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esamastation · 7 months

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Shizuroth, part six.

Genesis enters Sephiroth's room like he owns the place, which is probably a good thing, because the man the room actually belongs to has no idea what's even in there.

As it turns out, not much.

It's not small, exactly, for a single room apartment with a kitchenette and a bathroom it's actually really spacious! It even has two nice big windows! But it's… spartan. There's a bed, a desk, and the tiniest of kitchen tables. The only thing that could maybe, imaginatively, be called decoration is the stand on which sits Sephiroth's ridiculously long sword. And… that's it.

"Ah, home sweet home," Genesis says, shaking his head and tutting at him. "You, my friend, are in desperate need of colour in your life."

Well - he doesn't disagree! Everything in the room is drab gunmetal grey, mass-produced and sad. Even the curtainless windows just look depressing. And the Feng Shui of the place is awful. Sephiroth's bed is near the door, and you need to go around it to the bathroom, and his desk is facing the corner! The flow of energy is all over the place!

And okay, maybe Feng Shui isn't a thing here - but still! There should be some plants, at least! Some artwork maybe! A carpet or two? The bed doesn't even have a duvet! And there's more than enough room for a couch here, maybe even two. Doesn't Sephiroth ever have people over?

Looking at Genesis, rummaging through the cupboards and making faces at the lack of actual cups there… probably not. Because it seriously looks like Sephiroth had precisely one of everything. One tea mug, one glass, one plate, one bowl and one of each utensils. And no pots and pans. Microwave and electric kettle, and that's it.

If it turns out that Sephiroth only just has instant noodles in his cupboard…

Genesis compromises by using the mug and the water glass to make tea, and the Peak Lord of Qing Jing Peak winces at the brusque thoughtless scalding of the poor tea in its teabags.

"Don't make faces at me - you're the one who doesn't have cups," Genesis says with a sniff and carries the cups to the kitchen table. It's round, metallic, and the chairs look utterly uncomfortable. "Come on, tell me everything. Unburden your tale of woe."

Currently his biggest woe is the veritable black hole of Feng Shui that's Sephiroth's room and he'd like nothing more than to rearrange everything. Right after raiding the wardrobe to see if the man owns a single functional shirt.

Giving Genesis' turtleneck a bitter glance, he goes to sit down. Genesis is cursed with the Final Fantasy Buckles too, but he's got a shirt. Life is utterly unfair.

"Well?" Genesis asks, pushing the tea glass over the metal table. It rattles. "What happened at the lab?"

Making a face, he takes the glass. The tea smells strongly of this will taste awful. "I already told you. Three times the maximum dose."

"So you don't remember?" Genesis asks, perceptively.

Well, obviously not. Sephiroth died, and by the time he appeared, his body was already patched up. It's really very similar to how he landed in Shen Qingqiu. Mako injection instead of Qi deviation, but from what he remembers of FFVII… isn't Mako also energy? Life blood of the planet, condensed. Which was being injected into people.

He… really needs to figure out what that means in the framework of cultivation. If anything, It might be applicable - energy is energy. Or it might be just magic.

"The winds of fate have blown a mighty storm your way, then," Genesis says, taking a sip of tea. He doesn't look like he likes it.

Giving the man a slight shake of Sephiroth's head, he hums. "I feel fine," he says, feeling like a broken record. It'd really be better if the man just left, so that he could sort himself out. And then the room. And then the wardrobe. And then investigate if the laptop would be just as disappointing as the phone has been. "I just need… a break. To recover." Hint, hint!

Genesis stares at him blankly and puts the mug down with a sharp noise. "Well, now I know it's a disaster! Sephiroth himself, asking for a break? Stop the presses, the narrative has gone completely off the rails!"

Leaning back a little, he covers his frustration by taking a drink of Sephiroth's tea and then covering his cough in a displeased hum. Ugh, it's just as bad as he thought it would be. "I can't take a break?" he asks resentfully.

"No, no, of course no one says you can't! Except maybe professor Hojo, but we shall ignore him for the time being," Genesis says quickly and leans forward. "But, Sephiroth, when have you ever taken a break?"

… Depressing! Why is the scary epic Big Bad so depressing?! That's not how it should be! Isn't he supposed to be off-the-rails, scenery-chewing, scene-stealing thing of badassery? One of the most iconic villains of video game history?! With the bombastic theme and the crazy eyes?! Hello?! Why is he so sad?!

Genesis watches him for a moment and then leans forward. "Give me your PHS."

"What?"

"Your PHS," Genesis says impatiently, making a gimme gesture at Sephiroth's pocket. "Give it to me."

".... Why?" he asks suspiciously, putting a protective hand over it. It's where Sephiroth's phone is.

"So that I can send Lazard your appeal for time off! Goddess knows you won't do it yourself - the moment I turn my back you'll probably be heading off to a training mission or something," Genesis says pointedly. "So give."

But… it's his phone now…

"I'll leave you to mope in peace if you do," Genesis bargains, rolling his eyes. "You'll have all the time in the world to lick your wounds and figure out how to cover it up so that no one will be the wiser, I promise. Once I get you some actual time off."

Genesis was - would be - the main villain in Crisis Core. Can he trust the man with Sephiroth's phone? The man looks keen and sincere, but he also looks like he's up to something. And also onto him, which is not great!

Ah, he's really messing this up, without a System to scream at him about what's OOC and what isn't, huh.

Genesis wiggles his fingers, insistent.

… Some time to himself would be great, though. And free time would mean that he wouldn't have to deal with missions just yet. That… could only be good. Maybe there's some honour between villains? It was a big theme in Crisis Core, honour.

"Don't do anything weird with it," he says finally and hands Sephiroth's flip phone over.

"Would I do such a thing?" Genesis asks, huffing in offence and snatches the phone right up. He doesn't even wait for a reply, already typing away quickly and with gleeful flourish.

Giving the man a suspicious look over his glass of horrible tea, the transmigrator can only hope he wouldn't regret this.

The message Genesis sends to the Director of SOLDIER is decently professional, if a bit presumptuous. It goes along the lines of, "On account of my recent incident in the Shinra Medical, I will be taking some time off for personal reasons," and it's barely even a request, more a demand. But it gets Sephiroth the time off he needs, and promptly, at that - whole three days of it, too! It's most appreciated.

The mailing lists Genesis joins, however, aren't.

SY at S: damn bitch, you live like this?

#Fanfiction #ff7 #Svsss #Sephiroth #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #genesis rhapsodos

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houseofbrat · 2 months

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As someone who works in PR I am ASTONISHED at how bad Kensington Palace is at all of this. It’s the most interesting part of the whole thing for me. Well that, and how much it seemingly vindicates H&M and Harry in particular in what he’s said about the firm and the media’s role in protecting the Heir at all costs.

Yeah I work in PR for a public company and anytime we want to put something out we have to run it up the chain - we need legal and Investor relations and executive approvals.

Even if KP and BP had their individual PR teams, which makes sense, there should still be one main central PR office that everyone answers to that manages the entire royal families PR, makes sure schedules and press opportunities and STRATEGY AND MESSAGING all aligns, before running up the chain for final approvals. There’d be a social team and a crisis team and government relations team and a branding team and a general “talent rep” kind of team, all working in tandem to serve the overall strategy for the royal family.

The fact that there are so many cooks in so many different kitchens is why the royal family has had so many PR disasters honestly for decades now. They’re truly doing it all wrong. So many Worst Practices here, not Best Practices.

It really doesn't seem like there is an overall PR team. Just the separate entities

Yeah and that’s the problem IMO. They are a business that should be run like a business. They should have the individual departments I suggested, and even more, working in tandem.

