i do this because i must do everything my sister tells me

Katara: It’s not magic. It’s waterbending, and it’s-
Sokka: Yeah, yeah, an ancient art unique to our culture, blah blah blah. Look, I’m just saying that if I had weird powers, I’d keep my weirdness to myself. 

So I wanted to talk a little about Katara, because I think we often focus on her grief for her mother, and forget her relationship to her culture, and her experience of the Southern Water Tribe genocide (unlike the Air Nomads genocide, which was for the greater part over after four big terrifyingly effective simultaneous strikes, this one took place over a long length of time - more than 40 years? 50? - and it wasn’t total, but it definitely was one. genocide = the deliberate and systematic extermination of a national, racial, political, or cultural group, fwiw)

(Kanna’s village - before and after)

All of the Southern water benders were exterminated or taken away to rot in prison (where they all died eventually except for Hama). Katara was born the only bender left in the whole South Pole. Then when she was eight years old, she survived a raid that was meant to kill her, but took her mother instead (she probably was too young to realize that, to her it must have been a question mark up until she met Yon Rha - gratuitous cruelty? Why her mother in particular? They took nothing else!).

So Katara from a young age had a double burden to bear: that of her mother, and the legacy of her bending (and she was shown as painfully aware of her situation and what it meant on both front). But here’s the thing: Katara could be a mother, she was naturally good at it, and her grandmother could teach her what she didn’t already knew. Her family and tribe demanded that of her, they needed her to be that for them (especially after her father and the rest of the men basically abandoned them). However, there was no one left to teach her how to waterbend - she had almost no hope of ever becoming a master without formal training, her brother thought it was silly and weird and let her know, her grandmother thought it was a waste of time. But she kept practicing, because she knew how important it was, to her and to her tribe, that she kept trying (as the only one left who could).

(…an ancient art unique to our culture, blah blah blah…)

(Of course she would obsess over that waterbending scroll)

When she gets to the North Pole, she meets Pakku, and with him the opportunity of finally becoming a true master. But because she is a girl, he judges her unworthy. He judges her, the only remaining southern waterbender, unworthy of carrying on their culture. The Fire Nation didn’t care about the gender of their prisoners, men and women - they all fought side by side for their freedom in the South, and they were all taken away to the last one, and killed to the last one. In the South, the women had the choice to learn how to fight, or be defenseless. And privileged master Pakku couldn’t possible realize the extend of what he was denying her in that moment.

Katara had to prove herself, she had to earn her right to these teachings. And if she had been less good or less stubborn or not Kanna’s granddaughter - well the North would have refused their sister-tribe the power to use their common cultural heritage to fight back against the nation that destroyed them.

(It’s sexist and terrible.)

Meh, thankfully, she was that good, stubborn, and Kanna’s granddaughter, and she did get to become a master.

Good.

But, of course, her story doesn’t end here, and wrt her culture, the next chapter is a much more traumatizing experience. In the Fire Nation, she meets another master. This time it’s an old woman from the South like her (“You’re a waterbender! I’ve never met another waterbender from our tribe!”), and she is, ah, more than willing to help her.

Look how happy Katara looks at the idea to learn from her in particular:

Katara: I can’t tell you what it means to meet you. It’s an honor! You’re a hero.
Hama: I never thought I’d meet another southern waterbender. I‘d like to teach you what I know so that you can carry on the southern tradition when I’m gone.
Katara: Yes! Yes, of course! To learn about my heritage… it would mean everything to me.

But when Hama starts her lesson, the techniques she teaches have been obviously developed with one goal in mind: survival in enemy territory. They can’t possibly have been invented in the South Pole, where water is abundant everywhere. They are deadly and cruel, and the damage they do to the environment leaves Katara sad and uncomfortable, but Hama waves that off as unimportant. It doesn’t matter, she doesn’t have the time to worry about flowers or beauty or nature. To her that peace and beauty is probably just an illusion anyway, a lie: years after her escape she is still living the war, and war is ugly and rotten and messy (her world is ugly and rotten and messy - this is her comfort zone).

The last technique she teaches Katara is bloodbending. She forces Katara to learn something she finds disgusting, repulsive (just like Hama was forced to learn?) by torturing her (Hama was tortured), by overpowering her, invading her, making her lose control over her own body, bending her blood (Hama herself is clinging to the last remain of control she managed to get back after rotting in prison for years), and finally by threatening to have the two people she cares most about in the world kill each other right under her eyes (Hama lost everyone too, she had to say goodbye).

(Katara: But, to reach inside someone and control them? I don’t know if I want that kind of power.
Hama: The choice is not yours. The power exists…and it’s your duty to use the gifts you’ve been given to win this war. Katara, they tried to wipe us out, our entire culture… your mother!
Katara: I know.
Hama: Then you should understand what I’m talking about. We’re the last Waterbenders of the Southern Tribe. We have to fight these people whenever we can. Wherever they are, with any means necessary!
Katara: It’s you. You’re the one who’s making people disappear during the full moons.
Hama: They threw me in prison to rot, along with my brothers and sisters. They deserve the same. You must carry on my work.)

And this, this, is the only truly southern waterbending Katara is ever going to learn. This is her tribe’s bending heritage, what’s left of it: blood, grief, suffering, hatred, loss of control over both your body and mind (because it’s terrible, but I think that’s what’s implied by the show: bloodbending makes you lose your mind. Hama’s only mean of regaining physical freedom ended up trapping her in another nightmare). Hama gifts her with a power she despises (but will use anyway in her darkest hour when she loses control) and a philosophy of violence and revenge.

Katara chose peace and forgiveness. As an adult, she will have bloodbending outlawed, she will become the greatest healer in the world, and she’ll teach her daughter, the next avatar, probably many others. These choices matter, and we should talk about them with that background in mind. Katara redefined her heritage - or rather she created a new one for herself: she refused the condition that was forced upon her (bloodbender) and ensured nobody could legally do to someone else what Hama did to her (and it’s implied this law is valid anywhere in the world). She transmitted Pakku’s warrior teachings, the ones she fought for, to the next generations (and did a great job of it!), but she also taught them how to heal, refusing to separate the arts as in Northern Water Tribe tradition - and healing was something she discovered by herself, that she felt was always a part of her. At that, she became the universally acknowledged best. Her legacy, despite everything that happened to her, will never be one of violence.

tl;dr: Katara is one of the strongest fictional characters ever created bye

types as people i’ve met irl (infp pov)

ESFP

- in a constant loop between “you know what FUCK SOCIETY I WILL LIVE MY LIFE HOWEVER I WANT AND DO WHATEVER I WANT” and “i still lowkey want to please people around me and not cause too much conflict tho”

- that thing when an ESFP starts describing a situation and they play out all people in it and they do it SO GOOD and it’s SO FUNNY do they all do that

- at the centre of attention is where they will be

- somehow doesn’t exactly belong to any group but is considered a part of every group

- me: oh yesterday I’ve met /that person you have no chances of knowing/

ESFP: ooooOOOH I KNOW THEM

me: how

- is never home but somehow manages to sleep?????

ENFP

- BEST LITERARY TASTES. If ENFP tells you to read that book you go read that book I’m telling you

- “and they told me to do it but you know it’s stupid so i’m not gonna do it”

- can be super annoyed by people they love, but remains loyal to their group

- angry with all their body, vivid gestures included. generally they are moving all the time.

- somehow pretty charismatic and it looks like they feel easy in a leader position

- life isn’t a competition EXCEPT FOR WHEN IT IS

ESTP

- i know only one and they are the class president somehow??????

- “WHEN I SEE MY MOTHER CRY I’M READY TO KILL SOME FUCKERS RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW”

ENTP

- awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

- puns

- i mean puns, ready to write to you at 3 AM just to proudly write a pun they’ve just come up with

- oh no you are sad??? it’s okay they will bake cookies or smh

- the more personal conversation gets the more “lmao” there is

- you can say when they feel happy to be around you and it’s just so adorable

- they are so smart & try to act like they aren’t & everyone can see they are smart anyway so you failed, entp

- entp: i’m going to try doing that new thing and it will be awesome and i will love it!

entp, later: it sucks

entp, even more later: NO YOU KNOW IT WAS COOL ALL ALONG

- *drinks awful juice for the first time* *eats awful meal for the first time* “ohhh it’s… pretty good!”

- really happy to be a part of some group but won’t say it out loud

- “and it was THEN when my Fe destroyed me!!”

INFP

- looks pretty egocentric & has the lowest self-esteem around

- “if I don’t like it I won’t do it, it’s just that easy”

- they are all attention whores (me too, infps)

- w r i t i n g

ISTP

- SO LOYAL LIKE IF AN ISTP LIKES YOU THERE’S LIKE 0.000001% CHANCE THAT THEY WILL EVER LET YOU GO

- after reading this will probably try explaining to me why the math comparison was wrong and didn’t fit

- have such a hard time expressing their feelings

- if they like you and they can talk to you about their day they are so happy? just talk about what they were doing, really.

- “i feel bad? well i guess i will just bottle it up forever”

- can be rly rly quiet & needs a lot of alone time

- there’s objective logic everywhere just let me find it logic is my bitch

- they will be frustrated if you don’t make sense to them but they will try to understand - if not because they like you then at least for science reasons because “what is that wild creature and why do they act like that, i must observe”

- “sarcasm is the only way I speak”

INTP

- I LOVE

- when I start talking to an INTP the 7 hours long conversation is almost guaranteed

- they seem so genuinely interested in what you have to say and ask questions and stuff & what they say makes you genuinely interested as well because they have such an interesting knowledge on subjects you’ve never thought about

- “on the other side tho”

- puns

- on most subjects it’s really easy to convince them because they are always open to see the other side’s point of view

- usually remembers all you’ve told them but always asks if they remember correctly

- intp: OKAY I MADE UP MY MIND

intp, a day later: ON THE OTHER SIDE,

- “look at that dog!”

- mood swings

- so adorable just let me hug them all

INFJ

- takes care of your shit since you’ve met them

- “NO YOU KNOW WHAT. I’M NOT DOING THIS SHIT FOR THEM THIS TIME. THEY WILL HAVE TO MANAGE IT ON THEIR OWN. I’M DONE HELPING THEM. *does this shit for them because of course they won’t manage it on their own so someone has to*”

- saves the world since they were born

- will try to help, joke about how they failed to help, beat themselves internally over how they failed to help

- OKAY TIME FOR ANOTHER SELF-DEPRACATING JOKE

- you: *starts feeling bad*

INFJ, a second later, out of nowhere: hey are you okay?

- MAKES PLANS. SO MANY PLANS. HOW CAN YOU MANAGE ALL THESE PLANS.

- “i’ve been planning on reading/watching it one day since 2004 but I haven’t found any time since then”

- “my Fe can tolerate your stupidity but my Ni-Ti is so done”

- always done with humanity

- *snarky commentary*

ISTJ

- “so usually when I wake up I have a strict plan of how this day is going to look like and it’s extremely pissing off when something doesn’t go according to that plan”

- ISTJ: *is doing homework for ten hours*

me: do you maybe want to—

ISTJ: NO I WON’T COPY OFF YOUR HOMEWORK I’M NOT WEAK

- somehow really wants to show you that you are important to them, even if they are awkward with feelings

- that smile they have when they talk about people they love doing stuff

- also that excited voice they have while doing so

- “I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND. HOW CAN YOU JUST… NOT BE PREPARED.”

- their anger is so cold and so visible

- some values are not to be touched!

INTJ

- really really REALLY cares about people they like

- is really sensitive for their loved ones’ pain and really awkward when trying to comfort them but boy do they try

- that person that will come back for you after the group wanders off and you are left behind

- INTJ, about really hard situations they’ve been through: “this wasn’t such a big deal tho, I mean eh, it’s over now”

- “HOW CAN PEOPLE BE SO STUPID I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND”

- ignorance pisses them off even more than it pisses off other human beings

- it’s Monday and my INTJ dad calls me when I’m at school.

me: yeah?

INTJ: hey, I have something important to tell you.

me: sure, what?

INTJ: could you pick up [your sister] from school-

me: sure

INTJ: –on Friday?

- “you know I just… don’t like it when something doesn’t go according to my plan”

- will plan everything for the trip before you try helping

A Babysitting Love Affair | Zach Dempsey x Reader

Genre: Romance, Fluff
POV: Reader’s/First Person

A/N: This was requested by anon! I hope you guys will like this as much as my first one. I kind of ramble on but please bear with me lol.
Request: could i request a zach dempsey x reader where the reader is babysitting zach’s sister, and zach haven’t met the babysitter yet and one day he goes home early and falls in love with her?

