#these scenes both made me cry and they're very good

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR SEVENTEEN

in which you watch a movie about dragons with eddie, but there's something deeper beneath the surface to battle. to train. to tame.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 3.7k+

→ a/n: omg they still haven't slept they're just like me fr <3 thank you for all the kindness and endless patience you have all had with this story, and for sticking around for the ride. deftones scene that has haunted me for months now will be next hour! and the return of the gc! see y'all next week (maybe)

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

17:00 ─────────ㅇ───── 24:00

HOUR SEVENTEEN - 8:00 AM

“Are you crying right now?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Oh my God, you are.”

“I’m not.”

“Eddie, those are goddamn tears on your cheeks-”

“Oh, fuck off!” 

The credits for How To Train Your Dragon roll as background noise to your bickering. 

“It’s okay to admit that you were, y’know,” you coo as you lean across the spanse of both your laps, moving to pinch at his cheek as he leans back and moves it further out of your reach, “It’s a very moving ending.” 

You’d situated yourself at one end of the couch when you two returned inside, while Eddie had seated himself on the opposite end. Initially, you’d been disappointed, worried about that sudden distance. But the distance disappeared rather quickly as Eddie had fully turned his body, back against the armrest and legs spread out of that empty space, and encouraged you to do the same. A messy entanglement of knees and ankles and calves all pressed together, touching at every interval possible. Anywhere your leg could manage to graze his, it was. A plethora of gentle and minuscule touches, all adding up to something bigger – something that still grows in your chest amongst the vines and beneath his waves.

It was the very thing that made this easy. It wasn’t awkward, neither of you seemed uncomfortable given that the last time you’d used this couch, it had been in very delicate and very different circumstances. 

It was all part of being his friend. You were Eddie’s friend. 

“Don’t be so condescending,” Eddie’s scowl is adorable, tugging on every infantile bloom gathered on the greenery in your chest. 

Boundaries. Your lungs and your vines and your bones had found respectable boundaries amongst themselves, and it was finally easier to breathe around Eddie again.

“I’m not!” you shift your legs, sliding your bare skin against that of his flannel pajamas. He’s quick to wrap a hand around your ankle, thumb pressing into the hard bone as if he’s scared you’re about to run from him again. You’re not; you’re not sure how to convince him, but you can’t imagine there’s anything he could tell you now to send you running once more, “I liked the movie, Eddie. It was… it was really good.” 

You’re a terrible liar. You can’t remember half the movie. All you can remember is the way Eddie would animatedly add commentary for you, how there had been a point in the movie the two of you paused for nearly fifteen minutes for him to go on a ramble of his explanation as to why he’d named his bike Nightfury (as if it hadn’t been obvious from the way his face lit up the moment Toothless appeared on screen). All you can remember is how you only wished the movie would never end, so the look on his face would never fade. 

“Tell me your favorite scene,” he demands with a knowing smirk. He knows you didn’t pay attention. 

“You know…” you pause, racking your brain for a single scene to mention, “The… one…”

“Go on,” he scoots his heels back towards him, elevating his knees so he can prop his elbows up on them and cradle his face mockingly, acting completely enthralled by whatever your answer may be, “The one…?” 

You panic, blurting out, “The one with the dragon.” 

You miss the pressure of his thumb on your bones. A physical reminder of his grip on you, not just all mumbled metaphorical ones that now reside in you.

“Half the movie was scenes with a dragon.” 

“The one where he’s training the dragon.” 

That earns a cackle from him. One that pulls from his chest, sends him leaning back from his sarcastic pose and makes him squint his eyes until crinkles appear beside them. You almost consider counting each laugh line, but just as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared. 

“Awesome,” he breathes out, stretching his legs out, bumping them back against yours once more, “So specific. You should really be a professional movie critic, you know that?” 

“Oh, yeah,” you nod giddily, “Feast your eyes, pretty boy. The next Robert Ebert in the making.”

He’s red. Terribly, terribly red. It’s not a surprise he fights fire with fire as he replies, “Sweetheart, respectfully… who the fuck is Robert Ebert?” 

It’s your turn for your cheeks to burn. You’re unsure if he catches it, the flash of sudden shyness at that nickname now. It once sent rage burning down your throat, but you now revel in it. You’d burn for it. 

“You’re killing me here, handsome,” that does the trick – a small squeak sounds off from deep within his throat, and he tries to cover it with a cough, “He was a famous movie critic. My newest role model.”

You expect him to go on with the bit, to force your hand and make you expand on it. Your mind is already reeling with ways to insert more innuendos, more nicknames, more ways to drive him as insane as you already had become thanks to him. It was only fair that you return the favor. 

He doesn’t. 

He’s like a schoolboy, fidgeting beneath your attention. You swear you feel a tremor in his legs that are tangled with yours properly again, and when he grabs your ankle, when he gives it another squeeze and he lays his thumb into that bone again as if he might find a divot specifically worn out just for him, you realize he’s not going to go along with the bit. Your innocent nickname has left him defenseless. Flustered, vibrant pink and crimson red from the bridge of his nose to the tops of his ears. 

Oh, this is fun. 

You move the foot he’s not holding onto for dear life, shifting it too quick for him to stop you before you sharply prod his exposed stomach with your toes, “Earth to Eddie?” 

He jumps at the contact. It happens so fast, you almost can’t keep track of him with your eyes as he’s sporadically jumping up off of the couch, away from your foot and legs and you. 

Oh, that’s not fun. 

“We should watch another movie,” No, we really shouldn’t. “How’s Scream sound?” 

He doesn’t even let you answer him, already rushing towards the entertainment center and dropping into a crouch before the shelves holding some of his movies. His hand moves to his knee, the hand that had once held to your bone, the one that burned a lingering touch into it, and you watch as his fingers start to tap along to a silent beat. 

A clear sign of anxiety. Even if you hadn’t come to observe Eddie and learn his ins and outs over the last seventeen hours, you’d know he’s on edge. 

“What are you doing?” you baldly ask him, in no mood to beat around the bush. 

He’s on edge. All you did was call him handsome, and he’s on fucking edge. 

“What do you mean?” he asks over his shoulder, not even so much as looking at you as his fingers trail along the spines of titles, occupying himself with finding a movie you still hadn’t agreed to. 

You sit up on your knees, kneeling on the cushions. It almost reminds you of when your knees had last pressed into this couch, “I mean, why the fuck did you get up like that?” 

“Like what?”

It’s funny, how easily your previously warm contentment can start to fan into flames of agitation.

“Oh, Jesus-” you cut yourself off, standing just abruptly as he had. You walk with purpose towards him, and he finally turns his face to look at you, “What did I do? Did I cross a line?” 

His brows furrow, “What?”

You wave your hand towards the couch, finally stopping off beside him, cocking a hip to accommodate your other hand that rests on it, “The way you just- we were just sitting there and talking and you just-” 

You just completely pulled away from me. Physically, yes, but I’m terrified it also be emotionally. You pulled away, and it feels an awful like you’re running away. 

All the words you can’t say – all the words you don’t know how to say. 

“You jumped up like I said something wrong,” you quietly finish the thought only half truthfully. It’s better than nothing. It still offers a sliver of honesty. 

“You didn’t say anything wrong,” he remains crouched, looking up at you with big and wide eyes, face smoothing into shock, “I just… I want to watch another movie.”

“I thought we were past that.”

“Past what?”

“Lying.”

His blush lingers and so does the tapping of his fingers, “Why do you think I’m lying? I’m being serious – you didn’t do anything wrong! I just… You said you haven’t seen Scream, and mentioned something about killing, so I thought-” 

“And if I don’t want to watch another movie?” you drop to your knees beside him, and he physically retracts, “See! Jesus Christ, Eddie, be honest with me right now or so help me God-”

“I have been plenty honest tonight, thank you very much,” he scowls immediately. You scoot closer to him on your knees, and this time, he isn’t flinching away, “You didn’t do anything wrong, alright? I… It’s me. My problem, I’ll deal with it. Please just… let me deal with it, okay?” 

“Deal with what-”

It’s your fault, really. You scoot even closer on your knees, you’re ignoring the carpet burn sure to remain, when your balance fails you. One moment, you feel as though you have the upper ground with him and this entire argument, and the next you’re falling forward. 

You’re falling forward, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate to earnestly attempt to stop your collision with his floor. Attempt being the key word. 

It happens slow enough that both of you should have been able to stop it, in retrospect. Because Eddie is successful in catching your elbow, pausing the fall momentarily before he loses his own balance. He falls onto his ass and out of his crouch with a soft oomph, eyes widening comically before he’s collapsing backwards and dragging you with him. Your body drapes over him, cheek pressing into his bare chest, and neither of you move for a second. 

A familiar position. From the first few hours, when Eddie had tried to wrestle his damn porn magazine from you. That warm weight that once rested between your hips now digging into him, ribcages once more pressing together with erratic heartbeats pounding against each other through walls of flesh. 

You don’t move at first, keeping your face smashed into his chest. The perfect role reversal. At least his face isn’t in your boobs this time.

“I…” Oh, it’s painful to hold in your laughter, words choking up as your mouth quivers in the force of fighting a shit-eating grin, “I-I’m sorry.” 

He’s quick to recognize your amusement, “Don’t you dare laugh.”

“I’m not going to!”

“Yes, you are!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Bullshit,” he shifts beneath you, sitting up and bringing you back up with him. His arms are loose around your waist as you slide off of him and sit onto the floor beside him, “Who’s the liar now?” 

Another twitch of your lips, another glare shot your way, “I’m…” He raises his eyebrow in a dare, “Okay, yeah, I was going to laugh.” 

“Fuckin’ knew it.” 

He’s still wrapped around you, even as you sit side by side. Awkward angles and all, he’s clinging to you just as he did on the couch. As if he always needs to be touching you now, as if that line being crossed has made him open his eyes to a million realizations and opportunities. 

When he’s not running away, of course. 

You want to bring it up, reiterate that you’d like to know what exactly Eddie was ‘dealing with’ as he so eloquently put it. But you can’t, especially not when his thumb finds your soft skin beneath his shirt and strokes it thoughtlessly. An instinct. You wonder if he’s even conscious of it, if he even knows the effect it’s having on you. 

Can he hear your heart when he’s this close? Can he hear it’s thunder that shakes your very foundations? 

“I was serious,” you finally speak up, realizing you two have spent far too long sitting on his living room floor and just looking into each other’s eyes. If past you knew you ended up in this position, she would have been disgusted, not fawning. “I don’t feel like another movie.”

“Even Scream?” 

“Even Scream.” 

It’s a hard sentiment to force out, because the idea of getting to sit through another few hours of watching Eddie glow with excitement, to watch his expressions as he tumbles over words of adornment for something he loves and is passionate about, is tempting. But you’re pretty sure if you end up on that couch again, his thumb stroking your ankle as he attempts to keep your attention tethered to a motion picture you could never follow along with sincerely, you’ll just fall asleep. 

Sleep deprivation is a bitch. 

“What do you want to do instead?” he asks you. He makes no move to stand; you don’t either. 

Your eye trails over the entertainment center to avoid his stare, when something catches your eye on the shelf above the movies, “You never did tell me who Deftones are.”

Eddie glances at the shelf of CDs that caught your eye, “You… want to listen to Deftones right now, rather than watch Scream?” 

“Yes. I want you to rock my world with Deftones right now rather than watch Scream.”

“What about sleep?”

“What about it?”

“Do you not want to rest? They never said we couldn’t. Actually, right now, they’re assuming we are.”

Amongst the quick back and forth, you have to bite your tongue. You want to scream, no. No, I don’t want to sleep, because if I sleep, I’m missing this. I may never get this again; I can’t risk this. 

You shrug, and stand as his arms fall from around you. You miss that weight – you always miss the fucking weight of him. Just like a child with their favorite stuffed animal or blanket, you’re growing too attached too quickly. It’s going to be your downfall. It’s going to be your goddamn reckoning once these hours have slipped away.

Even more reason to not sleep. Even more reason to cling to your time with him. 

“No rest for the wicked, am I right?” you force a careless grin and hold out a hand. You silently plead for him to take it, to give you this win just once. 

He stares at your hand, then at you, then back to your hand. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that, right?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh out unintentionally when he hesitantly starts to reach out for your hand, grasping his palm to yours. A sudden burst of confidence overrides your system as you say, “But for these final seven hours, I’m your idiot.”

His grip turns steady and firm. A wicked grin crosses his face to match your own. 

“That you are, sweetheart. That you are.”

—

As it turns out, Eddie’s radio is broken. He tries to explain what happened, animatedly waving around his hands as he pulls all of the Deftones albums he owns and tries to give you the backstory to the night he broke the poor thing, but you just grab your phone and wave it in front of him instead. 

“I’m about to change your life and single handedly convince you to get a smartphone, Munson,” you tease as he takes a seat on the couch beside you. 

You’re sat criss-cross, bare knee bumping his thigh as you open your Spotify app. 

“I do know what Spotify is,” he grumbles, “I’m not completely lost on the times.”

“You still use physical copies of porn. Excuse me for assuming you don’t know what Spotify is.”

That shuts him up with ease. 

He’s completely silent, almost unnoticeable if it weren’t for the warmth radiating off of him and the bounce of his knee beside you. His eyes are watchful, though, as you search up this mysterious band and click on their music profile. 

Just as you open your mouth to ask which song you should play, thumb already hovering over their top song of Change (In The House of Flies), he sticks out his open palm. 

“What?” you question, looking up from where you’d been focused on the tiny screen. 

He wiggles his fingers. 

You know that he’s asking for you to hand over the phone, but you still recall the thrill from teasing him earlier. The rush you got from flustering him, from getting under his skin. 

Maybe you don’t have to shower him with abundant flirtatious nicknames to do that. Maybe, you can pull back an inch or so, lay off the compliments, figure out a new way to get under his skin in a way that makes you both smile until your cheeks burn, laugh until your stomachs ache. 

Instead of giving him the phone, you send your hand out to his and smack it. A punitive attempt at a high five with the angle given. 

“Wha-” he starts, staring at his palm you’d just smacked in gentle astonishment, “I wasn’t asking for a high five.” 

“No?” you bite down on your inner cheek, reeling back in your smile as he wiggles his fingers again, inching his hand closer to the phone. 

This time, instead of slapping at his hand, you smack your hand down into his and lace your fingers together. 

A giggle escapes you as he tries to shake your hand from his, and even as he tries to grimace, you catch the smile he’s fighting. 

“Sweetheart,” he chastises, “Give me the phone so I can show you the damn band.” 

“Ask nicely.” 

He gets his hand free from yours and tilts his head in your direction, raising an eyebrow. You only raise your own brow in return.

“Stop being a brat and give me the phone, please,” he repeats himself in a nearly condescending tone. 

You’re managing it. Aching cheeks, soon-to-be aching stomachs, as you crawl beneath his skin. “Make me.” 

Two simple words are all it takes to finally burrow into him. Literally. You nearly drop your phone when he’s quickly shifting positions, hand no longer be held out for the device as he suddenly dives it into your sides. Your body instinctively curls up protectively, and his forearm is caught against your torso as he begins to do exactly what you had enticed from him. He’s making you.

The asshole is tickling you.

“Eddie!” you screech, no care for how thin the walls of his apartment might be, “Ed-Eddie, stop!”

He’s cackling now between your gasping laughs. Your phone does take a tumble, dropping to both your feet as his second hand joins the torture. You can’t follow the path of his fingertips up and down your sides, only continuing to yelp out as your eyes tear up and you try to fight back. He props himself with a knee on the couch, other leg stretched to the floor as he cowers you into the cushion and your sides begin to ache. 

“Stop it! Stop it!” 

If you really wanted him to stop, you probably could manage to kick him off of you. One slip of a knee or thigh with intention towards his groin, and you’re sure it would send him flying. But you don’t. You let his body cover yours as your forehead bumps against his shoulder, you let him curl back into you and entrap you so willingly. You let that overwhelming scent of boy take you over. 

You let his waves drag you under. You don’t even have to take a breath before it happens; his essence is enough to keep your lungs from collapsing. 

“Stop?” he laughs, fingers momentarily slowing but not quite stopping, “Have I made you yet, baby?”

Your laughs die silently. All the air finally leaves your lungs, and you officially can only breathe in him. 

Baby. 

He senses the change in you immediately. The tickling stops, and he’s leaning back, shoulder leaving your forehead feverish. That’s what it was, it couldn’t possibly be the warmth that glows in your chest from that nickname. 

Baby. 

You get it. Oh, God, you get it. His quick escape when you’d called him handsome. You’d forgotten that this game of getting beneath his skin and bantering with light teasing goes both ways. You’d forgotten he has as much power over you now as you did him. 

Wide, brown eyes meet yours. He’s close enough to kiss. One impulsively lurch forward, and your lips would be back on his. His tongue in your mouth, his hands on your hips, his own hips settled between your thighs – all of this is so, so palpable. And all it would take is one movement. 