The fact that there are so many separate entities with different agendas and priorities is a huge part of their problem IMO.

But Charles has been transparent for the most part!! And photographed repeatedly. It’s so bizarre when compared to KP, and feels passive aggressive to me to be honest lolol.

They’re really so so so bad at this 😭😭😭😭 but the British public and the media lets them get away with it 🙃🙃🙃

For heaven’s sake. If she’s recovering nicely, why resort to recycling old photos?

Other sources are making a pretty good case for the fact that it’s a November photo, taken after Catherine and the children visited the baby bank.

Does nobody, and I mean nobody, know how to do PR in that place anymore? Now it's pin all of this on just-recovering-from-abdominal-surgery Kate? Why not on William since they were so proud about how he was the one that took the photo? Somehow they keep making everything ten times worse.

I’m sorry, but I don’t believe for a second that Kate personally edited that photo together in such a way that it had to be killed as inauthentic. The pulling of the photo is likely more about the refusal to provide metadata or the raw image for proof rather than silly Photoshop choices. That isn’t an issue of “mummy going wild on the computer,” it’s a larger organizational issue about trust, transparency, and KP’s overall poor approach to news orgs and the press lately.

Why is Kate taking the fall? Why is William such a lout to let an ill Kate put this on her own shoulders rather than admit KP made an error or say KP is going to reevaluate their practices and make a change?

Are college interns running Palace p.r.? Because I cannot understand how they're botching this so badly. If Kate couldn't/wouldn't pose for a legit photo, then just don't release anything. The Royals are basically dumping tankers of gas on the inferno by playing all these games.

Sorry, am I going insane? After saying they wouldn’t respond to these conspiracy theories, they

a) responded by putting out a doctored image,

b) responded to the backlash of doctored image by claiming the woman recovering from a medical issue was playing around in Photoshop, and

c) responded to the backlash of editing claims by putting out an image where the person in the photo is supposed to be Kate but could LITERALLY BE ANYBODY.

NONE OF YOU ARE FINDING THIS WEIRD? NONE?!

"Kate's Back"

Well, it is indeed a picture of Kate's back

Apparently the main symptom of her mysterious medical condition is that any photo with her in it immediately becomes grainy, blurry, or with people's wrists trying to escape into a fifth dimension.

Good Lord, I haven't followed a disaster story this closely since Oceangate Titan and this one may be even worse. The narrative is out of control and the rules have gone out the window.

They already lost control of the narrative at this point. No matter what they do now, they will be scrutinized more than they've ever been before. And they seem grossly unprepared for it.

She’s not even facing camera, how is this supposed to help? This just feeds the conspiracy theorists! headdesk

It's becoming a PR nightmare that only Olivia Pope can rescue.

Maybe the better question is that people are concerned about Kate's welfare, and most WERE okay with waiting under the timeline KP initially offered that is she will likely return by or after Easter.

However KP has mismanaged the messaging, and with that concern grows over how weird some of the updates are. The article explains why this medical time out is turning into an absolute PR crisis. It isn't so much about Kates right to medical privacy (she definitely deserves that )

It now is about institutional reliability, the heir William's arguably erratic or unusual behavior or his courtiers' comments, the mess with the all kill photoshopped/Frankensteined photo (which has never happened before with a palace released photo), the very different approaches from BP vs KP, etc etc. It's become bigger than Kate sad to say.

And ultimately now people are worried for her, in a way they wouldn't have been, because things have become so irregular and bungled. So the urgency to make sure she is safe and okay has become louder and more insistent.

“CNN is now reviewing all handout photos previously provided by Kensington Palace.”

“In editorial photography, photojournalists and editors commonly adjust a photograph’s exposure or color balance in order to more accurately reflect the scene. Most news organizations, including CNN, regard it as unacceptable to move, change or manipulate the pixels of an image. To do so would alter the reality of the situation the image is intended to document.”

“In the past, the family’s amateur photographs have been well received when posted on social media. But on this occasion, this photo was also released to media organizations as a handout and the palace wasn’t transparent about the fact it had been adjusted.

That will have damaged the trust between the palace and media organizations – many of which, like CNN, will likely be assessing all royal handouts. The editing storm has undermined the existing relationship and when public interest over any possible cover up escalates, as it has done recently, many news outlets will now have take that speculation more seriously.”

#my gif #reddit #PR fail #fail!#kensington palace #palace officials #William The Prince of OWN GOALS #William The Weak #William The Terrible #prince william #William The Prince of Wales #scandal!#ESCANDALO!!!#kate middleton #Catherine The Princess of Wales #british royal family #fleet street #media

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alienguts · 1 year

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Burn (Ash Williams x f!Reader)

Summary: Ash tries to make dinner for Y/N. Extra emphasis on tries.

Warnings: none

Request?: No

A/N: This one's a little short but that's okay.

Leaving Ash alone in the kitchen was a disaster waiting to happen, and Y/N found that out the hard way. Having her entire apartment building evacuated because he’d managed to set the fire alarm off with a couple of slices of bacon was enough to ban him from using anything other than the microwave for life. He was just trying to help and take some of her workload off her, but she would rather have edible food that didn’t make the fire alarm blare.

After that incident, it was decided that Y/N would take care of the cooking and Ash would do the dishes afterwards. Ash didn’t always follow that and it just so happened that on a rare occasion that he was off work while Y/N was out, he would try to surprise her with a meal he cooked himself. Or at least tried to cook.

Luckily, Y/N had gotten home before the smoke detector woke up, but to an apartment full of steam and the distinctive smell of burnt beef. She sighed as she took her coat off and hung it up before making her way to the kitchen. Ash was standing at the stove, trying to fry two steaks in a pan that was too small, completely oblivious to the disaster waiting to happen.

“Hey, baby,” he said to Y/N as she grabbed a towel and stretched up to waft it against the smoke detector. “I made dinner.”

“Yeah, I see that,” Y/N said and reached around Ash to turn the burner off. Steam billowed off the pan and she was glad to see that Ash was holding it with his right hand, saving her from doing any first aid. “I don’t think we can eat it, though.”

“Why not?” Ash asked, moving away from the stove and letting her take the pan from him. “You like your steak well done, right?”

“Well done and charred are not the same thing, honey.” Y/N set the pan aside and turned around to face Ash. “Ash, what did I tell you about cooking?”

“Hey, I’m not as bad a cook as you think I am,” Ash said, his voice taking on a slightly defensive tone. “I want to get better at it, and I can’t do that if you won’t let me.”

Y/N sighed and reached up to take Ash’s face in her hands, her skin still warm from moving the pan.

“I know you want to help and learn but you could at least let me teach you,” she said gently. “And not almost start a fire in the kitchen while I’m out.”

Ash let his face lean into her touch before stepping forward to wrap his arms around her. “I just wanted to do something nice for you,” he said. “You always work so hard.”

“You don’t need to do anything nice for me, just not destroying my kitchen or getting me evicted is enough,” Y/N said as Ash rested his head on her shoulder. “What’s the occasion, anyway? There’s been nothing going on recently.”

“Well, I did forget Valentine’s Day.”

“Ash, that was a month ago, I don’t care about that anymore.”

“I still wanted to do something special,” Ash said, his voice muffled by Y/N’s shoulder. “They told me those were the best steaks in the store, I got a huge discount on them.”

“We could always order in,” Y/N suggested as she nudged his head off of her. “I got paid so we can afford it.”

“No, I’ll pay,” he said firmly. “If we’re gonna make this to be like a date, I should pay. I’m the man, after all.”