—–

“I’ll be there tomorrow morning Mrs. Dempsey.”

“Alright love, thank you so much!”

I smile as I close the door after Zach’s mom who asked me to babysit Zach’s little sister, May. She mentioned that she will have to go to Chicago for the weekend to take care of something and I was assigned to be May’s companion overnight since her brother is an extremely busy guy. The Dempseys are a close family friend, too bad I’m not really that close with Zach or May. It’s probably because we go to different high schools and it doesn’t really help that I can be anti-social at times. I know nothing about them, and they know nothing about me in return so it’s all good.

—–

The next morning

“I’ll be leaving now or else I’ll miss my flight! Thank you so much again Y/N for babysitting. I’ll see you girls tomorrow morning alright? Feel at home love, my number’s on the fridge if you need me and I left money for any emergency. Zach won’t be here until dinner tonight. He has basketball practice.” Mrs. Dempsey says as she bids goodbye to Zach’s little sister and I.

“Got it Mrs. Dempsey! We’ll see you tomorrow.” I finally say with a smile.

“Bye mom! I’ll be good, I promise!” May puts her right thumb out to her mom and waves goodbye.

“So, what do you want to do today, May?” I ask her as we’re left alone inside the house.

“Hmm, I don’t really have anything in mind. Oh wait I know! Let’s style each other’s hair.” She suggests with a gleam in her eyes; she looked so excited.

“Sure kiddo.” I reply with a smile and we proceed to the living room to watch TV. May got all of her hair accessories from her room for us to use. She decided that it’d be fun to start with my hair first and put them in pigtails and so she did. She chose these pink puffy hair bands to tie my hair. May had long, black and shiny hair which reminded me of Katniss Everdeen so naturally, I chose to put her hair in a fish tail braid.

“Wow Y/N, you’re really good at this!” she beams after her make over.

“Why thank you, Miss Everdeen.” I reply with a bow and she giggles in response.

A couple of hours later and it was almost lunch time. May wanted to order pizza and so we did. She didn’t like vegetables so we opted for a classic cheese pizza instead. A few minutes later and the doorbell rang, I ran to the door to open it, with the money in my left hand.

“Thank you so–” I begin to greet the pizza man but a ginormous, muscular guy hovered above me instead.

Keep reading

Can I ask why everyone thinks that Azula is Zuko’s little sister?

Because unless it was stated somewhere that Azula is 14 in the show, I’m kind of leaning towards her being older than Zuko. And I do actually have a few reasons for thinking this. 

1. It was stated by Ozai in the episode Zuko Alone that Azula was named after her grandfather Azulon

And usually, it is the first born child that is named after a grandparent or parent. And if Zuko was the first born why wouldn’t he be named Azulon? (And I know some of you are thinking, uh duh, because Ozai hated Zuko) But Zuko would have been a newborn baby, there was no way for Ozai to know he would dislike Zuko and thus save the name for his second child. That doesn’t make sense.

2. Now, this might seem off point but stay with me here. So you guys remember Tom-Tom? 

Yeah, Mai’s little brother. We know that he is 2 years old, and then later in the show, it is said that Mai is fifteen years older than her brother. Making Mai 17. And I just always assumed that Azula would be around her friend’s age. She is the same size and looks no younger than Mai. 

Of course, that is more my opinion than fact, but I still feel that Azula would be close to Mai’s age. And she can’t be sixteen because we all know that Zuko is sixteen, so unless they are twins, that can’t be. 

And we do in fact know that Zuko is sixteen because even though that was never said outright, when Zuko confronted his father he said “My father, who challenged me a thirteen-year-old boy, to an Agni Kai,”

 And in the first season, while yelling at Zhao, Zuko says, “I’ve been searching for the Avatar for three years now,” 

Proving to us that Zuko is sixteen. Meaning that if Azula is older she would have to be at least 17 if not older. 

3. Now, this is more my opinion again. But throughout the whole show Azula refers to Zuko as ‘Zuzu’, and I feel like that is something an older sibling would do rather than a younger. 

Of course, we’re talking about Azula here. So really she is probably doing this just to get under Zuko’s skin, and to make him feel inferior because we all know she is a huge manipulator. 

4. Okay, now this is the one that always had me thinking that Azula was the older sibling. So like I said before we know Zuko was 13 when his father burned and banished him. 

This is what Zuko looked like at thirteen. And he does look a lot younger. You can tell this was years ago. 

Now, look at Azula in the crowd watching. 

She looks almost the exact same. Zuko is clearly younger in this flashback, but Azula looks fully grown, and that was three years ago

And as a kid watching the show, that proved to me that she was the older sibling. And up until recently I still thought that. But now I am seeing all these posts about Azula being a 14yo. Which, is of course freakin awesome, because that means she was that cunning and evil at just 14

But it took away a lot of the aspects of her that made me really fear Azula as a character. 

As an older sibling myself, I found it really cruel and scary that Azula would hunt down and try to kill her little brother. (It is horrible whether she is younger or older) but it hit me harder thinking that she was going after a younger sibling rather than an older. 

If you are an older sibling than you know even if you don’t get along with your younger sibs, you still feel protective and want them to strive. And so the fact that Azula was always so cruel towards Zuko made her seem more evil to me. 

She also always knew how to manipulate and push Zuko’s buttons. And I always felt that for Zuko that would be a scary and uncomfortable thing to deal with. And if Azula is older, then there would be that want to impress her in some ways, and feeling less than her in other ways. Making him even easier to manipulate. 

And that was a main part of why I found Azula so evil. Because she should have felt protective towards her brother, but to her, everything was just striving towards power, it showed that she really didn’t have a lot of humanity in her. And I think that point was shown in her breakdown. 

And not only did this make Azula seem even crueler as a character to me. But it made Zuko’s choices more clear as well. 

If Azula is older, Zuko would still want to impress her. Just like he strived to impress his father. Maybe he didn’t want her love. But he would want her respect. And as a younger sibling, I can see him trying to also achieve this. He would feel that he had more to prove. 

And to me, this showed even more character in Zuko when he did leave everything behind. Because he knew that he would be leaving his sister and father behind (not that he cared about their love at this point) but I think that must have been a terrifying thing to do on his part. Because now he will be on the opposite side again. And even if Zuko didn’t think he would be facing his father again, I bet you he knew he would be facing his manipulative sister again.

And it would have been much easier for him to just leave it be, or to even just go hide somewhere where he wouldn’t be found. Because facing Azula again and again would be hard, especially when she knew right where to hit him to make it really hurt.   

And that is why the last Agni Kai felt like the final step for Zuko in redeeming himself. (At least for me) Because he was standing up to someone that must have been scary for him to face, he was putting it to an end, and it a way saying ‘I don’t need to bow down or be scared of you’, because at this point Azula probably didn’t seem as scary to Zuko as she had always seemed while growing up. 

So Azula being the the older sibling not only made her seem eviler, in my opinion, it made Zuko seem even braver. 

So unless proven otherwise, I think I’ll stick to my headcanons.

Touché // j.j.

You can’t pin point when. Somewhere between the steady typing and the flipping of pages, between the constant supply of french fries and chocolate milkshakes, between the occasional eye contact and the brief smiles. Somewhere between the hours of three and seven o'clock, you fell.

To be specific, you fell in love with Jughead Jones, Riverdale’s resident tall dark and handsome, at least in your opinion.

It started one afternoon when Pop’s was busier than usual, every booth and table full except one.

“Do you…do you mind if I sit?” You ask, rocking slightly on the balls of your feet. “Everywhere else is full.”

You expect him to say no; he is, after all, Jughead Jones, and this is, after all, Riverdale, probably the smallest town in the world and everyone at least knew of everyone else, and you definitely know of Jughead and his preference to being alone, especially when he’s writing.

Jughead ceases his typing, locking eyes with you. He glances around the diner, almost surprised at how many people were in it.

“I’m not the best conversationalist,” he says, looking back at you, “I can’t promise anything good.”

This surprises you, you expected a flat out no or for him to even just ignore you.

“I’m not looking for conversation,” you say, shrugging, “just somewhere to sit and read my book while enjoying a milkshake.”

“Depends,” he smirks, folding his hands in front of his laptop, “what flavor milkshake?”

“The best one of course,” you smile back, “chocolate.”

Jughead smiles, actually smiles, and nods.

“Yeah, yeah you can sit,” he says.

You thank him, sliding into the booth and setting your bag next to you. You pull out your book, thanking the waiter as he set down your milkshake.

“Oh, I’m Y/N by the way,” you say, stirring the drink a bit.

“I know.”

You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side.

“You know who I am?”

You remind yourself again that this is Riverdale, probably the smallest town in the world, where everyone knows everyone.

“I know more than you think,” he smiles.

“You take this dark and mysterious thing seriously don’t you?”

“I thought you weren’t looking for conversation?” He raises an eyebrow, half a smirk on his face.

“Touché,” you say, opening your book and settling into the plush seating, sipping occasionally at your milkshake.

This continues for days. Regardless of whether Pop’s is bursting at the seems or it’s just you and him, you always sit together. The two of you sit in that booth, you with a book in one hand and a milkshake in another and Jughead with his laptop on the table and fries next to it.

“You know,” Jughead says one day, fingers still whizzing across the keyboard, “you can sit somewhere else if you want.”

“And ruin the work we’ve been doing?” You smile, “I’m good.”

He stops typing, you feel his eyes on you.

“And what work are we doing exactly?”

“Bonding, Jug,” you say, turning the page.

“Is this what bonding is?”

You look up at him, shrugging.

“What would you call it?”

“Touché.”

Weeks pass, the time you spend at Pop’s growing from a one or two hours into several, your time together stretching into early dusk.

“Hey Jug?” You ask quietly one day, closing your book for once.

He notices, he stops typing, he even half way closes the top of his computer.

“What’s up?”

“How’d you know who I was?” You ask, stirring your milkshake. “That first day…you said you knew who I was before I told you. How?”

“This is Riverdale,” he says, “I think it’s physically impossible to not know someone in this town.”

Jughead opens his mouth to continue, then closes it. You can see the wheels turning in his head.

“I notice things, I notice people,” he resumes finally, “I notice when people are different and you’re different. A good different, but different.”

With that, he raises the lid of his laptop, eyes focusing back on the screen.

“You noticed me?”

He looks back up at you, a smile on his face.

“Course I did.”

When you get to Pop’s one day about a week later, Jughead’s not there, Archie is.

“Oh um…hi,” you say, stopping short in front of the booth.

“Hey, Y/N right?” He asks, motioning for you to sit.

You do.

“Yeah, that’s um…” you shift your weight slightly, feeling uncomfortable, “that’s me.”

“Sorry, this must be awkward,” Archie says with a smile, “I’m Archie.”

“Yeah, I know who you are,” you say before you can stop yourself.

Archie’s eyebrows scrunch up slightly in confusion.

“Sorry, that sounded weird,” you rush, “I just mean, you’re a sophomore on varsity football, the whole school knows who you are.”

Archie smiles a bit, nodding.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he shrugs, “anyway, Jughead sent me.”

You feel your shoulders relax involuntarily, leaning back into the seat.

“Okay.”

“He had to stay after school, make up a test or something,” Archie explains, “he told me to come tell you that he’d be here though, just a bit late.”

You smile.

“Thanks Archie,” you nod, “that’s really nice.”

“Anytime,” the boy replies, smiling, “look uh…this may sound super weird but um…you and Jughead…is that anything more th-”

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head, “no we’re…we’re just friends. At least…I think we’re friends. We just…we sit together and we do our own thing. That’s all.”

“I know Jughead, that’s definitely a friendship,” he smiles, “okay, I gotta head back to practice before I’m missed but yeah, he’ll be here.”

With another smile he scoots out of the booth.

“Archie,” you stop him, looking up at his face, “look um…god this is going to sound crazy but…is Jughead…is he seeing anyone o-or som-”

“No,” Archie cuts you off with another smile on his face, “he was, for a bit but…not anymore. Do you like him?”

You’re surprised by his bluntness, your eyes widening a bit.

“I uh…n-no I was just curious,” you shake your head, pulling your book out of your bag, “you better get to practice, don’t want coach to bench you.”

Archie smiles again, always with the smiling, and walks out of the door just as Jughead walks in.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he says, sitting down across from you.

“I didn’t know we had a set schedule,” you smirk, tilting your head slightly, “nice of you to send your friend though.”

Jughead looks at you, a sarcastic smile on his face.

