with money management or he’s just really good at stealing things
  • it’s the second one
  • but anyway, you know how race acts towards weisel when he’s buying papes? that whole like teasing, flirty “i’ll call ya sweetheart if you spot me 50 papes” thing?
  • that’s drunk race
  • that’s exactly him right there except 10x worse
  • he gets all physical and clingy and giggly and flirty towards all the newsies and he’s met with different kinds of reactions
  • jack is the most used to it having known race for a long time. he’s at the point where he just plays along, flirting back, letting race hang onto him, etc. while also making sure he isn’t overdoing it with the alcohol
  • (“hiiii jackyy” “how’s my fave boy doing?” “better now that you’re here now dollface” “aww thanks pal” “d’ya love me jack?” “always baby. now have some water so you won’t be grippin’ so hard when you wake up in the morning.”)
  • davey gets super shy and embarrassed but not in a bad way. his face gets super red whenever race is all over him since he’s not used to attention like that, but he usually doesn’t fend off his advances 
  • (“hey davey?” “yeah?” “you have… the prettiest eyes” “oh my god race” “seriously they’re like two big, green jewels” “race please” “waitwait waait don’t move imma get in closer to look” “r a c e”)
  • crutchie loves drunk race. it’s cause he loves how normal race is all sarcastic, snarky comments and bad attitudes while drunk race is full of love, affection, and sentiment. once race sobers up, crutchie’s always there to tease and remind him of all the sappy things he’s done 
  • (“c’mon race we had such a beautiful moment yesterday” “crutchie i swear to god-“ “gather round boys and girls cause i’m about to tell the tale of how race spent 20 minutes improvising poetry about all the things he loves about me-“ “say one more word and you’ll be wakin’ up in the mornin’ with two bum legs.” “i love you too bud.”
  • albert is the biggest victim out of all of them tho lol. cause since race is p much his best friend (even though they always nag, tease, and make fun of each other) and they’re “roommates” in the sense that they sleep in close quarters, he’s always the one who has to deal with race the morning after, along with also receiving a decent amount of the flirting and clinginess. 
  • (“race. c’mon get up the morning’ bell rang like 5 minutes ago.” “nngggghhhhh” “…don’t make me do it.” “*slowly looks up, looking like death, anger blazing in his eyes* you wouldn’t da-“ “*uses a metal pipe to SLAM the metal railing repeatedly* WAKEY WAKEY MR. HIGGINS TIME TO START THE DAY!!!” “if i wasn’t half dead, tomorrow’s pape would be reporting the death of an ugly orphan boy who toppled over the railing and smashed his brains in, i swear to god.” “drunk race would never treat me like this, he loves me.” “drunk race is dead. and so are you.” “*screeching*”)

request headcannons from me or submit your own!
(and please specify if you want newsies hcs or modern hcs. thank you!)


Yoojin’s “Summer Kiss” winks.✨✨


What if a Sburb player had a handy device to keep track of their session?

Wouldn’t it be nice if you could tell exactly what your stats were without having to guess? How about knowing if your friends are okay or not without having to pester them ceaselessly? Maybe you’d like to keep track of the fraymotifs available to you, or how you’re doing on that grist you’re stealing from that one asshole that has way too much? 

I present Sburb Mobile Beta, for all your adventuring needs! No longer will you have to waste time worrying about silly bullshit when you have quests to do and monsters to strife with!

Currently working on implementing an echeladder and a server viewport. Stay tuned!

(This is a phone customization that I did on my Android! Everything is dynamic to really give it that “actively playing in a session” feel! Statuses change, the bars replenish and deplete at different rates, so on and so forth. Also my apps are scattered around the screens, so it is functional as well as neat to look at. :B)

(also im sorry about the length of this post agh)

anonymous asked:

Microfic idea: Paulina turns down all the guys' promposals and then shows up with Star

23 guys. Paulina turned down 23 guys, prom was less than a week away, and the rumors were starting to circulate.

“Sorry boys,” she confirmed the next day, after shooting down candidate #24. She flashed a smug smile, pleased as could be. “I’m taken.”

She refused to divulge her date’s identity, however (she, quote, ‘wanted it to be a surprise’) and thus a conspiracy was born.

“I bet it’s a nerd,” someone guessed at lunchtime. Paulina’s mystery date had become the talk of the school, and some of the most ardent gossipers sat with their yearbooks open, considering the options. Paulina was no stranger to dating those on the lower rungs, or giving geeks their 15 minutes of fame. But the most likely candidate–Danny Fenton–was already spoken for, and, when confronted with questions, his girlfriend Sam Manson kicked the hecklers to the curb for daring to even suggest.

“What if it’s a celebrity?” someone else suggested days later. After all, if any girl at Casper High could catch the eye of a celeb, it was Paulina. And it would make for one hell of a surprise. This theory grew so popular that many people planned to bring camcorders and autograph books to the event on Prom night.

“Or maybe,” a few whispered among the halls, a rare but not outlandish theory; “Maybe Paulina finally nabbed a date with the Ghost Boy.”

But none of the pre-Prom buzz could’ve prepared them for the truth. On the big night, Paulina arrived, wearing an elegant pink dress, a violet rose, and a smirk. No hesitation. Casper’s Queen Bee waltzed through the double doors, and on her arm, visibly nervous but also excited, was her date, a blonde in blue.

The matching corsages confirmed it. Paulina’s date was none other than her best friend–now girlfriend–Star.

And not even an appearance from Phantom could’ve caused a bigger uproar.

anonymous asked:

I have a desperate need and you're my only hope. Are you still taking fitzsimmons fic prompts? Because: ACCIDENTAL (SPACE) BABY ACQUISITION. please? I'd love you forever, I'm in Pain.

softness came from the starlight (and filled me full to the bone)

Sitting at her bench in the space station lab, Jemma’s head snaps up when she hears Fitz’s raised voice coming from the hallway.

Her heart thumps as she realises she hasn’t heard him be so loud for weeks, not since he was another person, in another world. Swallowing hard, she pushes her stool back from the work bench and leaves the lab to find him.

The ceilings of the station’s corridors are curved, and painted a sickening shade of green that still makes Jemma’s stomach turn even after a fortnight of living there. She bites down the taste of nausea, and hurries down the hallway to where Fitz is standing with his back to her, two of the station’s security guards in front of him.

The guards leave as she approaches, throwing one last glance over their shoulders, and, hearing her footsteps behind him, Fitz turns to meet her. When she sees what he is holding in his arms, Jemma gasps.

‘Fitz! Is that…’

Cradled in the crook of her best friend’s elbow is a baby, with chubby arms and podgy legs, and skin that is completely and utterly blue.

Read on AO3!

aro/ace/nb dr who quotes

here, have a fuckton of quotes that either confirm or imply aro-spectrum ace nb dr who

Keep reading

Just One Video pt 2

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Gosh darn profanity and I think that’s about it

A/N: I don’t know how the train system works in Queens so let’s pretend it made sense okay guys? Also I am in love with this part like wow. Sorry for the length, might wanna grab some snacks and get comfortable folks

word count: 6k (yikes)

Part 1

I must have seen the video at least 30 times before I decided that it was real. I slowed down the video by carefully dragging my thumb across the screen, trying to find a flaw in the editing -but this seemed authentic; he couldn’t possibly fake all of it. This was all just hard to believe. 

Was he out fighting crime right now? Is that why I heard sirens in the background?

All this time, it was Peter Parker who helped protect Queens. The same Peter Parker who fought the Avengers and defeated the Vulture guy a couple of months ago.

He’s just a kid, how is he capable of doing this? How can he balance school life and fight crime? What about that Stark intern-

I audibly gasped when I realized that the Stark internship he talked about was probably a cover for being freaking Spider-Man!

I heard scratching at my door and knew immediately that Buddy wanted to come into my room. I got off my bed and opened my door. Right when I opened it, Buddy ran to my bed and made himself comfortable, panting loudly. I gently closed the door and joined him on the bed. Looking back at the phone, I mindlessly pet Buddy.

“Okay,” I said finally. “If I’m supposed to believe all this, I should do some investigating. Like Sherlock does,” I said to Buddy. He merely blinked at me, trying to lick my hand. “I can solve this case, right Bud?” I cooed, ruffling up his ears.

“Sweetheart! Dinner’s ready!” my mom called from the dining room.

Buddy perked up at the sound of my mom’s voice and ran to my door.

“Traitor,” I muttered, following Buddy to free him from my room. Once I opened my door, Buddy ran to the living room as if his life depended on it. Rolling my eyes, I trudged behind. I patted my jeans to make sure the phone was still there; I kept Peter’s phone in my pocket so that Michael couldn’t get to it. I sat down at the dinner table, mentally planning out my next move. 

“Your dad told me you got your tickets, isn’t that exciting?” my mom chirped, serving herself some food. 

I served my own plate and said, “Mmhm.”

“Calm down honey, you don’t want to get too happy now,” she said, quirking an eyebrow at me.

I smiled slightly and said, ”I am excited, really, but the concert isn’t for another couple of months, you know? I’m just tired anyway.”