“But you spent the last of your paycheck on those steaks, Mr Man,” Y/N teased. She giggled when Ash visibly deflated, remembering that he was, in fact now, broke.

“Damn, guess you will have to pay then,” he said as he let Y/N guide him over to the sofa so they could sit down together.

“Don’t worry, honey, your manly ego will recover,” Y/N said and cuddled up to him. “And I’ll help you the next time you want to cook something, you don’t need to do it yourself.”

“I just don’t want you to feel like you’re waiting on me, that’s all.”

“I understand completely, but I would need a functioning kitchen in order to do that.”

“So you’re not mad that I burned dinner?” Ash asked sheepishly.

Y/N tipped her head up and leaned in to softly kiss him. He returned her kiss, feeling her warm face against his, their noses brushing against one another as he pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her. She broke away for air briefly before letting him kiss her again and again as he stroked her back and she ran her fingers through his hair.

“I’ll take that as you not being mad,” he mumbled against her mouth before she fully pulled away from him, still seated on his lap.

“Of course not,” Y/N said and stroked his cheek with her fingers. “I could never be mad at you for wanting to help, you know that.”

Ash smiled warmly at her before leaving one last kiss on her lips.

“So, what’re we gonna eat tonight? Lady’s choice.”

#ash williams x reader #ash williams x you #ash williams imagine #evil dead x reader #evil dead x you #evil dead imagine #horror x reader #horror x you #x reader #x you #reader insert #female reader #*my writing

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to-the-stars8 · 2 years

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Love and Neighbors

Clark Kent x Reader 1-Small Talk In Elevators 2-Thin Walls 3-Humming In Elevators 4-Coffee Breaks 5- Cherry Pies 6-Dead Vibrators 7-Entitled Old Ladies 8-Friendly Neighborhood Reporter 9-The Five Stages of Grief 10-Nervous First Meetings

WARNING; This chapter does mention a big disaster and death, so if that bothers you at all please just skip this chapter. Take care of yourself, my love! xoxo

11- Broken Glasses

There had been a lot of things you hated; Wet socks, the sound of styrofoam rubbing together, sudden loud noise--All the things a normal person would hate. And now there was something new to your list of things you hated, which was seeing Clark cry.

You had been just getting home from work, tired and desperately needing a bath with some snacks, when you saw him. He was in the middle of unlocking his door when you noticed the tears slipping under his glasses down his cheeks.

Confusion followed by worry ran through your chest, and you wasted no time slowly approaching him to see what was wrong. He jumped when you touched his arm like he didn’t hear you walk up, before letting a sob break from him.

“Clark, is everything okay?” You said softly between trying to comfort him and unlocking your door. He shook his head but didn’t say anything. When he didn’t, you went on. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Finally, then, he spoke up. It was a quiet “Yes.”

“Come inside.”

Sluggishly, he followed you. You hadn’t seen him like this before. Clark was happy-go-lucky, the life of the party--The optimistic one out of the two. Now, he just seemed tired and defeated. His eyes were red from crying, blue even brighter than before, and bags were dark under them.

While Clark took a seat on the couch, you went to the kitchen for a glass of water for him, returning as quickly as you could before he broke down again. Before he spoke, he chugged the water down, tears still streaming down his face as he did.

You comfortingly rubbed circles on his shoulder as you told him to take his time and not choke on the water. Clark chuckled half-heartedly, eyes laser-focused on the glass he gripped in his hands.

“What happened, Clark?” You asked softly.

He squeezed his eyes shut, squeezing out more tears, before taking a deep breath to answer. “You know the collapse on the new north bridge?”

“Of course. It was just a day or two ago.”

Clark sucked in a breath, nodding. “Tuesday night. Um, uh, a lot of people died.”

He was right, a lot of people did die. The north bridge had collapsed because of pure neglect of its original construction the year prior, a non-alien or evil genius cause that was surprisingly rare. Everyone from Metropolis to Gotham had heard the news, and many had been at the memorial service earlier that morning. Even Batman and a few of his Robins had gotten involved in the recovering of bodies.

“Yeah, they did. Is…is that why you’re upset?”

Clark nodded before sobbing so heavily that you were worried he would pop something. He hung his head, mumbling that he should have done something more, that all of was his fault in some way. In his explanation of his grief, his grip on the water glass had tightened so hard that it shattered. The two of you jumped at the sounds. Luckily, there was no damage to anyone, just the glass.

“I’m sorry,” Clark sobbed, starting to pick the pieces from the floor.

“Stop,” You ordered, grabbing his hands just so his attention was on you. The last thing on your mind was the damned cup. “Clark, listen to me. Are you listening?”

“Yes,” He whispered, looking right into your eyes.

You moved one of your hands to wipe away the tears on his cheeks. “None of this is your fault.”

“But--”

“No! No buts. That bridge collapsed because some asshole took a cheap, easy route to build it. There was no way you could have known--”

Clark groaned in frustration as pushed your hands away from him before moving to the other side of the room. “I could have done something! Done more--Save more lives!”

“How? You’re one person, Clark!” You spoke, truthfully. “You can’t be everyone or everywhere at once. You can only save so many people. That’s not your fault!”

He went silent before moving back over to the couch, and you took him into an embrace. Clark sobbed and wailed into your shoulder, and it killed you to hear it.

You wondered if this was the first time he felt like the one person who was supposed to save the world, or if it had been a feeling that persisted for years. It hurt to even imagine the concept. How alone he must have felt.

Clark said your name in a sob, bringing you from the depths of your mind. “I saw this little girl…She--she…in the water…”

“I’m sorry you had to experience that, Clark. See it, too.” You mumbled into his shoulder, using one of your hands to scratch the hair on the back of his neck. “It’s not your fault.”

“I…I know,” He said. “But I can’t help but feel like it is. I can’t stop feeling like it is. I have all this power, but can’t help everyone. I want to, but I know that I can’t. Still, I can’t help feeling that it’s all on me.”

Your heart broke. The things he must have seen. “It takes time, Clark, to unlearn things that you use to hurt yourself. You’re just one person, remind yourself of that. You’re not gonna just shrug off this in one go, take your time.”

He sniffled, hands still gripping your shirt like it was the last thing he would ever hold onto, before pulling away. You let him, although reluctantly. “I don’t know how to unlearn it.”

“No one does. Not by themselves, at least,” You lightly laughed for a second. “And you don’t have to do it by yourself. I think fate put me next door for a reason!”

Clark laughed a little, tears on his face slowly going away with each second. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Clark,” You said, a bit too eagerly for your taste. “And you don’t need to thank me. I’m your friend. I’m here to help.”

He smiled before taking off his glasses to wipe away any more tears left on his face, mumbling how he must have looked silly as he did. You shook your head, reassuring him of the opposite.

“I’m sorry about the glass,” He said. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Forget about the fucking glass, Sweetpea. I’m one person, so I don’t need many glasses.”

Clark only started to pick up the pieces that he broke as you watched. Still, he felt guilty. You wished you could shake the fact that none of it was his fault into his head, but knew that would never happen. The only thing you could do was be there for him as much as you could, and for that, you hoped was enough.

When he had cleaned up everything, he stood up, rubbing his palms down the front of his pants. “I need to go back to my apartment.”

You stood with him. “Let me walk you home?”

Clark smiled, and at that moment you realized how much you missed it. His tears made you want to cry, but his smile could make you feel like where you were was the happiest place to be. Like you had said, you walked him home--or rather, to his front door.

“Go visit your parents tonight,” You said, which caught him off guard. Seeing the confusion on his face, you elaborated. “To get your mind off of what happened Tuesday. Take a day or two to yourself.”

