this is traced from a reaction image

lost and found viii

bughead fanfiction - unbeta’d - chapter eight - it’s been a long day, please forgive errors


“Grief is the price
we pay for love.”
—Elizabeth II

Betty wakes up to sunlight on her face; gossamer beams filtered through dusty white shutters that paint themselves over her body still entangled in Jughead’s dark blue sheets. There’s a short moment of incognizant bliss, a drowsy illusion of peace. But suddenly, the quiet is stifling and her thoughts turn immediately to her son.

Jumping from the mattress, Betty doesn’t bother with clothes, only wrapping the sheet around her as she sprints from Jughead’s room to her own, only to realize Tobi’s not inside it.

Fear seizes her heart until she hears the sounds of a children’s show from the living room, along with the unmistakable jingles of his toys. Rushing out into the space, Betty holds the knot of the sheet in the center of her chest, feeling her heartbeat race beneath the skin as her breathing evens out.

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title: all i gave you is gold

ship: reylo

wordcount: 2728

rating: R (it’s basically pure smut okay)

warnings: it’s pretty pure smut on the other hand, they bang against a wall.

summary: Rey and Kylo start out sparring, and end up doing something else entirely. It’s not for the first time, and it likely won’t be the last. Featuring bonus musing on just how light side Kylo has become, and just how much it means to either one of them.

Rey slams a foot into his chest; her thigh screams at the motion, but there’s a savage satisfaction at the way the air shoves itself back up his throat. He staggers back against the wall, head cracking into duracrete. They’re in a training room on Yavin IV, the air thick enough to chew. Somewhere in the distance, birds laugh at each other.

“Come on,” she gasps, resisting the urge to rub at the echo of pain in her ribs. “We’re not done yet.”

She only realises what she’s said when he lifts his head and bares his teeth at her. Not a snarl, but a grin. He’s shirtless and sweat-slicked, hair a wild tangle of curls about his face, and his frame filled with the sort of tension that speaks of control.

Barely maintained control. His feelings roar, a riot of frustration and desire that bleeds over into her, only to hiss out against an ocean of calm. Rey is - always - sure of where she stands with Kylo Ren. Even when she works him on the knife’s edge of his passions.

She waits. Her chest heaves with the force of her breathing, and she’s long since stripped her outer robes. A frisson of anticipation works through her because these moments all have a tendency to turn out the same way, and she sees the light in his gaze as it shivers through him.

His muscles twitch, a ripple of motion that she can’t help follow as it moves through his chest to his arms. He wants to lunge for her, she can feel it in the tension of her own body, see it in the way he holds himself. A second passes.



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Can You Draw Me One?


Summary: Phil only had one small part of clear skin left - amongst sea of black ink he had left a spot unmarked because he wanted a tattoo that would mean something, he didn’t want another album artwork or interesting picture, and after he finds Dan’s drawings he knows exactly what he’s going to do. (punk!Phil and pastel!Dan) Phan.

Word count: 1551

So this is #2 of my Shamchat Oneshots and this time it’s Phan :)


“Hey Dan?” Phil called from his room.

Dan glanced at the hallway, as if he could magically teleport there without having to move. He sighed and got up.


Phil was sitting crosslegged on his bed, looking at a bunch of paper scattered out across the green-and-blue bedspread.

Phil was wearing plain black singlet that showed off his sleeve tattoos and black skinny jeans. Dan thought it was too unfair to live with someone as hot as Phil. It was hard enough not melting at his morning voice, but he also had a tendency to walk around shirtless and holy fuck that was not fair.

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“Colleen” and “Divers”

       Time passes hard.

       Rachel and I still need to complete our “Delving into Divers” series. I guess I did not anticipate it to take this long, but I promise we will finish one day…But now it is time for another slight digression from the series. A couple of months ago I promised an analysis of “Colleen” in relation to “Divers” and I wanted to fulfill that promise, even if briefly. Let me also say that soon I hope to tackle the relationship of “Occident” to “Divers.” (If I write it, I will do it.)

        Both “Colleen” and “Divers” are fascinated by the formation of gender and femininity, the borders between land and water, the relationship of land (or more broadly civilization) with the oppression of women, and the relationship of water with freedom and movement. In “Colleen,” the narrator was once a sea creature (the story we see here is similar to the selkie myths prominent in Irish folklore) and now has become a human through an undisclosed process and undisclosed crossing of the borders of land and sea. But after taking on the form of a human, the narrator gains a gender, or more accurately, gains the imposition of gender by the human society on land. When the narrator was found on land, the people who found her could not perceive her as anything but a woman (locating gender in the appearance of her naked body, “having lost her shoes and torn her gown”). She “must have been a thief or a whore” too, the only credible reasons—according to their ways of thinking—that a naked woman would be found on the shore.

        They name her “Colleen,” the Gaelic word for “girl,” emphasizing the gender they have imposed on her. They also tell her that she is the “most blessed” woman because she “has forgotten everything,” which we come to see is the ignorance of her former watery freedom. It seems that that absence of knowledge of her past life is a way to better engender her and indoctrinate her with the values of their culture, she is a blank slate, a piece of material, something for them to project their values upon without debate, like a woman should be. They teach her the “laws of chastity,” dress her, and she endeavors to take on roles that show she is like a woman, that she can create and make things grow (“Tilled and planted, but could not produce —/not root, nor leaf, nor flower, nor bean; Lord!”). But she “overwaters” everything she tries to create and grow (because she is a sea creature and her subconscious has taken over).