“Didn’t want you to think I stood you up,” he says, pulling out his laptop.  

“Don’t you have to be on a date to get stood up?” You ask, sipping at your milkshake as Pop places a basket of fries in front of Jughead.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he replies, shrugging.

“So are you telling me that these are dates?”

This time you surprise yourself with your own bluntness, and Jughead as well. He recovers quickly though, the shock on his face only evident for a few brief moments.

“You tell me.”

There it is, his smile, his actual smile. Not a smirk, not some no effort half smile, an actual, full blown, Jughead smile.

Looking back on it, you think that’s when you first knew, when you first realized that you were falling for him.

The rest of the night is spent in silence, well, besides the sound of Jughead’s typing and your book pages begin turned.

You arrive at Pop’s the next day to see Jughead already sitting at the booth, typing furiously. That didn’t surprise you. What did surprise you, however, is the chocolate milkshake already sitting on the table in front of your side of the booth.

“I didn’t see you at school today,” you say, sitting down, “did you skip?”

“Yeah, yeah I um…” he pauses, finishing the sentence he’s typing before looking at you, “I got here this morning because I forgot one of my notebooks and I sat down to finish this paragraph I was on and uh…next thing I knew it was one o'clock in the afternoon so I…figured I’d just stay here.”

“Archie asked me if I knew where you were,” you say, “he came up to me during lunch and asked if I knew if you were sick or not.”

“What did you say?”

“The truth,” you reply, “that I didn’t know.”

Jughead nods, looking back down at his computer screen.

“Jug?” You ask, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows.

He continues to type, oblivious to your calls of his name.

“Juggie!” You exclaim, finally drawing his attention.

“Sorry, got caught up in the story,” he shakes his head, “what’s up?”

“What’s going on with you?” You ask, sliding your book off to the side. “You seem…I dunno, off.”

“Sorry just um…a lot of stuff on my mind I guess,” he says, shrugging.

“About Jason or…other things?” You ask.

“It’s nothing important.”

“Juggie,” you say softly, sliding your hand across the table to touch his arm, “if it’s bothering you this much, it’s important. You can talk to me, always.”

“We’re friends right?” He asks, closing his computer all the way.

“Yeah, yeah course we are Jug,” you nod, “please, tell me what’s going on.”

And he does, he tells you everything. About his parents splitting up, about his dad being part of the Serpents, about his mom taking his sister and leaving, about living at the drive in, about living at the school, everything. And you let him talk, you let him go on for as long as he needs with no interruption, just listening.

“Sorry if that’s a lot but um…I needed to get that stuff off my chest,” he finishes, taking a deep breath, “thanks though.”

“Come stay with me,” the words are out of your mouth before you even think them through, but you don’t take them back, “seriously Jug, my dad’s away on business and my mom won’t care, we’ve got room.”

“No Y/N I can’t expect that from you I do-”

“Juggie, you’re my best friend,” you say, cheeks burning slightly, “please, let me do this for you.”

Jughead looks down, staring your hand touching his, both of your fingers practically intertwined on top of the table.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” He asks after a minute or two silence, looking around the diner. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“I’m absolutely positive it’s okay,” you reply, catching his gaze, “but I’m not going to force you.”

“As long as you’re sure,” he says, nodding, “I’d really like to not live under the stairs like Harry Potter.”

You were right, your mom doesn’t care, she even convinces your dad that it’s okay for Jughead to stay with you, and after three weeks of it, you’re convinced it is the single best idea you’ve ever had.

The two of you still spend most of your time at Pop’s, something about the neon lights and plush seating and the constant supply of chocolate milkshakes makes you feel more at home than you do at your actual house. Or maybe Jughead does. Maybe Jughead makes you feel like you’re home.

“Do you ever wonder how some people end up with the worst luck?” He asks one day, eyes never leaving his computer screen as he chews on this thumb nail.

The two of you are going on four hours at Pop’s that day, and you notice that Jughead has barely written anything.

“Are we talking about Jason?” You ask gently, closing the book you were reading and placing it on the table.

“We’re talking about everyone,” he says cryptically, “how some people are born with everything they could ever want available on a silver platter and others are born with nothing, but somehow the golden boy ends up with the worst kind of luck.”

Jughead rarely ever spoke directly about Jason Blossom, you knew by now how to read between the lines of his novel-ish tone of voice.

“I think that it doesn’t matter what you’re born into,” you reply, “I think what matters is the choices we decide to make throughout our lives, and that that’s how we end up with good or bad luck, by the choices we make and by how we live our lives.”

“Jason never had to make a choice though,” Jughead exclaims, closing his laptop and sliding it out of the way, “that’s the thing, he never in his life had to make one choice for himself and somehow he still ended up murdered.”

His bluntness surprises you, this being one of a few times he directly tells you he’s talking about Jason.

“He did make choices, Jug,” you explain calmly, “everyday, just like you and me. He made the choice to let his parents give him whatever he wanted, he made the choice to follow that stupid book Chuck made up, he made the choice to be with Polly regardless of what his parents said, he made the choice to try and fake his own death so he could be with her without fear of them, he made hard choices, some of them more tough than you and I will ever make in our entire lives.”

Jughead stares at you, and for a minute you think he’s going to get up and leave.

But then he grabs his computer, mumbling a quick thank you under his breath and he begins to type furiously.

That night you’re laying on your bed, Jughead in the guest room across the hall and you can’t help but feel like he’s a million miles away.

You can’t sleep. Grabbing your phone, you squint at the brightness before you’re able to turn it down, looking at the clock.

2:37 am

“He’s probably asleep,” you whisper to yourself as you unlock the device, fingers moving almost on autopilot to Jughead’s message thread.

Can’t sleep, you awake?

You lay the phone on your stomach, staring up at the dark ceiling and willing your body to sleep. The vibration of the device pulls you out of your thoughts.

You okay?

You smile, two simple words causing happiness to bubble up in your stomach.

Yeah, just can’t seem to sleep.

You want to come talk?

If you don’t mind.

You’re always able to come talk to me.

You don’t reply, instead you get up out of your bed, quietly opening your door and then closing it behind you. You take three quick steps across the hallway, opening and closing Jughead’s door as quietly as you did your own.

“Hey,” you say softly, standing in front of the door.

Jughead props himself up on his elbows, the first thing you notice is the lack of a grey beanie upon his head.

“Hey,” he says back in the same tone, “you okay?”

Those two words again, this time sounding even better as you can hear him say it in his own voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, pushing some hair behind your ear nervously.

Why are you nervous? You ask yourself as Jughead motions for you to come join him. It’s only Juggie.

You slide under the covers, but only because the room is cold, and you’re next to him, but only because it’s his room, and his arm is around your shoulders, but only because he’s a good friend and he wants to comfort you.

“Why can’t you sleep?” He asks, rubbing his eye with one hand.

“Did I wake you up?” You ask.

“No I was working on my book,” he explains, pointing at the computer on the bedside table, “don’t change the subject.”

“I dunno…overthinking I guess,” you reply, shrugging a bit.

“About what?”

“Everything I suppose,” you say, “about how if Pop’s wasn’t full that one day or if I had decided not to go then we probably wouldn’t have ever met. About how if I hadn’t continued to sit there we probably wouldn’t have become best friends, about what Archie sa-”

“Archie?” Jughead cuts you off. “What about Archie?”

You curse yourself silently. You didn’t mean to say anything about Archie.

“Nothing, nothing,” you reply quickly, but the look on Jughead’s face told you that he wasn’t going to let it go, “okay um…back that one day when you sent him to Pop’s to tell me that you were going to be late uh…he said that you had been seeing someone but that you weren’t anymore and I was…I guess I was just thinking about who it could’ve been.”

He’s silent, more silent than you’ve ever experienced with the many months of knowing him. Minutes pass, they feel like hours. Finally, you decide to break the silence.

“Juggie?” You whisper.

“Sorry I um…” he shakes his head, raven colored hair flying everywhere, “why were…why were you thinking about that?”

“Curious, I guess,” you explain, “sorry if that seems intrusive or weird or whatever bu-”

“No no it’s…it’s okay,” Jughead replies, wrapping his arm around your shoulders a bit tighter, “it…it was Betty. We had a thing for a few weeks but in the end we decided we were better off as friends.”

“A few weeks?”

“Before I met you, we stopped about two days before that day at Pop’s”

“And are you?”

“Am I what?”

“You and Betty, are you better off as friends?”

“Definitely.”

You nod, falling into silence once again.

This time Jughead breaks it.

“Look I’m not…I’m not good at this whole feelings thing,” he says, “Betty was the first girl I ever really had those types of emotions for but it wasn’t…it wasn’t what I’m supposed to feel. Or rather what I want to feel.”

“Do you know what you want to feel?” You ask, tilting your head up to look at his face.

He looks almost angelic in the pale light streaming through the semi-closed blinds.

“Yes.”

“Do you know anyone that makes you feel like that?”

“Yes.”

The answer comes quick, almost too quick.

“Who?”

Another pause.

“I can’t say.”

Your stomach drops on slightly, but enough for you to feel it nonetheless.

“Oh.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he rushes, running one of his hands through his hair, “it’s just that I don’t really know how to.”

“You’re a writer, Jug,” you say, “I know you’ll figure out how to tell her. You’re good with words.”

“Not when it comes to these kinds of words,” he laughs lightly, “I don’t want to mess up.”

“Don’t psych yourself out,” you encourage, regardless of the weight on your heart, “maybe you don’t need your words this time, maybe actions is the way to go. I believe in you, I know you’ll figure it out.”

Jughead finally looks at you, dark hair falling in front of his face as it’s still free of the infamous crown beanie.

“Actions?” He repeats.

“Yeah, you know what they say,” you smile, “actions speak louder than words.”

He blinks a few times, it’s almost like you can see the thought processing through his brain.

And then suddenly his hands are cupping your face and his lips are on top of yours, your eyes closing as if they had minds of their own. You’re shocked, who wouldn’t be, but it only takes a fraction of a moment for your mind to kick into gear and then your kissing him back, one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his neck.

If I’m dreaming I hope I never ever wake up.

He pulls away too soon for your liking, both your chests rising and falling little faster than usual.

“That thing you said about actions,” he says breathlessly, “I believe it.”

You smile wide, Jughead pressing his forehead against yours.

“You were talking about me?” You ask, still a bit shocked.

Jughead nods a few times, a smile on his face as well.

“I like you, Y/N,” he finally says, “I know that’s not poetic or artistic or anything like that but I just…I don’t have any other words. I really like you.”

You think your face is going to split in half by the giant smile you can’t keep off your face.

“Juggie,” you bite your bottom lip lightly, shaking your head, “god I can’t even tell you how much I’ve been wanting you to say that.”

Jughead’s smile widens and you swear the room brightness a bit.

“I’m really glad you couldn’t sleep tonight,” he whispers, laughing quietly.

“Me too,” you smile even wider, if that’s possible, “Juggie I’m…I’m really really happy right now.”

“God I am too,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “do you maybe want to have dinner with my friends tomorrow? I know they’re going out after the game, I can finally introduce you, properly too.”

“Ooh, dinner with the friends,” you say sarcastically, “I don’t know, you think our relationship is ready for that? We’ve only been together all of five minutes.”

Jughead laughs loudly and you shush him, the two of you falling silent to make sure your parents were still asleep.

“My dad will kill you if you wake him up and he finds us like this,” you whisper, shaking your head, “but in all seriousness, do you think it’ll be awkward for Betty? I don’t want to cause any trouble or anything I know you guys ar-”

“Y/N,” he stops your rambling, a soft smile on his face, “it’ll be fine. Betty and I are good, like I said, we’re better off as friends. Trust me, she’ll be okay. I wouldn’t bring either of you to meet each other if I didn’t think she’d be okay.”

“Okay, I’ll come to dinner with your friends,” you say, “on one condition.”

“Oh god, what?”

“I get to wear the infamous beanie,” you rush out, reaching over Jughead’s body and plucking the hat from on top of is computer.

“Y/N!” Jughead exclaims, trying to grab the hat back from you.

“Hold on hold on,” you say, pushing his hand away.

You put the beanie on your head, smoothing your hair out under it and looking back up at him.

Jughead stops struggling, half a smile on his face.

“Well you do look adorable,” he says, brushing a stray piece of hair off your cheek.

“I wear the beanie tomorrow,” you ask with raised eyebrows.

“You can wear it to dinner,” he compromises, tilting his head to the side.

“Touché.”