“You wouldn’t be so tired if you slept early, like I always tell you to,” my mom scolded, taking a bite.

“It’s cause you’re always on that phone,” Michael said, in a teasing voice.

I laughed, “Shut up Mike.”

“Got a head ache?” he asked me.

“It’s cause you’re always on that phone,” I finished, chuckling. 

He lightly laughed back and said, “You don’t even have your phone though.”

I narrowed my eyes at him as he ate, realizing that I now had to explain to my parents why I didn’t have my phone.

“You lost your phone?” my mom exclaimed.

“Again?” my dad added from the living room. 

“No, I didn’t lose it. I know exactly where it is,” I said, sipping my water.

“Not here,” Mikey snickered.

I kicked him under the table and mouthed, “Shut it.”

“Where is it?” my mom asked.

I waved my hand absentmindedly and said, “I accidentally took my friend’s phone and vice versa.”

“What friend?” my dad asked, lowering the volume on the TV.

I knew I couldn’t say it was Peter’s, because God forbid I talk to boys, so I said, “Michelle’s.”

My dad nodded, satisfied with that answer, resuming his attention to the basketball game. 

“Oh, so you’ll just switch back at school then?” my mom added.

“Yup,” I said, popping the “p.” “But maybe we’ll meet up over the weekend or something if she wants it back sooner, I don’t know yet.”

I continued eating until I felt the phone vibrate. I got startled and slightly choked on my water. “Speaking of Michelle, that must be her. I gotta take this, dinner was great Mom!” I rambled, grabbing my dishes as I left the table to throw them in the sink -careful not to break any. I vaguely heard my mom telling me to slow down as I sprinted to my room, hastily answering the call.

“Hello?” I breathed, closing my door.

“Y/N?” Peter asked.

I inhaled sharply and let out a breath, trying to even it out. “Yeah,” I said, going to sit down on my bed. 

“Is this a bad time?” he asked, uncertain.

“No, it’s a great time I was just, um, out on a run. With my dog. Buddy. Just came back, so, that’s why I sound out of breath,” I chuckled nervously.

Why did I tell him I went out for a run? I’m not athletic. God, this is so bad.

“Oh,” he said, “that’s nice. It’s a good day for a run, I suppose.” 

“Yeah, I run all the time,” I lied. “You know, from my problems and stuff. I just decided to switch it up today,” I added dumbly. 

I got a laugh from him and I smiled as he said, “That’s a good one.”

“Thanks,” I replied, “sooo…what’s up?” I got up from my bed and walked around my room.

“Oh, um, I was just calling back to apologize for earlier. I got caught up with the Stark internship,” he explained.

Right. The “Stark internship.” Time to investigate.

How is that, by the way?” I asked, “the internship, I mean.”

“Th- the internship? Oh, it’s, uh, great! Keeps me real busy,” he stumbled.

“I could only imagine, I mean, it’s run by Tony Stark -Iron Man himself, right?” I prodded.

“Ye-yeah, Mr. Stark is great. I don’t see him directly, too often, but, he’s definitely great from the few times that I met him,” he said, sounding nervous.

“What does he have you do?” I asked innocently.

“He has us do lot’s of paper work, you know, the boring stuff,” he said. “It’s not that interesting if I’m being honest, you wouldn’t wanna hear about it.”

“Try me,” I said smirking. 

“Um, well, some of the paper work is classified so I can’t exactly talk about it,” he explained.

Damn it, he got me there.

“Ah, well, that’s okay,” I said, quickly thinking of something else to ask. “Have you met any of the other Avengers while you were there? Like, that new one, the Spider-Man guy?” I asked, anxiously waiting to hear his answer.

“Spider-Man? Um, yeah, we’ve met. A few times,” he said, sounding unsure of himself.

“I bet he’s so cool in real life, huh?” I asked.

“Yeah, he’s pretty awesome. I mean he single-handily took down a villain who used high-tech alien weapons, so, I’d say he’s cool,” Peter said, sounding cocky.

“I heard he has a weird voice though, is that true?” I lied.

“Wh- what? No! He doesn’t have a weird voice, where’d you hear that?” he exclaimed, his voice rising.

I bit my lip to hide my smile, “Oh, you know, here and there.” I picked at my nails and then said, “People talk.”

“You don’t seriously believe he has a weird voice, do you?” he asked.

“Mm, I don’t know. Maybe. I also heard he was rude to some people who wanted a picture of him,” I said, making up things as I went.

“What!” he exclaimed, his voice rising a pitch higher. He cleared his throat then said, “That never happened.”

“Yeah,” I exclaimed, “shot a web at the camera, and everything!”

Peter scoffed, “I don’t think Spider-Man would do that.”

“Who knows,” I added, “it’s not like we actually know him right? He could be a total asshole in real life for all I know.” 

“He could be,” Peter reluctantly said. “But I, I think he’s an okay guy. Maybe you’ll get to meet him and see for yourself?”

“That’d be sick, but, I highly doubt it,” I sighed, playing along.

“Who knows, right?” Peter mused. “I think you could find him around Queens or something doing superhero stuff.”

Or at the library studying for a Spanish quiz, I mentally added.

I chuckled slightly, “People don’t just run into superheroes, Peter.”

“Keep an open mind, Y/N,” Peter chuckled. “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?”

Peter caught me off guard with his sudden change in topic, “Um, nothing much? I was going to return a book to the library and then just chill or something.”

“The one on 21st?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, not really sure why he was suddenly interested in this. 

Maybe he’s purposely changing the subject away from Spider-Man.

“Cool, how about, we meet there? Tomorrow? At noon? We can exchange phones then,” he offered.

“Oh, right, yeah,” I said, forgetting we had to actually plan a meet up. “Works for me,” I confirmed.

“And, uh, I didn’t look through your stuff, if you’re wondering,” he chuckled.

“Me either, if you were wondering, as well,” I said, swallowing my guilt.

I am a terrible human.

“But you did get a text from MJ,” Peter said, “not that I purposely read it -I mean -I couldn’t help it, it just popped up, you know?”

“That’s okay Peter, I don’t mind.” I said, feeling even worse.

I can’t keep lying to him

“Um, something did happen though,” I said, wincing.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“With your phone,” I hesitantly said. 

“Something happened to my phone?” Peter asked.

Should I just come clean? I still have time to back out.

“My brother…” I started, “dropped it. I asked him to hand it to me, but I didn’t have…good reflexes. And I’m really sorry.”

Not a total lie? I do have bad reflexes…

“Oh,” Peter sighed, “that’s okay, I don’t mind a scratch or two.”

Oh my god -I am a terrible person. How can I just lie to Peter like this?

“Yeah, I just felt really terrible about it, I thought you should know,” I said, closing my eyes at how dumb I was. 

“Y/N, it’s totally fine! Don’t worry about it, really, I’m okay with it,” he said reassuringly.

I hate you Peter Parker, you good human being you. Oh, who am I kidding, I hate myself.

I sighed, “Actually, it’s not fine. I need to tell you something else.”

“What is it?” he asked.

Right as I was about to confess my sin, the phone started to vibrate. I took it away from my ear and saw that I, or Peter, was getting a call from an unknown number.

“Um, hold on, you’re getting a call from an unknown number, I’ll just answer it real quick and see who it is,” I said, thinking nothing of it. Vaguely hearing Peter protest, it was too late as I hit the green button. Not getting a chance to even say “hello,” there was a man’s voice already talking.

“Yo, spiderling, I made some minor upgrades to the prototype suit I’ve been working on. You don’t need to thank me right away, but I do believe some praise is due,” he said. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Oh my god, it’s Tony Stark.

“Kid?” he asked after hearing my lack of reply.

“Um, Peter’s not here right now,” I said, weakly.

The line went quiet for a few seconds until I heard, “I’m sorry, and, who’s this?”

“Peter’s,” I paused, thinking, “friend.”

Can I even call myself that?

“Well. You can disregard this whole phone call. But. Where exactly is Peter?” Tony asked.

“Um, home? We switched phones by mistake,” I explained. 

“Great, and seriously, ignore this phone call. It never happened,” he said, before cutting off the call.

I kept the phone pressed against my ear, stunned at what just happened.

Peter really is Spider-Man. This just confirmed everything.

“Hello? Y/N? Are you there? Did you answer the call?” Peter asked, sounding worried.

I cleared my throat before responding, “Um, yeah, I’m here.”

Peter stayed quiet and then tried to casually ask, “So, um, who was it?”

“It was…” I hesitantly said, “Tony Stark.”

“Oh, Mr. Stark called me?” he nervously laughed, “that’s weird. Why would Mr. Stark call me at this hour? What did he, uh, what did he say?”

“Actually Peter, I have to go right now, but, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, okay?” I sighed. I just really needed to sleep; too much had happened today for me to process.

“Really? Do you have to go right now? We can stay up and talk some more? I mean, it’s Friday, I’m not too busy,” Peter said, trying to stay on the line.

“I’m really sorry Peter,” I whispered, feeling overwhelmed with guilt. “I’ll explain everything tomorrow, I promise.”