You hesitate. And he moves, lurching the wrong way. You almost call out, wait. Come back. 

Baby. 

An echo you can’t grasp onto quickly enough, and it leaves right along with the weight of him. 

He leans down and grabs your phone that had fallen, and sits back down beside you as he clears his throat, “Anyways. Um, where were we?” 

You kissing me. Me kissing you. Us, kissing, here on this couch. 

“Deftones?” you manage to whisper out questioningly instead. You swallow down that desire, a fiery weapon you should probably tamper down anyways. 

“Right. Deftones.” 

He opens your phone, putting in the code you quietly hand over to him without any hesitation. It was all wasted on that brief look, that moment where you nearly had him back in your grasps and he only slipped away again. 

You don’t even care as he deliberates which song to show you first. You think there’s a notification from Steve, a text message in the groupchat, but it’s lost on you. 

Baby. 

You like the way it sounds, you like the way it fits. You wonder how steep of a price you’d have to pay to hear him say it again. 

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#my writing #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #had to cut it off there because deftones makeout session needs it's own moment to shine truly #not edited sorry i ain't got that kind of brain power left in me right now

[bestanimatedmovie]

Choose your favorite!

Vote in the other polls!

What fans say:

The Lorax:

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse:

It had a very big impact on meme culture. And a really catchy soundtrack. Plus it has the silly sexy green man. What more could you want from a film.*

The Once-ler and the let it die song. This movie is glorious.

It is legit the mother of all great animated movies nowadays. From Mitchells vs the machines to the new mutant mayhem movie! The plot is so good and you can really see character development from almost all of the characters, plus the designs are BANGER.

THE MUSIC?? TOP FUCKING TIER. THE CASUAL DIVERSITY? IT ALSO HAS LITERALLY THE BEST SHOT IN CINEMATIC HISTORY (Miles rising after taking his leap of faith)

BRO THE ANIMATION IS SO SICK. The amount of sheer effort put into this movie is insane. The character growth was so amazing to watch and such a great movie to analyze. Best scenes are obviously the leap of faith. Actually gorgeous. And also the scene where aunt May sees Peter b after her Peter died. Her “you look tired, Peter” is just so heartfelt

Where the hell do I even start. The visuals are incredible and the plot is engaging. Every scene is perfect.

This film has EVERYTHING. Humor, action, inspirational scenes, kickass music, absolutely killer animation, an art style that is an homage to comic books, loveable characters, a talking pig, DR OLIVIA OCTAVIUS, I could go on

This is the best superhero movie ever made, the leap of faith is one of the best movie scenes of ever

The animation style is better than all the others, and makes the movie funnier too! The representation is also good, and the romantic storyline isn't too prevalent in the movie. Probably the best animation Marvel has made. My favorite scene is when the villains show up to Aunt May's house -- its my favorite fight scene!

I’m sure this movie’s been submitted already because it’s arguably the greatest animated film of all time. I have a personal connection to it because I saw it in theaters on opening night with my late father, and we both loved it and I still do. The animation is revolutionary and it’s one of the only 3 movies that make me cry.

gsksvbsvsbsvs I love everything about it, I love the animations, the story, the soundtrack also the style of animation AAAAAA its so beautiful its art it belongs in a museum i get goosebumps everytime I rewatch it

It’s just so good. All the characters are amazing and I love Miles dad. It’s hilarious and sparked my love for spider-man. It’s such a sweet movie about finding yourslef and has such a powerful message. I totally recommend it so I’m not adding spoilers, but like. Ohhhh, it’s so good.

Interesting villains, well-developed character arcs, a fresh take on Spider-Man, unique use of animation, funny, good use of multiverse that adds to the nature of the story being told, complicated character dynamics

It's the best animated movie because A: it takes one of the most well known comic characters of all time, kills him off in the first few minutes, and then shows you every cooler version of him. B: Has a large amount of representation in its main cast, considering that they're all versions of Spiderman, and that requires a white guy by default. C: everything in it is so well done I can't pick a favorite scene, but the most iconic is the jump off the skyscraper window.

The animation is incredible, the movie has so much story and heart, and there’s a perfect balance between humor and seriousness. And the soundtrack slaps

This is probably the best animated film I've ever seen. The animation is definitely the highlight, the way they blend comic book art styles and 3D animation is an absolute joy to look at and is so overwhelmingly creative, every frame of this movie is gorgeous. The impact this had on the industry is undeniable, as we start to see more and more movies getting more creative with their animation styles. It's not just the animation though. All of the characters are entertaining, all of the jokes land and the story is really well done. It leaves me blown away every time I watch it.

This movie kind of changed the western animation industry from the ground up. Apart from being expertly written, funny, and heartfelt, it is also stellarly animated, with a unique visual style that takes direct inspiration from the comic books it adapts and mixes 2d- and 3d-animation in a way and to a degree that hadn't really been seen before in western mainstream. Its critical and monetary success paved the way for mainstream 3d animation to open up to new and excitingly stylised movies that were like a breath of fresh air between the generic Pixar-style animation that had been the largely unchanged norm in the industry since Toy Story circa twenty years earlier**. ITSV divides the screen like panels on a comic page, it uses dots and lines for shading and gradients, doesn't shy away from lowering framerates for stylisation, and makes liberal use of onomatopoeia, both to comedic and dramatic impact. Impact frames and SFX are often hand-drawn and stunningly colourful, and even the simple dialogue scenes astonish with an expressiveness and realism in their depiction of emotions that makes me rewatch a two-second scene of Miles laughing fifteen times in a row. My favourite scene has to be the What's Up Danger scene, the emotional climax of the movie. Set to an absolute banger of a song, it is the moment the entire film has been building up to. I won't spoil anything plot-wise in case you somehow haven't seen this movie, but both from an emotional and a visual standpoint it is Fucking Dope. Conclusion: Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse is my favourite movie of all time and I could talk about it for hours. If you haven't seen it, go watch it. Thank you.

Have you SEEN the Whats Up Danger/rising and falling scene? it's a work of art that makes me fall in love with storytelling all over again whenever I see it. Also the impact that it's had on animated film is absolutely being felt at current, if incrementally. Incredible film.

It has an amazing art style based on comics and mixed up due to genre differences. It's really fun and the characters are great, even the side ones. The story line is great and I love Miles and his family.

*Mod note: errr, quite a lot more than memes and music actually

**Mod note: amen

#The Lorax #Spider-Man Into the Spider-Verse #best animated movie #round 2 #tournament poll #tumblr's favorite

[scarletwinterxx]

jaemin dad scenario #2

hellooooooo ~ not sure if y'all are familiar with this audio but I saw a cute tiktok vid earlier with this audio and I wanted to write one about it. plus I've been wanting to write another dad jaemin scenario so here we are😅 hope you like it!!!

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

Jaemin hears the voices from downstairs, waiting for his wife and daughter to walk in the kitchen where he's currently baking cupcakes for Heejin's school day.

"Daddy, we're home"

He turns around to face the two of you, his two girls smiling widely at him. Heejin reaches out for him, immediately getting Heejin from you to give him her after daycare cuddles and kisses

"There's my baby princess, how was daycare today? Did you have so much fun? You didn't cry?" he ask in between kisses on her face. Meanwhile you watch the adorable scene between your husband and his mini me.

"She didn't cry, her teacher told me and she got a star"

"Wah you did? Can appa see it?" he asks the little girl in his arms, Heejin holds out her hand to show the star sticker on the back of her hand

"Wow, that's great! I'll give you a cupcake since you're very good" he promises Heejin, you give him a strict look but you let it slide.

You and Jaemin are on the same page when it comes to raising your daughter. You rarely have any arguments, but there are times Jaemin folds whenever Heejin wants something. Like giving her sweets, or letting her stay up past her bedtime.

You really can't beat the dad-daughter duo, they both know how to make you say yes. One look at you with their round eyes, you're nodding your head to whatever wish they have.

"Also Heejin got something to say" you tell Jaemin, walking towards the fridge to get a drink while Jaemin sets Heejin on the counter

"What is it, baby?"

"I got a boyfwiend" her little baby voice says happily.

Immediately Jaemin's smile changes while you try to hold in the laughter. He looks over at you then back at Heejin

"You don't have a boyfriend"

The little girl frowns at her dad, "I do have my boyfwiend" she says a bit louder this time

You can't help but laugh, Jaemin looks over at you with a glare clearly not amazed with the situation but to you it's very hilarious.

"You don't have a boyfriend" he sternly says, Heejin then sobs then reaches out for you.

You step closer to give her some comfort while Jaemin stands beside you, still not done with his argument with his 4 year old daughter.

"Aw love, what's wrong? who made you cry?" you ask her, patting her hair. The Little Na looking up at you with teary eyes

"Daddy says.. daddy says i don't have boyfwiend" she says in between sobs. At this point you can't help the big smile on your face, your daughter is being so adorable right now.

"But you do have a boyfriend?" you ask her, giggling.

Jaemin playfully pinches your waist, you brush him off while you watch Heejin nod her head "You do? What's his name?"

"Ji-hun" she says with her lips cutely pouting

You laugh again, enveloping her with a hug and kissing her head. Looking over at your husband to see him with an opposite expression on his face, "Yah, they're kids. Just go with it" you whisper

"She's four, she's my babygirl" he grumbles, taking Heejin from you to hold her again

"You're not allowed to have a boyfriend until you're 50" he tells her seriously. To little Heejin, it doesn't really make any sense apart from meaning she doesn't get to be right this time which she doesn't like.

This makes her cry again but doesn't move from her father's embrace

"Boys will make you cry then I have to beat them up then dad will have boo boo's. Do you want dad to have boo boo's?"

"No" she answers, hugging Jaemin quickly. She's always been a worried baby, if she feels like either of you are in danger she gets very anxious and starts to cry. When she was a baby, she hated seeing Jaemin on his bike. She thought he was going to fall.

"Okay then don't get a boyfriend okay? Pinky promise" he holds out his pinky towards Heejin, the little girl sealing the promise

"I can't even imagine how you would be when she actually starts dating" you tease him

"Don't start with me. I'll actually fight them"

You laugh, joining in their hug. Jaemin wraps one arm around you while the other holds Heejin, both of his girls in his arms.

"And I love you for that, but one day she's going be a big girl and would fall in love just like I did. With you" you tell him, giving him a kiss on the cheek

He looks at you, his eyes full of love and adoration like they always have ever since you met. "Well then as long as she falls in love with someone who loves her the way I love you, then I guess I'll be okay. That's still a maybe though, no one deserve our baby girl"

You smile at him, kissing him again this time on the lips then giving Heejin a kiss also on her chubby cheeks "I love you more, both of you. How about we finish baking these then let's have a cuddle night the three of us?"

"Sounds like heaven to me" He agrees, kissing both you and Heejin on the head before he sets Heejin down. The little one getting her standing stool ready to help with decorating the cupcakes but you both know she's after the sprinklers

"After I put her to bed, you and I are going to have a talk" he whispers

"What did I do" you laugh "Mhm, you can laugh now. Just wait until later"

#story #fic #nct #nct dream #nct jaemin #na jaemin #nct oneshot #nct scenario #nct fluff #nct dad #jaemin imagine #jaemin fluff #jaemin au #jaemin scenario #jaemin dad

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

[prev]

Nowadays, Pure Vanilla has gotten used to his sleep fluctuating wildly between turbulent dreams and sleep like the void itself has swallowed him whole. It seems like a game of chance whenever he rests his head down, and neither option leaves him any less tired the next morning.

Today, his dreams are absurd, swirling and spilling into each other, and vividly upsetting in a way he can't identify. He shut his eyes tight, but that doesn't block out the rest of his senses. He can hear begging, crying, shouting, and the scent of something burning and wilted lilies clashes in the air, creating a suffocating smell that winds around him slow. It is awful, but it is slightly less so, now that he knows how to recognise when he is in a dream. More importantly, he has a question, and he is more than aware of Shadow Milk's lingering presence.

"You founded the study of Dark Moon Magic, didn't you?"

It is a soft question, but one that is sure of itself. Instantly, the sounds and smells and sensations that had been plaguing Pure Vanilla disappear. Pure Vanilla keeps both his eyes closed for the time being, just in case. Tonight, his staff is absent like a missing leg, and he misses the added security of being able to look through it.

"Oh, come on! Don't interrupt the scene, we were just getting to the good part!" Shadow Milk's voice responds with frustration, the sound coming from all sides. It is precisely because it comes from all sides that Pure Vanilla keeps his eyes closed, not quite trusting that the shards of his nightmares have been fully swept away. He doesn't want to find out what Shadow Milk could possibly consider to be 'the good part' amidst the sounds of suffering and anguish.

Instead, Pure Vanilla sighs. "It was your choice to stop everything when I asked that, wasn't it? You can't blame me for that."

"Bzzt! Wrong! I can blame you because you did interrupt. It doesn't matter what I did in response, a disruption is a disruption." Shadow Milk declares loudly, voice a little rougher, as if he was daring Pure Vanilla to argue back. But his voice is now only coming from one source, right in front of him, so Pure Vanilla cautiously opens his eyes to check the surroundings.

He finds himself in the library of Blueberry Yogurt Academy, and nostalgia eagerly rears its head within him, somewhat surprised. He's stood beside a littered table, surrounded by the deep blue bookshelves of his youth and the comforting smell of aged paper. The details blur a little past that, some of the shelves lighter, more like the bookshelves in his chambers in the Vanilla Kingdom, leaving it less like a perfect replica and more like a collage made out of bits and pieces of his lifetimes' worth of memories, but it is mostly the Blueberry Yogurt library.

Shadow Milk is across the table from him, tutting when Pure Vanilla takes too long to reply. He leans his elbows on the table, propping his chin on the bridge of his linked fingers. "Sneaky, silly-Vanilly, trying to use me to get out of your funny little nightmares. Very, very sneaky."

"It worked, didn't it?" Pure Vanilla says, a bit stiffly, because that had never been his main intention, mostly because Shadow Milk isn't nice enough for him to think it would work. No, his main intention is genuine curiosity, and that is exactly why he continues to prod. "...You didn't answer my question."

"Because it's a stupid one." Shadow Milk hums back, tilting his head to the side. He tilts it far enough that his cheek is now resting against his hands instead of his chin. "You should be able to figure that out yourself. Didn't I already tell you where my home is?"

Pure Vanilla doesn't answer for a moment, laying a tentative hand on the edge of the table as he tries to squint at the papers across its surface in the dim lamplight. It takes him a second to realise that they're all forbidden texts on Dark Moon Magic, and when he does, he murmurs back. "It's better to clarify than assume, isn't it?"

This time, Shadow Milk is the one who doesn't answer for a moment, instead staring at him with those piercing eyes. Pure Vanilla can feel more around him, behind him, lurking in the shadows pooling in the nooks and crevices and he can't help it – he shivers slightly.

That reaction must be enough for Shadow Milk, because he snorts, and pushes off the table to lean back, kicking his feet up onto the table and right on top of texts, which is already enough to make Pure Vanilla wince. Poor library etiquette aside, the movement is horribly uncanny to watch, partly because he is leaning back onto thin air instead of a chair, partly because he moves so quickly it's like his limbs snap into place, and partly because his smile is stretched far too thin as he does so.

"Of course I did. I'm very talented, you know." Shadow Milk announces smugly, his eyes never leaving him. They narrow slightly, all of them in suspicious synchronisation, and he raises his eyebrows expectantly. "But I must admit, I am crumbling to know why you brought it up."

Whys are always difficult to answer, especially for something as difficult as motives, which can morph and change over time. Pure Vanilla hates lying, but he hates lying in front of Shadow Milk even more, because he seems to recognise every single one and Pure Vanilla doesn't want to give him the satisfaction.

But he really can't admit the core of the matter to his face. He can't admit that ever since he glimpsed the ghost of Shadow Milk's past, he hasn't been able to stop thinking about it. He can't admit that he is actively trying to glimpse it again, and what better way to try and draw it out than with any scholar's pride and joy – their work?

"It's impressive. I, myself, have mastered White Magic over the years, and I certainly contributed to its development, but I cannot claim that I created it as a school of magic." Pure Vanilla explains instead, and it isn't a lie either, just lacking all the details. He fidgets a bit, tugging at his own sleeves, adding quieter. "Dark Moon Magic is forbidden too, so there aren't many detailed sources left on it. I want to know more about its founding."

I want to know more about you.

There is another lapse of silence, and Pure Vanilla is tense with tentative hope. After all, if Shadow Milk was really against the topic altogether, he wouldn't have gone through the trouble of plucking him out of his nightmares.

Shadow Milk's smile is sharp like a knife, clashing with the casual way he folds his arms behind his head, almost languid as he finally muses. "Oh, really? That doesn't sound right. I'm sure there's enough details lying around to get the gist of it. After all, you've used Dark Moon Magic before, so you must know something about it already."