Jughead keeps his word, and when the two of you leave your house that evening and head for Pop’s, he takes the beanie off his head and places it on yours, shaking out his hair. Jughead intertwines your fingers together, smiling at you and at how happy you look.

Jughead explains his friends to you, telling you a bit about each one of them as you both walk towards the diner.

“They’re probably going to say something,” he says, “about the beanie.”

“Have any of them ever seen you without it?” You question.

“Archie has a few times, Betty once or twice,” he explains, “but other than that, no.”

Jughead’s warnings were a bit understated. In fact, when the two of you walk into Pop’s and find his friends at a booth, it seems all conversation in the entire diner ceases.

“Jug,” one of the girls, Veronica, says, mouthing wordlessly for a few seconds, “you made it, we thought you weren’t going to come for a while.”

“Yeah, yeah we left a bit late,” Jughead shrugs, “guys um…this is Y/N. Y/N, this is…well this is everyone.”

Once the awkward formalities were out of the way and Pop had brought over everyone’s celebratory milkshakes (the football team won that night), everything felt normal.

You laugh at all the jokes, even tell some of your own. You feel like you’ve been part of this group for years, and you know Jughead can tell.

“Hey um…sorry guys I gotta take this,” Jughead says after he pulls out his phone.

“Juggie?” You ask. “Everything okay?”

“What? Yeah,” he replies, “it’s just…it’s my mom. I should take it.”

“Yeah, yeah of course go ahead,” Betty says, “we’ll keep her company,” she smiles at you.

Jughead thanks them, walking out the door to the diner with the phone up to his ear.

“So,” Veronica says, holding her head up with her hands, “you and Jughead.”

You furrow your eyebrows.

“Oh come on, don’t make her spell it out!” Kevin says, “he’s letting you wear his most prized possession for pete’s sake!”

You feel a blush spread across your cheeks, looking down at the half empty milkshake in front of you.

“I think you guys make a cute couple,” Betty says, licking some whipped cream off of her straw.

“Thanks Betty,” you reply, smiling again.

“This is going to sound awkward but uh…” Archie trails off, “has Jug told you anything about what’s going with his family an-”

“Yeah,” you cut him off, “he has. About everything, including his dad and that stuff. He’s um…he’s staying at my house. Has been for a couple weeks.”

Veronica smirks, Betty elbows her in the ribs. Archie and Kevin rolls their eyes at the two girls.

“Hey, I think he’s talking about you,” Kevin says, nodding in Jughead’s direction.

The four of you look over at him, you watch as he talks into his phone with a huge smile on his face, running a hand through his hair to push it back every couple of seconds.

The night draws to a close all too soon, everyone heading back to their houses as you and Jughead walk hand in hand down the asphalt road.

“I think that went really well,” you say, smiling at him.

“I agree,” Jughead says, stopping you both from walking and standing in front of you.

Before you can ask what he’s doing, he places his lips on yours, cupping your cheek with one hand while simultaneously tilting your head up. You feel him lift the beanie off of your head, but honestly you don’t really care. He pulls away with a smirk, fixing his hat back on his head.

“Archie,” you say, looking over Jughead’s shoulder.

“Really?” He asks with semi-wide eyes, “that’s what you’re thinking about in the middle of our moment?”

No, god you’re an idiot,” you shake your head, pointing over his shoulder, “Archie’s window, which happens to show Archie watching us right now.”

As soon as Jughead turns around Archie slides his curtains closed, causing you and Jughead to burst out in laughter.

“Did you kiss me just to steal your hat back?” You ask in a fake shocked tone.

“Possibly,” he replies, quirking an eyebrow.

“Touché Jones, touché.”

The Long Game - Derek Hale Imagine

Requested by @derangedangelImagine request :) Reader is the same age as Scott & the others but has a crush on Derek & is always flirting with him but Derek doesn’t reciprocate those feelings because of the age difference. But reader is in it for the “long game.” Like a GMW Maya & Josh situation. A few years later reader comes back & Derek likes her back. Thanks :D

Word Count: 4,502

Warning: Derek being abused and injured. 

My Teen Wolf Master List

Originally posted by agsztrashbouquet

Y/N couldn’t keep her lips from forming into a smirk as she saw Derek’s picture appear on her phone. She had just moved back to Beacon Hills earlier today into her new apartment. She had spent most of the day unpacking her boxes, and was already in bed watching a movie on her laptop. She quickly swiped her thumb across the phone and answered. “Hello, stranger. It’s after midnight. No guy ever calls a girl after midnight except for one-" 

"Y/N…” Derek interrupted followed by a loud growl. Y/N could hear Derek’s heartbeat going crazy and his labored breathing. What caught her attention was hearing another heartbeat. “I need you." 

His voice was filled with worry, which caused Y/N to sit up straight in her bed alarmed. "Derek, where are you?”

“I don’t know…” he whispered unexpectedly. He no longer sounded like he was in pain or fighting against someone. He now sounded weak and hurt.

“Derek, I need you to talk to me. What do you see?” She asked as she quickly got out of bed to get dressed.

“I can’t… see anything…” he mumbled. She rushed as she heard his heartbeat getting weaker by the second.

She swallowed hard as she closed her eyes, letting a tear fall down her cheek. She was absolutely terrified for him. “Derek… I’m going to come and get you, okay? But I need to call Stiles to help me. Can you answer the phone if I call you back?”

“My phone… is going to die…”

“Fuck!” She whispered to herself. She put on her shoes as an idea crossed her mind. “After you hang up with me, turn off your phone and save the battery for about 10 minutes. That’ll be about the time it will take me to get to Stiles’ office at the police station. I’ll call you back but you have to answer, okay?”

“O… kay…” he mumbled weakly.

“Derek?” Her voice trembled. He hummed a small ‘yes’. “Please answer the phone." 

"I promise,” he said before he hung up and turned off his phone like he was told to do. 

Y/N grabbed her keys before rushing to her car. Her fingers trembled as she dialed Stiles’ number. For some strange reason a flashback flooded her mind to the first time she went to Stiles for help with Derek.

Keep reading

A quick Clexa AU fic list as requested by anon

This is rather chaotic as I’ve put it together real quick and I’ve plenty favorites - I might add more as I remember or as I go through my reading (some are finished, some are on-going). For now though …

Keep reading

Heat of the Moment - Part 1: Rebound

Characters: Reader (Y/N Padalecki), Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Cortesse (mentioned), A few nameless OCs

Pairing: Jensen x reader, Jared/sister!Reader

Warnings: Lots and lots of insults, talk of sex (very light), implied smut   

Word count: 1200ish

A/N: Andi aka @ellen-reincarnated1967 offered to write me another drabble for a series of hers I love, so I told her to pick one of five prompts but my overactive brain made a story of all five prompts. This is part one of a two part story.

2 out of 5 prompts are used in this one and they are bolded if you are curious.

Thanks a billion to @teenage-internet-recluse for betaing this for me on super short notice.

Masterlist

You weren’t entirely sure how you had ended up in this situation. Of course you knew you were going to see him. There was no way around it. He was your brother’s roommate, but you had come to hang out with your older brother because you missed him. Jared was only two years older than you and you had done everything together growing up.

You knew he lived with Jensen but you had thought you would only have to endure his best friend while you were at the apartment. You certainly hadn’t pictured yourself sitting in a bar filled with bimbos helping your brother pick out a rebound girl for his best friend, that was for sure. If you had thought that was how you would be spending your Saturday night you would have stayed in Austin.

You knew Jared wasn’t doing it on purpose, but it didn’t stop you wanting to kick his stupid face in every time he pointed in the direction of some blonde with her boobs hanging out.

Keep reading

Huntress in the Snow

What if Rhys had met Feyre back when she was still a little girl, alone in the woods and hunting for her family? Inspired by this beautiful work of art, here’s the hypothetical meeting between an abused, tired Rhysand and a tiny Feyre.

 

Rhysand rarely leaves Amarantha’s court Under the Mountain.

He rarely leaves her bedroom, for that matter. Life is just a frenzy of lies, sex, dancing, drinking, hatred and torture these days and he has long given up on making his existence bearable. He doesn’t really care anymore.

He doesn’t care for the stares they give him, the names. He doesn’t care for those pitying glances. He doesn’t care when Amarantha is straddling him, using him, her fingers pulling his hair.

Spring Court is covered in masks right now, but Rhysand might as well be wearing one, too. He doesn’t recognize himself in the mirror anymore. He murmurs things in her ears, he lies, promises, he kills on her behalf, he smirks and laughs and betrays, and he isn’t sure he can ever get back from that.

He’s doing it for Velaris and his beloved ones. That is what he tells himself, over and over and over again, when he’s buried inside her or when he snaps someone’s neck. It’s the only reason he’s still holding on. Velaris. Mor. Amren. His brothers. His court.

Court of Dreams. It’s like a bitter joke, ashes in his mouth. He doesn’t know if he will ever see them again. Doesn’t know if he wants to- after what he’s done.  

He probably won’t ever see them again. This nightmare will never end.

Life is miserable. Rhys doesn’t care.

With the way things are developing right now, his old enemy Tamlin is going to join them in a few years- 42 years have passed and that fool, that idiotic fool hasn’t managed to break the curse. If he realizes that he could save them all, Rhysand doesn’t know. Perhaps Tamlin is just trying to protect those he loves as well. Perhaps he’s trying- perhaps he’s fighting.

Perhaps he’s not.

Rhysand doesn’t care.

He also doesn’t care that Amarantha sends him to the human realm today. To find a group of fae from Dawn Court that have escaped; find them, bring them to her, watch her torture and kill them and fuck her afterwards. It’s nothing to him. He’ll play his part. He’ll be urgent and passionate- I’ve been aching for you, my queen, my everything, woman of my dreams- only you, only ever you- he’ll make her scream his name and kiss her afterwards.

All the while, he’ll be somewhere else. He’ll be talking to Amren, quietly. He’ll be drinking with Cass and Azriel, playing cards. He’ll be dancing with Mor. He’ll be walking through the streets of Velaris.

That’s the only thing he has. And even those memories are further and further away from him with each passing day. Rhysand is afraid that he’ll wake up some morning and find that there’s no fight left inside him- that he’ll just give up.

He looks around.

He’s in a forest, close to the wall. It’s spring, but snow still covers the trees and the ground. He will encounter no humans here- none of them would be so foolish, so daring to get this close to the wall. He sits down next to a stream, closes his eyes and just doesn’t think. A few, scattered moments of peace- he takes what he gets.

Just a few moments. Then he’ll hunt those poor bastards down.

Feyre is twelve, and she’s been roaming this forest for a year now. She’s been following the village’s hunters; copy the way they set their snarls, carry their bows. She has a dream: she’ll hunt so much food her father will get better again. Nesta and Elain will get fatter, rounder, and they will both find very handsome men to marry. Then it’ll be Feyre and her father, and she’ll hunt for him while he reads at home, and in the evening, she’ll cook for him and paint a little.

So far, she hasn’t ever shot anything bigger than a rabbit, and that one time was on accident. The snarls are what works better.

Nesta turned fifteen yesterday. Feyre knows her sister has hoped their father would say something, but he has forgotten all of their birthdays. Nesta has looked like murder all day long. Elain tried to talk to her, but she locked herself in their room.

Elain and Nesta are very sad, Feyre knows that. They remember more of their mother and they talk about her sometimes, exchanging bits and pieces of who she used to be. In the beginning, right after they moved into the little hut at the village’s edge, they tried to be there for her- but they have too much to worry about, now. They never even play with each other. They don’t thank her when she brings food home.

Feyre makes her way through the trees. She must always stay away from the wall- dangerous creatures are there, fae. She’s so afraid of them she has nightmares sometimes.

But today, some inner voice tells her that the wall is not dangerous. That no fae will hurt her. And almost by themselves, their feet make her walk closer and closer to the buzzing, invisible thing that separates their human world from the fae.

When she comes onto a clearing, she sees a man. He is sitting on a fallen tree branch next to a river and his head his lowered, almost as if he were praying. He doesn’t carry weapons, but his clothes are fine and elegant- he must be a rich merchant, lost in the woods.

Perhaps she’ll get a reward if she leads him out of here. Curiosity gets the better of her. “Are you okay?”, she calls over to him, and that is the exact same moment he looks up and meets her eyes.

It knocks the breath out of her. He’s a fae. His ears are long and pointed, and there is something otherworldly in his features that marks him as different.

This is it. She is going to die. Nesta and Elain and her father will starve because she’s not there anymore. How could she be so careless, hunting so close to the wall?

