#it felt kind of like he was telling her a bedtime story which is really cute :’) also he was doing voices in the CN dub which was also cute | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marvelseries19 · 1 year

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SURPRISE!

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x GN!reader

Genre: Fluff/Comfort

Summary: Based on this request. A relaxing day with your girlfriend ends up with a surprise.

A/N: Here it is finally. I kind of rushed it a bit just to make sure it came out before I start with tests and stuff so, if there's any mistake on pronouns or something please let me know so I can edit it, also is the first time I have written for a gender neutral character so, have that in mind. Please enjoy.

Warnings: None that I'm aware of.

Word count: 1085

[You don't have permission to repost or translate any of my stories or claim them as yours]

(This picture is from Pinterest)

You loved your job.

It was the one change you had to leave the environment you were born in and actually do something that mattered in your eyes. But, you were also tired, everyone was. Fury had the team working nonstop for weeks now and finally, he grew a conscience and gave you a week off.

This brings you to now, laying on the couch with your girlfriend on top of you. She had a thing for resting her head on your chest, her ear being directly on top of your heart and you absolutely loved it. It gave you the perfect opportunity to thread your fingers through her hair.

Moments like this made you love the fact that you kept your apartment away from the compound. You loved your found family but, they could be a lot, especially after weeks of being almost attached to the hip, and the added privacy was a plus.

You had been dating for a few months now and you felt that you had met your whole life, and to be honest with the way you two acted with each other, the others thought so too. It only took a look before you both climbed into your car and went to your apartment.

You and Wanda had a simple plan.

Order takeout, put on some sitcoms, and then just cuddle until bedtime. It was the perfect plan for two introverts such as yourselves and it was doing wonders for both of your moods.

That was until Wanda’s phone started ringing. “Nooooo,” You said, hugging her, preventing her from reaching for it.

“Baby, at least let me see who it is,” She said, to which you let her just take a pick at her screen. Once she saw who it was she realized she really needed to answer it. “Honey, I need to answer that. It’ll just be a minute, I promise”

You huffed “Fine, but I’ll be waiting, I still haven’t reached my cuddles quota” The witch nodded and got up from you leaving a short peck on your lips.

Unbeknownst to you, weeks ago Wanda had been looking to adopt a puppy for you, you had talked about it for a while having been told that it could help to maintain your anxiety at bay and secretly because you and Wanda didn’t have a chance to have one when you were little so, all in all, it was a win-win to get you one in the brunette’s eyes.

The call was about the lady at the adoption center telling her that she was parked outside with the puppy. As it turns out, Wanda had forgotten all about it since it had been a few very hectic weeks and her mind was on the missions. She just hoped you would enjoy the surprise.

“Okay so… I have a surprise for you,” Your girlfriend said, going into the living room again.

"A surprise?" You replied confused, "Wait… did I forget something?" You got up in an instant at the thought of forgetting an important event.

"No, no, no. It's just something I wanted to do for you for a while and it’s finally here” She grabbed your keys from the coffee table where you had tossed them when you arrived. You gave her a confused look but ultimately decided to just let her be and eventually find out what this was all about. “I’ll be right back, baby” She gave you another peck and left the apartment.

A few minutes passed and you were starting to get nervous, debating whether you should go find her or not but before you could make any decision you heard the giggle of the keys.

You watched intently toward the front door waiting to find out what she was doing and what the surprise was. Wanda walked in with her back turned to you, which you assume it’s to hide her hands and whatever she was holding.

“Okay, I need you to close your eyes,” She said, looking at you from over her shoulder. You did as she said and patiently waited for whatever she meant to do. You heard her quiet steps getting closer and right before she was able to tell you to open your eyes you heard a cute little bark. You immediately opened your eyes at the intrusion to be face to face with a black and white husky puppy, looking at you with its big blue eyes.

“I guess someone was excited to meet you,” Wanda said petting the puppy’s head. “This is Atlas… your new companion”

“You got me a puppy?” You were still shocked, never expecting Wanda to actually get you one.

“Yeah… I hope that’s okay,” She shifted her weight on her leg. “It’s just… you told me you had been thinking about getting one and then I read about dogs being really helpful with stress and stuff,”

You were seriously about to cry right now, no one in your life had ever put that much attention to you, they were just loose comments on a few conversations that you thought no one was paying attention and Wanda actually thinking about the positive impact that a pet could have on you were just one of many signs that she loved you and were having troubles expressing her much this meant to you.

“I love this… I don’t what to say” You ran to her and buried your face in her neck, being aware of little Atlas in between you.

“Oh honey, you don’t have to say anything” Her free hand was gently caressing the back of your neck.

“I love you, Wanda,” You said under your breath, if you had been farther away she wouldn’t have been able to hear it. It was the first time you said it, any of you. You both clearly felt it but neither of you really said it, you just showed it with actions.

“I love you too, Y/N”

You both relished the newly said words, feeling the ease of it all. Petting Atlas and playing with him, making a list of the things you were going to have to get for him. It was the warmest place you had ever felt, this was home, this was everything you needed and had never even thought of, and more and all thanks to the young witch that held your heart.

Every day that passed you were becoming more sure about Wanda being your soulmate and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

#wanda maximoff #scarletwitch #wanda maximoff imagine #scarletwitch imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #scarletwitch x reader #wanda maximoff x you #scarletwitch x you #wanda maximoff x reader fluff #scarletwitch x reader fluff #marvel #mcu #reader insert

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kuroneko1815 · 10 months

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Storytime at the Palace Part 3

Welcome to the currently last part of El’s bedtime stories because @eloise175 finally and quite literally fell asleep in the middle of this which was the point so I consider it a success.

Callisto watched the children with a fond smile. They were in the Library today. The children having tracked them down after their classes to where he and Penelope had retired for a break before dinner.

“When did you know that Mother was the one?” Eden asked, her wide red eyes looked up at him with that twinkle in her eyes. His heart melted at the sight. He was never one to really deny their children anything that wasn’t dangerous to them. And there was no harm in telling stories. (There was but he didn’t know it yet.)

“When did I know your mother was the one, you ask?” He paused as he thought it through. His mind going to every event from the early days of his acquaintance with the Princess to the one that truly changed things and engraved her within his heart, if she wasn’t there already. “There was an incident on an island that has now ceased to exist because of your mother. And this is the story of how it came to pass.”

His wife groaned as she immediately realized which story it was. He fetched an old map and brought it out, pointing to the one island that they immediately realized hadn’t been on any of the old ones. “Your mother was out with Marquis Verdandi distributing bread because she’s a charitable and kind woman. While the Marquis was distracted she decided to watch over the village children who were all mana wielders. During a moment of distraction, the children were kidnapped by the cultists and your mother fought valiantly to try and save them. When that failed, she and the Marquis went off in pursuit and traced them all the way to Soleil where they became separated.”

Dante leaned in closer, his eyes showing both curiosity at the possibility of his Mother fighting, and worry at the thought of his beloved Mother fighting. “Though fearful, your Mother rose to the occasion and fought the monsters that appeared. Coincidentally, I was at a meeting about an invasion of Soleil when I realized that your mother was there and rushed out to try and protect her.” He remembered Cedric drawing attention to that red dot that was the Princess, the two seconds it took him to realize what it was, or rather who it was, and the mad dash as he rushed to the mages, threatening them to take him to Soleil. It was a miracle he had been able to get to her so fast. But he could never forget the way his heart pounded, the painful squeeze of worry and fear.

“I got there just as your mother was faced with the largest and most fierce monster she’d yet to fight and slew it for her. At that point, we encountered the Marquis and decided to head off together in search of the children.” In hindsight, it was clear that Winston was Marquis Verdandi. There was a stamp of jealousy in his heart when he realized that the Princess was there with another man, not to mention the anger he felt at the man who’d brought someone as sheltered as her to such a dangerous place. Because she may have magic, powerful magic at that, but she was also clearly unused to using magic. The doubts in her head, the fear of rejection and the worry that he’d be suspicious of her and doubt her as the foolish Marquis so clearly had, it was all there for him to see.

“We came upon a most horrific sight, the Leila was devouring the essence of the mages with a single kiss.” He laughed as he saw his children gasp in shock and disgust. His Darling Wife chided him softly about keeping that part in and traumatizing them.

“When she had recouped her strength, she had then brought out the shards of the mirror of truth.”

Judy whispers softly from where she sat. “I destroyed that when I was really little, like three or something.” Callisto nodded with a smile. That damned mirror that showed him all of Penelope’s deaths, that had tried to take her away from them for the last time before she managed to kill her other body to seal her fate here.

“The Imperial Mage Raon, who was still very much a child at that time, was on the verge of being brainwashed when the Marquis attacked, revealing himself. I couldn’t let him face them alone and while we fought, your Mother moved to sneak around and take him while everyone was distracted. Unfortunately, the Leila was still able to notice her using its vile demonic ways. And they unleashed a truly terrifying monster.”

Just like before, the children clung to one another in worry as they looked towards their Mother to reassure themselves that she was alright. Strange that it was always their Mother they worried over and never him, but then again, he worried about them all constantly as well. “Your Mother used magic to destroy it as well, causing irreparable destruction to the island’s surface. Before she could deliver the final blow however, the Leila fled in fear. And we were left on a sinking island. I had the Marquis take the rest of the children while I stayed behind to get to where your Mother had been trapped.”

Then he remembered the feeling of seeing her unleash that blast of magic, the heat that flooded him seeing her so cocky as she taunted the remainder of the cultists with her false bravado. She was so enticing and had things not been pressing, he couldn’t guarantee that he would’ve stopped at a kiss if he’d had the chance. “But I remember thinking in that moment that there was no woman more perfect for me then she was.” He told them, voice a bit distant and wistful.

He snapped out of it. “Anyway, together, we fled for our lives, Raon on my shoulder as your Mother tried desperately to remember the teleportation spell. Luckily, the little mage woke and managed to get us out of the island but he thrust us into the heart of the sea. Your Mother’s clothing weighing her down made it hard for her to get to the surface so I held on to her and gave her a kiss to give her some air.” He coughed as he remembered that moment, their first kiss was Penelope either unconscious or on her way there.

“And I was greatly relieved when she woke a little shaken and wet but no worse for wear. When it was time to return to the Palace, we said our farewells and she begged me to get my arm checked from the injury a monster had dealt me. I rewarded her with a kiss and the way she looked under the moonlight, blushing and surprised, was so beautiful that I knew she was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.” He remembered the way she looked under the moonlight, her dress wet and hair let loose. Wide eyes filled with worry that was conveyed in her words as she begged him to get someone to take a look at his wounds. It was music to his ears and he’d turned back and given in, kissing her once again before he disappeared. Relishing the flustered, wide eyed look, illuminated by the golden light of the magic and the silver of the moon. She looked so pretty and cute like a bunny.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about her from that moment, when she used to enter my mind once an hour it became an occurrence that happened every moment waking or sleeping. Every little thing reminded me of her.” That was why he’d spoiled her with presents, why he gave that proposal that even he had to admit was awful. All of them were in hindsight. A marriage of convenience, trying to trick her into a wedding, the garbage area, even the one in the cave because Penelope was in no fit state to have been wandering around and going through those attacks while pregnant. But regardless, he knew then that he wanted to be with her, that she was the one. Even if he denied her feelings.

He decided that this was a good end to the story and finished it with his customary life advice. “So the moral of the lesson here is, if you want a kiss some pyromania and public destruction or full on island sinking is the way to go.”

Judith’s first kiss happens when she’s eighteen, an island sinking behind her. Eden’s happens after she sets fire to an effigy to her Father’s step mother. Both girls also took one other advice from their father to heart. The very same one that he immediately back tracked on. “You could make like your mother, get drunk at a party and get touchy, actually no, forget about that part.” Both daughters do get pregnant under the influence of alcohol and neither regret it. Callisto ends up wallowing in misery even if he admits to himself that he wouldn’t have done anything differently when it came to having Judith then, in fact, if he could go back in time, he’d probably try to have her during the hunting festival.

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foreveranevilregal · 6 months

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Encantober Day 25: Quiet

Dolores loved the quiet.

She loved when everything was silent, and she could hear her own heartbeat. When the hustle and bustle of daily life would die down and stillness would reign over all, like a blanket of rest draped over their town. Once the sounds of everyday life would cease, her mind would clear and she could just stay in the respite, away from the noises assaulting her for most of her waking hours. Just perfect calm quiet; the backdrop to which Dolores would journal.

She was as thrilled as the rest of the family when Antonio had gotten his gift. But…she could have done without the fireworks. The explosions felt like they were ripping her chest apart. And the booming music- as much as she loved to dance, she preferred quieter, more unassuming pieces that took the time to build their beauty as opposed to this party fare. After a few obligatory dances, she retreated to the back of the crowd, hanging out with her tía Julieta who also wasn’t a big party person.

Finally, the party wound down. Guests trickled out in small groups, heading home. Dolores assumed some would continue the party, but as long as it wasn’t right next to her eardrums, it was all right by her. She helped pick up the dirty dishes and cups strewn about by the partygoers and placed them in the kitchen gingerly, careful not to knock them against one another to create that ringing sound that echoed for a small eternity. Feeling tired, she excused herself and retired to her bedroom. Her refuge, her haven, in which Casita had mercifully dampened the noise levels to be more tolerable.

As she wrote in her journal, her ears wandered unconsciously. She could hear her tía and tío in the kitchen, washing the dishes. Crashing ensued, followed by a soft tinkling noise that could only mean broken glass.

“Ay, Agustín…” tía Julieta murmured, exasperated. “How many times must I tell you to leave the dishes be? I’ll take care of them.”

“Well what am I supposed to do then?” Tío Agustín asked, making a small humming sound as if something was blocking his mouth. Then a smacking sound like lips leaving skin…Nope. Nope nope nope. Dolores shuddered.

“You go say good night to the girls.” Tía Julieta set down the plate she had presumably been washing. “And check on Mirabel, will you? I’m worried about her…” Her voice trailed off. “That whole thing with the cracks in the floor…maybe we’re putting too much pressure on her?” Her voice lilted upwards uncertainly. “Maybe she’s the one cracking, mi amor.”

“Of course.” A softer kiss, probably on her tía’s cheek. “I’ll check on the girls. You take care of these dishes. And then I’ll take care of you.”

Dolores didn’t need superhuman vision to know her tía was blushing. “Ay, Agustín…” she purred.

And Dolores had heard enough. She really didn’t need to know any more about her tío and tía’s love life. She was so grateful that Casita had somehow soundproofed their room completely. There were some thing Dolores simply did not need to hear.

But the part about Mirabel was interesting…was she really that upset as to make up a story about seeing cracks in the floor? Could her abuela possibly be right about Mirabel being jealous? Mirabel really didn’t strike her as the jealous type, but no one else had seen the cracks. Maybe there was something there…

Dolores wrapped up her entry and closed her journal. She could hear the other members of her family beginning to wind down as well; changing into sleep clothes, washing up, doing everything they needed to do before bed. Her papá sang a cheerful tune as he showered. Dolores giggled. He was so cheesy, but she loved him. He just made life more fun.

Right next door, Camilo was putting on some kind of performance. She figured he was playing all the characters, changing into each one as needed since she heard a variety of voices coming from his room. He was very creative, but Dolores hoped he’d keep it down soon as it was Antonio’s bedtime.

Down the hall, Antonio didn’t seem overly concerned about bedtime. He was laughing, the sound distorted as he moved through the room. Was he running? Riding the jaguar again? Carried by a toucan through the air? Who knew? Either way, through the cacophony of animal calls, she could hear him whooping and asking questions. He was halfway through naming all the animals when Dolores decided she couldn’t stand the din anymore and shifted her attention elsewhere.

Across from them, Luisa set down her weights with a thud. How she had the discipline to do her exercises every night, Dolores had no idea. It was honestly admirable. She heard the sheets rustle as Luisa got into bed and a muted creak as she opened a hardcover book. She’d seen her mamá talking to Luisa a few days ago and mamá had lent Luisa a book. Probably one of the romance novels she and Dolores were so fond of. Dolores heard the pages flutter as Luisa read onward in silence, broken only by a sharp gasp or a dreamy sigh. Deep down, Luisa was a hopeless romantic too, just like the two of them. Dolores really hoped she found someone special.

To one side of Luisa’s room, Dolores heard muffled crying. She wasn’t sure who it was; it wasn’t a cry she had heard before. But then she heard the slithering of vines and scraping of a leaf against skin as Isabela presumably wiped her tears on one of her plants.

“I’m going to marry Mariano,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I can’t believe it.”

As if Dolores needed to be reminded. She loved Isabela like a sister, but it hurt her deeply that Isabela would get to marry Mariano, the man she loved, just because she was older. Older! Ha! Isabela wasn’t even a full month older! A matter of a few weeks decided which one of them got a happy ending, and which one a broken heart. Dolores was seething. As she heard the sound of Isabela’s hairbrush gliding through her hair, Dolores hoped one of the one hundred strokes would yank it all out.

