he's still broken

anonymous asked:

word prompt: uncertain

Dean picks up the pages, testing their weight in his palm. There aren’t just a few. There are a lot.

He looks at the door, certain he shouldn’t be here, but uncertain that he can bring himself to leave. It’s an accidental find, really. He’d come into Cas’s cabin expecting him to be stoned, or high. Instead, Cas was gone. Instead, on the floor, ripped and spread out like a deck of cards were the journal pages.

Gingerly, Dean separates one from the stack. One that had Dean’s name written in cursive along the outer fold.

He skims the page realizing they aren’t exactly journal entries, per se, but more a place for one sentence thoughts.

-What’s a Vulcan? Dean called me one today.

Dean smiles.

-Dean asked me again if it’s hot in my trenchcoat. I keep telling him angels don’t feel cold. It’s strange to me that he keeps forgetting.

-Sam is acting off. I’m suspicious of his activities and hope that he isn’t drinking–

Dean lets that page fall away. He grabs another with the year 2013 at the top. He scans it, pushing down the guilty feeling in his stomach at prying.

-I broke my leg today. Dean said it’ll probably heal up in a day or two. But I know. I’m human now.


-I flew back to the park bench again. Sometimes I like to look at the trees or the children playing. It reminds me Dean used to be a child once. Did he ever get to play at a park?


-Dean’s been gone for two days on a supply run. He might be dead or a croatoan now. I’m useless to help with my broken leg. I tried Vicodin for the first time. It almost made me forget how much I worry about him when he’s gone.


-A Vulcan is an emotionally repressed, logical and stoic creature in the fictional world of Star Trek. I don’t find the comparison particularly amusing.


-Dean smiled today. I haven’t seen that in a long time. He has a beautiful smile.


-The world is coming apart at the seams, but I’m slowly finding understanding coming together for me. There is something different in Dean than the way I feel towards Sam. It leaves me feeling unsettled and raw. I want to look at Dean. To be near him. Instead, I’m reminded about “personal space.” I wish I knew why I can’t touch him. I wish I knew why I want to.

Dean’s hands become slack as he realizes that his name found its way to almost every page of the entries. Sometimes it’s Cas venting that he was pissed at Dean. Sometimes they are simply questions about things he didn’t understand.

But then Dean thumbs to the handwritten pages at the back. Even without the confirmation of the dates, he can tell they are more recent by the way that Cas’s handwriting has started to lose its neat quality over the years, morphing into the messy scrawls Dean recognizes now.

The entries in 2014 are simpler, too, some of them filled with only disjoined words:


-Green eyes

-Small patches of hair that stick up in the back

-His laugh

-His smile. Always his smile. Even if it’s just in memories.

Dean squints, his mouth falling open slightly as he hears a sound behind him. He turns. Cas’s face is surprisingly calm for someone who’s caught another person rifling through his entries.

Cas walks over, his tiny limp that he still carries from his broken leg noticeable, if only to Dean. He lightly holds out a hand and Dean drops the papers in them with a guilty look.

Then, licking his lips, Cas begins to read.

“Caring. Stubborn. Beautiful.”

Clearing his throat, Dean braves a look at Cas.

“You’ve been writing these a long time,” he whispers.

Cas nods, smiling fondly as his thumb rubs across a passage he’s found.

Dean glances at it:

-I told him once when he was sleeping. I know it’s not the same, but I needed him to know.


“I couldn’t look at them anymore,” says Cas, gripping the paper tightly as it starts to crumple from the pressure.

Very carefully, Dean pulls the papers from Cas, dropping them to the ground. He moves his hand to Cas’s jaw, touching it with one finger, then his full hand as Cas closes his eyes, relaxing into it.

“So tell me now,” Dean says. “I’m awake. Tell me now.”

Cas’s eyes open with a flutter.

“I love you,” he says without hesitation.

Dean leans in, kissing Cas lightly on the lips, tasting the salt of his humanity on his tongue.

They stand on the pages of their past, kissing deeper, as if finding each other again after years of being lost.

Holding each other, Dean presses his ear against Cas’s, relishing in the warmth he finds there.

“I love you, too,” he says.

anonymous asked:

5. “I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

5. “I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

In which Harry is beyond patient with your drunken antics.

Harry holds you close to him, rubbing his hand up and down your arm. You’re riding back home from the pub, where you had a few drinks too many. The room started to spin around you and your friends’ names evaded your memory, and Harry knew that was the end of the night.

“Yeh all righ’, love? Don’ fall asleep jus’ yet.”

“I feel awful,” you tell him, burying your face in his shirt to inhale the comforting scent of him.

“Told yeh t’ stop three drinks ago,” he reminds you, chuckling into your hair.

“Shut up,” you mumble.

The car stops at your shared place and Harry pulls you away from him so he can get out, helping you after him. He thanks the driver and wraps an arm tightly around your waist, holding you to his side while he unlocks the door. You’ve barely made it inside when you feel your stomach churning. You push away from Harry and your feet carry you to the bathroom, where you drop to your knees and lift the toilet seat. You don’t throw up immediately, but the discomfort in your stomach only gets worse.

“Y/N?” Harry appears in the doorway with a crease between his eyebrows. “Did yeh get sick, baby?”

“No, but I’m gonna.” You clutch the rim of the toilet and squeeze your eyes closed while a wave of nausea passes through your body. Harry pulls a hair tie from his wrist—a habit he still hasn’t broken since he cut his hair—and kneels down beside you, gathering up your locks and tying them back. Then his hands brush down your neck and rub gently over your back.

There’s a silent minute before you actually start to throw up. Harry keeps rubbing your back, whispering how you’re okay, everything’s okay.

“No, it’s not,” you say when you can catch a breath. Your throat burns, your mouth tastes terrible, and your stomach is churning. “I’m gonna die. I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying,” he informs you with a soft laugh. “You’re fine, baby. You’ll feel better in a li'l bit.”

You groan in response before leaning back over the toilet to empty your stomach. And he’s right, you do feel better after a few minutes when your body’s rejected the extra alcohol.

“Yeh done, love?”

“I think so.” Your voice is raw, and you can still feel alcohol pumping its way through your veins.

“’M gonna go change. Can yeh handle brushing your teeth? Please, don’ make me brush your teeth fo’ yeh.”

“I can do it,” you state confidently. Harry smiles as he rises to his feet. He holds his hands out and helps you up, flushing away your mess. Your toothbrush is ready and in your hand before he leaves the room. When you look in the mirror, you find a mess of a person. Tears have streaked makeup down your cheeks and your clothes are in disarray. Your vision is slightly blurry as you begin to clean your teeth.

“Is tha’ better?” Harry asks as he reappears in a pair of comfy sweats.

“My throat still hurts,” you tell him, rinsing out your mouth.

“I’ll get yeh some water,” he says, backing out of the room. “Wait in the bedroom fo’ me, love.”

You do as your told, making your way into the other room to plop yourself down on the bed. You feel a bit loopy, and your limbs feel heavy. You’re just staring at a wall that seems to dip and swim in front of you when Harry walks in with a big glass of water.

“Drink some o’ this,” he orders gently as he hands it to you. You sip at the cold liquid and it soothes your burning throat. “Let’s get yeh ready fo’ bed. I’m gonna take care o’ yeh, okay?”

You nod in response and Harry drops to his knees, undoing your heeled boots and pulling them from your aching feet. His fingers reach for the button of your jeans and you shift away from his touch as he skims your belly.

“Don’t tickle me!”

“’M not tryin’ t’ tickle yeh!” he exclaims with a laugh. “’M tryin’ t’ get your pants off. Don’ spill your drink, yeah?”

“It’s not very gentlemanly to take off my pants when I’m this drunk,” you inform him, taking another gulp of water.

“I’ll keep tha’ in mind,” he says with a playful roll of his eyes. He reaches forward again to unbutton your pants and a slosh of water spills down your front as you giggle. “Oi! Be careful.” He takes the glass from you to set down on the bedside table and wipes his now-wet hands on his sweatpants.

“Sorry,” you mumble, flopping back on the mattress. Harry chuckles and is finally able to undo your jeans, tugging the denim down your legs. His ringed fingers pat your hands.

“Gotta sit up fo’ me, love.” He pulls you back into a sitting position and lifts your shirt from your body, then unclasps your bra and tosses all of your clothes into the dirty laundry. He opens the dresser and digs around for one of his t-shirts, finding one that he hasn’t worn in years.

“Arms up,” he urges when he comes back, helping you into the shirt one limb at a time. He presses a gently kiss to your forehead when your face pops out again and smiles. “Wanna get your makeup off?”

“Yes,” you agree, nodding quickly. “I look like a clown.”