Pure Vanilla flinches back, and it isn't a surprise that he knows about that too, not anymore, but it still leaves him with unstable footing. Regardless, he doesn't let that scare him off the topic, which he suspects is exactly why Shadow Milk said it. "...I've only really used it once, and I don't remember much about what happened. So I may know something, but that something is rather little."

It's a confession, and the truth. His brief tangle with Dark Moon Magic is a complete blur in his own mind, watered down to blinding sensations and a heartache so intense he had felt like he was crumbling. Theoretically, he knows enough about Dark Moon Magic to hold a conversation, but he remembers nothing about it in practise.

"You know who could help you with that?" Shadow Milk asks, seemingly unbothered, but the words curl with open mockery and a smirk. He tilts his head back slightly so he can look down on Pure Vanilla and throws his arms out dramatically. "Our beloved, newly coronated Guardian! She has plenty of experience with–"

Pure Vanilla's heart lurches painfully.

"Don't talk about her!" He interrupts, voice bursting out louder than he expected and panic fluttery in his chest. He doesn't want to hear him tear at her old wounds, even if she can't hear it herself. He knows how vulnerable that cry makes him seem though, and he fumbles to lower his voice to something softer, less shaky. "Don't– please, I'm asking you for a reason."

Shadow Milk giggles, a strange grating sound that climbs higher with each breath, until he is laughing in earnest. He curls into himself, arms wrapped around his middle, and the position looks painful with his feet still planted on the table. Pure Vanilla watches him warily, a little shaken by the mention of White Lily, and wonders if maybe, he was wrong about what he thought he saw in Shadow Milk. He has been seeing more things that aren't there, recently.

His laughter stops abruptly. The stillness that follows is jarring, but doesn't last long.

Slowly – so slowly that it is unnerving, for someone who typically moves as erratically as him – Shadow Milk reaches forward with one hand and plucks a scroll up from the table. He unrolls it with a lazy flick of his wrist, the other end tumbling away over the edge of the table and across the floor. It is a smooth movement, Pure Vanilla notes through the pounding of his heart and his scrambled nerves, a practised motion that speaks of thousands of opened scrolls.

Shadow Milk peers over at the contents of the scroll with an empty, disinterested expression, his legs melting through the table until he appears to be sitting somewhat politely again. The sudden switch to this from his near hysterical laughter leaves Pure Vanilla disturbed, unsure if this is progress or not.

"I wanted to strike a balance between Black and White Magic." Shadow Milk says, his voice a disconcertingly low murmur, almost monotone. While his main eyes remain steadily on the scroll, the rest are eagerly burrowing into Pure Vanilla from all sides. "Black Magic draws from the void, making it unpredictable and destructive by nature, but full of potential. White Magic draws from the moon, primarily, and other celestial sources, making it safer and easier to use, but limited in its purity. If I could find the middle ground, I could harness magic with more flexibility and power but less unpredictability."

Shadow Milk pauses then, his eyes sliding up to stare right at Pure Vanilla, and his lips quirk upwards. When he speaks again, his voice gains a little more character but remains mainly flat, like a poorly-delivered theatrical monologue. "The dark side of the moon was the obvious choice for a source of that kind of power, because it's the natural overlap between the moon and the void. Once you figure out a source for magic, it's simple to find a way to draw from it, and to make it simpler, I had access to the knowledge of the Witches at my fingertips. All I had to do was write everything down, and the school of Dark Moon Magic was born. Easy-peasy!"

Shadow Milk throws the scroll to the side with little fanfare, not even sparing a glance at those ancient texts as they land in a heap of old paper on the floor, uncaring of if they damage or rip. And why would he? They both know this is a dream, and even if it wasn't, he had written that scroll himself.

Pure Vanilla would have cared, dream or not, if he wasn't wholly distracted, reduced to only a wide-eyed blink.

Because Shadow Milk may feign a bored face and voice, as if reading off a report or a particularly uninspiring script, but when their gazes meet, his eyes glitter like shooting stars, sparking with pride and passion and something else.

It captivates Pure Vanilla, the very same shine that comes with a breakthrough for every researcher. It is exactly what he had been hoping to see again, but the sight still leaves him feeling unmoored, even if pleasantly. Intruige and hope swirl within him, and he suddenly finds himself desperate to hold onto this ghost of the past, to make it stay longer and help it spill into the present.

"What does it feel like?" The question comes out before Pure Vanilla can think it through, focused on continuing the conversation before Shadow Milk can pick up his showmanship again in full. "Dark Moon Magic, I mean."

Shadow Milk huffs, a playful grin settling on his face again, and a sickening mix of dread and disappointment trickles through Pure Vanilla as he watches him lean over, crushing more texts beneath his palms. For a scary moment, he expects him to make another quip towards his previous use of the magic, or worse, bring up White Lily again.

He doesn't. Shadow Milk kicks his legs up behind him, so that he is laying on his stomach in mid-air, and cheerfully asks, "How about I show you?"

He doesn't wait for Pure Vanilla to process what he said, let alone reply. He reaches out and ensnares Pure Vanilla's hand, the one normally occupied with his staff, and laces their fingers together. Pure Vanilla doesn't reciprocate the hold, surprised, but only tries a small unsuccessful tug in response.

Shadow Milk's grip is an oppressive pressure, tight but not quite painful. He presses their palms together firmly, and Pure Vanilla gasps.

Magic bursts through the contact, rushing through his jam in a dizzying, warm flood. It is thicker, heavier than the magic Pure Vanilla is used to, thrumming and twisting as if it has a mind of its own, almost scratching at his dough as if trying to consume him, and he can't even concentrate on it because– because–

He can see everything.

Pure Vanilla really, truly can. He can see Shadow Milk's curling smile in front of him, he can see the Faeries having a feast, he can see Black Raisin greeting the moon from one of the Vanilla Castle's towers, he can see Dark Cacao striding through the citadel, he can see White Lily going through her morning routine, he can see his own sleeping body, and places and Cookies he doesn't have the presence of mind to recognise, all simultaneously. He doesn't know what to focus on, doesn't even know how to focus on anything, and his head hurts like it is falling apart.

This is how Shadow Milk has been watching me, he thinks deliriously, the only thought he can manage as he drowns in his sights.

And then, in a snap, he is back in the library with only one scene to see. His vision swims a little at the edges as if it didn't get the message, and he wobbles in place.

Shadow Milk is still holding his hand, but the grip is slightly looser, and the stream of his Dark Moon Magic is gone like a whisper. His grin is sinister and too big for his face, but his eyes still burn like stars.

"Fun, isn't it?" Shadow Milk coos, giddy like it is a shared secret, lifting Pure Vanilla's trembling hand and brushing a kiss to the back that buzzes with Dark Moon Magic. "My very first masterpiece."

Pure Vanilla wakes up disoriented, with a ringing headache and an itch in the back of his hand. White Lily notices his poor state almost immediately when she sees him – wonderful as she is – and she asks if he had a nightmare with that gentle, concerned slope to her brows.

Pure Vanilla adjusts his grip on his staff, leaning against it more than usual.

"No." He assures her lightly, not quite the truth and not quite a lie.

[next]

#oops this was longer than i expected #i mainly just wanted an excuse to wax lyrical about possible interpretations of their magic systems <3 #sm is having the time of his life btw. pv? not so much #writing this is like a tightrope act between pv's idealistic hopes and sm-related psychological disturbance #pure vanilla cookie #shadow milk cookie #shadowvanilla #vanilla milkshake #pureshadow #echo paradox au #the biscuit library

[boojangs]

I need to vent for a second, since people keep asking me for updates. And yes, this is a personal vent.

My life is a mess, as I've said in several of my author's notes on all of my stories. And while I owe absolutely no explanations to anyone or anything for any reason, *maybe* this will put things in perspective for some of you impatient folk.

My grandfather is battling stage four cancer and it's spread in his lungs. I don't have a lot of time left with him, and I'm watching this news destroy my mom and grandmother. I want to see him as often as I can, which is not leaving me with a lot of writing time.

I have to get another biopsy because the benign tumor in my head has grown. My neurologist is worried at how quickly it has amassed, and wants to make sure it hasn't become malignant. You know, that same brain that houses my wenclairs? She could be very ill.

I tore every fucking ligament in my left knee a few months ago, that had to be surgically repaired, and PT for it has left me in immeasurable pain. Another time and energy consumer, keeping me away from my writing. I can't walk without a crutch.

My uncle recently passed away without any warning, and my cousin was just killed in a car accident less than two weeks ago. I've watched both of those losses hurt my father, as they're his side of the family.

And because of all of this, my depression has made a VIOLENT EMERGENCE. It's crippling. If not for my girlfriend and my friends, I wouldn't be here anymore. I am so tired but I cannot sleep. Every new drama takes another piece of me with it. I cry all the time. I try so hard to be strong but man, I'm only a person.

I want to write wenclair. I want it. I think about them all the time. TDWW is 99% finished but I cannot focus enough to write the final scene. I want to have YMU ready for next week. TFT and Pandora will be in there somewhere. I need them, they're my strength. I feel as broken as Wednesday.

I'm human, not a content factory. So many of you have sent such lovely words and support to me, and I'm thankful for all of you. The kindness is so amazing, and I'm so thankful. And I know I shouldn't let the voices of the few overpower the good of the many. But I'm not perfect and all of this has left me incredibly vulnerable, so the slightest negativity has been heavily impacting me.

I'll update as soon as I am able, please just have a little bit of patience. 🩷🖤

#I'll probably delete this later but I'm just so tired right now #boojangs talks #personal #please still love me by the time i come back

[kabuki-draws]

I watched Ridley Scott's NAPOLEON yesterday and it was a complete Waterloo.

Yes, I am a big history nerd with a giant heart for movie adaptation of historical topics. But when I watched NAPOLEON I sat there... and tried not to laugh. It was not only so historical inaccurate, that I wanted to cry, at the same time it was filled with cringe dialogues, red flags and terrible color grading. This whole movie made me so sad yet so angry, that I HAVE to write this review:

(Disclaimer: This review is based on my own opinion. If you enjoyed the movie, it's completely fine. Btw. in that case or if you agree with me, feel free to tell me your opinion. I would love to know!)

First of all: Don't get me wrong, the medium film has its own rules and you can't put as much historical accuracy into a big scale movie as you would into a documentary - sometimes the story needs to be altered to be a good movie. And that is fine. Even if Gladiator is a complete fictional story set in the Roman Empire, I can still enjoy this movie for what it is: A good-written story with great characters, a beautiful score and iconic scenes. With Kingdom of Heaven it's kind of the same - and while the movie cut was very inconsistent, I still kind of liked it. But then the Directors Cut made it a a masterpiece for me.

Funny enough, both of these movies are made by the same person: Ridley Scott. So naturally I thought: Well, Napoleon won't be a historical accurate film, but I surely will enjoy it anyways. Well, ...no. It is not only historical incorrect, it's also a bad movie overall.

To start it short: NAPOLEON clearly lost itself in all the various topics it wanted to tell within a runtime of two and a half hours. It made the whole storytelling very weird and inconsistent, causing the problem, that the audience even loses itself in the questions of when and where. Where is that scene located? When did that happen? And then comes the question: Why is this even happening?

Ridley Scott wants to depict Napoleon as a lover, a military genius, a big political figure, a revolutionary and more. But in the end he tells all of this in the most shallow way possible, which waters down Napoleons personality traits and achievements to a series of small scenes. You never get a glimpse of the "true" Napoleon, who was described as a highly intelligent and charismatic man. In fact, you never really feel ANYTHING about him except that he was a cringe red flag in front of his wife. He just stands there, stares and has very limited dialogue scenes to get a picture of that man. What are his overall motivations? Only Josephine? If so, why is this motivation only vaguely explored?

The whole love story between him and Josephine feels so unnatural and got to the brink of being disgusting. This is particularly sad because I deeply respect Vanessa Kirby and Joaquin Phoenix, they're both stunning actors. I don't know if they just couldn't fit the role or if it was rather a problem of the script (the last one is my guess). Yet whenever I saw Josephine and Napoleon on screen, I felt like acted very stiff and forced. Napoleon seemed more obsessed with her than actual love and that can be a character trait, but there wasn't a chance to explore that deeper. Before the movie entered the cinema, the lovestory between these two was marketed as intense, obsessive, deeper than you could imagine. What the audience got was a few scenes without real conversation, much staring and a bunch of cringeworthy s-scenes. And seriously, these "sexy" scene were the worst. I was so disgusted by them because they were SO DAMN WEIRD. There are no scenes that undermine ANY deep love between Josephine and Napoleon. It felt therefore so off, when they still longed for each other after their divorce.

And let's not start to ramble about the fact that they depicted Josephine ONLY in a somehow sexual way. Yeah, there is that scene where she says to Napoleon, that he is nothing without her. BUT SHOW, DON´T TELL! You never see her doing something instead of sitting there, talking with others or when the plot needs her to have sexy time with someone (not only Napoleon). As a woman myself this makes me so freaking furious, you have no idea. I don't need a marvel-coded super-strong woman with unlimited talents - I just need a female character that is written GOOD and plausible! Make me CARE for her plot and for the plot of Napoleon! Both of them don't even feel like normal human beings because they're like blank pieces of paper with their names written on it!

And don´t make me start to talk about the historical inaccuracies. At first I didn't want to draw that card. Actually, I don't need a historical movie to present 100% facts. If the movie is still enjoyable, it's okey. But even if many people say that the war scenes were awesome, I can only partly agree. Yeah, we have that cool ice-lake Austerlitz battle, but it took me a couple of minutes and a better look on the uniforms to know that Napoleon is now at war with Austria! You get nearly ZERO context to Napoleons battles. Yeah, nice, the scenes look cool - but there is nothing more to it? Is that all you need to show for the audience to care? For me at least, I just didn't care at all and I was very happy when I got out of the cinema. Overall this movie is full of messy non-sense choices that don't contribute to the story. Many moments just confused me and it left me with the question why Scott couldn't simply hire some historians to put together a consistent story. Everyone who read about Napoleons life knows that there are so much cinema worthy moments in his career that would've been so much better than what we now got.

I could ramble about that movie for hours if I´m honest, but I hope this little TED talk was enough to make my statement clear.

In the end, it just makes me sad. I wanted to like this movie, I wanted it to be good. For months I hyped myself up to this, read books about Napoleon, watched the trailer all over and over and talked with friends about how great this movie will be. Now I am just disappointed and frustrated. Oppenheimer was such a great biopic of a historical person that became a great success at the box office - even without great battle scenes. I hoped that Napoleon would push a cinema revolution, that shows people want big scaled films about historical personalities and history topics. But now I just want to forget this Napoleon movie to be honest.

#napoleon #napoleon bonaparte #napoleon movie #ridley scott #joaquin phoenix #vanessa kirby

[thesunfyre4446]

84 years ago i've promised an alicent and rhaenyra post, and i've finally got around into making it.

so book!rhaenyra and alicent is not that complicated. alicent was fine with rhaenyra when she thought that viserys will name their firstborn son heir, and when that wasn't the case they started beefing & despised each other.

the show's decision of making them former friends is actually a good choice. it adds depth and tragedy into their relationship & makes the entire conflict more personal. instead of the stepmother x stepdaughter dynamic we get 2 childhood friends, destined to become enemies.

young!rhaenyra and alicent arc was actually really good. alicent got married to viserys and tried to mend her relationship with an angry rhaenyra. and just when things were getting better the realization that things can never go back to the way they were & they were destined to become enemies = alicent becoming the green queen & the rivalry truly begins.

and that's where... thing got... messy

because in ep 6 we see alicent and rhaenyra fighting. they seem to hate each other & constantly trying to undermine each other. then we get to ep 7 & driftmark, and we all expected that from that moment on we will get book!alicent and rhaenyra rivalry and hatred. but no? all of the sudden, one dinner and they're friends again?

i'm sorry... what?

and then alicent refuses to hurt rhaenyra and her family, rhaenyra's crying over a piece of paper (i was with daemon going "the fuck is this") rhaenyra shocked over alicent's betrayal & both women do not want to hurt each other.

so, you're telling me that after driftmark - after rhaenyra wanted to have alicent's maimed son tortured & tried to get alicent accused of high treason and after alicent demanded luke's eye these women feel anything but hatred towards each other?

you're telling me that alicent - who has spent the entire show believing that her children's lives will be in danger if rhaenyra became queen suddenly goes "you'll make a good queen" (again, i was with otto giving her the side-eye because GURL) one dinner is apparently all it takes to fix 20 years of rivalry and hatred?

and that's the problem. the show doesn't seem to be able to tell the difference between "friendship" and "relationship". rhaenyra and alicent's relationship can still be the center of the show even if they are enemies. even if they're no longer friends. look at magnificent century, hurrem and mahidevran's rivalry is the center of the show & it's very clear that these two women were forced into becoming enemies and that the real villain is the sultan.

hotd wants to force the "friendship" narrative on the show, but they still have to stick to certain book canon events, so it comes off very forced and unnatural. they're unwilling to let these 2 women become enemies, so they take their agency and give it to otto and daemon. otto and daemon are the ones who want war, rhaenyra and alicent just want to go back into being friends :( look at this page from ep 1 that you've prob forgotten all about!

they literally have to sacrifice their agency. because alicent being the leader of the green council & rhaenyra being the one wanting to go to war against the people who took away the crown she was promised doesn't fit the "friendship" narrative. so let's make alicent unaware of everything & rhaenyra doesn't even want to go to war :( it's all daemon and otto and the eViL mEn. it's honestly such a disservice to their characters. they're stripped of their ambition and agency for the sake of forcing their "friendship".

and the thing that truly made me lose hope is ryan saying that "there's still hope".

my dude.

from the first moment we see the girl. from that first scene where they're sitting under the tree - there was no hope. there was never hope. they're doomed.