Dolores shook out her head. It wasn’t right for her to be thinking like that. She had been raised to love her family and support them, no matter what. Even if seeing them happy twisted a knife into your own heart…

A different cry broke through; more plaintive, desperate, a series of sniffling sobs. The sound was muted by a pillow, based on the weird low echo that resulted. Who was this?

“I was just trying to warn them,” Mirabel whispered quietly, followed by a hiccup. “I would never ruin Antonio’s night. I’m so happy for him!” It sounded to Dolores like Mirabel was trying to convince herself it was true. “He gets to have a gift. It’s what we all wanted.” It occurred to Dolores that Mirabel was sleeping in the nursery all by herself for the first time in years. “I just wanted to help my family…for once…” A choked back cry was followed by more quiet sobs.

Dolores’ heart broke. Poor Mirabel. She had no idea it was so hard on her. Voices floated through the air, growing louder as their speakers grew closer.

“…making a scene on Antonio’s special night,” her mamá whispered. “It’s not like Mirabel. Why would she act out like that?”

“I don’t know, mi vida, but let’s not worry about it anymore tonight, eh? Let’s just get some rest.” Dolores could hear the fabric of her mamá’s dress moving as her papá rubbed her back soothingly.

“Don’t tell me not to worry,” her mamá grumbled, punctuated by a low roll of thunder.

“I’ll give you a nice massage, and then you’ll forget all about it,” her papá offered.

Her mamá giggled. Their voices grew quieter as they went towards their bedroom. “And then we can…”

Dolores gagged. She heard the words, but her mind blocked out any meaning they had so they were just noises going into one ear and out the other. She was especially grateful their room was soundproofed too.

Instead, she let her ears wander back down towards the kitchen again. She had left some food out for Bruno, hoping her tía wouldn’t notice the “accidentally” forgotten food that no one had cleaned up. The scurrying of the rats told her it had found its intended recipient.

“Mm, this is good,” Bruno mumbled around a mouthful of food. “Not sure who keeps leaving food out for me, but thanks!”

Dolores smiled. You’re welcome, tío, she thought. She waited patiently for him to finish eating, but her attention was drawn by another unexpected sound.

A door across the hall creaked open. The sound of tiny footprints pitter-pattering across the wooden floor, stopping when another door creaked open.

“Mirabel?” Antonio’s voice called out unsurely.

“Mm, what is it, Antonio?” Dolores heard the hoarseness in Mirabel’s voice that she was undoubtedly trying to pass off as being awoken from sleep, based on the extremely fake yawn she gave, but that really stemmed from her crying.

“I can’t sleep. My new room is really big and the animals won’t leave me alone. Can I stay with you tonight?”

“Come here.” Dolores heard the rustling of sheets and creaking of the mattress as Mirabel made room for him on the bed.

Antonio climbed in, humming contentedly. “Thanks, Mirabel.” His voice was slightly muffled. He was probably snuggling up into Mirabel.

“You got it, kid.” Mirabel tucked the blanket around them. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Dolores was touched by the moment. But just as she was about to wipe a tear of her own from her eye, she heard a loud scraping echoing from down below. Moving furniture. Which could only mean…

“Yes!” Dolores cried out quietly. Tío Bruno was performing another installment of his latest play (she had heard him refer to it as a telenovela, though she didn’t know why, since as far as she knew, novelas came in books). She snuggled in under her blanket, beaming from ear to ear as the action began.

It picked up right where it had left off the last time, with José and María about to kiss, when smoke billowed and José cried out in surprise.

“Carmen!” He recoiled, jumping back. “You look just like María! But how-“

“I have my methods,” she answered slyly. Dolores squeaked. She could hear the sound of footsteps, no doubt Carmen walking around José. Carmen thought she was so clever, but Dolores knew she’d probably bought a potion from the witch featured in the last installment.

“It was that witch, who was traveling through town! She helped you change your appearance,” José deduced.

Dolores muffled her triumphant cry with her pillow. Called it!

“Aren’t you smart?” Carmen crooned, her hand trailing along José’s stubble. “If only you were smart enough not to fall for it.”

“But I didn’t fall for it!” He protested.

“Oh no?” Carmen let out a delicate cackle. “I’m not sure María would agree.”

Dolores’ stomach sank. What had Carmen done to María?

“María?” José spun around wildly. “Where is she?”

“How could you?” María’s voice echoed hollowly around them. “I loved you.”

That past tense hit Dolores in the gut like a load of bricks. She had really been rooting for those two to end up together.

“Where are you keeping her, you-“

“Now, now. Let’s not do anything you’ll regret. Otherwise, poor María might pay the price.”

Dolores’ eyes widened in shock. Carmen wouldn’t hurt María…would she?

José growled in frustration. His hands must have closed around Carmen’s neck because Dolores could hear a strangled gagging. “Tell me where you’re keeping her!” He demanded.

“I’ll tell you, but first you have to do something for me.”

“What is it?” He sounded curious.

Dolores was curious too. What did Carmen want him to do?

“And scene!” Bruno called out dramatically.

Rats chittered around him.

“I know, but we have to save something for next time,” Bruno explained.

Dolores let out a frustrated exhale. How could she sleep now? Not knowing what would happen would keep her up all night!

“Besides, I haven’t come up with what’ll happen next yet,” Bruno said under his breath.

That was a more reasonable explanation. She really hoped he’d come up with it soon.

She tossed from side to side, trying to find a comfortable sleeping position. Today had been long and tiring. It seemed like all the other inhabitants of the house were able to fall asleep. Even Bruno, the perpetual night owl, was snoring away in the walls.

At last, it was silent. Dolores could hear her heart thumping in her chest. She could hear the floors creaking (Casita had done much weirder things, she didn’t worry about a little creaking). She could hear, as always, the rats running freely through the house, no doubt collecting more food for tío Bruno. She could hear…an eye twitch? She focused in on the sound. It was coming from Luisa’s room. Luisa’s eye only twitched when she was nervous about something. What was she nervous about?

Dolores listened intently to make out the garbled mumbles Luisa let out in her sleep. “Cracks…floor…magic…weak…” With a grunt, she flopped over and fell silent.

Dolores frowned. Luisa was worried about the magic? First it was Mirabel, now Luisa. Could there actually be something to worry about?

Her abuela’s voice drifted in through the window. She was praying to abuelo Pedro, holding the candle. Dolores could hear the wax dripping onto the small plate that held the candle. It sounded like she was worried too…

And now the rats scurried by, sounding even more agitated.

Groaning, Dolores shoved her pillow over her head. She just wanted it all to stop.

Dolores loved the quiet.

If only she could ever experience it.

#dolores madrigal #mirabel madrigal #bruno madrigal #antonio madrigal #luisa madrigal #pepa madrigal #felix madrigal #julieta madrigal #agustin madrigal #alma madrigal #isabela madrigal #camilo madrigal #encantober #encantober 2023 #quiet #foreveranevilregal writes #writing encanto #i'm actually really proud of this one

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razorblade180 · 1 month

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Are there any OC ideas you have that didn't make the cut for any of the stories you've written or are planning to right? Like you want to write about the but due to the way the story's gone they just wouldn't fit.

There’s a lot actually and I’m glad someone asked. This will be long.

The scope of Rosebud got away from me really fast and then life happened. I still want to make a proper story. That’s why the one before it is called Rosebud Prep. This AU has the most cut stuff and spur of the moment additions. For example

I had an OC named Walter. He would’ve been the divorced kid of Neptune and Weiss; also he’s 14 and pretty strong due to both his parents having hereditary semblance. Essentially he still follows normal glyph rules, but when it comes to water and ice he doesn’t need Dust. I made a water bender.

Another OC in that au would be girl on Menagerie that was close with Kovu. She would be a Crosshares kid. Additionally, I wanted to write more about Carmine’s normal school experience since she does go to a regular public school but it never really seemed to fit. In a sense, she’s like a casual superhero who will show up late because she decided to stop a robbery.

Another thing I will actually circle back to but just haven’t yet is why is Carmine bad at school terrible with maps, doesn’t drive, and would rather tell Garnet a bedtime story than read one. Carmine is dyslexic and simply refuses to tell her friends because she finds it incredibly frustrating and embarrassing. Jaune knows and though she made him promise to tell nobody, he obviously told Ruby. Ruby doesn’t bring it up because she was the number one person Carmine didn’t want to know. Jaune helps her when he can but the girl is barely home and prioritizes other things.

I wanted to write a short story of Dustin growing up under Cinder and Neo but that seemed needlessly depressing and better left as moments to learn in the main story.

xxxxx

I think I’ve mentioned this before but originally I messed around with Valerie’s internal conflict stemming from the idea she wasn’t sure if she felt like a girl. But after a lot of reading and videos I decided I most likely wouldn’t be able to write such a topic with the necessary amount of care to the standard I would be okay with. It’s a touchy subject and I felt ill equipped.

Another idea I want to write is a Snowflakes sequel where the crew is on summer break and find themselves on a voyage to Vacou. It would explore the new dynamics the group have after Atlas and focus more on Veronica’s mental state and an b-plot with Eliza learning more about her mother.

xxxxx

For those interested in Lasting Embers, the sequel I’ve been actively posting lately has given two more OCs recently named Lilith and Marcus. Lilith was actually brought up in the original story and Marcus as an idea has been around just as long. Feels great to finally realize them.

I actually wanted to do more meaningful things with Yang and Adam during their mission but time constraints got in the way. Other than that I’ve mainly been able to set up a lot of what I want.

In the original story however, instead of Jael fighting those cult members in the desert, I had Adam come home already and the two of them went into town because she wanted to see the festival with him. Eventually she’d go off to get food and notice suspicious behavior; which leads into the cult fight and ends with her own the ropes before Adam shows up. It would be the first time she really sees how dangerous her father could be. I ultimately changed things because I wanted to introduce her older sister as well as keep the idea of Jael hearing/reading about who her father used to be but only seeing the kind dad he is now.

xxxxx

Premonition is more or less the same. I have an outline for a proper story that’s smaller scale than the others and more slice of life vibe. It’s mainly about Lucas and Serenity meeting and what happens when their unique situations of future and fate collide. I did want to do more random prompts but most of them are pretty redundant despite being cute.

I’m sure there’s more stuff I could add to this post but I’m blanking right now.

#rwby #rwby au #ask me stuff

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ronaldofandom · 1 year

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A Fairy Tale

A short drabble on Bheem, Malli and Jenny.

No warnings. Pure fluff, and the title is self-explanatory :)

Written in 90 mins as a stress buster since work has been kicking my butt!!

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The day was long. And harsh. Bheem felt drained of all energy. Every ounce of his body just wanted to crash and rest and not deal with the things that he had to deal with today. The only respite was that he was walking back home. Where she would be waiting for him. She probably hadn’t eaten also. He had asked her many times to not wait up for him when he was getting late, but she had told him she liked doing that.

He could hear her voice from outside - sweet, serene and so melodious.

She had left the door open for him. And when he entered, the sight was even sweeter. Jenny was telling a bedtime story to Malli. The kid looked so happy and peaceful - her head in Jenny’s lap, her eyes closed, hanging on to every word. Jenny’s bedtime stories were in English. Still, Malli had started picking up a few words in Delhi and more from Jenny’s classes in the last six weeks in Adilabad.

The love of his life noticed his presence then, and gave him a dazzling smile. It lit up his world every time, and tonight was no different.

‘Five minutes please.’

She mouthed to him slowly, and he nodded at her.

Malli had complained to Bheem passionately that he had been hogging all the time of her friend. Jenny had been her friend first. Not his. And that it was grossly unfair.

Both Bheem and Jenny had felt guilty about it and promised to rectify it. Since then, Jenny had been actively taking time out of her day to play with Malli, do activities with her and also tell bedtime stories to her.

She had already told three stories tonight, but the kid kept insisting on more. Malli loved the descriptions of beautiful princesses in faraway lands - far beyond her imagination - across wide seas. She had never seen the sea before in her life, but it sounded so fascinating. And she was obsessed with fairy tales.

‘Okay, I will tell one more, but it will be the last one. Promise?’

The girl nodded happily and closed her eyes again as Jenny stroked her hair. The puppy eyes worked every-time on Jenny, and Malli had realized that long back.

‘This one is called - The Princess who never smiled.’

‘Long ago, there lived a princess who never smiled or laughed. Not the kind of smile that reached her eyes anyways. It was plastic, platonic - she didn’t know what true happiness, laughter, and contentment really meant.’

Malli adjusted her head in her lap, turning her face towards her waist to hide from the light coming from the nearby lamp. Bheem was freshening up in the adjoining chamber.

‘Meanwhile, an honest common man lived across the town. He used to work as a labourer for a merchant. He worked sincerely, tirelessly, all year, every year. At the end of every year, the master offered him a sack full of money, asking him to take however much he desired. But he only picked one coin. Every year.’

‘Aisa kyu?’ (But why?)

Malli asked curiously. She was confused - when the man could have so much more, why did he settle for less?

Bheem had changed into his night clothes by then - which were essentially his pajamas. He liked to sleep bare-chested, which Jenny had learned soon after coming to Adilabad. Not that she was complaining, far from it.

He sat next to where Jenny was sitting on the cot, linking his arm with hers. Her other hand kept stroking Malli’s hair. Jenny looked deep into his eyes as she responded to Malli’s question.

‘Because the man was simple, honest and content. He had a small little world, far away from the town, deep into the woods, and he didn’t need much else from life. One coin was enough to meet his family’s basic needs. He didn’t want to take more than he needed. Greed was a sin for him. He didn’t want to take advantage of the merchant’s fondness for him.’

Bheem noticed how her sweet smile had turned into a look of deep admiration and affection. He kissed her forehead, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

‘He was also a proud man, you see. He didn’t want to take more than he deserved. He didn’t want to take any charity from others, even from people close to him. His principles, morals, ethics and beliefs were sacrosanct to him. It would have broken him if he ever had to compromise on those, unless he was compelled to do that for his family, his people.’

Malli nodded in understanding. She liked the man already. Maybe he was a little too idealistic - in his shoes, Malli may have taken at least a couple of coins. But the man’s honesty seemed sweetly charming. And very familiar also, for some reason.

‘What happened then? Did he ever meet the princess?’

She really, really wanted them to meet. Something told her they would complete each other.

‘She always kept looking for different experiences hoping that something would click someday that would make her truly content. One day, the princess was roaming the local bazaar. She had asked her bodyguards to wait at a distance - their constant presence everywhere was a big source of irritation for her.’

Bheem intertwined his hand in hers, keeping their joined hands in his lap, as his head nuzzled hers slowly.

‘That’s where she saw him for the first time. He didn’t venture away from his house in the woods, unless he absolutely needed to. But that day, he had some urgent business to attend to. It was fate that brought them both to the same place, she knew that in her heart the moment she saw him.’

Jenny looked up at Bheem then. Her eyes turned slightly moist. It didn’t distress Bheem because he sensed it was coming from a place of love.

‘Aage kya hua?’ (What happened then?)

His hand moved into her open hair, brushing them with his fingers. She sighed blissfully.

‘The princess smiled then. This one reached her eyes, her heart, her soul. They talked that day, and then they met again, and talked some more. Her friends also noticed that she had changed and were happy for her. But she couldn’t get enough of him. Always worrying that he would disappear one day. That he would retreat to his own world, which she didn’t understand and where she may not be welcomed. That he would forget about her.’

Her voice trembled ever so slightly, and he caught it immediately. His hand moved from her hair to her neck and shoulders, rubbing them gently, trying to soothe her.

Malli was far too intrigued now. She had a sinking feeling that something bad was going to happen. Which would make it a horrible bedtime story and she would make Jenny tell her one more, then, despite her protests - there was no way she was going to bed with a broken heart.

‘Did he….forget? Did he…leave?’

Malli asked slowly, trying to find the right words. Jenny’s hand tightened around Bheem’s, and he squeezed back.

‘Well, that’s what she thought. Because he did leave for a while. She thought that was the end of her short fairy tale. And she would have to return to a world full of fakeness, pretense, and manipulation. But it was fate which brought them together again.’

Malli breathed a sigh of relief. Not realizing that Jenny’s voice had eased too.

‘You see, she didn’t know that he had started to feel the same way about her. She had fallen first, and hard, but he had fallen too. So when fate gave them another chance, they took it with both hands. He held her hand & led her into his world, paving the way for her, looking out for her, keeping her happy, and safe. She had been a princess all her life, by title, but he really made her feel like one. With his love. That’s when she understood what true laughter, true happiness really meant.’