“Yeh do not.” He chuckles and finds one of your makeup wipes, coming back to squat in front of you. “Look pretty still. Yeh always do.”

“You’re lying,” you accuse with a big grin.

“Am not,” he retorts, grinning back and resting a hand on your cheek to hold your head still as he gently wipes stray mascara from your face. “Prettiest girl ’ve ever seen.”

“Shut up,” you hush with a giggle.

Harry laughs at you again as he finishes cleaning up your face.

“Tha’s better,” he commends, standing back up and pressing his lips to the top of your head. “Don’ look like yeh been cryin’ anymore. How ‘bout yeh finish your water b'fore we go to bed?”

You nod and pick up the glass again, sipping slowly. Harry leaves to brush his teeth. When he comes back, he takes the empty glass from you and sets it down again. He lifts the covers to get you into bed and then climbs in beside you, wrapping his arms around your torso to hold you against him.

“Better not be cranky a’ me t'morrow,” he whispers, kissing your cheek gently.

“Couldn’t if I wanted to,” you whisper back, snuggling into him.


Originally posted by littlemisssyreid

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky starts flirting with you and it’s making you blush uncontrollably. You think he’s just messing with you not knowing about his feelings for you

Word count: 1200

A/N: This wasn’t requested, but I’ve just been feeling Bucky lately so I had to write something about him. Hope you’ll like it! :) I’ll get back to the request soon, don’t worry!


Bucky had been a part of the team for a year now and you had become really close with him. When he first joined, he was quiet and avoided all social situations. For the first few weeks he didn’t eat dinner with the team even once. No one wanted to push him to do anything he wasn’t comfortable doing because he was still so broken by everything Hydra did to him. You did everything you could to make him feel welcome without putting any pressure on him. You loved seeing the progress he was making, how he slowly started turning into the same old Bucky again that Steve had told you about. How every week his smile grew wider and stories became funnier. Now a year later he was a completely different person. Yeah, he was still a bit insecure and shy compared to how he was in the 40’s but considering everything he was doing amazing.

“Good morning doll” Bucky walked into the kitchen with a huge grin on his face. You loved that he was becoming his flirty self again. Of course, you realized that it was just his personality and that he was flirting with every woman he met. Sometimes he even flirted with Steve just to make him uncomfortable. “Morning Bucky” you smiled at him and took a sip of your water. “You look absolutely beautiful in the mornings, you know that right?” He says out of nowhere and leans on the counter opposite of you staring deep into your eyes. You almost choked on your water because of his unexpected words. You knew he was teasing you to make you blush uncontrollably and he succeeded with his mission. You tried to tell yourself that he was just messing with you, that he wasn’t flirting with you for real, so you wouldn’t fall for him head over heels. Over the year you had developed a big crush on him and this new personality trait of his wasn’t helping you. “I do know that” you said jokingly and turned your attention back to your breakfast. Stop blushing, Stop. Blushing. You tried to calm yourself down to slower your heartbeat.

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We Could Be Gigantic

for @padfootdidntdoit , whomst i would be lost without 

word count: 4700

part i | AO3 | spotify playlist


When the kettle begins boiling in earnest, it drowns out the ticking of that awful clock that Sirius found in a train station, or at the bottom of the Thames, or in nineteen fifty-two. He installed it so far up the wall behind the fridge that Lily hasn’t a hope of reaching it unless she somehow manages to grow an extra three feet, and it drives her mad (especially considering he’s only eight inches taller than her). The point of this is that Lily spends as much time as possible per day boiling the kettle. Lately, her rate of tea consumption is just about levelling James’, which is – well, she sent him a crate of real tea last week so it must be just about time to post him another one.

The clock isn’t even on the right time, which is probably the worst part. Actually, no, the fact that Lily has started automatically adding an hour and six minutes on in her head is probably the worst part.

(She was at work last week when her co-worker Dorcas had asked the time and Lily had told her it was four fifty. Needless to say, their boss had not been pleased to discover Dorcas in the staff room packing up her things an hour before the end of her shift.)

Lily looks at the clock, and it reads two forty-five, which means that in nine minutes’ time, James will be seated in front of his laptop, ready to receive an incoming video call from her. She plugs her own computer into its charger, and waits for it to turn on (too slowly), and then she logs in to Skype.

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Levi, Erwin, and the Decision to Die

I’ve heard some criticism of Levi allowing Erwin to die, and Erwin choosing to die, in Chapter 84. They claim that it was a plot device to allow main-character Armin to survive that went against their characters. To them, I would advise them to reread the manga the chapter and really take in what’s going on.

Specifically, the flashback sequence. 

Isayama didn’t include those to fill up pages, you know. Each one is a crucial memory in Levi’s development which results in the decision he made. The salvation of Armin was very much a character-driven decision, not a plot one - it was made to be Levi’s choice for a reason, and his decision resulted in the perfect resolution to Erwin’s arc and extensive growth to Levi’s.

The first of these flashbacks displays Armin’s motivation. Again, this is by no means an ass-pull; Isayama planned for this all these chapters ago by having Levi listen in on this conversation because it his decision to save Armin is crucial to his development. It’s Armin’s dream which is crucial here. Look at the genuine joy and excitement in his eyes. He really, truly wants to see the ocean for the beauty of it all. But in the next flashback…

…Erwin’s words don’t match his actions. He expresses the same determination as Armin did, but without any of Armin’s fire. Even as Erwin speaks these words his head is downcast, and he even admits that he has no idea what he will do afterwards, whereas for Armin, the idea of seeing the ocean is more of a symbolic gesture for appreciating the freedom outside the walls - one of hope for the future itself.

As an appreciative side note, the parallels between Armin and Erwin continue to be strong, and the fact that both of their fates rely on Bertholdt, their third parallel, ties in the three interconnected worlds of the Warriors, the Survey Corps, and the 104th. It is a decision to save one of three halves of the same self. For Armin, the dream that drives all his actions is to see the ocean; for Erwin, the basement; for Bertholdt, his hometown. Levi doesn’t consider the worth of Bertl’s life in this equation, given his lack of a personal connection to him and Bertl being an enemy, but panels of Bertholdt between flashbacks do, I think, imply his connection to the two.

Anyway getting back on track, Levi hasn’t realised this crucial difference between Armin and Erwin yet. It takes a very important memory to trigger that recognition… 

The death of Kenny Ackerman in Chapter 69 is perhaps the definitive moment for Levi’s character development, as well as for the vital theme of Intoxication throughout SNK. In probably my favourite scene of the series, Kenny explains how in this cold, brutal, bloody world, dreams and aspirations are existential drugs to keep the trauma and the pain at bay, and give meaning to the endless slaughter.

But there comes a point where one experiences so much pain, so much loss, that the drug enslaves you. Just like how drug addicts eventually cease to take any pleasure from its consumption yet can’t stop because now they’re addicted, Kenny no longer feels any real longing for power; but after Uri’s death, that’s all he has left.  He sets himself a goal to distract himself from the emptiness inside. If he had still truly desired power, he would have taken the titan serum himself. But he doesn’t. His dream was simply the strings animating his lifeless body.

And the same is true of Erwin.

Kenny’s words about Uri echo back to Levi to refer to Erwin. As it should, as Uri and Erwin are the respective receivers of the infamous Ackerbond. He, like Uri, like Kenny, is enslaved by this dream. Erwin practically says it himself in Chapter 80:

The answers are the only thing that drive Erwin. Aside from that, his life is empty, thus his longing to die…but he can’t. Because the addiction still enslaves him.

This is, of course, the long-awaited revelation of the question Erwin asked his father in his flashback in Chapter 55, all those years ago.

“What doesn’t exist” in this scenario specifically refers to the lost records of humanity. revealing that dream at the core of Erwin’s character - to challenge convention and find the truth of what lies beyond. This is the dream. This is the memory that reappears in Erwin’s dying moments because it is the base essence of who he is - it is what plays inside his head with every decision he makes. This question is all he is now. 

And here it is, the explicit connection between Erwin and Kenny - the two most important people in Levi’s life. You can see the shock and pain in his eyes as he makes the connection and knows that Erwin was about to make the same choice Kenny had…

…to reject the serum and die. To be free from their intoxication at last. He doesn’t know about Armin’s situation. He’s making this decision because he does not truly want to see the basement anymore. Remember that Erwin is still in a delirious state - the recollection of Levi’s words to Erwin were included to show that here Erwin is not thanking Levi for offering him the serum; he is thanking him for his actions in chapter 80 - what he wanted to say behind his sad smile. By making the decision for him, Levi liberated him from his intoxication at long last. 