“Um, yeah, okay. No big deal,” he said, trying to sound cool about it. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah,” I said, “tomorrow.”

I heard Peter say goodbye and then I hung up.

I couldn’t stand to hear his voice anymore. Under different circumstances, I would love nothing more than to hear Peter talk all day, but right now, I was lying to this sweet, dorky guy who didn’t deserve this. I clutched the phone to my chest and closed my eyes.

“What have I done,” I whispered.

I woke up the next morning, dreading what was to come. I had to face Peter and I was not mentally prepared to do that.

Looking in the mirror as I applied my mascara, I hated my reflection. I mean I looked good, but, I hated my inner self right now. I hate that I invaded Peter’s privacy and found out something that I shouldn’t have. Now I have to go and explain what an awful person I am to my crush -who will literally hate me when he finds out what I did.

Once I was ready to leave, I grabbed my book-bag and told my dad I was heading out. 

“Call me when you get there, okay?” he reminded me.

“Yeah, I will!” I called out as I closed the front door. I made my way down the stairs of our porch and walked to the train station. I texted Peter a quick message saying I was on the way there, not looking forward to this at all.

On the train, I mindlessly looked around, waiting to get to my stop. It wasn’t until I heard a distant scream that I snapped out of my thoughts.

What the hell was that?

The rest of the passengers looked confused too, and we all looked to the right where the scream had come from. I heard two loud bangs on the car over, followed by a chorus of screams. Everyone dropped to the floor and I saw two armed men point guns at the passengers. They were yelling something, but it was muffled due to the distance. Everyone in this passenger car dropped to the floor as well, and with shaky hands, I did too.

Oh my god, please tell me this isn’t really happening. What do I do?

My hands immediately went to my phone, ready to call 911, or even say goodbye to my family when I realized that there was an alternative option. 


I hastily pulled out Peter’s phone, trying to unlock it with my trembling fingers. I managed to dial my number, and held the phone up to my ear. I anxiously waited and kept looking up to make sure the gun men didn’t see me or walk in here yet. This was the car at the end of the train, so hopefully they won’t get here so soon.

“Hey Y/N!” Peter happily chirped, “I saw your text, don’t worry, I’m on my way-”

I cut off Peter, whispering, “Peter, help me, please.”

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” he asked, sounding worried.

“I- I’m on the train that’s heading to 21st street. It’s, it’s Train B. We’re -there’s, there’s some guys -” I was cut off by a huge screech. Someone hit the emergency stop on the train and we all got tossed to the left. The phone skidded out of my hands and I whispered, “Shit, shit, shit,” I crawled towards it, realizing I had to move fast.

“What was that? What’s going on?” Peter said, sounding out of breath. I think he was running. “Y/N? Are you there, are you alright? Talk to me, Y/N, please.”

“They stopped the train,” I whispered, looking around. “And they have guns.”

“I’m on my way, don’t hang up okay, just, keep talking to me. Tell me everything you see, everything you can, I’ll get some help, I promise,” he said, in an assertive voice. 

“I’m so sorry Peter,” I rambled nervously, “I am so so sorry. I, I saw the video.”

If I’m going to die, I want to tell Peter the truth.

“Why do you keep saying sorry? What video?” Peter breathed as I heard rustling in the background.

“The video on your phone about going to Berlin. I know Peter, I just, I know,” I sighed. I heard another bang and flinched. With a trembling voice, I whispered softly, “I’m sorry.” I closed my eyes and tried to maintain calm.

I’m going to die here

“None of that matters anymore -I don’t care about that right now, okay Y/N? It doesn’t matter, I forgive you. Just, keep talking. Stay on the line. Tell me what you see, it’ll be okay, I’m on my way to you,” he replied.

I took a deep breath, composing myself. “Okay,” I sighed, leaning up to see the train car next door. “They’re lining people up against one side of the train. There’s two of them in there, there could be more, I don’t, I don’t know,” I numbly said.

“You’re doing great, just keep talking. I’m almost there,” he said.

I saw one of the men look towards our car and head to the door that separated us. “Fuck, fuck, no no no,” I said, starting to panic even more.

“What? What is it?” Peter exclaimed.

“He’s coming, I don’t know if i can keep talking Peter,” I whispered, “I’m not going to hang up but please hurry.” 

I couldn’t hear Peter’s reply as I shoved the phone in my jean jacket’s pocket. The man barged in and yelled, “Everyone move to this side and stay down!”

He motioned us to move against the opposite side, and people did so, whimpering in fear. I took deep breaths and did as we were told. I looked around at the other passengers and saw that there was children with their mothers, hiding their cries. There were also kids my age, and even some elderly people. 

I don’t want any of them to die

For the most part, it seemed like we all mutually agreed to do what the man said -there were no protests from any of the passengers. There was, however, an older woman who was crying and mumbling prayers in Spanish on her knees.

“You!” the man harshly yelled, aiming the gun at the woman. “Shut the fuck up and get down.”

She merely closed her eyes tighter, and kept praying, tears slipping down her face.

Lady please just do what he says, I mentally pleaded.

She remained unmoved, and I whispered to myself, “C’mon lady.”

The fact that she didn’t submit irritated the man, so he yelled at her, “Did you fucking hear me?” He stalked closer to her.

I sighed to myself and quietly muttered, “Don’t do it Y/N, don’t do it. Don’t do anything stupid, just mind your own business.”

The gun man, seemingly impatient, only got angrier at her lack of compliance. He aimed the gun at her head, ready to pull the trigger, and yelled, “You have three seconds before I-”

“No, wait!” I cried out, before I could stop myself. 

Too late

I sat up on my knees and raised my hands in surrender when he aimed the gun at me instead. Swallowing my fear, I pleaded, starting to stand, “Don’t shoot her, please, she’s just -she’s just praying.”

I stared at the barrel of the gun, physically frozen in fear. I couldn’t move, but I had a million thoughts running through my mind. 

“I don’t give a shit what she’s doing kid. Tell her to stop, or I’ll put a bullet through both of your heads,” he angrily muttered, not once taking his aim off of me. 

I swallowed thickly and with a trembling voice, I quietly replied, “I’m, I’m not that good at Spanish, sir.”

“What did you say?” he spat at me, stepping closer.

I held back a whimper and repeated myself, “I-I can’t tell her to stop, I, I don’t know much Spanish.”

Glaring at me, he pressed the barrel of the gun against my forehead, “Listen here you little bi-”

I closed my eyes tightly, and held my breath. 

This is it. This is how I die. I just had to open my stupid mouth-

My thoughts were cut off when I heard a huge crash, and glass breaking from behind me. I visibly flinched, and reacted by dropping to the floor, covering my head in the process. I stayed crouched down, quickly moving out of the way and could hear gun shots. They weren’t aimed at me, however, they were being aimed at something behind me.

“Hey buddy! You made me miss my train!” I heard a voice shout.

Sneaking a glance, I saw that the man was now fighting Spider-Man, trying to shoot him. At each gun shot, I flinched, but was relieved when Spider-Man managed to kick it out of his hands. Spider-Man somehow dodged every hit, saying witty comments that I couldn’t focus on, and knocked the gun man out cold. He didn’t have much time to relax because two more guys ran in here to fight him as well. Now ignoring the passengers, the men were focused solely on Spider-Man. The people on the train screamed, and scrambled to get to the other car seeing that the gun men were all in this one instead. I tried to follow them, but with everyone pushing to get to the front, I was left at the very back -along with the old woman. She didn’t have the strength to shove people out of the way, so I led her in front of me, gently encouraging her. I turned back to see Spider-Man shoot a web at one of the guys, and roughly pulled it towards him. The guy’s body made contact with the steel pole in the middle of the train, and with a final grunt, he was down. 


I turned my attention back to the old woman, and saw that we both made it through the doors. Seeing as I was the last person in, I hastily went to close the doors. People kept moving up the train, determined to put as much distance between themselves and the fight. I followed the crowd, looking back whenever I could to make sure that Spider-Man was alright. I saw him webbing up the gun men, and stopped walking before I made it to the other car. I turned to see the passengers, and they kept going forward, but I slowly broke from the crowd and headed back to where Spider-Man was. With my ears ringing, and my heart rate racing, I tried to stay focused on the red and blue figure who was tying up the gun men to the pole. I opened the doors, and he turned to look at the source of the noise. 

“Peter?” I whispered.

He stopped what he was doing and breathed, “Y/N.” He ran up to me and hugged me tightly.

My eyes watered, and I closed them, letting out a shaky laugh, “Oh my god. Peter.” I wrapped my arms around him and tried to calm down.

“Are you okay? You’re shaking,” he said, pulling back. “That was a dumb question, of course you’re not okay, but you’re fine, right? They didn’t hurt you?” 

“I’m, I’m okay. I think. Physically okay, at least,” I rambled nervously. “Can you just take me home, please?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said guiding me out of the train. We left through the end of the train where Peter crashed in, and he helped me step over the glass, holding my hand to help keep me up. “Can you walk? I don’t think you should walk, here, hold on,” he said, picking me up bridal style instead. 