#hotd #house of the dragon #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #anti hotd

[tc-doherty]

Hey! In your practical writing tips - post you said novels require lots of telling. I've noticed this too when I read, amazing books that tell a lot vs. showing but all advice gears to show and that's what I've been learning to do. Since I can't find anyone that teaches when to tell vs. show and how much tell vs. show is right and why telling is good etc. I was wondering if you could elaborate on this? Why some books that tell a lot are very engaging and others can't keep my attention? I'm so interested to see your thoughts! Thank you.

Like I said in that post, teaching people how to write isn't really my jam so this is less a teaching guide and more just my assorted thoughts on the subject based on my own opinions and the habits that I follow.

I guess what it boils down to is this. You can't really say that either showing or telling is more important in a novel, but the things that you show are perhaps more relevant.

For example, if you describe the morning routine of your character in great detail every single morning, readers are going to get bored. The story will grind to a halt. Yes you're showing us that, which most people would say is a good thing based on "show don't tell", but the information isn't relevant. If you're setting up a fantasy or sci-fi story it might be relevant once or even twice to show us how things work, but not every single time.

Similarly, if your character gets news telling them that someone they love has perished, you don't want to simply say that it made them sad. You want to show us their reaction. What do they do? What do they say? What physical sensations do they have? Are they lightheaded, do they feel out of breath, does their throat hurt because they're trying not to cry? That information is all relevant to the character, the scene, and the reader. If you simply say they're sad, then your story feels too shallow.

Many people might consider dialogue a kind of telling, but really it's both. What the characters say, how they say it, and also what they don't say can show us a lot about who they are as a person, which is relevant information to the audience even if they're simply explaining something that would be considered exposition. But what do your characters actually need to say or hear? And what can you relay to us through something happening in the background, for instance?

And what about the genre? I like to write road trip novels, which means I spend a lot of time showing the minutiae of the journey. That's relevant because the story is the journey that's being taken. But sometimes your characters just have to get from one place to another, and you don't need to get bogged down in it. You can just say that they took a bus or boat or horse or whatever.

Balancing it in any given story is the writing equivalent of "this meeting could have been email". What do you actually have to get together in a conference room to discuss (show the readers in detail) versus what can be summarized in a few sentences in an email? What will make you bored out of your mind if you see too much of it, versus what will leave you lost and confused without it?

And of course just because something is telling or summarized doesn't mean that the way that you write isn't important! Your writing should still be engaging even when you're telling. Pay attention to the words you use, the rhythm of your sentences, the variety of sentence lengths, things like that. If something is pleasant to read it will keep the reader's attention on the page. If the sentence rhythms or lengths are too similar, it becomes "monotone" and causes people's attention to wander.

Something I pay special attention to is that - unless the narrator is subjective or unreliable - I don't tell something about characters in the narration which is shown to be false. Nothing gets me riled up like supposedly objective narration which tells me a character is like so and I should feel like this about them, but then their dialogue and actions reveal that to be patently false and I feel some other way. Of course that is something that relies on the narrator being objective and having access to more information than we do. If it's a POV character who might just be unobservant, overly arrogant, biased, or kinda stupid, that's fine

When it comes to showing versus telling in regards to the background/description...well. I struggle a lot with description because I have almost complete aphantasia and can't visualize things easily. So I cheat! Anything that I describe in detail is something that my POV character is actually paying attention to. The level of detail varies from book to book based on what kind of person has the POV and what sorts of things they notice. And again, that's relevant to the audience because it's information which is relevant to the character. This is also really great way to start building up to any kind of romantic interest, because people do tend to pay a lot more attention to people they're interested in!

I feel like this has gotten really long, so if there's anything that you would like me to elaborate on more or I wasn't clear about, feel free to send another ask! I won't say I'm objectively right (usually lol) but I'm always happy to talk shop.

Hopefully some of it can be helpful to you or at least give you some things to start thinking about. And of course, it's always a good way to start by studying books that you read and seeing what you like and what you don't like and how it's been handled in both.

#writeblr #writing #writing advice #thanks for the ask #I hope I could help :3

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

What made you fall in love with Copollo and how can we angst this with Hypollo?

I had to marinate this in my head for a bit haha

First - What Made Me Love Copollo?

I don't know if I have the words for it, but I shall try! XD

First of all, I do love me some of that simple, satisfying ships that make you smile - ie, Percabeth - but -

But. But.

There's something about those toxic relationships that are so interesting.

And Copollo has an especially interesting dynamic - Commodus is the more toxic one, but Apollo's the one with all the power. Usually it's only one person with both those things but it's split between them (and note: I said Commodus was the more toxic one - Apollo was also toxic. he was enabling Commodus.)

So the dynamic is one reason. But I also just...love their story.

They relate to each other on a level rarely reached. They had a genuine relationship that was more than carnal, or even just affectionate. They loved each other, and I do think Commodus had just as much of an effect on Apollo as Daphne and Hyacinthus did.

I mean come on.

Apollo gets nervous around trees because of Daphne = Apollo doesn't like water because of Commodus.

Apollo describes Hyacinthus as perfect = Apollo has thought of Commodus as perfect.

It's all right there^^^^

And with Apollo, it's like he's caught in this "I can fix him" / "he can make me worse" mindset.

With Commodus, he's been seeking validation his whole life and clings to Apollo's when it's given to him - and his sanity spirals when he looses it.

They're that perfect mix of "match made in heaven" and "match made in hell". They would have worked but they also could not.

It's just. such a tragedy. which FITS because ya know, Greek Tragedy TM ;)

AND OF COURSE THEIR INTERACTIONS ARNUMNUMNUM!!!!!

How they're so very casual with each other in that flashback. Apollo's bouncing grapes off Commodus's nose for crying out loud THEY'RE IN LOVE YOUR HONOR-!

And then. In ToA. urhhhhhh it's so good. Commodus is That Ex with a picture of his ex on a dartboard. SERIOUSLY. and he THROWS KNIVES AT IT.

LIKE COME ON HOW MUCH MORE JILTED EX CAN YOU GET?

"dear heart", anybody? DEAR HEART? REMEMBER THAT?! I DO!!! LIVES RENT-FREE IN MY HEAD!!!!!

also the two innuendos in TDP and TTT are so good like come on Rick you know what you did there

and then. their final scene together. it's just. ARGHURHMMRM

Apollo reminisces on how he used to hold Commodus's hands with love. Commodus is so fucking eager to take a shot at him. Apollo screams him to death like omfg and the last thing - the last thing - Commodus hears is Apollo's pent-up heartbreak.

May I emphasize Apollo's pent-up heartbreak. HIS HEARTBREAK OVER THE LAST FEW MONTHS YES BUT ALSO HIS LIFETIME. WHICH MEANS COMMODUS IS LITERALLY GIVEN A FACE-FULL OF PROOF THAT APOLLO STILL CARED FOR HIM.

Two people in love, and their love going so wrong when one betrays the other - killing them! - and the other is suddenly hellbent on revenge?

It's all about that lovers to enemies, everybody. Enemies to lovers is good and all but what about loves to enemies.

It's so good armnumnum.

GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I LOVE THEM OKAY I LOVE THESE BISEXUAL BITCHES MJHYJUFGH

inhale

exhale

i'm good now. ahem inspects ask angst it with Hyapollo now, eh?

Let's see here...

Well for one Commodus is 100% jealous of Hyacinthus. Like sorry I'm not moving from this hill I will die on this hill you will have to climb up this hill and drag me off it kicking and crying and screaming and clawing you. I'm not moving. crosses arms and sits down pouting

Meanwhile, in the Hyacinthus department, I think Hya would just...not really care? Or well, he'd care about how Apollo took the whole arc but he wouldn't be like "oh no he moved on :(" about it (Poly Apollo is canon y'all i don't make the rules!). more like "bitch you think I give a shit about you?" at Commodus. "YOU'RE NOT WORTH MY TIME!"

I also find it funny if it's this:

this hasn't really turned out as angst but the comedic potential is too good lmao XD

#the oracle speaks #my memes #copollo #hyapollo #apollo #commodus #hyacinthus #the trials of apollo #toa apollo #toa commodus #pjo apollo #pjo hyacinthus #toa hyacinthus #pjo commodus #trials of apollo

[wordy-little-witch]

Brainrot is kicking in, work has me by the throat, I am so tired

Enter: self indulgent sillies

Shanks and Buggy both were kidnapped very often as children - be it by Marines, enemy pirates, Whitebeard on occasion, random ass guys targeting two unattended children, whatever.

They both have gotten so desensitized to it that they don't even get scared anymore. It becomes more "I'm not held here with you, you're stuck here with ME" type of situation.

Buggy is sassy, snarky, rude and sarcastic. Shanks pops in now and again with some completely out of pocket shit that sends Buggy into hysterics. Think that scene from Helluva Boss with Blitzø and Moxxie being kidnapped.

This complete lack of care extends well into their adulthood - Shanks because it's honestly kind of funny that someone had the audacity to try him, Buggy because sarcasm and sass is his defense mechanism.

Enter: Cross Guild.

Marines try an infiltration mission to Cross Guild, but they severely underestimated the organization. Mihawk was off island at the time, so they thought that the biggest powerhouse who could identify them via observation haki was gone. Buggy notices immediately both because his haki is oversensitive and he's gotten scarily good at reading body language. Crocodile, when informed, proposes they give the squadron what they want with interest.

A series of unfortunate events lead to Buggy and some of the crew shackled and in the plaza. Buggy's got seastone cuffs on wrists and feet both, and has failed to mention the mini transponder in his hair piece. The Marines made the mistake of cuffing him behind his back, thinking it would limit his knife skills. They don't know that Buggy's anxiety and paranoia has lead to him having a secret pin in his boots specifically to pick locks.

Buggy then proceeds to roast the men with all he's got while he works.

The others present are both confused and fighting laughter as the commanding officer gets more and more pissed off before he finally backhands Buggy dark enough to split his lip. Then a hand clutches his throat, lifting him slightly. Buggy splutters. The marine grins, a nasty thing, demands Buggy apologizes, complaining about the blood on his white sleeve. Buggy tries to speak and can't from the lack of air.

"Oh," the officer coos, "what is it? Finally going to beg forgiveness?" He loosens his grip just enough for Buggy to get some air, lowers enough for the other to go on tiptoes to get a strangled breath. Buggy cracks an eye open, a smile blooming on his face.

"H-Harder, daddy~"

The Marine drops him in disgust.

No matter what they try, Buggy has a come back. Crocodile is listening in, and Mihawk, upon arriving back, has joined him to avoid the navy presence. They're both a bit stunned, a little intrigued, and mayhap rethinking some preconceived notions of the clown.

Especially when there's sound over the transponder snail, a little clink, thump, a shout, and something wet.

"Well," Buggy's voice carries over. "Who's next? Come on, I haven't got all day, you already made me miss two appointments, you dull Neanderthals."

There's a sound like a sword being drawn, a war cry, and Buggy chuckles. "Ohh. You're stupid, huh? That's okay, Buggy likey dumby~"

Turns out even in seastone cuffs, even in twice as much as a typical pirate or criminal wears, Buggy is more than capable of taking out a squadron. He uses his surroundings to his advantage, fighting dirty and taunting them playfully, much to the admiration of the other's present. One cuff is off his wrist, but three more are still on him, cutting off his powers. He still manages to not get cut until the near end.

Even then, it's because one of the stragglers tried attacking his chained subordinates. Buggy gets a cut to the cheek, mild and harmless, maybe needing stitches, but he's furious. "No no no," he grits out, "You're playing with me right now." A stolen sword sinks into an opening with ease. Buggy leans in close. "Don't you ever fucking touch my children. Understand?"

No response. Buggy shifts the sword. There's a scream.

"Understand?"

"Y-yes..."

"Yes what?"

"Y-yes... s-sir."

Buggy snorts. "I was looking for your majesty." Then he yanks the blad up and out, leaving the body to slump to the ground. He turns to the few remaining. "Well?"

Buggy handles it on his own, the followers are even MORE fanatic, and Crocodile and Mihawk are facing a sudden and unexpected paradigm shift while watching Buggy happily eat a bowl of ice cream, kicking his feet happily and simply vibing like it's a typical Tuesday afternoon.

#buggy the clown #buggy headcanons #one piece #cross guild #cross guild polycule #competent buggy #badass buggy #oversensitive observation haki my beloved

[allyricas]

Moving On pt. 2

part one

3,180k words

The day of the trip to Indy finally arrives and the weather does not reflect the excitement Steve feels as he loads his last bag into the trunk of his car. He knows he overpacked but wants to be ready for anything. He also has a cooler full of drinks and sandwiches along with enough junk food to make anyone sick.

He and Robin had decided to make sure they had plenty of food so they could settle in to their hotel and chill the first night. Robin had an early campus tour and Steve had a meeting with an advisor at the community college he’d be taking his cosmetology courses. They had a packed schedule considering they needed to find an apartment and jobs (together if possible) and the urge to scope out the gay scene. Or find it, at the very least.  

Steve pulled into Robin’s driveway and saw that she’d also slightly overpacked. Two halves of the same soul, the two of them. He got out and helped her load up her bags. She was holding a thermos of something and wearing a pair of Steve’s sweatpants. That’s where those went. He’d been looking for them for a week. Robin had a tendency to steal his clothes which mostly just made Steve feel all loved and shit, so he only complained for appearance’s sake.  

“Rob, my fucking sweatpants. Come on, I’ve been looking for them.” He whined. He truly didn’t mean it all.  

“Shut up, they are my pants now. They look hotter on me.” She laughed, doing a pathetic little shimmy. She was not a morning person. The messy bed head and the large amount of coffee she was inhaling made this apparent. “I am so tired, but really fucking excited. I brought the music. You are banned for the entire drive up and back. I will fucking jump out of this car if you play any sad, pining music. This is fun time not sad boy time.”   

“That tape has Whitney and George Michael on it. It’s not a total sad fest.”  

“Liar. You cry the most whenever careless whisper comes on.” Robin replied viciously.  

“Let’s uh, not talk about that please.” Steve knew he was still whining a bit, but Robbie was mean in the morning.  

The drive up went smoothly despite the terrible weather. Fifteen minutes into the drive, it started to torrentially rain. Thunder shook the car and lightning lit up the sky. Robin did in fact have all upbeat music and refused to let Steve play anything remotely sad. This was good as he was feeling rather happy in the moment. At one point it rained so hard, Steve had to pull over and wait for it to slow down as Robin started hyperventilating. What should have been an hour and fifteen-minute drive took three hours, but time spent with his best friend was always good.  

Navigating the city was invigorating (for Steve) and anxiety inducing (for Robin), but they both could barely contain their excitement when they finally pulled up to the motel they're staying at. It’s a little mom and pop place that Joyce and Hop had recommended. Why those two have a favorite motel in the city, Steve doesn't want to think to much about.

It’s a cute place, white shutters and soft yellow paint with a rustic looking sign that says The Mosey Inn. The rooms were entered from the outside, with parking all around the place. There were plants everywhere and everything had a well-loved appeal. It’s a rather nice little place. He goes in to check them in and there is an older woman at the desk. She's one of those people who radiates kindness and Steve likes her right away.  

“Hello there, dear. Welcome to the Mosey Inn. I’m one-half of Mosey, but you can call me Elise.” She’s smiling softly at him as he walks up to the desk. 

“Hi, I have a reservation for Harrington. For a suite with two queens.” He finds he’s nervous which feels silly. He grew up checking into hotels and dealing with reservations. Usually, it was at swanky hotels that his parents would leave him in before he was old enough to be all alone at home.  

“Of course, sweetie. Joyce and that sweet Jimmy told me all about you the last time they visited for the weekend. I just adore them. Jimmy did some handy work for me and the missus last time they were here. We’re getting up there in age and my Maggie cannot be climbing ladders anymore. I always give them a discount and I like the look of you, dear. I’ll give you one too.”