Malli clapped her hands. Both Bheem and Jenny smiled at her antics.

‘But, her family…let her leave?’

‘Well, she eloped. And that was the best decision she ever made in her life.’

Malli clapped again, grinning from ear to ear, her head still buried in Jenny’s lap.

‘Happy ever after then?’

That was something Jenny used to say at the end of many stories. Malli had memorized that line by heart.

Jenny’s eyes turned heavy again. Bheem kissed her palm in response.

‘Y-yes. They lived happily ever after.’

Hopefully. She omitted the last word.

Bheem sensed that something was troubling her heart, and he wanted to kiss away her somber mood immediately. His lips brushed the outline of her jaw, but Jenny jumped at the first touch, gasping in horror and covering his mouth with her palm. Her eyes pointed towards Malli, who was drifting to sleep in her lap.

At least she wasn’t somber now. He will take that as a win. In all honesty, he loved flustering her like this. It was the quickest way to see her all flushed and bothered. It was his favorite look on her.

He pulled her hand away and dove in one more time, tasting her lips briefly before she pulled away with more horror.

Malli stirred in her lap from her sudden movement.

‘Bheem, not like this, please.’

She mouthed at him, half pleading, half admonishing.

Malli chose that moment to ask some more questions about the story, almost building a segue to request another story.

Bheem’s patience, though otherwise infinite, ran out then. He lifted Malli in his arms, ignoring her half-hearted protests, carrying her back to her mother’s hut. She had gotten more than her fair share, it was Bheem’s turn now.

By the time he returned, Jenny had set up two plates on the mat and served dinner. And, she had changed into her night clothes too, looking every bit as ravishing as she always did.

The food was tempting, but she was far more tempting to him.

She held his hand and started leading him toward the mat, but he didn’t move.

‘You must be hungry, right? Come, let’s have some.’

Was he hungry? Most definitely. For food? A fair bit. For other things? A helluva lot more.

He would have happily foregone food for now and jumped straightaway to other things. But she hadn’t eaten either, and he couldn’t have that. And he won’t want the food to go to waste, either. So he would eat first and do do other things after that, but he would get his dessert without further ado.

She tugged at his hand again, and he pulled her back, sending her crashing into his chest.

Grabbing the back of her head, he locked his lips onto hers as his hands started to wander. She gasped at the suddenness of it all, and he deepened the kiss further, lifting her slightly off the ground. All his trials from the day seemed to vanish in those few minutes.

He willed himself to stop before the point of no return. Smiling at her disheveled state, he pulled her towards the mat to have their dinner. Bheem couldn’t remember the last time he was this disinterested in food in his life. It was a first, like many others since she came into his world and turned it upside down. And Bheem couldn’t thank his stars enough for every single one of those moments.

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Hope it was remotely coherent :)

As always, would love to know your thoughts!!

@irisesforyoureyes @rambheem-is-real @thewinchestergirl1208 @eremin0109 @eenadu-varthalu @rorapostsbl @yehsahihai @budugu @maraudersbitchesassemble @juhiiiiii @justmeand-myinsight @rambheemisgoated @rosayounan @jrntrtitties @obsessedtoafault @rambheemlove @jjwolfesworld @alikokinav @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @bromance-minus-the-b @dumdaradumdaradum @lovingperfectionwonderland @annieginny @chaanv @ssabriel @sally-for-sally @milla984 @kaagazkefool @boochhaan @mesimpleone @filesbeorganized @ladydarkey @teddybat24 @stanleykubricks @stuckyandlarrystuff @burningsheepcrown @veteran-fanperson @voidsteffy @ronika-writes-stuff @beingmes-blog @yonderghostshistories @nisreenart @chaidrivenwhore @bheemaxrama @carminavulcana @umbrulla @mizutaama @rosefulmadness @gifseafins @fangirlshrewt97

#rrr #bheem #ntr jr #jr ntr #love #tarak #bheem rrr #komuram bheem #rrr fanfic #bheemjenny #jenny #jenny rrr #malli rrr

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currantlee · 2 years

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The Horizon Ever Changes

(Ao3; full list of soundeffects used for the podfic here)

Sometimes, the thing you're most afraid of is yourself - in which case, it is good to have a loved helping you through it.

~ 3.1k Words / 17 Min (Podfic). Rated T (Teens and Older). Angst, Hurt/Comfort. For SoKai Day 2022.

Author's Note: This is a fanfic I already wrote some time ago. Initially, I didn't plan on publishing it since it was kind of conceived as a vent fic, but after a rework, I changed my mind. I also wanted to try something completely new with it too, so... I made a podfic (which you can also listen to on Ao3 or here because turns out Tumblr apparently hates Internet Archive file links 😅). But for those of you who prefer to read - here is the full fic (with some minor differences). Regardless of how you decide to engage with it, I hope you enjoy it.

When Sora was little, his mother would come to his bed every evening and sing a lullaby for him. Sometimes even two, when Sora had been particularly adamant about not wanting to go to bed just yet.

Whenever his father had been home for Sora’s bedtime, he would tell him a story before Sora went to sleep. He had always thought of his father as a great storyteller and looking back, he wished that he could have gotten to enjoy a few more of his father’s stories. The fact that he wouldn’t, seeing as his father had died when Sora was eleven, made him cherish the ones he remembered even more though.

However, there was one thing that had always cradled him to sleep – the roaring of the waves crashing at the shore.

Given that his parents’ house was built partly on stilts at the edge of the beach, he always heard it. Sometimes it was quiet, almost like white noise, but during stormy nights it was so loud that he almost couldn’t sleep.

He had been afraid of those nights as a child. He recalled a few times when the storms were going to be so bad that his parents decided to leave the house before they started, deeming it unsafe, and they spent the night at Riku’s home next to the rice fields on the hill instead. They had always been welcome there, and Sora had always been excited to have a sleepover at his best friend’s house, even under those circumstances.

He was pretty sure that the night of the storm, the night when all of this started, would have been one of those nights – if things hadn’t turned out the way they did.

Nonetheless, the sound of the waves was usually calming to Sora.

… Usually. Because this time, it didn’t work.

Sora sighed heavily. He had thought that maybe coming here would put his heart and mind at ease. It wasn’t that he was scared – or maybe he was, but it didn’t feel like immediate fear or panic. More like he was constantly on the edge, easily startled, and the strain of that was beginning to wear him out.

It had gotten so bad that his body noticed it as well. His muscles were often tense, in and outside of battle. It even felt like his insides were so tense, his stomach sometimes ached from it. He was beginning to find it hard to relax at all.

Sora hugged his legs, gripping the fabric of his pants tightly as he curled up, resting his chin on his knees. At least his hands weren’t shaking yet…

It was obvious. Muscles tensed in the face of danger, and Sora was slowly becoming a danger to his friends, whether he wanted it or not. It was only natural that the fear of himself, a fear he constantly felt, would manifest in this way sooner or later.

A tear rolled down his cheek. He didn’t want this…

“Hey,” Kairi’s distant voice from somewhere to his left said. It was loud and clear, but still gentle.

Sora turned his head away from her on instinct. He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to see him like this. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to see her at all. “Hey,” he murmured regardless of that.

Kairi came closer – only a few steps, seemingly keeping her distance a bit in case he wanted to be left alone. Sora appreciated that, but currently he didn’t really know what he wanted, or if he even wanted to see her at all. Maybe talking would help, but then again, it wasn’t like anyone could really help him…

“Donald and Goofy said you just… Disappeared,” she explained. “Everyone is worried about you. Sora, I am worried about you.”

She sighed. “That’s why I went to look for you.”

“Uh… Thanks?” He appreciated that, even though he still wasn’t sure if he wanted to see her at all.

But then Kairi decided to ask a question that Sora hadn’t known he was dreading yet. After all, he had been asked that same question a lot over the past few weeks, and he should be used to it by now.

“Sora, are you alright?”

He tried to play it off by shrugging. “I…” He didn’t want to bother her, but there was no use in lying to her – she’d pick up on it instantly. Not that Sora was a good liar anyway.

“I’m not okay.”

Kairi sighed again, and Sora couldn’t tell whether it was out of worry or relief because he finally said how he really was. “Do you want to talk about it or do you want me to leave?”

“I don’t know.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. “I’m sorry, Kairi. I don’t know anything anymore…”

He wished he could give her a proper answer, and not just leave her wondering. After all, she was only trying to help. If she got angry or annoyed at him then he would have understood. He had caused her, as well as his other friends, so many worries lately. Considering what he was becoming, this was by far not the end of it.

To Sora’s surprise, Kairi just walked over and sat down next to him on the sand. She didn’t touch or try to talk to him any further. Instead, she simply joined him in watching the horizon in silence.

It was late afternoon on the Destiny Islands. Soon the sun would vanish to somewhere beyond the horizon, painting the sky in glowing warm pinks and oranges and making the sea sparkle. Just like it had shortly before all of this began… Back when they had shared the paopu fruit… and when he had disappeared for the first time.

As beautiful as the sunsets on Destiny Islands were, it scared Sora that they were about to watch another one together. Every time they had done this in the past, they had ended up separated yet again shortly after. This time could be no different, considering what was probably about to happen to him… Maybe this was it. The last time he got to see her before… Whatever changed him would happen. Maybe he should have a look at her before it was too late for that.

Instead of her combat clothes, Kairi was just wearing a simple tank top, which showed off just a little bit of her belly, and some cargo shorts in a muted yet rich shade of green. No shoes either; she was barefooted. He noticed a bit of a rosy nail polish on her toenails, although it was already peeling off.

Her hair had grown to shoulder-length and it was a bit shaggy – getting a haircut wasn’t a priority while trying to save the universe once again. He supposed his own hair needed a cut as well. It was just less obvious due to its wild structure that was completely unlike the smooth texture Kairi’s hair had.

She usually wore it in a messy ponytail these days, but today her hair was hanging loose. It was uneven and untamed as the breeze tousled it even more. Sora liked that look on her. The shorter strands – her bangs had grown out over the past months – framed her face just perfectly.

… She was stunning. Beautiful. Sora found himself wishing he could just be with her like this forever. A futile wish… He found himself sighing once again.

Maybe he could at least remember her like this.

“Something on your mind?”

“Huh?”

“You’re staring at me.”

“Wha-… Oh.” He supposed he had been. “It’s just…” Did he want to tell her?

“You look really pretty today…”

She blushed at the unexpected compliment. “Thanks,” she giggled, a bit more quietly than before. She was so cute when she got flustered. “You know, you look pretty handsome yourself.”

He would have blushed too, if it wasn’t for the fact that it just wasn’t true. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better about everything,” he murmured.

“Sora, if there is anything I can do to help then please, talk to me.” She just knew him too well.

He sighed. “It’s just…” Should he really tell her? He didn’t want to bother her with this. Even though they were best friends – more than that, really – at the end of the day this was his problem, and his alone. Sora felt like he shouldn’t drag her into this, especially since he could potentially become a danger for her as well.

The feeling of Kairi’s warm hand on his left interrupted his thoughts. They had become calloused from all the fighting, much like his own, but hers remained fairly smooth regardless. He had absolutely no idea how she kept her hands that way. When her thumb started brushing across the back of his hand lightly, his fingers curled around hers by instinct.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s on your mind if you don’t want to,” Kairi whispered.

But he could tell her everything, Sora knew that. Besides, maybe she could help him… Or at least take his mind off this for a while.

“I want to remember you like this, when I eventually…”

He couldn’t even say it. But Kairi knew what he meant anyway.

“Is this about what the Master of Masters did to you?”

Sora felt a lump in his throat. He wanted to cry like a scared child at the mere mention of it, something that robbed him of his voice almost entirely. If he had tried to speak, the only sound he would have been able to make was a sob.

So he simply nodded – and sobbed anyway. It was just too much.

Kairi sighed. “Hey…” She ran her hand up his arm. “Sora, it’s going to be al-…”

“You know it won’t!”, he interrupted her. The Master of Masters, if he could even call him that anymore, might be their enemy, but he hadn’t lied to them a single time. At least, not that Sora was aware of. Every single one of his predictions had come true sooner or later, mundane or not.

“No matter what he told you,” Kairi said calmly. She kept caressing his arm, and Sora found himself leaning into her touch. Maybe he shouldn’t. After all, they probably wouldn’t get to enjoy these kinds of things for too long anymore. Better to not get used to it.

And yet, Sora couldn’t resist. He craved her touch, her warmth, and her comfort. He wanted to feel her, to be as close to her as possible.

He forced himself to pull away. He really didn’t want to get her hopes of a future spent together up. But most of all, he didn’t want to break her heart, even if it meant he didn’t get to spend the little time he had left together with her.

“Sora, there are endless possibilities as to what the future could bring. Even the Master of Masters himself said so.”

“Maybe,” Sora retorted. He couldn’t remember him ever saying such a thing – maybe he had just been absent. “But he also said this is the one that is going to happen multiple times, and every time it turned out to be true. Why should this be any different?”

Kairi surely hadn’t forgotten about the incident a few weeks prior, but she didn’t seem to care. Sora finally turned his head so she should be able to see his full face – as a reminder.

“Kairi, I’m losing myself. And I’m sorry…”

He finally felt the first tears streaking down his cheek.

Kairi said nothing. Instead, she brought both of her hands to his face, cupped his cheeks and wiped his tears away, but there were only more to come. She carefully tugged at the band around his head, and whispered very quietly: “May I?”

Sora sobbed. He knew what she meant. No one had seen him without that piece of cloth ever since… The incident, but if he was going to let anyone see him this vulnerable, it would be her.

So he nodded.

Kairi reached to the back of his head. Sora had always enjoyed when she ran her fingers through his hair almost as much as he loved messing with hers. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d done it. It must have been before all of this started, which felt like forever ago. Unfortunately, it ended far too quickly this time when she found the buckle that held the thing up, released it, and the piece of fabric that had covered part of his face for the past weeks, at least as long as he saw anyone, finally dropped.

Sora knew the scar on his face was ugly. He had to stop himself from turning away from her.

The initial wound hadn’t been healed properly. Instead, it had been cauterized with a fire spell, or at least, so Sora had been told by the Master of Masters after waking up again. He himself didn’t really remember, seeing as he had passed out from the pain. Maybe it was better that way.

Kairi’s fingertips gently grazed his right cheek. She was so careful, and Sora wanted nothing more than to lean into her touch, even though he probably should pull away, but he could do neither. He was frozen in place as Kairi moved her hand upwards across the scar on his upper cheek to where his right eye used to be.

His friends had tried to do everything they could with their healing magic after Sora had reunited with them, but seeing as the wound and the burn covering it had already been mostly healed at that point, their options had been extremely limited.

Sora sobbed again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know it’s ugly, you don’t have to look…”

To his surprise, Kairi closed her eyes and leaned in. Sora’s breath hitched when her lips touched the scarred skin on his cheek.

Not even the sensation was the same as it would have been before his eye had been removed. It felt like she was kissing him through a layer of fabric, and slightly prickling at the same time. Not in an unpleasant way, but it still served as another reminder that things were never going to go back to normal again.

The kiss ended, but she stayed close.

[illustration]

Sora didn’t protest when she cupped both of his cheeks with her hands, and carefully rubbed across the scar with her thumb. “Kairi…”

She put a finger on his lips. “You’re not ugly, Sora,” she said quietly, but very matter-of-factly. “Please don’t apologize. This is not your fault…”

“It kinda is,” Sora argued. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. He had to tell someone. He had to tell her.

“Kairi… He and I are the same person.”

There. It was out now.

Sora wouldn’t have blamed her if she left him here and now. Sure, it would break his heart if she did. Who would want to be with someone who caused so much pain to the worlds? She deserved better, so much better…

“Is this something he told you?”

“He didn’t have to tell me. I saw it myself.”

“Wait, does this mean you can look into the future too now, or…” Kairi tilted her head in confusion.

“He took his hood off after I woke up again, back when… It happened.” Sora didn’t want to talk about it more than he had to. He didn’t want to remember any of it, the fear and the pain. “It was like looking into a mirror.”

His hands were shaking at the memory. This had been the last thing the Master of Masters had done before he had left, telling Sora that his friends would arrive soon. The wait had been agonizing.

Kairi didn’t say anything. Maybe she was processing it, or thinking what to make of it. “Kairi, if you want to leave me, that’s okay,” he said, his voice a bit higher than he wanted it to be. “I’d understand if you don’t want to be wi-…”

“Of course I still want to be with you,” Kairi interrupted him. “Listen, Sora, just because some alternate version of you – if this isn’t a trick – is running around terrorizing the worlds doesn’t mean you and him are the same. I know you aren’t, because you’re right here in front of me, crying your heart out.”

“But I have darkness inside my heart,” Sora whispered. “Which means that…” He couldn’t finish what he was about to say. He could only sob once more. Again, Kairi deserved better – she deserved so much better than he could ever be. Even if he saved all of the worlds over and over again, he could never rid himself of that capability entirely.