The man takes in her unwashed hair, her threadbare clothes, her make-shift bow. “You should not be here”, he rasps. “You should run.”

Feyre tries to be a still as she can be. The man doesn’t get up, doesn’t come closer. As if he knows that she’ll start screaming if he does.

“Go”, he commands, angry. “Don’t ever come here again. Understand me? Don’t go into the forest at all. Stay at home.”

And she should do just that, run until she’s far away from him, but…

“I have to”, Feyre says. “I have to hunt.”

“No, you don’t. A small girl like you should stay with her family.”

“You don’t understand.” She steps closer, her bow still ready in her hand. “My family will starve if I don’t. I am doing all of this for them.”

The man breathes in, sharply, and she swears that she sees devastation in his eyes. “What?”

“My father can’t take care of us.” Why the words are spilling from her mouth like that, Feyre doesn’t know. “And my sisters are scared. I have to be strong, even when I’m afraid- for them.”

The man stares at her.

“Are you going to hurt me?”, Feyre asks. She tries to hide that she is scared of that fae. She tries to pretend that she could shoot him, if she wanted.

He shakes his head, slowly. “Of course not.”

“What are you doing here, then? Shouldn’t fae be on the other side of the wall?”

The man smiles a bitter smile. “Usually, we should. But I…was allowed a little freedom today.”

“Are you a hunter, too?”

He closes his eyes. “I suppose.”

“Then you’re a little bit like me.”

“Well.” He laughs. “Not really. But I am doing this for my family, too. All of this.”

Feyre doesn’t know why, but for some strange reason, it makes her very happy that the man has a family. That he’s not alone.

“That’s good”, she smiles. “You should go be with them, not sit in the forest by yourself.”

He nods. “You’re right, of course. As should you.”

Feyre steps as close to him as she dares. The fae is very pretty, she realizes. All the older village girls would probably be in love with him. But he looks sad, she thinks, and she doesn’t know why, but it makes her heart ache a little. She wants him smiling.

“Here.” The fae nods his head and suddenly, a basket filled with bread and meat appears in the snow. “Take that home to your family. It should give you enough food to eat for the next few weeks. I can’t- I wish I could do more. But my hands are quite literally tied.”

“Is this some sort of trick?”, Feyre asks. “Some bargain? Some fairy magic?”

The fae shakes his head, a flicker of amusement on his face. “No bargain, little girl. Although I’m impressed you’re already so wary for your age.”

Feyre picks up the basket. This is better than the time she shot the rabbit. This is all of her birthdays combined. “Thank you- what’s your name?”

“Rhys”, he says, looking at his hands. “That’s what my friends call me.”

“That family you told me about?”

“Yes”, Rhys says softly. “My family.”

Feyre smiles at him. It comes so easy, the smile- because something deep inside her core tells her that she doesn’t need to be afraid of him. And she trusts that. “Thank you, Rhys. Your family is lucky to have you. You just saved mine today.”

He still looks so very sad. “Then that’s something”, he says hoarsely. “Before you go- one thing.”

And suddenly there are talons in her head, and she can’t move anymore.

“It’ll be over in a few moments”, Rhys says. “But I can’t let you remember me. She’ll find out, somehow. She’ll break you just for fun.”

Some white blanket is thrown over her mind, and the next second, Feyre finds herself alone in the woods.

What just happened? Why is she here?

Oh, yes- she remembers- the rich merchant who she met on her way here showed mercy and handed her the basket-

What on earth is she doing so close to the wall?

Feyre turns around and runs. Today is such a good day. She feels happy, not just because of the gift…but because of something else.

And maybe she can get through all of this.

Maybe she’ll find a way out of this someday.  

Rhys has never done something like this, but he forces himself to forget her. He pushes her image into the very, very back of his mind, he uses his magic on himself and forces himself to forget about that girl in the snow, that tiny, little huntress.

Because for some reason, he knows that she is important. For what, he doesn’t know. But he’ll do what it takes to keep her hidden from Amarantha.  

It makes him cry out in pain to use those talons on himself, but-

Rhys finds himself standing somewhere in the forest.

Why is he still here? He should go- hunt those Dawn fae down.

There’s a weird feeling of goodness in the back of his mind. Of happiness. And he remembers- that those he loves are out there. That somehow, someday, he’ll see them again. That there is a reason for everything.

He feels hope, and he doesn’t know why.

I have to be strong, even when I’m afraid- for them, whispers a voice inside his head. He knows who said it-

A girl-

He can’t remember. But that feeling lingers.

That night, when Amarantha is on top of him, moving and moaning about how good this feels after a kill, all he can think is the clock is ticking, you bitch. You’ll go down soon. Someone will come and end you.

When she leaves him, he showers and washes her scent off him. Someone is out there, he thinks. Someone good. This world is not completely lost. And for some reason, he cares again. Cares about what happens. Cares about who wins. Suddenly, he wants to fight.

That night, he has the strangest dream. It’s a hand, unpacking a basket full of bread, apples and meat. A small hand; a child’s hands. But it makes him so inexplicably happy he thinks about that dream for days.

A few years later, when Rhysand has long forgotten about everything, he dreams of that same hand again.

Only this time that delicate, female hand is drawing flowers on a table.

And something inside Rhysand whispers, soon.

Soon.

Soon.

emma-blackthron  asked:

Why would Malcolm take Jem and Tessa's word when they weren't even born when Annabelle is "taken from him"? Blaming Magnus makes more sense, since Magnus was alive and most likely knew if Malcolm and Annabelle. Also, how does Jem not know Annabelle isn't an Iron Sister? Or is becoming a Iron Sister like becoming a Silent Brother where they choose another name? Like how Jem is/was Brother Zachariah.

Hi,

I was initially very confused by this question because of course Malcolm didn’t hear about Annabel becoming an Iron Sister from Jem or Tessa – as you say, they weren’t alive then. So I went through Lady Midnigh and I think you are referring to these passages in Lady Midnight, though Jem isn’t mentioned:

Lies?” Malcolm’s voice rose. “You want to talk about lies? They lied to me about Annabel. They said she had become an Iron Sister. All of them told me the same lie: Magnus, Catarina, Tessa. It was from a faerie I found out that they had lied. From a faerie I learned what had really happened to Annabel. By then she was long dead. The Blackthorns, murdering their own!”

“They told me she’d become an Iron Sister. All of them lied to me—Magnus, Catarina, Ragnor, Tessa—corrupted by Shadowhunters, drawn in by their lies! And I, oblivious, grieving  for her, until finally I found out the truth—”

And then here, Jem talks to Emma about Malcolm:

Jem turned back toward her, the light of sympathy in his dark eyes. “We heard everything from Magnus. He told us that you were the one who killed Malcolm,” he said. “That must have been hard. You knew him. It’s not like killing demons.”
“I knew him,” Emma said. “At least, I thought I did.”
“We knew him too. Tessa was heartbroken to hear that Malcolm believed that we all lied to him. Concealed from him that Annabel was not an Iron Sister, but was dead, murdered by her family. We believed the story, but he died thinking we all knew the truth. What a betrayal that must have felt like.”
“It’s strange to think he was your friend. Though I guess he was our friend too.”
“People are more than one thing. Warlocks, no less. I would not even hesitate to say that Malcolm once did much good, before he did evil. It is one of the great lessons of growing up, learning that people can do both.”

My guess, and I apologize if I’m wrong, is that you’re expanding Malcolm’s statements to mean: “They lied to me about Annabel. They said she had become an Iron Sister. All of them told me the same lie: Magnus, Catarina, Tessa. They were the first people to tell me what happened to Annabel. They are all very responsible and very involved in what happened with Annabel and with me.”

None of that is true, though. 

It isn’t like Malcolm’s warlock friends were the ones who broke the news to him that Annabel joined the Iron Sisters. They didn’t. You’ll find out more about what happened with Annabel, the Clave, the Iron Sisters, and Malcolm in LOS but Malcolm was told the lie about Annabel joining the Iron Sisters by the Clave and Annabel’s family (and even though he didn’t like them, he wouldn’t have thought the truth was that they’d murdered her instead. That is extreme and not the sort of thing anyone would assume.) 

Everyone but a very few people in the government and Annabel’s family believed she had joined the Iron Sisters and they had good reasons to believe it. But Malcolm thinks his friends should have known better than to repeat the lie (that they didn’t know was a lie.) Malcolm felt betrayed by Tessa, Magnus, Catarina, and Ragnor specifically because he thinks they might have had inside information, since all of them are warlocks who have been known to associate closely with Shadowhunters, and Tessa was even married to one.

Malcolm is being unreasonable. He is like someone who found out his wife is cheating and so gets rid of all of his friends because “"they probably knew about it” even though they didn’t. But then Malcolm is also willing to punish the Blackthorns of 200 years ago by killing the Blackthorns of today so we should not look to him for logic, just rage and betrayal.

Iron Sisters do take on other names, just like Silent Brothers do. That is why they have similar sounding names, and why none of them is introduced with a last name. They are extremely secretive; there’s no reason to believe that Jem would know who any of them had been before they renounced their old lives. Diana actively sought out that information, but there’s no reason Jem or anyone else would have done so: why would they be checking up on Malcolm’s ex-girlfriend? There was no reason to do that when he thought she had voluntarily become an Iron Sister and by the time found out she hadn’t, he didn’t need them to check on it, and didn’t tell them anyway.

Malcolm probably does blame Magnus but that is because Malcolm blames everyone friendly with Shadowhunters, not because Malcolm has any logical reason to blame any of these people, half of whom weren’t born when Annabel was killed. Just because Malcolm is angry that Tessa and the others believed the official story (which he told them!) that Annabel had become an Iron Sister rather than magically figuring out it hadn’t happened that way doesn’t mean they were responsible for the lie in the first place. They have next to nothing to do with the whole business. They just happen to be who Malcolm and Diana are discussing in this one scene.

thenworld  asked:

may I ask why your relationship with the pride & prejudice (2005) is complex? I love hearing people's opinions about the movie

Now, I do not hold any sort of beef or dislike anyone who prefers the 2005 adaptation over any other adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. Partly because everyone’s preference is unique, and mostly because I’m not a massive head of a dick.

My relationship with the 2005 film is complex because there are three parts of me whenever I watch a film.

The director and the writer and the fan.

The director likes the film very much. She adores the editing, how the scenes are lit, how Marianelli’s music so perfectly moves the scenes along and evokes the feelings of the characters, the costumes, the acting. The little touches and production details, she is particularly fond of.

The writer finds the film to be rather middle-of-the-road. There’s good writing in there, wit and some good ideas. (Whoever came up with the idea of Elizabeth and Darcy’s first touch coming through him helping her into the carriage needs to get an award, because so much subtext and the writer lurves subtext.) But she finds that sometimes, the writing is a bit too modern and it doesn’t really properly evoke the Regency era for her as other adaptations have done in the past.

The fan hates some of the changes. The alternative ending shall not be spoken of, for one. Another severely dislikes the overly giggly nature of Elizabeth Bennet. Kiera Knightley is a very good actress, but Elizabeth was always meant to be, for the fan, a bit more serious. Inclined to laugh, obviously, but grounded. Lydia is flighty, flirting without thought for the effect it has on the rest of her family. Elizabeth however, is proud and therefore, pragmatic. By making Lizzy more giggly, zipping about making sarcastic comments, it just makes the film lack a bit of gravitas.

Putting all that together, basically I find that though a beautifully made film, the 2005 adaptation is just too fluffy and too on the nose. I understand that it’s a film and therefore changes have to be made to fit everything into 2 hours, but it misses the mark on a lot, and that makes it, as I said, fluffy. I want some sharpness to my P&P, you know?

Take the 1995 adaptation. I know it’s talky, a bit stagey and a bit stiff in some places but it lies deep in my heart, embedded there for always. Everyone talks about Darcy and Elizabeth being in the thundering rain in the 2005 film and I’ll be honest, that is a fantastic scene with that almost kiss but 1995, HOLY HELL. THIS REQUIRES EXTENDED CAPSLOCK BECAUSE ELIZABETH BENNET LIT UP BY SUNSHINE AS SHE TEARS FITZWILLIAM DARCY, OWNER OF THE PEMBERLEY ESTATE AND EARNER OF 10 GRAND A YEAR,  A NEW ONE.

LOOK AT DARCY.

