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sanchoi21 · 8 months

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Seven Minutes in Heaven

Toji Fushiguro x Reader.

Please Note: Toji, Megumi, Nobara and Yuji are your classmates. No mentions of Toji as Megumi’s dad, as he is just your classmate for now. So assume Toji is your age and both are your classmates. Otherwise it’s fluff. Images are not mine. Credits to owner: Beesflyy.

You were playing truth and dare with your classmates. It was your free lecture so, Nobara had suggested that. Yuji spinned the bottle and it landed on Megumi. As usual he chose truth because the dare you guys gave were always nasty. Toji too was your classmate who was not involved in the game, he was just busy at reading the book in his hands as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. You had asked him to join you guys but he politely denied. You were a bit disappointed as you wanted him to play. You had a strong crush on him and no one knew about that, including your BFF Nobara.

After many rounds it landed on you and you picked dare. Nobara said, “Seven minutes in heaven with anyone from this class and in a closet.” Hearing her you could only think of one person with whom you would like to do this challenge. You were quite open when it came to your feelings, so you got up from the seat and walked towards Toji. You put both of your arms on his desk, which distract him from his reading and he cocked up a brow. “I wanna do seven minutes in heaven with you. It’s a dare.” Hearing your words his eyes widened a little but a mischievous smirk plastered on his face and he responded, “Sure, why not?”

Hearing his approval, not only you but all your classmates were shocked, as Toji isn’t the type of guy to get involved with random chicks, he always minded his own business and was quite uninterested in other stuff that is normal for teenagers.

You smiled at him and took his hand, guiding him to one of closets. He followed you like a lost puppy. You both were followed by the trio also that they can count exact seven minutes. When you reach the closet, you opened it, it was indeed cramped but you anyways entered first inside followed by Toji. As soon as he got in, Yuji closed the door from behind.

It was very dark inside with only a few rays of light entering through the gap of door frame. Toji was flushed against you almost pinning you down towards the wall by his broad shoulders. He got stiff as soon as you leaned closer and pulled him closer towards you. You hugged him tightly by his neck, he instinctively put his hands on your waist, hugging you back.

Toji: Y/n... May I know, what’s all this now?

Y/n: Fine fine, I’ll tell ya. I love you Toji will you be my boyfriend?

Toji: Y-You.. Who the hell proposes so suddenly and in this way??

He was blushing hard and stuttering, which he never did, all the more reason to like him.

Y/n: I always wanted to ask you out but never had enough courage but today when you agreed to come here with me, I thought I might not get rejected.

Toji: I haven’t said yes yet, so what are you gonna do??

You didn’t give him any chance to talk more and pulled him in for a kiss. Your lips and body collided with his, forming some pleasurable friction. His lips were so soft, that you could easily melt in them. He kissed you back as you deepened the kiss. You licked the scar on his lips which earned a little whine from him. In return he bit your lower lips making you open your mouth as his smooth tongue entered your mouth and started exploring it. Your tongues fought for dominance in which he won later as you mewled his name softly in his mouth. After the intense make out session, both of you pulled away breathless.

Y/n: S-so now what?? Do you agree to be mine??

Toji: P-princess.. I love you too, I always have. Y-you are just so fucking c-cute I can’t help but tease you.

Y/n: I knew it, you could easily say no or have pushed me away but here we are kissing each other. You said chucking as you kissed his cheeks.

Toji: You turn me on Y/n. Your so stubborn at times and bold attitude adds to it.

Saying this he lifted your one leg up and you instantly wrapped it around his waist, grinding on him and pulling him even more closer than before. You both groaned at the sensation. As you both were about to lean in for another kiss, you heard the clicking of door, making you both snap your necks in the direction of light.

Nobara, Yuji and Megumi’s eyes widened at your position as by now you were straddling Toji’s hips. You both instantly pulled apart and blushed red. Nobara squealed while Yuji and Megumi averted their gazes embarrassed. Nobara: So congratulations on becoming a couple, Y/n and Toji. Yuji: You both should get a room already.

Megumi: Yeah he’s right you should!!

Yuji said laughing loudly. Followed by Nobara and Megumi snickering. Embarrassed you gently smacked Yuji on head and gave Nobara and Megumi a glare, while hitting both of their arms, as she dramatically said, “that hurts!” And soon the bell rang indicating the start of the new period as you and Toji both returned to your seats with your thumping heartbeats.

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji x y/n #toji x reader #jjk fushiguro #Fluff

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theballadofdrjekyll · 2 years

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YELLO!! I am remaking my account intro! Read for about me and DNI list!

My name is Cinnamon, but you can call me Cinna!

I am 18, white, and I’m an INFP! My pronouns are he/it and I’m trans masc! (Use They/She and I will block you on the spot! You are misgendering me even if you use they/them for me.)

For my own comfort, anyone under 15 DNI.

I am autistic and have a few Special Interests, those in italics are fixations but could very well end up as a SPIN:

Cookie Run

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (hyperfixation)

Super Mario

Journalism/The Media

I am currently fixated on Chonny Jash and his content, especially his Gothic Whores album.

I sometimes use the hashtags “cinna rants” (< usually more discourse based) and “cinna rambles” (< more so just.. rambling) - I will be trying to post more actively soon!

I will mostly be posting about Chonny Jash and various (gothic) literature, but you can also expect to see, Cookie Run, Good Omens, Undertale/Deltarune, Sky; Children of the Light as well as most Mario games! I also enjoy animal crossing a lot so !!!

I am an inspiring writer and adore writing a ton! I don’t really take requests for things nowadays as they can lead to me being burned out, but I absolutely LOVE receiving questions and stuff from you guys! So please! Feel free to send me questions, dms, and whatnot! (If I am uncomfortable I will not answer, sorry! - or I’ve forgotten.. it’s a 50/50/lh)

A couple of people have asked me if I’m okay with fanart (for my spectre au) and to that I say, YES !! I absolutely love receiving fanart and everytime I have most definitely cried, screamed and shown my family! (The Spectre Au is discontinued)

BYF:

While I’m unsure how you wouldn’t have noticed by now, I love Cookie Run! If that makes you uncomfortable, please don’t interact!

I don’t like the J&H musical, while I will not actively post much about my dislike of it, just a heads up for those who do like it !

Not much to add here that doesn’t get answered elsewhere! I try my best to tag things accordingly, especially knowing the nature of my Spectre Au!

If you want anything to be tagged, please dm or send an ask! I will try my best to tag that thing, although I may forget and if I do, I’m terribly sorry!

DNI LIST:

(I will just block how I see fit)

The usual DNI’s: homophobic, racist, islamophobic, antisemitic, transphobic(including terfs, transmeds), ableist, etc!

Anti Fictionkin, Anti Otherkin, Anti Therian etc

If you think tone tags are dumb, or disagree with xenogenders, dni

I do not mind people from “problematic” fandoms interacting with me (DSMP, HAZBIN, GENSHIN, any of those typically problematic labelled fandoms) - While not actively a part of the DSMP fandom I rarely watch some of the creators(not often at all anymore) I do not and will not post about them as I no longer care for it. I don’t mind if you guys interact but please be aware that things listed above do actually have things wrong with them, only fans who consume those things critically do I feel comfortable interacting with! I especially cannot speak as a Cookie Run fan!/lh

That in mind, if you actively support and defend problematic individuals and companies, and especially in this scenario, Devsisters - please DNI. Devsisters is littered with controversy and I consume their content critically (if that’s the right term!)

“Ralsei is Evil” supporters please uh- interact cautiously. That theory makes me incredibly upset/uncomfortable for personal reasons.

ENDO SYSTEMS AND THEIR SUPPORTERS DNI !! (Blocked on sight.)

Similarly, proshippers DNI. You all are disgusting. (Blocked on sight.)

People who romanticise mommy issues/daddy issues/abuse. DNI. Blocked on sight most definitely.

But YEA !! That’s it! I’ve probably forgotten things and this will be updated but, if you’ve made it this far, drink some water! Have a nice day/night !!

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roleplayacc2020-blog · 2 months

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(M4Aplaying) A Persona Of Our Own

Hello all! I hope anyone and everyone reading this is having a good day in our crazy reality. Below you can find a little about me, my writing style, and how I approach writing. Feel free to peruse, and if you think we'd be a good match, let me know!

You can call me T! I go by he/him pronouns. My availability is at least once a week and more. I'm always open to communicating with my partners and letting them reply when possible. I typically aim for 200-300 words in a reply. I usually don't go lower than two hundred. Unless it's more of a back-and-forth dialogue type thing. Details are super important to me from my partner, so I do my best to give them myself.

I run my replies through Grammarly before I post them (including these request posts!), so at the very least, I hope my post is grammatically correct (*chuckle*). I write in the third person/past tense style and ask that my partner does the same; this is a requirement for writing with me. What I look for regarding my partner is someone that gets invested in a story, likes putting details in, and is open to the idea of adult themes and content enhancing a story and romance and not being a detriment to the work. I enjoy writing erotica and feel it enhances the narrative.

I'm looking for someone who feels the same way. In return, I put a lot into my stories and ideas to make them as thrilling and engaging as possible.

I can't stress that enough. I'm looking for partners interested in crafting a long-term story, world-building, and don't shy away from the adult aspects.I put a lot of work into my writing, and this is both a hobby and a passion for me. Even if I primarily do fandom writing, these characters are significant to me. If you're the type to ghost more often then not, please think twice about messaging me and wasting my time.

Please note this story will have adult content and be NSFW. I don't do Fade To black and I do want romance in these stories.

I am 18+ and all participants and characters must be 18+"

If this Idea interests you, you can find me on Discord at: Traveler217

-__-

A persona of our own.

You know how this story goes. We find ourselves in modern-day Japan, in a school setting, dealing with mysterious circumstances, and with a protagonist starting a year of his life in a new setting. If you’ve played any of the Persona games then you know how this story works. What I’d like to do is my own version of it.

This means there are a few things we need to establish off the bat! Ideally, you will have played the game and thus know the themes and tropes of the game that I am going for here.

First and foremost, this will involve MULTIPLE male and female characters. We can figure out the exact ratio, BUT this will not be a one-on-one story.

I’d like this to feel as close to the games as possible. This means keeping aspects of the game (the use of free time, the social elements, and the Arcana concepts) and putting our spin on them. I have the initial concept of an idea, but be prepared for world-building, brainstorming, and the like.

Lately, I’ve been trying to add more description to my writing and what one might call “flowery” language. I love details and have started dipping into what one might call “novella” writing. There’s a heck of a lot of difference between: “She wore a white dress.” Vs: “She wore a tight white dress that clung to the curves of her body and showcased her female form.” If details aren’t your thing, then continue, dear reader.

On that subject, I’m third person past tense. I know I said this already but that is a REQUIREMENT to writing with me. I don’t do first person, and I absolutely don’t care for current tense or even future tense (“She would go and see him.”).

Now! Onto the basics of the idea I have so far:

Our story will include the usual tropes. It's a campus setting, probably with a coed dorm like in Persona 3. My character will be the “arriving” character or leader character.

As MC settles in for a year of learning, he meets our cast of lovely Arcanas. I’m thinking they have a “cosplay club” IE, a club where they all do cosplay and or LARP. So, imagine they have a club room on campus where they can create “weapons” and “armor” and stuff.

This plays into the “Persona” side of things. I’m thinking that we play with the concept of AR games and use that as our mystic side. There’s this super popular Augmented Reality Game on campus that people love. This game seems innocent at first but has secretly sinister intentions. When students start dying, our crew investigates and finds themselves sucked into a very different world than their own.

#18+ content #roleplay ad #roleplay request #1x1 roleplay #discord rp #rp request #persona rp #video game rp

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creationsgreys · 2 years

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About us examples

About us examples full#

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We recommend keeping your Our Story section to fewer than 300 words. Let your creativity run wild! Break it up into sections. Or for a fun twist, you can write your version of your love story first, and share it with your partner so that they can write a funny response. But if you and your partner have a lot to say, you might want to each write your own first-person spin on your love story to feature on your wedding website-especially if your versions of events differ! Just make sure that your and your partner's write-ups are of similar length and style. Typically, Our Story sections are written in the third person. Skip the inside jokes and keep things G-rated-remember, everyone on your guest list (including Grandma) may be reading this! Consider writing individual stories.

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Feel free to inject some humor throughout, but don't do it at anyone's expense. Your Our Story section should sound conversational and not like a school paper. Add some personality-but keep it appropriate. And obviously, avoid including identifying details like addresses, phone numbers, etc. Whoever isn't writing the Our Story section should review it before it's set live. Or maybe you'd prefer that you don't talk about the time your partner took you to the ER after a bad bout of food poisoning. For example, your partner might not be comfortable sharing the story of the first time they said "I love you". We probably don't have to list them here-just be sure to discuss what you'll include on your wedding website before hitting publish. Some details of your relationship should remain private. The proposal story is of particular importance-now whenever someone asks you to share the details of that big moment, you can simply direct them to your wedding website! Avoid sharing too many details. You can then include some favorite memories from your relationship (trips, moving in together, etc.), as well as your favorite things to do together and what you love about each other, finishing with your proposal story. We recommend kicking off your love story with the story of how you and your future spouse met and your first date. While of course your nuptials are all about toasting your coupledom, you each have unique qualities that should be celebrated, as well! Tell your story chronologically.