At this point, Levi knows that the cruellest thing to do to Erwin right now would be to return him to its grasp. The panel showing Armin’s eyes, free from the sadness of Erwin’s, shows that he still posseses the younger dream - the innocent dream of a younger version of Erwin’s self, before it escalates into a life-dominating intoxication. Levi knows that the younger dream is the one that must be preserved.

“Hell” is his addiction, the compulsion that swallowed up his life and caused him so much pain and grief. This is what people who insist that Erwin should have seen the basement before he died don’t understand. Seeing the basement could never be a positive thing for Erwin’s character, because once he saw it, he would have been overcome with despair because it could never have possibly lived up to his expectations. His goal would be complete, but he would still be a broken man, and upon discovering the secrets of the basement he will have no choice but to see those ghosts all the time.

Seeing the basement would not have been the fulfilment of a dream. It would have shattered it. It would have been the fruition of a toxic addiction which had ruined Erwin’s life, and by allowing Erwin to die, Levi gave him the agency to wrest back control of his life from its grasp.

And Erwin, by dying, fulfilled what the dream was back when he was a child, back when it was chaste, before it was the basement and when it was a simple question. With that question, he saw beyond the illusion and defied the powers that be. In accepting death, he in turn saw beyond the drunken haze of the dream and broke free of its control on him.

Erwin Smith died triumphant, and free.

Thoughts Roundup - Twin Peaks: The Return, Part 17 & 18

“It is a story of many, but begins with one - and I knew her. The one leading to the many is Laura Palmer. Laura is the one”. So said the Log Lady in her iconic introduction to the first ever Twin Peaks. Just as Laura became a conduit to the town and its people, all these people led right back to Laura Palmer. She was at the end of every road, her photograph lived in all the town’s buildings, and even decades later in The Return, her face emerges slowly from the trees during the opening credits. What was about her always will be about her, and that cannot be changed. 

Everything in these two hours presents easier answers than Laura does, but that has always been true of her - she’s the one still filled with secrets. There is something of a heartbreaking, world-changing realisation in this finale, the kind of realisation that the patrons of the Roadhouse had when Maddie Palmer was killed. There was no way for them to know what had happened, but they felt it. Twin Peaks has always been about feeling rather than knowing. It feels like falling, like the world is being rocked from its axis, and it is the show at its most powerful.

There is a common idea in Television Finales that the last episode is where something concludes - where the world, for better or worse, is put to rights. And when this finale feels like it’s heading towards that, it takes a violent u-turn and reminds us that Twin Peaks has never been normal television.

The hellish final fight between Freddie and Bob is visually very Lynchian, yet there is an unusual amount of literalness and resolution to it. Just as Freddie punches Bob through the floor, the BobBall (there’s gotta to be a better word for it) rises again, a terrifying and unstoppable anthropomorphised nightmare that violates our screen, bursting from it with visceral and unknowable force. When Bob crawled over the couch in the Palmer house and came directly towards the camera, that was an invasive and affective moment, but this is that moment amplified to unbearable measures. But he still is vanquished, broken into small pieces and absorbed through the ceiling of the office. And after everything Doppelcoop had been through, after all the vicious, hardened monsters he’d come up against - it was Lucy who killed him with a single gunshot and sent him packing back to the black lodge. 

Lucy gets her heroic moment (She has always been an unsung hero, a smarter-than-you’d-think character who, despite struggling with mobile phones, still gets things done when she needs to) and even though all of these moments feel suspiciously neat and tidy, it’s hard not to be delighted by them. It turns out Naido is Diane as many suspected (and we finally learned earlier that Judy is the ancient evil being referred to in The Secret History of Twin Peaks, and most likely the experiment we saw in the box in New York) and her and Coop’s embrace is satisfying but again, very convenient. And then - right on time! - here’s Gordon, Tammy and Albert! And Bobby, The Mitchum Brothers, James and Freddie! They’re all here, all your favourite characters! And at any moment it almost feels like someone is about to come in and say “Coop, this telegram came for you - your old pal Harry Truman says ‘Coop, i’ve sent you a piece of cherry pie and a coffee, and i’ll be home soon. Hee-Haw, and Merry Christmas!’”. It feels unreal and purposefully kind of artificial. But something tells us this is off. 

After interacting with Naido/Diane, Dale looks as though he’s almost regressing back to who he was before waking up. But instead, he’s remembering something. He’s met her before, in another world. His moment of realisation echoes throughout the scene, as a transparent and ghostly image of Dale’s face dominates the frame and the rest of the action occurs, visually, inside his head. He remembers something, and we begin to suspect that none - or all - of these worlds are real, including the one we’re in now. 

Earlier in the episode, Cooper commented that the time 2.53pm is 2+5+3 which is “10, the number of completion”. The clock in the sheriff’s office cannot move on. It is stuck between 2.52 and 2.53. Time moves strangely and completion cannot be reached. There is something missing, which the transparent Dale comments on: “We Live Inside A Dream”. He also says that past dictates the future and that things will change, and suddenly, everything does start to change. As Dale will soon change the course of history, the moments in the office begin to feel unreal. Their current existence can’t exist as it does if what happened in the past is undone. The dream will soon be shattered, and it’s already starting to fracture. Is it future or past? One and the same. 

The past dictates the future, so if the past can be changed, then there are infinite ways that the story could turn out. There are versions where Laura was killed, versions where she lived, versions where she was never born in the first place. The version that we know is a dream inasmuch as it is just one version of events. It’s a version that was directly affected by Bob because he killed Laura. And so, as the sinking feeling begins again, the lights go out in the office and Dale, Gordon and Diane find themselves removed from the office and walking through darkness. Is this what it’s like to go missing in Twin Peaks? Is this what it was like for Jeffries or Desmond? And are the people in the Sheriff’s office still there, wondering just where the hell those three went? Or are they non-ex-ist-ent?

The trio find themselves in the basement of the Great Northern hotel. The door to which Dale has the key is maybe the final and most important precipice that he pushes himself through. Though he has been guided by The Fireman, this decision is what changes everything, and it’s a decision that we now know was not the right decision. It’s so painful, in hindsight, to see Dale so plucky and optimistic going into this. He so selflessly wants happiness for everyone, and not only that but wants to remove pain that exists now and has existed seemingly forever. He wants to be the ultimate hero, and once he’s in 1989 and writing himself into Laura’s history, he begins to act as a version of The Fireman. Jeffries has sent him here, after telling him where to find Judy, (”Say hello to Gordon. He’ll remember the unofficial version”), and at first Laura sees him hiding and screams. It’s an absolutely ingenious retconning of events, and visually it is seamless. The events that we see from Fire Walk With Me feel and look like a distant dream that Dale tries to wake her up from. When Laura stumbles through the woods, she sees Dale, looking tall, benevolent and completely out of place, much like The Fireman did whenever he appeared. 

As Laura Palmer’s theme chimes in, and as you hear her voice again, sounding so young and so sweet, it is overwhelmingly moving. You know that he is here to save her, and it is the bittersweetness of wishing this could happen and knowing that it cannot that makes you ache. As he lead her away, her plastic-wrapped corpse disappears from the beach, and Pete Martell finally gets to go fishing. It is almost too much to fathom, but as Dale leads her through the darkest woods, through complete silence, we know that it cannot be that simple. The sound the Fireman played back in Part 1 finally triggers something, and Laura is gone again, her agonising scream shattering our hopes. Laura is gone. She hasn’t been saved, she has been entirely relocated, and Sarah Palmer - or Judy, who seems to live inside her - feels this. The smashing and stabbing of Laura’s portrait by Sarah is violently ugly, and the editing as her strikes are reversed and chopped up is masterful. Someone has stolen her Garmonbozia. 

When Dale makes it out of those dark woods, he’s in the Black Lodge again, and this is where things start to look familiar. Laura’s whispered secret causes Dale some confusion, and she is ripped out of the lodge and placed in another time and another place. Her whisper is something we will never know, but it isn’t something Dale is happy to hear. “You can’t save me”. “You killed me”. “I’m in Odessa”. Who knows - it could’ve been any of these things, or none of these things. The point, really, is that we don’t know. We almost feel as if her words would somehow answer a cosmic question that’d make everything fall into place, but would they really? What could she say to make any of this okay? I think Dale’s reaction - an incredulous “huh?” - says that he is realising what we are all realising throughout this episode. Some awful, horrible truth. And even still, he listens to Leland - “find Laura”. 