“But everyone is capable of doing terrible things,” Kairi argued. “Just as everyone is capable of doing good. Even I am capable of doing bad things, heart of pure light or not.”

“I can’t imagine that,” Sora said. “You doing terrible things, I mean…”

“Just as I can’t imagine you doing evil things.”

Sora sobbed. It was so good to know that she still trusted him like this, despite what he had just told her. “But what if you’re wrong?”

“Then I’d have been wrong about you.” She smiled. “I may be a princess of heart, Sora, but I’m still human. I can be mistaken. Every single one of us can.”

Maybe even the Master of Masters could… But he had been right about everything in the past, and he had never lied to them. “What if he isn’t human, Kairi?”

“You mean the Master of Masters?”

“Mhm.”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, it’s possible, but if he isn’t human, then I’m not sure what to do about him to be honest.”

Neither did Sora. Xehanort had been a pain to deal with, but at least they had always known that they were facing a human being, albeit in various different forms. But with the Master of Masters… Sora had assumed he was human up until now, but what if he wasn’t? The possibility of that frightened him, and he wasn’t even sure what he should be most afraid of about this guy anymore.

“Don’t leave me.”

Sora sobbed. “Kairi, I don’t want to be alone…” Not now. Not again. Never again. “Please don’t leave me alone!”

He felt safer with her by his side, safer and stronger. Aside from that, her presence distracted him from all the thoughts and fears that were rushing through his mind at that moment. He needed a break.

“Don’t worry,” Kairi said, and her voice was sweet and warm. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

“Thank you!”

She wrapped her arms around him, pulled him closer, and Sora rested his head on her shoulder. He was still crying, but somehow, he felt better still. He was glad he had finally told someone, and that it had been her.

He sighed when she leaned her head on his, and they continued to watch the horizon in silence, listening to the calming sound of the waves.

#Kingdom Hearts #KH Fanfiction #Podfic #SoKaiDay2022 #Sora #Kairi #SoKai #Fanwork #Fanfiction #SoKaiDay #Master of Masters #Currantlee here #Currantlee writing

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rachelkaser · 2 years

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Stay Golden Supplement: The Golden Girls as a D&D party

The Golden Girls would make a great Dungeons & Dragons adventuring party. But which classes would they be? Let’s discuss...

While doing my general research into all things Golden Girls, I came across a post online claiming that the creators of Dungeons & Dragons based the ideal adventuring party on the Girls. When I first heard this, admittedly I cocked my head to the side in confusion, as those are two intellectual properties I didn’t think to see crossing over any time soon.

The evidence for this was a tweet from Mike Mearls, the creative director for the D&D franchise. I was able to verify that the tweet is real -- and very likely a joke.

But honestly, it doesn’t have to be. The Girls as a group personify a perfect melding of disparate personalities. They are a closed system -- they play off of each other so well that to remove one is to create imbalance (which is why Golden Palace failed, but that’s a topic for another day).

A party of four is kind of an old trope anyway. The Four Horsemen, the Four Cardinal Virtues, the four Western classical elements, the four humors . . . honestly, humans seem to be drawn to the balance of the number four. So really, even if he’s not joking and the ideal party is based on the Girls, then really they’re just tapping into something much older.

Seeing that tweet gave me an idea. I’m by no means an expert on D&D* -- but I do consider myself something of an expert on The Golden Girls. So, because I felt compelled to write this now rather than wait until the end of Season Three’s Stay Golden Sundays, let’s consider what each one of the Golden Girls would look like as a member of a Dungeons & Dragons party.

*We’ll be using 5th Edition to build this party, because, as mentioned, I am not an expert and I’m sticking to what I know.

Rose as a Cleric

Let’s start with the most obvious first. I can’t be the only one who thinks Rose Nylund-as-healer is a gimme. First of all, her job at the beginning of the series is a grief counselor, so she literally tends to the sick and upset. She also frequently volunteers in hospitals, and is generally just a compassionate and comforting person.

Rose’s good nature and positive spirit, while occasionally annoying, feels very in-line with the role of the party healer. She’s frequently the voice of emotional reason, even when she delivers her wisdom in an unwanted St. Olaf Story. She’s willing to extend a hand of friendship even to those who rebuff her, and is hit the hardest when bad things happen to those around her despite her best efforts. In other words, while her Intelligence might be low, she’s got way more points in Wisdom than people expect.

As for the divine nature of a Cleric’s powers, I will point out that Rose is the only party member whom we have actually seen converse with a god (albeit a very frustrated one who told her to shut up) in “Bedtime Story.” Something tells me Rose using Channel Divinity is not necessarily a welcome thing to her deity of choice.

Speaking of deities of choice, for Rose’s subclass, I think she’s a Life Domain Cleric. Described by the Player’s Handbook as focused on “the vibrant positive energy . . . that sustains all life,” Life Domain seems tailor-made for Rose’s relentlessly positive spirit. Bless, Cure Wounds, Guardian of Faith and most especially Beacon of Hope are precisely the kinds of spells Rose would have if she were given the option to wield magic.

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That said, Rose also shares one characteristic with most clerics I’ve seen: She’s not without her own ways to bring the pain. When someone who’s undeserving of her sympathy crosses her, Rose can put the hurt out and then some. This is why I would love for her to have the Divine Strike and Spiritual Weapon abilities. Rose’s strikes would really knock you for a loop -- because not only will you never see them coming, but you know she’ll be coming at you with nothing but good thoughts on her side.

As an alternate subclass, Rose would also fit as a Nature Domain Cleric. Out of all the Girls, she spends the most time around animals. She grew up on a farm, and honestly I think she wouldn’t even need the help of a god in order to Speak with Animals -- that just sounds like something she’d develop on her own. We even see her using it once or twice in the series, such as when she speaks to the dog in “Joust Between Friends.”

The one reason I wouldn’t go for Nature is that most of its spells seem to be plant-based, and Rose is more an animal person than a plant person (though the people of her hometown do have a holiday celebrating hay). Honestly, were I creating Rose as a character, I would give her either Animal Friendship or Speak with Animals (or both) as a bonus spell related to her character background.

Dorothy as a Fighter

If one has only a surface-level understanding of Dorothy Zbornak, then one might think that, out of all the warrior-adjacent classes, she’d go Barbarian. And yes, she’s the biggest and strongest character whose frustrations with the quirks of her roommates and the limited intelligence of those around her sometimes manifested as explosive bursts of rage (where she once uprooted a mighty sequoia).

But I think focusing on that overlooks something more important about her: She’s a teacher. What characteristics does a teacher have? Intelligence and patience, for starters. She’s also cool-headed under fire, and it’s very difficult to get anything over on her. I don’t think she’s quite got the defensive capabilities of a Paladin, but I do think she would make a great Fighter.

When Dorothy lays someone out, it is never undeserved, and it’s almost invariably in defense of another. If you pay attention to what Dorothy does in the series, a lot of her greatest moments are instigated by her protectiveness of those around her. While Dorothy takes hits herself, nothing will piss her off faster than seeing someone she loves made a target.

This is why I would give her the Interception fighting style. Throughout the course of the series, Dorothy:

Verbally rips open Blanche’s abusive boyfriend

Aggressively defends both her own children and Blanche’s daughter Rebecca

Puts an anti-Semite who looks down on Blanche and Rose in her place with three words

Protects Blanche from being arrested for murder by finding the real culprit

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Even her greatest takedown in the series -- her blistering diatribe to her dismissive, misogynistic former doctor -- ends with her saying he should learn from this to be more humane towards his future patients. It’s not always a positive trait: Her protectiveness made her a bit of a helicopter parent. But Dorothy will always, always go to the mat for the people she loves and herself.

In case it’s not already obvious, I think Dorothy would make a fantastic Battle Master. Described as a Fighter for whom “combat is an academic field,” the Battle Master’s capabilities fall within Dorothy’s purview. Know Your Enemy is her ability to read and quickly judge those around her, while Relentless is her unerring pursuit of what she believes is a just cause.

As for her Maneuvers, I’d give her, at least at 3rd level, Menacing Attack, Riposte, and Goading Attack. At higher levels, I can see her also gaining Maneuvers like Disarming Attack, Commanding Presence, and Parry. If you need any more evidence that this subclass is perfect for Dorothy, tell me this clip is not an example of a Goading Attack in action:

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Sophia as a Rogue

Much like Rose-as-healer is a gimme, Sophia Petrillo-as-sneaky-Rogue is also a gimme. Dorothy’s diminutive Italian mother uses guile, wit, and occasionally less-than-legal means to get her way. While her stealth abilities are not always on display in the show, Sophia gets plenty of opportunity to live up to the Roguish archetype.

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Out of all the Girls, Sophia is the only one who might possibly have criminal connections. But even if she doesn’t, she bluffs well enough to fool anyone. In one of her spotlight episodes, “The Days and Nights of Sophia Petrillo,” she uses brilliant verbal Evasion and Cunning Actions to divert the attention of grocery store workers on behalf of a friend, even getting out of having to pay for her own nectarine.

Also, I say she doesn’t get much chance to show her stealth skills, but it does actually come up more than once. I think the best example is when she manages to scare the living daylights out of her roommates (fresh off of a viewing of Psycho) in the middle of the night.

If Sophia uses sneaky abilities, it doesn’t always manifest as physical violence -- for example, in “Sophia’s Choice,” she helps her ailing friend Lillian to escape from her neglectful care home by pushing a man in wheelchair into a hallway, forcing all the workers to chase after him and diverting their attention. She also surprises Blanche’s grandson with a Sneak Attack, in this case a well-timed slap to the face, when he’s getting wound up in “On Golden Girls.”

As for subclasses, I think her most obvious choice is the classic Thief. Sophia frequently admits to stealing from her daughter, mostly for small change -- even though Dorothy is willing to give her money. She’s got Fast Hands, for sure. In “Twas the Nightmare Before Christmas,” she disarms a gunman before he can react and is able to tell at a glance that his gun is a toy.

Probably her best onscreen demonstrations of this skill are in “The Triangle” and “Ladies of the Evening.” In the former, she steals $40 from Rose while distracting her with a Picture It story, to demonstrate the Rose didn’t absorb her lesson to “Quit being an idiot.” In the latter, she swipes the Burt Reynolds tickets from Blanche’s hand right in front of a police officer without him noticing.

That said, I do think there’s some merit to considering Arcane Trickster. While Sophia doesn’t have much magical ability, she does use the Evil Eye once in the series to curse a neighbor who insults her. Sophia would create utter havoc with access to just one or two well-chosen cantrips, such as Mage Hand or Mind Sliver. I also would enjoy seeing her as a Swashbuckler, but only because she looks good in a pirate’s hat.

Blanche as a Wizard/Bard/Wizard-Bard multiclass

Blanche Deveraux was, surprisingly, the most difficult to pin out of the bunch. While assigning the other Girls classes was fairly simple, Blanche’s potential role in the party didn’t necessarily dovetail with her personality. The classic D&D lineup is Warrior-Rogue-Cleric-Wizard. Putting the others in their classes leaves Blanche with the task of handling magical DPS.

And that does, to a certain extent, make sense. Blanche is a haughty, sassy woman who can toss out an insult that hits as hard as any fireball. She’s no hedge wizard -- she’s a well-educated woman who’s not afraid of making a bit of spectacle. I could totally see her walking into any tavern and getting everyone’s attention with a click of her fingers.

But part of Blanche’s whole deal is her charm. She’s got charisma to spare and can appeal to just about anyone. I know it’s a stereotype, but Blanche really reads “bard” to me. If she were to get everyone’s attention in a tavern, it would be to find whomever is lucky enough to be her paramour for the night. And while all of the Girls have storyteller elements about them, Blanche tells stories with the most relish and gusto.

If I were to assume this is 5th Edition, I would say Blanche could make a fantastic Bard/Wizard multiclass. But just for the sake of exploring all of our options, I’ll consider Blanche’s potential in both classes. If anyone would like to picture her as a WiBard, that will be entirely at your own discretion.

For her subclasses, let’s start with her Wizard school. I put Blanche down as an Enchantment spellcaster -- tell me “Hypnotic Gaze” and “Instinctive Charm” don’t sound like something Blanche can (and would) utilize. She’s definitely the face of the party, being the one who’s most likely to attract attention when she walks into town.

Conversely, Blanche as a Bard would probably fit into the College of Lore. I think Blanche’s passion for art shouldn’t be overlooked by her more obvious charms: She’s just as proficient as storyteller as she is a seductress. Also, Cutting Words is something Blanche has used on-screen more than once. I can’t see Blanche’s Charisma modifier being anything lower than a 5.

As for specific spells, I can see Blanche using things like Silvery Barbs, Charm Person, Enthrall, and maybe even Feeblemind if she really manages to get in a good hit. I can also see her throwing out a Power Word when she needs to put her opponent in the ground -- which, again, she has done on more than one occasion.

The Golden Girls as a party

Again, this might seem like an odd crossover to you -- it did to me when I first started writing this out. But now that I’ve analyzed it to hell and back, it makes a certain kind of sense to me. The Golden Girls each filled an important role in their group and though they may not have gone on high fantasy adventures, they had as much fun as any other party I’ve seen.

If anyone has any other suggestions for the Girls’ party makeup or how to refine their abilities . . . or hell, even if someone wants to share some Golden Girls/D&D fanart, then please feel free to do so! All suggestions are welcome here!

And don’t forget: Stay Golden!

#golden girls #stay golden #stay golden sunday #dorothy zbornak #dnd #sophia petrillo #rose nylund #blanche deveraux #dungeons and dragons #dnd classes

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sonorous-strings · 1 year

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Sonar stepped back out onto the stage after the short break during his first appearance in what felt like weeks. Which... to be fair, it was. Usually he did stuff like this weekly, but lately, what with all that had happened? It felt like he hadn't had any time for anything else. Everything just seemed to be taking them this way and that, without any time to rest.

He'd never had a song come together this fast. He was lucky that the rest of his band actually liked the song. He would have made them learn it anyway, because he very much wanted this to be played for Carol. Something about them, how he felt, and just how precious everything seemed to be.

So the cheers came up again. There was Carol, having shoved her way to the front like usual. She was the Battlesphere Champion; she could just have her own spot with a view just as good. Knowing her, though, she probably just wanted to be a part of everything and be her usual selfish self like that. And it was kind of cute, honestly. But their eyes met and he dropped his performance persona for a moment to just smile at her. This was going to be good. He wondered if she would recognize the intent of the song, that it was about them, a sort of message to her that he didn't know how else to say.

And what better way than as a rock star?

"This is something I wrote pretty recently," he said into the microphone. "Don't really have much to say about it, really, that's how new it is. But I think you guys are gonna like it. Let's just say it's something people need to hear. And, come on, it's me, so it's a good song, right? Are you ready?!" The crowd responded with a roar.

"This is 'All We Need'."

The lights came down and the spotlight was on him... and began to clap, hands held over his head to signal the crowd to join in, as if helping the drummer get the beat for the new song. The crowd would know when to stop, though the intent was when his guitar would kick in. They usually got it, though. He grinned to himself as he began to play, being greeted with the clapping dying down- his fans knew him pretty well. Funny how he had more fans after moving to another planet than he did before.

If you could read my mind now What do you think you would see? You'd see my life in your hands now You got a hold over me

I see it in your eyes 'cause they tell no lies I guess it's part of the thrill You're like a shooting star with a vacant heart That's going in for the kill

We got a good thing going So don't let it die

All we need is some love and emotion All we have is a moment in time All we need is a promise unbroken and to believe in the dream Is all we need

This ain't no bedtime story This one you'll never forget You're like a night never ending That I can't wait to regret

I can't control myself, don't want nobody else Is this too good to be true? You gotta dance just like there's no one watchin' So come on, kick off your shoes

We got a good thing going So don't let it die

All we need is some love and emotion All we have is a moment in time All we need is a promise unbroken and to believe in the dream Is all we need

He went back to clapping for a few seconds, getting the audience back into it, then letting his solo flow out. Truth be told, it was quite different from his usual style- more heartfelt, not as shreddy. Not nearly as long. But he couldn't just leave it without one, so he came up with one that worked. It just wasn't as "active" as usual.

There was a few seconds of lull, just the background guitarist letting a few clean notes ring out, so he grabbed the microphone off its stand- "Come on, you know the chorus by now!"- and held it out to the crowd as the drums came back full swing for the last few chorus lines. They'd have help- the backup singers were singing as well, so they could at least flub along to the tune. He wouldn't play for the first chorus line, only returning to the act once the crowd had finished and he'd put the microphone back, motioning for everyone to keep singing.