“Yeah,” Clark admitted. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“I’m full of ‘em, Mr. Kent.” You reached out for a hug again before he disappeared into his apartment. “Take care of yourself, Clark.”

“I will,” He said. “You’re the best.”

You pushed his arm playfully when you two broke away. “I know.”

#clark kent fluff #clark kent fanfiction #clark kent x you #clark kent x reader #clark kent #romance #superman x you #superman x reader #superman #batman #dc comcis

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theclassiccake · 2 years

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Ooh, if you're accepting requests, may I ask for some headcanons on how good (or bad) the Disney villains are at cooking?

Great cooks:

Hook and Ursula

It might not seem like it with James, but he can make a pretty impressive dish when he applies himself. When Smee isn't there to prepare his meals (and when he has the motivation to do so), he'll treat himself with something sweet or healthy.

Ursula will probably cut corners from using magic, but no one can deny that her cooking is to kill for. She has exquisite taste, so it shouldn't be super surprising that she knows what she would want for herself. (Would deadass give Flotsam and Jetsam a five-star meal just because she can asdfasdf.)

Decent cooks:

Hades and Facilier

Now for Hades, I say decent cause he at least knows his way around a grill (from the pool party episode in htas). It's nothing really outstanding, but he's not completely clueless when it comes to making food.. even if he doesn't necessarily need to eat.

Facilier knows the basics of cooking, but that's probably about it considering his work schedule. He knows his way around the kitchen for sure, to an extent that is. A homemade meal is nice at times, though he usually prefers to eat out when he can (the guy loves food, there's no doubt about it).

Can't cook:

Jafar and Gaston

If anything, Jafar sees cooking as menial labor and thinks it's below him. Which is fine since he really can't cook for shit anyway, it's not like he doesn't know what to do.. he just doesn't want to do it honestly.

I didn't want to go for the "clueless guy in kitchen" trope, but I feel like it's quite fitting in Gaston's case. The guy can hunt and there's no denying it.. he just can't do anything beyond that. Not to mention, he'll probably dub it as "not my job" with his ignorant mindset.

Have the fire department on speed dial for the love of god:

Cruella and Maleficent

This fashionista is a hot mess and definitely cooks like one too. You can ask her anything when it comes to a clothing line, but when it comes to cooking forget it. (Horace and Jasper are still recovering ever since the last time she tried cooking.)

The mistress of all evil doesn't have time for cooking, like Jafar she considers herself above it. Which is for the best really, putting Maleficent in front of a stove with access to sharp objects is a disaster waiting to happen...

#ngl I would love to see an episode starring the villains in a cook off #call it a filler episode ig #headcanons #disney villains #ask #text

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dotster001 · 2 years

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Hi! (This is for the matchup thing)

I really like to bake, regardless of the fact I'm not that good and it turns out really messy. I also like to just relax and lie down in bed and read. I'd said I'm pretty laid back and funny? I like to joke about everything, but they sound like dad jokes most of the time- I usually adjust my personality depending on who I'm with. I'm excited to see who I'm matched with ☺️

(You have no idea how tempted I was to just say Dia goes with dia. But no, I actually decided to think about it 😂 I got really into this imaginary relationship I made up, so I hope you like it!)

I match you with Rio Voleri.

Like in most routes and the prince path in the game, the two of you meet because he immediately adopts you into his friend group on your first day of lessons.

Between his eternal sunshine, and your ability to go with any crowd, it's no wonder the two of you hit it off.

He loves to bake for you, it's how he expresses love, but when you offer to help him, sometimes you both end up covered in flour, and the kitchen looks like a bomb went off. Some of your foods have come out with…um….unique flavors, but Rio eats them anyway, cause he knows you made them with love. (Thoma on the other hand hasn't recovered from a couple disasters)

He can be an active bean, so sometimes the two of you will have days where you stay home and read while he practices his fencing. When he comes back, he wants to hear all about your book though! And don't leave anything out!

He finds your dad jokes hilarious. The two of you often enter a dad joke off, because he accidentally makes dad jokes all the time without realizing it.

He loves that you're laid back, because it means that you're willing to try new things, meet new people, and go on adventures with him.

He's excited to show you his kingdom! There's so many more recipes he wants to (attempt to) bake with you!

You and Rio are staring down at the cake pan. Unfortunately, the sky apples you'd put on the bottom of the cake to make a "sky apple upside down cake" had completely dried out in the oven.

"Huh. The cake isn't as moist as it's supposed to be," you said with a frown.

Rio grinned at you. "Not to worry, sunbeam. If we make a drizzle for it, it will work out just fine! Besides, we had fun making it, and that will make all the difference in the flavors!"

He began slicing some more sky apples to make the drizzle, and offered you a slice.

After you both finished the drizzle for the cake, you realized he was right. It returned some moisture, and it looked just how it was supposed to.

Rio grinned at you. "Ready to dig in? I'm starving."

"Apple-solutely." You grinned back.

Rio guffawed, and his laughter became contagious. So with the day saved, and a joke to smooth the way, the two of you sat down to enjoy your cake.

#court of darkness #100 followers #matchups #i had too much fun with this #I got invested #help lol #but like he's such a sweetheart

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bookgeekgrrl · 2 years

Text

My media this week (19-25 Jun 2022)

ᶦⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶦᵐᵐᵒʳᵗᵃˡ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵒᵒʳ 'ᵇᵃᵇʸᵍᶦʳˡ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵒ ʰᵒᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶦⁿˢᵗᶦⁿᶜᵗˢ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵒ ᵇᵃᵈ'

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

😍 Fete For A King (Shivadhverse #1) (Sam Starbuck) - cannot express how much I love this entire universe!!!! This book started as a 'what if there was a hallmark movie where a guy-fieri-like celebrity chef fell for the crown-prince-soon-to-be-king?' - it's sweet and fucking hilarious and very low angst and all the characters are amazing

😍 Infinite Jes (Shivadhverse #2) (Sam Starbuck) - 2nd book in the same universe; a recently retired ex-king at loose ends decides to start a podcast and ends up acquiring more loved ones in the form of a nonbinary producer and their 15-yr-old apprentice/son/disaster magnet

😍 👂‍ The Perfect Crimes of Marian Hayes (The Queer Principles of Kit Webb #2) (Cat Sebastian, author; Joel Leslie, narrator) - fuck, I knew I was going to fucking love Marian Hayes and I wasn't disappointed; give me a prickly, angry romance heroine every day and someone who loves her because their jagged edges fit together

😍 Ain't No Grave (Can Keep My Body Down) (spitandvinegar) - reread, absolute five-star forever fave; always enamoured of the idea that a broken, junkie recovering-from-hydra former asset would find enough of bucky barnes left to adopt two queer homeless kids; all the characterizations in this are incredible

😊 👂‍ Death in the Clouds (Hercule Poirot #13) (Agatha Christie, author; Hugh Fraser, narrator)

😊 Sweet Berries (Cambric Creek #2) (C.M. Nascosta) - mothman monsterfucking romance, very enjoyable

😊 👂‍ Enter the Saint (Simon Templar 'The Saint' #3) (Leslie Charteris, author; John Telfer, narrator) - surprisingly fun action adventure story; what little I knew of The Saint was from the solo hero he would later develop into - I enjoyed this early stuff where he's the leader of a vigilante gang of Bright Young Things

🙂 Dear Mona Lisa… (Claire Davis & Al Stewart) - short novella about a middle-aged synesthete trying to find the right way to come out to his daughter before his impending wedding

💖💖 +311K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

Me and the Lavender Moon (emchant3d) - MCU: shrunkyclunks, 10K - another fantastic part of this series about nonbinary kitchen witch bucky & cap!Steve - really love this entire series so much

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

Fire Island - just as amazing and wonderful on the rewatch; nothing but pure serotonin

Legends of Tomorrow - s6, e8-13

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

99% Invisible #496 - The Rights of Rice and Future of Nature

Twenty Thousand Hertz+ - Breathe

Shedunnit - Bonus: Ask Me Anything Part Two

Strong Songs Bonus Episodes - "Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)" by Kate Bush

Hit Parade - These Are the Good Times

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

Fire Island Movie Soundtrack playlist

Presenting Janet Jackson

Women Who Owned '99

Gotta Get Away!