I gasped in surprise, not used to the feeling of being carried in such an intimate way. Again, in any other circumstance, I would enjoy this -but I was still in shock. I heard police sirens in the distance and realized that it was all going to be okay. I was safe. Those children were safe. That old lady was safe. Peter was safe.

Peter continued to carry me until we made it out of the station, and I hid my face in his chest; I focused on his heart beat and tried to calm my own breathing to match his. The whole way, Peter whispered reassuringly to me, and it helped me feel better. He told me to hang on tight, so I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on tighter. Gasping slightly, I could feel that we were no longer on the ground. I could feel the wind whip around me; it almost felt like I was on a roller coaster with a lot of sudden drops. I closed my eyes, waiting for us to land on solid ground. 

When we did, Peter said softly, “You can open your eyes now.”

I slowly did so and looked around to see where we were. I was definitely not at my house, but it was a nice view. “Where are we?” I asked. It looked like were on some rooftop that overlooked Queens.

“I know you wanted me to take you home, but, I thought we should talk a little before I take you back,” he said, adjusting his grip.

“You can put me down now,” I whispered, looking at the eyes of his mask.

He cleared his throat, “Are you sure? You okay to stand?” 

“I think so,” I replied.

He let me down gently, and I swayed a bit to the side, my legs almost giving way.

“Whoah, okay there Bambi, let’s just have you take a seat over here okay?” he slightly chuckled, guiding me to a spot on the floor.

“That was my first time flying first class, so I’m a bit shaky,” I tried joking.

He let out a breathy laugh, but then got quiet. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m not holding anything up,” I said, taking his question literally so that I could avoid giving a serious answer. I looked up to him and saw that he wasn’t amused, so I sighed. “I thought being pointed at with a gun was scary enough, but then,” I paused, “then he just pressed it against me and I, I couldn’t move -I couldn’t breathe. He was going to shoot me. I know he was. I was about to die if you didn-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Peter whispered, “you weren’t going to die, I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

“But, I was!” I exclaimed, my voice rising, “I was going to die, Peter! If you didn’t answer the phone I…” I looked away, no longer able to stare at his emotionless mask. As if he noticed this, he slipped it off. 

“Y/N,” he said gently.

I kept looking ahead, clenching my jaw to keep my lips from trembling.

“Y/N, look at me,” he said. When I turned to look at him his eyes were hard but determined. He continued, “I wasn’t going to let you die; I wasn’t going to let him hurt you. I’ll never let that happen if I can help it. I know it was scary, but you’re safe now; you’re alive. What matters is that I answered and that I made it on time.”

I nodded my head, and let out a shaky laugh that turned into a cry, finally losing my demeanor. Peter immediately reacted by side-hugging me, rubbing his hand up and down my arm. I sniffled and let a few tears fall, and Peter just held me, whispering sweet-nothings. He tucked my head under his chin and ran his fingers down my hair in a comforting manner.

After a few minutes, when I composed myself, I pulled away. “Thank you, Peter. I’ll never be able to repay you.”

“Yes you will,” he said, looking at me. I looked up at him and waited for him to continue. “Just stay alive, and out of harms way, okay?” he chuckled.

I smiled softly and said, “Okay.”

“And if not, I’ll come and save you anyway,” he said nonchalantly.

I slightly chuckled, but got quiet when I started to think. 

Breaking the silence, Peter said, “You know, I heard you stand up for that lady on the train.”

“You heard that?” I asked.

“I didn’t hang up right away,” he shrugged. “By the way, I still have your phone. It’s in my backpack on the side of a dumpster though.”

I furrowed my brows in confusion. Noticing my expression he quickly added “Don’t worry, it’s not trash day today. Not making that mistake again,” mumbling the last part to himself.

I patted my pocket, and felt the outline of Peter’s phone. I pulled it out and handed it to him. “I’m sorry I saw your video, Peter. I didn’t mean to invade. I thought just one video wouldn’t hurt anyone.” I looked away ashamed.

Peter looked at his phone, and smiled, “I’m glad you saw it. If you didn’t find out, then I wouldn’t have gotten to those people on time -including you. Just, promise me you won’t tell anyone. No one else can find out and I don’t think you’re the type of person to go around-”

I cut him off, “I swear.” I smiled at him, glad he didn’t hate me. He gave me a soft smile, but then looked embarrassed at what he was going to say next.

“And if we’re going to be honest, I, uh, I looked at some of your photos,” he sheepishly admitted.

“What!” I squeaked, horrified. 

Peter’s eyes widened at my outburst, “Y- you did it too!”

“No, no I didn’t! I just saw one video, I didn’t see anything else!” I defended myself.

“It was, it was just a selfie or two that I saw anyway. They were cute,” he mumbled, blushing. “And some pictures of your dog. Those were cute too.”

My ears got hot, and I could only imagine how red my face was. “Um, yeah, okay. Whatever,” I tried laughing it off. I tucked my hair behind my ear and looked away, hiding my smile. 

He thinks I’m cute?

“You don’t have a weird voice by the way; I was just messing with you last night. I like your voice; it’s actually really nice,” I admitted, still not meeting his eyes.

Peter stuttered a bit and said, “Th-thanks.” Then he cleared his throat. “You have a really cute,” he paused, “smi…dog”

I looked at him and laughed, “What?”

“I,” he said, fumbling a bit, “Buddy. He’s really cute.” 

“Thanks?” I replied, uncertain, giggling anyway. “Your film was really cute. I’d give it a solid three stars,” I teased, bumping his shoulder.

Three stars?” he exclaimed, laughing back. 

“The whole, ‘stealing Captain America’s shield’ was just unbelievable to me,” I joked.

Peter scoffed then chuckled, “Well, it totally happened. And it was bad-ass.”

I grinned and looked at Peter. He looked down at me and we sort of stared into each other’s eyes until he glanced down at my lips.

If I’m not wrong, I know what comes next.

His phone rang.

We both snapped out of it, and I looked away awkwardly. 

“Uh, I should, I should probably take this,” he said, motioning to the phone. I merely nodded, and he stood up to go answer it and talk to whoever was on the other line.

I took a deep breath and bit my lip to keep from smiling so big.

Was he really about to kiss me? Does Peter Parker like me back?

“Aunt May was just checking in on me since she saw the train incident on the news,” he explained, walking back to me.

My eyes widened when I realized I didn’t call my dad. “Um, can I make a quick call? My dad’s gunna kill me,” I said, standing up.

Peter nodded, handing me the phone, and I quickly called my dad. I told him I missed the train and decided to come home when I heard what happened so he wouldn’t worry about me. Otherwise, he’d never let me leave the house. I’d probably be home-schooled. When I hung up, Peter had put his mask back on.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I smiled.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” I said, once Peter landed on the ground again -just a few houses down from mine.

I had my arms wrapped around his neck, basically hugging him instead of having him carry me this time. He slowly set me down, but neither of us completely let go of each other. It just looked like I was hugging Spider-Man in the middle of the street -just another typical Saturday afternoon. This was a quiet neighborhood though, so no one was around to see this.

“It sure beats traffic though,” he said.

I smiled and said, “Oh yeah, definitely.” I dropped my hands from his neck and let them sit on his chest instead.= while his rested on the small of my back. “You gotta tell me how this happened though.”

“I can explain everything to you later. I think I’m getting better at telling the story,” he chuckled.

“Who else knows?” I asked. “I figured I was the only one who uncovered your deep, dark secret.”

“Ned found out by accident first. Then my aunt May -that was also an accident.” he explained.

“I think there’s a pattern going on here,” I teased.

“Yeah, I gotta get better at hiding this,” he admitted. He finally made the first move to pull away, much to my dismay. He pulled out his phone from his belt and handed it to me. “Here.”

I just looked at it and then back to him, “What?”

“Hold onto it until I can give you your phone back,” he said, putting it in my hand, “that way I have a reason to come back to you.” 

I tried to hide my smile, but horribly failed. “I can give you another reason,” I said confidently. 

I reached up to pull his mask up slightly, but stopped half way. His hands met mine, and he asked, “Uh, what are you doi-”

But I cut him off by leaning up and gently pressing my lips against his. Peter was shocked at first, but then he responded. It was short, but it still felt amazing. After I pulled away, I could see that Peter was left a stumbling mess.

“Um, I, uh, that’s a really good reason to come back, like, really good,” he mumbled.

I blushed the whole time, but smiled anyway, “Yeah, I, uh, think it was really good too.” I started walking backwards, “I have to, um, go, over there.” I pointed to my house, clearing my throat.

Peter pulled down his mask and said, “And I have to go to, the um, dumpster. I need to get my stuff back.”  

We both chuckled nervously and I called out, “Bye Spider-Man!”

He yelled back, “Goodbye citizen!” before swinging away.

After saying our goodbyes, we went our separate ways. Once I got to my front door, I bit my lip and smiled just reliving the moment. I walked to my room, greeting my dad in the process, and fell onto my bed. My hands went up to my lips and I sighed in content.

I just kissed Peter Parker.