All we need is some love and emotion All we have is a moment in time All we need is a promise unbroken and to believe in the dream Is all we need

All we need is some love and emotion All we have is a moment in time All we need is a promise unbroken and to believe in the dream -He let his guitar ring out, his arms flung out- Is all we need The music carried over into its outro, repeating the intro as Sonar sang over it while the backup singers harmonized with some "Ah's." Oh, it's all we need

Yeah, it's all we need

It's all we need

Yeah, it's all we need We got a good thing going Oh, it's all we need We got a good thing going Yeah, it's all we need We got a good thing going So don't let it die

There was a glance at Carol, and a wink accompanying that smirk he'd perfected.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K0FCcpe4ibI

#drabble #man I really write a lot of drabbles about musical tea don't i #musical tea #song is 'All We Need' by Def Leppard #heard it and wanted to use this

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uomo-accattivante · 3 years

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Excellent article about bringing a re-make of Ingmar Bergman’s Scenes from a Marriage to fruition, and the twenty-year friendship that Oscar Isaac and Jessica Chastain share:

There were days on the shoot for “Scenes From a Marriage,” a five-episode limited series that premieres Sept. 12 on HBO, when Oscar Isaac resented the crew.

The problem wasn’t the crew members themselves, he told me on a video call in March. But the work required of him and his co-star, Jessica Chastain, was so unsparingly intimate — “And difficult!” Chastain added from a neighboring Zoom window — that every time a camera operator or a makeup artist appeared, it felt like an intrusion.

On his other projects, Isaac had felt comfortably distant from the characters and their circumstances — interplanetary intrigue, rogue A.I. But “Scenes” surveys monogamy and parenthood, familiar territory. Sometimes Isaac would film a bedtime scene with his onscreen child (Lily Jane) and then go home and tuck his own child into the same model of bed as the one used onset, accessorized with the same bunny lamp, and not know exactly where art ended and life began.

“It was just a lot,” he said.

Chastain agreed, though she put it more strongly. “I mean, I cried every day for four months,” she said.

Isaac, 42, and Chastain, 44, have known each other since their days at the Juilliard School. And they have channeled two decades of friendship, admiration and a shared and obsessional devotion to craft into what Michael Ellenberg, one of the series’s executive producers, called “five hours of naked, raw performance.” (That nudity is metaphorical, mostly.)

“For me it definitely felt incredibly personal,” Chastain said on the call in the spring, about a month after filming had ended. “That’s why I don’t know if I have another one like this in me. Yeah, I can’t decide that. I can’t even talk about it without. …” She turned away from the screen. (It was one of several times during the call that I felt as if I were intruding, too.)

The original “Scenes From a Marriage,” created by Ingmar Bergman, debuted on Swedish television in 1973. Bergman’s first television series, its six episodes trace the dissolution of a middle-class marriage. Starring Liv Ullmann, Bergman’s ex, it drew on his own past relationships, though not always directly.

“When it comes to Bergman, the relationship between autobiography and fiction is extremely complicated,” said Jan Holmberg, the chief executive of the Ingmar Bergman Foundation.

A sensation in Sweden, it was seen by most of the adult population. And yes, sure, correlation does not imply causation, but after its debut, Swedish divorce were rumored to have doubled. Holmberg remembers watching a rerun as a 10-year-old.

“It was a rude awakening to adult life,” he said.

The writer and director Hagai Levi saw it as a teenager, on Israeli public television, during a stint on a kibbutz. “I was shocked,” he said. The series taught him that a television series could be radical, that it could be art. When he created “BeTipul,” the Israeli precursor to “In Treatment,” he used “Scenes” as proof of the concept “that two people can talk for an hour and it can work,” Levi said. (Strangely, “Scenes” also inspired the prime-time soap “Dallas.”)

So when Daniel Bergman, Ingmar Bergman’s youngest son, approached Levi about a remake, he was immediately interested.

But the project languished, in part because loving a show isn’t reason enough to adapt it. Divorce is common now — in Sweden, and elsewhere — and the relationship politics of the original series, in which the male character deserts his wife and young children for an academic post, haven’t aged particularly well.

Then about two years ago, Levi had a revelation. He would swap the gender roles. A woman who leaves her marriage and child in pursuit of freedom (with a very hot Israeli entrepreneur in place of a visiting professorship) might still provoke conversation and interest.

So the Marianne and Johan of the original became Mira and Jonathan, with a Boston suburb (re-created in a warehouse just north of New York City), stepping in for the Stockholm of the original. Jonathan remains an academic though Mira, a lawyer in the original, is now a businesswoman who out-earns him.

Casting began in early 2020. After Isaac met with Levi, he wrote to Chastain to tell her about the project. She wasn’t available. The producers cast Michelle Williams. But the pandemic reshuffled everyone’s schedules. When production was ready to resume, Williams was no longer free. Chastain was. “That was for me the most amazing miracle,” Levi said.

Isaac and Chastain met in the early 2000s at Juilliard. He was in his first year; she, in her third. He first saw her in a scene from a classical tragedy, slapping men in the face as Helen of Troy. He was friendly with her then-boyfriend, and they soon became friends themselves, bonding through the shared trauma of an acting curriculum designed to break its students down and then build them back up again. Isaac remembered her as “a real force of nature and solid, completely solid, with an incredible amount of integrity,” he said.

In the next window, Chastain blushed. “He was super talented,” she said. “But talented in a way that wasn’t expected, that’s challenging and pushing against constructs and ideas.” She introduced him to her manager, and they celebrated each other’s early successes and went to each other’s premieres. (A few of those photos are used in “Scenes From a Marriage” as set dressing.)

In 2013, Chastain was cast in J.C. Chandor’s “A Most Violent Year,”opposite Javier Bardem. When Bardem dropped out, Chastain campaigned for Isaac to have the role. Weeks before shooting, they began to meet, fleshing out the back story of their characters — a husband and wife trying to corner the heating oil market in 1981 New York — the details of the marriage, business, life.

It was their first time working together, and each felt a bond that went deeper than a parallel education and approach. “Something connects us that’s stronger than any ideas of character or story or any of that,” Isaac said. “There’s something else that’s more about like, a shared existence.”

Chandor noticed how they would support each other on set, and challenge each other, too, giving each other the freedom to take the characters’ relationship to dark and dangerous places. “They have this innate trust with each other,” Chandor said.

That trust eliminated the need for actorly tricks or shortcuts, in part because they know each other’s tricks too well. Their motto, Isaac said, was, “Let’s figure this [expletive] out together and see what’s the most honest thing we can do.”

Moni Yakim, Juilliard’s celebrated movement instructor, has followed their careers closely and he noted what he called the “magnetism and spiritual connection” that they suggested onscreen in the film.

“It’s a kind of chemistry,” Yakim said. “They can read each other’s mind and you as an audience, you can sense it.”

Telepathy takes work. When they knew that shooting “Scenes From a Marriage” could begin, Chastain bought a copy of “All About Us,” a guided journal for couples, and filled in her sections in character as Mira. Isaac brought it home and showed it to his wife, the filmmaker Elvira Lind.

“She was like, ‘You finally found your match,’” Isaac recalled. “’Someone that is as big of a nerd as you are.’”

The actors rehearsed, with Levi and on their own, talking their way through each long scene, helping each other through the anguished parts. When production had to halt for two weeks, they rehearsed then, too.

Watching these actors work reminded Amy Herzog, a writer and executive producer on the series, of race horses in full gallop. “These are two people who have so much training and skill,” she said. “Because it’s an athletic feat, what they were being asked to do.”

But training and skill and the “All About Us” book hadn’t really prepared them for the emotional impact of actually shooting “Scenes From a Marriage.” Both actors normally compartmentalize when they work, putting up psychic partitions between their roles and themselves. But this time, the partitions weren’t up to code.

“I knew I was in trouble the very first week,” Chastain said.

She couldn’t hide how the scripts affected her, especially from someone who knows her as well as Isaac does. “I just felt so exposed,” she said. “This to me, more than anything I’ve ever worked on, was definitely the most open I’ve ever been.”

“It felt so dangerous,” she said.

I visited the set in February (after multiple Covid-19 tests and health screenings) during a final day of filming. It was the quietest set I had ever seen: The atmosphere was subdued, reverent almost, a crew and a studio space stripped down to only what two actors would need to do the most passionate and demanding work of their careers.

Isaac didn’t know if he would watch the completed series. “It really is the first time ever, where I’ve done something where I’m totally fine never seeing this thing,” he said. “Because I’ve really lived through it. And in some ways I don’t want whatever they decide to put together to change my experience of it, which was just so intense.”

The cameras captured that intensity. Though Chastain isn’t Mira and Isaac isn’t Jonathan, each drew on personal experience — their parents’ marriages, past relationships — in ways they never had. Sometimes work on the show felt like acting, and sometimes the work wasn’t even conscious. There’s a scene in the harrowing fourth episode in which they both lie crumpled on the floor, an identical stress vein bulging in each forehead.

“It’s my go-to move, the throbbing forehead vein,” Isaac said on a follow-up video call last month. Chastain riffed on the joke: “That was our third year at Juilliard, the throb.”

By then, it had been five months since the shoot wrapped. Life had returned to something like normal. Jokes were possible again. Both of them seemed looser, more relaxed. (Isaac had already poured himself one tequila shot and was ready for another.) No one cried.

Chastain had watched the show with her husband. And Isaac, despite his initial reluctance, had watched it, too. It didn’t seem to have changed his experience.

“I’ve never done anything like it,” he said. “And I can’t imagine doing anything like it again.”

###

#oscar isaac #jessica chastain #scenes from a marriage #hagai levi #michelle williams #elvira lind #behind the scenes #article

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bowieandqueen11 · 3 years

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Karl Heisenberg As A Dad Headcanons

Request: Would you happen to have any wholesome Dad!Heisenberg HCs? 👉🏻👈🏻 Your writing is absolutely wonderful btw! ❤️

Oh my goodness thank you so much my lovely!!! This is such a sweet request <3

If you enjoy, please comment and reblog!

(Gif credit goes to: @robotoco-fanart, character and Resident Evil do not belong to me, all rights and credit goes to its creator)

OKAY OKAY OKAY

softdadsoftdadsoftdadsoftsoftsoft

At first, the man literally has no idea what to do with a kid. His idea of looking after children is to just to just let them go wild so they can go live in trees or whatever.

So, when his daughter first arrives into his arms at the factory, the first thing that pops into Karl’s head is whether he can ship the poor thing off to go live with Donna and her house of dolls because he thinks a baby would cramp his style too much.

Much deeper down inside though, right down at the fragmented shards that nestled and poked at the bottom of his heart, he was also worried for the kid. He knew he couldn’t give them a proper life. Heck, he could barely look after himself with his crazy family around. How was he supposed to protect a kid from Mother Miranda?

Although everyone was sure the frown on his face when he first saw the kiddo was one of distaste, in reality he was just really sad because he believed he could never be the father this child deserved.

Then one day, he decides to take a break from experimenting on soldats down in the basement levels of his factory to go up and check on the kiddo, mainly just to make sure Donna hasn’t let her crawl out of her crib and eat any important old documents or blueprints he left lying around his bedroom’s cabinet. But when he goes into the room, peering down with those falling glasses on the bridge of his nose into the little cot by the corner window, he finds himself scared.

For the first time in his life, something pains through his chest. But this time it isn’t horror, or arrogance, or repugnance, or fear anger hatred loneliness - no, this thing was warm, running jolts around his stomach until he felt almost queasy with the power of it.

Love. What he felt, for the first time in his life, was love. His little kiddo looked up at him with these big, kind puppy eyes - the same colour as his, and reached up to wrap her little pudgy fingers around his coarse, shaking thumb that leant on the wood.

And boom, that was it. Game over for vengeful Heisenberg. Cue protective dad mode.

(Although he was a little less certain when the little trickster grabbed his sunglasses from off his face, but that’s okay. He can make a new pair of those any time. But her, she was irreplaceable in his heart.)

Okay, but can you just imagine Karl holding his little daughter in like a little knitted blanket, coddled up against his ragged chest as he rocks her with tears in his eyes omg???

As kiddo grows up, there’s a protective ring of Lycans standing guard around the outskirts of the factory’s fields at all times, 24/7. No one from the village is allowed in or out under any business, which is where the rumour of the Lords being like vampires or werewolves begins (although sometimes Karl will pop down into the town and spend some time spreading rumours at the inn just because he likes to see people’s faces when they realise he is THE werewolf Heisenberg their family have told them never to go near.)

Kiddo isn’t allowed to go out anywhere near the village either unless Karl comes with her. When she’s young, he’ll have massive coats on the two of them so they don’t freeze in the snow that dusts the rocky ground with its tendrils, carrying kiddo on his hip. If she’s a bit older, he has an arm tight around her shoulder so she’s tucked just inside the edge of his trench coat, and he growls at any person that dares to look at her for longer than two seconds.

He spends a long time trying to make her first word dad - he sees it as like a source of pride that it should be. Sometimes he’ll sit her down on a workbench and just stare down at her all seriously, until his mouth drops open and he pulls a silly face to make her laugh. Then, when he works, he keeps on just repeating ‘dadda’ or ‘come on kiddo, you can say it’ but ends up being so annoyed when her first word is her trying to say Angie lmao.

For like a week he disappears, and Donna becomes worried about what he’s doing, and why there’s no noise or sound from him except smoky tendrils of steam and licks of fire bellowing out from the belly of the factory every so often. Turns out, as he sneaks in to kiss his daughter on the forehead one late night while she’s sleeping, and takes a moment to hang it over her cot, he was making a little mobile of two wolves chasing the sun and moon.

Since our man ‘works from home’, when kiddo gets to become a bit older he invites her down to learn the tricks of the trade with him. Mostly this just involves her sitting on a stool down in his office room with a bored looking face as he wildly and animatedly throws shards of metal into the pictures of Alcina and Miranda, explaining why she should never go near them.

In the end they’re both kind of knackered, so by the time lunch rolls through they’ve both laid down on a bench and fallen asleep on each other’s shoulders.

Although he’s not the best at showing affection, he is trying, he really is. This usually comes through as him reading bedtime stories to his kiddo, lying down on the duvet next to her and nearly shoving the poor child out of the bed. He totally gets coerced into doing silly voices for all the characters, and although he pretends to groan and roll his eyes he gets way too into it.

Usually, though, he’s the one to fall asleep first. Kiddo usually wakes up to find her dad still asleep against the headboard, with the book collapsed on the floor and Karl’s hat hanging half over his face as he snores.

When she’s younger, and Karl doesn’t want to go to family meetings, he’ll dress her up in his long coat and hat that hangs over her eyes and sends her off, laughing his ass off the whole while at the way the frayed fabric ends trail across the floor as she tries to walk.

He says Alcina is so tall anyway she wouldn’t notice the difference.

Most of the time he just takes her with her though, because despite how gruff and how much of a lone wolf he pretends to be he has pretty bad separation anxiety. She’ll just sit on his knee as he makes her laugh by pretending to mimic Miranda, telling everyone to shut up anytime she starts babbling, giving her his full attention.

He also says the babbling makes more sense than anything Alcina has ever said, which ends up with poor Donna holding the baby while the two of them tussle about the pews.

Also please imagine Donna roping him into doing tea parties.

He’s not a great teacher, so Moreau steps in. Heck, sometimes even Karl will be sitting next to his daughter on the floor in confusion because he has no idea what algebraic fractions are.

His daughter is the most important thing in the world to him, and he will do everything in his power to protect her from the outside world.

#resident evil #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg imagine #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg headcanons #karl heisenberg fluff #resident evil imagine #re #re village #resident evil village #heisenberg #heisenberg re #re 8 #resident evil 8

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kai-writes-fan-fiction · 3 years

Note

could you write avengers x ocd!reader? 🥺 ty

I’d love to! I feel like OCD is such a stigmatized disorder, and I’ve been diagnosed myself. To make it more inclusive, I’ve done some extra research. This piece includes a few triggers like extreme Germaphobia, panic attacks, sensory symmetry, my safe numbers are anything divisible by five, my favorites are 10. 50, and 100, so for the sake of this sort, those are the numbers I’ll be using.

