is it just me or do her glasses get bigger every series

Multiverse Lovers - Part Three -Stuart Twombly

Title: The Happenings of Google

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Pairing: Stuart Twombly/Reader

Word Count: 11,329

Warnings: 18+, NSFW,  Dirty Dancing, Dirty Talking, Face Riding, Voyeurism, Strip Tease, Rough Cowgirl, Stuart Feeding You, Multiple Orgasms, Alcohol Use, Mentions of Strippers

Notes: I know this is quite a bit longer than Stiles’ chapter, but it’s due to the dialogue from the movie that is included. And legit, part of this was inspired by my deep love for @minhosmeanhoe and the things she loves. She knew I was putting this in here and knows it was because of her. Lemme know your thoughts yo. 

Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

A small groan slipped from your lips, your body shifting on the plush red couch you were laying on. Your arms wrapped around the first thing it could, waking up being the last thing on your mind. Your face dug further into the soft material – a pillow you assumed – trying to ignore the soft laughs of the other people in the room at the noises you made and their own witty banter about some unknown subject.


You knew you weren’t in the blue jeep anymore. You were fully clothed. A bright light hovered over your head, the sound of fingers clicking away on keyboards and people’s low mumbling hit your ears, making them twitch at the noise. Rushed footsteps were heard trudging around the small room, every footfall resonating off the walls.

Where am I? You asked yourself, willing your body to open your eyes slowly. The bright lights blinded you, a louder groan escaping your lips and your eyes closing again quickly. A few of the people in the room whispered to each other, catching the sound you made. Heavy steps raced towards you, the couch shifting slightly under the weight of the person leaning against it.

“Wake up already, sleepy head. We have the next intern challenge to complete,” their voice said, the underlying husky tone filling your ears. You shuffled on the couch, eyes cracking open once more to focus on the person hovering over you. The whiskey-brown eyes you met sparkled, though the twinkle was faintly caught between the thick, black-rimmed glasses resting on his nose. He smirked down at you, poking your forehead. “Wake up, loser. We need your small brain.”

Stuart fucking Twombly. Is. Truly. An ass.

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The Preacher’s Daughter

Author: @stilinski-jpeg

A/N: This collab is so funny because I literally had this idea and Camile was like “I’m already writing one.” Nia and Camile strike again. This is going to be a series, so buckle up babes it’s going to be a hell of a ride. I have to thank @minhosmeanhoe (Camile) for pushing me to do this when my motivation was lacking and always being there for me when I get stuck. She also proofread and edited this because she’s literally the best. Okay, without further ado.

Paring: ReaderxMitchfuckingRapp

Warnings: Is it a stilinski-jpeg/minhosmeanhoe fic without smut?? Otherwise, no warnings.

Word Count: 4682

Camile’s version: here

Song: Good Kid by Former Vandal

Originally posted by dylanobrienbr

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Dangerously in love (part i)

Amour, Affluence, and Ammo

Author’s Note: Literally been working on this forever and I’m in love with the concept so I hope you guys like it too. Was gonna post this later but ehhh I’m impatient. This is a mafia!au because if you guys didn’t know I pretty much made my Tumblr account because of @spidereyhes courtesy of thirsty Thursday. I was the og mafia tom anon and tbh love the concept so I started an account and decided maybe I should use some of the many ideas I have instead of continuously bothering her. Also huge ass shoutout to @dusktillholland because holy shit Abby has helped me like every step of this process and let me bounce off ideas and helped me come up with ideas and I think throughout the story there will be lines that are the ones she messaged me because they’re literally so good. She is a fucking saint and pretty much knows how this story is gonna go (plus some twists and additions) and is just straight up awesome so check her out. I hope you guys really enjoy this or even if you don’t give me some suggestions on how to improve it. I accept good, bad, meh feedback and love the support you guys give. I feel so tacky asking for this but like please reblog or like comment/mail/message me because seriously I want to hear what you guys think because this AU means a lot to me. I especially want to hear what you guys think about Layla. So yeah, I hope you love it as much as me. (P.S. the first chunk of writing takes place in the past and then after that it’s present day).


Part ii

Word Count: 5216

Warnings: Crime, violence, sexualness, swearing, probably other things

Taglist: @tbholland @stephie-senpai @cersei-lannister @i-love-superhero @chinalois @behxndthemask @ttholland @johnmurphys-sass @harperislit @curlshawnholland @theharrisontomytom

Other Taglist: @fufaation15

Footsteps echoed through a guarded hallway. At the center a women in a pastel yellow prison jumpsuit with the number 00098221 across the back along with the name of the correctional center. Her wrists and ankles bound tightly. She was an interesting beauty, with a dark aura and elegance shrouding her. Her hair was braided out of her face, courtesy of her cellmate. Her eyes glanced around the hallway watching all that was going on. She locked eyes with a girl maybe around 19 sniveling, tears streaming down her eyes. Pathetic. They were going to eat her up in there. But there wasn’t anything Layla could do. The guard accompanying her took her to a desk guarded behind glass. 

“Layla Y/L/N, correct?” The officer said. Layla nodded peering over the desk. She subconsciously played with the chains binding her wrists together. The bracelets were the only accessory she had for a while, maybe she’d miss them. The officer behind the desk disappeared into the office before returning with a bag labeled 00098221 accompanied by a mugshot. The prisoner allowed a small smile to pull on her lips. Probably her best one yet. She was never a fan of pictures but figured she might as well put on a show if anyone could see it.

The current officer holding onto her led her to the same room she’d been frisked down in when originally taken in. Other women were in a similar situation than her. Oh, how she remembered that day. She used to fight up but at this point knew the routine all too well. She laughed quietly watching one person sit on the floor and pout. ‘Oh honey that won’t get you anywhere’ She thought. Her hands were uncuffed first and then her feet. She stripped out of the ill-fitting jumpsuit as well as stripping off the provided underwear and bra. She opened her back and pulled out her original booking outfit, just as she remembered. A Tommy Hilfiger bandeau top, windbreaker, jeans, sunglasses, and her jewelry. She put on her clothes before grabbing her wedding ring. She kissed the gem in the middle before slipping it onto her finger. Lastly, she finished off with a necklace.

“All done,” She alerted her guard. He nodded and led her back to the desk. She was free, well she had to do some paperwork but she could finally leave this hellhole. The words the front desk women were saying went in one ear and out the ear, as Layla’s fingers quickly worked to sign everything.  

“That’s all Mrs. Y/L/N. We hope to not see you back here,” The front desk lady joked. Layla forced out a fake laugh.

“Of course not, I think I learned my lesson,” She smiled. Her guarding officer led her to the room she remembered as the visiting room and gestured she could go free. Her eyes scanned the room until she landed on exactly who she was looking for. It took all of her not to run up to him, but she had an image to uphold. She sauntered across the room and tapped the man on the shoulder. He turned and a large smile graced his face.

“Excuse me, were you in prison or a spa?” The man chuckled taking in her appearance. 

“Mmm I do feel quite relaxed,” She smiled. She leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He moved to deepen the kiss but she blocked his lips with a finger. “Later darling.”

A coo caught Layla’s attention and she peered down. A bouncing baby girl sat before her. Tiny, chubby, and most importantly her’s. She picked up the angel and pulled her closer into her arms shutting her eyes for a moment. It was the first time she could actually hold her, hug her, all those things she couldn’t do for months. 

“I hope you remember mommy,” Layla cooed, holding onto her child like she was going to disappear from her arms. The baby was small, no more than three months old but she was bigger than her mother had wanted. Her mom still wanted that infant, that she only saw for brief moments before she was whisked away and left in a cold hospital room chained to a bed next to an officer who had a gun on his hip not trusting her after her mid-labor outburst. Her birthing moment was stripped away from her, a majority of her pregnancy spent in a cell having to figure out if this slop was even good for her baby girl. She got fucked over and while she appeared calm, cool and collected, make no mistake the woman was fuming. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” She said coldly.

“Language, Layla,” Her husband quipped. She rolled her eyes. 

“She can’t understand yet Julian don’t worry. And honestly with us as her parents it’s a miracle if her first word doesn’t end up being cunt,” She said holding her baby girl to her chest. Julian sighed but nodded knowing how she could get. She had been in a cell for months, so he couldn’t really judge her behavior. The small family walked out of the correctional facility and down to the man’s Mercedes. Layla slid on her sunglasses to protect against the suns rays and pulled her daughter closer to her chest, to provide warmth. “It’s freezing outside, I bought her all those coats and all she has on is a thin hoodie.”

“Because she’s just as stubborn as you are, she cried every time I put it on and after wrestling with her for maybe 30 minutes I said screw it and sped over here because I knew you wouldn’t want to be left waiting.”

“Well, I am her mother so she’s going to be strong-willed. You probably just didn’t put it on correctly,” She dismissed. The man rolled his eyes but chose not to argue with his tense wife. He had seemed her a couple of times, behind glass. He never told her about their child. The prisoner couldn’t bear to hear about the baby girl growing up without her. He watched as his gorgeous wife sat in a dank room across from him, attempting to hold it together. She was strong but the life was draining from her every moment she spent in there. The mischevious light flickered from her eyes and her skin seemed to lose its luster. His wife was a free spirit and to see her chained down hurt him inside too. He glanced at the love of his life and saw that the life was already returning to her form, she radiated the same power she did walking into the prison telling him not to worry because she’d ‘make it her bitch.” She did exactly that but even though no one dared to fuck with her she was still miserable. To him she was a goddess and seeing her brought down by mortals was sickening.

Layla took a spot in the backseat so she could keep her eyes on her baby while the little one sat in a car seat. As soon as the baby was buckled in they drifted off to sleep.

The car ride home was quiet. Only the radio in the background added to the atmosphere as they made their way down the roads. Layla requested to make a quick pitstop at a gas station. She swung the doors open of the cheap venue and went over to the cashiers stand, tipping her sunglasses.

“Never thought I’d see you again,” A giddy blonde woman said. Layla shrugged, while she wasn’t happy about the situation she got lucky. She was only charged with one crime, not the multiple she’d racked up.

“Yeah well, you know I don’t do well with being caged,” The newly freed woman mused. There was a tension in the air.

“Look, Layla, I know we made a pact but I couldn’t leave my parents for so long and you’ve just always been fearle-”

“So it was okay for me to take the fall for your mistake, yeah I get it,” Layla cut her off.

“Well you’ve always been so fearless and they were pressuring me so I just-”

“I didn’t come here to play nice Gia.”

“I didn’t betray you! I got punished too.”

“Oh you spent a month in a county jail, picked up some trash, and have to wear that ankle bracelet. Gia I had to give birth in handcuffs, I haven’t seen my child. I’ve always had your back and the one time I needed you to take the fall for me you decided to be selfish. I don’t want to hear it.”

Gia quickly shut up and nodded. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me many, I’ll just add this to the fucking list,” She spat. She glanced over her shoulder at her husband in the car. “Let’s just speed this up.”

The backstabber got from behind her post and went to the storage room. Sitting on the floor were two duffel bags. Layla scooped them up and strutted out of the store without another word. She dumped the mysterious bags in the truck before reclaiming her seat.

“And that was about?” Her husband asked.

“In due time.” They had a lot to talk about. Prisons didn’t really allow for the privacy that one’s in their lines of work needed. Another hour got them to a quiet house out in the woods.

“Welcome home Queen,” Julian said helping her and the baby out of the car. Layla felt like she was in a fantasy. 

“You actually did it?”

“Well I’ve been working on it for a while, I wanted it to be a surprise.”

She pulled him into a passionate kiss, grabbing at his face to pull him closer. Ever since they officially started dating they wanted to build their own house away from everyone. That way they could have their privacy and not have to worry about their reputations. He made that come true.

“It’s amazing,” She mused, making him laugh.