Outside of the Lodge at Glastonbury Grove, it’s hard to tell what is real in the darkness of the woods. Diane is there, and Dale and her confirm to each other that they are their real selves. But by this stage, we don’t know who they are anymore. This is further obfuscated by the purposeful lack of time that we spend with Dale and Diane together. They are suddenly driving somewhere far, far away from Twin Peaks - 430 miles to be exact - to the place that Doppelcoop crashed and was nearly taken back to the lodge at the top of the season. And it’s here, next to crackling electric pylons that physically resemble the owl cave symbol we’ve seen time and time again, that Dale and Diane go through the final door. (Speaking of final doors, i’m so delighted to see a version of Coop/Dougie returning home to Janey-E and Sonny Jim. It was a long time coming, but it’s nice to see that sometimes you really can go home).

They know things will be different on the other side, but don’t they already feel different? We have been entirely disconnected from the rest of the characters in the finale, and that makes wherever Dale is seem completely isolated. The last of Dale as we know him is gone after one final kiss, and the blue skies turn into the darkest of nights once again - we are in another place. In this other place, Dale and Diane are still themselves, but they’ve lost something. Dale is colder, slower and quieter. Diane seems to be in pain again. At a motel, she stares out of her car window and sees herself emerge quietly from behind a wall. Perhaps this was a warning to her to get away. That the identity of Diane would be dead by the morning if she stayed. She stayed, and the world changed. 

Nothing has ever felt as wrong as their sex scene feels. Dale is emotionless and still throughout, not even reacting as Diane claws at and mashes his face; she looks towards the ceiling, desperate to be far away. It feels like they are becoming other people, they are slipping away from who they are into entirely different roles. It feels sickly and uncomfortable, as if the more they try to get closer, the further apart they drift. They aren’t themselves anymore.

She is gone when he wakes up, and in this other world they’ve passed into, she has fully accepted her identity as Linda. It is a continuing theme from Lost Highway, a nightmarish concept of finding out that you are not who you thought you were. Dale doesn’t accept that he’s Richard, and is confused by the letter he finds naming him as Richard, and signed Linda. Dale is holding on for dear life, but even he has to acknowledge that outside, the motel is not the one they entered last night, and the car he gets into is not the car they drove last night - if it even was last night. Identity is a big theme in Lynch’s work, and Dale bases his identity on being an enthusiastic, kind and hard-working man, but now he is being pushed further and further away from that until he is literally somebody else.

Dale seems to drive without direction. He’s not his usual determined self, and not a note of music is heard now. He drives through a flat, faceless but realistic looking town. The banality receives a jolt of terror, as a giant “JUDY’S” sign makes the place feel manufactured again. Inside the cafe, Dale is different. He doesn’t enjoy his coffee, he is far more violent than usual when dispatching the three men in the cafe (though gotta admit: they deserved it), and there is a spark gone from his eyes. He’s Dale minus something. He leaves Judy’s with his information on where to find “Laura” and waiting outside Laura’s - or Carrie’s, as she’s known in this reality - is that same buzzing telephone pole that was found in the fat trout trailer park. It is a symbol, a warning, a normal object repurposed as a symbol of something evil and dangerous. It is directly outside her house. Dale recognises this but continues.

There is such pain in seeing Laura not as Laura. She has disappeared from one reality to be thrown into one manufactured by Judy which sees her as Carrie, someone with a great deal of pain inside her too. Nervous and unsettled, she reacts with a stuttering dread to the name “Sarah”. She is on the verge of a realisation, even if she brushes off being told by Dale that she is a girl named Laura. He seems to have such a lack of control in this scene. He asks rambling, untidy questions that don’t get him anywhere. He has little sense of authority, and is easily confused by what he learns. He is Richard in this timeline, or at least, he was supposed to be. He’s holding onto Dale but he’s not as strong as he was. He wants to wake Laura up and to take her home, but what does he expect from that? Does he really think Laura can be saved, and Judy defeated? Would Laura really want to return home? Dale doesn’t think of this because he’s fixated on fixing things. But he ruptured something when he went back to 1989.

It’s hard to say what is more troubling in Carrie/Laura’s living room: the corpse, or the figurine on her mantle of the white horse. “Woe to the ones who behold the pale horse”, we were told by the Log Lady. Woe to Dale and woe to Carrie/Laura. We have descended fully into this netherworld with them and cut off contact with what is familiar. The focus that they get in this last episode begins to hint that this is it. As the minutes go on, we know there cannot be an encompassing closure. There are threads and stories that won’t be tied off. You can think of these last moments as a detour, but they’re a detour that close the story in an eternal, figure 8 loop. Just as the first ever episode of Twin Peaks shifted gear with Dale driving into the town, the final parts close with the same journey. The first time, he’d gone to save the memory of a girl named Laura Palmer. The second, he’s come to bring that girl back to life. 

And so they drive, and drive, and drive. She is happy to be leaving Odessa, to be far away from Judy’s and White Horses. She doesn’t know exactly what to expect, but she accepts the ride. The dark night ahead of them is the longest yet. The headlights on the road linger for so long. They are leaving Odessa on an odyssey through the lost highways and into woods of Laura’s memories. The blackness becomes all encompassing, this becomes their dark night of the soul. We are going deeper into this world and deeper into Laura, and we wait for any sign that she is who she was. She looks out the window and the douglas fir trees fail to trigger anything for her. They pass the Double R diner - the lights are off and the streets are empty - and still nothing. 

This isn’t home anymore. It wasn’t home when Laura was alive, either. It was a trap for her, just as Odessa was a trap. Twin Peaks was not a dream, but a nightmare for Laura. It was her dream - her nightmare - that they all lived inside. And Dale fails to recognise this and now he’s broken it. He wants for that to be erased and replaced with something better, but if she is erased, then how can it all exist? The Log Lady once said: “When this kind of fire starts, it is very hard to put out. The tender boughs of innocence burn first, and the wind rises, and then all goodness is in jeopardy.”. Dale is a hero for trying to put that fire out, but Margaret was right: goodness is in jeopardy, and it isn’t easy, or possible, to save it this way.

At the house, Dale bumbles through questions to the owner. No, there’s no Sarah Palmer here. No, we didn’t buy the house from her. The answer that we do get says so much: her name is Alice Tremond, and she bought the house from Mrs Chalfont - both names given to a woman who existed both in our world and in the black lodge. Though she was largely benevolent, this hammers home that this isn’t the Twin Peaks we know. Something is very off. We are in their house now. Is this the same woman who will one day give Laura the painting of a doorway? There is too much to comprehend in these questions, and back on the street, it all washes over Dale as he is wounded in confusion. He tries to hold onto some semblance of reality, like a dream upon waking. But he is powerless again - he hasn’t delivered Laura home, he hasn’t saved her, and home doesn’t really exist anymore. 

The curtains are torn down and the realities crash into one, the dream has ended, and now we face a world where he and Laura possibly don’t exist. By taking Laura from the woods and delivering Laura back here, has he killed the memory of her? The question that strikes Dale is “What year is this?”. He staggers around in confusion; Laura looks down, beginning to tremble. She doesn’t know what year it is. She is on the cusp of a realisation, of a memory, of this dream she is in being shattered as the other one was. It is all too much to bear, until a familiar sound sends everything crashing to the ground. 

The sound is the haunted, ghostly voice of Sarah Palmer calling “Laura?” from the house. It isn’t just her calling the name - but the exact clip from the first episode of Sarah calling upstairs to Laura. A memory, a fragment of who she was and what happened to her, is calling out from some deep, dark and distant world. And like Doppelcoop’s ominous “:-) ALL” text message, the sound lights a fire and and she remembers everything. She does the only thing she can do, and we hear maybe the most famous, haunting and agonising sound in all of Twin Peaks: the primal scream of Laura Palmer.

Dale looks in fear, in shock. He has got what he wanted, but he’s realising what he wanted is not what is right. A pain that has lasted forever and will last forever is reawakened in her. Dale can go back and try to change history, and he can destroy the timeline as we know it: but he cannot undo the pain and the fear. Laura was killed. He tries to kill two birds with one stone: to save her from death, and then bring her back home. But she cannot be brought back home without remembering what happened to her. This kills her all over again. It is a paradox of anguish, a full circle that is destined to loop forever. Her scream shatters the dream, and the lights in the Palmer house suddenly shut off. She has broken something. And before we see where they go next - to non-existence, back to the start, or wherever else you like to imagine - it cuts to black, the only sound lingering is the echo of her scream. It will always echo. It will always have been, and it always will be. 