A/N: part 3? 

tags: @whormotional @multifandom-slytherin @harrysbbby @karenhbhg @thegirlwiththeimpala @i-survived-my-trip-to-nyc @dont-rain-on-my-fandom @totallyrandomfandomfangirl @beforethebraces @apollos-love @hufflepeople @queen-zpidey

Crestwood Analysis: Sad Lavellans, Angry Lavellans, and Solas’s Cowardice

I wanted to write about the different break-up options in Crestwood and how, at least for me, the differences play out emotionally in the aftermath, based on whether you choose the Sad (“I love you”) or Angry (“Don’t do this to me”) options. I’ve never played or headcanoned the third and, honestly, one truly hopeful option before (“I believe in us”) and so have less to say about that, but I would be interested if anyone can offer their perspective per the Hopeful option, ie: such a generous response to such a cowardly act. My Lavellans have both been too brash and too young for that kind of immediate sense of perspective. Note that this is not an argument in favor of any one response, just my own personal reading of how emotional dynamics play out differently between Solas and Lavellan post-Crestwood, based on the different responses I’ve chosen in the past. Also, sorry for the length of this post. I tried to shorten it, but it just kept getting longer, so…yeah. I threw it all in. Reckless abandon!

I am not sure what the most popular option has been in Crestwood. There’s no way to know. For me, with my first Lavellan, I went full Sad. This is because it felt tragically romantic, like when Angel breaks up with Buffy in season three, or when Edward breaks up with Bella in New Moon. I am a sap and a masochist that way. But for whatever reason, I had a really hard time with this option, especially in the aftermath. It seemed strangely contradictory to me, that she could be so upset, so blindsided, so terrified of losing him, and yet he merely is apologizing for “distracting [her] from [her] duty.” At this point, duty distractions, to me, seemed irrelevant, or another matter entirely. Filling in the blanks here, ie: between the balcony kiss and this—this immense sadness on her part, plus his cold response to said sadness—was difficult for me.

Of course, it hurt like hell in the moment. Obviously. I made a Tumblr. But for whatever reason, afterward, I had a really hard time headcanoning this one, ie: resolving all the weird, dissonant emotional chords that seemed to be going on at once in the scene, and then reconciling them with what happens later on. If they are as in love as Lavellan’s reaction suggests, why did he think merely referring to himself as a “distraction” would be enough to definitively break things off? Is he seriously that cold? Maybe. Perhaps he has to force himself to be this cold simply in order to deal with the situation. Eep. Dark. Still, I thought she would have more questions, ie: Why are you being so cold? What are you talking about, my “duty,” you’ve never cared before? I also found it hard to envision their relationship after Crestwood. I mean, unless you play it otherwise, there’s a bit of time still before the final battle with Corypheus. How did she stay away from him? Did he have to turn her away again and again? She was just so hurt in Crestwood, so confused. How could she not at least try and understand? And after the final battle, how is she so composed, speaking to Solas calmly and with what seemed to be a great deal of perspective, or at least acceptance? Perhaps others could, but I couldn’t make sense of this.

Once I got to Trespasser with my first Lavellan, I then couldn’t reconcile her desperation in Crestwood with her casual demeanor in the beginning at the Winter Palace. It seemed like she would have spent the previous two years searching for Solas frantically, and then wondering if, perhaps, he might somehow be there, at the Exalted Council (like actually be there—not throwing Qunari through eluvians and baiting her with blood trails). She was too beholden in this playthrough, and I couldn’t figure out how she could be both the calm, cool Inquisitor joking with Varric and talking marriage with Cassandra, and also be Solas’s frantic ex-girlfriend at the same time. Then, in the end, that she didn’t immediately jump into his arms when she saw him for the first time in two years felt like a major flaw. I needed her to need him more, and I was getting none of it from the game. Partially, this is an issue of the writing, but also, because I’m sort of like this emotional canon purist (ie: emotional dimensions outside of the game must resolve as they do in the game—I need it to be real), it all just ended up feeling a little bit meh. So, naturally, I started over. From the beginning. New Lavellan. I needed to get it right.

Okay, so the other night, with my new Lavellan, who I’ve been playing amidst droves of fanfic and hours of headcanon daydreams, I realized in that moment, in Crestwood, that the only possible response to his cowardly behavior seemed to be incredulity and anger. After everything they’d been through? This is how he ends it? Unbelievable. Her aggressive, physical response—shoving him, yelling, calling him a “cold-hearted son of a bitch”—felt so true in the moment. I sort of lost my breath a little bit. For some reason, the level of cowardice in his behavior (and it is—it is cowardly) seems to be compounded (or negated) by her response. If she responds by begging him to stay, telling him she loves him, this lowers the effect of his cowardice in general, because all the focus is on her emotional response to his behavior rather than the behavior itself. The cowardice has little effect on her. She seems to care less about whether what he’s doing is cowardly. She cares only that it’s happening at all. This response seems based in an unconditional fear of losing him. But if she responds by aggressively pushing him, demanding that he tell her he doesn’t care (which he can’t do, and she knows it), essentially calling him out on his cowardice, this highlights the motive behind his action rather than just the action itself. This, to me, makes his default reasoning of “duty distraction” to feel like just a cover now, ie: the first thing he could think of to say in his moment of bumbling cowardice.

The dialogue choice for the angry response reads, “Don’t do this to me!” It is the one response where the focus is on her. It is also the only response in which Lavellan walks away from Solas. The other two responses are focused on him or them (“I love you”/”I believe in us”). In both of these options, Solas walks away from Lavellan. I am tempted to draw a connection back to my earlier claims in another piece about their sexual/emotional dynamic, ie: with an angry response, this is the only time that Lavellan can be seen pulling away or walking away from Solas. It is otherwise always the other way around.

When Solas is able to walk away in the end, it makes the entire affair seem colder, and much more in stone, even as if he’d prepared himself for the coming of this very moment. But in the angry break-up, he seems completely taken off guard, especially by her response, which is physical and bitter, ie: “Tell me you don’t care.” Another dare. What she sees: He is brave enough to break up with her, but not brave enough to tell her why? I like this Lavellan, because, like in previous scenes, she is sort of putting the ball in Solas’s court. In the Fade and on the balcony, however, this has reminded Solas that he holds the power, which empowers him to continue the exchange (ie: to kiss her). But here, in Crestwood, even with the ball in his court, Solas has no way of responding. He cannot tell her the truth, but he also cannot bring himself to lie about his feelings. All he can do is take her abuse, stand there, and apologize as she walks away. He has fully lost control now—finally, and it is because of this that he is forced to reckon with his cowardice. This was powerful for me. I also knew that “cold-hearted” comment bit him. Solas is much more of a Romantic Hero during this option—far more self-hating and emotionally distraught than he was in my initial playthrough.

Because when she’s pleading for him and telling him she loves him during the sad breakup, his response is to put up his hands, to ward her off coldly, to say “I can’t. I’m sorry,” and then just walk away, leaving her there. Again at his mercy. I think my Lavellan, this time around, was a little bit sick of being “at his mercy.” She wanted more. Plus, his reaction in the sad break-up, his behavior is so cold, and so is his ability to walk away: it makes him seem more secure in the fact, if not relieved, that it is finally over—even if he’s hurt, it is held back.

I also feel that, during the angry break up scenario, his decision to break up with her does actually feel sort of believably spontaneous and cowardly and regrettable. Like, he really was gonna tell her the truth about the whole Fen’Harel thing, but he chickened out, and then the vallaslin removal was like this great, unfixable mistake, and he just legitimately realized he had lost all control of his feelings, the situation, and the relationship at large. He cannot walk away. How could he? He has no idea what’s just happened. Solas is so rarely caught by true surprise. Especially after watching him just like, own the Iron Bull in a game of head-chess entirely in banter the other day, I’m not sure he knows how to deal with even one small, legitimate moment of spontaneous indecision. Certainly not a stalemate. Because you cannot plan ahead for those. And he is prideful, and a martyr, so when caught off guard, of course he defaults to the mission, and he bails on anything so unpredictable and unwieldy as love.

Oddly enough, I’d argue that Lavellan’s angry response forces Solas to actually confront the reality of their relationship, while a sad response immediately hardens him to the situation. To avoid her tears, he must effectively switch off his humanity. He backs off, on guard. However, he lets her anger in, because he feels he deserves it. This, to me, is a good thing. Any time you can get Solas to feel, that is a good thing.

Once she’s gone, I picture Solas just like, dropping to his knees, realizing what he’s done, and, based on her reaction, terrified that there will be no going back. In the sad break-up scene, it seems like he still has an out to change his mind—if he wants to. Her reaction leaves him in control. But in the angry break-up, she is in control in the aftermath. There may be no going back, no fixing this mistake. Fen’Harel is obsessed with fixing his own mistakes. So he disappears, takes two years to suppress his feelings for her, because he has no choice, and, whether mistaken or not, doubles down on the plans he abandoned her for in the first place. Then, when he sees her again, and she is still open to him and his redemption, even somewhat forgiving, despite a modicum of, not resignation, but reason, it’s all the more hurtful. He falls so easily back into old tropes in Trespasser when he calls her vhenan, suggesting that their relationship has permeated him subconsciously, that it won’t die easy, won’t die at all. Their reunion is powerful then as, in his own very familiar, noncommittal way, he comes back around at the end (as he always does), calls her his “love,” tells her he will never forget her, takes the anchor, and, per his duty (and his nature), leaves. Again. WHY, SOLAS?