“You haven’t even seen the inside yet,” He said carrying the baby carrier in one hand and grasping onto his wife’s hand with the other. She grabbed her duffel bags, slinging them over her shoulder and unlocking the door. 

Just like her dreams. A cozy little home for them to live in. She dropped her bags down and locked the door. 

“Maybe I should go away more often you get really productive,” She teased, sitting on the couch. Julian rolled his eyes and sat next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders.

“We have much to discuss,” He said.

“Do we? There’s not much to miss,” She trailed off. He sighed.

“Layla, I want you to stop being in the business,” He blurted. Her eyes bugged out of her head and she stood up.

“Are you fucking insane?” She demanded.

“Lower your voice, she’s asleep. And no I haven’t. She needs a mother, I can’t do this without you.”

“Then you would need to quit too because I can’t do this without you.”

“Layla, your team is different than mine. That girl sold you out. She made you seem like a monster if you hadn’t taken a plea you would have been gone for god knows how long.”

“Julian, I am done with her and working with people for good.”

Layla preferred being a lone wolf in the first place, but when an old friend came to her for help that tiny heart Layla claims she doesn’t have gave in. She should have known not to trust the clumsy and spineless girl. When they were younger she snitched on one of their other friends for shoplifting. But she felt like being giving and helping her friend steal from a wealthy douchebag.

The plan went perfectly until blabbermouth left a glove with her fingerprints. In interrogation, she folded and spun a tale about how Layla forced her into stealing from the guy just to save her ass.

But that was the past now and there was no way she’d go in doing business with anyone ever again.

“Darling, it’s dangerous. Why can’t you just let me handle finances?”

“Because I’m not a quitter alright,” She said.

“It’s not quitting it’s being smart.”

“Julian, I love you with that thing in my chest that I may or may not have, people call a heart. And I know you love me with that big heart you have, but I’m going to do this and I’m going to keep working until I’m the best.”

“And if you end up in prison again?”

“Well next time I won’t be pregnant so I’ll have no qualms about escaping. You know I’m smart and more than capable. I’ll let you be a big boss and I’ll be my own boss,” She said gently caressing his face. He weakened at her touch and nodded.

“It’s not like I could stop you anyway.”

“That’s the spirit, besides you should be happy with me.” She waltzed over to the bags and unzipped them to reveal bundles and bundles of cash. “At least the dumbass could hide it until I come out.”

“Guess she’s not completely useless.”

“And this money is going to be saved for my baby girl.” She picked up the sleeping infant, cradling her close. “She’s going to have everything in the world that her mommy can get her hands on. She’s going to be so spoiled because she’s a little princess. I love you my darling Y/N, you’ll be as badass as mommy one day and there will be hell if anyone takes you away from me again. Isn’t that right?”

A glossy black Rolls Royce sat in front of an illustrious hotel. The man sat in the back of his car scrolling through his phone. He wore a fitted black suit, hugging against his muscular frame. His brown hair gelled perfectly back and his lips looked soft. His demeanor exuded power. Underneath his eyes appeared soft and puffy showing that he probably ran low on sleep. Looking down at his Rolex, he checked the time. 12:50, asshole’s late again

The door to the car swung open and a man dressed in a tight black t-shirt and jeans got in the back. His casual attire contrasted against the lux creme leather seats. His hair tousled just the right way, giving him a rebellious carefree look.

The man who owned the car glanced up at him unamused. “You’re the only person who dares leave me waiting.”

The other man held a wicked grin. “That’s because I’m your best friend. Also, I always come bearing good news.” 

“The good news being what Haz?” The boss said fixing a stray strand of hair. He still appeared annoyed, but he slightly softened up.

“We found him, Tom. He has a place out of the city,” Haz said enthusiastically. 

“Let’s take a trip then.”

Y/N’s eyes glanced down at her gold watch. The audacity of this professor to actually lecture for the whole hour and a half period. She tapped a pen against her journal. There were doodles displayed on the pages like most college students, except it didn’t contain the normal hearts and flowers. 

Lines and figures, scattered across multiple pages showing floorplans. Everything was detailed showing every entrance, exit, and security post.

Slowly, students began zipping up their backpacks and rising from their seats. Y/N slammed her notebook shut and tucked it into her backpack. Leaving the stuffy lecture hall and walking out into the clean air, helped clear her senses. Finally, her weekend was getting started at a prompt 1:30 on a Friday afternoon. A quick 10-minute walk took her to a large parking lot, where she waited by a silver Mercedes. 

Y/N zipped up her leather jacket, feeling colder the longer she had to wait out here. Where was she? She’s never been good with time management. Before, she found herself getting upset tall heels clicked against the pavement, making Y/N glance up.

“Sorry, I’m late. I was politely debating my last test grade,” A tall Puerto Rican girl wearing a trench coat and thigh high boots said coming up and unlocked her pristine car. She popped the trunk, dumping in her backpack and allowing her friend to do the same, before slamming it shut.

“I’m sure it was very polite Ms. Future Lawyer,” Y/N teased getting into the passenger’s seat.

Her friend giggled, getting into the driver’s seat. She whipped out of her parking space, almost hitting someone else. 

“Isabel!” Y/N screeched, as her friend meekly attempted to drive off after the almost accident.

“Sorry sorry sorry,” Isabel said, knowing how jumpy Y/N could get. She made sure to stay extra focused until she was able to get on the highway. “What are your plans for the weekend?”

“Just spending time with family, working on assignments. I have some essays and tests and projects, you know the usual.” Her response earned a groan from Isabel.

“You’re so boring, we can go shopping or off to brunch. We can go clubbing or do something. C’mon…”

“No, Isa. I’m swamped.”

Isa pouted, knowing her friend had a stubborn tendency that wouldn’t be budged. The rest of the ride consisted of small talk about classes. Y/N talked about her classical literature lecture and Isa went on about her chemistry lab. They took this ride every day since both girls preferred staying home with their families instead of in a dank depressing dormitory. 

“I believe this is your stop, don’t forget to give me 5 stars on Uber,” Isabel giggled, pulling to her usual stop in front of a beautiful red house. 

“Thanks, girl, see you Monday,” Y/N said, grabbing her backpack and walking into the driveway. Isabel made sure her friend was safely inside the gate, before pulling away and driving to her own home minutes away.

Y/N waited a few moments before quietly making her way across the sides of the house, and jumping over the back gate. Her landing was sly, almost catlike in her pose as she hit the ground. 

The wooded area she now found herself in was thick, piles and piles of colorful leaves that reached her knees. Trudging through the noisy mess, she drifted further and further away from the beautiful neighborhoods and crowded roads. A smile graced her lips when she finally saw a moderately sized stone cottage style home. Ivy began to curl up the walls of the home, giving it a dreamy whimsical charm. Something stopped the smile on her face though when she noticed a barrage of expensive black cars in front of the home.

Oh shit.

On the interior of the cozy home was a soft scene. Tom sat by a toasty fireplace, taking in the warmth. He shut his eyes, appreciating the peaceful moment. He hummed contently for a few moments.

“Boss, he isn’t giving up,” A voice said cutting off his moment of meditation. Tom sighed and turned around seeing two of his workers, drag in the man who dared cross him. The man was an older gentleman, but in exceptionally good shape for his age. One of the workers kicked him in the shins and forced him to his knees allowing Tom to tower over him. The younger man had changed clothes from his normal dapper suit to a tight fitted black turtleneck, black jeans, and boots.

“You’re a smart man Julian, I’ll give you that. Just not smart enough for me,” Tom said pacing in front of the defeated man. “You know you should really work on the people you hire. Really need to strike fear into their hearts. If I ever doubted one of these guys would cross me, they’d be gone.” He took a pause as he noticed his men were now uneasy. “Your wife gets that Julian, but not you and it’s a shame. It really is. Because now you’re stuck in this situation all because of a few rats in your crew.”

Julian licked his now busted open lips. The metallic taste of blood dug into his taste buds. He made sure to keep eye contact with the younger man, not letting him show submission. The kid was cocky and he’d be damned if he let some pretty boy on a power trip be his downfall after years of working in this business. 

“I like Layla, Julian, hence why I’ve decided to leave her out of this proceeding,” Tom continued.

“You leave her out because you know you don’t have a chance against the both of us,” Julian spat, which was quickly met by one of Tom’s goons kicking him in the stomach.

“Keep interrupting and see what happens,” Tom warned. “As I was saying let’s keep this man to man. I want my fucking money, Julian.” Silence filled the air. “That was me allowing you to speak.”

“Now why would I give you the satisfaction?” Julian said in a tone one takes when talking to a child. Condescending with an air of false friendliness. 

“Ooh, so you’re not going to deny that you’ve stolen from me. I appreciate the honesty,” Tom mocked. “Now where is it?”

“Well that’s the question, isn’t it. If you’re as smart as you claim to be there should be no problem with you finding it yourself.”

Y/N cautiously maneuvered around her house, making sure not to be seen. She army crawled until she got to the back entrance. Quietly, she wiggled her key in the lock, cracked the door open slightly and crawled into the kitchen. She softly shut the door and decided to hide in the cabinet under the sink. Voices danced from the living room.

“No, no, no I don’t play games. I’m in control here and you’re at my mercy. So don’t make me ask again,” An unfamiliar voice said. Y/N looked puzzled attempting to place the posh accent hurling threats. 

“I’m not scared of some 20-something year old who had this business gifted to him on a silver platter,” A recognizable voice said. Dad. Y/N now felt her heart beating out of her chest. Her dad was outnumbered and at the mercy of someone who didn’t seem amused. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her phone to call her mom. Normally she wasn’t the type to bug her mother while out on a mission (especially one as extensive and risky she was on that required her to be gone for months), but this was an emergency. Accidently Y/N put the call on speaker, making the phone ring loudly. She fumbled around, quickly turning the phone off and curling up, praying to God no one heard.

Time stood still, her breath felt caught in her chest as the cabinet door swung open. She gasped as large hands pulled her out of her hiding spot and roughly bringing her to her feet. Her eyes met dreamy chocolate brown ones which she would normally have appreciated, had he not had a monster grip on her wrist. 

“And there’s the princess…” He teased. It was the same voice she wasn’t able to recognize. He held her wrists tightly with one hand, while the other picked up the phone and looked at who she attempted to call. “No need to bring mommy dearest into this now is there?”

Words didn’t form in Y/N’s mouth, her only response was to attempt to push out of the man’s hands. She pulled and wiggled and wrestled. He turned out to be much stronger than her, flexing as his grip remained firm.

“Careful princess, I wouldn’t act up if I was you,” He taunted, dragging her into the living room. She grunted, still trying to free herself but was placed next to her father forced to her knees. Julian resisted the urge to hang his head in shame at the fact he couldn’t even protect his own daughter.

One of the workers pulled out a rope and tightly bound her hands together. Tom threw his head back in laughter. This was rich. “Things have gotten interesting now haven’t they. Julian, I’d barely believe she was yours, thankfully she has her mother’s good looks.”

Julian stayed silent, licking his lips again trying not to seem nervous. Tom sauntered over towards the two, pulling out a switchblade and pressing a button to reveal the shiny chrome. He hovered sharp metal near Y/N’s face, him ghosting movement less than a centimeter from her skin.

“Does the pretty pretty princess have anything to tell us?” He teased.

“She’s not in the business,” Her father spat. The blade drew closer and closer, threatening to slice through her soft supple skin. “It’s hidden in an account,” He spit out. 

“Where’s the account?” Tom demanded not moving an inch. He could feel her shaky warm breath. 

“The account…it’s under Y/N’s name…at Wellington,” Julian admitted defeat. Tom removed the knife, putting it back in his pocket. Y/N stared at her father with hurt in her eyes. Why was he dragging her into this mess? He had always been so hellbent on keeping her away and now he funneled stolen funds through her name, knowing they could be traced by enemies. He opened his mouth to say something, but Y/N was brought back to her feet with a rough tug. 