HE’S REHEARSED THAT SPEECH. YOU KNOW HE HAS. TEN TIMES, OVER AND OVER, IN FRONT OF HIS BATHROOM MIRROR. HIS VALET’S ALL, ‘THE GREEN WAISTCOAT OR THE WHITE, SIR?’ AND DARCY’S JUST LIKE, ‘YOU MUST ALLOW ME TO TELL YOU HOW ARDENTLY I ADMIRE AND LOVE YOU’ AND THE VALET’S ALL ‘UMMMM THIS IS NOT WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR’ (and yes that is a Blackadder Goes Forth reference, what)

ANYWAY. HE SAYS THIS SHIT TO ELIZABETH.

‘YEP, I’LL IMPLY THAT SHE’S SHIT POOR AND IT’LL BE EMBARRASSING FOR ME TO MARRY HER, SHE’S SO GONNA SAY YES RIGHT NOW, GOOD ONE DARCY.’

MEANWHILE LIZZY’S RAGE IS GENTLY SIMMERING IN A POT OF ‘I’M GOING TO KICK YOUR FUCKING ASS.’

THEN, WHEN DARCY’S ALL TALKED OUT, THIS LOOK AND THESE WORDS. AS LIZZY PREPARES TO GIVE THIS FUCKSTICK THE BURN OF HIS LIFE. 

THAT IS A LOOK WHICH TELLS YOU SHIT IS ABOUT TO GO DOWN.

AND DARCY. HE KNOWS HE’S ABSOLUTELY FUCKED. LOOK AT THIS, AND DON’T TELL ME THAT ISN’T THE FACE OF A MAN WHO’S JUST PROCESSED THE WORDS HE’S JUST HEARD AND KNOWS DEEP DOWN HE’S ABOUT TO GET KICKED OUT OF THE BACK DOOR ONTO HIS FACE.

IN FACT, DARCY’S REACTIONS AS SHE TEARS INTO HIM IS A THING OF BEAUTY.

‘THIS IS… NOT GOING THE WAY I PLANNED’

‘THIS IS DEFINITELY NOT GOING THE WAY I PLANNED’

‘OKAY BUT SHE HASN’T TECHNICALLY SAID NO YET, I MAY BE IN WITH A CHANCE’ 

BUT THEN

‘OH SHIT I FORGOT ABOUT THE SISTER’

‘WAIT HOW DOES SHE KNOW ABOUT BINGLEY’

‘DAMN YOU FITZWILLIAM’

‘ALRIGHT FUCK IT, I DID FUCK UP YOUR SISTER’S HAPPINESS SO WHAT’

THEN LIZZY BRINGS UP WICKHAM

‘UGH FUCKING WICKHAM WHY DO WE ALWAYS HAVE TO TALK ABOUT THAT DUDE’

BUT LIZZY CONTINUES AND DARCY REALISES THIS IS ABOUT MORE THAN BASTARD WICKHAM

‘OKAY NO, I HAVE ACTUALLY SEVERELY FUCKED UP’

SO HE TURNS ON HER

‘WELL YOU’RE POOR AND YOUR FAMILY IS SHIT SO WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY TO THAT HUH

THEN LIZZY TURNS BACK TO HIM WITH THIS LOOK.

AND DARCY’S REACTION.

THAT NIGGLING THOUGHT HE HAD DEEP DOWN THAT HE WAS FUCKED – THAT HAS JUST COME LOOMING UP TO THE FOREGROUND, WAVING A FLAG WHICH HAS THE WORDS ‘WE ARE DOOMED’ SPLAYED ACROSS IT IN ELEGANT REGENCY FONT

BUT LIZZY AIN’T FINISHED YET

BEAUTIFUL SUMMER SHINESHINE IS POURING THROUGH THOSE WINDOWS, BIRDS ARE MOST LIKELY TWEETING, THE LEAVES ON THE TREES ARE BURSTING GREEN AND LIZZY IS THROWING EVERY WORD OF HER REJECTION OF DARCY AT HIM LIKE THEY’RE NINJA THROWING STARS OR SOME SUCH SHIT

LOOK AT THAT LOOK. THAT IS THE LOOK THAT PUTS FLESH ON MY BONES, BEATS IN MY HEART, AIR IN MY LUNGS AND FOOD IN MY BELLY.

AND WHAT’S HIS REACTION? WHAT’S THIS FUCKER’S REACTION TO THE MOST SAVAGE REJECTION HE’S POSSIBLY EVER HAD IN HIS LIFE? AS A WOMAN, LIZZY HAS VERY FEW OPTIONS IN THIS ERA. HE COULD RUIN ALL OF THOSE OPTIONS, RUIN HER, BY HEADING OUT OF THERE AND TELLING EVERYONE HE MEETS ‘DON’T GO FOR THAT ELIZABETH BENNET SHE’S RUDE AND UNGRATEFUL AND THE WORST KIND OF WOMAN’ BUT—

HE LEAVES. THIS UTTER WANKER APOLOGISES FOR TAKING UP HER TIME AND NOBLY, QUIETLY, LEAVES, NOT FORGETTING TO WISH HER WELL BEFORE HE GOES.

And suddenly, that’s a glimmer of the good behind the pompous arsehole. He listens to Lizzy’s rejection, savage and filled with truth, and he writes a letter to her in response. 

How very fucking British.

And precisely why my relationship with the 2005 film is so complex.

Pink Floyd

Originally posted by riverdaleselite

A/N: I’M BACK… and so soon as well. Enjoy, beautiful (yes, I’m talking to you).

Request:  Hi honey ! <3 I was wondering if you could write an imagine, where Jughead always sees a little girl in Pop’s, she eats ice cream or drink milkshakes after school, and she is really talkatvive, annoys him a lot, but she reminds him so much of Jellybean so he never was mean to her, only in playful way, and when he find out, that she has a cute older sister at his age (reader) he likes her even more ? ^^

Word Count: 1,913

Warnings: None

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The West Wing

Remember when I asked if you all wanted a ficlet of Feyre finding Rhys’ mother’s and sister’s wings in Spring Court? And all you Maasochists said yes?

Well, here you go…

Originally posted by blmglove

~

I climbed the stairs to that part of the manor that I’d never visited before. Tamlin had never outright ordered me not to venture here, but it was always an unspoken understanding we had. Before everything that happened, before Rhys, Tamlin always came to my room when we spent the night together, I was never invited to his. Maybe that’s what drove me to explore while he was far from the manor. Not that I was afraid of him, I hadn’t been afraid of him for a long while now, but it would be so much easier to look around without him hovering over me.

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Sanvers in College: Alex Drunk Dials the Cute Girl from Bio Class

Based on this post: https://hazingblur.tumblr.com/post/160026282401/queercapwriting-wlwprompts-person-a-is-drunk @hazingblur

Original prompt from @wlwprompts : “Person A is drunk and decides to randomly call that cute girl from biology class to tell her she’s pretty”

@lesbapocalypse you also asked for this so like.


She’s drunk and she’s stolen Kara’s phone, because it’s finals week and all bets are off and that cute girl from biology class?

She’s 1000% sure that her name is Maggie – Maggie Sawyer – not that she paid attention.

Pfft.

No. Of course she didn’t.

And she’s 1000% sure that said Maggie Sawyer is the same Maggie that her little sister has befriended.

And therefore, that cute girl’s number – and when she says cute, she means it, but god, she also means blazingly sexy – must be in Kara’s phone.

So she swipes the phone from her sister’s bag while Kara laughs with James and Winn. Swipes it and chugs another gulp of illegal punch and she finds Maggie’s name – complete with a picture, god, a gorgeous picture, because damn, those dimples, that hair, those downcast eyes – in Kara’s contacts.

Finds the name, and tries once, twice, three times, to successfully hit the big green button that makes the phone dial.

She giggles and almost bounces on the balls of her feet as the phone rings, rings, rings.

“Hey Kara!”

Alex freezes at the sound of her voice – her voice that she’s used to hearing only asking the best questions, only giving the best answers, in bio lecture, in bio lab – and she contemplates hanging up and leaving it to her sister to explain the butt dial.

“Kara?”

But now Maggie sounds concerned, because she must hear the party in the background, and Alex has seen her smile, seen her nerdiness, but she’s also seen her motorcycle, her leather jacket, her gym bag. And she doesn’t want her to be concerned, to feel like she has to speed to the party to rescue Kara from whatever situation she might be in.

“Hey! No, nope, not Kara. I mean, of course you thought it was Kara, I took her phone, I mean, obviously you thought it was her – ”

“Danvers?”

“Not the blonde one!”

“Alex.”

“Hiiiii.”

There’s a pause and she thinks she hears Maggie shuffling something.

“Danvers, you drunk? Are you with people, drinking water?”

“Awww, Sawyer, you care about me!”

“Well I sure don’t want you passing out in your own vomit, Danvers. I’ve been there, it’s not pleasant.”

Her voice is pleasant, though, and Alex collapses drunkenly onto a half-occupied couch, completely oblivious to the couple that had been making out, who shoot her irritated looks as they get up to find a better spot to kiss.

Alex thinks she hears that shuffling again, and maybe some wind, but she’s drunk and everything is oh so slightly hazy, but pleasantly so – pleasant, because Maggie Sawyer is on the phone with her, Maggie Sawyer cares whether she throws up or not. Maggie Sawyer. God. How can anyone be that perfect?

“I’m finnneee. I just… it’s just, I know you’re Kara’s friend, but we’ve never really talked, and I… even if you weren’t Kara’s friend, I’d have noticed you, you know. I mean, how could I not notice you? Do you know we’re in the same bio class? You’re always so smartest. The smartest girl in the class. The smartest and the cutest. And my sister’s friend! What are the odds, huh? Maybe we can calculate it with genome mapping or something. But we’re more than our code, right, we have to be. You believe that, right, Maggie?”

“Hey, Danvers, I’m not cutting you off, but can you do me a favor?”

Alex preens. Her last name sounds so nice on Maggie’s tongue. She wonders what else would feel nice on Maggie’s tongue. Everything, probably.

She nods before she realizes vaguely that Maggie can’t see her.

“Mmhmm.”

“Remind me which house is throwing the party you all are at.”

Alex squints as she tries to remember. “The one across from the science building. Where we take bio. Together. But now term is ending and maybe we won’t do anything together again. Not even that we did anything in bio together, because I was too nervous to – ”

“Danvers, whoa whoa. Can you do me another favor, sweetie?”

Alex’s heart backflips and she almost careens off the couch, because she called her sweetie, she called her sweetie, she called her sweetie.

The sound of wind on the other line increases in her ear, but maybe that’s just a side effect from how hard she’s pressing the phone to her ear, like the closer she clutches it, the closer she’ll be to Maggie.

“Yeah.” She thinks her voice might be higher, might be breathier, than it normally is, but that’s alright, because Maggie Sawyer called her sweetie.

“I know you have things you feel like you want to tell me right now, and I want to hear them, but only if you still want to tell me when you’re sober, okay?”

Alex blinks and furrows her brow at the phone, because – maybe she’s more drunk than she thought – Maggie’s voice seems to be coming from two places, now. One, through the phone, and one, less static-y, closer to her body.

She looks up from the couch and she startles, because Maggie is standing over her, crouching down next to her as she hangs up her phone, all basketball shorts and hoodie and flip flops and hair hastily tied back into a messy ponytail.

She’s grinning softly, but she’s breathing kind of heavily, like she’d just sprinted from her dorm room. Because, Alex realizes dimly, that’s exactly what she just did.

“Hey Alex,” she says as Alex splutters, as Alex fumbles to sit up straight, to fix her hair, to hang up Kara’s phone without dropping it.

Alex thinks she may be imagining it, but Maggie’s voice is softer, now, more breakable, now, more vulnerable, now, than it had been when they’d been on the phone. When Maggie had been on a search-and-give-water-to-the-drunk-girl mission.

But now that she’s arrived, water bottle she must have grabbed on the way out of her dorm in hand, her voice is shy, and her eyes are shy, and her eyes are something that look a little scared.

“Hi Maggie,” Alex whispers, and then giggles because she’s not sure why she’s whispering.

Maggie grins, and it’s the sweetest sight Alex has ever seen. She made Maggie Sawyer smile.

“Why did you come all the way here? You didn’t have to come all the way here, I – ”

“Well, clearly your sister doesn’t know what you’re up to or how drunk you are, because if she did I would have heard her in the background telling you to think before you dial and all that stuff.”

Alex covers her face with hands made clumsy by alcohol.

“Ugh, I’m sorry, you’re right, I shouldn’t have – I ruined your night, I embarrassed myself, I’m sorry, Maggie, I – ”

“Hey, hey, no, that’s not what I meant.” Maggie gets up from her crouch to sit on the couch next to Alex, and she opens the water bottle for her and presses it gently into her hands.