You were diagnosed with OCD at the age of 12

When you weren’t on your medication, your symptoms were pretty severe

You joined The Avengers at 13, and it’s been 2 years, so you were 15

You’d learned how to cope really well, but your symptoms fluctuated, and were often too much to handle without meds

Only Fury knew, and you asked him to keep it in between the two of you

He obliged, but advised you tell them eventually to prevent incidents

One day, you needed to go get your prescription refilled, but you were below the legal driving age

Instead of risking the reveal of your well guarded secret and asking someone to just take you to the pharmacy, which was, in no way, waking, flying, or running distance from the Compound

You decided to just suffer and get your prescription when you were in the city

You spent the next agonizing days in your room in fear of the rest of The Avengers thinking your routines, counting, taping, and whatnot was you just being a crazy teenager overreacting

Little did you know, all the time you’d been spending in your room was suspicious to the rest of the team and they began hypothesizing whatever you were doing in there for such a long amount of time

“I bet you she isn’t even in there!” -Sam

“She could be on her period or something.” -Tony

“Ew!” -Peter

“First of all, Tony, that’s inappropriate, secondly, Peter, don’t be immature it’s natural, thirdly, I’m with Sam she could be on one of her “teenage escapades”!” -Natasha

“What’re we taking about?” -Steve

“We’re trying to come up with reasons (Y/N) hasn’t left her room in a few days.” -Bucky

“Oh, my money’s on her being on her period.” -Steve

“EXACTLY.” -Tony

“S T E V E, NO.” -Natasha

“Instead of thinking about what she’s doing, why doesn’t someone check on her?” -Bruce

“Great. Thanks for volunteering Bruce!” -Tony

“But I didn’t-“ -Bruce

“I’ll go. I’m her favorite.” -Peter

“Only because you’re her age, spiderling.” -Tony

Peter went to your room, you didn’t respond, still worried about their judgement

“(Y/N), could you please let me in? I’m worried about you. Are you ok?” -Peter

On the verge of a panic attack “I’m ok! Please go away!” -you

“Ok, but can you come out later today? Please?”

“I’ll think about it.”

You were left alone until dinner

“(Y/N)! Dinner! I’ve got your favorite! If you come out you can have some!” -Bucky

Feeling better you decided to come out, as your symptoms had calmed down

You came and ate with the team, and they could tell your behavior was different

You washed your plate and silverware 5 times before you served yourself

You were counting things, and trying to tap things inconspicuously, which wasn’t working

You looked really grossed out when Sam sneezed and when Peter double-dipped the salsa (If you double-dip, and it isn’t your personal sauce/salsa/guacamole/etc. ew what’re you doing)

Natasha finally decided to break the tension

“(Y/N), why have you been in your room all week? Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Then why were you in your room? I bet on it being your period.” -Tony

“Dude, seriously? I wasn’t on my period. I’m fine.” -you snapped

“Are you sure?” -Steve

“I’m sure. Thanks for dinner.”

You went back to your room, and you already felt yourself getting riled up again. This was going to be a very long night

“She’s not ok.” -Peter

“Yeah, no duh. I’ll go check on her.” -Steve

Steve straight up walked into your room and found you in the middle of your bedtime routine

“Ever heard of privacy?” -you

“Nope. What’re you doing? And seriously, are you ok?” -Steve

He had good intentions, and you were done with the “I’m emotionally stable” charade, so you told the truth

He looked confused, and you immediately regretted E V E R Y T H I N G

“We can refill it tomorrow, I’ll drive you. You should’ve told us! We care about you and we wanna know what’s going on in your life. How about you tell the rest of the team?” -Steve

“Ughhhh fine.” -you

You told the rest of the team, and you watched as they exchanged money. Had they been betting on what you were doing?

“You guys are stupid.” -you

“We know.” -Sam

“Shut up Sam. You don’t need to hide stuff from us (Y/N).” -Natasha

“Yeah, I know, but I didn’t want you guys to think I’m crazy or just being a moody teenager or something.”

“Hey, having OCD doesn’t make you crazy! If you ever need anyone to talk to, we’re always here.” -Tony

“Thanks guys. I’m going to bed now though. Nighhhttt.”

You left all of them in the common room, and you went to bed

You were thankful for their kind words and happy you could go get a refill

They always checked on you when you were feeling anxious

They could somehow tell when something that wasn’t OCD friendly was bothering you, and it was always fixed

BONUS YAYYYYAYAYAYAY

“So that was unexpected.” -Loki

“When in the hell did you get here?!?” -Steve

“Been here the whole time. Night!” -Loki

“Man that was a lot though.” Strange

“When did YOU get here?!?” -Steve

“20 minutes ago. Anyway, goodnight.” -Strange

“Ok, who else is here that wasn’t here for dinner?” -Steve

“Me!” -Zemo

“YOU’RE IN PRISON WHAT?!?”

Shoot this kinda turned into a story sorry guys

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lady-literature · 4 years

Text

Accidental Crime Boss Marinette

Okay so,, I have this AU in my head, right? (not surprised) and I’m lacking any real direction for it (still not surprised) but it basically goes like this:

Marinette moves to Gotham.

She’s drawn there for whatever reason and the kwami are saying something about balance and being a Guardian and her sacred duty and something but Marinette isn’t really listening. She’s too busy trying to find a shop front where she can open a bakery without having to worry about getting mugged every time she steps outside.

Chloé comes with her, obviously, because they’re friends and Chloé has a business degree she puts to good use actually running Mari’s bakery and online boutique while Mari gets to bake and fuck around basically. Adrien, Luka and Kagami are not there, but that’s mostly because they travel too much to settle down and keeping an empty apartment in Gotham is just asking for trouble.

Kagami is a world-renowned fencer and Luka travels the world for his music company. Not touring, but soaking up cultures and ways of life so he can make soundtracks to movies and tv shows. Providing the background and life to a film is more his style than touring the world ala his father, Jagged Stone.

Adrien is having the time of his life being Kagami’s trophy husband. He has no pressing responsibilities he doesn’t take on for himself and he gets to fuck with the world’s elite with little to no consequences. He spends most of his days donating far too much money to charities and orphanages and then causing minor scandals that land him on the cover of magazines.

He has much the same kind of ‘dumbass with a heart of gold’ persona to the media as Bruce Wayne does, only without the playboy bits.

(There is a wall in the back of the bakery, where Chloé and Mari carefully cut out and frame every headline and ridiculous picture Adrien has. He is very much delighted when he learns about his ‘wall of fame’.)

Anyway, Marinette finds herself with a bakery not overly far from crime alley, much to Chloé’s chagrin.

(“What do you mean it ‘just felt right’?! I swear to kwami, DC, you’re going to get us robbed and sold into slavery.”)

They do not get sold into salvery.

In fact, despite their less than stellar choice of locale, they do pretty well for themselves. The only problems they have (according to Chloé) is the army of children Marinette accidentally attracted.

When asked, Marinette tells everyone that it was an accident. Meanwhile, Chloé, standing behind her, will shake her head and insist there was literally never any other option for them the moment that first kid came in looking to nab some cash and a few pastries.

Mari lives by the phrases, ‘kindness breeds more kindness’ and ‘do unto others’ and all that other nice person shit. Chloé just lets Mari pseudo-adopt her strays and makes sure that they don’t steal anything too important in the time it takes her to gain their loyalty.

The kwami stay staunchly out of any arguments involving the kids (and eventually the homeless all along their street and every working girl in a five-block radius). They do so with a special brand of amusement that never means good things for either of them. (After all, the last time the kwami looked that amused, they moved to Gotham.)

The first kid is named Serrure, as Marinette comes to learn over the next month after he returns again and again, getting closer and closer like a feral cat. Other kids come during that time, all of them too small and too thin and too guarded for Mari's tastes. She wants to wrap them all up and tuck them into bed but she can’t. She has to be patient, has to be gentle. These kids are just as likely to bite her hand as they are to accept help.

Serrure becomes an almost permanent fixture at the bakery after that first month. Mari’s not quite sure what she did to get through to him, but she did, she supposes. He can’t be much older than eleven and looks nine, but after getting settled, she and Chloé discover this little slip of a boy is just as mischievous as Trixx and has all the dramatics of their favorite black cat.

The kwami, when talking about him, only refer to Serrure as Loki, even after Marinette scolds them for it. She eventually gives up trying to correct them, it’s not like Serrure talks to them anyway(yet)((that she knows of)).

There’s an apartment above the bakery, which is where Chloé and Mari and all her strays that grow to trust her enough live. It’s three bedrooms, and at first, Mari just buys as many bunk beds as she can fit into the spare room and calls it a day. The kids feel safe in her home, which isn’t too surprising. Everyone thinks the bakery feels safe, feels like home or comfort or whatever else eases their minds.

And Marinette should hopes so. She certainly put enough time and effort and magic and energy into the wards around this place for that to happen. To protect her and the children and all her strays that no one else will help.

But, she eventually amasses too many kids to fit into the one room. Chloé throws a fit about having to share with Mari again—“I had enough of that in university thank you very much”—but she relinquishes easily enough.

Mari buys more bunk beds, and Serrure has taken to sneaking into her room to curl up in her bed anyway, and sometimes the smaller kids who have nightmares will come in and pile on as well.

(There are only a few that Chloé will allow to do the same with her. It is considered a high honor and breeds a playful kind of jealousy that Chloé finds amusing. Mari scolds her for pitting the kids against each other.)

That only lasts them another two months.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Chloé tells her one day before the kids wake up. Mari is at the stove, cooking and baking for a small army while Chloé balances the books. “There’s not enough room for us all, DC, and the only reason someone hasn’t come barrelling down on us about the abundance of children is by the grace of your absurd amount of luck.”

“Well I can’t just kick them out, Queenie! What do you want from me?”

“Either we need to buy more real estate in this city—which I’d rather not do—or you open up the grimoire and start building pocket dimensions. I know you can. I’ve read the chapter.”

Marinette looks at her. “That is such a bad idea.”

They do the idea.

And then Mari adds about a thousand more wards to the bakery, carved into the wood and counter and anything that’s a permanent fixture. Doorways become particularly ward heavy, what with them being the entrances and exits to the hidden realms and children’s’ rooms.

The apartment above the bakery isn’t quite infinite but it gets pretty damn close some days.

This also means, of course, that all the kids definitely know about magic now. Some of them—Serrure—have known about it for a while she knows, but it’s different now. The kwami followed her around most of the time and she doesn’t keep them trapped in the Miracle Box like Fu did, but now that the kids know, they don’t bother staying hidden.

The children, at least, love them and the kwami adore them with all the ferocity a god can give. After Chloé gets over her ‘ew children’ phase, she throws herself into their education (on top of actually running the businesses Mari keeps, mind you). She has the help of the kwami, who act as personal tutors to the children, and it’s not long before the kids start to joke about her being the Principal.

(Some tried to call her Warden, but that joke didn’t last long.)

Marinette has also been telling the kids bedtime stories ever since this started. Old stories of the Guardian and Chosens who fought back the darkness, she shares all she knows of the Orders history with these kids and it’s not until Wayzz points it out to her does she realize what she’s doing.

“Ladybugs are known for renewal. It is no surprise that you are rebuilding what was lost.”

Rebuilding the Order using children was certainly not her intention but, well. She supposes there’s no place safer for her kids than what is shaping up to be the new Miracle Temple. It’s the only haven where they can learn to harness their Gifts and powers, it’s the only place where they can be surrounded by others like them without being thrust into superhero-dom.

Context: about a month into this whole circus, Marinette had realized there was a significant—almost all of them really—amount of metas and Gifted in her little hoard of strays. Which is… odd. Especially with how few metas there are in Gotham.

She had asked the kwami about it, and they have that amused look again. “You are their guardian.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re their guardian. True, you are the Guardian of us, of the ancient ways, but you are a guardian at your soul too. You protect what is yours, and they are yours whether you realise it or not. The children can sense that, so they flock to you.”

And, huh. She supposes that makes sense but that’s also really kind of strange and weird and she doesn't want to think about that anymore actually.

So things are… fine, Marinette supposes. The bakery is doing well, and she has about two dozen-plus helpers running around underfoot to help tend to the customers or run to the store or help in the back with the baking. And every kid of hers has new clothes, their street things thrown out for being too ragged and replaced with something fresh made by Marinette’s own hands.

She embroiders little fairy wings into the clothes normally, because that’s what her cloaked wards look like most times and the kids like it and its technically the logo for the bakery and there’s a million reasons she does it.

It is, perhaps, her first mistake.

(“It was certainly not your first,” Chloé will snark one dayin the future.)

Because now Marinette has an army of magical children learning to wield their powers and not fear them and they’re all wearing what can be considered her insignia and uh oh, it looks a lot like Mari is some sort of up and coming mob boss who uses kids and prostitutes and the homeless as runners. People on the street start calling her the Pixie, start referring to Chloé—her second in all things just as Chat had been her equal—as Wasp, as Yellowjacket, as the Unseelie.

(They cannot seem to pick a name for her, but Pixie is all but engraved in stone. Mari is not sure who coined it, and she doesn't think she wants to know.)

The first time the whole situation is brought to her attention, she punches the idiot who dared even imply such a thing so hard she knocks him out.

Because look. The kids are hers right? And she watches out for the people near her, makes sure the working girls are treated as well as they can be and offers the homeless extra food and a dry place to wait out the storm. She offers her hand and gives them all a place to rest, to eat, to exist without expectations or consequences.

She does that because she’s kind, because it hurts her to see people in need, to see them suffer, not because she’s hoping to gain something from it.

The fact that most of them repay her in gossip or information or bend her ear about the newest goings on in the corrupt elite or filthy underworld is strange, yes, but it’s nice to know what’s going on in the city, she supposes. And one time, Kathy, who works on the corner of Brookes and Gilmore, warned her of a drug raid that saved her an unnecessary trip to the police station so it’s not like it doesn't have it’s uses.

But mostly, Mari doesn't really think about all the information that’s unintentionally or otherwise passed onto her. She remembers it all, because it’s rude not to listen when people talk to her, but nothing comes of normally.

Not until Serrure—now twelve and well versed in the magic of illusions and glamors and knows almost as much about this city as her or the Bats—bursts into the bakery one day and grabs Mari away from the front counter right in the middle of a customer ordering. She should, perhaps, be a little angry at that but Tony, one of the older boys and just shy of sixteen, steps into her place almost immediately, so.

And then Serrure speaks and everything is pushed aside in favour of the next words to fall from his lips.

“Someone took Sophie,” he says and she nearly sees red.

After Serrure, Sophie has been here the longest. She is the youngest of them all, only seven, but oh so clever and kind and while she looks nothing like her, everyone calls her Mini-Mari. If Serrure is her beloved first son, Sophie is her treasured daughter.

She’s out the door in the next moment, storming her way to their base. She has Sophie and a handful of extra kids back by sunset, a little frightened, but no worse for wear. She doesn’t make a big deal out of it, besides making sure that the idiots who dared cross her never do so again, but word gets out.

Soon, her kids and teens and adults begin giving her more than just information, they begin giving her problems. Ones she’s meant to fix because she’s Pixie. She’s safety, she’s protection, she’s the one the people start to turn to for help.

And enter stage left, one Jason Todd who’s all snark and charm and smiles wrapped up in a nice leather bow and tall enough that Mari likely could climb him like a tree. If that was something she wanted, she guesses.

(She wants. She just won’t admit.)

He becomes a regular at the bakery and befriends most of her kids.

Mari’s wary when he first takes an interest in them. They’ve been hurt and a lot of them are still adjusting to being safe and it doesn't matter that this man is hot enough to burn, if he steps even a toe out of line with her kids she’ll make him wish he was never even born.

But, she stops worrying eventually. The kwami like him well enough, but seem to think something’s odd about him—but its Gotham, who isn’t strange?—and both Serrure and Sophie take to him like ducks to water and they’re both good judges of character.

There’s a certain intuition they both have that reminds Marinette just a bit too much about herself and pure magic. Not for the first time does she wonder if they got such strong magic from their parents or if it cropped up in them randomly, fostered by fortune and chance and the magic that’s so deeply seeped into the bones of her bakery it’ll be here long after she’s gone.

And, okay, so she was a little right to be wary because Jason was mostly there to investigate her. Far too many people respect her and are loyal to her and she has a veritable orphanage in her pocket and also Harley and Ivy like her and it just- it doesn’t look good right?

But Jason’s a good detective and it doesn't take him long at all to see that Mari is just as sweet and kind and loving as she appears to be. Not long after that, Red Hood declares Pixie and all of hers, under his protection. She, of course, is more than capable of taking care of her and hers, and the underworld knows this, has seen it, but he does it anyway.

The news, of course, gets back to Mari and she is… confused. Why would the Red Hood do something like that? She’s heard talk of him being sweet on kids, but to claim her? They’ve never even met.

Bonus points for Jason being there when she’s told about it. He kind of raises his eyebrow at her because, huh, that was fast, and then spends the next few minutes talking up the Red Hood to her much to her utter bafflement.

He actually keeps doing that too, talking up the Red Hood. Mari thinks he has a crush on the man for the longest time because of it. Until he reveals he is Red Hood, then she just wants to punch his stupidly handsome face for being such an idiot.

Shit happens from there and things go down and the two spend a couple of months dancing around each other and intentionally and unintentionally ruling the criminal underworld and at one point Marinette definitely punches Bruce and Batman in the face—separately, much to Jason’s unending joy—and she also definitely adopts Duke/Signal as well because that poor boy needs to know he’s not alone.