         Her dreams have become infected with gendered expectations and an obsession with reproduction. She has recurring dreams of having a child. But she dreams of the child in the sea, her past and former lives converging symbolically (“I dream some nights of a funny sea,/ as soft as a newly born baby).” Her subconscious has become full of what civilization demands of and extracts from women (progeny) and also by what she has not forgotten of her freedom, diving for the child with a “wildness” in her to retrieve the child. The sea and the child become one in the same: a goal, an acquisition, a location. Civilization has not been entirely successful in shaping her into what they expect. In another dream, a whale (“a gray and sloping-shouldered thing”) reprimands her for wearing a corset with whale bones (his “very own baleen”), a corset one of the evocative signs of oppressive gender standards for women and their sexuality in the Elizabethean and Victorian periods in Europe. The whale suggests that maybe her forgetfulness is real and permanent. By this point in the song, it seems that Colleen can only enter the water in her dreams, she is bound and fixed to the land, like the narrator in “Divers” who cannot cross the borders of land and sea herself because of the “rules that bind” her there, but longs to do so. The narrator in “Divers” is also faced with nightly dreams of retrieving the pearls from the sea. As I discussed in my essay on “Divers,” I believe the pearls represent knowledge, particularly of a sexual kind to which she does not have direct access, a sexual repression of sorts. Colleen’s dreams, as we have seen, center around sexuality, as well: reproduction and repression of sexuality.

        She later meets a traveling salesman who shows her a picture of a narwhal, a reminder of her past life. He can tell that she has a strong reaction to this image and declares that she “ain’t forgotten everything” like she should have. The subconscious has become the conscious. He also seems to know her “real name,” the one from her life as a selkie, not Colleen (“I would not speak your name in this place; /and if I were to try then the wind — I swear —/would rise, to tear you clean from me without a/ trace.”). She asks to be rescued, for him to say that name, but he reminds her that she became a woman willingly, became “cossetted” and caught the “dread disease.” He says that the disease brings “peace,” implying that such oppression is beneficial for women. During this interaction, she realizes how much she has internalized of gender and life on land like “laws that govern property” (women being property), but finds the strength to say that she does not “know any goddamned Colleen.” She ultimately does not need him to return her to her self. She rejects the gender, name, and identity imposed on her. “Colleen” then dives into the “deep blue sea…where you never in your life have felt so free,” crossing the borders between land and sea once more willingly, with her full mind, and without society stopping her. The narrator at the end of the songs picks up once more on the theme of forgetfulness, but what the narrator has forgotten is not freedom of the sea, but the constraint of the land. She encourages others to join and to engage in the same kind of forgetting, a freedom, a type of liberation.

        In “Divers,” the narrator asks: “And how do you choose your form?/ How do you choose your name? How do you choose your life?/ How do you choose the time you must exhale and kick and rise?” This narrator is specifically discussing the philosophy of birth, mortality, death, corporeality, and gender, the narrator and the song focused on constraints, borders, and transcendence of such inevitable realities for men and women. But these philosophical questions are very relevant for “Colleen,” too. Colleen had a gender, name, and more imposed on her by a society it is not clear she chose to enter. (The traveller claims she chose this life, but that is what he says and that is never revealed by Colleen’s focalizations.) But at the end of the song, she chooses to shed that gender, that name, and even that body to regain her freedom. Could Colleen escape the rules that bind her to the land and male-dominated civilization because she was never truly a part of it? How can she so easily reject that imposed life once she regains awareness of other possibilities outside of civilization and cross the borders of gender? The narrator in “Divers” knows there should be other possibilities for women, that they should enter the water, have freedom and knowledge, but she cannot yet attain those possibilities. She cannot yet forgot what society, the land, civilization has imposed on her and join the former “Colleen.”


pmharoldsaxon  asked:

A courier cube found the Doctor's TARDIS, where/whenever he was. There was a necklace. The pendent just seemed like a dragon claw, holding a marble-sized crystal ball. but as soon as the Doctor's fingers touched it, if they did, it would project a hologram of a picture taken of Theta and Koschei when they were midway through their Academy years, with their arms around each other's shoulders, smiling their wide youthful grins.

His initial reaction was confusion. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten mail. But when it opened and the necklace fell out into his hand, the Doctor immediately knew who it was from. He turned it over, smiling softly as callused fingers traced the crystal. He nearly dropped it in surprise, however, when it projected a very old, but intimately familiar image. The Doctor’s smile widened the longer he looked at it, their bright, happy faces blurring a little as his eyes filled with tears. 

Only when the image faded did the Doctor clasp the necklace around his neck, tucking it beneath his jumper where it rested close to his hearts. Perhaps it was time to go home. Huh. Home. When had he started thinking of the Master as his home?

Nevermind. The Doctor touched the necklace through his jumper idly as he stepped up to the console and put in the coordinates.