“We have a trip to make don’t we darling,” Tom said, removing the rope from her hands. Her wrists still tender from the tight bondage. 

“Don’t you dare hurt her.”

“I’m not going to do anything, just taking her on a little joy ride. Boys get him to text me the specific account information, Harrison you’re in charge until I come back,” Tom ordered holding her wrists in his hands. He strutted out of the house, taking her to his Rolls Royce. The driver opened the door allowing Tom and Y/N into the backseat and locking the door, figuring this wasn’t going to be a joyous ride.

The entire ride Y/N felt her hands shaking, stuck in the car with some guy who despised her father with a passion. The ride was silent, minus the noises expected when being on the road.

The driver promptly stopped the car in front of the bank in question. Y/N knew Wellington banking relatively well considering the fact her father had chosen to hit it up a few years ago.

“You’re going to go in there and ask them what’s the maximum you can withdraw, but take less than the maximum so it’s not suspicious and then come back,” Tom instructed. He then handed her his phone which had the account information on it. Y/N nodded, getting out of the car. She debated on making a run for it, but it was pointless since Tom now knew where she lived. How did he even find them? Her parents were so careful about keeping everything secret. She walked into the large bank, fiddling with her leather jacket.

The line was relatively brief for a Friday afternoon. She forced a smile, getting to the front of the line. The teller seemed friendly enough.

“Hi, I need to make a withdrawal,” Y/N said before rambling off her account information.  

“Wow, someone’s a good saver,” The teller smiled looking at the amount in the account. “How much do you need?”

“Like 4,000,” Y/N threw out a random number. “It’s for my rent, it’s a super nice apartment,” She quickly added. 

The teller nodded, completing the transaction. “Have a nice day.”

“Random question, what’s the maximum withdrawal?” Y/N asked as she took the sealed envelope and tucked it into her jacket pocket. She had half a mind to stash 1 thousand but decided today wasn’t the best day to attempt to push her luck. 

“5,000,” The teller said nonchalantly. “Have a nice day ma’am.”

“You too.” With that Y/N quickly walked out of the bank and got back into the Rolls Royce. She handed Tom the cash and his phone.

“See princess that wasn’t that hard now was it,” He said thumbing through the bands and counting. “Okay, this is 4,000. What’s the max?”

“5,000 a day but doing withdrawals every day is suspicious,” Y/N said quietly. Tom groaned, leaning back into the plush leather seats.

“This is going to take forever,” He grunted. 

“How much is in there?” She asked.

“300,000. Your dad stole 300,000 from me and put it in a fucking account,” He said frustrated. 

“Only 300k? You can’t tell me you’re upset about that much,” She scoffed, feeling a burst of courage. That’s a small amount for her dad in terms of missions. 

“It’s about the principle of the thing princess. No one steals from me and gets away with it.” His hand remained on the cash as if it was going to disappear. 

“And what’s so special about you?” She challenged in a huff. The driver shifted in his seat, rolling the partition up not wanting to be a part of this. He drove Mr. Holland around enough to know it was best to stay out of his business. Tom chuckled, placing a hand on Y/N’s thigh giving it a firm squeeze.

“So many things princess, so many things.”

Tom kept his promise and returned Y/N in one piece, not like he had much of a choice considering she held control over his funds. She ran to her bedroom, trying to take in all that was happening. That left Tom alone with Julian and a couple of security guards. 

“I must say I appreciate you introducing us,” Tom said with the click of the tongue. He knew the man prized his family so this would just drive him up the wall. The father bit his tongue considering he was still heavily outnumbered. “I look forward to seeing her all the time until I get my money back.”

Julian kept his mouth shut as Tom and his men began to file out of the hidden home. “Watch yourself Holland,” The older said to the younger. Tom chuckled, leaving the home and slamming the door behind him.

The father now left in his living room, rubbed his temples. What the hell have I done? Holy shit Layla is going to kill me.

Sansa Stark: The Princess in the Tower

I’ve been thinking about the character archetype that Sansa occupies in ASOIAF universe, and what amused me was when put against her Stark siblings often Sansa seems to not fit in the fantasy genre that hinges so heavily on magic and/or fighting. I feel disappointed when reading analyses of the hero type Sansa occupies because it acknowledges only the most talked about themes: Beauty & the Beast and the Princess in the Tower. While a romance is a huge part of Sansa’s arc, her function is not solely as a paramore. While the step-parent figure is a huge part of her arc, luck isn’t all that helps Sansa survive. She does actively participate in trying to escape by engaging in deception, despite her reduced agency. She isn’t passive. This prompted me to look into the topic more closely into fairy tale and myths that her storyline alludes to, symbolically and structurally. While working on that post I realized while there were far more allusions that the books were making, the Princess in the Tower is the frame of reference her character type indicates. A number of themes Sansa’s storyline borrowed from other stories, but the one common thing is that Sansa often found herself in a very sheltered environment, even as a captive and using her mind to avoid reality. 

She is trapped in courts and castles where no one is her friend - not truly - and she is merely playing the game to survive, not rise. The archetype of the trickster is all that affords her some power in the system in becoming pawn to player but she doesn’t even fit that type completely because she doesn’t want to play the game. The problem with Sansa is that she doesn’t fit into easy compartments more than most characters. Perhaps, it is because she is an exploration that complicates the archetype of the Princess in the Tower, while it doesn’t deconstruct it to take on another type completely. The common thread of isolation and captivity remain constant. Many people ask why this is so. It’s because she doesn’t have the tools that others have and the one she has, she has to hone it before she can strike. However, there is another factor. Wilful ignorance when it comes to dealing with harsh realities. Sansa does get disillusioned over time, but she also actively avoids thinking about certain things, buries memories and even rewrites them for her convenience. If you look closely, Sansa has been a captive of something larger from the beginning of AGOT and pre-series, long before she visibly become a captive. She has always been sheltered and she was modelled in such a way by her Septa’s education as to how a lady should behave that her obedience of societal norms kept her from looking outside the window.

“I don’t care,” Arya said. “The wheelhouse doesn’t even have windows, you can’t see a thing.”

What could you want to see?” Sansa said, annoyed. She had been thrilled by the invitation, and her stupid sister was going to ruin everything, just as she’d feared. “It’s all just fields and farms and holdfasts.

It is not,” Arya said stubbornly. “If you came with us sometimes, you’d see.”  - Sansa I, AGOT

This scene summarises not only the crux of Sansa and Arya’s conflict, but also the defining hindrance in Sansa’s arc. Taking a tale like Red Riding Hood as a warning for young girls not to step into the forbidden forest, Sansa follows it without questioning the lesson. She is prejudiced about it because she has been taught to not look outside. Thus, Sansa has been a Princess in the Tower long before she was made Joffrey’s and Cersei’s or Littlefinger’s ward. A rare flower specifically grown in the sheltered setting of the glass gardens of Winterfell is how Sansa would be described in comparison to Arya, who would be a wildflower. One of the reasons so much of Sansa’s arc is taken up in captivity is to give the reader a sense of Sansa’s helplessness while falling under this archetype, clinging onto her cage even when she feels uncomfortable and escapes it, before he deconstructs and subverts it in a way that retains her femme characteristics. 

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The One With The STD Part 1

Pairing: Bucky x Reader, Nat

Word count: 1,266

Warnings: Swearing, Cheating, STD, angst 18+

A/N: This series is inspired by @amarvelouswritings series Every Other Weekend, just so you’re warned. The magnificient @fandommaniacx betad this for me. Let me know if you wanna be tagged in this! xx

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Originally posted by caps-bucky

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My 63 year old mum wrote a letter to her doctor after a recent physical that she asked if I would be willing to share online. It is regarding the experience of being overweight and how doctors, and the world at large, treat you when you are. It’s a bit lengthy, but please give it a read if you have the time!

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Up Against The Wall - MissMarissa - The 100 (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Fandom: The 100 (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Characters: Bellamy Blake, Clarke Griffin
Additional Tags: kink meme prompt, guard!Bellamy, prisoner!Clarke, Power Imbalance, Inherent consent issues, Pre-Series, Age Difference, clarke is 17, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Angst, Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Dirty Talk, Under-negotiated Kink, Alternate Universe - Met on the Ark Station (The 100)
Series: Part 1 of Kink Meme 2017

“Be clear, Miss Griffin. What, exactly, are you saying?” He demands, his voice thick and graveled.

Clarke considers her words carefully. He could easily use this against her. Does she really want to tack another charge onto the ones she’s already got stacked against her? She smirks, because what more can they possibly sentence her with? She already knows she’s going to be floated at 18. They’re not going to let her live, not when she knows that the ark is on its last legs. She has literally nothing to lose.

She slides her hand back up his chest, teasing at the buckles of his uniform. “I’m saying, I’ll do anything…” She curls her fingers along the collar of the jacket, and assures him with a sultry smile, “You can do whatever you want to me…”

“You know that bribery is against the law, Princess.” He says, with a hint of intrigue. His voice is a rough sound she can practically feel rumbling through her core.

She cocks an eyebrow, “What are they going to do? Float me twice?”

Thank you to @bellohmyblake, @raincityruckus, @bilexualclarke, @youovercomeit, @insideimfeelinpurrdy, @sithkylor, @marauders-groupie@openhandorclosedfist, @electricalice, @bittyab18 and @shere17 for being such solid cheerleaders with all of this. Seriously, you guys have made this fandom and all its drama so much more bearable. 

Full Fic under the cut (Or read on AO3

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Intrigue - Part One

Finally the time has come! Part one of my Lafayette series is complete and what perfect timing because it’s Lafayette’s birthday! I’m super excited about starting this new series and I hope you like it! If you want to be tagged in part two please let me know!

Pairing: Lafayette/ Reader

Era: Late 1700s- early 1800s

Word count: 2000ish

Tag Crew: @musicalmoriarty @imagineham @la-frenchiest-frite @tallish-hobbit @thepaddyb @lafislife @drugsdiggs @marquiis-de-la-baguette @imaginebeinghamiltrash @daveedish @americanrevelation @icanneverbesatisfied @getupoffathathang @withthatbitch @jamisahivemind @a-schuylerr @spn-applepie-imagines @spilledkauffie @cupofkauffie @crazypurplebananas @hanakatsumi @sunshinelafayette @secretschuylersister @patron-saintof-sluts @parksxo @mysterywriter36 @librarychild @shamagangster @okierieteonaodowan-vevo @midnightokieriete

“Don’t look so sullen (Y/N),” your father chastised.

“I’m not sullen Father. I just don’t see why I have to go to the party. It’s terribly boring and all of the men…”

“Enough! You are my only daughter and it is your obligation to go to this party. We are personally invited every year by Monsieur Deforest and I will not tolerate you insulting our host.”

“But Father…” You tried to argue.

“I won’t hear another word (Y/N),” your father interrupted, “Please just try to have a good time and maybe you will catch someone’s eye. Do you like the new dress I brought you back from Paris?

“It’s lovely,” you said quietly as you smoothed your skirt.

“You look like your mother with your hair done like that. Go on now mon cher, you don’t want to be late,” he said with a loving smile.

The Deforest family was the wealthiest family in your town. Their winter ball was something everyone looked forward too as soon as the seasons began to change. There was music, dancing, good food, and everyone who was anyone was invited. You frown as you walked up into the entry way of their mansion. It was no secret to you that your father was hoping that you would find a suitable man at one of these parties and he had taken it upon himself to make sure you attended every single one. It was exhausting to say the least. In a small town such as this there were vary few bachelors that your father found acceptable and none of them had managed to keep your attention. They didn’t seem to enjoy the fact that you were an educated woman with an opinion.