About us examples full#

Be sure to include your full names, hometowns, and current city of residence, as well as where you attended school, occupation, and hobbies. Introduce yourselves.īefore you jump into the details of your relationship, share a bit of information about you and your partner as individuals for those wedding guests who might not know you well. While it's totally okay (and encouraged!) to inject some personality and humor into your About Us story, avoid using too many inside jokes. Not everyone who reads your Our Story or About Us section is your best friend or closest family member, so write it as if you're telling your love story to someone you just met. Write for the wedding guests who may not know you well. Take a trip down memory lane by writing your love story for your Our Story website section-but don't let writer's block get in your way. How to Write Your Wedding Website "Our Story" We're here to share some wedding website Our Story examples and advice to help you write your own before the big day. The hardest part of writing your wedding website's Our Story is getting started. Some wedding website builders automatically include this section in their main template, while others require you to add it as part of your customization. From your how-we-met tale to the first date to your proposal, you'll take your loved ones through every important milestone of your relationship. This can be as simple as including some engagement photos of you and your future spouse or as involved as writing bios of all of your wedding party members.Īnother way to show your creativity is to include an About Us or Our Story section on your wedding website-basically telling your love story to your guests. By adding some creative personal touches, you can make your beautiful wedding website totally unique and fun place for guests to visit throughout the pre-wedding period.

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Your wedding website isn't just a place for your wedding registry, dress code information, and a countdown to your big day.

#About us examples

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neon-lights-and-glitter · 2 years

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could you do something like this but your own little spin cuz i saw it and rlly liked it

Hi! I don’t feel comfortable writing someone else’s idea with out their permission. I also don’t think I feel comfortable writing for people on jacks team/friends other then Urban. I try not to include them in my other fics. I have no problem with anyone else who does, that it a completely personal decision, it just took me awhile to write for anyone who isn’t a character on a tv show. I’ll add something like this to my list of requests just for the future if anything changes though. Thank you so much for thinking of me though! Feel free to request something else if there’s anything else you want! My requests are always open!

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gayfriedrichsen5 · 2 years

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metalandmagi · 3 years

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Winter 2021 Anime Worth Watching!

Since 2020 basically sacrificed itself to give us the most stacked anime season of all time, I’m currently buried under the weight of almost 20 shows airing per week. So for anyone who’s looking for some anime to watch this winter, here’s some first impressions! I’m speed running my list this time by only talking about the new shows...because otherwise this would be my great American novel.

If anyone’s interested, I have master lists for both 2020 anime and 2019 anime, because there’s no shortage of fun things to find.

New Shows!

And before anyone asks, So I’m A Spider, So What? isn’t on here, because CG spiders freak me out.

Cells At Work Code Black: This...less comedic spin off of Cells At Work (made by a different studio) takes the wholesome concept of Osmosis Jones meets cute anime girls and turns it on its head. In this much more depressing version, we follow a rookie red blood cell who works in the body of an overly stressed, alcoholic smoker who puts every strain on the body imaginable. I love Red Blood Cell AA2153 and his co-workers, but man am I glad we get the regular Cells At Work airing this season too, because I need something fun and uplifting after seeing my sweet son go through hell every episode.

*Heaven’s Design Team: Have you ever wondered how God came up with some of the weird ass animals that live on this planet? Like, what’s the deal with giraffes? And why can’t we have dragons and flying horses? Well this is a comedy about the engineers and designers in heaven creating the new animals that are going to inhabit the Earth. That’s it, that’s the show. It’s kind of in the same vein as Cells At Work, having comedy blend with a surprising amount of educational information. If you want something light and funny, this is the show for you (though I don’t think it needs to have full length episodes). I’m just hoping there’s an episode about how the hell the platypus was created. Also it’s the only new one available on Crunchyroll.

Horimiya: A romantic comedy about a girl named Hori who fits the image of a perfect queen bee and a quiet bespectacled boy named Miyamura who never makes an impression at school. When the two meet by chance outside of the classroom, we see that Hori is practically raising a younger brother by herself, and Miyamura is actually a sweet guy who happens to be covered in tattoos and piercings. This show is an exercise in breaking down the images people have of others in their minds, and it’s a concept that really hits home in a fun and meaningful way. Honestly, this has become one of my immediate favorites. The characters have great chemistry, and I can’t wait to see more of them!

Monster Incidents (Kemono Jihen): When big shot Tokyo detective Inugami is called to a rural town to investigate a series of strange animal deaths, he finds a mysterious boy with the nickname Dorotabo who has been shunned by the other children in town. As the detective gets closer to Dorotabo, he discovers that there may be more...inhuman secrets to the boy than he realizes...and Dorotabo discovers that Inugami has some secrets of his own. This is a hard show to sell without spoiling the first episode, but it had twists and turns that kept me engaged from start to finish. I’m really interested to see where the plot goes, because I thought this was going to be something totally different just from the PV and series summary. If it plays its cards right, this could be a great paranormal detective show!

Wonder Egg Priority: A psychological drama about a girl named Ai who starts having dreams about a mysterious egg that promises to give her what she wants most in the world...a true friend. Before long, she begins to see how the dream world and reality are tied together, and trippy antics ensue. It’s hard to say more without spoiling anything, but I had to go back and add this one in because I made the mistake of thinking it was an OVA when it’s actually a full series. And what a series it’s starting out to be. This anime has all the psychological discomfort of a Satoshi Kon product with the beauty and style of something from Kyoani (even though it’s made by Clover Works). It’s really one of those anime you just have to see to understand.

Sk8-∞ (Skate the infinity): An original skateboarding anime from Bones, featuring a typical sports anime protagonist who takes a new transfer student who has never skateboarded in his life under his wing. Together they compete in dangerous races and take the skating community by storm. The character designs rival Appare Ranman’s in outlandish creativity, and I can smell the main characters’ ship dynamic a mile away (considering they’re exactly the same as the protagonists from Robihachi). If you’re looking for some wild and crazy fun with top notch skateboarding animation, don’t skip this!

2.43: Seiin Koukou Danshi Volley-bu (Seiin High School Boys Volleyball Club): Yes, it’s another volleyball anime. And no, it’s not just a clone of Haikyu. This story follows Yuni Kuroba, a physically built but emotionally weak teenager who finds out his childhood friend Hajime is moving back to their hometown for high school. Yuni discovers Hajime has become an exceptional volleyball player and they join their school’s volleyball club hoping to turn the unknown team into a rising star. If anything, this anime is much more like Stars Align or Free, where the sport is a backdrop for letting the characters explore their personal problems. Or at least it seems that way after the first episode. I went into this show ready to throw it in the trash because how could anything compete against my beloved Haikyu, but I found myself really enjoying the dynamics of the main duo and I’m curious to see what the rest of the team is like.

And speaking of sports anime rip-offs…..I can’t believe I’m including this but…

Skate Leading Stars: The show where the animators clearly wanted to design another throw away idol anime but saw how popular Yuri On Ice was so they decided to make whatever the hell this show is instead. It revolves around a fictional team sport called skate leading, and we follow the world’s most insufferable main character, a former figure skater named Kensei who wants to return to the ice and join his school’s skate leading team after he finds out his childhood rival is going to compete in the sport. Look, this show is just trashy enough to get a certain type of audience hooked, and it mainly has to do with the best boy of the winter season, Hayato Sasugai, the aspiring team “coach” who pulled most of us into watching this show with his punk appearance, snide comments and smug personality. He’s basically the lovechild of Izaya Orihara and Shizuo Heiwajima in a high school sports anime setting. The show treats itself with the perfect amount of sincerity to get away with being absolutely ridiculous most of the time without making you feel like you’re watching it from a dumpster...like Try Knights. You will know after one episode whether this show is for you. All I can say is, Hayato is worth the watch, and I haven’t seen any 3D animation used for the skating scenes (yet) so that’s a win for me.

Honorable mention:

Jobless Reincarnation ( Mushoku Tensei): Yet another isekai where the main character is hit by a car (big surprise) and gets reincarnated into a fantasy world...but he happens to remember his previous life and narrates himself growing up as a jaded adult. I’m only including this because it looked amazing animation wise, and I love the opening where getting hit by a car and dying is actually traumatic. And I love the protagonist’s parents (who are retired adventurers who just want to bang all the time). But honestly...the main character is the fucking worst, and I don’t know if I want to keep watching it because of how creepy and weird he is. Like...he’s the hit on your fantasy mom as a baby kind of creepy and weird. But for anyone who wants a cool looking isekai that had an amazing PV, it’s worth checking out.

Continuing Series!

Because the real gold of the season is in all the established anime getting their next seasons, I’m just going to list some of the things that are also amazing and definitely worth checking out if you haven’t already (because I’ve already talked about most of them at some point and don’t know what else to say).

Attack On Titan season 4

The Promised Neverland season 2

Beastars season 2

Log Horizon season 3

That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime season 2

Re: Zero season 2 (second cour)

Dr. Stone season 2

Cells at Work season 2

Osomatsu-san season 3 (second cour)

Higurashi New (second cour)

Jujutsu Kaisen (second cour)

Not to mention all the shows I don’t watch that everyone else loves...like World Trigger (which I have seen quite a bit of, but long shounen shows are too much for me now) Quintessential Quintuplets, and Non Non Biyori.

So there’s just some of all the anime airing this season. Hopefully, someone can find something they like. Here’s to a great year...well, of anime at least...

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aoitrinity · 3 years

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Why Do I Have to Feel Like a Fucking Conspiracy Theorist -- OR -- How I Find a Semblance of Peace on Sunday Night

I’m also going to start this out with a GIANT DISCLAIMER.

I am about to theorize about what may have happened to the SPN finale. I have absolutely no insider knowledge. I am merely speculating here based on the panels and a bunch of Twitter and Tumblr posts that I have been reading over the last few days. If you are not in a good place to read such things, TURN BACK PLEASE. Go take care of yourself and your mental health. You and your feelings are valid and deserve to be handled gently right now.

Additionally, if you are here to give me shit for being unhappy with the ending, please walk away as well. I am here to reach out and share my feelings with people who might be struggling to make sense of something that upset some of us in very deep-seated ways. I am not here to bother you or critique you or tell you that you’re lesser because you liked the ending. If you felt it was good, then go enjoy it.

Long-ass post beneath the cut, everyone.

Alrighty folks...I debated whether or not to do this because I have been spiraling down the hell that is the SPN finale since Thursday. The travesty of what happened to our show--to this beloved show that seemed to have been so perfectly and precisely written for at least four years that it had basically already paved its own tarmac on which to land its plane and we all thought we knew exactly what we were going to get. And then we didn’t. We had a nigh Cas-less and entirely Eileen-less ending. We had no goodbye between Cas and Jack. We had Dean dying young after finally finding his freedom, only to ascend to heaven with no one but Bobby. We had the weird, weird, weird incest-y death scene. We had the bridge crane shot thing because...sure. You do you, Robert Singer.

It was so terrible, so truly awful, and I couldn’t seem to square any of it with anything we had known going in. I tossed and turned and cried and didn’t eat or sleep all weekend. I spent hours just reloading tumblr and twitter, going to the Misha panel, reading and reading and listening and trying to figure out what the fucking hell is going on because I needed to know exactly where to direct my anger. And after a fuckton of talking with @winchester-reload, I think we have at least a very plausible theory about what happened here--I’m laying it out below as much for my own peace of mind as anything else, because otherwise all of these thoughts are going to continue to spin around in my head for weeks and I won’t be able to do jack shit.

Now to start off, unfortunately I do think Dean was slated to die from the beginning of this season. I don’t know WHY they thought that was the best way to go, and I wish they had listened to Jensen on this one. Part of me wonders if it was an order from on high based on the discussion between Becky and Chuck earlier this season--the writers knew it wasn’t a great choice, but they were trying to signal to us that we should feel free to write our own endings to the story because they’d be better (I can wax poetic on the signs of why many of the writers probably wanted Dean to live, but that’s another post). I’m not defending that choice by any means, just laying it out there that I think they didn’t necessarily all want to kill Dean like they did.

However, what I THINK I can explain now is what happened with Misha and why we got so jerked around with Cas’s story. Consider what we know (I can’t immediately source all of it, but I did my best):

At the end of episode 15x19, Lucifer has been returned to the Empty after being killed AGAIN. He talks with Cas. Maybe harasses him a bit about Dean, idk. But then...Jack shows up. New God Jack. And he picks up Cas and pulls him out of the Empty, leaving Lucifer behind, because seriously. Fuck that guy (also leaving behind his abusive father is character growth for Jack, so yay for that).

-Misha was contracted to film 15 episodes this season. He was only in 14.

-Misha told Michael Sheen he had to go back to film 1.5 episodes after the shutdown in March. (Starts at 6:13)

-Misha was in Vancouver during filming of the finale.

-Mark P said at Darklight Con that the last scene he filmed was with Alex and Misha (and Mark P was only in episode 19).

-Misha implied that he was present for various filming moments, including Dean’s death (start at 35:15), and said that it felt like a “mini-reunion.”

-Various sources have mentioned that Jimmy Novak was supposed to be in the finale.

-After episode 18, Stands tweeted a fan who was angered and hurt by Cas's death that they could talk about the “bury the gays” issue after the finale aired.

-In episode 19 we know there were takes of the parking lot scene where the only thing fans observing could hear was Dean yelling “CAS” at Chuck (fuck I can’t find this one right now, but it’s definitely out there)

-Also in episode 19, we had a very strange, awkward montage at the end of the episode.

-In episode 20, we know there were a FUCKTON of missing scenes

-We also had no opening montage, but three other separate montages.

-Carry on My Wayward Son was played TWICE, back-to-back at the end of the episode.

-Episode 20 was shorter than normal and had surprisingly little dialogue. The pacing was VERY strange.

-The cast and crew has been almost completely silent about the finale since it came out. When they have spoken, it has been with an awkward excuse of “Uh...COVID?”

-Samantha Ferris has specifically noted that, despite the Harvelle’s being back in play and a big heaven reunion having been planned pre-COVID, neither she nor Chad Lindberg received any such invitation to return.