She’s beaming at Steve like she is thrilled to meet him which is not something he’s exactly used to. He’s thinking over what she said. The missus, her Maggie. He looks around the room and spots a tiny pink triangle on a bookshelf. Oh. This was a safe place. He owed Hop and Joyce dinner because this was the nicest surprise he’d gotten in a long time. He'd definitely be calling Hopper by the nickname Jimmy though.

“Thank you so much, ma’am. I know my friend Robin and I are going to enjoy this trip even more now knowing this is a safe place for people like us.” That felt as close to telling a stranger he was gay he could manage, but it felt huge to say it. It meant something to find this little piece of community with two women who were old enough to be his grandmothers. He felt like he might cry and for once, there were happy tears brimming in his eyes.  

“Please, call me Elise. There’s no ma’am, none of that uppity nonsense. This place is for friends, you understand.” She told him in a voice so genuine that Steve choked back a sob. He handed over his credit card and she handed him two room keys. “We offer breakfast and lunch, usually buffet style unless we say otherwise. There’s a coffee station around the corner and there’s always some sort of snacks next to it. If you need anything just give us a ring. Feel free to come chat anytime. Enjoy your stay.” 

“I think I will, Elise. I’ll bring Robin around to meet you once we’re settled, probably for breakfast tomorrow!” 

_________________________________________

As soon as Steve got back into the car, he excitedly told Robin all about Elise and her partner and how the Inn was a safe place for them. The fact that Joyce and Hopper stayed here whenever they wanted a night or two away from the chaos of their little blended family filled Steve with joy. He knew that they weren’t hateful people, but this was outright acceptance by the adults he respected most in his life. Robin was rambling on about the décor of the inn as he lugged their many suitcases into their room. She just smiled at him as he struggled.

It was cozy with two queen beds and a little kitchenette and a sitting area off to the side. There was a good size bathroom and closet. It was decorated in soft hues of yellow and green with floral bedding. It was lovely and Steve felt immensely at home in this place.  

“This place is so cute!” Steve exclaimed happily, finally collapsing onto his bed. It was comfortable too. “Damn, this is going to be a nice trip. Elise said they offer 2 meals, that there’s a coffee station with snacks and this bed is fucking soft as hell.” 

“So basically, we can save a ton of money and try to eat here most of the time is what I'm hearing you say Steven?” This seemed to genuinely thrill Robin.  

“Absolutely, we can go visit with them tomorrow during breakfast. It’s from 6:30 to 8:30.” Steve knew this was going to cause some mild stress for Robin. This delighted him. 

“Ugh, ugh. For free breakfast and fellow lesbians, I will get up. You might have to drag me though.” 

Steve laughed, delighted at the prospect of waking Robin up in the morning. It was early evening, but they decided to munch on the leftover food from the drive in and relax. There was a small tv, so they found something to put on and got comfortable. The day so far had been nearly free of sad thoughts over Eddie, but it seemed inevitable that Steve would start to think about him. For one thing, Eddie would look ridiculous in the Mosey Inn, although he would thoroughly appreciate the pun. Yet, there was a part of Steve wishing that Eddie was a part of all of this.

Before he’d ruined everything, Eddie would have been invited on this trip without a second thought. If only he could go back and not fall in love with stupid Eddie Munson. Steve worries that falling for him would have been inevitable though. Everything about him made Steve crazy.

The moment he knew he was monumentally fucked was a few months after everything with Vecna went down. Eddie had still been in the hospital, thankfully cleared off all charges with Hopper back in charge. He’d been high off his ass on morphine and smiling at Steve. Eddie had looked at Steve and said, “Stevie, sweetheart—you beautiful man. How come you’re always sitting around here taking care of me huh?” and Steve had known several things.  

He wanted Eddie to smile at him like that for the rest of his life. He really enjoyed being called sweetheart. And the reason he was always hanging around was because he wanted to be with Eddie. Eddie who always lit up with joy when he saw Steve sitting by his hospital bed. All the time they spent walking that line between friends and more, or at least that’s what Steve thought.

He swore there was so much flirting back and forth. Like the time Steve snuck in cheeseburgers, fries and milkshakes from the one diner left open in town and Eddie had told Steve, “All this for little old me?” while literally twirling his hair like a schoolgirl. Or when Steve brought in books for him and Eddie had just clasped Steve’s hand tight and said nothing, just staring intently at him like Steve really meant something to him.  

All misread apparently. It wasn’t flirting at all, just Eddie being Eddie. And Steve had ruined it. He tried not to spiral into his bad thoughts too much but he felt like he always ruined everything. Robin might be his best friend, his platonic soulmate and other half, but it’d been so nice to have a close guy friend.

Eddie had barely been out of the hospital when Steve had driven him up to Indy to replace some of his things lost to the earthquakes. There were better record stores and better thrift stores, and Eddie had very little left to his name. The trailer was gone. He’d even lost his beloved guitar. Steve had never planned on telling Eddie how he felt during that trip, but Eddie has a way of needling things out of people. Something Steve usually finds quite adorable, but not so much when it’s his own unrequited feelings.  

Sighing to himself, Steve sits down by the phone to call Dustin and tell him they made it to the city safely. This means actually calling Mike’s house since the boys are having their weekly nerd fest. The whole group of them are all a little codependent, but after everything they’ve been through it seems reasonable. Unfortunately, Mike nor Nancy answers the phone. It’s Karen Wheeler and she lets Steve know that the boys are all over at Eddie’s apartment playing their little game. That’s exactly what she calls it which does make him chuckle.

He dreads calling Eddie’s place, but he did promise Dustin he’d call. Dustin is already asking questions about him and Eddie. If he’s weird on the phone it will only fan the flames of Dustin’s incessant need to meddle. He dials the number and tries to psyche himself up for the interaction. Maybe one of the kids will answer.  

“Munson Residence, Eddie the Banished speaking?” Eddie’s voice fills Steve’s ear. It’s like a punch to the gut, but Steve takes a deep breath.  

“Is that how you really answer the phone all time or am I just lucky?” Steve asks lightly. Do not make this weird. Be cool. “Or is it just because you’re playing dungeons and whatever?”  

“Ha, Ha. I knew it was you telepathically, so I of course had to answer the phone accordingly. My liege, what can I do for you on this fine summer evening?” 

“You’re lucky it’s cute to be such a fucking nerd.” Shit, shit, shit. Abort flirting. “Kidding, kidding. I called to see if Dustin is still there. I told him I’d call when we got settled.” 

“Rude, I am absolutely the cutest nerd. I’d dare say, adorable even. The fairest in the land, perhaps.” Eddie’s voice had gone low and Steve would bet a hundred bucks he was twirling his hair. What the fuck? “You know, you obviously like nerdy shit considering you-” 

“Hey stop flirting with Steve and let me talk to him, I've been waiting to hear from him all day. We’re in the middle of a campaign Steve. We need our DM not whatever the fuck he was just doing.” Dustin says this all like he knows for a fact that everything he says is true. It’s not.

“Tone, dusty bun. I’m not gay and I wasn’t flirting with Harrington, just messing with him. He’s just so easy to tease. We’re just buddies like that, right man?” Eddie replied, his voice no longer soft, low and sweet. In fact, Eddie sounded hostile. Steve felt his stomach turn. He couldn't even reply.  

“Nothing wrong with being gay, you moron.” Dustin replied firmly. This made Steve smile considering Dustin didn’t even know about Steve yet. He was definitely his favorite kid. Dustin continued on “I mean, we’ve fought literal monsters. Of all things to get worked up over, being gay is not even on the damn list!”   

“I didn’t mean it in a rude way, just saying we were not flirting.” 

“Whatever you say Eddie.” 

“Um, hello guys I am still on the phone.” Steve yelled as the two of them continued to bicker. “I have to go, but I’ll call in a few days Dustin. Bye Eddie.” Steve replied, trying his best not to cry. 

“Wait-Harrington. Steve, I didn’t mean anything by that okay.” 

“Yeah of course, no worries, man. Talk to you later.” Steve knew his voice was emotionless.  

_______________________________

He had to get over Eddie. This confusing back and forth was so painful. Steve didn’t consider himself the brightest, but that felt like flirting. What straight guy calls himself the fairest of the land or adorable to another man? Eddie’s tone of voice was the exact same tone Steve had used so many times to flirt with girls. He knew what flirting looked like. He shouldn’t have started it with the cute comment, but Eddie had most certainly flirted back. He looked over at Robin who was sitting up and waiting patiently for Steve to hang up the phone.  

She looked worried. If his face was at all reflecting how he felt right now, he understood why. The way Eddie has sounded when he said he wasn’t flirting. He told Robin the entire conversation verbatim and he watched her face go through a myriad of emotions. Despite the fact that Robin wasn’t the most tactile person, she threw her arms around him and let him cry all over her t-shirt.  

“Well, I could just kill him. I swear to fucking God. If he’s not gay, fine. But why flirt back?” 

“Maybe he really isn’t flirting. He said he was just messing with me. Maybe we’ve been reading it wrong this whole time!” Steve cried.  

“Fuck that, even Dustin called him on it. He flirts with you all the time. If he’s just messing with you at this point, it’s cruel. Especially now that he knows you’re gay and have feelings for him. I won’t be friends with a bigot.” 

“No, Robbie. I don’t think he’s a bigot. He’s just trying to deal with all this. It’s not his fault I had to go and fall for him. I always fall for the first person who shows me any attention. I ruined this. He’s just...I think he’s a flirty person and I’m just the idiot who thought it meant something.” 

“Shut your whore mouth Steven Elizabeth. That’s absolute nonsense. Eddie is a socially awkward, metalhead D&D playing virgin. You and I both know it. I’ve never seen him so much as look at a girl in a romantic way. He barely talks to anyone he doesn’t know unless it’s to cause a scene. That boy is not a natural flirty person. He flirts with you. He’s either an idiot, a repressed idiot or an asshole. Pick one.” 

“He’s not a virgin, no way. Look at him. Some people go for the whole alternative thing. He’s in a band for fuck’s sake. I bet he’s fucked lots of girls. I mean, he is objectively hot.” Steve argued.  

“Steve!! You always defend him like some sort of rabid groupie, but if that man has so much as seen a real-life titty, I will eat my shoe. He isn’t ugly, I will grant you that one. But please, Eddie Munson is not banging hot chicks on the regular.” 

“I pick that he’s an idiot. I do not think Eddie would purposefully hurt me by flirting just to be all ‘ha-ha, gay boy you fell for it’ when he didn’t even know I was gay until I told him how I felt. I think he just likes to tease me, like he said and he doesn’t know how flirty it comes off maybe?” 

“Dingus. You are in love with him. You are no objective source on the situation.” 

“Can we just... pretend Eddie Munson doesn’t exist for a few days. I won’t play my mixtape. I will try not to mope... let’s just find an apartment and visit your campus and apply for jobs everywhere we can find. It hurts too much to talk about right now.” 

Steve knows he’s lying to Robin. It’s impossible for him to pretend Eddie doesn’t exist. It’d be nice to try though. Instead of trying, he wonders what Eddie’s thinking about back in Hawkins. Is he feeling bad for how he spoke to Steve tonight? Is he also worrying over every little thing he said? Does Eddie even care that what he said felt like a slap to the face? The way he’d said Harrington, instead of Steve. The disgust in his voice when he’d said he wasn’t flirting. At least it was crystal clear that Eddie would never reciprocate his feelings. It feels nearly impossible, but Steve knows he has to let go of Eddie and move on. Two weeks in Indy with Robin should be the perfect way to start trying.   

@koyislosinghismind

@lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring

@dilutedpondwater

@r0binscript

@wheatnoodle

@randomnessbecausewhynot

#somewhat proofread but feel free to point out any glaring errors and i will fix it #steddie #this is as much about steddie as it stobin lets be real #and queer joy and acceptance #angst #eddie is a bit of an ass but he's in a crisis and he will get better worse and then much better okay #steddie fic

[intotheseas]

But like. Ominis and Seb meeting MC's parents for the first time? Hear me out. Seb has nowhere to go for the summer months after the *ahem* incident in the catacomb. So MC offers both Ominis and sebby boi to stay with her for the summer. (Her parents are weird like she is)

Soooo I actually have almost this exact scene coming in a couple chapters in my fic "The Softest Magic", except without the incident and Vera only has her mother, who is the epitome of uber-caring trollmom lol. But I also want to explore how it might have been if Vera's father was alive, mess with some story points, and play around with present tense too, so here you go! Hope you don't mind that I wrote it with my MC and most of all I hope you like it! Please keep in mind I am new to writing so it definitely won't be perfect ahh and I may have run with the prompt a bit lot :) Read here on AO3 or below the break. 3,817 words.

Features: aged up characters (characters are 17), love triangle, but it's not a bad thing, they're just dancing around it trying to figure it out, hurt/comfort, healing, supportive parents doing what they do best, good parents, fluff, some liberties taken with canon (basically made Solomon an absolute arse), forgiveness.

Contains mentions of murder, violence/abuse, HL spoilers, implied teenage romance, small bit of underage drinking, cheese. Not beta read or proofread super thoroughly.

She’s sitting with him in the Room of Requirement, her thumb rubbing circles over the back of his hand. Sunlight beats down on them and it’s almost uncomfortable, too exposing. He’s bared his soul to her - both the brightest and darkest corners, and it’s taking Vera some effort to average the two. She keeps her eyes trained on his hand, not sure how to look him in the eye when he’s crying. Like it’s a little too much, like it’s a boundary they haven’t made the decision to cross yet. 

Which is pretty weird, she thinks, since she saw him kill his uncle just a few weeks ago. Since they’ve shared countless nights together with Ominis, slumped over books, demolishing poachers, falling asleep on this very sofa. The thought shakes her from her weird paralysis and she thinks, fuck it, he needs help. He needs love. 

“Come home with me this summer,” she says. “You and Ominis.” Vera meets his eyes, dead serious. “You need somewhere to go and my parents will be overenthusiastic hosts.” 

He gives her a look, like he thinks this is a trick. He gives her that look a lot lately, ever since…well, ever since the catacombs. Like he thinks he doesn’t deserve anything nice coming his way. Vera gets it, too. You don’t murder a family member, even in self-defence, and come out without some serious issues. 

It’s evident in the way he folds into himself, like a child who’s been yelled at by his father. Vera wonders briefly, how often did Solomon yell at him like that? How often did he hit him? She knows Solomon fought to kill in the catacombs. It was either them or him. 

His voice is quiet, meek. So unlike the brash and charming Sebastian she’s come to know and love over the past year. “You mean it?” 

Vera pulls him into a hug. “What else would I do? Leave you both in that cottage without Anne? Ridiculous. You and Ominis can come back with me. My parents will love you.” She feels him stiffen in her arms. “And no, I won’t tell them what happened. That parts up to you.” 

The wall behind them grates and shifts as Ominis crosses the door’s threshold. “I thought I might find you two here,” he says. His voice is soft, tentative, like he isn’t sure how to say the words, or if he should say them at all. 

Vera releases Sebastian from her grasp and gets up, pulls Ominis close. Sebastian’s situation, from the Scriptorium to the catacombs, has traumatised him, too. His best friend, maybe more than that, slipping into the Dark Arts despite his most fervent warnings, careening down the road to hell paved entirely with obsession and good intentions. Despite all his apprehensions, he’s remained loyal to Sebastian until the bitter end. Vera loves Ominis for it. She loves them both.

“Hey Omi,” she says. “I was just telling Seb this, but come home with me this summer. Both of you. My parents are going to love you.” Ominis holds on to her like a life raft, like she’s the one thing keeping him afloat in the maelstrom of fucked-up their lives have become. 

“You…you’re certain your parents would welcome two extra students?” 

Vera laughs, despite the weird atmosphere. “I’m positive. They always wanted more kids, but Mum couldn’t. They’ll be thrilled to have you.” She leads Ominis to the sofa where Sebastian is still curled into himself, like an old piece of parchment. “I won't force you, but…if you both want to, I can send them an owl right now. What do you think?” 

Ominis sits beside Sebastian, loops his arm around his back. “Sebastian? What do you think? I don’t particularly fancy the idea of spending the summer in Feldcroft…it’s too close to…everything. And my family isn’t even worth considering as an option.” Sebastian leans his head against his shoulder. 

“If Vera thinks her parents won’t care…if I won’t be an imposition-” 

“You won’t,” Vera insists.

“...then okay. It’s not like I have anywhere else to go. You’re right, Ominis, the cottage isn’t an option. I don’t think I could bear being so close to…and if Anne comes back and doesn’t want to see me…” He hangs his head even lower, buries it in his hands. Ominis holds him, runs his fingers through his hair. 

Vera walks over to the table in the middle of the room, scratches down a note. 

Mum and Dad, 

Mind if I bring two of my friends home for the summer? I’ve told you about them, Ominis and Sebastian? They’ve…had a rough year. We all have. I’m giving them all the care I can, but I think some hospitality done Bell style would do them good. 

Love you and miss you lots, let me know, 

Vera

An owl comes in through the open window, hops over to her. She affixes the letter to its leg and sends it off with a few pats. 