“Drink. Please?”

“I’m not that drunk.”

Maggie just nods, and Alex does as she’s told.

She finishes the entire bottle in one chug, and Maggie just watches her with cautious but glistening eyes.

“Okay, come on. Kara!” she calls across the room, and Kara seems to materialize next to them instantly.

“Maggie! I thought you weren’t in the mood to party toni – Alex? Are you okay? What – ”

“Here. Your phone.”

“How did you – ”

“Tell you in the morning. Right now, I’m gonna take your sister back to my room – no funny business, I promise – and help her sober up a little. Okay?”

Kara glances between Maggie’s disheveled appearance and Alex’s drunken one, and she kisses Alex’s cheek.

“Don’t give her a hard time, okay, Alex?” she teases, and Alex giggles as she stands unsteadily, both Kara and Maggie stabilizing her.

“When do I give anyone a hard time?”

Kara just kisses her again, just thanks Maggie, doesn’t object to their arrangement, because she trusts Maggie not to take advantage of her sister, and she knows that her sister would like nothing more than to get to know Maggie better. She just wishes she’d have had the courage to reach out sober. But they’ll work on that. The three of them.

Alex leans on Maggie, who’s wrapped her arm around Alex’s waist, and revels in the contact.

As they walk, she rambles about the chemical structure of alcohol. About its impacts on the brain. Maggie listens and Maggie smiles and Maggie nods in all the right places, and Maggie lets her talk, lets her talk, because she’s focused on making sure she doesn’t let the taller girl stumble and fall.

When Maggie shoves her dorm door open, Alex freezes.

“You know I’ve wanted this since like, the first time I saw you. For you to take me back to your room. To…” Her eyes flit down to Maggie’s lips.

“To kiss you.”

Maggie gulps and slips away from her, taking care to keep her hands on Alex’s arms to help her stabilize.

“Go pee.”

“What?”

“You’re this drunk? You for sure need to pee. Bathroom’s right there. Can you make it on your own?”

Alex nods with tears in her eyes, and Maggie hates herself a little bit, but she’d hate herself a lot more if she let this conversation continue.

The bathroom door shuts and the water flushes and the sink runs for a long, long, long moment.

When Alex stumbles out, it’s with confusion and the shadows of hurt in her eyes.

“Did I do something wrong? I don’t have to stay here, you didn’t have to – I just thought – you ran to… to rescue me, and you gave me water, and you took me home, and I thought that meant you like me as much as I like you, and I –

"Alex. Alex, Alex, look… We can talk about all this when you’re sober. If you still want to talk about it. I promise. But right now? Right now, we can talk biology. Or astrophysics, or about the dessication and revival of tardigrades, whatever you want. Just not us. Not now. And certainly no kissing. Okay?”

Alex slumps down onto Maggie’s bed without asking, and Maggie just grins and kneels to help take Alex’s boots off.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re drunk, Danvers,” Maggie giggles like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“It’s never mattered to any guy,” Alex almost whispers, and Maggie stiffens, and her nostrils flare, and her eyes are more serious, more full of rage, than Alex has ever seen them.

“Well, it matters to me. Okay? Come on.”

She helps Alex swing her legs up onto the bed, holds her up to take in one more glass of water, hastily poured, and she kicks off her flip flops and grabs a pillow from the other side of her bed.

“You’re not gonna come to bed?”

“The floor’s perfectly fine for me, Danvers.”

“But – ”

“When you’re sober. If you still want to. I promise, Alex. Okay?”

“You promise?”

“Yeah, Danvers. Yeah. I promise.”

But Alex is asleep, a small smile on her face, before Maggie even finishes her promise. Her promise to her best friend’s big sister, who she’s been trying to gather the courage to ask out for months now.

She snuggles down onto the floor and – eventually – falls asleep with a smile on her own face, too.

so i’ve been making monthly fic recs for a full year now! that’s so insane to think about honestly. thanks for all the support! my first monthly fic rec was for april 2016 and it had 10 fics on it. now they have upwards of almost 30 fics. that’s character development. anyway…

here are a bunch of fics I’ve enjoyed and loved reading throughout the month of march. I recommend that you read these great fics in april, if you haven’t already. 

(all fics with a star are my favorites and if there are two stars then it was a favorite favorite)


1. Perfect Storm (80k)*

What do you do when your best friend asks you and your (now) ex to be the best men at his destination wedding? You can either tell him the truth, tell him you’re not together anymore, and deal with the consequences, or you can pretend you’re still together and roll with it, just pray you don’t spiral. Fake it ‘til you make it. You know, for the sake of the wedding.

Harry and Louis choose the latter.

2. The Night Sky is Changing Overhead (124k)**

Harry is a tattoo artist, Louis is a drama professor, and they meet during an argument at a café.

3. All I Wish Not to Remember (71k)**

What happens when all you had, all you loved, all you held dear is viciously ripped away from you? When your inner core, once filled with love and hope and light, blackens to raw, dark hatred?

What happens when your soul is hopelessly consumed and no matter how hard you try, no matter how hard you attempt to shake yourself out, to rid your tormented mind of the opaque feelings that plague you, all you can see, all you can feel, all you can want is…

Revenge.

A modern adaption of The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas. A tragic tale of timeless undying love, merciless revenge, and selfless sacrifice.

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13 reasons why (Tape 2)

Characters: sister!reader, Dean, Sam, Crowley, mention of John, readers mom

Warnings: blood, angst, death, swearing, blackmail

Word count: 4775

Summary: Dean listens to tape two and learns the truth about what happened to your mother. His suspicion grows as he finds out more about who is and who isn’t part of the reasons why.

A/N: sorry I’ve left you waiting for so long but part two is finally here!

Series: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

You ran inside your old house, it felt strange to be home. But that’s where this place was… Home. Your place with John was never a home, it was just a motel; a room with four walls. That’s not what a home meant to you, it was a person more than a place. That person to you was your mom and you needed her now more than ever.

When you opened up the door you had expected her to be on the couch watching a movie or something. The TV was on, however she wasn’t there. Your mom would never have left the TV on and gone to bed, so where the hell was she? You shut the door behind you and checked in the living room once more.

Heading up the stairs you heard the noise of the TV from her room. Why would the upstairs and downstairs TV be on?

“Mom?” You called out, but there was no answer. “Mom, it’s me, Y/N… I’m sorry, things didn’t work out with John.”

You walked into her room and saw her foot hanging off the end of the bed. You figured she must have fallen asleep while watching TV. You smiled as you thought of her peacefully laying there and not having to worry about anything. You wanted to cover her with a blanket but as soon as you walked in, you saw something you weren’t prepared for.

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anonymous asked:

#6 for NurseyDex <3

6. “H-how long have you been standing there?”


When Will’s sister picks up on the 2nd ring, he doesn’t even bother to say hi.

“Fuck this.  Fuck the Haus, fuck dibs, fuck Ransom and Holster, fuck quarters, fuck hockey.  Fuck.  Everything,” Will fumes.

Alex is quiet for a moment.  “I’m sure you don’t mean that.”

“Yes I do,” Will retorts.  “Because of some grade-A crazy bullshit, I’m now sharing a room at the Haus with him.”

“I thought he was getting Lardo’s room and you were–”

“Getting the attic?  Yeah, that’s what we all thought, except my idiot captains gave the attic to Ollie and Wicks.”

“Okay, I mean that’s odd, but not–what did you say?  Grade-A crazy bullshit?” Alex replies.

“I haven’t even gotten to that yet,” Will says.  “So Lardo can’t decide because like, Nursey basically wrote her thesis or whatever.  I mean, who cares that all the shit I’ve done to keep the Haus standing was more important to the team, right?  So Bitty comes up and is like, ‘oh, let’s do a dibs flip.’  Like a coin flip.  So–”

“Okay, wait, so if there was a coin flip for it, how are you sharing?” Alex asks, clearly confused.

“Yeah, this was the bullshit.  It rolled and got stuck in between two floorboards!  Exactly on its side!” Will nearly shouts, feeling that same mixture of anger and despair he felt as he watched the whole thing unfold in front of his eyes.

“So it was a tie.  And now you have to share,” Alex says plainly.

“Yes.  Oh fuck me,” Will curses.  “How am I going to survive Alex?  How?  Sometimes I can barely stand to be around him, how am I supposed to share a room with him?”

“You could always just–not,” Alex says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and Will is an idiot for not thinking of it himself.

“Ha! Right, like I’m going to give him the satisfaction.  He said I would move out by September at the latest.  And maybe I can’t stand being around him, but my pettiness is–uh–” 

Will falters as he spins around in his desk chair.  When he got back to his dorm room, he had propped the door open (he’s trying to be friendly and prove to his floor that he’s not a total weirdo).  And now, standing in that open doorway, is Nursey.

“Fuck my life,” Will mutters.

“Billy?” Alex responds questioningly.

“I have to go Alex, I’ll call you back later,” Will says, pulling the phone away from his ear and ending the call.  He takes a deep breath as he puts his phone face down on his desk.  “H-how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough, Poindexter,” Nursey shrugs.  “I just came by to bring you this book.  You left it at the Haus.”

“It’s what not what it sounds like, Nursey,” Will says, springing to his feet.

“It’s chill dude,” Nursey answers, his expression appearing unfazed.  But after two years as his partner on the ice (and often off it), Will can somewhat read him.

He can see his disappointment in the slight drop of his head, the way his eyebrows have gone up just a bit, and of course his eyes.  Will has learned that Nursey’s eyes always give something away, whether he’s able to understand what they’re saying or not.

“That’s bullshit,” Will counters.  “And I know that you know that I know that.”

“So what if it is?  What gives you the right to know?” Nursey retorts angrily.  “You clearly don’t give a fuck about me, so why should I tell you?”

“That’s not true and you know it!”

“Do I?  Do I know that?  Because not even two minutes ago, I stood in your doorway and listened to you tell your sister that you can barely stand to be around me.  That sounds like someone who doesn’t care to me,” Nursey replies sharply and they’ve argued before, but something in Nursey’s voice is different this time.

Because Nursey is used to people not caring about him.  He’s gone through his whole life surrounded by people like that.  And he thought Will did care about him because, despite all their difficulties, they’re pretty close friends (even if they still annoy the hell out of each other from time to time)–and he does–but it doesn’t look that way right now.  

Will gets that.  But what Will doesn’t understand is why this seems so devastating to him.  It’s not like no one cares about him–there’s Lardo, Bitty, Chowder, and a whole slew of others.  What’s different about him?

“It’s–listen, you heard one statement out of context–”

“You said it twice.”

“How many times I said it isn’t important–”

“Not to you maybe.”

“Fuck, Nursey, would you just listen to me for one minute!” Will shouts, and Nursey clamps his mouth shut, but continues to glares at him.  “I’ve been talking about you to Alex since day one.  Day one!  She knows a fuckton of things that you don’t!  So when I tell her that I can barely stand to be around you sometimes, she knows that it’s not because I hate you!  It never is and it never was.”

Nursey snorts derisively.  “’She knows things you don’t.’  Super convincing argument, Poindexter.  I’m supposed to just–take your word for it?  Oh, of course, because you said you don’t hate me, and just because you said it, it must be true.  Yeah, fuck you.”

“If I didn’t love you so much, I’d punch you in your fucking face right now,” Will quips.

Nursey’s brow furrows.  “What did you say?”

“That I want to punch you?”

“No, the other part.”

“If I didn’t lo–oh for fuck’s sake,” Will groans, throwing his head back, praying for death to take him quickly.  It’s become such a natural part of his emotions when he’s around Nursey that it’s no wonder it finally slipped out on accident.

“I’m going to guess that that’s what your sister knows that I don’t, right?” Nursey questions, and Will expected him to sound shocked or angry not–fucking bemused.

“Yep, and if you’re going to laugh at me, you better leave right fucking now, because not even that will stop me from punching you,” Will says, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands.

“I’m not going to laugh,” Nursey says.  “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Will doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything.

“I think–I think I understand what you were saying now,” Nursey says, and Will feels the bed dip gently as Nursey perches next to him.  “It would be hard to see me every day–be in close quarters when you feel the way you do.  You were scared that you would say something like you just did.”

Will nods.  “Doesn’t matter though, ‘cause I said it just now.”

“Now.  Later.  Either way, I wouldn’t have minded,” Nursey says quietly.  “I’m glad it’s out there now.”

There’s a strange, swooping feeling in Will’s stomach as he lowers his hands away from his face.  “Nursey–” is all he gets out before Nursey is pressing their lips together.