“Here we go,” you whispered as you walked into the ballroom.

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anonymous asked:

What proof do we have that Eris is abusive, other than that characters have said he is? Most held a similar opinion of Rhys, what's the difference? That we have a first person narrator who is privy to the backstory of one but not the other? I'm not trying to be aggressive but I want to know your thoughts. I thought showing was more important than telling in storytelling.

Okay then, like, what ‘proof’ have we got for literally 90% of the things in this series???? Feyre is a 19 year old human girl in a world full of immortal fae. You want an eye witness account for everything in this thing, do you?

 How do I know the war happened the way they said it did? Feyre never saw it, she’s only had characters tell her about it. How do I know Rhys actually hated what he did with Amarantha and didn’t just swap sides right at the end? How do I know Rhys’ dad sucked but his mother was a good person, I’ve only heard him tell me about her, I’ve seen it. How do I know Tamlin’s brothers were awful? Never seen them either. How do I know Beron is really that awful either, I mean maybe he’s wearing a mask too and all the characters are just wrong. How do I know Mor is queer? I’ve never seen her with a girl before, I just have her word for it, maybe she lied. How do I know literally anything in this entire series because WE GET TOLD MOST THINGS NOT SHOWN THEM. 

This is what happens when you have a limited first person pov. The character HAS to get told things in order to tell us things like ???? A little bit of common sense please, do you want me to like, historically fact check Prythian for everything that Feyre tells us about it??? 

And tbh SJM has a pretty crappy habit of doing the whole ‘telling over showing’ thing anyway. See: the entirety of the Throne of Glass series, Mor’s powers in ACOTAR (she’s awesome, really, we promise, we just haven’t actually SEEN her do anything), the assertions that Rhys and co are ~the most powerful ever~ have I actually SEEN that? Can I actually see that? No.  Do I really question these things? No. Because I understand that this is the only way I can actually get some information out of this story and if I only went with what I ‘saw’ and disbelieved everything else I’d have literally nothing?? 

And when it comes to the whole Eris thing, like, dude, it’s not just a couple of characters who’ve said he’s abysmal it’s like, wait let me make a list: 

Tamlin: “His father had her put down. Executed, in front of Lucien, as his two eldest brothers held him and made him watch.” That would be Eris. So at best you’ve got conflicting statements here. 

Lucien: “Lucien crossed his arms, leaning against the back of the couch. “I have to agree with Cassian. Eris is a snake.M, yes, Eris, HIS OWN BROTHER. If anyone was going to know Eris was ~not a bad person~ it’d be Lucien. Lucien who lived in that court. Who knew him. Who Eris apparently cared enough to protect/save, according to him. Eris who apparently cares so much about his mother (as we have seen Lucien does SEEN that is SEEN with our own two eyes) Why the hell would Lucien not know Eris was ‘wearing a mask’. Or maybe…Eris really does suck. 

Rhys: “Eris refused to marry her. Said she’d been sullied by a bastard-born lesser faerie, and he’d now sooner fuck a sow. […]Rhys said with soft wrath, “Eris left her for dead in the middle of their woods.” Idgaf how he tries to spin it later, this is what happened.  

Cassian: “You’re working with that prick,” Cassian cut in, whatever catching-up now over, apparently. He moved to Mor’s side, a hand on her back. He shook his head at Azriel and Rhys, disgust curling his lip. “You should have spiked Eris’s fucking head to the front gates.” 

Amren: “Your whole family is despicable,” Amren said to Lucien.

Mor: At Mor, whose face went white with dread. […]Or at Eris, heir to the Autumn Court, as he strolled into the room. 


And I had the terrible sense that Mor had gone somewhere far, far away as Eris set down his goblet and said, “You look well, Mor.”

The sight of him triggers actual real panic attacks and flashbacks that we can literally see from Feyre’s POV. Five hundred years after the fact and Mor is still traumatised enough by what he did to her to react like this even after all that time. 

Then we have Feyre’s POV herself. Through her we’ve seen Eris laughing alongside his other brothers as Lucien was tortured and nearly killed. 

“I don’t suppose your handsome brothers know, Lucien,” she purred.

“If we did, Lady, we would be the first to tell you,” said the tallest. He was lean, well dressed, every inch of him a court-trained bastard. Probably the eldest, given the way even the ones who looked like born warriors stared at him with deference and calculation—and fear.

 Ah, yes, that would be Eris actively promising help to Amarantha in order to damn Feyre and continue her reign. Then there’s the way Eris hunts down Lucien and Feyre in the Winter Court, actively harms them both. So that’s like…Basically every single main character in this book who’s told you Eris sucks. 

What’s the basis for believing that he doesn’t, out of interest? I mean what ‘evidence’ do you have that he is actually wearing a mask, what do you have that’s so strong it goes against the testimony of multiple characters? Oh I know! You have Eris’ word for it and that’s it. Wow. So unbiased. So convincing. Eris tells us he’s not really a bad guy and that outweighs the half a dozen people who tells us he is! That’s just. Damn. What logic. Can’t argue with that. 

Also, like, I’m sorry, but Rhys’ arc was done properly, Rhys’ redemption wasn’t a retcon it was a followed-through on plan. There were hints UtM that Rhys was not as black as he was painted (He killed the Summer Court faerie outright rather than leaving him to suffer, he repeatedly came to visit Feyre in her cell when no-one else would, he was honest with Feyre about the treatment he received at Amarantha’s hands (a vulnerability on his part), he told her why he was making her dance every night as well as the steps he put in place to protect her, he sent music to her and saved her life, he saved her life and Tamlin’s with the kiss (which Feyre is aware of), he tried to save Feyre’s life while Amarantha was torturing her) 

Rhys was a complex, morally grey character UtM and it’s possible to show a different side to him and a ‘mask’ because there were always hints of him wearing one. What if Ianthe told Feyre she was actually a secret agent working for Prythian but she was forced to act the way she did to keep her cover? What if Amarantha said she’d only dominated Prythian that way to save it from something worse and she too was wearing a mask and working for the greater good? What if Hybern said there was a bigger threat facing them and he had an ulterior motive to this war (and also, I mean, how do you really know Hybern is that awful, we’ve only ever had people tell us about him, maybe he’s misunderstood too!!!!)  @valamerys wrote this out far better than I could in this post, read it too. 

My thoughts are pretty simple, tbh: SJM decided to “”””””redeem”””””” Eris, likely to have him set-up to take over Autumn, now Lucien isn’t an option for that before what with the whole dramatic lost son of Day thing and she did a crap job of it. Like this isn’t some grand morality based character debate that’s going on here, SJM just handled this poorly. In order to make him seem not so bad she had to undo all of the canon that she’d set in place before hand and offer ‘alternative’ explanations for what happened that we’ve never heard about. 

If she planned this all beforehand, if Eris was always wearing a mask why weren’t there hints of it before? Why didn’t she have Tamlin tell Feyre he got an anonymous tip-off the day he saved Lucien’s life from his brothers (which is what Eris claimed). Why wouldn’t Lucien defend him a little, say at least he cared about their mother/was sometimes kinder to him than the others? Why wouldn’t Rhys say that in the arranged marriage that petrified Mor, Eris was as unwilling as she was, that he argued against it? (Eris would have gone through with this marriage regardless of what it did to Mor if she hadn’t slept with Cassian) Why wouldn’t Eris stay quiet UtM or not show up to watch Lucien’s torture (which he does repeatedly)? Why, why, why, why, why would SJM not do something to show us that there might be more to Eris? Unless this was just a sloppy, last minute retcon to redeem a gross, abusive character who still to do this day petrifies his victim? 

Like, if you consider showing to be of more importance than telling in stories….You’ve picked a mighty weird hill to die on here with Eris. Because this is literally the worst example of telling not showing in this entire series. There is no basis for anything that happens with Eris’ character in ACOWAR and the only thing we have stacked against the evidence of two and a half books is what Eris says and how he personally spins the story like ????

 Idk dude, we can have a convoluted, let’s bend over backwards to redeem this guy and show he was misunderstood and has been wearing a mask so convincing it’s never ever ever cracked even once this entire time, to anyone! Even people who’ve known him for centuries….Or we go with the simpler: SJM really didn’t plan or execute this story very well at all. Which seems more reasonable?  

Young [G.D mini series]


Summary: Y/N had always had bad luck finding love, but it was wrong of her to feel things for the troubled young student she was supposed to be counseling.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: age gap, smut, angst, mentions of death/suicide, etc.

A/N: I had this idea because my mind is nasty, and I’ve been looking for something like this. No luck, so why not write it? Gray is 17 and Y/N is 27 !! So don’t shit on me pls I’m just a girl.

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

My ears perked up at the sound of my name, and I stared up from my writing to see Mr. Greeley at the doorway to my office with coffee in his hands. He was a nice man, a handsome teacher in his mid-forties that I felt was a tad bit flirty with me at times. It was pretty early, and class was about to begin, but first I was getting prepared to meet up for the first time with a student and honestly, it was always a little overwhelming.

“Yes?” I asked, pushing my black-rimmed glasses up the tip of my nose with a smile. Well, as much as I could give him on a Monday morning.

Mr. Greeley happily came in and sat down on one of the two chairs across from me, but not before leaving one of the coffee cups on top of my desk. I thanked him for it, actually glad to have some caffeine, especially after reading about who the student was.

Grayson Bailey Dolan.

“So, how is everything with counselling going?” he asked, bringing one leg up to rest on the other’s knee. Probably to make himself seem cooler. Too bad I wasn’t interested.

“Not easy,” I laughed, moving some of my papers around.

“Must be. Hell, I’d be praying before dealing with that Dolan kid.”

I raised my brows, setting my pen down to fold my hands together on top of the table. How did he know he was my next student? It must’ve been talked about, which annoyed me. This was a high school, yes, but did gossip still need to be spread around within the circle of adults?

I always liked being professional, and I didn’t want certain things - bad things - to be said about any student. Many were misunderstood, and I was so sure Grayson was one of them. I’d seen him around, and to me he looked like he mainly kept to himself. However, his grades, discipline, and detention marks said otherwise. I knew he’d be difficult to break, but I wanted to help as best as I could, and nothing was going to scare me away.

“Okay, don’t give me that look, I’m just warning you. He’s a tough little guy.”

“Then I’ll deal with him.” Really, I didn’t need him to tell me. I’d been doing this and dealing with various types of students for years now. I’d cracked the toughest ones, and it was always a challenge I was willing to do every single time.

Mr. Greeley chuckled, rubbing at his jaw. “Hope he’s nicer than he normally is. Smart-ass mouth he’s got.”

“What do you people have against a student?” I asked defensively, eyes narrowed.

He let out another little laugh that was starting to make my blood boil. I didn’t want to deal with this when Grayson would make his way in soon. I wanted to make him feel comfortable and at safe - it was completely shitty that the teachers had no remorse. Maybe he was a difficult person and all they could learn to do was dislike him, but talking behind his back instead of confronting him respectfully or trying to reach out wasn’t the way to go.

His mom was the one to come and talk to me about this, worrying about her son as a mother should - so every Monday and Wednesday, maybe Fridays if I had time, I’d speak to Grayson before classes started at 8.

“I think you should go, Mr. Greeley,” I said in a stern tone, looking back down at my paperwork with a straight face. “Thank you for the coffee, I won’t thank you for your input when I never asked. Grayson should be here any minute.”

The AP Biology teacher gave me a look in silence before standing to his feet without a word and leaving.

Taking a deep breath, I stood to my feet and made my way out of my office behind him. I walked out with my tall black heels clicking against the floors to where a few students were sitting outside in the chairs, waiting, and skimmed my eyes around to look for this specific boy.