Pride Anthems

Summer Ska Celebration

Lazy Summer

Presenting Reba McEntire

Up All Night with Nile Rodgers

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the-void-writes · 2 years

Text

Jason and Henry Snippet

For @bloodlessheirbyjacques because I need to restore balance. We’re lucky I write a lot of couple snippets anyway 🤣 No mad cats here

Slightly spicy times here, just the preamble for it. They’re more tender than anything.

(I’m like sleep-deprived and recovering from the flu so if I posted this already I’m so sorry)

————————————————————

The door opened, and Jason dreaded another impromptu meeting with Gabe and his idiotic plan to start a space program. Even Will knew it was a terrible idea. Putting that madman into space, when it was hard enough to control him on Earth, was a recipe for disaster. Some days, Jason truly wondered if Gabe’s mind was just gone. His thought process was a mystery, and if Jason wasn’t careful, someone would get hurt because of it.

“Honey?”

Jason looked up, the heaviness in his chest disappearing at the sound of Henry’s voice as he stepped inside the office.

“How’s it going?”

“I’m just finishing up here. These blueprints need to get to the engineers.”

Henry nodded. “I can deliver them for you, if you want.”

Jason clicked the mouse of his computer. “Actually, I just sent them.”

“Oh, cool… So you’re done?”

“Yes, finally. I’m so sorry for missing dinner.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I just got off of work, so I missed it, too.”

“Did the children eat already?”

“Yep, Colin made them something.”

Jason smiled. They were so lucky to have an aspiring chef among their patients.

“How about Will?”

“All taken care of. He’s sleeping in the dorms with the kids.”

“Perfect, thank you.”

Henry walked over and took his hand. “Come on, let’s get you upstairs.”

The trip up was surprisingly peaceful. Usually, the halls were full of night-shift workers or people just coming back from tests, but tonight, the place seemed empty. As soon as they entered their room, the phone rang. Jason let out a groan that Henry struggled not to laugh at as he hit the speaker button.

“Hello?”

“Henry?” Rio sounded out of breath. “Is Jason there, too?”

“Right here.”

“I’m so sorry to do this to you guys. Gabe wants us all to stand by for his broadcast.”

Jason closed his eyes. “What is it for?”

“Orientation for the new hires. He thinks it’ll boost company loyalty if we all watch it.”

“Pompous bastard,” Jason muttered. “Thanks for letting us know.”

“Yeah, of course. Avery and I made it to the dorms so we can look after the kids.”

That got Jason to smile. “Thank you, Rio. I appreciate it.”

“See you in a bit.”

Jason hung up the phone as Henry turned on the TV. The podium was still being set up, with soft music playing in the background. Henry and Jason sat together on the couch.

“We should make popcorn,” Henry said, “and throw it at him whenever he says something stupid.”

“There’d be none left to eat.”

Henry laughed. “Right.”

“Honestly, we should just put him on mute.”

“… Can we?”

Jason looked perplexed. Henry pointed at the screen.

“I mean, it’s just for the new hires, right? We can just tune him out and have some food.”

“Henry… You’re a genius.”

They muted the TV and turned on their own stereo. Henry knew just what to play: Celestial Hearts, Jason’s favorite album. It always made him laugh when Henry sang along, using whatever was in his hand as a microphone. They cooked up some food and danced around in the kitchen. Miscellaneous employees appeared on the camera feed, and the duo had a blast giving them fake voices.

“Is this the meeting place for Old Farts Anonymous?” That was Henry’s voice for a particular soldier who couldn’t decide which side of the stage he should be on.

“Yes, my good sir.” Jason’s voice for a plastic-looking scientist. “Take a seat for our lecture on prune juice.”

Henry laughed. “Thank you, sir. Will there be gin rummy afterwards?”

“Gin rummy? Is this some sick joke? We play canasta, like human beings!”

“Jay—” Henry choked. “You’re killing me.”

Finally, Gabe appeared on screen. Jason immediately began his best impression of him.

“Esteemed members of our humble facility, I have come to tell you that I’m actually a hologram. The real Vesely has been dead for three decades, and if you can find my severed head in the next twenty-four hours, you shall have full ownership of my greatest creation: the plastic bin I drilled into the copy machine—”

They both lost their composure, giggling into each other’s shoulders. For a few wonderful minutes, their work didn’t exist. This was all there was: late night dinner and jokes. If that was what they did for the rest of their lives, they wouldn’t have minded one bit.

While Vesely brought some scared-looking interns onto the stage, Henry cleaned up the dishes. Even in small moments like this, Jason was thrilled to be in love with him. He walked up and kissed Henry’s cheek.

“Thank you, love.”

“Thank you.”

Jason chuckled. “For what?”

“Being here with me. I’m so glad I met you.”

“Henry—”

“I’m serious. You’re my best friend, and the only person I’d ever want to spend the rest of my life with. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at anyone else when I thought you were dead.”

Jason grew somber, and Henry swiftly grabbed his hands.

“Sorry, that wasn’t to insult you. I’m happy that you found comfort in Rio, even if it didn’t last. I know that you still loved me.”

“You do?”

“Absolutely, and I still loved you, too. That’s my point. After everything this company has done to us, it’s only made my feelings for you stronger. You’re the one, I’m sure of it.”

“… Henry.”

He brought Jason in for a kiss, and then another one, and another. Henry grabbed the counter to steady himself. Jason pulled away breathlessly.

“May I show you just how much I love you?”

Henry grinned. “During our boss’ broadcast? How scandalous, Mister Prescott.”

Jason flushed at the name. “That’s how confident you are?”

“In us? Definitely.”

“Good, so am I.” He kissed him again. “Follow me, please.”

“Right,” Henry said, “I can’t focus if that asshole’s face is in the background.”

Jason laughed and pulled him into the bedroom. Henry carefully removed his partner’s prosthesis and suspension sock. He had memorized the whole process with ease, and Jason’s heart melted each time he showed it. They had come so far just to get here, and now it was time to enjoy it. Jason took Henry’s glasses and put them aside so he could properly kiss him. Hands ran through each other’s hair, trailing down to shirt collars and hems.

Henry couldn’t help himself as he fluttered his fingers across Jason’s back. His laughter made his eyes sparkle.

“Henry!”

“Sorry, honey.”

“Are you?”

Henry grinned. “No, not really.”

Jason crossed his arms. “You’re cruel, Prescott.”

“Aww, Jay.”

He kissed Jason’s neck, and a smile fought its way onto his face.

“Okay, I forgive you.”

“Thanks. I’ll make it up to you.”

As he continued to kiss at his neck, Jason hummed in bliss. He undid the buttons on Henry’s shirt, caressing the soft skin underneath.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

Henry chuckled. “Yeah, but I still don’t know why.”

Jason stopped, appalled by what he just said. “You— You—”

He tried to stand, forgetting that his prosthesis was placed aside. Henry caught him and helped him up.