-Cas and Dean POP Funko figures were pictured together in a replica of Harvelle’s in 15x04.

NOW with all of this in mind (and I’m probably missing some stuff too because there is so much--feel free to add on to that list), please bear with me because here is what I think we were SUPPOSED to get POST-COVID (after it was determined that the reunion couldn’t happen because of the virus):

In episode 20, we start with our NORMAL OPENING MONTAGE, like always. It traces everything that happened during the season. We are reminded of Cas. The confession. Rowena. Eileen. Jack. Billie, God, the Empty, all of it.

Things then follow along in the episode where they did up until Dean dies and wakes up in heaven. After his conversation with Bobby, he drives off to find Cas (who, in the script, was listed as “Jimmy Novak” in order to protect against script leaks--who wouldn’t want to do their best to avoid spoilers about the finale with the wrapping of a fifteen-year show?). He does indeed find Cas. We get Dean’s end of the confession. Hell, maybe we even get a kiss. And then Dean sets up his new heaven home in the recreated Harvelle’s. Maybe Cas even fucking moves in.

Years pass. We get Sam having his life on Earth (still can’t explain why they cut Eileen and couldn’t even have Sam signing vaguely to the blurry brunette in the background; if anyone wants to take that on, go for it). Eventually, Cas tells Dean that it’s almost Sam’s time. Dean takes Baby and goes to meet Sam at the bridge. The cover of Carry on My Wayward Son plays during this much shorter sequence. End of episode.

But that’s not what we got. Instead, much of what I just wrote about was excised from the episode. The remnants were stitched together after shooting had been wrapped. Filler was added in the form of montages and long, unnecessary extra shots to get the episode to something approaching a reasonable length.

But why? Why would they spend all that time and money and quarantining on Misha, only to almost completely cut him out of the finale? I struggled with why the fuck the CW would want this mammoth show to go down as the greatest queerbait in TV history when they had the chance to do something truly beautiful and monumental with it? It couldn’t just be sheer homophobia, right? Well, I think that factored into it, my friends, but here is where my head is at right now.

It was about cold, hard cash.

Now I could be wrong, but this is what I’m thinking at the moment: Supernatural is going off of the air. Supernatural, the CW’s cash cow for fifteen years. Sure there is still money to be made on blu-rays and merchandise and cons...but they need people watching their shows. They need that sweet advertising revenue. And you know what show they have about to premiere? A show that could, potentially, bring with it a chunk of that SPN revenue?

Walker.

And if any of you know anything about the original Walker Texas Ranger, you know that the show was predominantly a show about a very heterosexual white man being very excessively heterosexual. And for SOME REASON over the years, many of the execs at the CW still seem to think that this show, Supernatural, is really attractive to a lot of middle-American white men...whom they desperately want to watch this new show with this guy from Supernatural that they already know.

Now here’s where COVID fucked us. I think Destiel was greenlit by TPTB, at least in SOME form, before COVID. But then the pandemic happened, and they panicked. They got the cut of the last two episodes and watched them in their original, probably queer form. And then, the execs at CW looked at the economy. They looked at their cash cow, about to make its journey to the great beyond. And they looked at this new little calf Walker that they were so desperately worried about. And they made a choice.

They decided that it would be too risky to take the step with Destiel. They were worried about frightening off their ever-so-valuable hetero male demographic with the possibility that a traditionally masculine man in his 40s could be in love with another man in an overt way. It was homophobia mixed with greed, spun up by fear for their revenues because of COVID.

So they called in Singer, possibly Dabb, although I wouldn’t be surprised if they went straight to Singer. They told them that Destiel had to go: executive orders. And the only way to make it go in a way that removed any trace of what had been there was to rewrite what happened to Cas and cut him out from the last two episodes entirely. It was too late to reshoot anything. They had to just cut and stitch and fill with bullshit montages.

They removed the scene at the end of 19, probably because Cas and Lucifer discussed Dean. All that was left of Misha there was his voice on that fake phone call. They may have cut other things too, but I would bet my life that they cut a scene from the end of the episode and replaced it with that very strange montage. Then they moved onto 20. They cut out every scene with Cas. And left in only two platonic mentions of him, neither made by Dean. They tried to imply that Cas might show up in Dean’s heaven at some point, but that was as far as the editors could go in the time they had. They filled in with montages, awkwardly long shots, anything they could do to fill all of those missing scenes.

And they even had to take the opening montage, because literally everything in it pointed to Cas being there at the end of it all. They wouldn’t be able to leave out his scenes, they were too critical to the season. They couldn’t cut his confession without raising eyebrows. So they cut the whole thing and moved “Carry On My Wayward Son” to one of the newly-added driving montages at the end. Which is why we awkwardly had both songs play back-to-back--again, such a strange choice unless they were out of options and couldn’t exactly buy rights to a new track or compose anything else.

And so we were left with the shadow of the finale that we deserved, that Cas and Dean deserved. We were left without resolution or happiness or words. Bobo told us the most important thing about happiness is just “saying it” and our characters were silenced without anyone ever knowing the truth.

I think the writers might have known and been given the new party line that “Misha never filmed, he couldn’t, sorry, it was COVID, no one’s fault!” But I don’t think most of the cast even knew it had happened until they watched the finale on Thursday with us (though they might have been confused why the bit from 15x19 was sliced, they could reasonably have assumed it was a time thing and also BL episodes don’t make sense anyway). Why do I say that?

Well, first of all, Misha started sending out a bunch of excited texts to fans with some old BTS pictures about an hour before the show started airing on EST. He also wanted his children to see the episode, his YOUNG children. Why would he show them such a traumatic episode if their Dad wasn’t in it? What if it was because he wanted them to witness what was going to be a monumental moment in queer television history that their DAD got to be a part of? And then that was all dashed.

Which is why I think the cast and crew went almost completely radio silent the next day. I don’t think they knew. And based on how they have been acting on social media since then, I think many of them are absolutely furious, but they have been silenced because of NDAs, because they want to find work again in a cutthroat industry, because they don’t want to bring down the hellfire of Warner Brothers Entertainment upon themselves. So the most we have gotten is a little acknowledgement from the MERCHANDISING COMPANY trying to validate our pain (god bless Shirts, she is a LIFESAVER) and a response to my salty tweet about keeping good stuff in the closet from Adam Williams (the VFX coordinator) that seemed to acknowledge the validity of my complaint.

Then there was a scramble behind the scenes, I would bet my life. Talking points were fed to the boys who had panels today, to CE, to all the cast and crew:

Toe the party line. Misha never filmed. This was always about COVID. Do not mention Destiel. Do not mention Dean’s feelings for Cas. Do not promote the Castiel Project or anything that validates the idea that this was anything less than a superb ending.

And that is why we have heard so little from the cast on this front, and what we have heard has been muddled and contradictory. That is why the writers are saying nothing. That is why we have been left adrift.

Now before I close this out, I do want to say that I really, genuinely do not think this was on the writers at all. I feel like they tried to give us the best ending that they could, in a writers room that we know is notorious for splitting along party lines about the overall story (BL and Singer, who have always been about the brothers and their man-pain vs. Dabb and the rest who always seemed to want more for them and for Cas). I think they did everything in their power to at least end with Dean and Cas happy together. If they could give us nothing else, they wanted to give us that. And then the network took it from them. From us. From everyone.

For the sake of fucking money.

And the WORST PART OF IT ALL, for me, is that in the wake of this disaster, the fans have been left to try and figure out what happened. We have had to wade through a mire of conflicting information in the midst of all of our collective anger and grief over this garbage ending of a show many of us have loved and even relied on for YEARS, all the while wondering if we’re just fucking crazy, if we have all fallen collectively into the hole of conspiracy theories. That hurts ESPECIALLY badly because we have taken so many hits over the years from other groups on social media saying we were crazy for seeing things that weren’t there (especially Destiel), for writing meta and analyzing tropes and believing the evidence of our eyes and ears. The network has made us relive that entire nightmare WHILE processing our grief for a show we wanted so badly to celebrate and which instead we now have to mourn.

So again guys, I cannot prove that this is exactly what happened at all; this is simply my idea of what may have happened. But right now, it’s the most sense I can make from this mess, and to be honest, the act of typing it out has helped me enormously in my processing of it all. I feel like I can see more clearly, like I know where to target my outrage and where to direct empathy. I feel like just fucking maybe, I might be able to do my job tomorrow without bursting into tears at random moments.

I really hope that this post has helped some of you to, in some small way, process this too. We get through this the way that Misha told us at his panel this morning, the way the writers have told us to do all season long...we throw out the story God gave us and we make it better. We write our characters the happy endings they deserve.

We save them.

One last thing--if you have not already, please consider channeling your rage into a donation to one of the five causes our fandom has put together to pay tribute to our beloved show and to mourn the ending it should have had:

-The Castiel Project

-Dean Winchester is Love

-Sam Winchester Project

-The National Association of the Deaf

-The Jack Kline Project

#supernatural season 15 #spn finale #speculation #destiel #destielgate #the ending was not the ending #fuck the cw #trust the story #we were robbed

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rat-bastard-fics · 3 years

Text

Post Date Night

Paul X (curvy) Reader

Summary: Paul misses date night but he makes up for it.

Warnings: Smut (outside), Seduction, Teasing, Swearing, Exhibitionism, Spanking, Squirting, Unprotected Penetration, Ripping clothing

Note: None of the pack members (including Paul) are my own creations. I do not advise having unprotected sex.

Words: ~950

Paul has a very serious love-hate relationship with leggings. He loves the way they show every single curve of my legs, the way they cup my ass. He hates the way other people notice. And, more than that, he hates how difficult it is to remove them. Ever since I yelled at him for ripping a pair—despite how much I enjoyed what ripping them led to—he’s careful to take his time. Something to know about Paul: he’s painfully impatient. Especially when he wants something—something like you.

Last night, Paul forgot date night. Instead, he spent the evening playing video games with Jared. We aren’t big spenders—mostly because we can’t afford to be—but I still felt miffed that I missed out on one-on-one time. If I couldn’t have it last night, I guess I’ll have to get it tonight.

I slowly approach Emily’s door as I reposition my shirt—well, technically Paul’s shirt. He never wears them anyways and I love the look in his eye when he sees one on me—as though it’s an outward sign of me being his or vice versa. I tied up the bottom to land at my hips to avoid covering my ass. When Paul sees these leggings, I’ll have him on lock.

“Y/n!” The boys call my name as I walk in the door, greeting me without looking away from the television screen.

“What are you guys watching?” I stand by the edge of the couch near Paul, pretending I don’t notice how quickly his eyes are on me.

“Playing.” Quil corrects me.

“Fortnight.” Embry chirps up, popping a chip in his mouth. To my side, I feel Paul’s fingertips brush against my thigh.

“Sounds fun.” I can feel his eyes raking across my skin through my clothes. “Can I try?” I step away from Paul and his frustration is palpable. Quil offers me his controller and I sit all too near him so he can show me the controls. To anyone else, this is innocent. I’m not much of a gamer—at least not for Fortnite—and Quil is probably the least threatening guy around here second only to Seth. But Paul knew the game I was playing.

“Ah shit, y/n, didn’t your mom want us to stop by tonight?” It only took minutes for Paul to speak up.

“That was canceled, remember?” I speak over my shoulder, tossing him a knowing look. He’s playing with his fingers on one hand, rubbing them together. He sucks on his tongue, making a brief clicking sound. I smile and turn back to the game.

“Fuck! This game sucks”

“Oh come on, y/n, you’re such a sore loser,” I repeat Jared’s word in a mocking tone before passing the controller to someone else. I wasn’t trying, not really. This wasn’t the game I gave a shit about. Stepping back from the game I walk over back towards Paul and sit on the armrest beside him. Without hesitation, Paul grabs my hips and pulls me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me tightly. As I press back against him, I can feel his halfie poking against my ass. I lean my head back against his shoulder and look at him, smiling as I bite my lip.

“Last night was date night.” Immediately, he groans and leans his head back.

“Shit.” He lifts his head again and looks at me, apology clear in his eyes. He couldn’t get too soft in front of the guys and I respected that. Instead, I just smile and nod, kissing his cheek. He knows we’re good. That, of course, doesn’t mean I’m done with my game, though. I pull out my phone and begin scrolling through my camera roll. During all the downtime I’d had last night, I’d chosen to take a few risque photos--and by a few, I mean a lot. I know Paul can see my screen just as I know nobody else can. I begin to flick through a series of photos that slowly, garment by garment, position by position, get more explicit. His arms tighten, fingertips pressing into my hips, and I can feel him getting harder beneath me. I drag my fingertips along his arm--a seemingly innocent sign of affection. Paul loves when My nails are just a little extra long--he loves the feeling of them pressed into his skin, scarring his back.

I can feel myself getting aroused--I suppose I’m even better at this than I remember. I put on my best acting chops, looking down at my phone confused before getting up and walking towards the door. I pretend to call someone, pressing the phone to my ear as I step outside. As soon as I’m out of sight I begin walking towards the woods. It’s not long before I hear the screendoor slam behind me and Paul catching up. He grabs my arm and spins me back towards him, his eyes lust blown. He takes in my appearance now and my breath quickens from need alone. I grab Paul’s hand, pulling him with me as I walk backward, pressing my back to a tree. He caresses his hands down my sides, not missing a single curve, and I whimper against his touch.

“You’ve been playing with me.” He states the obvious in a possessive whisper, hot breath spreading against the skin of my neck.

“It was only fair.” I swallow hard, trying not to look as wanton as I felt, “You made me wait--”

“So you did the same to me.” His lips hover just a breath away from my skin and I arc my back, pressing myself against him. He lets out a heavy breath, trying to subdue a groan. “I want you.”