He was sitting with his long legs outstretched and his backpack in between them on the ground. His brown hair, short at the sides and floppy at the front, was a mess - like he’d previously been running his fingers through. He wore everything black, his jacket, his shirt, his jeans, his boots - but those glowing brown-green eyes popped out more than anything to me.

“Grayson?” I called after clearing my throat, seeing him stare up at me. His bright eyes went over my legs, up to my hips tucked into a tight black skirt, and I didn’t even want to talk about his lingering gaze upon finding my exposed chest in my red blouse.

I gave him a sincere smile, heart suddenly leaping at a quick rate when he made eye contact before reaching for his backpack to stand.

Seeing him up close, only breaths away, for some reason reminded me of Mr. Greeley’s words. Little guy. Grayson certainly wasn’t little, in fact if I ever saw him in public, I’d think he was three years older than he actually was. He was tall and extremely muscular, even bigger than my tiny form. I was 27 years old and yet it seemed like I didn’t age after turning 20. I guess it was a good thing, although the way that I dressed definitely told everyone I was old enough.

“Come on in, have a seat.” I held the door open for him and he left a nice smell in his way. I gently closed the door and made my way to my own seat at my desk while he made himself as comfortable as he could. He basically sat the exact same way as he did outside, just looking a little more bored. “How are you today?”

His deep voice was a little muffled due to the fist resting on his cheek. “Tired.”

I nodded, the smile still on my face so that I could appear friendly to him instead of strict or scary. “I understand it’s early. It was the only way I could squeeze you in for the time being.” I took a pause to look over the countless amount of papers I had scattered around. For some reason, I was shaking a little, especially under his intense gaze. The sunlight coming through the windows behind me gave his beautiful eyes even more of a glow. They were greener there. “So, how’s school going?” Typical question, but I had to start with him somewhere. Baby steps. I wasn’t going to blurt out and immediately ask him what the hell was going on in his personal life.

When he didn’t answer, I looked up to see his attention elsewhere - eyes looking outside at the parking lot for the main entrance.

I swallowed a lump in my throat and ran my tongue over my inner bottom lip slightly. “Your grades are okay. However, they’re going down very quickly. Is there anything specific that you find difficult? We can start with that.”

He shrugged.

“Do you think you’d need a tutor?”


That’s when he smirked, making eye contact with me again. I don’t know what it was about it, but he made it so incredibly intense. He didn’t move his gaze away, it was like he was staring deep deep into me.

I guess this was the difficult part.

“Why, are you volunteering to help?”

The subject was about tutoring, yet the way he said it made it seem like much more. Maybe I was looking too far into it, knowing how some of these young boys acted or would often have hidden messages in their sentences when speaking to me. I wasn’t bad looking, but far younger than any of the other female workers and these boys were extremely hormonal.

“We can have a student do it. Or you can speak to your teachers–”

“They all hate me,” he cut me off, and since he had his head slightly down, his eyes were hooded and underneath it looked darker with the shadow given.

I frowned, feeling bad that he knew. Of course he had to know that the way he acted wasn’t the best way to go about things, but why did he do it? And did he ever hear these adults speak about him or was it that obvious? “I’m sure they don’t, Grayson. You’re just…” I tried to find the right word whilst also trying not to give into the gossip and terrible talk about him. No one knew anything. Grayson was the only one who knew who he was. “Different.”

It was the oldest one in the book, but it was true.

Grayson didn’t respond to that, going to lick his bottom lip before biting down on it. I tried my best to stay focused, instead noticing how his hand came down to rub at his clothed thigh before  he sank down a little to place both hands in front of him, practically cupping his crotch area. He kept his lips in a straight line, but the chiseled, straight jawline was clenching.

How was a teenage boy that attractive?

Focus. What the hell are you doing? What the hell is he doing?

“What do they call me around here, Miss…?” He trailed off, and with a sigh, I tapped my desk plate that had my name written on it. Grayson’s eyes shifted to it, and I thought he wouldn’t bother to read it. When he did say my name, it sent shivers down my spine and I nearly squirmed in my seat. Fuck.

“Troublemaker? Smartass? Fuckboy?”

Him choosing to swear didn’t affect me, I heard it on a daily basis - it was just the way that it was said yet again. It was mocking, almost.

“Grayson,” I warned him, not looking up at him and instead writing down what we needed to work with. He was getting a little angry, as well as a little red at the cheekbones and ears. I could tell that was one thing we were going to have to deal with. “I’m here with you, not them. And I believe you’re a good kid.”

“Deep down?” he asked, eyes slightly narrowing. “Deep, deep down,” he continued as he leaned forward, not hiding the fact that he was staring at my chest again when I moved my hair away. I knew my blouse tightly hugged my breasts that were in clear view for him, but I always thought it was a nice thing to wear. He was making me second guess myself, though.

I moved without a second thought to stretch my stiffening limbs, going to the front of my desk directly where he was mere inches away. “I’m here to help you, with anything and everything you need…”

“Not everything,” he mumbled, moving back to rest against the chair with his hand back on his crotch. I tried not to look directly there, knowing I had to keep it professional. Keep everything professional.

“Really, anything. Schoolwork, advice, or to talk about anything you’d like.” I nodded, resting my bottom up on my desk to sit down and cross one leg over the other to get comfortable and possibly help him stop looking so stiff as well.

“Can I talk about how fucking tight my pants are right now,” he muttered, keeping his eyes away. I frowned and stared down out of curiosity, still seeing his hands covering himself. “Can we talk about you,” he suddenly shifted around the topic before I could question him to see if I’d heard right, his eyes on a picture of me with my closest friend sat on my desk to the left of me.


“You must have something interesting to hide.”

I furrowed my brows, keeping my cool. “Grayson, this is about you.”

He looked frustrated. “I’m not talking shit.”

“You’re gonna have to, I want to help.” That perfect jaw of his clenched again. “We don’t have to get deep into anything if you don’t want it yet… I don’t think you’re ready to, we just met. I mainly want to focus on your grades right now, your career, et cetera. Do you do any sports?”

He shook his head. His large built told me otherwise, but I guess he simply worked out.

“Don’t like it?”

“Don’t like the people.”

“Understandable, not your type of scene. I’ll be honest, maybe that’ll help a bit with getting into a college if you’re not big on grades. However, I do want you to possibly see a tutor as well…” This whole time, he made no comments and I was working with nothing. It was hard getting him to speak out, so I appreciated even the tiniest remarks.

We sat in that familiar silence once again when the first bell of the day rang. This wasn’t meant to drag on, merely ten to fifteen minutes for a start and as the days went on, we’d get more time together.

“Okay, looks like our time is up. It’s short for today, but I’ll always try to give us more time if you’re okay with that,” I commented, turning to go back to my chair.

“Thanks, this helped.” Shocked, I looked at him to see no sign of humor on his face. We barely spoke and I helped? Wow.

“Really, Grayson?”

“Yeah,” he said, standing and placing his backpack on. “Because of that, I’m going home.”


“Wha–? Grayson–” I didn’t get to finish as he walked out. I couldn’t find the will to go after him and drag him to class where he needed to be.

Only one thing hit me when the door clicked shut: this was going to be far more difficult than I thought.

So I saw this amazing post by @viktuuri-pork and I literally just stole her tags and made them into a 1300 word drabble like I have no shame and no imagination whatsoever. I hope she does not get mad.

read on AO3

“Victor have you seen the car keys ?” Yuuri asked as he buttoned his coat. “I left them on the counter…”

“I have them,” Victor said, waving the key ring on his finger, “I’m driving.”

Yuuri froze, hesitated for a second and straightened up.

“No, you’re not.”

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I’ll Be Good - Part 16

Masterlist -  Series Masterlist  -  Part 15  -  Part 17

Summary: Series - You’re an old colleague of Natasha’s who finds herself face to face with the Winter Soldier on the wrong end of an Avengers’ op. Chapter – You return to the Compound with the team. You and Bucky begin to recover.

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 2279 - ugh another long one, sorry. I’m a runaway train.

Author’s Note: Here is some floof for you, because I made you suffer so much in the last couple. Don’t get too comfortable though… :)

Originally posted by deniz-is-a-witch

“Barton, just land this thing. Please! She needs to get to a hospital!” Bucky was practically begging, standing behind the pilot’s seat, hands digging into the fabric of the chair in desperation.

Clint opened his mouth to answer, but Tony beat him to it. “You know we can’t do that. She’ll wind up behind bars so fast I won’t even have time to tell you ‘I told you so’ because we’ll all go down with her for aiding and abetting whoever the hell she is.”

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The  Winter Soldiers - Part Eleven

Summary: In 1993 Hydra put you under Cyro freeze and after twenty four years sleeping, your past companion Bucky Barnes aka the Winter Soldier finds you and brings you out into the real world but the both of you struggle with your past as Hydra’s Winter Soldiers.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1,248

Warnings: mention of violence and what not I believe.

A/N: So I haven’t posted in almost a week but I somehow managed to hit 600 followers so thank so much!! Also this is the second last part of this series, I’m debating whether or not a) it should finished next part or b) if I should leave the story open for possibly a spin off series.


Anyways hope you enjoy the part!

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten

Originally posted by little--batman

*gif creds to owner*

Voices greeted your pounding head. They were familiar and it took you a minute to distinguish who it was.

“How’d she do that?” Steve asked slowly.

“I don’t know it’s almost like she passed out on purpose,” Tony answered back.

“I heard Russian words in a crowd but I couldn’t understand them, then she passed out,” Bucky replied joining the conversation.

“And she didn’t go all Winter Soldier?” Tony asked.

“Nope just passed out, but I don’t know why or how.”

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Meldanya Annotated

When @olderbynow first assigned me @meldanya44 for my Secret Santa recipient I was a little bit nervous. I’ve spoken with her a few times and I really like her, so I didn’t want to let her down, but I don’t really feel like I know her that well. I’m relatively new to the fandom and didn’t start writing until about six months ago, and she stopped publishing new stuff before I really got into fanfiction. I thought about writing her something, but as I said, I’m a new writer… there’s still that feeling that it might not be much of a ‘gift’.  I didn’t even know what she’d like. So, I thought I’d get to know her… through her own words. This is my gift to you Meldanya. Feedback. What resonates most profoundly with all of your work is the pulse of life between your work and other writers. The give and take of thought and spirit.

Completed Works

So Carefree Together –  A smiling and laughing Jack Robinson. Phryne can’t get that picture of Jack and Rosie out of her mind (from 2x01). A brief ficlet from Phryne’s perspective of early Season 2.

Meldanya’s first fic in the fandom is a beautiful introspective piece from Phryne’s point of view taking us from the moment she sees the happy and carefree Jack to the moment Jack is laughing with her on the tennis court. What is really lovely as well, in the notes she talks about her inspiration, Fire_Sign’s 500 Words You Should Know: Alacrity Which really bookends the entire piece bringing Jack from carefree and laughing with one love to carefree and laughing with another. The moments Meldanya choses are perfectly paced to build up the relationship between the two detectives in a short space. It’s a very impressive first fic and promises wonderful things to come.

When the Clouds Roll By 1942. Occupied France. Phryne Fisher is working as a British intelligence officer, focused on surviving. Her heart stops when she meets another agent: she would give anything to keep him out of danger.

Once again, in so very few words, Meldanya manages to weave a very rich and beautiful story of love and longing, sadness and sacrifice. The only real-time conversation is in German, but by flashing back to meaningful moments, we’re given a beautiful and heartbreaking love story. There is a edge of hope, a hint of future, but it’s still a painful reality not wrapped up in a bow. Very powerful storytelling that is masterfully done.

Smile the While– 1919. Rosie Robinson is preparing their home for her husband’s return Part 1 of So Wait and Pray

Meldanya is absolutely masterful at packing devastating emotional punches in tiny little spaces. I know what’s coming. I know because I’ve seen the show, but Rosie is so completely innocent and hopeful and in love and it’s BREAKING MY HEART!  I’ve always liked Rosie. I think she got the short end of the stick in so many ways. But Meldanya has, in less than 700 words, made me fall in love.