As the credits begin to roll, Dale and Laura are in the Lodge again, and she is whispering a secret into his ear in slow motion. Fear and confusion are written across his face. He is realising she cannot be saved. Perhaps he is realising his attempts to fix things have made them worse. He has shattered her dream, the dream of Twin Peaks, and as a result undone his reality as well as her’s. He has trapped himself between worlds. He longs to see, but he has never been able to wake up fully from his own dream. He has never been able to stare reality in the face and realise that he cannot save the world. If Twin Peaks has been Laura’s dream, it makes it no less real. It all happened, she saw it all unfold in her dreams, she saw herself sacrificed and much later, she saw Bob finally defeated. But then Dale undid this. 

It is impossible to think of this all in literal terms. I don’t think any of it was invalidated, and I don’t believe that it was all as simple as a literal dream. I think instead that we’ve been privy to a version of events and everyone has played inside that. Maybe that version was Laura’s dream and that’s the one that should’ve been. The Return has asked us repeatedly to question who the dreamer is, to challenge everything we are seeing, because nothing is ever simple, and nothing is ever really finished. 

Everyone believed The Return referred to Dale’s return to Twin Peaks. It didn’t. It referred to Dale trying to return the world to how he believed it should be - a place free from the abuse and murder of Laura Palmer. And he’s right, we shouldn’t live in a world where that kind of thing happens. But ultimately it did happen. Dale is powerless and misguided, because instead of learning from past trauma and building a healthy road away from that, he attempts to drive back down that dark road and delete and invalidate the existence of that trauma. That can never be done. You cannot remove it without removing everything along with it. Where he should’ve focussed on dismantling the evil going forward, he focussed on undoing the damage.

I don’t know if Laura will ever find peace in this, or any dream. I don’t know if Dale will, either. It is a painful realisation that home will never be the home you thought it was, and that you cannot go back and recapture what once existed. And the ending is certainly a bleak one that argues that we get caught in desperate cycles of trying to control and fix our pasts and futures. But what it also applauds is thorough and dedicated goodness, as well as the benefit of attentiveness and listening. Dale was goodness incarnate, but he didn’t listen as he should have. Perhaps we can make things better, perhaps we can help others and overcome evil. But we have to listen to do that. We can’t strip away the experiences of others, but we can listen and learn from them. The reason the ending was so dark was because of Dale’s flaw - that he didn’t learn this.

The Return has been about learning and about listening. It is a testament to understanding and appreciating the world around us, and loving each other enough to hear what they tell us. We shouldn’t give up. We should pay better attention. We should listen to what those in pain tell us. We should do as the log lady told us and listen to the trees blowing and the river flowing. We might never find answers that will satisfy us entirely, but we can pursue these questions, we can behold the mystery, and in this, we can try and make things better. And if we listen and look closely enough, we might just find a light shining in those darkest of nights. 

Thoughts on Stranger Things Characters


Eleven AKA El AKA Jane Hopper My personal favorite character. Can we just take a moment to appreciate all the emotional scenes! I mean she has such little dialogue but manages to make me have all the feels! Eleven is just so badass, I though her story line “finding a home” was really well written and I just love how she is a mix of terrifying and adorable. Like every time she enters a scene (especially that intro in the final episode) it feels really intense and legendary.

Lucas Sinclair Okay I really liked Lucas’ chemistry with Max! He was just so adorable with his nervousness. His character is really opinionated and I love that. His sass is on point.

Max Hargrove AKA Madmax Wow I really liked her from the beginning! I mean she’s just so feisty and has a really strong personality. I think her backstory is really well written and it really make me feel for the character. If you didn’t think she was awesome in the scene where she speaks up to her brother with the bat then you a liar, she had me shook! I vote she be a part of their crew.

Will Byers I honestly thought Noah (the actor) did a AMAZING job at being all creepy spy possessed. I felt like I got to know his character a little more since he wasn’t a huge part of season 1. I really connect with how his character struggles with being different. I also love his drawing talent its freakin awesome.

Mike Wheeler Mike just gave me all the feels, his sadness over El is heartbreaking. Finn (the actor) did a great job of showing his inner pain in all the scenes and how it was something he really struggles with. I liked how his character didn’t act like everything is okay you can see how he is still broken up about losing El.

Dustin Henderson Gosh saying you hate dustin is like saying you hate puppies. I mean he just always brings a smile to my face. His smile is the cutest thing I have ever seen. I love how sweet he is, breaking all those masculinity stereotypes that are total bullshit. When he’s at the dance in the finale and he’s crying I just want to cry. He’s just so precious and committed to his friends.

Steve Harrington Okay I gotta admit I go back and forth with Steve but I think season 2 really gave his character more depth. I love how he helps out even though he and nancy aren’t a thing anymore. And you can really see how deep down he’s a good guy at heart. Him helping dustin out was really cute. 

Jonathan Byers Jonathan is amazing, I love how supportive of nancy he is, he’s just completely trusts her judgement. I also love how much he cares about his family, its something I really admire.

Nancy Wheeler Okay the main reason I like nancy is her persistence and determination, I mean the girl just runs into danger and is brave as hell.

Joyce Byers MOM OF THE YEAR I totally thought it was badass how far she would go to protect her family, you just know she would do anything for her boys.

Jim Hopper I thought season 2 did a great job of giving me more insight into who this guy is :) Him and El are really well written, I though they were a interesting dynamic. I love how much he cares about protecting the people he loved, he’s a lot like Joyce in that way.

Bob Newby Okay he was just such a cheeseball, at first I was like hmmm…He’s kinda annoying but I was so wrong he was a adorable dork and I was really sad when he died

First of all I think Stranger Things is the only show where I honestly love all the characters. Can I also just say all these actors are freakin’ phenomenal! Was it just me or were you really impressed with the emotional scenes!

broccolissoup  asked:

20. I don't want to have a baby.

submit a line from this, the generator, or just make something up and I’ll write it!

“I don’t want to have a baby.” Draco says, so quietly he almost can’t hear it himself. Harry stills in his spot in the center of living room. He is cross-legged in a sea of pamphlets on adoption and magical surrogacy that have fanned themselves out across their coffee table and have strewn themselves across the sofa and floor. In the midst of all the papers and books and several half-finished, forgotten cups of tea, sits Harry Potter. And Harry Potter looks like he’s about to cry and fuck, Draco thinks that he has never hated himself more.

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Back to the Past (Hamilton x Reader) 4

Words: tbh does anyone even care lol

Tags:  @ghcstflower @mehrmonga @princessoftrash1234 @theamazingfeministunicorn@caswhatareyoudoingstahp @fanagelbagel @the-founding-fuckboys @batgurl32467@21phantasticromances @live-to-the-fullest18 @looneylovegoodx @onelastfic @sbobsessions @gonnamurderyou @goldensabriel @chvck-shvrley @insane-hamilton-imagines @justfangirlingaround

Warnings: nonneeeee

A/N: sorry i am taking so long to update, you know me (or well, you should know me by now) anywhoo, this was really fun to write and i hope you like it

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

She guided the five of you into a small room, with a round table. You were nervous, your hands shaking. It’s not like magic was not discussed in your time, it was just not real. And the fact that she knew your name scared you, a lot. Hamilton looked over at you, noticing your trembling. He touched your hand, squeezing your fingers.

I’m here. He mumbled to you, giving you a sideways smile. His arm brushed against yours. You smiled back, turning to look back at the woman.

Her hair was long, almost reaching the floor. It was a strange color, a dark blue, with flicks of blonde. You got a sick feeling in your gut, and you felt like something was wrong. She did not look familiar, but you felt like she was untrustworthy, like you should run away. But the boys wanted to help you, and this was the best shot that you could take. It was your only chance on getting home and seeing your family and friends again. 

And finally take a hot shower.

She grabbed some mixtures, and passed a small mug to each of us. Lafayette sniffed it, his nose wrinkling in disgust. Laurens coughed, pushing it farther away from him. Mulligan looked into his, his eyes widening. You let go of Hamilton’s hands, looking at the puke green substance in yours. Hamilton’s was a bright blue, contrasting to yours.

“Not to be rude, but, what is this?” Laurens asked, eyeing his cup. The woman laughed, drinking hers quickly.

“It allows me to read whatever might come your way. This is a way for me to find out how Miss Y/N can get back home. Please, drink. It will not harm you.” The way she said her last words, made you slightly suspicious. You hesitated, looking at the color. Why did each of you get a different liquid? Shouldn’t it all be the same?

“I, how do I know if I can trust you?” You asked her.

“The lady seems trustworthy to me!” Mulligan said, the first to drink his. You widened your eyes, and he burped, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. His was red, staining the blue he wore. Lafayette looked at his friend, then at you. He drank his soon after, not making as much of a mess as Mulligan. Laurens did so, and Hamilton looked at you, drinking his. The woman looked at you, gesturing for you to drink yours.

You held your nose, drinking it on one go. It tasted like copper being poured down your throat. It was extremely cold, and you shivered, placing the cup on the table. The woman looked at all of you, smiling.