Grabbing one of his hands, I use it almost as a prop to push up the edge of the shirt I’m wearing, slowly letting the heat of his skin spread through my torso, until landing it on my breast.

“Prove it.” That’s all it takes. His lips are against mine in a raging hot need. Without hesitation, I hop up and wrap my legs around his waist, my arms draping around his neck. He catches me with one arm in anticipation and aggressively presses my back against the tree behind me. The bark scratches my skin but only adds to my arousal.

He pushes my bra aside, popping out my tits, and lowers his head to begin sucking on my nipples. One arm still supporting me, he slaps my ass hard with his free hand and I can’t help but moan. He growls--fucking growls--at this. Grabbing my waistband he looks at me and I nod, giving him permission to break my rule, and he tears them from my body. Pushing aside my underwear, he’s quick to unzip his shorts before plunging into me. I gasp as he moans, filling me up, hitting those deepest parts that ached for him and only him. He begins thrusting, reconnecting his lips to mine and now using that free hand to rub my clit. His calloused fingers add a friction far better than a smooth hand might and my orgasm quickly builds.

“Fuck, Paul, I’m so close.”

“Cum. Cum for me.” He nips my ear and my body quakes as I cum but his pace is unrelenting.

“Uh, uh, uh, uh” I moan with every thrust, my nails pressed into his back.

“Fuck, just like that. Shit. Fuuuuuck.” He groans as my nails dig deeper, the tree against my nearly bare ass scrapes my skin and I’ve never been so happy to be overstimulated. “I’m close--” he grunts and begins rubbing my clit in just the perfect way--the way I love the most. He wants me to finish again before him. He wants to make me--

I gasp and moan his name loudly, my nails dragging down my back as I spasm around him and squirt on his dick. I can feel him throbbing as he cums and he leans his head against mine. We both pant heavily, looking at each other before I laugh.

“You better not use this as an incentive to miss date night again.” He pouts briefly but agrees.

“Only if you don’t put me through damn near cumming in my shorts around the guys.” I laugh and kiss his nose.

“Promise.”

#Smut #twilight smut #Paul #paul lahote #paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote fanfiction #oneshot #twilight imagine #imagine #wolf #imprint #paul x reader

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (iv)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, guns, mention of war, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: good evening i’ve never been to any of the places i mention in this series so dont come @ me

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He spends the weekend doing nothing. It’s supposed to be relaxing. He finds it nauseatingly boring.

“No mini mission this week?” Steve asks him from across the couch.

They’re supposed to be catching up on Star Wars but two prequels in and Bucky could feel himself lose his sanity. Anyone could present him with a random assortment of alphabets, call it a Star Wars species and he would have no reason not to believe them.

It’s not like he doesn’t like space. It’s just that he’s had enough of it and everything and everyone who came from it for the foreseeable future.

“No. Someone else is taking care of it.”

“Didn’t you volunteer for this?”

“I pulled myself out of the case.”

“I thought you were having fun.”

Bucky’s head slowly turns to look at him. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. “Looked like you were.”

Well, he wasn’t. He likes it here at home, glued to the TV. Popcorn beside him, sweatpants on. Refreshing, calming, slow, mundane, and Jesus Christ, so fucking boring-

His spiralling is interrupted by the dinging of the elevator to the common floor. No one was allowed up there unless it was extremely urgent. Guests were barely allowed into the Tower as it was.

It reveals the receptionist from downstairs, Marie. She’s always a little reserved, a little shy. But Bucky had seen her chew and spit out trespassers or anyone who dared to get on her nerve. He adores her.

“Hey, Marie,” Steve says while Bucky sends her a friendly wave in greeting. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a hostage situation downtown,” she informs them.

“Okay...” Steve drawls, waiting for a reason why this was an Avengers level threat.

“They’ve asked for Mr. Barnes by name.” She makes a mention towards him.

Bucky sits up straight. Bits of popcorn fall off his chest.

“What?”

“They said, and I quote-” she looks down at her notepad. “‘Tell that grumpy motherfucker that I’m waiting for him and that he’s not getting out of this so easily because we have come too far.’ End quote. They’ve also told me to include a kissing emoji. And a skull.”

Steve and he look at each other.

“Well?” Steve prods.

Bucky sighs and gets up to go get ready.

The entrance of Chuck E. Cheese is more crowded than he’d ever seen. He wasn’t even sure he’d seen people in the store before. If there were, they probably only came up till his waist.

There are a few journalists, a few policemen standing together outside. Whispers of confusion and curiosity reigned free.

Bucky gently pushes his way to the front. He gets a nod from a police officer who opens the door for him after a quick briefing.

The place is darker than it usually would be. A trademark, it seemed. The blinds are drawn shut and most of the light is coming through whatever sneaks in through the crack.

“Hey, Barnes.” Your voice is muffled by a mask that looks suspiciously like it was made out of classroom craft supplies.

There’s a person in a loose chokehold in your hand with a gun pressed against his head. Once again it looks straight out of a cartoon, purple with round disks lining its barrel.

“What’s all this now?” He gestures around monotonously.

“A hostage situation. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“Got that part down, genius,” he bites back. “But why?”

“Fucker kept harassing me when I was walkin’ down the street.”

The guy’s helpless gaze met Bucky.

“Catcalling me, stalking me.” You tighten the grip you have on him. “Call me darlin’ one more time, you son of a bitch. I dare you.”

He wasn’t impressed with his pleading eyes. He kinda felt like he deserved it.

“Why’d you do it here?” The bright colours were starting to give him a heading. “And where are the staff?”

“It’s symbolic, Bucky,” you emphasise, “He deserves to be among other rat bastards.”

Of course.

“The staff?” he asks again.

“Gave them thirty bucks and told them to leave. I’m not a monster.”

“Right.” He doesn’t bother refuting you. “Why’d you call me here?”

“Dunno.” You shrug. “Thought it’d be fun. You having fun yet?”

You shake the guy you’re holding. He gives a small whimper.

Bucky doesn’t want to stop you. He had chugged enough Respect Juice in his lifetime to know that this guy probably deserved a threat or two.

Hell, he’d even help but you were more than capable of handling this on your own.

“Listen,” he sighed. “As much as I’m sure he deserves it, this is technically illegal and I’m required to stop you.”

“Sorry sarge, I thought you weren’t interested in playing this stupid game with me,” you mock, voice dropping to imitate him.

“I’m not.” It wasn’t entirely true. One Saturday with Jar Jar Binks had convinced him otherwise.

“Okay, so before you leave, do me a favour and call Hawkeye. I hear he looks mighty fine when he’s annoyed.”

His face involuntarily scrunched up. You were going to replace him with Clint? Clint?

He probably took it more as an insult than he should have.

“I’m not doing that.” Bless his foul mouthed friend, but he was a little shit who was too sarcastic for his own good. At least twice a week he’d say something stupid to Bucky and then take out his hearing aids when he tried to argue back.

“You’re leavin’ me with no options here,” you groaned, using your thumb to flip a switch. The gun looks like it powered up, lights along the side turning red.

If he let you have this, it’d be a bad look for the Avengers.

New York man dies in Chuck E. Cheese lone hostage situation, unable to be saved by same superhero who tried to fight Thanos with a machine gun.

“Tell ya what,” he says instead, “If you kill him, there won’t even be a slight chance that you’ll see me again.”

Your grip on the gun falters.

“If I let him go...”

“I might consider coming back next week.” He’s trying to spin it, make it look like he’s the one with the upper hand here. “But you gotta let him go.”

You search his face for any signs of dishonesty.

“Let him go or you’ll never see me again.” It sounds too much like Clint’s arguments with his dog who brought a live squirrel into the house.

“Fine,” you relent, a glint in your eye. “but say goodbye to this fuckface.”

Before Bucky can open his mouth to shout in protest, you pull the trigger. The man clenches his eyes shut, face red.

He expects blood to be splatter across his face.

Nothing happens.

A barrage of bubbles floats into the room.

“I meant it literally,” you say, pushing him off you. “Say goodbye. He’s leaving.”

The man stumbles to the ground and Bucky doesn’t make any attempt to catch him. He scrambles to his knees, picking himself up and scurrying out the door to a hoard of reporters.

The door shuts behind him with the chime of a bell.

“You’re annoying,” Bucky states, giving a small sigh.

“I’m well aware of that.” You pull off the mask, wiping the sweat off your brow.

“Where is the agent assigned to your case?”

“Dunno. Last I saw he was crying on the driveway of my lair. I just figured he’d pick himself up later so I left him there.”

Bucky’s nose twitches.

“You weren’t actually going to kill him, were you.” He shrugs with his shoulder towards the door. It wasn’t a question, more a statement. He knew you wouldn’t.

“I could have.”

“But you weren’t going to,” he repeats.

“No,” you admit. “I wasn’t. But I’m glad to see you showed up.”

“You held someone hostage as leverage.”

“No, no. I held someone hostage and then asked to see you. They were completely unrelated.”

“You’re evil.”

“You jumped to conclusions,” you point out. “Would you like a trampoline next time? Maybe a pogo stick, you clown?”

He has a very real gun in his holster. His very real metal death arm aches to use it.

“No one else agreed to come,” he deflects.

“We both know that’s a lie. You were going to come back anyway.” You stuff the bubble gun back into the bag. “I’m deliciously irresistible.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Then beg.” You give him a smirk and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, you win this round, sarge.”

He doesn’t say anything. He watches you remove your heist gear, revealing normal civilian clothes underneath.

You walk casually to the kitchen, intending to leave through the back door.

“But I can’t say I lost either.” You send him a wink before swiftly pushing open the door and leaving him behind.

He only watches you leave.

It doesn’t hit him until a few seconds later that he let a criminal out of his hands when there were several policemen and journalists outside.

He entertains the idea of chasing you down and handing you over.

It takes him only a few seconds to decide that if they wanted you, they’d have to try themselves.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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violetlilysunshine · 3 years

Text

Late Night

Chris Evans x Female Reader

Summary: You meet Chris working in a bar, before he invites you to his house after closing.

WC: 3,525

Warnings: maybe a quick make out?? idk if I need to warn that, but better safe then sorry. Fluff, fluff, fluff

A/N: I’m sort of feeling a part two, because I’ve been in such a fluffy turned smutty mood recently. Anyone down?? Lemme Know :)

Tagging the lovelies that wanted this! @maximeevansblog @saltyflowermakertaco

MASTERLIST

You’ve been working in this small bar for years now; it mainly catered to older folks, the owners having fallen in love with the 40s and 50s and themed their bar after that. You quickly fell in love with the decades as well, hearing the old music and seeing all of the older people’s faces light up, reliving their glory years. However, usually, there were a couple younger groups there to relish in the theme a bit.

You started as a waitress at 18, trying to work your way through college. Quickly, you moved up to bartender, before one slow night when you randomly decided to sing along to one of the songs that the Thursday night live band always played. They were a pretty good group, and you soon found yourself listening to the songs they played in your free time. After you sang with them, the owners decided to add you to the regular Thursday night entertainment, still bartending on other nights.

You were nearing the end of your set, just two more songs to go before you could take off the heels you had ridiculously decided to wear tonight. They were very 50s and you loved the look, but, carelessly, you hadn’t broken them in yet. You thought you would be fine, but your typical little dance during Fly Me to the Moon had suffered greatly. However, they matched your midi-navy-polka-dot dress and your pin-up style curls, so it wasn’t a total loss.

“Alright everybody, we’re getting close to that time of the night,” you hummed into the microphone, “for this next one we’re gonna slow things down a bit. To those of you I’ve been watching sit in your chairs all night, you’ve only got two more chances to ask your ladies to dance. Even if you don’t know how, ask her anyway, she'll love it.” you joked.

The band started to play Paul Anka’s Put Your Head on My Shoulder, a personal favorite of yours.

“And remember, if anyone needs a partner, I’m ready and willing,” you joked as the intro played. Quite a few times, older men who no longer had a partner took you for a spin for a song or two and you loved it.

You hummed a bit before you started singing along.

As you were singing, you watched a few of the younger guys in the back finally bring their girls out on the floor. Smiling as you watched them, you swayed back and forth.

You kept going with the song, almost at the end, glad that someone hadn’t asked you to dance, because your feet were really killing you.

You finally finished it off, earning a small applause as you twirled with the mic.

“Alright y’all, last song of the night and you know what that means as well,” you spoke to the crowd, “last call for alcohol,” you sang out.

You pointed back at the bar, and your friend who was tending tonight, before she waved at the group. A few people left the dance floor to get a drink as you continued your end of the night spiel, “fellas still sitting by themselves, last chance to take a spin on the floor. I see you still sitting there in the back! It’s a short song, I promise,” you chastised the last table you saw still sitting there.

Two couples from that table got up to dance, leaving one man sitting by himself. You felt kind of bad for turning everyone’s attention to him, but you had offered earlier to dance if anyone needed a partner, so the ball was in his court.

You signaled to the band to start up and spoke, “alright here we go,” into the mic.

It’s Been a Long, Long Time kicked off, and you instantly swayed. The band didn’t usually play this song, but after your Marvel obsession kicked in, you convinced them to add it to the set list.

You sang away, loving life, but your eyes didn’t leave the man in the back. He was obscured by shadows - probably purposefully - but you felt drawn to him already. Something about him sent tingles down your spine.

Before you knew it, the song was over. You took a small bow before turning and pointing at your band, getting the audience to applaud them individually.

“Thanks everybody, have a good night and drive safe. Hope to see you next week!” you spoke quickly and everyone filed off the dance floor to collect their things.

“Thanks, you guys, that was a good show!” you spoke to the band before you rolled up your mic cord and packed it away backstage. As soon as it was safely in its case, you took a seat on one of the saxophone cases and started rubbing your feet.