Kiss Me Sad Adieu – 1926. Rosie Robinson is packing up her parlour. Part 2 of So Wait and Pray

And unsurprisingly, in part two of “So Wait and Pray” the heart breaks for real. Rosie packs up their “old friends” (not in the same vein as Phryne’s “old friends”, mind, but probably more intimate) and moves on. I think this piece really reveals where Meldanya’s strength of the small moment lies. She’s exceedingly good at capturing the small pieces of humanity that seem insignificant on the surface, but are actually crucial nerve endings. A look, a touch, a book, a song. They seem like nothing in passing, but in the right focus, they’re everything. Gorgeous.

Humming a Different Tune– Jack wonders: why does Miss Fisher have a piano if she doesn’t play? Jack’s musings on pianos & Phryne.

Delightful little ditty from Jack’s perspective about the magic of music. This is again a strong story built out of a rich understanding of the important moments of the source material. She chooses key points in the series to exploit to have a bigger emotional impact to Jack’s relearning of the piano in canon.

500 Words #410: Reductionist – A very brief drabble involving drinks and a debate on criminal psychology.

I expect this review will be longer than the fic. I tend to be a little wordy. This is phenomenal. I had to go back and check, not once, but twice that none of the characters is actually named in this piece. I had to check because Phryne, especially, is so clearly present in this very small space even without her name or title. I hadn’t ever really considered it before, but it makes perfect sense that Phryne wouldn’t be particularly well formally educated. She’d never, ever let on that she wasn’t keeping up either, of course.

The Melody Lingers On
Part 1 of The Way You Changed My Life – 
Jack Robinson sat in his office, contemplating his failed marriage. His second failed marriage. The glass on his door still read “Detective Inspector Fisher Robinson” which Jack hadn’t bothered to replace.

Meldanya weaves a beautiful tale of love ruined and redeemed in The Melody Lingers On. Through a wonderfully crafted flashback in the first chapter, we’re treated to a completely plausible story of love, laughter, and finally loss. Through the course of the story, the two learn to work together again and finally make their way back together. In addition, we get to see a fabulous love story between Mac and Rosie. In reading through Meldanya’s oeuvre, I’m really convinced that no one writes Rosie with more depth and care.

So far in my reading, this is her longest work. But it still has the same lovely attention to small moments that make her very short works so impactful. It doesn’t make it drag. It still has excellent pacing, but there is a huge emotional journey that takes place over six chapters. To be honest, as a Phrack shipper at heart, I was a little nervous when I read the first sentence, but I was very happy when I read the last.

500 Words #308: Nebulous – 1937. After the events of The Melody Lingers On. Prudence is throwing a party for the recently-reconciled Jack and Phryne, but she notices that something’s a little off with some of her guests

Part 2 of The Way You Changed My Life

After the emotional roller-coaster of The Melody Lingers On The Fisher Robinsons and Mack and Rosie have a rather delightful encounter… or rather series of encounters. It all seems to work wonderfully well for Rosie and Phryne. Jack and Mac will catch up eventually. Meldanya tells a sweet and sexy tale of love, lust, and friendship.

Wild Child – Flying is the only active profession I would ever continue with enthusiasm after the War. - Wilfred Owen

“Remember Madagascar?”

“How could I forget? It’s a miracle we survived that landing … and then the cyclone around us raged for days.”

A crucial moment between two aviators in 1919.

Meldanya brings us the backstory of Captain Courageous and Mata Hari (Jack’s words, not hers) in a tale that will having all you Compton haters (I know you’re out there) rethinking your stance. Compton in Wild Child is, if not completely loveable, at least completely plausible and sympathetic. His history and loss are palatable in the short tale. Phryne’s wounds from Rene are fresh and painful even though there is only one mention of his name. It’s a beautiful story, expertly done.

Whims and Inconsistencies – The (nice and very naughty) follow-up to Follies and Nonsense, for Sarahtoo’s (@omgimsarahtoo) birthday!

Jane Ross’ 18th birthday is being celebrated by a lavish Regency-style Ball. Follow our couples as they find love and lust (and more lust).

This is a fun and hot romp through the fanon. It’s a little hard to pin down exactly which chapters were Meldanya’s (though I definitely recognize the Maggie and Bart). Of course, every writer has their voice. It’s just all the voices are so beautiful. I’ll just say it’s all awesome and you should read it.
It also has wonderful stories from @jeneenp (Collingwoodgirl), @firesign23, @gaslightgallows, @heavyheadedgal, @mercurialbianca, PlayfulMay, and @jasbeaux

Eternally Phryne and Jack –  Happy birthday @aljwritesphryne aljohnson! As you are so well known for your Miss Fisher modern AU, we thought we’d do our own takes on Jack and Phryne through the ages.

Hope it’s a great birthday, lady!

There are many great stories in this anthology from many of the best writers in this fandom, but since this is a gift for Meldanya, I’m going to to focus on Chapter 3: The Azure Kingfisher. This is an AU piece set in Revolutionary France. Jack is trying doing his best to save people diplomatically, but there is a hero smuggling people to England away from the clutches of the villainous Rene DuBois. Phryne is apparently a vapid debutant, but I think it’s no big spoiler to tell you she isn’t really that. Rosie, makes a delightful appearance as well. I must admit that out-of-time AUs aren’t usually my cup of tea, but Meldanya manages to do the thing that makes it work for me. She keeps the characters true to character.

Revolutionary Tendencies and Suspect Associates – It’s PlayfulMay’s birthday! We know how much you love our Mac, lady, so we all took a stab at Mac fics!

Some are smutty, some are not - we hope you love them!

Once again a collaborative effort of some of the finest writers in the fandom. Chapter 9, though, is clearly Meldanya’s as it’s the hot and steamy missing scene from “Nebulous”. It’s a great chapter and immensely… satisfying.

Then the Sky Will Seem More Blue – During World War II, Dot and her family start a new project.

This story is heartbreakingly beautiful and should probably come with a warning label and/or a box of tissues. The action all follows Dot and her children knitting. Knitting has never brought me to tears quite so quickly before, and that includes the time I accidentally stabbed myself with a knitting needle (I’m not graceful).  It took me a minute. I had to read the reveal twice. I won’t spoil it, but… it’s really, really powerfully done. Gorgeous story

For Loudly She Bays– A series of puppy drabbles inspired by Fire_Sign’s Squirrel Universe. Ant’s on holiday, Mr B’s off, it’s just Phryne, Jack and Chipmunk the Beagle.

This is a lovely series of drabbles based on the wonderful characters from the @firesign23 Squirrel Universe.  Chipmunk is a sweet beagle who has Jack completely wrapped around her paw. The stories are lovely and darling, and clearly written by a someone who both has lived with and loves dogs. They are fun and delightful little tails tales.

Works in Progress

Meldanya took a hiatus from writing for business reasons (nunmah and nunya) so the following works are in progress. Not sure if she’ll get back to them. It would be a pity if she didn’t, but that’s between her and her muses. I have a few thoughts on what she has below.

Reminiscent, or Just a Song at Twilight 1892. The Twilight Waltz is in full swing at the Grand Hotel. A story about young Aunt Prudence and young Margaret Fisher and the choices that they made.  

Jack: “I wonder if the Twilight Waltz was ever a respectable proposition.”

Phryne: “It was the height of fashion before the war, completely above board, despite my father’s patronage […] Mother blamed it all on his dancing, that one whirl in his arms forced all reason from her head.”

I’m including this story in the “works in progress” because it’s listed as chapters 8/10. I can absolutely see that there could be another couple of chapters for this story and it would be delightful, but do not let the incompleteness of it stop you. It’s one of those incredibly rare stories that still feels like it has a very satisfying resolve at the end of chapter 8. I’m often guilty of either skipping stories that aren’t Phrack centric, or going back to them later. I love the other characters, I just tend to love Phrack more. I’m so happy I read this. It’s just phenomenal. The relationships between the sisters. Ned pining for Maggie and then shifting to Prudie… it felt so, perfect. It was really, really wonderful. (It’s almost made me regret going with my initial plan for Secret Santa which was Prudence and Hilly McNaster fall in love at Warleigh Grammar as teenagers… I may have to use this as source material and revisit that idea… or better yet, feed you my premise and beg you to write it, because you’d do it better than me.)

In any case, it is absolutely a fabulous piece and I now consider it canon.

In a Secondhand Store 1915. Jack’s off at war. Rosie makes a new friend back at home.

I seriously love where this is heading. I’ve already decided after reading the rest of Meldanya’s body of work that she is the best Rosie writer there is. A wartime romance like this could be a very beautiful tale.

Oh Hush Thee My Baby – All Jack wants is a quiet evening. Chipmunk has other plans.

Beautifully written, but unless you want to be sobbing into your keyboard… you might want to give this one a miss. It’s incomplete, and there might have been plans for things to not be so tragic… but things are bleak. If you want a good cry, though, this is a wonderfully written way to get there quick.

Happy Holidays, Meldanya. Thank you for the gift of your writing! I’ve truly enjoyed getting to know you.

Originally posted by morewhovianthanhuman

Every story starts with an unbelievable occurrence.

In this case, it was a man falling from the sky and landing straight on you one summer morning. He nearly broke your leg, and apologized with no end about it.

You thought he was a complete lunatic, but…You were curious. Where did he come from?

He introduced himself as The Doctor, and you wished you didn’t ask – he really was a lunatic.

A series of strange events seemed to follow you after that fateful encounter, it all leading up to you stumbling into a blue box that was bigger on the inside.

You clasped his hands tightly, your reddened (colour) eyes staring up into his in a pleading manner.

“Doctor.” You told sternly “Doctor promise me.” He wanted to pull away, but you kept him in place “In a couple of minutes a (colour) haired girl will go on her morning jog” You surpassed a sob “Doctor, promise me you won’t fall from the sky. Promise me you won’t save her from the Weeping Angels. Promise me you won’t show her the universe. Promise me you won’t…You won’t make her fall in love with you.”  

And he showed you the whole universe and what it had to offer – from the biggest and smallest planets, to running from aliens or drinking tea with Marie Antoinette.

You absolutely loved it all, your mind soaking up everything he had showed you like a sponge and making your head spin.

“Doctor.” You begged “Look at me. Please.”

He was unable to do such a simple request, his whole form trying to pry away and get into the TARDIS as fast as he could – if he jumped in the Time Machine he could still save you. He could save your past.

But his heart didn’t let him leave you here, alone, in the dark and at the end of time.

Finally, he lifted his eyes up and he wished he hadn’t – you were crying. Something he always hated, something he couldn’t stand seeing you doing.

It broke his heart.

But sometimes, The Doctor would get lonely and unbelievably scared. He thought, that in due time, you’d leave him, just like everyone does in the end. And at times like those you were by his side with your home made hot cocoa, reassuring him that he couldn’t get rid of you even if he tried.

“Space is our track field” You used to say, brushing a couple of loose strands of his hair from his face “Time is, well,” You’d shrug “-time.” You’d smiled “And as long as you keep running, I’ll keep following suit, Doctor, that’s a promise.” You’d tilt your head to the side “Until the end of it.  Until the end of time. ”

‘Until the end of time’ was your catchphrase, one that always managed to calm him down because he simply knew that time would never run out. Not for him, and he would make sure that never for you.

“I love you, Doctor” You cried “I love you and I will never leave you.” You pulled him closer, embracing his shivering form. His strong arms wrapped around you, pushing you deep into his chest “I love you. Until the end, Doctor, until the end.”

But the end was now.

He shut his eyes, his hold on you tightening.