“Jay, what—”

“Look into the mirror, please.”

Henry glanced over at the standing mirror beside their dresser. Jason held him close, lovingly tracing the outline of his body.

“You are gorgeous,” he whispered. “Every dip, every curve, it’s pure art.”

The delicateness of his touch, the sincerity of his voice… He knew how to make someone feel special. Henry leaned his head on Jason’s shoulder.

“You’re sure you don’t want someone strong, like Rio?”

Jason wheezed. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“But—”

“This is you, Henry. These shapes are yours, and I adore them, just as I adore you.”

He wiped the tears from Henry’s cheeks. Slowly, Jason helped him remove his shirt.

“Besides,” he said, “you’re actually stronger than Rio.”

Henry blinked. “What?”

“You know those ion lasers aren’t meant to be carried, right? That’s why Rio puts them on carts.”

He smiled sheepishly. “Oh, I didn’t know.”

Jason chuckled. “It’s okay. I thought it was cool.”

“You did?”

“Well, I don’t want you doing it anymore, but it was amazing.”

Henry winked. “Did I look good?”

“You always look good to me—” He grinned. “But in that moment, you were the hottest soldier there.”

That was all it took for Henry’s face to turn red. Jason peeked outside the room while he recovered.

“He’s still going,” he said, shaking his head.

Henry grabbed his hand. “Good, I don’t want him calling us for a good while.”

He led Jason back onto the bed and helped him take off his sweater. His skin wasn’t as warm as Henry’s, but it still felt nice and smooth. Tenderly, he kissed along Jason’s shoulders and down his chest. Jason cupped his face and brought him back up.

“I love you.”

Henry smiled. “I love you too… my sweet angel.”

#writeblr #writing community #wip: freaks of preston

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owlhousefansblog · 2 years

Text

The new girl

So it took 3 years later, all was well. Boiling Isles was saved, Luz has Eda and King with her and Vee and her mother of course and Amity Willow and Gus visited her 2 or 3 times a week. Hunter had stayed with Luz in the human realm to learn more about his past, but because he was theoretically related to Philip, he usually had to leave for his duties as the official Governor Hunter with Eda and Lilith as helpers. Boiling Isles was changing more and more it was a peaceful place and yes the symbols had been removed now everyone could control what they wanted. Gus Amity and Luz were still in high school, you wonder how they saw each other so rarely? well..luz had done one semester each year, one semester on earth and one semester in the Boiling Isles. It wasn't that practical but still she only had a year left and quite a lot to recover her luck is that she had Vee and Hunter helping her with math and astrology and a little arithmetic. And on the magic side, Luz trained for that every day, occasionally having an adventure with her favorite gang.One day when Luz was returning from high school, she passed by that old and shabby house. Every time she looked at it, she remembered all the adventures she had spent in that dreamland and her desire to become a witch only grew over the years, there was nothing that would hold her back. While staring at the door she saw a light, she went to see what it was but when she opened the door she didn'tsee anything unusual so she closed it and continued on her way.

When she got home it was crazy, she could hear screams and there was coke everywhere, Luz was just petrified but she was able to whistle and the noise stopped instantly.

Hunter's blond hair peeked out from behind the kitchen door and a chef's hat at the window.

o h-hey Luz...you um went out earlier huh? *Hunter appears from behind the door, dirty with coke and with a grim face of guilt hidden behind a smile and sweat

Gosh what did you two do again? if mom sees this she will faint!

well we wanted to actually try to cook something, you know, for tonight? *Vee stands up, just as full of energy*

ok fine let me put on an apron and help you *said Luz*

Thanks Luz we are a disaster *Hunter said*

more him *said Vee laughing*

*Later*

I'm out I can't do this anywhere *said Luz*

me too*said Hunter*

I will never cook again in my entire life *said Vee*

All 3 were passed out on the couch,they were dirty and tired

Luz?

what's up now vee

what do we do with guests?

OH SHIT I TOTALLY FORGET ABOUT THEM *Luz instantly gets up from the couch *

that's bad, we look horrible and I need to finish some papers from the castle until tomorrow *Hunter gets up instantly*

ok um.. I'm going to wash myself so that when they come I'll hang out with them until you get settled and after they leave we'll help you with the documents, okay? come on come on we don't have much time

they complied and the evening turned out perfectly. No matter how tired they were, none of them had let anything show. After they left, as promised, Luz and Vee helped Hunter with the documents and all 3 fell dead from exhaustion, the bad part was that Luz had to finish some homework for you tomorrow and Luz was at the last deviation. Luz had a big problem with waking up in the morning and how tired she had been in the afternoon, she had forgotten her homework. Luz and Vee were not at the same school and as usual Luz was eager to adapt sometimes the first bullying but she doesn't care because she finally had what she wanted a real family that really understood her. He only cared about Amity, Gus and Willow and the good friendship they had.

Oh it was her, the baddest girl in the whole school, not as bad as Belos by any means but quite bad and intimidating, she liked to make fun of Luz, and when Luz ignored her then the real fun started. She usually liked to torture her even beating her a few times. But that doesn't mean she doesn't fight, and even though they fought so many times and she and Luz got hurt quite badly, she was the director's daughter and Luz couldn't really do anything about it. Yes, she had protested a few times, but it wasn't enough. Today was one of those days where she had to put her pretty face on, Katlin had challenged her to a match ofc she doesn't want to go but she was threatened that her mother would lose her job so she had to do But she will do it without magic, no help, it's just between them, not even Vee or Hunter or her mother knew what she was doing and why she was late for dinner in that evening. But she had managed to beat her so badly that she had managed to put fear into her, of course she didn't escape without a broken nose, a cut lip and a few bruises. He had bruises all over his body but she could stand. All the way she didn't know how to tell them what happened because they would be alarmed, but if she didn't come they would be more alarmed. Outside, she was covered in mud and her face was covered in blood, but at least she had managed to save her mother and to fight 1 on 1 without magic, it seems that all the training with Hunter had paid off.

when she opened the door she saw Hunter Vee Camila Willow Gus and Amity waiting for her. When Luz saw them, she froze, and when they saw her, they looked scared.

G-Guys...what are you doing here? *said Luz still standing in the door*

LUZ! OMG WHAT'S HAPPENED WITH YOU?!*Amity comes towards her and hugs her*

oh hey Sweet Potato *Luz mutters*

Mija, what's happening?! who did this to you??

it's not important, mother, I'm fine *said Luz*

everyone was stirring around her, only Hunter was sitting in a thoughtful and suspicious corner of the crowd

Guys look I'm Happy You are here but I need to rest and make a shawore *said Luz getting up from the middle of the crowd and crawling to the stairs*

let me help you *says Willow*

No, I'm fine, thanks*she had gone upstairs*

That evening none of them went back and they waited to see how Luz felt. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't sleep, the bruises hurt her, but she had peace in her heart.

Lost in thought, looking out the window, she hadn't heard the knock on the door, so when the door opened, she got scared

It was her, wasn't she? *Hunter's voice came from the darkness of her room

Part 1

#viral #owl house #fyppage #beta luz #lumity

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neeharlow · 9 months

Text

The amount of do as I say not as I do in this house is insane. Now I love my in-laws. They are the most amazing people. They literally saved my life when the doctor was going to deny me transplant. But omfg. I’m. Not. A. Maid. And after having what my surgeon called “one of the most brutal procedures to recover from..” I shouldn’t be having to do this shit one week out. Now to preface this I have a HUGE problem asking for help and I often times will deny it if offered (thanx dad! >:( )

Father in law: Make sure you always clean up your mess in the kitchen and leave it ready for the next people to use.