Soon, the band came back to put their instruments away and you reluctantly gave up your seat. You headed to the bar to sit with your friend while she finished cleaning up; this gave you a chance to rest your feet a little more before attempting to maneuver yourself home.

You glanced around the room quickly and everyone had cleared out except the back table. They were all standing, putting on jackets, and just beginning to file out the door. The couples went first hand-in-hand, followed by the single man. You looked back at your friend and began to make small talk about the next night, seeing as you were off, before you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“That was a great set,” the man spoke out in a low raspy voice, “I wish I had a dance partner.”

“Thank you, but if I remember correctly, I did offer to dance with anyone. Anyone included you, Chris,” you quipped back lightly, chuckling.

“Well, doll, the way you were stumbling about up there, I didn’t want to risk it,” he joked back, “and you know who I am?”

“I’m gonna head in the back to finish cleaning up and then we can go,” your friend spoke, gently tapping your forearm. You usually carpool to work because you live a few houses down from each other and it just makes sense.

“Alright, sounds good,” you answered her before turning back to Chris, “well I did just sing Steve and Peggy’s song. I wouldn’t be doing it justice if I didn’t know at least its major history. And I don’t think I was stumbling.”

“Okay, fair,” he answered, “maybe stumbling wasn’t the right word, but I can tell your feet hurt in those shoes.”

A small silence settled between the two of you as you got lost in his eyes, barely registering what he had said. His lips curled into a small smile as he gazed back. His eyes darted from yours to your lips for only the slightest second, before wandering down to your feet, which you were rolling slightly on the leg of the barstool, attempting to massage them a little. He looked back into your eyes again, his smile growing. The tension in the room rose quickly, and you began to get a little hot under his gaze. You were wondering how you ever got so lucky to have Chris freaking Evans looking at you like that.

“I’d offer to get you a drink, but you did say last call a little while ago,” he spoke slowly.

“That I did,” you answered, “maybe next time.”

“Or, I could take you somewhere else,” he offered lightly, his voice raising in pitch.

“Hmm, I don’t know if my feet are up for it,” you said softly, “and I don’t know where else we would go on a Thursday night. Everyone is probably announcing their own last call.” You were surprised by your own confidence in front of him. You had no idea how you were keeping it together, let alone flirting.

“Another option,” he suggested, “I could offer you a nightcap at my place. Or maybe coffee? A glass of wine?”

“Eager there are we?” you quipped.

“Well, what can I say, that last song did it for me,” he chuckled, “but really, it would be totally casual, no expectations.”

You thought for a moment, weighing the options. He probably wasn’t a murderer, or a kidnapper. He was probably one of the gentlest guys you could go home with, and lord knows you’ve taken a few risks with others.

“Totally casual doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Really?” he asked, “great! Do you have a car here?”

“No, we carpool,” you said, gesturing at your friend who had just walked back into the room.

“Ready to go?” she asked.

“Actually I was going to head out with Chris,” you said, looking at him while you spoke.

“Oh, okay,” she said, her voice dropping slightly, “well, I’ll lock up the front and we can head out the back together then.”

“Great,” Chris answered, his eyes never leaving you.

You slipped your shoes back on and stepped down from your stool. You grabbed your purse from next to you and turned to grab your jacket, which was no longer on the back of your chair. You looked up and saw Chris holding it open for you and you slipped your arms in, your heart swooning wildly. You smiled at each other and followed your friend out the back.

You hugged her quickly, whispering “I’ll send you my location,” in her ear. After all, a girl can’t be too careful.

You followed Chris to his car around the front of the building, where he opened the door for you before jogging around to the driver’s side.

His car was nice, as to be expected, but not flashy and you enjoyed his modesty. It smelled freshly cleaned - a big plus - but also rode incredibly smoothly. You were more than content to drive around with him, listening to pop songs and belting out musicals, but before you knew it, he was pulling into his driveway.

He got out first, stepping out quickly. You waited half a second, sending your location to your friend quickly. As you were reaching for the door handle, it was being pulled from the outside. Always a gentleman, he is.

Chris flashed you a charming smile as you stepped out, swinging your purse over your shoulder.

“This way, darlin’,” he spoke lowly, shutting the car door. His hand was quick to find a home on your lower back, gently guiding you towards the front door.

Once up the stairs, he crossed in front of you, unlocking the door and slowly pushing it open. The alarm on the wall chirped, signaling the opening of the front door. Chris quickly bent down with his hands in front of his knees, preparing for the impact. Dodger came flying around the corner having heard the chirp, and slammed right into his dad’s hands before jumping onto his dad’s legs begging for pets.

“Hey bubba, how you doin’?” Chris spoke to his best friend, rubbing his ears, “this here is Y/N, be nice to her buddy, no jumping.”

Dodger quickly took notice of you and immediately tried to jump onto your legs, a greeting you weren’t necessarily against, but since Chris said no, you quickly pushed your hand down and met him on the ground. He sat at your feet, immediately accepting your presence.

“He never does that!” Chris spoke, shocked at how quickly Dodger took to you.

“What can I say? I must be magic,” you joked and shrugged at him, making him laugh.

“Well let’s move out of the doorway, yeah?” Chris asked before closing the front door behind you.

Chris moved to the side of the hallway quickly; he kicked off his shoes and encouraged you to do the same. You happily followed suit, aching to get those damn heels off again. You sighed in contentment once your bare feet hit the cool hardwood floor, throwing your head back slightly, closing your eyes, and breathing deeply.

“That bad, huh?” Chris chuckled, waiting for you at the end of the hall.

“Oh yeah, I definitely have to get used to those before I try to wear them again,” you answered back.

“Well, follow me and we’ll figure out that drink I offered.”

You set your purse on the bench next to your shoes before following him into the kitchen. He strolled around the island, resting his forearms on the island.

“Take a seat, doll,” he encouraged you, gesturing to the barstools on the other side.

Usually you wouldn’t have obliged so quickly, offering to help him make whatever, but given the state of your feet, you hopped up quickly.

“Alright, so you have a lot of options, water as always, coffee, beer - my personal favorite - tequila, a slew of other liquor, juice, soda, milk, - which would be weird but whatever - wine, take your pick,” he said smiling at you.

“Coffee sounds good to me, to be honest,” you answered quietly. You would’ve chosen beer simply because it was his favorite, but you weren’t a big fan if you’re being honest.

“Coffee it is, gorgeous,” he answered, filling the pot with water and loading in the grounds, “milk, creamer, sugar, black? What do you like?”

“Milk and sugar would be good.”

“You sure? I’ve got peppermint creamer,” he coaxed you.

“On second thought...” you chuckled, taking him up on his offer.

“Alright, doll, peppermint it is,” he laughed.

Soon the coffee was ready and as excited to try the peppermint creamer as you were, you could’ve watched him flutter around the kitchen for days. He handed you a sleek navy blue mug, taking a red one himself.

“Shall we head to the living room?”

“Whatever you want, it’s your house,” you laughed.

“Alright, follow me,” he said, leading the way, “you too, Dodge,” he called over the island. Dodger had been sitting at his feet the whole time, watching his dad.

He settled into one arm of the couch, pulling the coffee table closer to rest your mugs on. He placed his mug down and gestured for you to join him. You sat on the other end of the sofa, gently, looking over at him. He threw an arm over the back of the couch, kicked his feet out in front of him, and turned his body towards yours. Dodger watched you sit down and looked at you, almost saying “you’re in my spot,” before turning around and going over to his bed by the fireplace.

“How’re your feet doing now?” he asked you.

“They’re okay, it may take a few days to recover,” you laughed back, turning to face him as well. You held your mug in one hand, bringing the other to your foot as you swung your legs up at your side.

Chris reached over towards your feet, pulling them into his lap, “here let me,” he spoke.

You blushed lightly at the very domestic action, but who would say no to a beautiful man rubbing their feet? He massaged them gently and you let out a little groan.

“You really don’t have to do that, but you’re so good at it I don’t want you to stop,” you told him.

“Well then I won’t stop, darlin’.”

He looked at you from across the couch, making your heart swoon again. You let out the quietest moan, enjoying the work of his hands, and closed your eyes.

Chris laughed lightly, whispering something to himself under his breath. You were a little lost in the moment, so you didn’t hear him.

“Sorry, what was that?” you asked him.

“Oh, nothing, just talking to myself,” he answered. You knew that wasn’t the case, but let it rest anyway; it couldn’t have been too important.

Chris started asking you about your work and friends and family, what kind of movies you liked, and music preference of course. You asked him as well, really getting to know each other. He had stopped rubbing your feet a long time ago, but kept them in his lap, an arm thrown across them, rubbing your shins and ankles lightly. Dodger was snoring loudly across the room, and had been for quite a long time. The both of you were so lost in the conversation, that you didn’t realize how late it had gotten. You glanced out the window behind him, beginning to see the sunrise.

“Oh my goodness, what time is it?” you asked him, chuckling.

He glanced at his phone quickly, “almost 5:00,” he said with wide eyes, “I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said a little embarrassed, “I’ve stayed way too long, I’ll just get out of your hair.” You began to pull your legs out of his lap, but he locked them down.

“You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to,” he spoke quietly, “I’ve really enjoyed your company.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to overstay my welcome…” you trailed off.

“Positive, sweetheart. Please, stay.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” you asked him, raising an eyebrow. He nodded slightly at you. “Then I'll stay,” you said, settling back into the couch.

“Can I get you another cup?” he asked, gesturing to your mug.

“Sure,” you answered lightly, handing it to him. He got up and trailed into the kitchen. You waited half a second before following him.

Chris heard you walk into the kitchen, turning around to look at you quickly, “sorry, can I get you something else?”

“No, I’m fine,” you answered.

“Oh, well, uh… I would’ve brought your mug back to you,” he chuckled.

“Oh that’s okay, I felt weird just sitting there,” you laughed lightly.

“Oh, okay,” he chuckled back, “well, since you’re here now, can I offer you breakfast?”

You didn’t realize how hungry you’d gotten until he offered, “only if I can help,” you responded.

“Oh well, that’s a deal breaker, darlin’,” he answered, almost seductively.

“Well then no breakfast for me,” you laughed.

He was starving too, only having had a small dinner before he went to the bar last night. He didn’t know when you’d eaten last, so you must be hungry as well.

“Well, maybe there is one way, you can help,” he said in a high pitched voice.

“What can I do?” you asked quickly.

“Come here,” he said.

You walked around the island you had been leaning on, joining him between it and the cabinets on the wall. Chris extended a hand towards you. You took it quickly and allowed him to guide you closer to him. Once you were fully in front of him, he dropped your hand and grabbed both of your hips. He picked you up quickly, surprising you, before setting you on the counter.

You laughed lightly at him, “okay, now what?”

“Now, you sit there and look pretty while I make breakfast,” he chuckled out, standing between your knees, keeping a little distance between the two of you.

“Chrissssss,” you whine out at him.

“What, doll?” he asks, taking a step closer to you as you wrap your hands around his shoulders.

“I can do more than just sit here.”

“Oh, really?” he asks, taking another step towards you, now standing between your thighs, almost flush to the counter.

“Yeah, I can,” you breathe out, barely able to contain yourself now that he’s slotted between your legs.

“Nope, darlin’, this is enough help. Promise,” he says quietly.

Chris glanced down at your lips quickly before looking back into your eyes. He ran his hands up your thighs, starting at your knees, before settling onto your hips again. The temperature in the room seemed to rise at an unbelievable rate as you stared into each others’ eyes. You could feel his breath on your lips, you were sure he could feel yours as well, the smell of coffee and peppermint radiated between you. He slowly leaned in and connected your lips.

It was like time stood still. He moved one of his hands around to your lower back, pulling your body to the very edge of the counter and flush against his chest. The other hand stayed firmly on your hip, digging in just a little. You wrapped your arms around his neck even tighter as you molded your lips together. He licked your bottom lip slightly, asking for entrance, which you granted. He explored your mouth just a little bit before pulling back, breathless, and resting his forehead against yours.

“Well, that was, uh…” he spoke.

“Yeah,” you answered, breathless as well.

You held his gaze for another second before moving forward and kissing him once again. You pecked him sweetly, before mumbling against his lips.

“I’ll let you cook, as long as you let me clean up,” you laughed a little before connecting your lips again.

Chris let the kiss hang just a little longer than a peck before pulling back completely. He pecked your forehead quickly, before answering.

“No,” he said firmly, turning around and letting out a loud laugh, one you knew so well.

You laughed right back at him, watching him start to cook and shaking your head to yourself. How did you get so lucky?

#chris evans #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x fem reader #chris evans fanfiction #Chris Evans fanfic #chris evans one shot #violetwrites

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laurensprentiss · 3 years

Text

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 13:

Gif credit: @hqtchner

A/N: I toyed with several ideas for this one, but I wanted the reader to be strong in her own right which is why this takes the direction it does.

Warnings: Strong depictions of violence, assault, blood, vomiting. Graphic injury, choking, gun violence.

———

“What you remember saves you.” - W.S Merwin

———

“You don’t like what I’ve done with the place?”

“Jordan.” You breathe. “What did you do?”

His jaw sets. His expression goes from glee to fury and he’s next to you in a flash, nose to nose, dragging your head back by the hair on the nape of your neck. A wince escapes your mouth when the pulling sends a sting up your scalp.

“What do you mean, what did I do? Isn’t it obvious?” He sneers, punctuating his words with another pull of your hair.

You cry out in pain, your neck straining. The rabid look in his eyes and his bared teeth send shivers down your spine.