The angry break-up sets Solas up a bit differently in the immediate aftermath as well, I think, at Skyhold, ie: he’s in the wrong, and he knows it. Meanwhile, Lavellan’s anger sets her up for all of these wild reactions and methods for coping, doing just about anything to get him the hell out of her head so she can, as she puts it in the scene, “move on.”  This is very much my own headcanon, but I picture her like, heading out with the Iron Bull to anger-slay some dragons the very next day. Maybe she’ll bring Solas, too, but on the condition that he is a “powerful rift mage” and that she needs his magic if she wants to succeed. She still loves him, but in her defeat, she, like him, has grown too proud to relent. Though it hurts her, she treats Solas as a tool, a means to an end, which, considering Solas’s motives for joining the Inquisition in the first place, is ironic. And hey, I’m just trying to build a story here. I like irony.

Of course, I am still a deep romantic, and so I know that all of this is just reactive. Lavellan still loves Solas, but she is actively upset with him, searching out a way to reconcile her anger at his inexplicable cowardice and her own (apparently) unconditional love for him. Their interactions at Skyhold, as I see them, are often extended and bitter on her part, as she, starving, will do anything to draw any sort of emotional response from him at all. He, meanwhile, shows only self-loathing, taking her abuse, while trying to search out her true feelings without showing his hand. He calls her “Inquisitor” out of guilt and deference and speaks only of their final fight. It is hard for him. She may not refer to him at all, trying to get a rise out of his “cold heart.” At times, she may be downright mean, but he believes he deserves it, so just like in Crestwood, he is defeated and hard-pressed to defend himself—

Lavellan: You really don’t let anybody see under that polite mask you wear, do you?

Solas: You saw more than most.

Then, by the time it’s the end of the game, and they defeat Coryphy-tit, and the orb is shattered, Lavellan’s expression, her composure, will make sense in ways it did not when I played the sad break-up. Solas confession then (”No matter what comes, I want you to know that what we had was real.”) almost reads like one more apology. It is quasi-closure. I mean, at least until you get to the end of Trespasser. After the sad break-up, I couldn’t understand her composure in this moment at the end of the main campaign. But somehow, the fact that she became angry provided her with an immediate outlet, catharsis, a way to process, and now, Lavellan can see that, no matter what, they’ve been through a great deal together, and in the end, being so angry seems foolish, even silly. Perspective begins to set in, making everything even sadder and more hopeless than it was before, but also setting up the next two years as a time in which Lavellan at least attempts to get over Solas (even if unsuccessfully), rather than spend so much time and energy searching for him.

Solas: I suspect you have questions.

I mean, you think?

The end of Trespasser is so very sad. Lost elf, come home. I haven’t gotten there yet in this playthrough, but I hope to fully understand her initial subdued response now. She had hardened herself for so long in her attempt to move on. But the more they talk about their relationship (”And so he did.”), the more she softens to him, lets him in again, remembers. Just as quickly as he falls into the old routine, so does she. At this point, the term vhenan is so loaded–a single utterance conjures a world of joyous and painful memories. He still loves her, and she loves him, but the complications are…dire. We shall see what happens.

Anyway, this is just one way to read the different Lavellan responses at Crestwood, and I would be interested in knowing how other people read their Lavellan’s response in the end. I love hearing how others have managed to reconcile their internal stories with the (often downright sparse but immensely tantalizing) material we get in the game.This is just mine.

Now scuse me while I go watch this and cry hysterically. <3

About the Lion switch

Season 4 provided some new material up for consideration in context of the lion switch and after sitting on this for a while, I decided to try and organize my thoughts about it. I’m going to first focus on individual characters and then go more into the situation of the team overall.

Starting with the obvious one:


It’s well established that Shiro’s self-worth is currently strongly tied to his role as a Paladin. This has been analysed multiple times, so without going into detail: he is shown to find pride and purpose in being a defender of the universe and at the same time we see that he is plagued with doubt about whether he deserves the title. A seemingly very natural arc resulting from this is Shiro coming to a realisation that his worth is not dependent on him being a Paladin of Voltron - and what better way to reach that conclusion if not through finding a different purpose.

Except what purpose would that be? All other areas aside from Voltron already have other characters that belong to them in a greater capacity. The BOM is clearly tied to Keith, rebel fighters have their own structure and leadership while the important character spot is covered by Matt, and a large scale diplomatic role is something much more suited for Allura. Shiro hasn’t been built up towards any of these paths, the only thing we really see him doing while he’s not the Black Paladin is stay on the sidelines and strategize. But I admit this is an extremely broad topic warranting a separate analysis and since we’re still in the middle of the show there’s time to potentially introduce a new position.

Also a similar point can be made for an arc where Shiro accepts that he does deserve to be a Paladin and he’s not a monster, that his experiences do not make him less of a human and this is exactly what I’m hoping to see.

The primary indicator that Shiro is not only supposed to be a Paladin but the Black Paladin is his bond with the Black Lion. It was given so much focus and screentime in both S1 and S2 and him establishing that bond was an extremely important point in the plot. It’s not something that can be just thrown away now, especially after repeatedly stating the importance of the Lions choosing their pilots and all the talk about how the bonds are “mystical”. They are supposed to be special and significant and Shiro’s bond with Black was additionally shown to be strong.  

But here’s the thing - for all its strength and effort put into building it the bond was never given a chance to form without some external obstacle. First it was the fact that Zarkon still had a connection to Black (and he still might have), now it’s whatever was done to Shiro as part of Operation Kuron. The supposed culmination moment where Shiro unlocks Black’s wings and regains his bayard is immediately counteracted by him disappearing. How could Shiro realise that he’s not meant to be a Black Paladin if he never got the chance to truly settle into the position? Right now it would be less like embracing that it’s not his true calling and more like giving in to the huge neon sign put up by the universe “Get out of the Lion”. It’s not positive progress.  And the conclusion of this should be finally overcoming all obstacles and fully bonding with his Lion and that’s something difficult to back out of  without it feeling inadequate.

Another point is something that was brought up by others – we never see Shiro use the black bayard in S4. After it was given so much attention in previous seasons, after showing Shiro do the nearly impossible to get it back – it just disappeared. Keith repeatedly stressed that the bayard belongs to Shiro and yet we never saw him give it back, even though he must have. After all that buildup Shiro using his bayard would be a very important moment and I’m willing to believe it’s purposefully delayed until Shiro is fine again (by which I mean until Operation Kuron is resolved). And the perfect moment for Shiro to see what form the bayard takes for him would be when he fully embraces his role as Black Paladin again.

Keith, Allura and Voltron in general under the cut because this got long.

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Sleepy Kisses

Fandom: The Hobbit 

Pairing: Bard the Bowman x Female!Reader


Word Count: 4470 I honestly have no idea what happen im sorry

Warnings: Smut, fluff and tickles :)

Notes: To the anon that requested this, I really do hope you enjoy it. <3 I know it’s not exactly what you asked for, but hopefully it’s just as cute as you imagined it would be? I’m also sorry about the length, I think this is the longest one shot I’ve written in a looong time only because it’s my first smut bard fic. I have to admit, that I did get a bit carried away, haha. But I hope that you and everyone else who happen to reads this enjoy it even just a little. <3

Also, if y'all have the time to, I would love to hear what you thought about this! You definitely don’t have to, I’m thankful if you just read it. But it’ll let me know how I’m doing, and it makes me feel all fluffy inside. ^-^

Please and thank you! Now enjoy~ <3

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Hello! I was tagged to do this by @catastrophicallyinlovewithbooks @paperbacktrash @christina-dh @highladyofnorta @dorianthekinkymf@escapingtheconstrictingboxes @2-bookmaster-2 @readinglikewildfire@wingsofanillyrian @runesandfaes @modernbookfae @deziremyacotar

I’m so sorry about all the ugh, umm, uff and like hahah. Also I’m sorry for my ramling and the length of this I just can’t shut up!! AND AT ONE POINT I STARTED TALKING IN CROATIAN I AM SORRY FOR THAT HAHA. And I said that Elain is one year older than Nesta but I meant Feyre hehe but I think you guessed what I meant