The past week, and even before I went into the hospital, they make dinner and leave everything out. Don’t clean the food they didn’t eat off their plates after eating, leave the trash from food prep all over the kitchen, leave the dishes everywhere (in the sink, on the stove, on the table) and just leave the kitchen in utter chaos. Now they work hard. 7 days a week. They own two quilt shops and are burdened by a ton of stress so I completely understand leaving it over night and taking care of it in the morning. But when it sits there for days, that pisses me off. Especially if I or my husband were to do the same thing, I’d sure the fuck hear about it. With either a note about the it being a community kitchen or a lecture.

Now due to Father of the Century aka my POS emotionally abusive father who would scream at me until he was hoarse over the littlest messes, I have bad, bad, bad, anxiety about messes. So I end up cleaning their mess just so I can calm my own ass down. Plus I always feel like I’m never doing enough, (even though I’m 3rd stage liver disease, end stage renal disease and heart issues who is waiting for transplant and has rarely any energy to feed myself let alone clean other people’s shit.) so not doing anything just adds to the anxiety.

Now, I admit, I am not the cleanliest person. My husband and I’s room is such a disaster. (He’s a hoarder and we both have ADHD) that we have moved temporarily into the guestroom until we can get our bedroom sorted out. And honestly, it’s been sitting there for three months untouched because my husband works nights and has stressed induced narcolepsy. So he walks in, sees the mess, gets stressed out and gets over whelming tired and I barely have strength half the time to do anything.

Back to the kitchen. A week ago, I go into the hospital and get what is called a spleen embolization. That is where when you have an enlarged spleen that keeps stealing all the blood and hoarding it, they can go in and insert metal coils into it cutting off the blood supply, basically killing off pert of it so it will stop being an asshole. This is the second time I’ve had this. So I know when the doctors tell me it is one of the worst and painful experiences I know they aren’t fucking around. It was working for 4 years, everyone was hoping I’d have been transplanted before they had to do it again because the risks the second time around are much worse. From infection to the spleen becoming just a giant mass. But unfortunately my meld score (liver disease sickness score) isn’t high enough for me to be very high on the wait list.

Anyway, I get home.. there are no glasses, no plates, and no bowls. Now I know the bowls are my husband. He takes them into the room and they never come out. But seriously? No glasses? They said there just wasn’t enough to run the dishwasher. Which okay, I understand that. I’ve been home three days and the kitchen sits looking like a scene out of Hoarders. I finally get pissed enough that I doubled my Norco (bad! very very bad! I have been addicted to opioids before, actually the last time I had this procedure is when I became hooked on dilauted, an opioid ten times stronger than heroine.) and cleaned the kitchen. Not a single thank you. Not even an acknowledgement that hey, you’re NOT supposed to be doing ANYTHING right now.

Two weeks in and I’m still the only one cleaning the kitchen. My husband gets on me constantly for over doing it. And he’s offered more than once to help me or even do it himself. But because my ass is a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to cleaning (the plates are stacked by colors and size as are the silverware and glasses) so even if he did it I’d still be in there redoing whatever he did. My mother-in-law was a professional maid for a period of her life so when she cleans, she is damn good at it.

Today was the straw that broke the camels back. One of them thought it would be a good idea to store two slushes in two zip-block baggies IN THE FRIDGE. Nope, not the freezer where they wouldn’t melt. But the fucking fridge. I go to make my husband some food because he has a migraine and there is this red liquid all over the middle shelf. It’s sticky and all the food on the shelf is sitting in an inch of it. I find the two bags. One white one didn’t leak. But the I pick up the red one and it starts draining all over the fridge. I’m fucking LIVID. Due to having to do so much I’m on my last norco. So after cleaning their dinner mess I now had to clean the fridge. When cleaning out the fridge I found a ton of expired food. Which I can’t throw out because fucking CA has this thing where food waste can’t be put in the trash, it has to go in the green waste. However, my father-in-law’s fear of animals getting into the green waste I can’t. So I just throw everything into a garbage bag and threw it right back in the fridge. Not. My. Fucking. Problem.

So now I have zero pain pills left because I went through them like they were water in order to actually clean and take care of shit because no one else would. And I’m terrified of getting more because 1) my past history with pain killers & 2) It’s too soon and I don’t want to be flagged as an addict at the doctors office. It was difficult for me to get off them back in 2020, I have three generations of addicts in my family. So there is nothing for me to do other than just suffer through it. Due to my liver/kidney issues I can’t have normal OTC stuff like ibuprofen or Tylenol. Gonna be a fun rest of recovery. :(

#vent post #don't reblog

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bozowrites · 2 years

Text

happy birthday to me

bruno x fem!reader : it's pepa's best friend's birthday.

w/c : 1.2k

a/n : it's my birthday, so enjoy some self indulged encanto fic. its a tad bruno, but mostly just madrigal fam

masterlist | navigation

i haven’t left my house—my room since i woke up. and that was close to two hours ago. today was a “special day”, my birthday, and yet nothing felt special about it. i was excited for the days leading up, but now i just want it to be over. so, i lay in bed, not knowing what to do. it all just seems so bland.

knock knock knock

there goes laying in bed for another hour. i get up, grabbing my shawl and throwing it over my shoulders. opening the door, no person awaits on the other side, but some furry little creators. they each make little noises of their own, speaking in a way i don’t understand. i smile though. antonio was for sure behind this. he was a sweetheart. “give me a minute.” i tell them before closing the door to go back and change out of my nightgown. i’m barely slipping my shoes on when the animals bang on my door again, impatiently no doubt. i laugh, stumbling out the door with my shoes finally on. the animals all skitter around me, leading me to la casa madrigal. i’d thought about going over the moment i awoke, but i didn't want to be a bother. i go over tons and it’s like a second home, but somehow it still felt troublesome for me to be over. especially with bruno returning only just a couple months ago, i don’t want to be in the way of family bonding time. i mean, the man was gone for ten years, living in the walls as pepa told me, so, of course, they need time.

la casita let the animals and me in the moment we stepped foot on the property, taking me to the center of the entrance room. i sway a bit, trying to balance myself after being moved so fast and suddenly by la casita. as i look around, i notice decorations put in every corner and the amazing smell of food coming from the kitchen. a banner is hung high from the upstairs balcony, painted beautifully feliz cumpleaños y/n!

oh…

“happy birthday!” each member of the family pops out from upstairs, grinning from ear to ear and shouting to me. i laugh loudly, feeling a prick of tears in the corner of my eye. pepa comes running down the stairs, catching me in an embrace and whispering a smaller happy birthday to me. i thank her, looking past her and seeing the rest of the family coming to give me a hug. they do so and i accept each one. i even got one from bruno. i’d spoken to the man only a few times. during the rebuild of their casa and the very few times i was over and we bumped into each other.

“happy birthday, y/n. we hardly know each other, but any friend of pepa’s is a friend of mine!” he exclaims grinning widely. i smile. “thank you, bruno.”

pepa brought me back into her arms. light rain had started to sprinkle over us as a cloud formed over her head. “why didn’t you come over sooner?” she asks. félix gently moves her back, saying she’d get me wet. “good question.” i smile awkwardly, looking around to find anything to get the conversation off my absence. “better question, why haven’t you been coming around at all?” damn you, camilo.

“yeah, tía y/n, we hardly ever see you anymore!” antonio frowns.

“i almost forgot what you looked like!” camilo changes to look like me and no matter how many times he does it, it still looks weird to see me from others point of view.