You had promised him you’d run with him forever. And you always kept your promises, in a way he never feared loosing you to time since   he knew you would stay. You were the one.

The one who would run with him forever.

The one who would always be by his side.

The one he would fall head over heels for.

“Doctor” You mumbled once, lying in bed next to him.

He was reading some book, something in French, his round reading glasses on with a tranquil expression on his face. Your head rested on his shoulder, your eyes skimming down the foreign words.

“Hmm?” He hummed.

“Do you love me?” You asked. He looked at you.

“Is that even a question?” He cracked a smile. You nodded, a small smile stretching on your lips.

“Well” You waited “Do you?”

He frowned. Something was wrong.

“Yes,” He said firmly “I do.”

“I love you too.” You murmured, looking away from him.

The bedroom fell quiet.

“Doctor” You spoke again, gaining his attention “Do you think I’m pretty?” He stared at you.

“You’re not pretty, love.” He kissed the side of your head “-you’re gorgeous.” You smiled at that, faintly.

“Doctor” You licked your lips “Can you read to me?”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” You murmured, staring into space “Can you read for me?”

And so he did, a soft sound of his voice caressing your ears and making you sleepy. You hugged his arm, snuggling into his side. Closing your eyes, you tried not to think about it.

About the end of time.

“I’ll always be with you.” You croaked “Until the end.”

“This is the end.” He said through gritted teeth.

“There’s never an end, Doctor.” He felt you smile “There’s just a new beginning.”

Your love was never supposed to happen.

The two of you were never meant to say ‘hello’…

..And never meant to say ‘goodbye’.

“Promise me, Doctor.” You stuck your hand out to wipe the tear that rolled down his cheek “Promise me you’ll let me go.”

The last thing he saw was you smiling face and loving eyes, before everything went dark.

Requests are opened!

Love or Hate (Part 9 of 13)

Summary: AU. When the reader’s shot at a better life is stolen from her, she continues to see the person responsible all over town. After a series of unfortunate events, will she learn that there’s a fine line between love and hate?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,694

Warnings: language, drinking, excessive WTF’ing

A/N:  Ya just can’t keep a good Bucky down.

Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13

Originally posted by yellowsubmarine-pepperland

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Southside Girl -Part 4 - FP Jones x Andrews!Reader

SO. Here it is guys, I really hope you enjoy it as this is the finale! I really want to know what you guys think because I really wanted to focus on the father daughter relationship as i have been doing that with my dad recently too! let me know guys! 

Wanna be tagged in anything or everything? Message me and let me know!

Originally posted by mona-stay

The bar door slammed open, the sound resounded throughout the empty space. A harsh voice called out, “we’re closed, piss off!”
“I think you might want to hear this out.” Fred Andrews had not been to this side of town in a long, long time let alone to this bar.
“What could you possibly want now?” FP almost threw his glass down onto the bar again, “come to rub it in that you have everything again? That you triumphed again?” FP remained sitting staring at the bar top, your jacket slung over the barstool beside him and a line of shot glasses were in a mess before him. Fred had not seen him this bad since his wife left, but that reminded him why he was there.
“Not this time,” Fred wandered further into the bar in a much more calm way than before, “if left to you, you will destroy yourself all over again and (y/n) wouldn’t want that.”
“Like she would want to care about me now.” He scoffed,
“Yeah and who’s fault is that?” FP remained silent. “Look, I am not happy that my daughter, who is so intelligent and who I believed was the responsible one out of her and Archie, is seeing the man that I went to school with but maybe they’re both just as foolish as we all were at their age.”
“We are all still foolish.” FP looked to his side to look at him and finally leaned back to look at your dad. “At least you know what the hell you’re doing.”
“Know what I’m doing? Forsythe, my wife left too, I am nearly bankrupt, my youngest seems to be going around every girl in town and my eldest is sleeping with my best friend. I really do not know what the hell I am doing. And you are a fool to think I do.” Fred threw his keys onto the bar beside the mess of glasses but FP didn’t even flinch. “And now, I have a girl on my couch trying to be who she used to be but failing miserably because lets face it, she isn’t that girl anymore but I can deal with that as long as she is happy and she is not happy like this at all. I only had to see her, hear what she had to say for a few minutes when I knew that she can’t go back to being how she was because she can’t. I don’t like to admit it but you changed her.” FP glanced him up and down briefly,
“Who are you and what the hell have you done to Fred Andrews?” he sniggered but when Fred’s stoic look didn’t change, his face dropped, “you’re being serious aren’t you?” Fred’s silence was enough. “How bad is she?”
“She’s pretending.”
“I know how she can be.” Fred looked a little uneasy about the way this man knew you so well, “She’s doing that little fake smile thing that looks way too uneasy to be true, and she wont stop fiddling even when she doesn’t realise it, right?” Fred nodded and FP bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t like this any more than you did, “Why are you actually here, Fred?”
“Because, (y/n) can’t keep on like this and neither can you. She is an adult and although you don’t act like one you are too. So sober the hell up and sort this damn mess out. I am a little sick of you messing things up and this, whatever the hell this is, you need to stop.” Fred picked up his keys and grabbed your jacket from the chair,
“What do you think you are doing with that?” FP tried to take it back,
“It doesn’t belong to you.” And with that he left, getting back in his truck as FP heard it rumble away. Shit. There was nothing that could have prepared you for what you were seeing now. Your dad stood at your door with your serpents jacket in his hand,
“I do believe that this belongs to you.” You stood there dumbfounded, you mouth open a little as you stared at him. This couldn’t be happening,
“Dad, what is going on?” you asked as slowly he lead you to sit down in the kitchen and handed you your jacket, leaning against the counter as he chose his words carefully,
“(y/n), I didn’t treat you like the adult you were when all of this went down. I shouldn’t have kicked you out, I shouldn’t have shunned the idea so much despite how much it makes me uneasy and I certainly shouldn’t have ignored you like I did. You are my daughter, my only daughter and I can’t lose you not like I did your mother. In a way, you with FP and me ignoring you is the same as you being without him and being here because you aren’t happy anymore and it was me and your friends that drove you two apart and it shouldn’t be like that.” You were almost crying at your fathers words, “I spent your whole life telling you to sick with what your heart was telling you and ignore other people that tried to change your mind and then I went back on everything I taught you. What I am trying to say is, do what you wish - what makes you happy… just leave me out of the relationship side of things.”
You didn’t know you could smile that wide as you enveloped your father in your arms as the doorbell rang. You ignored it for a moment before your father pushed you away gently,
“You will want to see who it is.” You jumped up immediately and grabbed your jacket slinging it over your shoulders, you knew who it was. You could sense it and you proved yourself wrong, your smile could get bigger because there he stood. His jacket loose on his shoulders, slightly stooped, that signature smirk and his hands shoved in his pockets, his motorbike parked out on the drive,
“So, wheres my southside girl wanna go now?”


@62jean   @tiffany321 @zook7430  @writings-of-a-girl1 @fuckkoffcourtney   @digitalshibe  @forthefandomss  @mysanityisgone27  @itsall-inmy-head   @orlamay @ashley2060 

Repetitiveness: Clare VS Sanderson

Spoilers for:

  • [Major] All of Brandon Sanderson’s work (including his non-cosmere stuff)
  • [Major] Cassandra Clare’s work up to Lady Midnight
  • [Very Minor] PJO on world building
  • [Very Minor] Harry Potter on world building

Now if you’ve been looking at my blog recently, you’ll know that I have fallen in an absolute love with Brandon Sanderson. But I subscribe to the philosophy that if you love something then you should mercilessly make fun of all its faults. One of the faults being: Sanderson’s writing is unbelievably repetitive. And no the excuse “well it’s all in the same universe” doesn’t work. Reckoners is not in the Cosmere but it’s a pretty shameless (yet hilarious) rip-off of Mistborn. The only difference being is that Mistborn is adult and Reckoners is YA. Which, apparently, means that everything is exactly the same but main characters don’t die. Also, to a much lesser degree Rithmatist rips off elements of Stormlight Archive but it’s nowhere near as bad as Reckoners. I’m pretty sure they’re going to outlaw drinking games made out of the Cosmere because of dangerous they would be.

I also use to read Cassandra Clare’s Shadowhunter series but decided to stop because it was too repetitive. Now that sounds incredibly hypocritical and at first I didn’t understand why the repetitiveness didn’t bother me in Sanderson’s work. And the repetitiveness was the reason I found myself not wanting to continue after Lady Midnight. I know that Clare is going to pull some reason Jules and Emma can bonk out of her ass, Emma is going to suffer little to no consequences for her actions and they day will saved by bunch of stupid teenagers. At first these franchises seem completely different and pointless to compare but I’d argue they’re more similar than you think. Both authors were started off riding the coattails of other authors (Clare with the Twilight hype and Sanderson finishing up Wheel of Time), there’s a lot of talk of religion and there’s generally a neon sign pointing to which characters are going to die. Ironically, they both have a country called “Idris” that we barely care about unless it’s being under attack (Fun Fact: City of Glass was published in March of 2009 and Warbreaker was published June of 2009, go figure). They obviously have the same flaw. They tend to tell the same story with the same characters over and over again. However I figured out two reasons why I still enjoy Sanderson’s work and have given up on Clare’s.

1. Character Arcs and Group Dynamics:

Let’s take Raoden from Elantris and Elend from Mistborn. They’re essentially the same character. They’re young royals who take a position of authority even though they’re a bit naïve. They have badass girlfriends. Their girlfriends also have something to do with their clearly evil fathers’ deaths. Raoden even had a crazy brother in a draft of Elantris and Elend actually had a crazy brother. It sounds annoying that Brandon has characters with such similar backgrounds but there are some key differences.

One interesting way Brandon avoids the reader immediately realizing how similar these characters are is when their stories begin. Raoden’s story is basically Elend’s story but only through Well of Ascension and maybe a bit of time gap between Well of Ascension and Hero of Ages. In Well of Ascension you have the former ruling god dead, Elend is trying to deal with the authority that he’s accepted in the last book, dies and then comes back with awesome powers. Ditto for Raoden. But we get to see Elend grow from this naïve bookworm just trying to piss off his father into the badass emperor. Raoden’s already got some leadership skills from growing up with the assumption that he’s going take the thrown before he got zombie-afied and develops much faster than Elend in Elantris. It’s not immediately recognizable that this is the same arc. While in Shadowhunters Clary and Tessa basically go through the same story arc. Girl who thought she was average discovers Shadowhunters and that she’s magical, but even more super special than all the other magical people. She meets jerky guy and obviously better nice guy but chooses the jerky guy because he’s tortured. She discovers stuff about the Shadowhunter world and Clave continues to be useless dicks. She’s the only one who can save the day despite having very little to no training because she was born the right way. Bangs her boyfriend right before the climax because…I have no idea what Clare loves that trope to be honest. Anyone who was even remotely rude to her dies, even if they get quickly redeemed before the end and there are a few good guys who die, but honestly their deaths don’t really matter to the MC or the audience. End of trilogy! It’s boring. I will give Clare this, she did realize that the audience didn’t need this world explained for the third fucking time in TDA which a good step forward. I’m sure that every asshole is going to die by the end of the trilogy and right before the climax Jules and Emma will equip those stupid birth control runes and have a climax of their own. However there’s still the problem that they’re still fucking Shadowhunters.