The questions are:
Name and username
Where are you from?
Pronounce the following words: Archeron, Rhysand, Cresseida, Thesan, Rhoe Galathynius, Illyrian, Manon, Abraxos, Prythian, Lucien, Ianthe, Suriel, Bryaxis, Carridwen and Nuala, Elide, Velaris, Cadre, Rowan Whitethorn, Chaol Westfall, Yrene Towers, Nehemia Ytger, Rifthold, Adarlan, Chrocan, Kaltain Rompier, Sorscha, Dorian Havilliard, Lyria, Asterion horse, Valg, Eyllwe, wyrdmarks, rowaelin, feysand
How did you find out about the books?
When did you start reading them?
Favorite character from TOG?
Favorite character from ACOTAR?
Have you read The Assassin’s Blade? Do you plan on reading the ACOTAR Novellas?
Favorite ship/s?
Read a page from your favorite book from TOG (or ACOTAR)
Which scene destroyed you the most?
If you read fanfiction, name your favorite or some of your favorites
Fave headcanons?
Favorite quote/s?
If you could choose any piece of media to readapt the Maasverse in, what would you choose? (e.g: movie(s), tv show(s), animation, a musical, videogames, etc)
Which would be your ACOTAR Court? Why?
And last but not least, say 3 unpopular opinions. Do it, go off

Most of you already posted it so idk who I should tag. I think I haven’t seen any posts by @vannserra @rhysthehighlord @cassian-the-commander @its-suriel@cassiancalore @marabarrow @acourtofwingsandruinn @aqueenpromisedand @mostlybookishthings so here you go guys if you want to do it :)

The current big hit in my books is Witch’s Court airing on Monday and Tuesday on KBS2.  This show isn’t for the light hearted. It’s a deep delve into sex crimes of all kinds and it isn’t a easy ride by an measure of the word, don’t think of Law and Order because you’re not getting a Benson like character in the way you’d think. So here we go but please   BE WARNED THERE WILL BE SOME SPOILERS & this grew out of my conversations with @banghae and will reference some of our conversations on the show. So go check out their amazing blog. 

Firstly this show is all  from the perspective of two lawyers in which the old archetype of the overly considerate female character and the suave callous male character is actually flipped. Ma Yi - Deum played by a magnificent Jung Ryeo - Won,  is a tough no nonsense type of a girl, and on first meeting her you see her as a child carrying the stigma of not having a father with jealousy as fathers are present  at her school for a show and tell on their careers. She  get’s mad at her mother who tells her and a friend that at least they have mother’s and / or grandmother’s to take care of them, yet soon her mother’s attention is diverted by a man being set free, after being convicted of sex crimes . 

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The Way You Move//Kim Yugyeom (Part 14)

Pairing: Yugeyom x Reader

Genre: Romance, Smut

Summary: @morsalinou said:
Your rrequest are open omgggg ok,…. I will try requesting simething for the first time here😅 hmm can i request a smut (🙊💕) where yugyeom sees you dancing in a competition (like hit the stage) or you dance with him you can decide (this weeks theme is love did you watch this show btw😍) and the rest is up to you! I’m so nervous omg😲😂

Author’s Note:  Sorry for the lack of updates! Also, sorry for the length of this chapter, it’s short, but only because it’s a filler chapter! Enjoy it nonetheless!

xoxo Sara

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9  -

Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Final

You saw the color drain from Yugyeom’s face before you turned around, beginning to walk back towards the door that led to the stage. Your heart broke into pieces inside of your chest, each piece stabbing you from the inside out.

“(Y/N),” You heard Yugyeom call your name softly, but before he could say another word, you were out the stage door, slamming it behind you.

You knew that your instructor was right; that all the girls fawned over Yugyeom and wanted to date him, but you never thought anyone would attempt to kiss him. Maybe it wasn’t expecting anyone to kiss him— maybe you didn’t expect him to let them kiss him.

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Vide Cor Meum Part 2

Thomas Shelby x Reader 

 Summary: What would a man do to protect his family, wealth, and business? Marry his daughter off to Birmingham’s most ambitious: Thomas Shelby. 

 Word Count: 2608 

 Warnings: Choking and what I’d consider minor physical assault. 

 A/N: I’m sorry this is so all over the place. I’m a sucker for detail, while also wanting to get the story moving. Sorry for the length! I hope you enjoy! You ran your hands over the delicate tulle bodice adorned with crystals and pearl beads. Your eyes scaling your reflection in the mirror. You hardly recognized yourself in the tulle and satin sheath dress. You traced your index along pleated pattern at your waistline. 

You wondered how long it took to tailor and just when your mother had time to fetch you a wedding dress with such little notice. You failed to remember your mother’s constant endeavor to find you a husband before you were worn and withered.

“You’ll ruin your nails.” Your mother pulled your hand away which pulled you from your daydreaming.

You nodded solemnly. You had never dreamt of your own wedding day. You figured you would grow old surrounded by family and one close niece or nephew. You would have never foreseen this travesty.

“Must I marry him?” You met stared at your mother with beseeching eyes.

Your mother’s lips were taut and she held you with a scrutinizing gaze. Her shoulders fell as a sigh blew from her mouth.

“Who do you suggest you marry?” She inquired softly with a raised brow.

You hugged yourself, “Must I marry at all?”

You looked away from her and out the stained window of the church. You had no one in mind. It would benefit you to stay close to home if you couldn’t stay at home. In that case, Elliot.

“It’s as if you fear marriage, child.” She wrapped her arm around you and held you as she looked at you in the mirror. You followed her gaze.

“You may feel like it is a cage, my dear, but you’re a (Y/L/N). A lady no less. You are the neck and you can turn the head whichever way you please.”

Something in her smile warmed you. Despite marriage being the last thing that you wanted, your mother made it less encumbering.

“Are you ready, child?” She rubbed your arms soothingly.

You nodded silently hoping to hide your true feelings. You refused to make this day hell for everyone.


Tommy followed a stairwell down into a kitchen.

Michael was lighting one up with the help of John who had a cigarette slowly deteriorating between his lips.

Arthur had plucked a bottle of champagne from a crate waving it cheerfully in the air.

Jeremiah, followed by Finn, entered from the cellar door. Tommy looked at the lot and motioned with his fingers.

The group came to and joined Tommy in a relaxed huddle.

“Alright men.” Tommy’s hands clapped together. “It’s my wedding day. You know what that means.”

Some lewd comments came from someone in the back. John grappled Michael in a headlock where Michael held his cigarette as far from John’s suit as possible. John snuck a playful jab to Michael’s abdomen.

“It means no rough housing.” Thomas pulled the two apart and shoved John back. “No fucking fighting.”

“Cocaine for the rich bastards.” Michael sucked soothingly on the end of his cigarette.

Tommy’s blue eyes darkened, he grabbed Michael by his lapel,” No fucking drugs.”

Arthur exchanged a look between the gents. He held the champagne up,” Drinking?”

The raven haired leader turned his attention to his older brother,” Lots of fucking drinking.” A grin stretched across his lips.

Cheers erupted from the group. Hands grabbed at Tommy pulling him into short-lived hugs and congratulatory pats on the back.

“Shall we, gentlemen?” Tommy rose a brow at his friends.


Your breath caught in your chest when you saw him waiting at the altar in a deep navy three-piece.

An unfamiliar softness had touched him. There was a warmth in his cheeks. The striking blue seas in his eyes were quiet and alluring.

You thought you caught a small smile curling at the corner of his lips.

When he took your hand, it was warm and his thumb swept reassuringly over your palm.

You could feel your pulse quicken. A bead of sweat gathered at the base of your neck.

You looked into the pews. Friends and family sat prim and proper expressing a mixture of emotions. Some looked blissful and other’s looked skeptical.

Swept up in your own regret and feelings, you tuned out the reality of your marriage.

“Thomas Shelby, do you take (Y/N) (Y/L/N) to be your lawfully wedded wife, to share your life openly, standing with her in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, in hardship and in ease, to cherish and love forever more?”

“I do.”

Do you (Y/N) (Y/L/N) take Thomas Shelby, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to share your life openly, standing with him in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, in hardship and in ease, to cherish and love forever more?”

The words choked in your throat. The pews creaked with curious onlookers. A gloomy cloud looked in his eyes.

“I do.” You forced breathlessly.

His hand came to your face, brushing his thumb tenderly over your cheek. His kiss was softer than expected but every bit expert as you assumed.

The rest was a blur. Your freedom as a single woman of the world was over. The reality of it was daunting.

The ring felt heavy on your finger. You stared at it. It was lovely. Celtic knots led to a beautiful diamond.

You only managed to look away when Tommy offered you his hand.

“Ready to go home?” He smiled.

“Home.” You mused distantly.

“And the reception.” Tommy reminded.

More distress weighed you down . “Right, of course.” You managed politely.

He pulled you into the carriage.

“Why a carriage?” You asked bluntly.

Get settled in next to you waving at the happy guests.

“It’s romantic. ” He turned to you with an amused smile.

“Oh? I thought Thomas Shelby was only good at fucking numbly.”

For a moment you thought he might turn cross. Instead, he laughed heartedly.

“I wondered where the rebel in you had gone.” He leaned comfortably back.

You looked away taking in the scenery with a satisfied smile.


The house was breathtaking. The architecture screamed Renaissance.

You were so captivated you hadn’t paid a speck of attention to Tommy.

“You like it.” His tone smug matching that triumphant glimmer in his eyes.

You glanced at him discontent. “It’ll do.” You corrected dryly.

“Everyone’s waiting. Shall we?” He offered you his arm.