“The reason there was separate drinks for all of you, was to match your personality. Laurens’s was for Ambition, Hamilton’s was for Intelligence, Lafayette’s was for Valiance and Mulligan’s was for Meticulous. You, Y/N, was for Humility.” You still felt like she was not truthful. None of this makes any sense, and she’s not helping you. It seems more like she’s tricking you.

You looked over at Hamilton for confirmation on your feelings, but he was staring at her intently, not questioning anything. You felt your negative feelings slowly slip away, and you panicked. She looked at you, smirking.

“Miss Y/N, do you have something to say?” You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. You held your neck, confused. What the hell did she give you? “Now, everyone, I have to ask you a few questions. Hamilton, since you have met Y/N, have you believed her to speak the truth?”

You looked at Hamilton, and he seemed to be in a dream-like state, not even glancing your way. “I was confused, when I first met Y/N. I thought she was some sort of escort, but after speaking to her for a few minutes, I knew she was truthful. I trust her with every fiber in my being. I, I do not want her to leave, but if that is what she wants, then it must be done.” Your heart swelled at his confession. He wanted you to stay.


Your voice was still stuck, unable to say anything. You wondered why she did this to you all, since they were in fact cooperating. The woman then turned to Mulligan, a smirk on her face.

“What about you, Mulligan? How do you feel about Y/N?” She dropped the miss from your name quickly, her fingers tapping on the table. You tried lunging out of your chair, but to no avail, your bottom stuck to the seat. Mulligan laughed, looking directly at you. You hoped that he wasn’t in a trance like the rest of the boys, but when his eyes met yours, they were glazed over.

“Y/N is one of the most beautiful women I have ever met. Why would I not trust her? She is captivating. But I see the way she looks at Hamilton, I know she would not look at me the same. I’m not giving up, though.” He puffed out his chest, winking at you once. Your eyes widened. Mulligan liked you?

“Lafayette?” The woman asked, a grin appearing on her face. She was amused, listening to these men speak against their will. It was entertainment to her. You shaped your hands into fists, glaring at her. She barely glanced your way.

“Miss Y/N? She is interesting woman, very much. I, I am giving my trust to her.” He smiled. Even in the state that he was in, he still spoke broken English.

“Laurens? Last but not least?”

“Ahh, Y/N? I consider her my best friend already! She’s funny, she’s snarky, and she’s smart! Who wouldn’t trust her? She even believes in my idea to make the first black battalion!” He grinned, his smile from cheek to cheek.

The woman finally looked at you, pulling her hair back against her shoulder. “So, Y/N, it seems you have grabbed all of these handsome men, huh? You’ve barely known them for little over a day. What did you do?” She willed you to speak, and you were finally able to, glaring at her.

“Who do you think you are? Manipulating them this way? They just came to help me, no need to make them spill their guts.” She rolled her eyes at your spoken word, standing up from her chair.

“Oh, you poor child. Is this not how it works in the future? If you want something, you must give something in return. How about it?” She wiggled her eyebrows at you.

“What makes you think I would give anything to you?” She laughed manically, her grin seeming to break her face. You tensed up, unsure. Mulligan dragged all of you into this mess, and you had no idea what you were dealing with. Honestly, you were just saying what a hero would say on movies that you watch. It seemed to work, though.

“Since I have you friends stuck in this state. So are you, by the way. I can make you talk, and I can stop it. Now, are you willing to pay for the information?” You debated in your head. You looked at all the boys, then looked at Hamilton next to you. He had a small smile on his face, but his eyes were empty, his personality gone. You couldn’t leave them like this, you had to help them. They came here to assist you on getting home, and they did not need this in their lives. They deserved more.

“What do you want me to do?” You asked, and she nodded slowly.

“I’ll give you a clue on getting home, and, in return, I’ll make Alexander Hamilton slowly hate you. It’ll start as soon as I give you the cure for them. You have to see him hate every piece of you, hate everything you touch and everyone you encounter.” She grinned.

“Why? How could this help you? Why do you want this?”

“Because, I want you to suffer. I want you to feel what I felt, when you did the same to me.” She sneered, an evil spark in her eye. You stared at her, more confused than ever. Who is she? You just met her today, what could you possibly do to hurt her?

But the way she stared at you, the way she looked at you as if you two had a history, made you think otherwise.

“Did we meet before?” She laughed, giving you a small bottle. You looked inside, seeing a clear liquid. Before you could ask anything else, she disappeared, leaving you alone with the three men. You gave the substance to the men. They blinked, rubbing their heads. Hamilton was the first to stare at you, confused.

“What happened, Y/N? How did we get here?” She was right, they did not remember a thing.

“We were just taking a walk, and you brought me here. Mulligan said that he knew someone that could help me, but we walked in, and no one was here.” You glanced around the room, seeing nothing but empty shelves and broken furniture. The only thing that was the same was the table in front of you.

Mulligan dragged himself over to the two of you, rubbing his temple. “This headache is killing me. Let’s go back to camp, before Washington really tears us a new one.”

“Agreed.” Lafayette said, patting Laurens on the shoulder. Laurens groaned, and you all walked out the house, closing the door behind you.

You put the container you had in your pocket, walking alongside Hamilton. He was standing with a foot between the two of you, completely different from when you all were sitting at the table. You wondered if this was just the beginning of the spiral that the two of you would go through. You looked at Hamilton’s face, and gave him a smile. He gave you a small nod, the smile on his face unseen.

Your heart was in your throat, and you turned away from him.

The five of you made it back to the camp quickly, making it just before six in the morning. The boys ran off to their tents to change into their uniforms, and you stayed behind, sitting outside Hamilton’s tent. You wanted to talk to him, you wanted to see if the curse that that witch said was true, but he seemed to avoid you, like the day before was just another.

Mulligan still joked with you as much as before, and you clung to him instead, ignoring the ache in your heart. After a few days of silence and quiet tents, Hamilton sighed, looking at you sitting on the makeshift bed. He didn’t bother moving you like he did before.

“Y/N?” He said, finally speaking to you after a week. He dropped the miss right after he woke from the magic, and you pretended that he just actually listened to your requests. You jumped at the opportunity, smiling at him.

“Yes?” You asked.

“Did you ever think about moving to the other men’s tents? It’s not like we are friends, and you have grown to be quite a nuisance.” Your smile faltered, looking at him. He looked annoyed, different from the man you met not too long ago.

You looked at your hands. “I have not bothered you this whole time, Hamilton. I’ve stayed quiet, I haven’t said a word. And even if I tried, you’d just ignore me.” He placed his quill on the side, staring at you.

“We have not found any clues on how to get you home. Making casual conversation is pointless, since you may be gone any day now. There is no purpose in me being kind to you, even if you are beautiful. I am attracted to intellect, not looks.” You twitched, unable to hide your frown.

You knew this was just all in his head, that this lady (who did not give you a clue to get you home yet) has done, but it hurt. He was so much kinder to you in the beginning, and seeing this side of him, it just, it hurt. “You know what, fine. I’m leaving.” You grabbed the clothes that you borrowed from him, and began walking out. Before you left, Hamilton called to you. You turned back, looking at you. He gestured towards the clothes in your hand.

“I may need those later, Y/N. You can give them back now.” You glared at him, throwing the clothes in his face. It almost touched the lit candle on the desk, and he widened his eyes. “You, you almost burned down my whole tent!”

“Good riddance.” You mumbled, walking out. You hoped he didn’t see the tears staining your cheeks.

Blind To Reality


Requested by: Anonymous
(Here are the specifics)

Pairing: Reader x Bucky
Word Count: 2.3K
Warnings: Angst, fluff

A/N: Based off of All In My Head by Tori Kelly

Italics are the past

Your heart beats fast as you near the bar, tonight was the night; you were finally going to tell your best friend how you felt. You’ve been crushing on Bucky Barnes for 4 years now; you knew the moment he introduced himself, in your freshman History of Art lecture, that you were done for. And you’d been right, the more time the two of you spent together, the harder you fell for him. But he had no idea; not yet.

Your eyes scan the bar, searching through the crowd of college students for the face that took your breath away. You spot Bucky, and your face immediately lights up. You’re about to wave to get his attention and join him at the small table, but then you notice that he isn’t alone. You can’t see her face, but the woman had shoulder length red hair, and - from what you could see - a petite body. Your heart sinks as he tilts his head back to let out a laugh, presumably at something she’d said.

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Happy Birthday Everlart!

Originally posted by superiorgirls1


Happy Birthday @everlart! We here at @everlarkbirthdaydrabbles hope that you’ve had a fantastic day. Here’s a little gift for you, penned by the always amazing @javistg!