It takes Will a second, but he kisses back.

“You know I was excited to be sharing a room with you because I was hoping you would eventually figure out how I felt, right?” Nursey asks.

“Oh.”

“Have I mentioned that you continue to surprise me?”

“No,” Will answers, his brain still struggling to string words together that aren’t he kissed me he kissed me he kissed me.

“Well you are,” Nursey says.  “I would’ve never guessed that you would feel that way–or that you would be the one to say it first.”

“S-same t-though,” Will stutters, the stutter in his voice matching the stuttering of his heart.

“So–do you think you can stand to share a room with me now?” Nursey asks, and if Will didn’t want to kiss him again, he would shove him off the bed.

Yours to Hold

Jughead x Reader

Jughead is dating Betty,  and the reader is doing everything in their power to make sure that he doesn’t find out they like him. Based on the requested song: Yours to Hold by Skillet.

Warnings: Swearing (like one, again.)

Word Count: 2,240

A/N: This kind of took on a mind of it’s own as I kept writing. I had an idea for this being like super sad but like I never want Jug to be hurt ever so I let my hands write while my mind wandered. I was also thinking about doing a literal interpretation of the lyrics, but I wasn’t feeling that either. This felt right, i guess? It’s more metaphorical. I hope it’s still okay!


i see you standing here

but you’re so far away

starving for your attention

you don’t even know my name

Betty and Jughead had been an official couple for two months. Two months you had to push down your feelings you’ve had for him since grade nine. Two months you couldn’t walk down the hall without trying to avoid eye contact with both of them. Two months of your heart breaking over and over, every time you saw him climb to her window from your house across the street. You never pegged yourself for the girl next door, but here you were anyway. Although you were pretty sure that this time you wouldn’t be getting the guy.  It tore you up inside, always being the one that likes but isn’t liked back. It’s not like you and Jughead were close, you reasoned with yourself, so it’s not like he would’ve known, but you were good enough acquaintances to nod to each other in the hallway or share glances in the classroom when the teacher said something stupid.

You mainly knew Jughead and Betty and Archie through Veronica, your closest friend since she moved here at the end of last summer. You guys were a perfect fit, she needed someone spill her secrets to and you were someone who wouldn’t tell a soul. Who would you have to tell, anyway? The most social interaction you had was when you went to art club, but even then you kept to yourself and your drawings. Your drawings couldn’t hurt you.

What did hurt you, though, is that sometimes, on the best occasion, Jughead would come to you. Well, he would come sit beside you. You would draw in Pop’s diner late at night when you didn’t feel any inspiration from the school studio, so he would come and sit across from you with his laptop to write. It only happened once or twice, but every time it did your stomach started to turn and you couldn’t help but smile as your pencil hit the paper. It only hurt because it didn’t happen every day.

You were at your locker, going through the motions until you could go to the art room at the end of the day, and you were about to get books for your next class when Ronnie saunters up beside you.

“Hey girl, you hear the news?” she asks, her books wrapped in her arms, her bag slung over her shoulder in a way that only she could make fashionable.

“What?” you ask, exchanging the books in your hand for the ones on the top shelf. You grab your sketchbook, secretly filled with drawings and pictures taken of Ronnie’s gang, random kids in the hall, and Jughead. An overwhelmingly abundance of Jughead. You like to observe just like him, you just draw what you see instead of writing it. This sketch book was your version of his novel, which of course you heard about from Ronnie who heard it from Betty.

You probably knew more than you should about them, but whenever Ronnie started talking about them,  you didn’t stop her.

“The stuff about Polly!” she smirks, knowing that she’s just egging you on.

“Polly? Betty’s sister? Why would I care about her?” you ask, closing your locker, your face scrunching up just a bit, books in hand.

“Betty told me that there’s rough water in loveland.” she says, motioning for you to walk with her down the hall.

“Really?” you try to sound disinterested, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Mhmmmm. Betty has been so focused on her sister, and so now Jug has been cancelling plans, not showing up on time…” she trails off, looking over at you as she flips her hair over her shoulders.

“That must be… rough.” you say, unsure of how to respond.

“It’s your chance! I’ve been talking you up to all of them, I think you should make a real effort to get to know them.” she urges, turning to you and putting a hand on your arm. You were at your next class, her class just the next door down.

“You know what happened last time.” you remind her, remembering what happened when she tried to introduce you the last time. You could barely get two words out to any of them, fumbling over sentences and stuttering over the simplest of words. They all laughed it off, but there was definitely an awkward feel hanging in the air, and Jughead didn’t even look up from his laptop.

“I think you’re ready, you’re basically my best friend now, so they have to accept you. And beside, it’s my chance too.” she says, referencing her small crush on Betty as she blows a kiss and walks to her class. You sigh and roll your eyes, hoping that maybe this time she was right. Maybe this time you wouldn’t be the invisible girl in the corner, doodling in her notebook.

you’re going through so much

don’t you know that I could be the one to hold you?

It was movie night at Ronnie’s house. You were in your pajamas, which were just short shorts and a baggy t-shirt, ready to settle in to watch whatever she picked, since it was her turn.

“Did you hear?” she asks, walking in with the popcorn.

“What?” you ask, looking her up and down.

“Jug broke up with Betty.” she says, sitting down and crossing her legs.

“No, no way he would ever do that.” you say, shaking your head. That’s impossible, Jughead was head over heals for her just like you were for him, only difference is that he made his feelings public.

“He did. Betty told me that the reason he gave her was because there was someone else.” she smirks.

“No way, who?” you ask, wondering if it was maybe Josie, or even Ronnie herself.

The doorbell rings before she has a chance to answer.

“Be right back.” she says, setting the popcorn down and raising her eyebrows as she goes to the door.

A few minutes later she comes back with Archie and Jughead.

Your eyes grow wide as you stare down Veronica.
“I thought my boys could join us.” she says nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders as she sits down to the left of you.

Archie takes a seat next to Veronica, leaving the only spot open on the right, so of course that’s where Jug sits.

You try to give him a smile without completely embarrassing yourself, and you think you see a smile as he gives you a nod of his head, his eyes lifting to look at the screen.

“Choice of movie?” you ask Ronnie, breaking the tension that had probably only been building in your mind.

“I thought we could let them decide, since they’re new members to movie night.” she says with a smile, looking from Archie to Jughead.

“I don’t know Veronica, I think whatever you pick is probably good enough.” Archie chimes in, pulling his sleeves down as he crosses his arms. It was clear that if Archie didn’t have a crush, he definitely didn’t want to get on Ronnie’s bad side.

“Alright, Titanic it is.” she says with a small laugh, getting up to put in the movie. She then dims the lights and plops right down next to you, giving you a wink as she does.

The movie begins and you sigh in relief. There’s no more talking for at least the next three hours. You lean into the back of the sofa, ready to enjoy the movie when Jughead brushes your shoulder with his. You stiffen. Was that on purpose?

You take a deep breath and begin to relax a little. Just as you do though, Jughead puts his arm around the back of the couch, inches away from your neck.

You glance at Ronnie, wondering if she’s seeing any of this. The smirk on her face says it all. The movie isn’t even 15 minutes in and you can’t seem to stand it anymore. You get up and mumble something about getting a drink, going to her kitchen to get yourself a glass of water. You take a deep breath.

You turn around and run straight into Jughead, spilling water not only all over yourself, but all over him too.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” you manage to get out, scrambling to find where Ronnie keeps her paper towels or washcloths, or anything.

“Don’t worry about it, it fits the theme.” he says, gesturing back towards the screen. You can’t help but chuckle at the comment. Sometimes you forget how funny Jughead can be.

“Yeah I guess so. ‘I’ll never let go, Jack.’” you mimic the movie in a high pitch voice, but still low enough to not disturb your friends in the other room.

“Do you wanna get out of here? I mean Titanic is great and all, but I do not want to be here when they start making out.” he scoffs.

“Who? Rose and Jack?” you question, a look of confusion on your face. You didn’t think that part was so bad.

“No, Archie and Veronica.” he corrects, a smirk playing on his lips, “dinner at Pop’s? You’re buying. It’ll make up for the water damages.”

You turn to notice that Archie has his hand on the back of the couch over Veronica, just like Jughead did with you.

He turns and walks away without another word, going out to his car, you guessed. Only then did you start to panic. Did Jughead Jones just ask you out? Was this backwards upside down reverse april fools day or something?

You grab your backpack and head for the door, only then realizing that you’re still in pajamas. You shake your head at the thought, this wasn’t a date. This was just his lame attempt at finding an excuse to get out of movie night. This would be just like the other times, where you would sit in silence.

you will see someday

that all along the way

i was yours to hold

Sitting in Pop’s on a late Friday night was like a low-key therapy session. You just hoped Ronnie wouldn’t be too mad that you left without telling her, but she seemed preoccupied and you were pretty sure she would understand.

Jughead ordered a burger and a milkshake while you just had a water. You couldn’t risk any food stains getting in your sketchbook.

You pulled out the one you always carried around in your backpack, opening to a blank page before setting it out on the table where he could see. Unlike the last few times, though, he doesn’t pull out his laptop. He doesn’t even have his bag with him.

“No novel tonight?” you question.

He shakes his head as you pull out a pencil. He might not have his novel but you sure as hell weren’t giving up your drawing.

The first pencil stroke to the page and it’s like your hand knew automatically what to do. It went directly to the curves in his hair, the lines on his face. You were just hoping he was too focused on his food to notice.

“I’m sorry about Betty.” you say under your breath, just trying to make conversation.

“Don’t be. I realized I only liked her because she was filling a void.” he states, stirring his straw in his shake. He was trying to be poetic, you could tell.

“Void?” you ask.

“I’ve had a crush on this girl since about grade eight, been real quiet about it, not even Arch knows. We haven’t had many conversations, she seems distant, nose always in a book. I just started hanging out with her more and more recently, though, so I’m hoping I at least get a date.” he explains, hope in his eyes that you don’t see. You’re too focused on the details of his beanie.

“That’s a real quick rebound.” you say, not really paying attention.

“Not if they’ve always been there.” he says. That gets your attention, and your eyes lock with his. Was he talking about you? He couldn’t be, there was no way.

You’re too caught up in your own thoughts you don’t even realize that he’s snatched your sketchbook right from under you.

“Don’t-” you say, a little too late. He’s already looking, and that one page leads to him flipping through all of them. Page after page of his beanie, his hair, his jawline. You probably knew his features better than anyone out there.

“Wow, you really did draw me like one of the french girls.” he remarks, a huge smile on his face. You liked his smile, very much so.

He meets your gaze and sets the book down. There’s something between you, something that wasn’t there before. It was the start of something, just what it was you didn’t know yet, but it was exciting, thrilling, and it made your stomach turn into knots and your heart flutter in your chest.

“I’ve always been there, Jug.” you say, finally letting it out.

“I know,” he says, leaning closer across the table, “and I’m mad at myself for taking so long to realize it.”

Closer and closer still, you close your eyes and try to brace yourself for what’s going to be the most thrilling ride of your life. Sink or swim, this ship was one you wanted to be on.   


Tag list: @always-chocolate   (if you wanna be on my tag list just ask!)

Following the attack on the Institute Alec discovers Magnus put him in his will.

A few days following the attack on the Institute Alec went to the Hotel Dumort to apologize to Raphael for his earlier behavior. He felt wrong in his actions and Magnus was close with Raphael, so he wanted to make sure everything was settled between them without any hard feelings either way. He certainly hadn’t expected to find out what he did.

When Alec had appeared at the door, the vampires in Raphael’s clan watched him warily, but made no attempt to stop him from entering despite having injured their clan leader only days ago. He assumed Raphael had instructed them not to hurt him, probably for Magnus or Izzy’s sake more than his own.

When Alec arrived at Raphael’s office it became readily apparent that Raphael had entirely misread the situation. He believed Alec had come to discuss something that Magnus had told him about days before. And in that moment Alec discovered that Magnus had gone to Raphael the day following the attack on the Institute and told Rafael that he had created a new will.

Raphael even showed him a copy of the will. There were only four recipients in the will. Raphael, Catarina, Tessa, and Alec. But practically everything was to go to Alec. Most of his fortune, his homes in the far reaches of the world, including his New York loft, and almost all his possessions. The remainder of his fortune, which was still a rather hefty sum, was to be given to Raphael, Catarina and Tessa and the remainder of his possessions, mostly magical items and spell books, were to be given to Catarina. Magnus had also given Raphael a letter to give to Alec in the event of his death, which Raphael had refused to give to him.

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