The ballroom was beautiful. You wondered how often the room would be used. Who would fill the empty space?

People were already dancing and toasting to each other and the wedding. You were relieved everything seemed so ordinary and everyone carried on with ease.

“This was such a surprise, (Y/N). You married. We would have never thought.” Emma carried on.

“And to someone outside of Highbury. We’re surprised. Where are you from, Mr. Shelby?” Jane leaned in curiously.

Of all the people you had to greet tonight and thank, these two had lifted your spirits. They were certainly entertaining.

You could feel Thomas tense next to you from the chaotic chattering.

“Birmingham.” He answered nonchalantly sipping his champagne.

The two went on chattering. You could keep up with little trouble, but you could feel your new husband tiring of the foolishness. You reminded yourself to invite them often to your home.

“Excuse us ladies, I’m going to treat my wife to a dance.” He smiled at them.

They were silenced by him radiance. They nodded longingly.

You followed without resistance.

“You see them often.” He pulled you into him.

“Nearly every day.” You smiled devilishly.

“It’s good we didn’t stay in Highbury.” He looked around the room.

“They have one of the finest vehicles in Highbury. I’m sure they will visit often.” You mentioned lackadaisical.

Thomas grumbled something incoherent under his breath, but you felt successful in your efforts to put him in a bad mood.

You took another glass of champagne after the dance ended. “I think I might retire early. Marrying you was hard work.”

He shook his head at your words.”It’s only ten.”

“I’m sure you’re used to hosting without someone at your side. Or rather someone without a dignified title.” You sneered.

“You’re really trying to upset me, aren’t you?” He studied you dubiously.

“I need to know how to work you.” You smiled deviously. “Besides, it’s fun getting under your skin. You’re a - ELLIOT!”

You glowed. You set your champagne down and let him pull you in. His familiar honey and leather scent made you nostalgic.

“You look divine.” He hummed with his lips pressed to the side of your head.

You stepped back sheepish. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You look handsome as always Elliot. I didn’t see you at the ceremony.” You searched his face with modest concern.

He gave a forlorn smile,” I had business in London. I hurried as best I could.”

You were sure he wasn’t sorry he missed it.

“It’s so nice of you to come and celebrate our union.” His voice was buoyant, charming.

Elliot stiffened. His smile disappeared. “ I’d never miss a chance to celebrate (Y/N).”

“I believe it.” Tommy’s blue eyes were shadowed.

“May I?” Elliot turned to you a new song was being queued up by the band.

You stepped forward willingly, but Thomas’s arm forced you back. Your brows pulled together indignant.

“Not tonight, friend. (Y/N) was just about to retire. She is tired from the events today and I think we’d both like to get some rest.” He pulled you into him, hugging you from behind.

Your expression softened. You looked apologetically at Elliot. “I’m sorry, Elliot. I promise we’ll get together soon.”

Elliot nodded somberly at you. “I look forward to it.”

You turned away from the situation. Pulling out of Thomas’s grasp, you began the trek to your new bedroom.

“Goodnight, Elliot. Safe travels back home.” Thomas gave a curt nod and turned to follow you.

“I told you to be through with Elliot.” Thomas growled.

“Fuck off, Thomas. You can’t tell me who I can and cannot see.” You pulled clutched the train of your dress as you weaved through tables.

“You’re my wife! The hell I can’t!”

“Yes, your wife! Not your slave! I don’t have to obey your every word.” You bit back.

“You’re supposed to respect my wishes as the head of the house.” He fell into step with you.

“Shall I go to a new house then?” You asked menacingly.

“Don’t be a martyr.” He hissed.

You stayed quiet ignoring him.

Thomas caught your arm halting you mid step. You glared up at him, but he wasn’t paying any attention to you.

A haunting figure looked in a doorway not far off. A server was trying to get him to leave.

Tommy snapped his finger summoning John to his side. “Take her upstairs and lock the door behind her.”

“Don’t you dare, John.” You warned.

John smiled down at you,” No can do, love. I’ve got orders.” He practically whisked you out of the ballroom.

The last thing you saw was Thomas confronting the man with a threatening stance.

You slammed a fist on the locked door. “Damn it John, let me out!”

It was no use. He was gone.

You walked to another set of doors and slammed them in retaliation.

You turned away and looked angrily on at the beautiful decor. All your things from your room had been placed around the room including your vanity.

Hot tears clustered at the corner of your eyes. You wiped them away angrily.

You slipped out of your dress and into something more comfy. You sat on the edge of the bed in silence.

You were a prisoner here. You had expected to feel a much.

You heard the knob rattling and got up reading yourself for a fight.

Thomas stormed in,” Why do you have to be so difficult?”

“I don’t live to please you Thomas!” You shot back.

“You will not see Elliot ever again. Or else.” He pointed a finger at you.

You stomped up to him, letting his finger jab you in the chest.” Are you threatening me? You think you’re so scary. Please.”

“I said no more.” He growled through gritted teeth.

“Just try and stop me.” You turned away storming toward the bathroom.

“I will. Don’t make me.”

“By what? Locking me up like a prisoner?! I’m already a prisoner. You have your brother throwing me in here like a prison and inviting creeps into the house.”

“Don’t.” His voice was a low rumble borderline sinister.

“You’re a monster Thomas.” You tried to slam the bathroom door shut but he had his hand forcing it to stay open.

“Go away.” You pushed.

“No. You’re going to stop being a child. You’re going to wash up and let it sink in that this is your new life. No Elliot. No Highbury. No traipsing around trifling with all the men you see. You’re my wife, not a whore. No matter who you saw before me, you’re mine now.”

Hot tears streamed down your face. You felt humiliated. You were insulted.

“Is that what you think of me?” You wept letting the emotional floodgate break. “Well at least whores get some compensation. You couldn’t give me a damn thing that could make up for your callous, demented soul.”

He stepped back just enough to let the door slam. You locked it up quick and sank against it.

“Come on, (Y/N). Open up.”


He sighed.”At least come to bed. You don’t have to talk to me.”


He had given up shortly after. He cursed something and you squeezed yourself tighter blocking him out.

You couldn’t manage a steady breath. You had lost count of your crying and sniveling. You felt disgusting and exhausted.

You managed to drag yourself to the sink to wash up. Your mascara stained your cheeks and your lipstick smeared off your lips.

You washed up sluggishly. The last of your first fight disappeared down the drain. You pulled the clips from your hair and let it fall allowing the strain on your scalp to ease.

You debated sleeping in the fountain sized bath, but decided you would do better with a bed for as achy as you felt.

Your hand froze on the knob when you heard a series of cried and shouts. An unsettling gargle of asphyxiation had you ripping the door open.

Thomas was lying on the bed tossing and turning restlessly. His fingers tearing at his chest as if he was being burned from the inside out.

Sleep abandoned you as you bolted toward the bed. A bedpost jeered your attempt to reach him.

You bit through the pain and clambered on top of him. You gripped his shoulder tight shaking him with all your might.

“Thomas!” You cried horrified.

He screamed, fighting with someone who could not be you. His hands tore at your robe causing a tear in the seam.

His fingers bit into your skin. A mortified yelp uttered from your lips.

“Thomas, it’s me! Stop! What’s happening?! Please wake up!”

Your shook his chest ignoring the battering of your body as he tried to get rid of a ghost.

He gasped for unfound air. He went still. Your fingers trembled over his face to his neck for a pulse. You leaned to check for breath.

Mortified by lack of flow, you pressed your lips to his blowing in air. Your hands pumping his chest.

You leaned back. Nothing.

You banged on his chest.

“Thomas! Please don’t leave me!” You pled with tears stinging your weary eyes.

Tragedy. It was a constant. Like the fading sun and rising moon, every new day seemed to bring on something more to break against her bones, something new to find purchase in her throat and threaten to choke her. It wasn’t easy – none of this was. Protecting everyone in Red Creek had always been what she’d wanted; but the spotlight growing hotter on her own coven’s back and the newly dead soon buried among those others before them made it difficult. The grass that grew to meet the headstones of ancestors irritated her skin, but she’d hadn’t enough power of will to move. She didn’t know what to do – and all she had was the strength that resonated from within the ground beneath her. Perhaps it was heartless of her, to have barely thought of the hunters – the people she knew, the people she’d shared this town with; but her heart didn’t bleed for them. She bled for her people. She could feel their very essence fade from the air around her. A loss to her coven was staggering, they’d come to learn to channel each other — to trust the powers each member held, and suddenly two were gone. Their power with it. Had they not already been weak in the face of a town wide magic ban – of which she had no part of voting it in – such a loss was devastating. A waning flower held between delicate fingers grew to bloom by the mere will of her power, uncaring to the ban – uncaring of much at this point in time. JD was still missing, Nolan was going out of his mind, and she didn’t know where to go from here  – how to help, when so many now saw the Fontaine Coven as something they never had been before. A threat. “White Carnations. Symbolic for remembrance.” She muttered lightly as the presence behind her became known, the flower soon laid cross the stone Savannah knelt before. “As if anybody could forget the things that happen here in the first place.–”