He continues, “I made sure you were going to stay all...mine.” He whispers, releasing his grip, smoothing the top of your head. “Isn’t it sweet? I did it all so I could have you all to myself… and instead of thanking me, you’re acting like you’re above me. Like you always do. Maybe I need to teach you how to be grateful-”

“I’ll be grateful.” You offer in a quick breath. “I mean- I am. I am grateful. I was just so…” You swallow thickly, tearing your eyes away from the pictures, “Surprised that you did all this. For me.” You fight the tears pricking your eyes.

“You mean that?”

You swallow the bile rising in your throat. “Yes. I do.”

“Good. Y’know all I ever wanted was us to be together? When you broke up with me, I admit, I was angry. I thought you were fucking somebody else.” He paces the length of the room and that’s when your gaze falls to the gun he has tucked into the waistband of his jeans. “But I realised you couldn’t possibly.”

You brace yourself when his gaze falls to his handiwork on the walls.

“But then…” He inhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I saw you with him.” His volume rises steadily. “I send you gifts, I send you letters, I give you clues, I even draw blood for you and you repay me by parading around another man?!”

You cry out when he delivers a blow to the left side of your face, a crack resounding in the room. Your skin blisters red hot where he strikes you, you swear he’s torn open some skin on your cheek. It sends your head spinning, you figure you’re already nursing a concussion, this just makes it worse.

“That’s not-”

“Don’t you interrupt me.” He spits, his face close enough for you to smell the bourbon on his breath. “You had him come to my house today, try to scare me? He thinks he’s a big powerful man, FBI… that badge doesn’t mean shit, he doesn’t know who I am.”

“Jordan-”

“What was it about him anyway? You could’ve had me, you know, we could’ve been a dynasty.” He’s grandstanding. Always did have a problem with his fragile ego. He turns his back to you, scanning the pictures on the wall. “He’ll get what’s coming to him. I’m having it taken care of.” He mutters.

Your blood runs cold. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, sweetheart. You’re not stupid, you couldn’t possible have thought that I’d let him live?”

Your heart skips. The ‘other guy’ that was to be taken care of - Hotch.

“Jordan, no. It wasn’t like that, I swear.” He turns slowly, rage behind his eyes that’s only thinly veiled by a psychotic smile. “There’s nothing between us! Please don’t do this. I’m begging you, don’t do this.” You plead.

“Why do you care?”

“-What?”

“Why… do you… care?” His eyes are fanatical, nostrils flared. “If nothing happened between you, why do you care what happens to him?”

You know why now.

“Because I don’t want anyone to die! Him, Emily, anybody! I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” You stutter through your sobs. “Please don’t do this.”

“You don’t want him to die? How stupid do you think I am?” He grabs the back of your head and directs you to a picture of you and Hotch on the gazebo - the day you’d met. “You look at him like that because he’s a friend?” He spits.

He’s right, though - that’s the thing.

You don’t know how you didn’t realise sooner, how you didn’t see it sooner. Maybe it’s because you couldn’t see your own face when you were around him, but the way you look at him, your smile.

You don’t think you’ve looked at anybody like that before.

Tears roll down your cheeks now, eyes welling over.

He smooths over your hair, straightening out his own shirt. “I will make it quick though. Humane. I owe him that much.”

“What?”

“I owe him. How do you think you got here?” When you can’t formulate the words he continues, “Hm, let me spell it out for you.” He continues his rapid pacing, fingers compulsively scratching his neck. “We break up, you betray me, so I leave the country. I come back, try to get you back, you betray me, again. FBI man comes into the picture, his girlfriend feels neglected, said girlfriend then conveniently runs into me at a bar after an argument, confides in me and starts sleeping with me. She’s a real peach, though. Total Type-A, wouldn’t let me fuck her raw.” He adds, rolling his eyes.

You feel nauseous.

You wonder if Hotch knows.

He goes on, “I fuck her, she tells me everything I want to know. Including the fact that she thought he was cheating on her.” He laughs bitterly. “I thought we might have had something when you called me a few months ago, remember that? That was a good time.” Your stomach turns when you think back to the worst mistake you’d ever made. “But then you stopped taking my calls, I put two together from there, figured you were fucking him. I knew then that he had to die.” He rolls his eyes.

His smile reveals a row of eerily straight teeth but there’s nothing behind his eyes except a sick kind of glee.

“It wasn’t like that, I swear to you, he never touched me.” You plead with him, desperately. You reckon with the fact that if you couldn’t regain control of this situation, Hotch would die. “Look, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”

“I swear. Anything. Just call it off, please.” He considers your statement for a moment, kneeling down between your knees again. He makes a point to flash you his gun, the silver glinting, before reaching for a switchblade that’s tucked into his back pocket. You flinch when he brings it purposely closer to you but he cuts you free.

“I’m going to test you. Stay here with me. You run, I kill him.” He lays the knife flat against your bruised cheek, “Then I kill you.” He whispers. You wince when the sharp edge breaks a thin layer of skin and you feel a warm trail of blood on your cheek.

You nod desperately, agreeing. “I swear. I’ll do anything, just call it off.”

Just as he finishes cutting you free, his phone vibrates against the wooden table under the window. He excuses himself, face lighting up for a moment. You try your best to hear, but the voice on the other end is indistinguishable.

Jordan’s responses are short.

“Fitz.”

“Hello?” He presses the phone closer to his ear. “Lawrence? It’s done?” He smiles at the response from the other side.

“30 minutes.” He hangs up and rattles off a quick text message before setting the phone down again.

He sighs, concealing his unhinged glee when he turns to look at you. “Bad news babe.” He says tutting, knowingly with a disturbing smile. “I know I said I’d call it off but,” he waves the phone in the air, “it’s already done. Your friend, Aaron?”

Oh please, no. Don’t say it.

“He’s dead.”

———

Once the first bang reverberates in the nurses’ station, time seems to move in slow motion. McCall yells for everybody to get down, cocking his gun. Panic erupts for a moment before everybody falls to the ground, the first shot already fired.

Where it comes from, who fires first, it isn’t clear, the whole thing in reality is over in a matter of seconds but time still seems to stop.

Now, McCall kneels over a dead body, hyper-aware of eyes on him, “He’s gone.” He whispers.

A hand grips his shoulder from behind as he stares down at the corpse in front of him laying in a pool of blood, three bullet holes in the chest.

His ears still ring.

“Hey. Emily’s fine. I had two cops posted outside her door.” He turns to find Hotch, who can’t tear his eyes away from Officer Lawrence’s dead body in front of them.

They’re about to let medical personnel clear out the area and wheel him away in a body bag when Hotch spots something in Lawrence’s scrub pockets.

“Wait! Hold it a sec?” He asks, retrieving a piece of paper and cellphone from Lawrence. They make their way back to Emily’s hospital room in unison.

McCall looks at him, puzzled. “You okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“That was the first person you ever shot, right? He’s dead. You’re allowed to not be okay.”

“I’m fine - I need to focus. I need to get her back.” He’d be lying if he said his hands weren’t trembling but he has more pressing matters on his hand. The need to get you back safe and sound outweighs any personal conflict for him. He unfolds the piece of paper, muttering aloud a series of numbers. “It’s a phone number. What’d you wanna bet it’s Jordan?” He does a double take when he sees his own name written in capital letters on the other side of the paper, passing it to McCall.

“Some vendetta, hm? He was sent to kill you.” McCall takes the phone from Hotch and starts to dial when Hotch places a stalling arm on his.

“Wait.”

He dials Garcia’s number deftly, asks her to search for a location on the number before they call it, but to his disappointment, it’s a prepaid. He then has Garcia set up a track and trace before he lets McCall dial the number.

“Ready, Garcia?”

The phone rings three times before it’s answered, Jordan’s voice curt and straight to the point, assuming it’s Lawrence. Hotch can hear Garcia’s typing and beeping but when McCall doesn’t say anything, Jordan takes matters into his own hands.

“It’s done?” Jordan asks outright.

“Yes.” McCall replies with little inflection, keeping his voice even so as to not arouse suspicion. Jordan gives McCall a time - 30 minutes, before snapping the phone shut.

McCall tries the number again, but it’s dead. Destroyed.

“Garcia, anything?” Hotch asks desperately.

“No, sir, it was barely long enough to triangulate the call, I’m sorry.”

“Keep searching, Garcia, we need this address. Look for something in isolation, out of the way. It’s gotta mean something to him.”

“Yes, sir. Typing as we speak.”

Hotch rubs an exasperated hand over his beard, “Y’know the media can’t get wind of this, if he has access to a TV or radio and sees I’m alive? He’ll kill her.” He shudders as the words leave his mouth, making way for the possibility that he does not want to reckon with.

You might already be dead.

He dials quickly “Chief Barnes? I need a favour.”

———

He’s been pacing the length of Emily’s hospital room for the past twenty minutes, waiting for Chief Barnes to call in every favour he can to keep the media at bay so they can keep up the charade. He increases the TV volume opposite Emily’s bed when he sees a news report flash across the scene.

“Good evening, everybody. We come to you live tonight with some breaking news.”

He braces himself. Did Barnes manage to cover the hit on him?

“The daughters of two US Ambassadors have reportedly been involved in what appears to be a multi-car collision in the Virginia countryside, earlier tonight.”

Two pictures appear side by side of you and Emily.

“The daughter of Ambassador Prentiss was rushed to hospital earlier tonight and remains in critical condition at Bridgepoint Hospital after sustaining multiple injuries. The daughter of the US Ambassador to France however, is reported to be missing. The Ambassador himself is reportedly unaware of his daughter’s condition, presumed to be en-route to Paris tonight. Three people were pronounced dead at the scene, including Metro PD officers Evan Matthews and Howard Denton.”

He waits anxiously for any mention of his own name or Jordan, Lawrence, but the anchor passes over to the correspondent.

He sighs in relief, just as his phone rings.

“Garcia?”

“I think I finally have a location on Fitzgerald. I checked for any and all properties under Senator Fitzgerald’s name, his second and third wives, his spawn’s name, even the Fitzgerald Family Trust. Nada.” She pauses for breath. “So. I dug down deeper. I searched instead for any properties under Sloan Marie Fitzgerald - still nothing. But then I chanced a search under her maiden name, Hamilton, and wouldn’t you know - the Hamilton family had a cabin between Rock Creek Park and Montgomery County. The late Mrs. Fitzgerald would take him to said cabin most summers before she died.”

“Alright, good work. Send us-”

“I'm not even going to let you finish that sentence, because it’s quite frankly insulting. Coordinates are on their way to you now, Sirs.”

Hotch huffs a laugh, it’s the most he can muster right now. He knows he owes Garcia a massive bouquet of flowers after all this is over.

He grabs McCall by his jacket. “Suit up. We’ve got an address.”

———

‘He’s dead.’

The onset of shock and unmistakable rise of nausea had caused you to retch violently and empty the contents of your stomach into the nearest toilet.

Your legs had given out then, and you’re now planted on a dusty armchair, finding yourself staring into nothingness, your body still stinging with the shock and injuries you’d sustained.

It’s all you’ve done for the past fourty something minutes. The blood stays rushing in your ears, and the pounding in your head is unrelenting. You haven’t said a word since, your body’s energy drained. You’re almost catatonic, unable to even shed a few tears for Hotch’s death.

He’s dead. He’s dead because of you.

You think back to the first time you met, he’d been so bright eyed and optimistic. Disarming. You think about the way he’d told you about his hopes and dreams, his plans for the future as a profiler. He’d had so much to live for. All of that had been ripped away from him because he’d gotten involved in your case. It was your fault he was dead.

And you didn’t know how you were going to make it out of this. Your limbs feel like concrete - fatigue, shock and grief make it hard to formulate any kind of rational thought. Jordan’s hand comes to smooth the top of your head once again, but the gesture is far from comforting or loving.

“It’s okay. You’ll see in time, this was for the best. This way, there aren’t any distractions.” He whispers. He’s been pacing the length of the cabin, repeatedly checking his second burner as though he’s awaiting some news.

He resumes his pacing when you finally break your silence, your voice hoarse.

“You killed a man.” You whisper.

“What’s that?”

“You killed a man.” You sob quietly. “You had someone killed, that doesn’t mean anything to you?”

“Oh I did more than just have your little lover killed. I made sure your father and that Prentiss bitch were taken care of too.”

Your vision tunnels, a high-pitched whine penetrating your skull. You feel like the ground has just been ripped from under you, like you’re falling. You can feel your heart shatter, the splintering fragments of your life piercing your skin.

“My father? He’s not here. He’s-”

He glances at his watch. “-On his way to Paris?” You feel the bile rising again. “I know. Like I said, I’m having it all taken care of. They’re all dead, babe - or will be, soon.” He brings a hand to your face, brushing his thumb over your cut. “Don’t you see? I did it so I could have you all to myself.”

The glee in his voice provokes something in you, a rage you’ve never felt before. You figure you have nothing else to lose, everything and everyone you ever loved is dead, you’d either fight and die quicker, or you’d stay and die slowly.

In a move that stuns even you, you spit on Jordan’s face and bring your hand up to strike him notwithstanding the piercing pain in your ribs. The flat of your palm makes sharp contact with his bearded cheek. The sound echoes in the room, and your own hand stings from the force, but a minute satisfaction settles into your bones.

He takes a minute to steady himself, but when he turns to look at you, his eyes flash with something you’ve never seen in a person before. In one fell swoop, he drags you to stand by your hair, pushing you into a glass frame against the wall.

The glass shatters, puncturing the skin on your cheek and forearm where you bear the brunt of the impact. He lands two blows to your stomach, causing you to keel over, winding you. The pain blooms to your already bruised ribs, your breaths ragged. He grabs you then by the throat, pinning you against the wall, your breaths coming short and constricted.

He shakes you against the wall, his hand tight around your throat, cutting off your air. “You ever pull something like that again, I’ll kill you in ways you couldn’t possibly imagine.” He growls in a low voice. “Do you understand me?” You can feel the blood pumping in your face, your eyes starting to bulge.