She walks over to the sofa and drapes her arms over her two closest friends. Kisses the tops of their heads with all the tenderness she can muster. “I sent them an owl. I’m sure they’ll say yes. In the meantime…I know none of us are okay, but we have O.W.Ls in a month. We need to focus, and you both need to get your mind off of this.” She summons several books and rolls of parchment to the table in front of them. 

They groan slightly, but pull books to their laps, their quiet murmurs filling the air. It’s a step, Vera thinks. On a very long staircase. But it’s a step. 

Two days later, the Bell’s family owl, Button, swoops in through the Room of Requirement’s window, crash landing into the pile of books and parchment littering the table. He’s small and spotted, and terribly uncoordinated. Perfect in his imperfectness, as Vera’s mom likes to say. He hops excitedly on one foot, waits for Vera to untie the letter tied to his leg. 

Vera, 

Of course we don’t mind. Tell them they’re coming home. We can’t wait to meet them.

We love and miss you, too. Good luck with O.W.Ls! Can’t wait to see you!

Mum and Dad

“Well, it’s official,” Vera announces. “You two are coming home with me in a month. My parents say they can’t wait to meet you both.” The first genuine smile she’s seen in weeks graces Sebastian’s face. Ominis shoulders slump, his expression relieved, and her heart feels a little lighter. This is closer to how it was before. It’ll never be normal again, she knows, but they’ll find a new normal. 

A month passes, and day by day, step by step, they find their way toward something resembling peace. The relentless studying helps, takes their mind off of the existential horror of death and loss and replaces it with the existential horror of their futures. A better direction to look in, Vera thinks. 

Their O.W.Ls pass without incident. Vera knows she’s done terribly in History of Magic, but failing that O.W.L is basically a rite of passage for every fifth-year, anyway. They’re all exhausted for a different reason now, a reason that feels earned. Like their naps on the plush sofa in the Room of Requirement are borne out of hard work, not a desire to escape consciousness. 

And all too soon, they’re met with the scarlet train that will take them home. “Home,” Vera reminds them. “You’re coming home.” The train ride is both reflective and jumpy, an anxious energy buzzing all over the compartment. Flashes of blue skies and green fields fly by their field of vision as the train picks up speed and takes them away. Away from where it happened, away from all the daily reminders. And maybe she’s imagining it, but every metre they travel, the load feels a little less horrifying. It’ll never be gone, not completely, but like water smoothing a stone, time makes everything feel lighter. 

Sebastian’s all nerves, drumming his fingers restlessly on his leg. Vera can see the thoughts racing behind his eyes, already knows what he’s thinking. He wonders if he deserves this, if he’ll fuck this up, too. Thinks he might dare to hope a little. 

Ominis is a pool of outward calm, like usual. Vera knows better, of course. Knows he’s concerned about Sebastian, concerned about making a good first impression on her parents. 

She’s nervous, too. Nervous about the unspoken bonds between them all. She loves them both, probably as more than friends. 

No, definitely as more than friends. She thinks they might feel the same way about her, but she thinks they feel that way about each other, too, and probably have for a long time. The entire year has been a nervous yet comforting dance, the steps marked by stolen glances, lingering touches, chaste kisses on the cheek, fingers interlaced, and too many “accidental” nights spent curled around each other in front of the fire to be accidental. Vera supposes it doesn’t need to be figured out right away, as long as they’re all content. 

The smog and odour of London is overpowering as they step off the train and through Platform 9 ¾’s barrier. They’ve decided to floo straight home - no need to make her parents come all the way out here to collect them. A coffee shop nearby provides some sanctuary from the sensory overload, a cheery witch levitating several pots of coffee and tea waves to them over her shoulder as they duck in. “Back from Hogwarts, darlings? Floo point’s in the corner. You enjoy your vacations now!” 

They wave back in thanks and cross over to the crackling fireplace. Vera’s voice rings out clearly. “Bell Residence, London!” 

The vertigo-inducing, oddly squeezing sensation of floo travel is something Vera still hasn’t grown accustomed to, and she’s a little dizzy as they stumble into her kitchen. The pale yellows of the wallpaper and tablecloth deepen in the warm glow of the sun through the window. Her parents look up expectantly, happily. 

Ava, her mother, still in her lime-green Healer robes, immediately stands and gathers them all into a surprisingly crushing hug. Her blonde hair’s in its usual bun and freckles dot across her face like stars as her eyes crinkle into an enormous smile. “Welcome home, loves,” she murmurs. “I’m so happy you’re all here. I’m Ava, and this,” she points over to the man at the table, “is Riley.” 

Riley rises from the table, taller than all of them. Vera peeks to the side at Ominis and Sebastian, sees them shrink back slightly and almost giggles. Her father looks imposing, but he’s even more of a dear than Ava. His ruddy cheeks emphasise his genuine smile, and his curly tawny hair falls in every direction. Vera hugs him tightly, and Riley grabs Sebastian and Ominis, brings them into the fold. “Welcome home,” he says. “All of you.” 

Ava nearly dances around them, levitates their luggage with her wand and leads them down a long hallway toward another sun-soaked room. There are two guest beds set up, plush and feathery, with deep emerald green duvets resting on top. Vera’s bed rests to the left, her duvet a cheery yellow. “Afraid we don’t have a guest room, but this’ll do, right?” She winks, and her eyes dance with mischief. “I’m sure you’re all exhausted from the trip. Why don’t you all rest in here while Riley and I make dinner?” She steps lightly out of the room, closing the door behind her. 

Vera sits on her bed, sinking into the thick duvet. “Well,” she says. “Those are my parents.” I promise Dad is a lot less imposing than he seems. He and Mom are really playful people. It’s just kind of how they show their love.” 

Sebastian and Ominis sit, flanking her, their faces contemplative. They flop backwards, their hands finding each other by habit, fingers interlocking. 

“I don’t know if I deserve this kindness,” Sebastian admits. His brow furrows as he gazes at the ceiling. Ominis leans his head against Vera’s shoulder, reaches with his other hand to place it atop Sebastian’s. 

“Maybe it isn’t about deserving it,” Vera murmurs. “I mean, it’s happening anyway. The kindness. Trust me, my parents are going to treat you like you’re their own. And Mum has an uncanny sense with these things…you don’t have to tell her anything you don’t want to, but I think you’ll find she’s a lot more understanding than you’d think.” 

Sebastian chews on her words, considers them slowly and thoughtfully. “It’s just…I feel like I’ve put enough bad into the world. Why should I accept any goodness?”

Ominis moves his hand to Sebastian’s shoulder and squeezes. “Because people are giving it to you,” he says. His tone is matter-of-fact. “It’s up to you whether you accept it. But if you’re asking me…I think you deserve some kindness.” 

They stay like this for a while, thinking and reflecting. The air between them seems both impossibly vast yet precarious, like a single action could change everything. Eventually they doze, their proximity comforting each other.

Ava’s knuckles rap against the door. “Dinner!” she calls out. The three spring up, their reverie over. 

Riley and Ava are at the table when they arrive. There are thick slices of bread Vera knows her mother baked this morning, topped with generous dollops of butter. Slices of cheddar cheese are nestled beside it, and bits of roasted meat and mashed potatoes send mouth-watering smells into the kitchen. 

Her parents smile, tell them to sit down. The food is immaculate, and Vera senses both Sebastian and Ominis feeling more at ease with the lively chatter Ave and Riley curate. They talk about O.W.Ls, their Hogwarts houses, potential future careers, and all the gossip that Ava and Riley hear around St Mungos and the Ministry. The atmosphere is warm and familiar, and it isn’t long until the family’s pet kneazles are begging for scraps at their feet. 

They end the night with a game of wizards chess, Riley insists he play with Sebastian. It’s a close game, but Riley booms with laughter when Sebastian finally checkmates him, the little chess pieces crumbling into bits and reassembling shortly after. “Seems like our daughter found a smart one,” he says approvingly. His eyes twinkle in that fatherly way, and it’s all for Sebastian. 

Meanwhile, Ava, Ominis, and Vera indulge in a spirited discussion about healing magic. Ominis is ardently interested, shares his plans to become a Healer himself. Ava is over the moon hearing this, leans forward eagerly, wants to know everything Ominis thinks. Her attention’s all for him, like she knows he never had a mother to dote over him like he should have. She probably does know, Vera thinks. She just knows things sometimes, in her perceptive way. And Ominis soaks it up. 

Ava and Riley retire to their bedroom shortly after. “Have fun tonight. Just don’t burn the flat down,” they wink. They crawl into bed together, a bubble of silence hanging between them before Ava pops it gleefully. “So, which one do you think fancies Vera?” 

Riley hums. “Sebastian, maybe? But it’s hard to tell. They might both fancy her.” His face is thoughtful. “I hope it won’t end in heartbreak for them.” 

Ava glances at him, surprised. “You think so? I think they all have a thing going. Sebastian and Ominis, too. They’re such a tight-knit little group.” She gazes at the ceiling, a smile dancing along her lips. “Well, as long as they’re happy. That’s all that matters to me. Times are certainly changing.” Riley murmurs in agreement, pulls his wife close. 

“You’re right. As long as they’re happy. I’m sure they’ll figure it out.” 

At the opposite end of the flat, Vera, Sebastian, and Ominis lay in their separate beds. Awkwardness hangs like a fog above them. No one’s sure how to dispel it. 

“This is odd, right?” Ominis’ voice is quiet, a little unsure. 

“No, it’s definitely weird,” Sebastian answers. “Vera?” 

“Oh thank Merlin,” she sighs. “I thought you two were going to stay quiet all night. “Get over here, please.” 

Sebastian and Ominis crawl under her duvet, and the three curl around each other like cats. Sleep takes them quickly. 

The next morning, Ava and Riley peek in, and Ava lightly punches Riley’s shoulder as they quietly close the door. “I told you so!” she whispers, a wide grin overtaking her face. 

Two months pass in a flash, and Ava and Riley lavish Ominis and Sebastian with affection every chance they get. Ava knows, of course, they’ve all been through something traumatic together, in that way that mothers often know. But she isn’t one to pry. Just to love. 

And as this time passes, Sebastian and Ominis feel themselves heal, bit by bit. The wounds scab over, and the horrors of the previous year begin to feel more like bad memories, and less like recurring hellscapes. The pain dulls, and the hole ripped in their lives by the events in the catacombs is lined with wonderful memories, the edges becoming smoother, easier to bear. 

They’re sitting at the table one night, lulled into comfortable camaraderie by copious amounts of butterbeer and firewhiskey. They finish their third game of wizards chess and a companionable silence settles over them. Sebastian’s eyes dart from Riley to Ava, then to Ominis and Vera. He takes their hands beneath the table and they squeeze back reassuringly. 

“Ava, Riley…can I confess something?” 

They nod, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Anything, love,” Ava reassures. 

“My uncle died near the end of term. Just before O.W.Ls. Um..it was just me and my twin sister with him. Our parents died when we were kids. Uncle Solomon was…he wasn’t good to us. I mean, I guess he was okay to Anne…she reminded him of our mother. His sister. But he hated our father, and I take after him. He…well, we didn’t get along. There were times when he hit me, and there were times when I hit him back in self-defence. I…my twin was cursed, and I was desperate to find a cure for her, even when Solomon forbade me from doing so.” 

Ava straightens in her chair, realisation dawning in her eyes. “Anne Sallow?” she asks. 

Sebastian’s eyes widen. “Yes.” 

“I remember her. We tried everything we could…it was difficult, seeing her like that. I would have liked for her to stay longer, but your uncle, he seemed determined to take care of her himself. Took her home against our advice.” 

Sebastian’s eyes are glued to the wood grain of the table. “That doesn’t surprise me,” he says quietly. “I was so desperate to find a cure for her I went down some paths I shouldn’t have. And it made him angry. But…I couldn’t stop. Vera and Ominis tried to tell me the whole time I was going too far, but…I ignored them. I wasn’t always a good friend to them. But I needed to save her. She’s all I had left.” 

Ominis and Vera scoot closer to Sebastian, wrap their arms around him. “We forgave you a long time ago,” Vera murmurs. Ominis nods. 

Sebastian’s voice breaks as he continues, a hint of the terrified boy he was at the end of term creeping back in. “I did something I really shouldn’t have. I trifled with Dark Magic, with a relic I found mentioned in a spell book. I really thought it would cure Anne. And that was too much for Solomon. He attacked us, me, Vera, and Ominis. At first, I thought he was just trying to stop me from using the relic, but after he destroyed it, he continued attacking us. I…” His voice breaks again, and tears stream down his face. “I think he was going to kill me. And maybe even Vera and Ominis. He kept hurling fire at us and…and,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “I killed him. It was either him, or me, Vera and Ominis. I chose us.” 

He stares down at the table, not daring to look up. 

Ava and Riley stare at each other, horror covering their faces. Vera observes them closely. She can see it isn’t horror at Sebastian, but his situation. The choices a young man felt he had to make. The path he went too far down. The tragic conclusion. 

They close the distance between them and hug him simultaneously. Sebastian cries into Ava’s shoulder, both weightless and burdened. “I’m sorry,” he sobs. “You’ve just been so nice to me and I…I regret it so much! I don’t know what I should have done instead. And now Anne is gone, and I don’t know where she is.” 

Ava kneels down, meets his eyes. “Sebastian…this was too much for you to deal with alone. I’m sorry…I’m sorry you went through all this. Your sister, your uncle, your parents…no, it wasn’t the right idea to get involved in the Dark Arts, but I can understand why you felt you had to.” 

He shivers in her arms. “I’ll never touch them again,” he sniffles. 

“I know,” Ava soothes. “I know.” She looks at Riley. They communicate silently. 

“You’re forgiven,” Riley murmurs. “And you’re always welcome here. That extends to you too, Ominis.” 

Vera’s parents lean back and look at Sebastian. “And we won’t tell anyone,” Ava says. “In the wrong hands, this information could really get you in trouble, even though it was self-defence.”

Riley nods. “I’m sorry people weren’t there for you when they should have been.” He pats Ava’s and Ominis’ shoulders quickly. “I know my daughter and Ominis were, and I’m glad for it, but this isn’t a situation that should have fallen into the hands of teenagers.” 

Healing is slow, and never linear, Vera thinks. But maybe this is a turning point for Sebastian. Maybe the acceptance and love he needed all along can help him get back on the right path, redeem himself in his own eyes. 

A week later, Riley and Ava usher them toward the Hogwarts Express. Ava grips Sebastian and Ominis’ shoulders, her voice firm. “I expect to see you all home for Christmas and Easter, and I expect frequent letters. Okay?” 

Ominis and Sebastian nod. 

Ava continues. “And you treat each other well. And you two treat Vera well. And Vera, you treat them both well, understood?” 

They flush crimson, but nod. 

Riley and Ava hug them all, an all-encompassing embrace that feels like home. Vera hopes it feels like home for Sebastian and Ominis, too. After all, that’s what it’s become for them. Home.

#hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy mc #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy ominis #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy sebastian #ominis gaunt x mc #sebastian sallow x mc #sebinis

[captain-mj]

I would honestly kill a man for more selkie Soap (with the side bonus of changeling Ghost if you would) it's such a good concept I love it

Continuation of this post! Also, yes, I realized after posting that I didn't explicitly say Ghost is a changeling, but in all of the Selkie Soap stuff, Ghost has been a changeling. 

"So. Yes, in a way? Selkie marriage is a bit different."

"Different how?" Soap slipped his coat on, relief flooding through him like his own blood in his veins.

"Well... it's not a contract for one. Both parties don't have to be aware. Your heart just... belongs with him until you can undo it."

"Ah..." So nothing really changed for him. "Understood. My coat is safe with me. I was injured and asked him to grab some things. He... He put it on... Should I..."

"Don't be too harsh on him. A lot of people feel the draw to it. He gave it back which proves he wasn't malicious. You just have to have him let you go."

"Let me go... Yeah. I can... I can do that." Shouldn't be too hard. Just get Ghost to call them friends or something. Some dumb thing that would imply they're not married. Fae rules. Twist a person's word to whatever you want.

"Stay safe out there. Want you to come home to me on your leave."

"I will, Ma. I promise." Soap smiled. "It's nice to hear your voice."

"You should call me more often. Maybe we can talk more about mystery man you have a crush on."

"Ma, he is my superior officer. Nothing will happen."

"He's also your husband." She teased gently.

"How dare you." Soap groaned before talking to her about other things. Unfortunately, being that he was injured, he ended up having to cut the call early, exhausted.

He slept a lot the first day and thanks to his coat, it was pretty nice sleep. Except for the fact that it made him dream of Ghost.

Every.

Fucking.

Dream.

It had to be the magic spouse thing going on because his dreams never made sense before. The first started normal for him, weird discombobulated scenes that barely strung together and then... Ghost entered. He held his hand and they talked like normal.