A Knock at the Door

AN: Happy birthday! Hope you’re having an amazing day :)

“Soon after I go to bed, there’s a quiet knock on my door, but I ignore it. I don’t want Peeta tonight. Especially not with Darius around.”

CF p220

Canon divergent. What if Katniss had opened the door?

Dinner goes by in a blur. Katniss pushes her peas around her plate and struggles with the fact that the avox standing next to her is none other than Darius.

After dinner, she wedges herself between Haymitch and Cinna to watch the recap of the Quarter Quell’s opening ceremonies. Her heart sinks as she follows her competition on the screen. The parade of aging victors looks pitiful in her eyes.

With a quick goodbye, Katniss heads back to her room and gets ready for bed.

She’s already tucked in for the night when she hears a quiet knock on her door. Peeta.

Her first instinct is to ignore him. To hide under the covers and hope her district partner goes away.

But, as she burrows deep into the blankets, she’s hit by how mad she still is at him for laughing at her, for betraying her to the other victors by joining in their mockery and ridicule.

Suddenly, the burning anger which has been simmering inside her all night takes over. With a determined huff, she jumps out of bed and rushes to open the door.

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The Joker x Reader - “Broken”

After you got shot in the head you were in a coma for a while. When you woke up you were quite broken and The Joker doesn’t like broken things. Getting rid of you seems like the perfect solution.

The Joker immediately turned when he heard the gunshot. You felt the sharp pain for a split second before you blacked out. J opened his mouth in disbelief, wanting to say something but for once he was speechless. He just stood there, stunned, watching Frost as he killed the security guard being heroic enough to attempt a small rebellion on his own.

“WHAT…THE FUCK??!!” The Joker’s voice finally echoed in the building while stomping towards you. Some of the hostages on the floor whimpered in fear, knowing that it won’t end well after what just happened.

“I thought you were watching everybody!” he pointed at his henchmen, mad as hell, kneeling so that he can turn you around. J saw the nasty bleeding head wound and he lost it:

“Kill everybody!! NOW!!!!” He lifted you and your arms went limp, hanging down on the sides of your body. “God dammit! Frost, let’s go, you drive!!” Blood started soaking his purple coat and he squeezed you closer to him, trying to wake you up.

“Hey, Princess, open your eyes! Open your eyes!“ No answer came and he took a deep breath, grinding his teeth, not even discerning the screams coming from the slaughter happening behind him.

He got in the back of the van with you and realized he wasn’t even wearing a shirt that night.

“Frost, give me your jacket!” he impatiently demanded and wrapped it around your head as soon as he got it. Jonny started driving and the Joker kept on wiping the blood off your face with his bare hands, not realizing he got all over his cheeks and hair too. “Baby doll, can you hear me? Don’t make Daddy mad; open your eyes, hm?”  he kept on trying to reason with you, nervously biting his lips.

“Where to, Boss?” Frost shouted, driving so fast he was afraid he will get unwanted attention, the last thing that was needed that night.

“Our doctor, Frosty, where else???!! “ The Joker snapped back at him, irritated about the question. “I don’t care who else we need to get, I want her fixed!… I don’t like…b-broken things…” he muttered the last words to himself, stammering with anxiety, still trying to clean you up.

*** You were in surgery for 10 hours. It was a clean wound, the bullet wasn’t inside: it pierced the left side of your head, above your ear, slightly under the skin surface which was very lucky but still created quite a lot of damage and brain hemorrhage. The best doctors that Gotham’s underworld uses were brought in to help you. J didn’t care about the money they asked or the supplies needed. What was he going to do with all his possessions if his Queen was dead?  It wouldn’t matter, it would be no fun.

The Joker was told there was no way to know when you will wake up or if there will be any nerve damage following your recovery. They didn’t have the courage to tell him you might never wake up. Afterwards, you were taken to the penthouse and one of the spare bedrooms was transformed into your own medical ward. The doctors took turns in coming and checking up on you, changing your bandages, updating your IV medications and the blood tests were coming back pretty good, except for the fact that you wouldn’t wake up.

Since J couldn’t sleep without you, he moved the bed in the master bedroom to your room, this way he could at least doze off for a few hours. All those beeping noises from those machines you were hooked at annoyed him to death but he learned to ignore them after a few days.

The Joker talked to you all the time, sometimes falling asleep waiting for an answer that never came. Most of the times he was answering for you.

* “Hey, Y/N, do you remember when you told me you were pregnant and I panicked, almost pushed you off the balcony? Lucky you told me you were joking before I did it, huh? “ and he started laughing maniacally, ending it with a deep growl, pleased at the memory. “Good times, Doll…”

* “Oh my God, I’m so bored!” He would roll his blue eyes in your face.” Would you wake up, Pumpkin? Let’s have some fun, I’ll take you for a ride. Wanna blow up something? Hmmm? Deal?” J cupped your face, caressing it with his thumbs until he got fed up with that too. “Jeez, Doll, why are you doing this to me?” he would finally rest his head on your tummy, pouting, not liking the fact that you were still like that after 3 weeks.

* “Princess, do you remember when I got angry and I shot you in the leg and you stabbed me? You were soooo pissed,” he snickered, kissing your hand. “We almost killed each other that day.” His crazy laughter filled the room again. “Ahhhh, good times, Doll…” he sighed, delighted at that treasured remembrance.

* J thought you need more tattoos, it was about time he gave you another one. He tattooed “Wake Up” all around your right hand wrist, like a bracelet, and a lot of “I love J” and “Sleepy Head” going up your arm just like bracelet charms . “You like it, Pumpkin?” he brought it closer to your face and when you didn’t react he just replied, proud of himself: “I think I did really good.”

* He pushed the girl he brought from the club inside and she was so scared she was shaking like a leaf.

“ Y/N, if you don’t wake up in 5 seconds, I’m getting a new girlfriend!” J shove her right on your bed. “ 5,4,3,2… 2 and a half…1…one and a half…Doll, come on!!!… Zero!”  Nothing. “Get the hell out of here!” he pushed the girl and she run out of the room so fast she almost fell when she opened the door. “Shit, that didn’t work,” he passed his fingers through his green hair, sulking. Another week went by.

* The Joker brought in a target matt and hanged it on the wall in front of you. He liked to place his gun in your hand, holding it with his, aim and shoot at the target. “Perfect, Y/N, this way you don’t lose practice. You’re such a good girl,” he would kiss your knuckles, smiling and then frowning when he realized you didn’t even know he was there.

* First time you opened your eyes was after 4 more weeks. It was late at night and J was on his laptop,still awake, looking at all the naughty pics you always sent him. He noticed the movement and jumped out of bed, not really believing you’re awake.

“Jesus, Princess, it was about time! I’m sooo horny,” he whispered in your ear and grinned when he noticed your chest going up and down in a silent, faint laughter.

“…My… poor… baby…” you barely uttered, struggling to reach his pale face and he purred, relieved, firmly holding your shaky fingers on his cheek since you couldn’t do it on your own. “…What…happened?…”


At first, you had a really hard time using your left side of the body. You had bad days and good days. On your bad days you used one of J’s canes to walk around. He used to hide it and watch you struggle, scoffing:

“You don’t need a cane, Doll. Just walk, you’re fine!”

You held on to the wall, fighting really hard to keep your balance.

“I do need it, give it back!”

“Nope,” he simply stated, observing you from the couch until you got to your old room where he still kept the target matt so you can practice shooting again. It almost brought you to tears when you kept on missing; such an embarrassment for a skilled assassin. But it was so hard to control your left hand that kept on trembling. The Joker always sneaked to watch you since you kept the door opened and it made him uneasy to see you were so distressed. And it made him even tenser when he noticed he still liked his broken Doll.

First time you were able to have sex again after your recovery was… challenging. (And to be honest, many more times afterwards.)

He started complaining after 5 minutes :

“Christ, Y/N, your hand is twitching around my neck, it’s freaking me out! Stop it!” and he kissed you again, annoyed.

“Well, baby, I can’t control it, you know that! Especially when I get…excited,” you panted, adjusting your head on the pillow.

“Why are you excited?” J snickered. “Hey, keep your legs around my waist, you know I like it,” he moaned in your ear, kissing his way down your neck.

“I can’t, my left leg keeps on sliding down, I can’t even feel it anymore. I’m sorry, baby,” you arched your back, giggling, amused on how worked up he was about it.

“Can you get on your knees, Doll?”

“I doubt it,” you fakely sobbed, wanting him to shut up and make love to you.

“Can you get on top of me?”

A snarl coming from you gave him the answer.

“Can we do it against the wall?”