You drive your knee into his crotch with all the force you can muster, exactly like Hotch had taught you. You then go for his shin that only gives you mere seconds to grab your breath when he lets you go in pain.

You fall with him, knees giving out when you gasp for breath, and when you see him charging towards you again, you reach to your right for a dusty glass vase that sits on a single table. You manage to get yourself back on your feet right as he’s about to make contact with you again, the butt of the vase smashing into his skull.

He cries out in pain as he falls to the ground again on all fours, blood streaming down his face. A gash on his forehead seeps blood and several pieces of glass are embedded in his face.

You’re still trying to catch your own breath when you spot the silver glint of his 9mm catch the light in his back pocket.

This is your chance.

You half-crawl, half-run to him, landing a violent kick to his stomach to strike him down. You grab the gun from his back pocket, stumbling a little from the adrenaline coursing through your veins, your hands trembling. You check the magazine and load it as fast as your hands will allow.

You grip the Beretta just as Hotch had taught you, wrapping your dominant hand around the magazine, your index finger parallel to the chamber. Your other hand wraps around your dominant, as you stand over him.

“Get up.” You snarl. “Get up, NOW!” You order him through your coughs.

He turns around slowly, slipping twice on his way up, groaning with the exertion. His face mirrors your own, a gash on his lip and forehead, blood streaming down his cheek.

He chuckles darkly, revealing a set of shark-like teeth that are covered in his blood. “Oh… you think you’re hot shit. You even know how to use that thing? Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Your body aches feverishly and you swear you could pass out at any minute, vision blurry. You can feel your grip loosening and you’re trying to centre yourself when Jordan takes advantage of your momentary slip.

He lunges for you in a flash, knife in hand.

———

“We’re about a mile out, I want sirens and lights off. He can’t know we’re coming.” Hotch says into his radio. He’s watching the road ahead as they get deeper into the woods, the off-road terrain making it hard to keep control of the SUV.

They’re backed up at rear by three MPD police cars, Chief Fuller’s attempt at making nice with Hotch after their earlier altercation.

He swallows thickly, his mouth like cotton. He knows he can’t afford one wrong move, not here. Not with you. He needs to get you back. He made a promise to Emily.

He’ll die trying.

He keeps a firm grip on your chain, rubbing it one last time for steady luck before tucking it into his shirt pocket.

A clearing of trees reveals another path to them. It leads off into the distance, to a small wooden cabin around 80 feet away. It’s illuminated by amber light emanating from a single window.

“Alright, guys. Nice and slow, headlights off, we’re gonna dismount now. Everybody out.” He whispers into the comms once they clear another 50 feet.

Leaves rustle underneath their feet as they stealthily approach the cabin, guns cocked. Hotch has three cops flanking him and McCall brings up the rear, covering the back exit.

They’re almost at the entrance when a loud bang resounds from inside, and Hotch short circuits, his knuckles white around his glock.

Inside the cabin, you send Jordan flying with a shot to his shoulder, the smell of gun smoke burning your nostrils. Your hands tremble violently, your mind temporarily blanking - you feel like you’re swimming. Your ears ring from the noise, a high-pitched whine piercing your brain.

There’s another bang almost immediately after Jordan stumbles backwards but you’re sure you only fired one shot.

Jordan’s body in front of you is your only focal point, so much so that it’s only when you see McCall and two cops approach him writhing on the floor that you come back into your body.

You realise the second bang had been them kicking down the front door. Your hands on the Beretta loosen just slightly and you let out a deep exhale. The voices in the room are still swimming as your brain slowly catches up.

“Grab her.” McCall’s voice calls out. He shouts into the comms that he needs medics, and suddenly there’s a distinct feeling of a hand on your wrist and a body next to you. You reassure yourself that Jordan is on the ground so you let your hands fall limp, dropping the gun and it falls to the ground with a sharp clack. Your eyes are still trained on McCall pressing on Jordan’s wound.

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me.” The voice cuts through your still-ringing ears.

You know that voice.

You’d know that voice anywhere.

Your heart thunders, and your lips start to tremble as you try to reconcile everything you thought was reality with what’s really in front of you.

You turn slowly to find an achingly familiar pair of warm hazel eyes.

He’s alive.

“Aaron?” You sob. You reach out for him but he catches you before you can stumble, his arms steady around your waist. He whispers into your hair, bringing a protective hand up to cradle your head as you sob into his chest.

“It’s okay. I got you. I told you I’d come for you.”

His voice is the last thing you hear before you black out, your body finally offering you some well-earned reprieve.

———

Tags: @oreogutz @andromedasstarship @galacticnerd-78 @izzyl13 @bananabucky @crying-river @purpledragonturtles @gabbysblogthingy @archiveofadragon @yoshigguk @acidicbloody @jeor @ivebeenthinkingboutu @bauslut @averyhotchner @vashanatasha @hotchwhore15 @pjmjams @slxtherinchxser

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#aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch smut #hotch fluff #cm fanfic #cm fic #cm fic rec #criminal minds

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kiingocreative · 3 years

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The Structure of Story is now available! Check it out on Amazon, via the link in our bio, or at https://kiingo.co/book

I often feel that it took me thirty years to write my first book, No Pain, No Game. Not because I was physically writing it for that long, but because finally publishing my first novel felt like the culmination of three decades of bad writing, half-finished novels, random short-stories and a million mundane diary entries. It took that long to experiment with my craft, hone my skills, and master the fear of putting my work out there for all to see.

Exaggerations aside, it actually took me three years to write No Pain, No Game, from typing the first word on an otherwise blank page to having a fully-fledged, ready-to-publish novel. Those three years consisted of mostly undisciplined writing, sitting down to work on the story as and when the urge arose, sometimes not looking at it for weeks on end, and only getting back to it when inspiration hit. Only when I got serious about publishing did I put in the hours consistently, whether or not I was in the mood for it. The whole experience felt like not so much like long distance running, but more like a slow, often sluggish stop-start stroll, with a heart-pumping sprint at the very end.

I came out of having published the book revved up from adrenaline, soaking in the momentum, fretting for more and ready to do it all again. Out came the laptop again, the rush to get the first draft over and done with and the mad rush into editing-land.

It’s a Marathon, Not a Sprint (and not interval running, and not a slow leisurely walk)

The thing with sprinting, however, is that if you do it for too long, you quickly run out of breath and I soon learnt that maintaining that level of effort over time was unsustainable. Somewhere in the middle of editing my first draft, I hit a wall.

A big, fat, hundred feet high brick and mortar monster of a wall. I never saw it coming, and I face-planted right into it. For weeks after that I couldn’t look at my manuscript or social media, and I had to take a proper break from it all to restore.

The break gave me a chance to introspect and take stock of what had happened. It felt to me that, if I wanted to keep on writing more books (which I did) I had to pivot from my disorganised style of writing to a more committed endeavour. There’s nothing wrong with a leisurely walk, or random bouts of interval running, but I realised it wouldn’t give me the kind of results I was truly after. I had to look at writing as a marathon, and build the sort of stamina and endurance I needed to do this many times over without burning out.

From Dilettante to Disciplined Writer

When I think back to writing my first book, I wonder if there’s some truth in the saying that ignorance is bliss. Because I was less focused on the outcome at the time, I was better able to enjoy the ups and downs of the process, especially because I only sat to work at it when I felt like it. I was also mostly unaware of the mountain of logistics that come with writing and publishing a book, so I’d be able to see the distance I’d covered, without worrying about the miles that still stretched ahead of me. Yes, ignorance was, most definitely, a little bit like bliss.

Reminiscing on her own experience, author Shamika Lindsay says that, with her first book, ‘the process felt so different and [she] almost felt the pen gliding across the paper but with [the sequel], it was like pulling teeth’. In fact, she adds, starting to write her second book from scratch felt like ‘such a chore and [she] was just so eager to complete it because [she] felt like it took so much from [her] to write than the first book’.

For R. G. Tully, author of the Ardamin series, who put greater emphasis on the editing stage when working on his second book, the process also took longer and wasn’t always enjoyable. ‘The editing grind was exactly that, a grind’, he confesses.

But you have to do it whether you like it or not, because the only way out is through. There are, fortunately or unfortunately, no shortcuts. Fortunately, because it’s the very act of going through that arduous journey that makes you a better writer in the end. And unfortunately, because there can be times it’s just not all that pleasant.

You’ll be surprised the amount of distractions that manifest themselves when you desperately need a reason not to work on your manuscript — it’s actually quite spooky. Treating writing with discipline, organisation and professionalism is exactly what will prevent you falling off tracks, and what ultimately gets the work done. And that’s the difference between a published book and one that’ll sit indeterminately unfinished somewhere in your archives.

A Tough Act to Follow

Unfortunately, there’s still a little bit more to writing your second book than just great discipline. Even when you’re able to get yourself to follow through and show up for your craft, giving your first book a literary sibling can come with its own challenges, especially because you have something to compare it to.

And it’s not only you, but your readers too, who will be expecting certain standards from your writing, especially if it’s a series. Though it shouldn’t come in the way of writing the book you want to write, the relationship of trust you’ve built with your readership through your first book still needs to be honoured, and this can cause certain amounts of pressure.

‘I felt a little pressure to keep the same feel about the story’, R. G. Tully says, ‘and to include more from my secondary characters, give them a little more depth’.

Stormi Lewis, author of the Sophie Lee trilogy, puts it simply: ‘It was a little hard to decide how to exactly start [with the second book]. At first I was worried and became overwhelmed because so many loved the first one. I didn’t want to let anyone down. I had to step back and come to terms that they loved it for being unique. And the only way I could stay true to the story and give them what they really wanted was to focus on the story and not so much about what I thought they wanted for the second.’

For others, the comparison can be more inward-facing, like author Tara Lake, who admits that writing the second book in her series has been a challenge, because she’s ‘struggled with comparison of the self: past Tara had a lot more time to devote to writing, present Tara has much less time with [her] kids being home full time from school during much of the pandemic’.

For others still, some of that pressure can be self-imposed. When writing her second book, Freya McMillan shares that ‘[she] put a huge amount of pressure on [herself] as [she] wanted it to be meaningful in a particular way to honour [her] dad, who died a few years ago. Once [she] stopped doing that, it was much less challenging to write’.

It Ain’t All Bad.

I do want to pause here and add that not everyone faces such challenges. There are authors out there who launched into writing their second book with more ease than the first.

Sabrina Voerman tells me that ‘[her] second book came a lot easier to [her] than [her] first book. The idea hit [her] so hard and fast that it took [her] aback, and [she] could do nothing but write it’, and the entire novel was written in a matter of weeks, whilst her first book took years to finish.

Same for Trevor Wiltzen, who says that writing the sequel to his first book went smoothly, greatly helped by the fact that ‘[he] wrote the second book immediately after the first, [so he] knew the characters really well’. He admits he ‘found it very freeing and really enjoyed the process’.

Even Stormi Lewis, who struggled at first, adds that ‘once [she] got started, [she] was fine’ and that ‘[she] felt the writing was solid and [her] best book yet, simply because [she] really got to develop more of the characters and the story’.

As with everything, we must then conclude, there will be as many types of experiences as there are writers out there. So how can we best prepare for what’s to come?

A Chance to Grow

Performance coach Tony Robbins says that the quality of our lives is intricately linked to the quality of the questions we ask ourselves on a daily basis. So if we need to face something that’s outside our comfort zone — starting again from scratch on your second book for instance — is it a punishment or is it a gift? Is it a curse or an opportunity?

I’m tempted to think that the level of discomfort that can come with writing your second book is a gift, because it gives us a chance to grow.

It’s a chance to take everything we’ve learnt from doing it the first time around and take our learnings for a spin to see if it makes the process easier. It’s an opportunity to improve, to work at our craft in new and wonderful ways.

It’s both daunting and incredibly exciting to face a brand new story — or a different side to the same story for those writing series — and to dare to plunge into the unknown of where it’s fated to take you. It’ll see you grow and evolve as a writer and, in turn, you’ll get to watch your writing morph into something more mature than it was before.

I say look at your writing like you do the passing of seasons: different times will have different qualities, different characteristics, different feels to them. You live and learn through each of them, and gather a wealth of experiences that eventually inform who you become. Maintaining the discipline to write through every single one of them is what will ultimately give your work all its depth and substance.

All it takes is that first word on the page.

And the second.

And the third.

And all the words beyond that.

#writingtips #screenwriting #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writers #writing #writerblr #writing advice #writing community #writing resources

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queenlilith43 · 3 years

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The Eldest Curses

So we know of the eldest curses. We know they are the oldest child of a Prince of Hell. But what do they do? What powers do they hold? And how far do they have to fall?

In this post I'll go over some theories and all the information we know about them, confirmed eldest curses, and their respective parents.

I'm sorry if my hate for Asmodeus comes out, but as my friend @patalliumapples said, "You hate Asmodeus so much and it’s so funny to me. Like I hate him too but it seems like he personally murdered your family and it’s so funny."

Tags: @apple-bottom-jeansx @the-blackdale @murderbabies @unorganisedbookshelf @revati3008 @patalliumapples @tenacioushubb @hardlymatters @pjo-tsc-trc-otherthingstoo if you gave me a theory idea you'll be tagged later in the post.

What We Know

Eldest curses are the oldest children of any given Prince of Hell at a moment. So if a Prince of Hell has seven kids alive, the oldest one will be his eldest curse. However, this is unlikely, because they die easily. The magic is too much for them to handle.

There are two confirmed eldest curses living right now: Magnus Bane and Tessa Gray.

Magnus Bane

Age: Anywhere between 380-400 years old

Parent: Asmodeus

Powers: He's very powerful, but any specific powers based on his demon parent? Not really. Unless you count sexy as a power.