Soap couldn't get dream Ghost's laughter out of his head. Despite all their jokes, he had only ever gotten a huff out of him. He didn't think it was because he wasn't funny, he was and he leaned into Ghost's shitty humor so he knew it wasn't that, but just because Ghost didn't laugh. Ghost also didn't cry. He didn't show his face. All known and accepted facts.

The second dream started off weird. He didn't dream of being in the ocean often. But there he was! Normal selkie behavior, craving the sea.

And there Ghost fucking was. in the water with him. Dark eyes that reminded him of the fucking deep staring at him. Even in his dreams, Ghost wore that stupid skull mask.

And that led him to the one he just had. Ghost's mouth on his neck, hand in his pants. He was in the medbay, trying very hard to ignore that he was harder than he had been in months from that simple of a dream.

Fucking hell. That goddamn idiot just had to put on his coat. Had to bind them together like this.

He thought of him and tried to stay mad but it was difficult. Ghost really didn't know and he gave it back and...

Soap groaned in frustration. He needed to get out of the hospital and unmarried.

"Johnny?"

Speak of the devil.

"Ghost." He smiled at him instinctively. “What are you doing here again?”

Ghost stared at him for a minute before shrugging. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Everything alright, LT?”

Ghost looked around the med bay. “Yeah. I’m good.” He sat down, body barely fitting in the chair. 

Soap watched him for a minute before relaxing into his bed. He didn’t feel tired now plus he was worried about what dreams he’d get now that Ghost was there to observe them.

“Am I dreaming?” Soap asked out loud, glancing at Ghost.

“No.” Ghost laughed and closed his eyes, head tilting back. “I got bored. Nothing to do in this fucking place.”

“So you come to me?”

“Yeah, guess I did.” Ghost glanced at him, head tilting. Soap felt a twinge of frustration. No matter how closely he looked at Ghost, his eyes never looked the same. Always switching from brown to blue and back again.

“Do you wear contacts?”

“What? No. Why the fuck do you think that?”

“Your eyes change.”

“It’s called lighting.” Simon said it deadpan, but Soap could see the smallest shaking of his shoulders like he was laughing. 

Soap smiled. “What kind of car does a sheep like to drive?”

“What’s that, Johnny?”

“A lamborghini.” Soap sat up, wincing. Ghost leaned over and helped him up, readjusting him against the pillows. He tried very hard to tell himself anyone would help someone who was hurt, but Ghost didn’t usually go to the medbay at all, let alone help. 

“When I was on leave last time, I got so bored I took fencing.” Ghost said to him quietly, like he was telling a secret.

“Really?” Ghost being a sword fighter sounded a little too much. Guy was already an expert at almost everything else.

“Yeah my neighbors keep demanding I give it back.” His eyes met Johnny’s before he burst into laughter, wincing when it made his leg move. 

“Christ, Lt. That was especially bad.” He smiled at him. He noticed his hands. “You’re still wearing your gloves. That cold in here?”

“No. I don’t get cold easily.” 

“Then why do you wear all the layers?” Johnny knew the answer already.

“Don’t want to be seen.” Ghost glanced at him, tilting his head. They stared at each other for a while. 

Yeah, nothing really changed. Ghost had a stranglehold on his heart already, didn’t need the coat for it. He averted his gaze and started talking about football. It was an easy subject, he knew Ghost watched games when on leave and thanks to playing in highschool, he knew the ins and outs enough to impress anyone. 

“You play sports in high school?” In Soap’s head, Ghost must’ve. Tall guy with broad shoulders? Every coach would’ve been fighting to get him. 

“No.” 

“What did you do?”

“Worked as soon as I could.” Ghost answered honestly. “Didn’t have time for stuff like that.” 

Soap frowned, going to change the subject before it hit him that Ghost just freely answered something about himself. He trudged on. “Did you like school?”

“Yeah. It was better than home at least.” 

“Have any siblings that stuck around?”

Wrong question. Ghost got up. “I should let you sleep. It’s late.”

“Wait, Simon.” Soap went to apologize, but Ghost looked at him and he shut up immediately. Not because Ghost scared him, but the way his eyes looked. Sliver of gold around his pupil that disappeared as soon as Soap saw it. “Goodnight, sir.”

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

Soap took a deep breath when he was gone. So Ghost wasn’t human either. From the way he acted, Soap was still pretty sure he didn’t know he was a selkie, he still believed their marriage was accidental. But this did make everything quiet a bit more interesting. 

#Johnny Soap Mactavish #Simon Ghost Riley #Soap Cod #Ghost COD #Soapghost #Ghostsoap #Soap x Ghost #Ghost x Soap #Macriley #Call of Duty #Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2 #Selkie Soap #changeling ghost

[teambyler]

"Byler Endgame, One Episode at a Time" - s5e6

Plot beats and scenes leading to a Byler endgame, one episode at a time, for Season 5 of Stranger Things. (This is just for fun! I have no insider knowledge!)

Also see Part 0, where I explain what I think a Byler Endgame has to address. Link to the previous episode.

s5e6

Some time after Mike and Will realize their feelings for each other, the other members of the party arrive at Hopper’s cabin. El is out front and shushes them with a finger to her lips. She quietly opens the door and everyone sees Mike and Will embracing, asleep, tears clearing tracks through the grime on their faces. Everyone is pleasantly surprised. Joyce thinks they're so adorable and immediately wants to walk in, but El stops her. They all wait outside. El gently wakes the two of them and everyone openly arrives a few minutes later. They take Will to the hospital for his arm.

The next night, back at the Wheeler house, Mike and Will are hanging out. Will can’t play Nintendo with his bad arm, but Will is telling what to do as he plays Final Fantasy. They name their party after the four original members of their group. Mike: “I like this.” “Like what?” “Just hanging out…” “Well we’ve always hung out.” “That’s the thing. We never... I never told how you feel.” He talks about how wrapped up in El he was, so he could hide from his own feelings. The year Will was away, he tried to call more but the phone was always busy. He thought Will had moved on, had made a painting for a girl. Will: "Well, I could have reached out more too." A pause. Will: “It’s sad that we lost so much time…” They linger a while on this thought. Mike turns to Will with determination. “I’ll make it up to you Will. Or I’ll try.” They should do something together tomorrow night. Will smiles: “Are you asking me out on a date?” Mike stands up and extends out his hand in a medieval bow: “May I?” Will stands: “Oh yes, my paladin.” and kisses Mike on the cheek. Mike playfully touches the spot Will kissed like he's just been kissed by a rock star.

Afterward, Mike goes to his room and digs out some old things. We see some of the toys he decided not to throw away in s2. He looks at one of them in particularly fondly, and sets it aside.

The next morning, Ted is already gone. Karen has made pancakes and eggs, and she is on the phone talking with Joyce. Mike and Will reach for the syrup at the same time and touch hands, and they both look at each other slowly let go. Mike: “You can’t open it anyway.” Will laughs: “That’s for sure.” Mike opens the bottle and pours syrup on Will’s eggs. Will is blushing and smiling. We zoom in on Karen who sees this all take place…

At school the next day, Dustin and Lucas tell them they need to have an "emergency party meeting.” In private, they tell them “We know” and before Mike and Will can protest they say it’s totally cool and it’s a beautiful thing. In their party they stand up for each other, full stop. They always have, and always will. Will: "I wasn't sure..." Dustin: "We've gone through hell together, saved each other's lives. Are you kidding?" Lucas holds out his hand for a handshake. Will skips that and just hugs Lucas. The others join in, and the four of them share a long group embrace.

After school, Mike asks his mom if she has a good box for giving a gift, about “yay tall” (demonstrates with his hands). She says sure: “Who is it for?” Mike hesitates... Karen: “Is it for Will?” There’s a look of fear in his eyes. She sees his reaction and doesn’t push it. She finds an old gift box she had saved. While she is looking, she has a tender look on her face. She finds a good box and hands it to him. She puts her hands on his shoulders and looks him in the eyes. “I think Will is a very nice boy.” Mike looks shocked, then relieved. He starts to cry. She hugs him: “I told you, you never have to hide anything from me. I'm your mom, MIke! I love you.” Mike nods through tears. “Does dad know?” “No…” They hold each other. She gives him an encouraging nod, and he takes the box.

Mike presents the gift box to Will, and he expectantly watches him take off the lid. Will recognizes Mike's old teddy bear. “Aww that’s so sweet.” “I know it’s kinda stupid, and I didn’t buy anything, but it seemed right.” “It’s perfect.” He hugs Mike, and they kiss. They go out on their date. They go watch a re-screening of Spaceballs and have a great time. Afterward, Mike takes them to an ice cream shop. Mike takes one of Will’s art markers and starts to draw a heart on Will’s cast. Will: “Mike!” Mike doesn’t care. They get some homophobic stares from adults. Before Mike can finish, Will hides away his arm. Mike sees this and is hurt, but understands.

The next day, Will shyly approaches Mike in the school hall. They give each other boyfriend looks. Mike says they should go out again tonight. “Two nights in a row?” “Sure! Why not?” “You know, you don’t have to take me out all the time. You can't afford it." They laugh. Will "We could just hang out and play games.” Mike wants to kiss Will on the spot. “So it’s a date?” Will giggles and looks shyly to the side: “Yes, it’s a date.” Max walks up to them and says “Hi, lovebirds!” They blush. The bell rings, they turn and head to their class.

… They pass by and notice Bully #1. He looks at them and Max stares daggers back. He immediately lowers his gaze. Will, defiantly looking straight at Bully #1, extends his hand out to Mike. Mike takes it, they look at each other. Mike gives a loving sigh and nods. Students look at them in shock as they walk down the hall in slow motion, David Bowie’s “Heroes” playing (starting here). The last line is sung as we go to credits...

I, I will be king And you, you will be queen Though nothing will drive them away We can be Heroes, just for one day We can be us, just for one day

====================

That's it! I'm not planning anything more on this particular project. I have a couple ideas including Will and Mike getting caught on the Upside Down and Will using a gun lol, but I don't feel like writing it out because from here forward the A plot takes center stage and I have no idea where that will go!

Anyway, that concludes "Byler Endgame - One Episode at a Time." I hope you enjoyed it!

Part 0 (what a Byler endgame needs to address) Previous episode

P.S. Follow me and read my blog! I have so much to say!

#byler #stranger things #byler endgame #fanfic #one episode at a time #speculation #st5 #st5 speculation #byler theory #david bowie #heroes #david bowie heroes

[mammalsofaction]

Those Moments When We Didn't Get Along

Rating: G

Relationship: Heinz Doofenshmirtz/Perry the Platypus

Add tags: Human Perry, mute Perry, POV Outsider, the whole Flynn-Fletcher family, set during the breakup scene from About Time.

A/N: The lore behind Perry and Lawrence's relationship is in compliance with the Human Perry Lore post I've made a while back here. Perry's sister, Lawrence's ex-wife, was named Evelyn, AKA Agent Eve the Echidna. (Get it, egg laying mammals native to Australia?)

Now read it on Ao3!

"Perry?" Lawrence calls out, knocking on his door. The room is dark, unlit, but the answering churr is unmistakable. He sounds...

"Are you alright, dear boy?" This time, an indecipherable grunt. "Linda sent me up to tell you dinner's ready. May I come in?"

When he hears no response, which is as good of an answer on its own, he pushes the door to let himself inside, and instinctively reaches for the light switch.

Perry's face down on the bed, still partly dressed in his teal work clothes. He doesn't flinch.

"My word, old boy, what's happened?" Lawrence demands, mildly alarmed. Perry bats his hands away when he plops himself down next to him on the mattress, shoving at his shoulder, but he does it without twisting himself around. "Don't be like that, let me look at you. Perry. What's gotten into you?"

Then he hears it. The unmistakable sniffle.

Lawrence gapes. "Have you just broken up with someone?"

It was an educated guess, but the way Perry leaps up to slap at his face all but confirms it. Lawrence supposed he had said it too loudly considering the kind of household they're in. He could swear Candace's hearing could be supersonic sometimes. "We didn't even know you were dating anybody," Lawrence chides, half despairing. Perry tries to plop back down into bed, and Lawrence doesn't let him. Going so far as to physically set himself between Perry and the miserably crumpled mattress so his foster-cum-brother-in-law was throwing himself into his embrace instead.

Lawrence pats Perry's back, commiserating. Perry's buried his face in the crook of Lawrence's throat. He hadn't gotten more than a glance at Perry's face, but what he's seen has practically torn his heart apart; nothing but swollen eyes and visible tear tracks. "What happened?" He asks again, helplessly. "Will you tell me?"

Lawrence half-expects being ignored. Both of them knew that Lawrence knew, at least partially, the hidden truth of Perry's career, but it wasn't from anything Perry ever tells him in person. There are some unmistakeable aspects of himself that he still clamps down on, and Lawrence would never presume to push.

So he's taken by surprise when Perry shrugs, noncommittal, then raises his hands to sign; Think I just got cheated on.

"You what?"  Lawrence hisses.

It's fine, I don't-

"No, Perry." Lawrence fumes emphatically, and the teak haired man stops short in surprise. "It is very clearly not fine."

Lawrence-

It's too late. Lawrence had already gotten to his feet, hands on his hips in a way that Candace had once told him made him look his own age, in a derogatory manner. He isn't thinking about that now, though. Now all he is is vibrating at an visible frequency of second-hand outrage. Dinner first, Lawrence thinks to himself. Then he will...he will drive out, and get Perry some ice cream so they can. Can stew and Perry will eat his heart out and they can cry and rage all about this....this no-good heartbreaking bedswerving cad.

This he tells to Perry, who responds by simply burying his face back into his pillow so he could continue wallowing. Lawrence feels generous enough to let him, but he leaves the lights on as he stomps his way downstairs, where the family was happily eating dinner before they see the look on Lawrence's face.

"Dad?" Phineas asked innocently. "What happened? Where's Uncle Perry?"

"I'm afraid Uncle Perry will not be joining us for dinner tonight, boys, and will unfortunately be out of commission until spoken otherwise."

"Out of commission?" The boy gasped dramatically, kneeling on his chair. Candace and Linda had both curiously put their spoons down. "He's sick?" Phineas concludes in dismay. Ferb blinks, shocked.

"Of a sort." Lawrence answers grimly.

"Of a sort?" Candace grunts. "What kind of answer is that? He's either sick or he isn't." Her tone was haughty, skeptical, but Lawrence could hear the concern in her inflection from a mile away. Candace loved pretending she cared less than she truthfully did.

When Lawrence feels the tug on his sleeve, he turns to see Linda, who had a carefully concealed look of concern. A single flick of her eyes in the direction of Perry's room was all she needed to communicate her offer; Dinner?

Lawrence nods, then points to the car keys, hanging by the front door.

Her brow furrows further in concern, but they both know that it wasn't the right time to properly ask. She turns to back to the kids instead. "Honey, why don't you help me make a plate of dinner, and Candace can send it up to Uncle Perry?"

"I want to help send it up!"

"There shouldn't be too many people in Uncle Perry's room, dear, he might have a headache."

"Me and Ferb will be really quiet, please please please please please-,"

Lawrence leaves them to it, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of Linda's temple and ruffling Ferb's hair as he makes his way out. He feels the boy's gaze follow him all the way to the door, but doesn't realize he's being followed until he turns around to shut the door behind him.

Ferb blinks expectantly.

"Oh, go inside, my boy, it's chilly! I'll just be a moment."

The boy responds by pulling a pair of mittens, and his purple bobblehead hat from his deep pockets, blinking again once he shrugs them on.

There was no talking Ferb out of something he's clearly made his mind about. Lawrence sighs, taking his hand as they walk to the garage.

"Alright," Lawrence concedes. "But promise we'll keep this between you and me, alright?"

Lawrence doesn't doubt he will. Ferb blinks eagerly in compliance.

-----

Lawrence figures the boy's figured it out, on their way home from the supermarket, cradling a chilly tub of Perry's favourite ice cream between his legs on the ride home and nothing else. He had snuck a couple packets of antibiotics and fever patches into the basket while they were out shopping, and Lawrence had awkwardly put each one of them back.

When Lawrence returns the sachet of night-time tea they both know Perry favours when he's actually sick, the boy had turned to him with such a deeply knowing look Lawrence felt busted for something he hadn't even been trying to hide, much less of any sort of trouble. The boy said nothing. He didn't have to. He reached for nothing else (save for a packet of gum from the side of the register of both his and Phineas' favourite brand) and remained perfectly well behaved for the rest of the trip.

"Now Ferb," Lawrence says warily, as they start pulling into their street. "You will have to promise me to keep this between us, not even to Phineas if he hasn't figured it out yet. Your uncle is the private sort, and I can't imagine he will want his dirty laundry waved all across town in the state that he's in. He's feeling vulnerable, you understand?"

Ferb nods firmly. Lawrence stretches out his pinky.

"Promise?"

Ferb takes it, and they shake on it like men.

"Good boy." Lawrence says proudly, once again ruffling his hair, and pulls into the driveway of the house.