And it’s just them being domestic and badass and lowkey raising an army of children and falling in love while the kwami and the kids and Chloé are all in the background just yelling at them to get together already!

Which, they do. Eventually. After all the secrets come out and Jason knows about the magic and Order and meets Mari’s other friends, ie Kagami, Luka and Adrien who are all intimidating for wildly different reasons. And Mari finds out that Jason died and came back (which earns him the nickname firebird btw) and that he was a Robin once upon a time but is now Red Hood and oh my kwami it all makes sense now.

Jason confesses like three times via classic Victorian romance novel quotes because he’s a fucking literature nerd but it’s not until he basically spells it out for Mari does she really understand. it’s all very sweet and heartwarming and then the pair duck into one of the empty pocket dimensions they have lying around and aren’t seen for three days.

(No one really goes to look for them tbh)

Chloé definitely teases them about early honeymoons and things but besides the two being even more ridiculously lovey-dovey than usual, life goes back to normal. Or as normal as it gets for them.

And they all live happily ever after the end.

#maribat #jasonette #my typewriter #batfam #crime boss mari #miraculous ladybug #dc #mlb x dc #i was possessed by the need to write this all down #i have so many random ass moments from this au #just scenes taht barely fit together #zero coherency #let me know if yall want that ig #?

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shinidamachu · 3 years

Note

I need some Inuyasha as a great father (more like DILF, amirite?) headcanons, can you help me out?

I'm here to serve!

• It isn’t until they’re happily married for at least one or two years that the possibility of children are brought up.

• At first, they took that time to relearn each other, enjoy their company and make the honeymoon phase last a little long. They did spend three years apart, after all. There’s so much time to make up for, so many catching up to do before they’d even think to throw a kid into the mix. Plus, being a modern woman, Kagome would know how to avoid pregnancy the best her new circumstances allowed and how important that time alone is for a newly-married couple.

• They never actually had the child talk because Kagome just assumed that’s where their relationship would naturally lead to, given her motherly tendencies and Inuyasha’s history of ultimately giving her everything she wants. For his part, Inuyasha knew she wanted to be a mother someday and he'd be lying if he said he never indulged the fantasy of fathering her children. However, he has serious trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that, in reality, Kagome would still be up for it if he were to be the father. He could never dare to ask of her more than she has already given him. Be that as it may, it was not a big deal because it was not a dealbreaker. Nothing was.

• But with time, Kagome would have noticed how good Inuyasha is with Hisui and the Mirsan twins. How his relationship with Shippo had developed from a sibling banter to a makeshift paternal relationship. How people like Shiori and Bunza would look up to him like he was some kind of movie hero. How every kid in the village seemed to adore him despite his grumpy demeanor.

• And Inuyasha would have noticed the way Kagome would look at him whenever he so much as interacted with a child, the way her smell would spike significantly.

• She, of course, was the one to make the first move, jumping him one night, after they had spend the whole day stuck with babysitting the Mirsan children and popping the question.

• Inuyasha was relutant. There was a part of him that was adamant on making her happy and even believed having babies would make him happy too. On the other hand, he was terrified. Terrified of how her body would react to childbirth, of if her spiritual powers would accept his demonic energy. But mostly, about what would happen once the baby was born. The last thing he wanted was for Kagome to go through everything his mother had to go through. Or for another kid to face the same prejudice he did. Besides, he grew up with no father figure whose steps he could follow. He didn’t know how to be a father.

• Kagome assures him that they won’t have a baby until they’re both ready and on the same page, that they have time and that Inuyasha will be a great father.

• Inuyasha believes her.

• Then it is him felling some type of way whenever he sees Kagome around kids. And something deep inside desperately wishes to find out what would their children look like, what would it be like to hold and take care of someone born from their love.

• Finally, he caves.

• Inuyasha wants a big family, considering how lonely his childhood was. Kagome finds it pivotal for their first-born to have a sibling, since she had Sota and their relationship was one of the most important things in her life. That’s why they’d have two children minimum, preferably a boy and a girl. However, giving how dangerous and uncomfortable childbirth can be, especially without the perks the modern era provides, I don’t think they’d have more than three.

• Naturally, Inuyasha relies on Miroku for advice and the latter is more helpful than not. Except for the times Inuyasha asks or says something that makes it way too easy for Miroku to mess with him. Like the time he told Inuyasha that if he doesn’t get Kagome whatever food she craves while pregnant, the baby will be born looking exactly like that food. And Inuyasha believed him.

• And if you thought Inuyasha was protective of Kagome before... oh boy! He’d be almost overbearing, but Kagome would see it as endearing. Most of the time. Sometimes, though, a woman has got to have her privacy. He also becomes more attentive, more gentle, sweeter.

• After their first child is born, Inuyasha gets a makeover of sorts. He’s always borrowing the Fire Rat to Kagome and the baby anyway, so he figured it’d be more practical to just pass the clothes on to them already and get something new for himself.

• It’s white.

• Inuyasha becomes taller, stronger. And often lets Kagome experiment with his hair with braids, top nots... and ponytails.

• Old Myoga is the first one to notice the resemblance. And it’s true. He’s the spitting image of Toga. Former enemies and allies often mistaken him for Toga and Kagome thinks the look on their (and Inuyasha’s) face is hilarious.

• Sesshoumaru does not care for it (I stole this one from @heavenin--hell).

• Inuyasha hates his human nights even more because now his vulnerability also means he might not be able to protect his family as he usually would (Together Changed by @goshinote and @lostinfantasyworlds inspired this one). Plus, the black hair and lack of dog ears confuses the baby, who cries and fusses for a good while until realizing it is, in fact, Inuyasha holding them (this one I saw in an adorable fanart I can’t find).

• But since he needs way less sleeping than humans and he spends the New Moons up anyway, Inuyasha gets a lot of quality time with their infant at night, which allows Kagome to actually get a good night sleep unless the baby is hungry.

• The Beads of Subjugation get dooled and chewed on. A lot.

• A little contest takes place between Kagome and Inuyasha about what the first word of their first child would be, with Kagome going for “dada” and Inuyasha going for “mama.”

• Kagome wins.

• Inuyasha’s fighting style changes. He still says some snarky remarks, but now it’s more to push his opponent‘s buttons down so they would get sloppy than anything else. After all, he has a child to think about and provide for now. He doesn’t have the luxury of gambling with his life anymore. He has a home to come back to and therefore won’t be taking any chances (credit to @born-for-eachother for this one).

• And so he becomes more lethal on the battle field. Pragmatic. Objective. Calculating. Decisive. Cold blooded. Much like... Sesshomaru.

• He had never been more offended on his life than the day Sango pointed this out to him.

• When the kids grow up a bit, Inuyasha and Kagome start to tell them bedtime stories, with the PG version of the story about how the met and defeated Naraku being their favorite.

• Kagome tries to be a reliable and calm narrator while Inuyasha exaggerates the events and the voices, almost always breaking objects of their house in the process.

• After hearing one too many times about the Beads of Subjugation, their child tries to “sit” Inuyasha. Of course it doesn’t work, but he still makes a big deal out of throwing himself on the ground every time they say the word just to hear them laugh.

• The first actual toy Inuyasha buys them is a ball, just like the one he had as a kid, at the same time accomplishing a childhood wish through them and ensuring that they would always have someone to play with.

• Kagome is more protective of their physical state while Inuyasha is more protective of their emotional one (see Fist Fight by @omgitscharlie)

• Inuyasha goes to Totosai and asks him to make a weapon out of one of his fangs to each of their children once they get old enough for it. Not necessarily a sword, just something of their choice and that better fits their personality.

• He would be a just father, doing his best to show no favoritism, treat his children equally and make sure no one felt overlooked or unloved.

• But truth be told, if one of their babies turn out to be a daughter, he would definitelly let her get away with almost anything, no matter how much of a gremlin she is. Daddy’s little girl would have him wrapped around her tiny fingers.

• Life never treated Inuyasha kindly. From a very young age, it was kill or be killed. It wouldn't be too far off for him to think the exact same thing could happen with his kids, therefore he tries to prepare them, to tough them up so they can take it.

• And I believe this sentiment would be significantly amplified with a son, because it would involve the whole “suck it up”, “men don’t cry” and “man of the house” aspect of it. The “it is your duty to protect your mother and sister when I’m gone” too, especially because he couldn’t protect Izayoi himself.

• It’s “tough love”, but it’s love nonetheless. And in the right dose, which I believe Inuyasha manages to nail, it can be very important for one’s development and growth.

• But it’s hard to imagine him being as tough with a daughter. Probably because he sees so much of Kagome on her that the mere idea of seeing her cry simply breaks him.

• Kagome would actually have to step in when it comes to disciplining and saying “no”, because he simply wouldn’t have it in him to do so.

There’s actually a really nice post by @keichanz I reblogged a while ago discussing precisely that, but I can’t find it to save my life (should I start to properly tag my reblogs? No, it’s a lot of work and I’m right not to).

Anyway, that’s all I got for now.

Peace out.

#This ask was actually sitting on my inbox for...#Woof #A while now #And I wish I could say it was a big move on my part to wait and reply exactly on Father's Day #Because I'm just so cool methodic and strategic #But it was sheer dumb luck #LMAO #This was fun by the way #Send me YOURS daddyasha headcanons #Thank you for the patience and for the great ask anon #Inuyasha

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Losing You Twice / 1: If I Hated You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day weekend, and it turns out Y/N isn’t the only one struggling with the breakup. Category: Smut (18+), Angst Content Warnings: Language, drinking/getting drunk, penetrative/unprotected sex (If I missed anything, please let me know!) Word Count: 5,538

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

“My bedtime is the darkest, that’s when I’m brokenhearted. The nighttime is the hardest. It’d be easy, if I hated you.” —FLETCHER, If I Hated You

FEBRUARY 13th

It was Valentine's Day weekend, which sucked this time around. Every year for the past three years Y/N looked forward to Valentine's Day, but that was when she actually had someone to spend it with.

Well, someone she actually cared about, anyway... Whether or not Spencer actually knew it, she did really care about him. She was just stupid and didn't say it when he needed to hear it the most.

And now Valentine's Day was on Saturday and Y/N was still without him. Not alone, but still without the man who'd spent the significant holiday with her for the past three years. Memories of their dates and 'afterparties' flooded through her mind as she got ready for work like a montage, a cheesy love-song playlist she'd found on Spotify acting as the soundtrack.

Eventually she sighed and turned it off, opting for something more loud and obnoxious, and therefore not tainted by Spencer's memory. She applied what was left of her makeup and added a pair of earrings before turning the music off altogether and shoving her phone in her bag alongside her keys and other necessities.

Even though she wasn't emotionally prepared for all the cheesy Valentine's things she'd see and hear and experience throughout the weekend, it was still kind of nice to see that things in the bank never changed during the holidays— Everything in her life was so severely different at the moment, that if Marjorie had somehow decided to throw out all her elaborate decorations for each holiday, no matter how small, Y/N would have thought the world was truly ending.

Speaking of, she was met with Marjorie's brighter-than-the-sun smile almost immediately once she set her things in the breakroom.

"How's my little macaron this morning?" she chirped, Y/N chuckling slightly at the nickname— She brought macarons from the bakery down the street on her first birthday she spent at the bank, and ever since then, the older woman had adorned her with the namesake.

"She's alright, Marj... Better now that she's seen you..."

"That boy still on your mind, hon?"

Obviously Marjorie's intentions were good, but Y/N couldn't stand to think about the situation at all, least of all at work... So, setting her jacket on the rack, turned away so that her coworker wouldn't see the visible discomfort on her face, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and cleared her throat. "So, what are your plans with Geno tomorrow night? Anything special?"

There was a brief pause before Marjorie cleared her throat as well. "Nothing short of our usual dinner plans, my dear. He's been so caught up with work at the Mill lately, I think we're just going to spend the night relaxing."

"Hm," Y/N said shortly, finally turning around and giving her the best smile she could. "Maybe I should take a page from your book and stay in..."

"You weren't going to?"

"No... Britt's been nagging me about getting out there so we're going out tomorrow night. We both haven't been single in a long time, so... Should be fun."

Marjorie didn't look convinced. Either way, she nodded with a smile and walked over to Y/N with something glittery and bright red in her hand— A cheap beaded necklace to clip her nametag onto. She draped it over Y/N's neck and patted her shoulders. "Well, I want you to have fun. And remember that you still have to come to work on Monday. Whatever shenanigans you get into should be reserved for Saturday night only so you can rest properly on Sunday, got it?"

Y/N laughed, thankful for the playful tone in Marjorie's voice. "Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, I joke, I joke," the older woman said with a bright laugh, turning to walk out of the break room. "A little..."

The smile on Y/N's face only really lasted until after Marjorie was out of sight, then she went into her bag and clipped her nametag onto the red beaded necklace with a sigh.

Was she excited to have a good night out with Britt? Of course. Hell, had it been literally any other day of the year, she would have been practically bouncing off the walls with excitement at the idea of going out to a bar, letting men hit on her until she finally let one of them take her back to his place for the night.

But it just felt like it was too soon.

Either way, she was glad that she'd get to see Britt again, after she'd been on vacation for Christmas and New Year's to see her family and only got back a few weeks ago. She'd seen her on Facetime of course, and they met up once for coffee right after Britt got back from her trip, but a well-needed night out and quality time getting ready together was something that had been missing from their friendship for almost a year.

Y/N knew Britt would most likely spend her time trying to hook them up with end-of-the-night dates, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad...

Even still, sleeping alone the night before was probably one of the worst spells of loneliness she'd ever had. It was normal to be sad spending the first Valentine's Day in years away from a significant other, but knowing how things ended between them—bitter and stained with words left unsaid—this time was just... cold.

And that was putting it lightly.

Y/N laid in bed that night, her eyes wide open and staring at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars that adorned the ceiling. They used to give her comfort, but now they just reminded her of all the nights she'd spend with Spencer, listening to him tell stories about the constellations. They were some of the most peaceful memories she had.

And now those, too—those stars that had grounded her pretty much all her life and reminded her of the better days—were tainted by her inability to properly communicate.

She almost thought about taking them down.

But if she was really going to get over him this time, for good, then she'd have to learn to make new memories with the stars. Even if it was painful. Even if replacing those memories and writing new ones over them absolutely tore her soul to pieces.

And, as if that pain wasn't enough, that night Y/N dreamt of him, making love to her amongst the stars in every galaxy, only to wake up the next morning cold and alone.

FEBRUARY 14th

She promptly decided that she hated his guts.

It was Valentine's Day, Y/N was respectfully buzzed, and courtesy of two beers and four shots of tequila, she'd just deleted Spencer's number from her phone.

"I'm done," she said, waving a hand at Britt and shoving her phone in her purse. "He doesn't deserve my wallowing."

"Yeah!"

Britt was significantly the more drunk of the two, resulting in a fit of giggles after gaining some stares from the people around them at her sudden outburst.

Y/N smiled, finishing off another shot and shaking her head. "We need more!"

"More shots!" Britt hurried off to grab them, leaving her friend behind with a half-drunken smile that also only felt half-genuine.

Sure, she decided she hated Spencer's guts, but her heart didn't exactly agree well with that sentiment. Even after deleting his number from her phone, after downing all that alcohol, her heart still ached.

Y/N knew deep down that getting over him was going to take some time. A lot of time... But maybe one night of distraction would help.

So the shots kept coming, and by the end of the night, Y/N was just about at her limit.

Which was near black-out drunk. And when you're that drunk you tend to make decisions you wouldn't soberly condone.

Britt got into a cab, and she begged Y/N to come with her, but she assured her friend that she had someone to come pick her up. Eventually the cab driver got tired of their inability to decide, and when Y/N told him to go, he did, leaving her alone on the side of the street at 1am.

Unfortunately, it was incredibly cold, and she didn't really have anyone to come pick her up. And that's where the bad decisions started.

Y/N pulled her phone out, a long sigh escaping her as she dialed the number by heart.

Would he even pick up? He hadn't answered any of her calls or texts before, so why would it have been any different now? Not to mention it was Valentine's Day Weekend. With her luck, he was probably in bed with someone else. Someone who wasn't her. As she listened to the dial tone repeating in her ear, images of him wrapped up with somebody else—sleeping in the bed she'd slept in many times before—clouded her drunken brain and made her more angry than anything.

Her gut twisted, and she almost hung up.

But then the low buzz of the dial tone abruptly stopped and in its place came his voice.

"Y/N?"

Her name on his lips, even through the phone, was grounding, the anger in her system melting away and revealing a coat of drunken relief.

"Spencer! You answered!"

"Yeah... Are you— Is everything okay?"

"Pff, yeah, 'm-fine. Just really fucking cold."