Another difference is the different power sets that the characters. I know Tessa doesn’t have the exact same power set as Clary or Emma. Tessa is a Warlock-Shadowhunter, Clary has a bigger amount of angel blood than your average Shadowhunter and Emma is banging her Parabati which gives you magic powers apparently. Clare couldn’t have these take place on different planets with completely different magic systems like Sanderson can. But Tessa, Clary and Emma hang out with people and it wouldn’t be a problem if they weren’t all Shadowhunters who come from the same culture with the same values and same personalities. Even the same family lines, which I guess means that family members have exact same personalities. At least when Sanderson families are from the same bloodlines he makes an effort to change up the personalities. Breeze is fancy asshole with a heart a gold, Wax is a social inept cowboy with a heart of gold. Tessa barely explores her Warlock side in TID, she talks to Magnus and maybe exchanges a couple of words with Ragnor. All three MCs hang out with Shadowhunters. It’s especially obvious when you look at Tessa and Clary’s groups. Tessa hangs out with Jace-Clone-With-Half-Decent-Reason-To-Be-An-Asshole, Simon-Done-Better, Crazy-Izzy (Jessamine) and Characters-That-Would-Make-Much-More-Interesting-Protagonists (Henry, Charlotte). TDA isn’t that much better. Emma and Jules are basically the genderbent versions of Jace and Clary with minor differences and being more pissy. They hang out with Less-Insufferable-Izzy, Evil-Crazy-Magnus, Expendable-Siblings, Siblings-I-Don’t-Care-About, Siblings-Waiting-For-Their-Own-Spinoff and Love-Geometry-Fodder. It would be better if they weren’t all Shadowhunters. Clare created a bunch of really interesting cultures and species that we never really get to see in full. We don’t know what it’s like to be a normal Vampire because Simon was a Daywalker (or whatever) and he wasn’t even a vampire for long, we had Maya the werewolf but she barely got any screen time. The non-Shadowhunter character we get the most of is Magnus because he’s a fan favorite but we still don’t really know much about Warlocks. I know this series is called Shadowhunters but why did it have to be? It would have been a better series if Tessa was a full on Warlock and she was exploring that aspect of Clare’s world and she could still interact with the Shadowhunters. Hell it might even be interesting to see how other species see the Shadowhunters. We know Downworlders hate Shadowhunters but they probably have different histories with them. Maybe Werewolves were used as manual slave labor while Warlocks were used as prostitutes for people who wanted to fuck demons but didn’t want demon STDs. I don’t know! Make Emma a werewolf, she’s aggressive. Culture does a lot, Clare already has the intriguing cultures that I want to learn about. She just has to DO something with them. Brandon loves having crews and it helps that they all come from different planets with different cultures. Even if he’s reusing a character they’re also either just different enough to not be a complete clone (unlike Jace and Will) or they’re surrounded by completely different characters. Raoden’s old crew has two old cranky farts with a rivalry that ends with my heart broken, a soldier, the hot guy, the big strong man with a family and the badass girlfriend. Elend’s crew he inherited from the Kell has the badass girlfriend, the fancy asshole with the heart of gold, soldier who’s a philosopher, Average Joe accountant, religious dude, cranky old fart and love-triangle-fodder. There’s some overlap between all the series’ crews but they’re just enough that you accept it. In Shadowhunters, especially with Tessa and Clary their friend groups are basically the same.

2. World Building:

The thing that keeps Sanderson’s work from becoming dull is that he is a master world builder. So good in fact that while you’re trying to figure out how the hell each world works and exactly how amazing it is that you completely miss all the repetitiveness along with the foreshadowing and references to the Cosmere. It’s only after you give yourself to think about the overall picture that you realize how similar they are. It’s essential a parent sneakily feeding their child vegetables by hiding them in cheese. Clare doesn’t have that. Seeing how Shadowhunters is the same exact world in every series, you never feel the confusion in any of the spinoff series. Once you’ve read a couple of the books you have a feel for the bland world.

Besides pop culture references, I don’t see much of a point in this being an urban fantasy. If the TV Show did one thing right, it’s that it mixed the Shadowhunter tech with modern tech. Why? Because it’s cool and gives it a little bit more of a reason to be set in modern times with modern pop culture references. If you took out all references to modern society it wouldn’t matter what time period any of these series took place because Shadowhunters seem to rarely let their society be affected by Mundane society. Shadowshunters have a very stagnant culture and it’s taken 10 books for them to start to realize that the Internet is awesome. This is an urban fantasy series but it doesn’t seem to have any effect other than pop culture references. You don’t need to completely blend Normal and Magical worlds; JK Rowling did a pretty good job of making a world where the wizard world very rarely interacts with the real world. This was successful because Harry Potter was a world with wizards who can do basically anything and had no real need to interact with Muggles. Shadowhunters for one don’t have any magical powers so they either have to do it themselves, get Warlocks to do it or get some Mundanes. They also have to protect Mundanes, you’d think they’d be interacting more and since there’s no Mist like Percy Jackson you wonder how Mundanes don’t figure it out by now. Speaking of PJO, on the flip side Percy Jackson works mixing the two elements because it’s fun to see Greek Gods and Monsters updated. Riordan took his concept and ran with it. He uses the modern setting to get out pop culture references but there’s still mortal interaction with characters like the demigods’ mortal parents and Rachel. The only other thing Clare uses the modern setting for is to introduce the Shadowhunter series to noobs. Which is fine for a series but after three, it gets tiresome. Also she picked the most stagnant and boring species out of the bunch.

Then there’s Sanderson, which I won’t compare Shadowhunters to the entire Cosmere because that’s unfair but I will compare it to Mistborn. In less than 200 years Henry Branwell made a few inventions like the portal and sensor; Clary made some new runes. So only Branwells can advance this society for some reason. In 300 years, Scadrial got cars, electricity, image projectors and fucking airships. I get that Shadowhunters really don’t like change but seriously all of humanity rests in their hands. I would want someone to create better ways of killing demons. Apparently witchlight can double as a power source so you can use it for computers and WiFi. Use that shit to make a car that works in Idris or some better tech. Find some better way to communicate to each other! That way the next genocidal maniac that Clary creates goes around to Institutes creating the next protagonists for another spin off series, you can warn people! Instead of relying on references to TID. This is why you’re always dying off, because you refuse to advance! This’ll be a never ending cycle of Shadowhunters using glow-y swords and arrows to kill all hell’s got to offer! Maybe this is all just a conspiracy and Clave has been stopping advancement in Shadowhunter society because once they defeat all the demons they’ll lose all their purpose in life.

One of the problems with Clare’s writing is that she often gives her main leads this amazing magical power that no else uses or can ever use. In 200 years or in the entire history of the world we never hear of another Warlock-Shadowhunter other than Tessa. And there will probably never be one because that’s what makes Tessa special. In Mistborn, the magic system is organically evolving. Throughout the first trilogy you always get new metals and new information about how the magic works is revealed. By Alloy of Law yes we have all 16 metals but we now discover that Mistborns don’t exist (which is a great way to keep any character from being too OP) but now there’s Twinborns. It’s a completely different type of magic user much like Tessa but Brandon expanded on that. Imagine the different types of Warlocks and Shadowhunter combos you could get and how that would manifest. Or how this would affect Shadowhunter society as a whole. Instead of Luke just becoming full on werewolf what if there was some sort of hybrid Werewolf-Shadowhunter. It’s the same with Twinborns. There’s so many combinations and possibilities for different powers. Then in Bands of Mourning there’s people being able to artificially give people powers. It’s so organic and just makes the world feel so much bigger because of how much you have to explore. The Shadowhunter magic never really evolves. It’s the same and once the main character uses their super-mega-ultra forms they got from the Angel to defeat the current bad guy threatening all of humanity, the power up just goes away. Like, you never want to see if other people can do that mega-awesome-thing? Why? Maybe they could use it to get rid of demons!

Then here’s my biggest grip with the Shadowhunters’ world: we’re never given an explanation on exactly the world works. I’m less invested in this world because I don’t feel like I can live there and then immediately die because I would not survive in any fantasy world. First is Idris: how does Idris get it’s food or clothing? Shadowhunter culture makes a big deal on how it’s shameful to not be anything but a demon hunter. But…y’gotta eat and someone has to make the sexy black leather you wear. Looking at the map there’s the lake, forest, plains and that’s all there is. Where are the farms? Are there Shadowhunter farmers? How are they treated? Or do they just rely on Warlocks to conjure it all up? Which Warlocks? Before the Accords did they just have Downworlder slaves do all this? If so then what happened after the Accords? And don’t give me that “well maybe it’ll be answered in a future book” or “it was answered in Lord of Shadows and/or Shadowhunter Academy” because it’s been 10 fucking books and a collection of short stories and Clare hasn’t given me the answers on how this society functions. I tried looking at Wiki but it was either such a throw away line that no one decided to put it or Clare hasn’t addressed it. Sanderson shows that worlds can distract from very glaring problems. I don’t expect to know exactly how the Cosmere functions because its not important at the moment, just like you don’t expect to know how Idris works in City of Bones. But after 11 books and still don’t know how anything works, I get frustrated and then I start getting annoyed at the other glaring problems. I know how the Camp Half-Blood functions. Mr. D grows strawberries, they harvest them, sell to them to the mortal world and get mortal money to pay for shit. Then golden drachmas are circulating around to buy magic stuff. Which also brings me to questions about the Institutes like: How do the Institutes have Mundane money? Is it the Clave that gets the money and then distributes it to the Institutes? How do they get the money? Do Shadowhunters really go out grocery shopping or does Idris just ship each institute supplies from wherever the fuck they get it? If so then how did they do that without the portal? How did they pay their Mundane servants back in the day? I go could go on the questions, Clare’s world just feel so small. Like nothing else is happening unless it’s relevant to the plot, while everything Sanderson creates such amazing worlds that you write…well a stupid post like this. It’s just there are so many unanswered questions that it becomes annoying.

Which is not to say that Sanderson never had this problem of not answering questions that probably should have been answered about the world. I can see myself beginning to lose my patience with getting answers to questions about the Cosmere, only to have new ones pop up. He has to walk that very fine line between leaving his audience wanting more without making them give up from frustration. While I didn’t hate it, Calamity left me with a lot more questions than answers. Yes, I know there are questions that are going to be answered later, especially around Calamity (the character) and I’m sure it’ll all make sense in about 10 years when we get Reckoners: Secret History or whatever. But there are questions that I feel should have been answered in this book and normally Brandon would but for some reason he didn’t. Like if Calamity made more Epics before he pissed off? Because if I were an Epic who went on a psychopathic rampage every time someone coughed in my direction, killed everyone I loved and random strangers and then suddenly snapped out of it; I would probably kill myself out of guilt. How exactly did other-universe David die exactly? I know it had something to do with Steelheart but how exactly? What’s it like for Firefight to come to our universe? Did Prof ever go to the other universe and say sorry to that Tia for killing her in our-universe? Could he just live there? Does Meg ever let him go there like she lets David see his dad? Why in this Earth do we have such piss-pour abilities to name shit? No, I’m not over how fucking stupid the name “Newcago” is. I’m actually glad Brandon didn’t attempt to name the two universes because they probably would have been stupid. Ultimately these questions are kind of annoying that I don’t have the answers to but I still know how this world functions. It was stated that the Epics leading their small territories in the…Fractured States (sigh) needed to have servants so they found some way to keep them alive. Yes it’s a “magic” answer but it works because you’ve got people who can come back from the dead and kill with bubbles. It doesn’t work with Shadowhunters because Shadowhunters don’t have magic and their better-than-you culture makes it hard for me to come up with any logical conclusion.

Ultimately Brandon Sanderson knows that if he can distract you enough with shiny bells and delicious cheese, he can get away with his repetitiveness that may be just slightly different. Clare seems perfectly fine with lazily not explaining a goddamn thing and just using whatever works over and over again with it being slightly different. That’s what it is. It’s lazy. Clare doesn’t seem to try. There’s no exploration it’s just a random girl who is super special and the entire universe revolves around her until the next protagonist comes along. Which makes me sad in the end. Oh well, at least I have the TV show to eventually catch up on. Despite my snarky commentary, Shadowhunters is actually gaining my respect by actually killing off characters that matter to Clary.