Ferb rushes inside to put the tub in the freezer (Lawrence hears Phineas happy greeting from the kitchen, "Oh, there you are, Ferb." ) and Linda comes forward to take his jacket, welcoming him home with a gentle kiss. "Welcome home, stud. Found everything he needed?"

"As far as we know. Did you get to talk to him?" 

"He's not in a chatty mood. Though Candace squirreled a thing or two out of him; think she figured out faster than I did."

"She's always got a good head on her shoulders." Lawrence concedes, unsurprised.

"When need be." Linda agrees, before her facade drops and he spies a glimpse of regret. "I didn't even know he was dating someone."

Much less it was anything this serious. Goes unspoken. "I'm inclined to think it's deliberate. Not that we didn't have our suspicions."

"Did he say anything to you?"

Lawrence hesitates. "Not much." He hedges, unconvincingly, from the look of his wife's face. He sighs, and triple checks that the children had dispersed their own ways out of earshot.

"He did say," Lawrence begins carefully. "That there was some matter of. Infidelity involved."

Linda gasped. "Oh, that poor man."

"Not particularly forthcoming beyond the statement."

"Do you think it's one of his...co-workers?"

Lawrence glanced at Linda with a raised brow, but she seems firm with her line of questioning. She's one step further removed from any personal knowledge of Perry's life choices, and occupation-but Lawrence could hide from her as well as blood from gauze. She knew everything he did of Perry's career, which was never much at all. Enough to go by. Enough to reassure her it wouldn't harm their children.

Lawrence had never even considered this, but now that he was, it made a terrifying amount of sense. "I'm obligated to think it might be." He acquiesced. "Might be more complicated than your run of the mill splitting sob story."

Linda hums in agreement, before tactfully changing gears. "I'll reheat your dinner. Did you get him rocky road?"

"Mint chocolate."

"Oh my."

"I'm afraid we'll have to pull out all the stops this time around."

"Maybe I'll pull out my cake pan."

-----

In the days that follow, Perry remains inconsolable.

He's mostly taken to stuffing his face in chips and junk food in front of the TV, half watching re-runs, but for a couple of hours each day the children manage to convince him to participate in their backyard projects, and Candace even manages to coax him to come with her on a trip to the mall. Perry had come home laughing, with a new pair of jeans and flip flops, raving for some obscure chinese martial arts movie they had watched together. The joviality didn't stay, but it was still such a relief to see.

On a pleasantly windy Thursday night, while they've set up a fire and a couple of beers for a Men's Night In in the backyard, Perry nudges his shoulder to tell him, lightly, that he's thinking of quitting.

Lawrence inhales his drink down the wrong tube, and practically coughs his lungs out. Perry thumps him helpfully on the back, and politely refuses to comment.

"Perry," Lawrence gasps, when he's gotten his breath back. "Perry, that's-,"

That's good, he wants to say. But was it really? Bias aside...

That's odd, seemed a bit more truthful, but what kind of response would that be? Nothing at all.

"Are you really?" Is what he ends up saying, more baffled than he meant to put out. Perry shrugs, avoiding his gaze. A moment passes as he takes a sip, and running his thumb around the circumference of the tap.

Maybe not really. Perry admits. Just. I'm getting on in years, maybe I'm not fit for any of the fieldwork I used to do in my twenties. Maybe train some recruits, let someone new take my place.

This was the longest, most honest conversation they've had surrounding Perry's career. Even compared to the one surrounding Evelyn's death, almost a decade ago now.

He knows Perry enjoys fieldwork. It's been largely implied he prodigiously excels in it. So had Evelyn. He had never begrudged her for it, not even till her very end.

Lawrence wonders what changed. He doesn't have to for very long.

The honesty in the air makes him bold, almost uncharacteristically so. "This partner of yours," he starts, careful, careful. "Who was he? To you?"

Perry smiles, a small, bitter thing.

He was everything.

------

Then one day, Perry comes home and he's...better.

Not a 180, but it's. Close. A noticeably stark difference than how he had been last night that it even puts Phineas off, but only for a moment. Mostly he was just ecstatic.

"Uncle Perry's better!" The boy cheers and giggled, dangled beneath Perry's pit like a sack of fresh loam. Ferb's hanging from the back of his shoulders, kicking happily and trying to pull himself up. The man doesn't seem to notice, or mind, the pain. "He's better! He's better! Candace look!"

Ferb manages to haul himself up to sit and wrap his legs around Perry's shoulders, and Perry grunts, reaching back to help him establish balance as he drops a wiggly Phineas back on his feet to reach his mother, chopping lentils in the kitchen.

"Perry? Oh!" Linda says, surprised as Perry swoops in to plant a kiss on her cheek. She giggles, and pinches his. "Welcome home, you blasted rouge. Are you going to help me with dinner?"

Perry responds by taking over chopping duties, pulling the board closer to himself and stealing away her knife to commence vegetable slicing duties. His speed, and the nonchalance that accompanies it-despite the heavy burden around his shoulders, swinging his legs- was almost terrifying, but Linda barely notices. She's reaching for her phone by the cooking stove, sending her husband a red alert. Perry was whistling.

"I gather you had a pretty good day at work, huh?" She muses, half-serious.

He gives her a cheeky one-shouldered shrug, eyes rolling up. His smile dimples. Maybe.

She's practically burning with curiousity, but knows that now wasn't the time to ask. "Well, I'm making braised chicken. Why don't you help me with the asparagus? Ferb, sweetie, you want to get down and help me with seasoning the chicken breast?"

"Oh, but mom!! Asparagus makes Ferb farts so stinky!" Phineas complains.

"It also makes your farts stinky, mister. Now go help Perry pre-heat the oven."

-----

After dinner, Lawrence drops by again. In contrast to the state of things when the trouble began, his room is well-lit, and instead of resting, Perry's at his desk with his reading glasses, and a stack of documents he folds and puts away, out of sight, before he lets Lawrence in with a warm chitter.

As if the last few days never happened at all.

Lawrence has been witness to something like this a few times before, but it never gets any less off-putting, to realize he was so distant from the heat of things -the state, the conflict- and being privy only to the resolution.

Perry had been cheated on, by a man who meant everything. And now?

"Just wanted to check on how things were going." He says, closing the door behind him. "The kids were telling me you're feeling a lot better."

Perry, confoundingly, began to blush, looking down at his pen, rolled and fidgeted between his fingers. I am, he tells Lawrence. Wish I could say it was a huge misunderstanding, even if it was, a little bit. We just never put it into words, what we were, and I think it never occurred to us how much it would hurt, for him to have done what he did.

Perry put down his pen, picked it back up again, uses it to scratch the back of his nape as he looks at Lawrence a little bashfully. Then he puts the pen back down. It surprised me too, that I took to it as bad as I did. What we had was something...special. I didn't realize...

Lawrence looked at him intensely, arms crossed. When he determines Perry had nothing else to say, he asked -what he knew to be- the most important question of all. "And did he apologize?"

Perry smiles. It dimples. This time, it's directed at Lawrence himself, instead of a special man in the distant mind. He did. Perry signs.

"And he meant it?"

As much as he could.

"Well," Lawrence proclaims brusquely. He's trying to sound stern, but the undeniable lovesick smile on Perry was contagious. "So long as he doesn't do it again...,"

Oh, Perry signs ominously. He won't.

Lawrence finally lets himself smile, echoing the childish joy on his brother-in-law's face. "Well," he chuckles. "Then I suppose that's all that matters, doesn't it?"

Perry concedes with an affectionate roll of his eyes, but when Lawrence comes forward to hug him, he returns it right back tenfold.

Thank you, he signs meaningfully.

"You're family, Perry." Lawrence replies, with a shake of his head. "What slights you is a slight to all of us, and your joy is ours. Family sticks together."

It's an old catchphrase of a woman long gone, beyond what's left of her in both their hearts, and Perry tears up. Though he plays it off with a dismissive sniffle, and a bump of their shoulders.

You can be just as insufferable as she was. He signs, more affectionately than he wants to pretend to be. His tone shifts, grows bashful again.

Lawrence, he signs. Slow, hesitant. Do you think....if things ever....and I brought him over to meet...would you...like...?

The implications of Perry's broken up request was as strong as a punch to his gut, and Lawrence fears he might have lost his cool in his eagerness. "Of course we will!" He restrains himself to a stage whisper. He fears he would wake the neighbourhood in excitement, otherwise. "Perry, of course we will. I'll...we'll be honoured, my boy."

He means it too, and Perry could tell. His smile was blinding, and his blush had spread brighter than his skin tone, all across the bridge of his nose. You have to be cool about it. He makes Lawrence promise.

"Oh, totally." Lawrence reassures him. He's putting it on a little bit, on account of it making Perry laugh. "Chill. 100 percent-o. Call me liquid nitrogen the fact that I am lighter than air. I am pre-emptively cooling a block of ice. Call me Fro-zone the way I'm-,"

Get out, Perry demands. Barely. He's also doubled over in laughter. Oh my god, just get out before you make me regret this.

"Getting out!" Lawrence complies with a salute, and dashes out the room. He can still hear Perry chuckling as he closes the door behind him. His cheeks ache from his grin. All better, indeed.

Flushed with triumph and good tidings, he embarks on a mission to find his wife and share the wonderful news.

#heinz doofenshmirtz #perryshmirtz #human perry #phineas and ferb #choice of fic

[thelostgirl21]

After watching that scene, I'm pretty sure that Radovid's intent was to go ask for Ciri's help and convince her to come with him to Redania, so all the madness would stop.

Seriously, he's all alone, he openly admitted to being afraid, he's got no royal security detail nearby, and I'm pretty sure that Jaskier could easily knock him out with his lute if it ever came to it!

And Ciri is what? A highly trained magically enhanced warrior?

Like there was literally no way he ever could have managed to kidnap her on his own, and I'm fairly certain he's 100% aware of it.

Not to mention that his big "masterplan" had Radovid just initially knocking on the freaking door while both Jaskier and Ciri were inside to come see them!

The fact that he attempted to go inside the cabin without Jaskier's permission is pretty much the worst thing he's ever done "wrong".

Yes, it would have been better for him to wait until Jaskier was awake, and then convince him to let him see Ciri; but, like Jaskier said, "people do stupid things when they feel like they're trapped in a corner".

So, disrespecting Jaskier's boundaries by taking the initiative to go see Ciri himself, likely because he was too afraid that Jaskier would still say "no" if he asked, is not exactly what I would call a "betrayal".

Something that would require a good talk between them, yeah.

But given how terrified that poor Prince was (and he had every reason to be), I can understand why he would have been rather desperate to get an audience with Ciri by that point.

And I get that Jaskier's highly protective of Ciri, and that he's got a hard time believing that someone could just fall in love with him as easily as Radovid did, but come on!

Cutting straight through him like that, by basically telling him he's freaking empty behind his mask?

You know, after Radovid told him that he believes he is someone that sees people as they really are, not as they pretend to be, and that he sees the best in them... Jaskier basically goes straight for the kill by telling Radovid there's no good in him?!

And Radovid just... takes it?

He takes his broken heart, apologizes, and leaves?

And one of the most heartbreaking things is that I think he's not telling Jaskier how bad things are at the Palace, because it might put him in danger, too.

Dijkstra's already threatened to have him killed if he says a word to anyone about that truly happened to Queen Hedwig, and it's very likely that if he tells Jaskier - and Dijsktra and Philippa find out who he spoke to - they'll get rid of both of them.

The more it goes, and the more I'm having a feeling that Radovid really is just that highly emotionally intelligent and perceptive puppy, a bit of an empath, like Jaskier, but definitely not the kind of person that enjoys political strategy and scheming.

He was crying and whimpering alone in the corner of a room upon finding out his guards were dead, for frak's sake!

You know, after Jaskier sort of "broke up" with him (before they even had a chance to really become something), all because he was scared, and had a moment of weakness where he went to see Ciri alone.

And then, he comes back to the Palace to find that all the guards that used to look after him are dead (I wouldn't be surprised if Radovid had become friends with a few of them), and he just huddles in a corner, and then tells Jaskier that he should go, and shouldn't have to listen to him / comfort him.

I'm kinda glad that Jaskier found him, and decided to give him a chance to show him that he didn't betray him and that his feelings for him were 100% genuine; and even implied that he might have gone with Radovid if he hadn't needed to go looking for his family.

It's actually when Radovid told him "you shouldn't have to listen to me", sounding like he was blaming himself for the mistake he made, and minimizing his own hurt pretending he wouldn't be worth the time and efforts, that Jaskier went into "protective mode" and considered that he was being sincere earlier.

I'm just hoping the show won't try to do something extremely dumb like turning this into a sort of "villain origin story" or something.

From what I understand, the books had Dijsktra and Philippa running Redania in Queen Hedwig's name, by forming a Regency Council because Queen Hedwig was too devastated in the wake of her husband's death, and out of her depth / unable to figure out how to run the country in times of war and conflict.

So, essentially they become the true power behind the throne.

And here, they had Queen Hedwig killed because she had an interest in politics, strong opinions, was (according to how Vizimir described her at her funerals) considered a STERN and distant figure, and the King adored her and respected her influence.

Whereas Radovid essentially says "Look, I'm terrible at being a prince, or spy, or anything to do with court and politics, really... But I've found someone I love and I think I can do some good out there..."

And when they put that crown on his head, he was looking on the verge of a panic attack.

This isn't someone that apparently ever craved power, or recognition, or enjoyed politics, or wanted to rule anything.

So what if the show was brave enough to give Queen Hedwig's role to a man who is deeply caring, loving, empathetic, weeps when he discovers that his guards have died, and has a hard time recovering from what happened to his brother and the way it totally crushed his hopes of ever escaping a world of constant betrayal and deceit.

What if Radovid is unable to rule (at least, at first), and therefore the power goes to Dijsktra and Philippa, just like it does in the books.

It's just that instead of a Queen that is unable to take care of the Kingdom and must rely on the decisions of Dijsktra and Philippa, it's a King.

Instead of Vizimir's wife, it's his brother.

He's pretty much just told his brother "I'm not cut for life at court, I can't be of any use to anyone here, but I can be of use to someone I love out there in the world."

And yes the fact that Radovid basically heard Jaskier say "I need to find my family" and his instinct was to immediately go "look, just let me be there for you, and make up for that moment of weakness I had, and let's go help the people you love and protect your family together..." just made me unconditionally fall in love with that character.

Like he's not jealous that Jaskier has people that he loves, and that he considers family, and that he's putting first (because, let's face it they barely know each other), and apparently Radovid would feel happier and safer being out there with him - where the things that want to eat you usually are very clear and open on their intents - than stuck in a viper's nest where you constantly have to watch your back and play mind games to survive.

Sure, if they have Radovid play "Hedwig" there are a few toxic gamers out there that are going to complain about how the "feminazis" have ruined a perfectly good, ruthless villain!

But that ruthless villain never existed in the books. He's literally a 13-year-old child, and the trauma that was suggested that book Radovid went through as a kid - that made him want to take his "rightful place as King", get even with those that tormented him and his mother, and earned him the nickame "Radovid the Stern" - never happened.

Book Radovid was an immature child that seemed a bit entitled and was going in his mind "Oh, just you wait to see what I'm capable of".

TV show Radovid is a very emotionally mature, sensitive, and insightful man that worries that he's taking up too much of Jaskier's time and bothering him with his concerns.

And the minute that he learns that Jaskier's family is in danger is willing to sell as much valuables as he can to get out there and help him get them back!

Like... Why on the Continent would he suddenly become a villain that decides he hates all non-humans and wants all sorceresses dead?! (That's videogame Radovid, not book Radovid, BTW)

But yeah, he doesn't fit the psychological profile of a tyrant at all!

I'm not saying that he can't turn out to be a surprisingly good strategist, given that highly empathetic people are often able to give manipulators a run for their money!

But it's exhausting, it's unpleasant, it's not something they enjoy, and they'd much rather not have to.

Seriously, I never expected to fall in love with Radovid to the point where, if I could, I'd have been tempted to jump in there to protect him from Jaskier, of all people!

Like WTF is this?!

It's probably just like I absolutely adore Geralt, but have often wanted to knock some sense into him when it comes to the way he's been behaving with Jaskier.

It's a case of "a beloved character's issues are targeting another beloved character's issues, and would you guys please stop hurting each other?!?!?"

Like, I get it, Jaskier, but Radovid didn't deserve to be told that everything you believed you saw in him was a lie, because of your own difficulty trusting that someone could really be so enamored with you, and the risk of being blinded by your feeling for him... And is it just me or it's like a huge running theme of Season 3, part 2?

Tissaia and Vilgefortz, Philippa and Dijsktra, Jaskier and Radovid, etc.

Anyway, I just have tons of feels about Radovid that I needed to get out...

#Radovid #Jaskier #Radskier #The Witcher #The Witcher Spoilers #My Posts #My Thoughts #This was painful #But I'm trying to trust that Jaskier will eventually make it right to him... #Hopefully...