"You're not outside, are you?"

"Duh, I'm outside... I wouldn't be cold in-side... Besides, I didn't call t'alk bout the weather, I need you t'come pick me up."

There was a brief pause, and for a moment Y/N didn't think he was going to say anything she wanted to hear. She swayed on the sidewalk, shivering and praying that he would throw her a bone, even if she'd regret it all in the morning.

"Where are you?" he said finally, and despite herself, she smiled.

FEBRUARY 15th

Spencer couldn't believe he was picking her up at near two in the morning.

Honestly, he'd initially thought about ignoring her call again, but remembering the day it was and taking note of the time, he figured she was most likely in some type of inebriated trouble.

His instincts were right, of course, but he wished that he could have been wrong. He wished she'd only been calling to drunkenly ramble on about how she missed him or maybe how he was stupid and she never wanted to see his face ever again, because that was normal. At least then he could have hung up after she was done and never thought about it again— it was a normal step in any relationship that helped move things along. They could have gotten on with their lives and it would have all been over.

But of course it was never that simple.

Y/N was never that simple.

He pictured her on the street near some bar, alone and cold and drunk, and of course he would have been the only one she could call to rescue her. After all, he'd been pretty much the only thing she'd ever known to make her feel safe.

Still, he wished he was capable of only giving her a ride home and then leaving.

But again, it was never that simple.

It was easy getting her into the car— that wasn't what he was worried about. Rather, it was the fated moment where she'd ask him to stay after he finally got her tucked safely into bed that worried him. Because it was bad enough that it was Y/N... It was her in all her alluring glory, and he'd never been able to deny her anything no matter how badly he tried or wanted to.

Now add on the fact that she was drunk, and most likely sad on their first Valentine's Day apart, and it was a recipe for disaster.

Even if she'd broken his heart, Spencer still cared about her.

Which is why he inevitably agreed to stay, at least until she fell asleep.

He knew her well enough to know all the ways she'd try to get him under the covers with her, so it was a familiar amusement that settled in his being when he was finally able to get on top of the covers with her underneath. But as he entertained her silly little questions with the right answers until she fell asleep, Spencer noticed something else accompanying that amusement.

Guilt.

And then anger for feeling guilty about her sadness— sadness that could have been avoided had she just gotten over whatever was holding her back and either returned his "I love you" or told him she wasn't feeling the same way just yet.

All she had to do was talk.

He had a right to feel upset about Y/N holding back when he'd been nothing but patient, spending almost every year of their relationship trying to make her see that she had nothing to be afraid of. He'd given her every chance to talk about what she was feeling, whether it was happy or not, and every time she pushed it all away in favor of sex.

That wasn't what he wanted in a relationship, so he ended it. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

So why was he feeling so fucking guilty?

He blamed his good nature and innate need to please people, to make them feel good and happy. But he also blamed Y/N and her adorable drunken sleeping face.

He watched as she slept, willing himself not to forget the way she hurt him. She'd completely stolen his heart and shattered it at the same time, and if he was being honest, she still held some of the pieces. But he couldn't get them back, not if he didn't want to risk shattering her own heart in the process.

It felt like they were tied together by some strong, invisible force that wouldn't break unless both of them broke right along with it.

So... maybe he could afford to leave those pieces of his heart with her. He'd have to if they were going to get out of this alive. Not unscathed, sure, but alive nonetheless.

Once he was sure she was deep in sleep, Spencer quietly and carefully got off the bed and navigated through her apartment, getting her a glass of water and leaving it on the table next to her bed. And because he couldn't help it, he cleaned up some of the clothes that were scattered around her floor, depositing them into the hamper and straightening out a few more things that were out of place.

He looked over at her sleeping figure one more time, sighed, and then left, keeping her bedroom door open just a crack.

***

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer.

Despite his better judgement, he'd plopped himself down on her couch after making sure she was sound asleep, hoping to catch his breath and sort through what he was feeling before he got behind the wheel. But of course, it was 2am and he was exhausted, and he couldn't stop himself from closing his eyes and drifting off.

And now he was sitting up, looking around the apartment through the lens of morning.

Though the curtains were sheer, they didn't provide much light, but enough of it showed him just how familiar the space was. Y/N hadn't moved anything around. The same art was on the same walls, the potted ivy plant on her mantle sat un-watered and withering, and every book and record and DVD on her shelves was in the exact same spot as they'd all been the last time he was there in December.

Meanwhile, after the breakup he'd re-arranged everything. He was so sure that they were through for good this time around that he wanted a clean slate. Not that he wanted to rid himself of her memory completely, but if he was going to move on from the hold she'd had on him, he had to do something...

And yet, he ended up at her apartment the morning after Valentine's Day all the same.

He heard the shower running faintly a couple rooms away. You didn't have to pass the couch to get there, so maybe she hadn't seen him sleeping and he could get away cleanly.

Spencer scrambled off the couch, thankful that he hadn't removed his jacket or his shoes and that he could just sprint towards the door without having to find any of his belongings.

But as luck would have it, the second he took a step, the shower turned off. He had to get out of there quickly, but if he did then she'd definitely know he'd stayed overnight. But if he went quietly, he wouldn't have enough time before she caught him.

Maybe I could hide...

He shook the thought with a roll of his eyes, settling on the clearest course of action, which was to make as quick of a getaway as he could. He'd try to be quiet as well, though the creaky door was going to be nearly impossible to get through without a sound.

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard her voice.

"You didn't think you could spend the night and then leave without saying goodbye, did 'ja?"

The pure amusement in her tone made his stomach churn, and it wasn't unpleasant in the slightest.

Spencer turned and smiled softly, avoiding looking at her completely. "Sorry. Didn't want to bother you."

"You're never a bother."

That sentiment held less amusement and more sincerity, which was what guided his eyes to meet the woman who said the words.

His stomach twisted again when he saw her, exactly like he knew she'd be— wrapped in nothing but a thin towel with near-dripping hair cascading down her back. Her legs were bare and exposed, the towel not only thin but short, which meant that her chest was also practically spilling out of it. Despite the obvious and inevitable hungover look in her eye, there was also a good splash of that mischief that'd always been there— the kind that spelled out trouble.

He needed to get out of there.

"Well, um... I'm glad I got you home safe," he said, clearing his throat. "I should... I should go."

"You sure you don't wanna stay for breakfast?"

Spencer could have sworn she was teasing him, dangling her body in front of him like a meal they both knew he wouldn't be able to resist. But then she added, "I've got everything I need for your favorite omelet," and he exhaled with a small smile, exhausted with his own mind for convincing him that she was out to pull him back in.

Still, he declined. "No, I... I shouldn't. But, uh, thank you..."

"You sure?"

This time when he looked up at her, she was closer. She was gently striding forward to meet him, and he half thought about backing up towards the door until he realized he was already there.

"I—I'm sure. Really."

"But you drove around all night just to take me home when I was drunk, the least I can do is feed you..."

"Eh, it's alright. It's... Nothing I haven't done before."

She stopped then, her eyes briefly dropping to the floor. It was like her whole demeanor changed—just for a second—from the prowess she'd always been, to what seemed to be a woman filled with sadness and regret. It didn't last long though, just enough for Spencer to notice it before she looked back up at him with that wicked gleam in her eye and a remark right at the tip of her tongue.

"Still. I feel bad, making you do all that for me... Especially now."

He wasn't sure what to make of this... It seemed like she was sincere, but she was also alluring, calling to him like a siren leading him to his ultimate demise. And while he'd come to know that as merely a part of her nature, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that she was doing it on purpose.

She was in a skimpy towel, after all, and she definitely knew how to use that to her advantage.

It didn't help that he didn't have the courage to leave. Everything inside of him right then longed to drop that towel and indulge himself once more. Putting aside all the heartache and the differences they shared, all he felt in that moment was the need to touch her— to get lost in her and never be found again.

She was his fatal flaw, and it was painfully obvious.

Spencer knew he shouldn't have stayed longer...

He was over to her in just three strides, throwing off his jacket and tossing it aside before cradling her face with his hands and bringing their lips together for the first time since Christmas Eve.

The small whine in her throat signaled that she hadn't expected it, but welcomed it all the same. The moment she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck, the towel fell to the floor, and there was no going back.

"What about breakfast?" Y/N breathed out once they pulled away for air.

Spencer contemplated, studying her face, seeing the way her eyes sparkled, and decided on the two words that sealed his fate.

"Screw breakfast."

Their lips were melded together almost as soon as the words left his mouth. And it wasn't long before every other part of their bodies were melded together as well.

Y/N helped him take the rest of his clothes off as they danced around the entryway and the living room. Everything was open, no walls separating the living room from the kitchen, so to compensate for the lack of breakfast they'd be eating, they migrated to the kitchen counter once Spencer had off everything but his boxers.

He trapped her against the cool marble of the countertop, her back hitting it solid and sending a shiver up her spine. Meanwhile his hands roamed her body, unsure of where to be other than on her at all times, whether it be her waist, her stomach, her arms, her breasts, or her ass. He wanted to feel all of her, and quite frankly she wanted the same.

She even told him so, in her own way, by bringing one of her legs up and wrapping it around his waist, pulling him closer to her as she wove her fingers through his hair and tasted his tongue with her own.

The action elicited a groan from his mouth, low and desperate. Spencer settled his hands on her waist and gripped it tight, silently telling her what to do.

So she jumped up and he helped guide her swiftly onto the counter. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist again, and he found himself grinding into her hips, urgent to feel every part of her. And thankfully she was feeling rather desperate herself, because she rolled her hips up into him in return, breaking their mouths apart just briefly to speak.

"Fuck me..."

There was so much he wanted to say to her in that moment— how badly he was feeling about keeping her entertained while he was slowly deteriorating inside from her emotional detachment and rejection, how much she frustrated him, and more prominently, how she was so goddamn impatient and that he was getting there...

But all that he could manage was a broken, desperate whisper of her name.

It was all he'd ever known.

All that frustration... All that anger, heartache, passion, and time apart combined beautifully into those few syllables that made up her name and tore him apart from the inside out.

And his hands were just as destructive.

Spencer deftly dropped his boxers to the ground and pushed forward, almost losing all sense of self the moment the head of his dick finally made contact with her cunt. He made his way inside of her and then used both of his hands to grip her waist and bring her closer, their mouths connecting harshly as they found one another once again.

His grip was bruising— not possessive in any way, but desperate, like he had to cling to her for dear life or he wouldn't live to see another day. He held himself inside her, sighing and whimpering into her mouth as she clenched around him. It was so familiar, so comfortable and exhilarating that he almost didn't even want to move. He thought about staying there, still inside her forever.

But as always, Y/N was insatiable.

She wrapped all her limbs around him and held on, rolling her hips and seeking friction in any way possible when she briefly tore her lips away from his.

"I need you, baby, please..."

Even as his heart started to rumble in his chest, well aware of the fact that she still probably didn't love him the way he loved her, Spencer gave her everything. He pulled out and snapped his hips forward again, setting a strong, steady pace that had Y/N's eyes rolling back, and the payoff of hearing her sigh out his name was more than enough to keep him going.

Her nails dug deliciously into his shoulders, the faint sting adding something reminiscent of gasoline to a fire. The flames grew taller and brighter the more he fucked her, and with each gradual increase of volume and intensity, it was a wonder the whole kitchen around them hadn't literally burst into flames.

That's how they always were.

Together like this, so lost in the high of each others' bodies, it was easy to forget the things that made their relationship so hard. It was easy to let all the negativity slip away into the throes of pent-up, well-needed sex. The high they gave each other was merely that— A high...

A distraction.

And while that's exactly what Y/N needed, what she preferred in most cases, it's what Spencer recognized as completely unhealthy, despite his coming back to it every time.

It's also why he dreaded the moment ending. Because once they came down from the high, all that's left would be sadness, regret... Guilt... Their fire burned hot, brightly and wildly, but in the aftermath would lay only a thick layer of deadly smoke between them— hard to navigate, and nearly impossible to breathe in without suffocating.

So they simply burned and burned and burned...

Spencer gripped her so tight he was sure to leave her with bruising. And in turn Y/N dragged her nails down his back and dug them into his ass, her palm laying firmly over the muscles that aided in fucking her into the marbled surface. She whined out curses and moans, and he cried out broken whispers of her name, pet names, and curses alike.

Even once she'd come, he kept going, willing himself to hold on as long as he could. She whined into his ear at the overstimulation. And rather than keeping her legs wrapped around his body, she decided to spread them wide, perching her heels up on the counter as far as she could go and anchoring her fingers through his hair.

And though she might not have had enough orgasms in her to keep up with him, she welcomed it all the same—She welcomed the burn just as much as he did.

Even still, no fire can burn forever.

All concept of time was lost by the time Spencer finally collapsed forward, completely spent and barely standing on weak legs after coming twice. Y/N held onto him tightly to keep him upwards, lightly massaging his scalp with gentle fingers and closing her eyes as she focused on his breathing— the way it fanned over the skin of her bare shoulder and how it sounded, perfectly in time with hers...

It was the most peaceful she'd been in a long time.

She felt him pull out of her, the both of them groaning at the feeling, and a little at the mess it would make.

Spencer gently peeled his body off of hers, sniffing once and avoiding her eyes. "Sorry... You just got out of the shower..."

"It's fine," Y/N breathed. She begged him silently to look her in the eye, but he remained still... Most likely thinking. She could practically see the cogs turning in his brain.

So, in an effort to lighten the mood a bit, she added with a breathy laugh, "Besides... It's nothing I haven't done before."

The callback to his words—and memories of all the times they'd found themselves in this position before—got Spencer to laugh a little, but he still wouldn't meet her eyes.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I'll... I'll grab the wipes?"

"Oh. Sure," Y/N returned with a thankful smile. It was hopeful, too, though the moment he was out of eyesight, it turned rather sad.

She'd known that behavior before, seen that hesitation in his movements and that sound in his voice.

It was guilt.

Regret.

Probably a bit of self-hatred, too.

When he returned, a pile of her clothes in hand and the bag of wipes on top, she took them from him with a kind smile and cleaned herself up while he put his clothes back on.

The silence was more uncomfortable than anything either of them had ever experienced.

So much so, that Y/N couldn't even muster up the courage to ask him to stay for breakfast— and she always did after one of their post-break hookups.

Maybe this time really was different.

Spencer was just at the door again when she stopped him.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was so small, he almost didn't hear it. "For bringing me home..."

But he paused, turned, and finally looked her in the eye.

He almost sunk to his knees right there...

Seeing her, arms crossed like she was trying to keep warm, as her head hung low and she looked up at him through sad, hooded eyelids...

It reminded him of the woman he fell in love with.

But in his peripheral, he saw the towel on the floor and was reminded of the woman who'd shattered his heart.

Spencer cleared his throat. Once upon a time he might have returned her thanks with, Anytime, but... Honestly he wasn't sure there could ever be another time. For his sanity, he'd have to avoid 'anytime' at all costs.

So, he settled on, "You're welcome."

He was glad to see her return his kind smile with one of her own, even if it was tainted with sadness, and a small wave goodbye.

Maybe this time it would stick.

Even still, as he closed the door behind him and made his way to the parking lot, for some reason it didn't quite feel like goodbye.

And some of that deadly smoke that settled in his lungs as he drove further and further away from her apartment was inclined to agree.

***

Neither of them could sleep that night.

While Spencer stared out the window of the jet, a little annoyed to be called out on a case so late but at least thankful for the distraction, Y/N laid in bed, staring at the stars on her ceiling.

The same constellation caught their eye.

Columba.

The Dove.

She hadn't even meant to arrange the stars like that, but one night after a date, they were laying in her bed and Spencer pointed out that the cluster of plastic stars right in the corner of the ceiling looked like Columba.

Y/N fondly remembered Spencer telling her about how it was originally named to represent Noah's dove, which searched for dry land during the great biblical flood and returned carrying an olive branch to make news of its recession— of peace at last.

The memory made her smile. It tugged at her heart and made her dreams of him even more vivid.

All the same, Spencer noticed the constellation outside the jet window and remembered that same night. The smile on her face as he told her the story, the feel of her fingers gliding softly over the bare skin of his forearm...

It was the first night since he'd met her that he thought it.

I love her...

He almost told her then, too, but he was afraid it was too soon. So he refrained.

Looking back, Spencer was starting to regret that— Maybe without that extra time together, breaking up would have been easier. But instead, he gave her more time. He gave himself more time to fall deeper in love with her, and in the end it still wasn't enough.

Now they were both looking at the same constellation, one made of plastic and the other of gas, wondering if their flood would ever recede.

And in the event that it did... Who would be the dove, and what would be their olive branch?

“You know I dream about getting back together in the future, I could focus on you. But if I leave right now, I hope that you don’t find someone that touches you the way that I do...”

***

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