Contact with Demon Parent: Magnus has met Asmodeus several times. He summoned him when he was very young, and the regretted it. Then there was the Crimson Hand, his little demon-worshipping cult. Magnus ran into Asmodeus again in The Red Scrolls of Magic and City of Heavenly Fire, but hasn't been under his sway . . . Yet.

Tessa Gray

Age: 147-ish, born in 1862

Parent: Belial

Powers: Tessa, being half Shadowhunter, is special. She doesn't have many regular warlock powers, but she can shapeshift into anyone she likes. However, after absorbing the power of the angel Ithuriel, it's harder for her to change. It's also not a good idea for her to shapeshift when she's pregnant, as found out in Ghosts of the Shadow Market.

Contact with Demon Parent: She has not talked with Belial. Her children, James and Lucie, have had contact several times throughout the Last Hours, but she herself has not talked to Belial. Belial did consider possessing her, but between Ithuriel protecting her and his sexism, it's unlikely.

The Other Stuff

Eldest curses are supposed to be powerful. They're literally demon royalty, and Magnus and Tessa's uncle is Lucifer. Just think on that.

So I'm just gonna talk about some stuff Asmodeus brought up in The Red Scrolls of Magic. I was going to analyze some quotes but it just was taking me too long and I was getting too angry at Asmodeus. My solution is to just do a brief summary of what he said.

Eldest curses have some powers. We don't what, but I can gather they were made to rule. (On iron thrones as Asmodeus said, which is very specific)

And Asmodeus sure loves his. Why? Because he's a manipulative son of a bitch that's why. (The hate is strong right now.)

Asmodeus has had a lot of kids, because he's the demon of lust, but Magnus is very powerful. He's strong, and Asmodeus wants to mess with him to take control of him.

And now onto the theories!

Theories

And the crackpot clowning starts here.

@the-blackdale came up with the theory that some ✨ necromancy ✨ will be in order and Magnus dies at some point, but comes back to life in TBVOTD.

@murderbabies suggested that to summon Lucifer needs blood to be summoned. Blood of an eldest curse, most likely, because we know warlock blood has some powers. I really don't think it would rivers of blood, but enough to draw a small sigil. (As we know from Chain of Iron all the Princes have a sigil that might be used to summon them.)

@patalliumapples and I have the headcanon Raynor is actually Sammael's son, but it's unlikely to actually be canon. Still, a nice thought.

I think Aldous Nix, the warlock from The Bane Chronicles who making a Portal to Pandemonium, is an eldest curse. Maybe Belphegor. He is dead now, but before that, he was at least 1000 years old. That was before Sammael did his little Incursion thing, and that means there had to be a very powerful demon to get to the surface to be his father. So possibly an eldest curse.

Basically assume every warlock is an eldest curse unless confirmed otherwise.

So combining the two theories from @the-blackdale and @murderbabies is that maybe the death or at least one eldest curse would be needed to get Luci back into this world. They paint a sigil with that blood, and bring Lucifer in through it. Not sure when necromancy would be in order, but maybe Asmodeus would bring his son back to show him what they had done.

@revati3008 brought up that maybe Max is an eldest curse who was placed strategically so Magnus would adopt him. And who did this? Asmodeus. Because he wanted to manipulate his child.

Just imagine that. Asmodeus holding the knowledge of their child's parentage over Magnus and Alec's heads. Sounds like something he would do. This would also be even more causally cruel if Max is an eldest curse, because most of those die under the weight of their own power.

But that's super-likely because of a vision Magnus had in TLBOW and also based solely on vibes.

And then the good ol' key theory. @tenacioushubb is the mastermind of this one.

The core idea of this theory is that the eldest curses are analogous to keys. And these keys are needed to unchain Lucifer from a prison. This theory does require Luci to be chained up, but this could explain why demons are coming from Pandemonium in the first place. Lucifer being chained up (probably in Pandemonium) would be the source of all the demon energy. Him coming to our world would be the "wicked powers" aspect of that series.

Also, as @patalliumapples pointed out to me, maybe this how Asmodeus is going to use Magnus. Though this stems from something I noticed before, and ties into something I call the "Castle Theory" which is legit just based off some lyrics from Halsey's Castle.

Sit down and grab some popcorn this one's complicated and very crack pot.

So here are the lyrics that inspired me:

I'm headed straight for the castle

They wanna make me their queen

And there's an old man sitting on the throne

That's saying that I probably shouldn't be so mean

I'm headed straight for the castle

They've got the kingdom locked up

And there's an old man sitting on the throne

That's saying I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut

Straight for the castle

I've said before this song has the same vibes as Clary going into Edom to rescue Jocelyn and the others. This will come up later.

Focusing on Magnus-he already was going to be made to be a king. In one of his dreams in TLBOW, Magnus dreamt of ruling a ruined world. Those chains on his arms from the thorn were there, too.

In The Red Scrolls of Magic while Asmodeus was info-dumping on us, he mentioned the eldest curses were "meant for thrones of iron." Which was so random. Why specify iron? We all know it's deadly to faeries, what does he want?

So I looked up what iron is supposed to do in the Shadowhunters Codex because I didn't know if there was anything else it did. Whelp, turns out a nickel-iron alloy called meteoric iron (normally found in meteors) is a good magic conductor, along with most iron being toxic to the fae.

And my mind was spinning. Rushing to check the Bane Chronicles, I looked at what the Hotel Dumort was built of. It actually was demonic metal, but I'd you had enough iron that can conduct magic,

So if Magnus sits on a throne of iron with enough demonic magic in him, it could unlock Lucifer down there.

Another theory that a few people have brought up is Magnus being possessed by a demon. I feel like it would be a demon Asmodeus sent to posses Magnus, not himself, but at least Asmodeus is smart. He has some sort of brain, unlike Belial, who just acts like he does, and then fails.

Last theory is something I'll do another post on because it needs a LOT of research to back it up.

This theory is that the eldest curses are similar to the Nephilim from the Bible.

These Nephilim were the children of fallen angels on earth. Same as the eldest curses. Though these Nephilim were giants, hundreds of feet tall.

But in one of Magnus's many visions, he dreamt he was tall. And this was after sitting on that throne, after ruling his own world.

Again, more research needed, but I think it could explain their power.

Feel free to add your own theories and thoughts! If I missed any canon info that could be helpful also tell me and I'll edit the post so it's included.

#tsc #magnus bane #tessa gray #twp #the wicked powers #the eldest curses #tec #magnus lightwood bane #max lightwood bane #the red scrolls of magic #the lost book of the white #the shadowhunters chronicles #the shadowhunter chronicles

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moth-based-cryptology · 3 years

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Ufc Fighter Albert Dasilva Headcanons

hello, people who still follow me despite the fact i never post cause i’m a mess. how y’all doin? my favorite ufc fighter won the other day so now ✨this is what we’re doing✨. also i originally sent this thought to @we-are-inevitable ‘s ask box so find that post here (hi jac ilysm mwah mwah mwah)

i also wrote a part 2 so find that here !!

also,,,,, this is fairly obvious. but trigger warning for violence/physical fighting, and well as blood and injury. (it’s a rough gig y’all fjdhdb)

i sincerely apologize in advance for what a mess this post is gonna be i just had a monster and i’m hyped up on the win and this is a hyperfixation i don’t get to talk about very often so feel free to ask questions and HERE WE FUCKIN GO

OK SO

albert is just,,,,,, a violent sports guy. always has been, probably always will be.

most forms of recreational fighting, football, hockey, rugby, fuck even soccer if he gets too into it. he’s just a Built Person, and he wicked competitive, and that makes for violent displays of athleticism

I think he was probably a hockey or football guy in high school, but he was also on the wrestling team cause i said so

then after graduation he got really into kickboxing, just to have something to do cause he didn’t have school sports to play and train for all the time

and then one day his coach is like ‘hey. you’re like,,, stupid good at this. you should sign up for competitions, you might make some money.’

he does, in fact, ‘make some money’, cause in straight kickboxing? he’s pretty much unmatched on the regional scene, which is ridiculous cause he didn’t start training his stand up game til he was 18 or 19

then American Top Team (ATT, it’s a really big MMA training camp that had trained a boat load of the top talent in the UFC) approaches him like ‘y’know if you worked on your grappling you could be a really solid mma fighter’

which is HUGE, but obviously albert can’t pick up his entire life and move to florida to train with them, so him and race (this is me, of course race is with al. supportive boyfriend and number one fan alert <3) find gyms willing to work with him based in new york. then he starts signing up for shit.

he sticks with stand up fighting when he can, he likes it more and cause,,,,, well. it’s more entertaining. the higher your entertainment value, the more people watch your fights. the more people watch your fights, the more likely you are to get noticed by big promotions (like the ufc)

he uses his wrestling to keep grapplers on their feet (he’s got like a 90% takedown defense, what an icon) and he picks people apart.

he has a lot of technical skill, but he also is fiery and passionate and scrappy. he gets hit too much for his own good a lot of the time.

he’s super durable. this man can get hit clean over and over and stay on his feet, but that’s not gonna hold up forever. it takes a loss or two in a row to motivate him to change it

and oh boy does he change it

he spends a month in auckland, new zealand at city kickboxing (one of the best kickboxing gyms in the world, and they lean heavily on tactics rather than just charging forward blindly)

he’s straight up a different fighter after that. he’s quick, light on his feet, and avoids punches way easier while also setting up the angles for his own. he gets signed to the ufc 2 fights later.

his first fight is short notice. no training camp, he’s got 5 days to make weight, AND it’s against a top 10 ranked opponent. no big deal, right?

and albert, being albert, is super chill about it. sure, this is the opportunity of a lifetime, could decide his entire future as a fighter, and he’s barely got time to prepare.

but he’s in the gym every single day of the week, he doesn’t super cut on weight like most ex-wrestlers, and most importantly, it’s just fighting. all he has to do is get in the octagon and punch some dude in the face. he can do that all day.

race on the other hand,,,,,,,,

he believes in albert with his whole soul, he really does, but Fuck watching your boyfriend get hit in the head is no fucking fun. especially when you know that the guy throwing the punches has been training for months, and your guy hasn’t even had a week

so he brings jack for moral support. also cause jack is DEFINITELY a ufc fan and was the only one that would understand what was happening.

at some point in the first round albert gets caught clean, opening a cut on his cheek, which makes race Panic Even More

but he gets cleaned up between rounds, and it’s not swelling so he can still see, and it’s over by the middle of the second.

and albert wins, cause (this is fiction and i’m telling a story) of fucking course he does, and he probably wins with some stupid dramatic spinning back kick and gets clipped on twitter cause he’s just Like That

the part that makes me, as the ralbert shipper, super fucking happy is coming up but i need to add a lil real talk first

considering albert is like,,,, openly in a relationship with a man when he gets into the ufc,,,,, that makes him the first publicly gay ufc fighter. like,,,, ever.

this is realized after his hand gets raised after the ref calls the stoppage.

bruce buffer makes the official announcement, al gets his hand raised, he gets interviewed by joe rogan, and then his coaches, jack and race get to come into the cage

at first everyone things it’s a best friend or something, especially after the dap up bro hug things he gives his coaches and jack

but then albert sees race, and you can watch this boy’s face light up on the camera. then race throws his arms around albert’s neck and albert half lifts him off the ground in a hug around his waist and ok, sure, that’s not the most platonic thing you’ve ever seen, but that doesn’t prove anything

and then albert kisses race. like full, actual, on the mouth in front of all the cameras kiss. cause he doesn’t give a shit.

and nobody’s talking about his spinning back kick anymore, cause Holy Shit That Wasn’t Very Straight Of You Dasilva

but he doesn’t address it, cause every other fighter gets to kiss their wife or girlfriend or whatever in the cage after they win and nobody bats an eye, so why should it be any different for him and his boyfriend?

also, because it needs to be said, statistically there are ALREADY lgbtq+ male fighters in the ufc. like currently, in real life. they’re just not out publicly. the ufc has openly supported queer people’s rights in the past, and is partnered with 4 prominent HIV/AIDS awareness organizations. there is multiple openly queer women currently fighting in the ufc, including amanda nunes, who has been repeatedly called the greatest women’s fighter of all time. but as of right now, there is no openly mlm ufc fighters, so that would technically make albert the first. we love a trend setter. now back to what i’m supposed to be talking about djdhdbd

and eventually interviewers and fans on twitter realize that they’re only going to get one answer to vague questions about sexuality, which is “i’m dating a man and i fight people for a living. if that makes me a revolutionary, so be it bro.”

he includes race in a lot of his answers, especially in interviews where they ask more personal questions or grill him on his mental game, cause he loves race and thinks he deserves credit for everything he does to make al a better person and a better fighter

also, purely for my own entertainment, i think after he becomes champion (cause of course he does) he goes on the joe rogan podcast, and joe is pretty much the only one who gets albert to talk about any of it in a genuine way

he doesn’t get sarcasm or a blunt “can we talk about fighting, now?” like everyone else, he gets a real answer, cause that’s what albert came on to do anyway

he talks about getting together in highschool, and how it was race’s idea for him to start kickboxing in the first place, and what a fucking genius race is and how he’s getting his PhD right now, and how he didn’t want to talk about it cause he didn’t want to be the “gay fighter”, and how that’s a trivialization of his relationship with race and he refuses to let it be seen as anything but what it is, which is the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to him

just. Ugh. them <3

THIS POST IS SO LONG HOLY SHIT DHDHDHDH

anyway-

y e a h. albert dasilva would rock anyone’s shit. if i keep having thoughts about this i’ll make one about him becoming champion. thank you for your time ✨

also gonna tag @soaps-posts cause the brainrot is powerful so here you are my dear <3

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