You slapped his side, aggravated.

“Jeez, woman, what can you do?!” You covered his mouth, impatient.

“I’m just gonna lay here, ok? That’s all I can offer for now. I’m…helpless so you can totally take advantage of me,” you winked, uncovering his lips so you can kiss him.

“Hmm, I never took advantage of a …ummm…incapacitated person before,” The Joker smirked, suddenly liking the idea.

“Good, because I thought you like challenges,” you laughed, content he is finally satisfied.

“Ohhh, Daddy never backs out from a challenge, Pumpkin,” he gave you that devilish look and pulled your hair while pinning your hands above your head. “This way you don’t freak me out with your twitchy hand.”

“Jerk…” you moaned, lifting your head so you can kiss his Jester tattoo.

“You wait until you see what Daddy has in store for you and then we’ll talk about it…yes?” he closed his eyes, enjoying feeling you again. It made him so ecstatic.


After 3 more months you are better, but not fully recovered.

He tosses his gun on the floor and urges you to get it.

“Come on, Princess, be sexy for me. Bend over and grab that gun! I’ll pay you!” and he pushes the pile of hundred dollars from his desk on the floor.
“Are you serious?” you lift your gaze from your phone, not knowing if he meant it or not. You’ve been fighting a lot recently and his behavior towards you changed.

“Yes, do it,” he hums, putting the map aside and rolling away on his chair so he can see you better.

“ ‘Kaaayyyy,” you do as asked, and half way through your left leg gives out and you land on your knees.

“Wow, that’s pathetic!” he hisses, and you feel your face burning. “Seriously, I don’t even know why I keep you around: you’re crippled, you can’t kill for me, you’re not great in bed anymore and I’m sick of waiting for you to recover. As you are fully aware, I don’t like broken things, hence it’s time for you to go,” J barks at you and you just watch him, stunned.

“W-what are you talking about?! I’m so much better and I am getting better. I AM NOT crippled!” you almost yell, struggling to get on your feet, not understanding what’s going on.

“You’re useless, that’s what you are!” The Joker raises his voice, having a hard time controlling his temper. “I want you out of here!”

“Are you serious?!” you ask, furrowing your eyebrows, thinking about his cold behavior lately. That’s why, he’s just sick of you.   “After…all these years?”

He sarcastically grunts, crossing his arms on his chest:

“Is that supposed to mean anything to me?! OUT! Don’t make me repeat myself; you can stay tonight so you can sort out the things you want to take.”

“I…I don’t need anything, I have my own stuff,” you reply, backing out slowly, trying to swallow the lump in your throat and maintain your equilibrium.

“God, you’re soooo pitiful, still can’t control your body. How am I even supposed to be with someone like you?! The King of Gotham needs perfection, not trash.”

You gasp, feeling your heart beating faster and faster.

“I am the Queen of Gotham, with or without you, not trash!”  

“Used to be Queen, Doll, now look at you: just another lost cause. Don’t test my patience, get out of here.” He points out towards the elevator.  “ Awwww, are those tears? You never cry. I told you you’re pathetic and broken, this proves what I just said.”

You shake your head, turning around and limping towards the elevator, tripping on the carpet because your bad leg is misbehaving. You hear him laugh:
“Ha!Ha!Ha!Ha! So useless!”

You swallow your tears all the way down when your cell rings. You see it’s your informant and you answer right away:

“When Mister J is going to his “Savage” club tonight, it will be an ambush: Sully’s men; they’ll try to kill him. Pass the word.”

“Thank you, Axel,” you mumble, turning off your phone and placing back in your pocket.

I am not telling him anything, the jerk deserves anything coming his way! You decide as you reach the basement’s garage and the elevator’s door open. Let them kill him.


First thing you do when you get to your apartment is wash away the neon green highlights from your bright red hair. It makes you feel better until the little thoughts pop in your mind: “Are you going to let them kill him?”, “Yes, I don’t care.” “But…it’s J.” “I really don’t care; his men can protect him if they can.” “But…it’s J.”

“Ughhhh,” you cover your face with the small pillow, attempting to erase any feelings you might have from your conscience. “But…it’s J…Come on, it’s J…” the idea keeps on repeating and echoing in your mind until you get up from the loveseat, exasperated.

“Shit, fine, I’m going, just shut the hell up!” you admonish yourself, looking in the mirror. “The asshole doesn’t deserve me…” you conclude, getting the duffle bag with your rifle out of the closet.


You go and place yourself on the top of the tallest building, about half a mile away from “Savage”. You watch everything through the scope, but so far nothing out of place. Your left hand is shaky again and you put so much effort into controlling it you’re starting to sweat. “Not now, please” you reason with your weak side of the body, cracking your neck. Another two hours pass by and you finally see The Joker’s Lamborghini approaching followed by 3 SUV’s.

You wipe your forehead and concentrate more, looking around carefully as he parks and gets out of the car. Suddenly, you see the four men in black suits, wearing running shoes and you know it’s them: Sully’s men trademark attire. They approach from different angles and you wait until they are fairly close to the Joker and his henchmen. They noticed the assassins too and surrounded J, protecting him. He takes out his gun, waiting, and he watches as suddenly one by one they fall to the ground, their brains splattered on the concrete.

He lifts his eyes, searching the buildings around as his goons get him to his car so he can safely leave. Three more assassins start running towards his Lamborghini and you shot again, the last one collapsing right in front of the Joker’s car. He looks up, but he sure doesn’t have the right building you’re on top of. He knows it’s you and bites on his cheek, growling, taking off with his men before the cops show up.

You wipe your forehead, exhausted, resting your head on the trigger:

“I’m not pathetic and broken.”     Did you want to prove that to him or yourself? Probably both.


J drove straight back to the penthouse, laying low for the rest of the night. He gets in bed, trying to sleep and can’t because you’re not there. He looks at your empty side of the bed and moves over, burring his face in your pillow-it smells like you. Another hour and he’s still awake, tossing and turning.

“I don’t like broken things,” he whispers, opening his eyes just to see your items scattered all over the bedroom since you didn’t take anything with you. It really makes uncomfortable realizing he feels the exact opposite of not liking you. Or so he believes.

“I really don’t like broken things,” he gets mad, exasperated, forcing himself not to think of anything.


The sound of your cane hitting the wood floor startles you and you wake up, leaning over so you can reach and turn on the lamp. You see The Joker kicking it again, and again.

“Stupid piece of crap!” he shouts, his green hair all over his face.

“What are you doing here?!” you rub your eyes, not glad to see him at all. “Get out!”

He just comes over and yanks at your hand:

“Let’s go, Doll, you’re coming back, I can’t sleep without you.”

“Screw you!” you pull back, upset he broke into your apartment and has the nerve to act like nothing happened.

“Yes, you can do that too, you naughty girl, I know you can’t wait,” he tries to yank you away again.

The evil glare you give him makes him stop and he regains his posture, sighing:

“You’re coming back; you know I can’t sleep without you.”

“I don’t care!!!!” you cover your body with the blanket like it’s going to help any. He sees your watery eyes and decides to drop it.

“Fine, then I’ll sleep here.” He goes around the bed and gets under the blanket, scooting over so he can be close to you. “Now shut up, I have to sleep, I’m tired as hell!” He places his head on your pillow, waiting for you to get down and join him. You watch him with indignation, sniffling, and kick him:

“Get out of my apartment!”

The Joker ignores your behavior and decides to talk with his eyes closed:

“I don’t like broken things…”
“I’m not a broken thing you presumptuous …” you start your rant, getting ready to kick him again when he interrupts:

“…but you’re my favorite thing. Good, I thought that would shut you up,” he grins, forcefully pulling you in his arms as you struggle to escape. “Ahhhhh, I like it when you’re feisty. Queens are feisty…” he nuzzles in your hair for a few seconds then pecs your lips and holds you tighter. “Don’t think I didn’t notice your green highlights are gone. They’ll be back first thing in the morning, got it?”

“You can’t tell me what to do!” you try to make a comeback but he cuts you short again:

“The hell I can’t! Now shut up, I’m so worn out,” he gets your left leg around his waist and holds it, this way you’re glued to him. “There, I know you can’t hold it yourself.”

When you don’t answer he opens one eye and sees you stare at him with that hurt expression on your face that makes him uneasy.

“Stop it, Pumpkin, I really need to rest,” J kisses your forehead and you whimper, upset:

“You’re such a jerk.”

“Pffft,” he scoffs, “is that supposed to be news to me? Now zip it and I mean it,” he scolds you, annoyed.

“Jerk…” you faintly mumble before closing your eyes.

He just smiles, knowing he will finally be able to doze off.