“tía y/n, are you okay? it’s like after la casita was rebuilt you disappeared…” mirabel frowns too. i chuckle awkwardly. that’s what i do, i laugh in situations that are not for laughing. “i came over a few times.”

“you came over three times in the last two months, dear.” juleita says, putting a hand on my shoulder. i look around me and everyone seems so sad because of my absence. i did not expect this.

“sorry. i wanted to give you all some time to recover from the whole miracle disaster thing, catch up with bruno and stuff.” i glance over at said man. he gives me a small lopsided smile and i can't ignore the small skip of my heart beat.

“mija, you are practically part of la familia madrigal, you should be here with us.” alma said, taking my hands into hers. she said she always considered me like another daughter when i'd gotten really close with pepa and came around la casa to help around whenever i could. albeit, she wasn’t as hard on me as she was the rest of her family.

“right…”

“shall we eat? mamá made all your favourites!” mirabel grabbed me by the arm and dragged me to their dining room. i took a seat next to pepa, camilo on my other side, bruno across from me. i looked at all the food and it was indeed all my favourites. “thank you.”

“you’re welcome, tía, it was all my idea really.” camilo boasts, handing me the cream. i laugh. “oh, really?”

“it’s true,” pepa smiles fondly. “he asked if we could throw you a surprise a few days ago.”

“you’re his favourite tía.” dolores says nonchalantly. camilo laughs nervously. “that’s not true…”

“i heard you muttering about how much you missed her.” dolores smirked. pepa cooed and reached around me to squeeze his shoulder. he groans. i lean over and give him a hug, squeezing him as hard as i can. “you’re too sweet, cami!”

the lunch they made for me would be enough to fill me till tomorrow. i caught up with all the drama and fun i’d missed in the last couple months. i got to know bruno. he was funny, making me laugh a lot. he had a way with the kids too. they seemed to love him, even if they’d missed him half their lives. and everytime he looked in my direction i couldn’t help the blush that took over my cheeks. he was far too attractive for his own good.

“y/n?” pepa shakes me by my shoulders. i look up at her in question. “what?”

“you’re staring at mi hermano bruno.” the tease in her voice does not go unnoticed by me. we were done with lunch and had moved to sit around outside. everyone was doing their own thing. bruno just happened to be across from me in my line of sight and chatting with félix.

“shut up, pepa.”

a light sprinkle started to go again, though i did not mind. i like how she was letting her gift be what it wanted. “you and him would be so fantastic! if you and him married, you could be a part of la familia officially!” i gulp. “pepa! you are getting ahead of yourself!” the rain cloud became heavier as she got more into the idea of bruno and me. i was starting to soak a bit.

“mami! why are you drizzling?” camilo shouted over to us. dolores walked over to him and whispered in his ear. camilo looked like he was seeing stars with a large grin on his face and sparkling eyes.

i groan. “por el amor de dios.”

#encanto headcanons #encanto imagines #encanto x reader #bruno imagines #encanto bruno x reader #bruno headcanons #bruno x reader #bruno madrigal x reader #madrigal x reader #disney x reader #encanto fluff #bruno fluff

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gatheringbones · 3 years

Text

["At the end of August in 1981, I found myself in a small town in Arkansas, where I knew no Lesbians other than my new lover, Lynn. I wanted it that way. We were living in hiding from my armed and vengeful ex-lover who had abused me for four years and had threatened both of us with deadly harm. This was five years before the publication of Kerry Lobel's ground-breaking book, Naming the Violence: Speaking Out About Lesbian Battering. I knew I had been battered, but I did not understand how deeply I had been injured.

I only knew that I seemed to have saved my life at the cost of my sanity. I jumped at loud and not-so-loud noises. A frown from a stranger could reduce me to tears. I was afraid to bathe if I was alone in the apartment. I relived every word of every fight in relentless flashbacks. I had blocked much of the unbearable pain of the previous four years out of my consciousness at the time, in order to cope with immediate danger. Now that I was "safe" it all came flooding back. To escape, I watched TV compulsively, avoiding anything violent—nature shows were my favorites—and I read science fiction. Having lost faith in women as well as men, I was a serious candidate for a species-change operation.

Luckily, at some point in that bleak winter, I read a magazine article on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) in Vietnam Vets, and I recognized all my symptoms. I had a name for my suffering, and 1 knew I was not "crazy." I'd felt so much guilt and anger towards myself for not being okay, that is, my old self, since I was "free." Now I knew healing would take time and effort, and I gave myself permission to not be normal right away. Also, seeing how much my condition resembled that of war survivors helped break down some of my denial about the hell I'd been through.

Still, I had no guidance on how to recover from PTSD. I followed only the dimmest instincts. First, I began to read accounts by survivors of any serious trauma. These people became my invisible support group. I found myself drawn especially to stories of political prisoners and concentration camp survivors. Although my experience was not like theirs, these were the people I felt would understand how my will had been sapped and my strengths twisted, how the smallest acts of resistance and mere endurance had needed all my wits and courage. Bruno Bettleheim in his chapters called "Behavior in Extreme Situations" (The Informed Heart) finally answered the question I'd put to myself every 44 hour since my escape: "How could I have been so stupid?" He made me realize that under abuse, especially the combination of intermittent threats, unpredictable violence and constant psychological torture, everyone responds differently, but everyone changes fundamentally, and everyone has their breaking point.

One day as I sat reading at the kitchen table, I looked out the window at the small yard beside our duplex apartment, and I began to imagine growing a garden there in the spring. It seemed like a highly improbable idea: the area was very small, steep, bare of everything but gray shale and orange clay, and the house shaded it part of the day. But the notion of a garden took root strongly. For the first time in several years I had something pleasant to anticipate.

I wrangled my landlady's permission to put in a garden. Then I mailed off postcards for seed catalogs. I persuaded an acquaintance who owned a truck to bring me a load of cedar slabs discarded by a local sawmill, and I used these to construct two frames, about four feet by six feet, and two even smaller ones, just three feet by four feet. By this time Lynn and I had saved enough money to buy a very old VW bug, so we drove to a nearby creekbank and filled bushel baskets with rich bottom dirt, which we dumped into the frames to make raised beds about four inches deep.

To supplement the tiny growing space, Lynn scavenged large cans from the cafeteria of the hospital where she worked. I painted them a hopeful green, filled them with soil and placed them along the sidewalk below our porch. Old-timey "Corn-row Beans," originally bred to tolerate the shade of cornfields, grew up strings tied to the roof and bore prolifically.

I didn't have much money from my SSI income to spend on garden gadgets, so I made do. I wove a trellis for my peas from six-pack rings liberated from a liquor store trash bin. (I can testify that this plastic never biodegrades—the pea fence survives to this day.) I got some more bushel baskets from the local grocery, painted them with non-toxic preservative and lined them with garbage bags after snipping a few drainage holes in the bottom. Placed around a small stone patio above the garden, these became containers for large plants.

The garden rewarded me before the first mouthful of early spinach was harvested. It moved me out of the gloomy apartment and into the sunshine, watering can in hand. It motivated me to interact with people and to occasionally risk asking for help. I found out they would usually say yes. My attention was now focused on the future, not the bitter, unchangeable past. At night when the flashbacks threatened to roll, when I dreaded the dreams I might have, I put myself to sleep with 45 detailed plans of my next crop rotation. I found out I could learn a major new skill, a little at a time. I could do things right, even come up with ingenious solutions to seemingly impossible difficulties. And when I did things wrong, plants were most often forgiving. The plants themselves were a tremendous source of inspiration. Talk about survivors! They defied every book written about their needs, often thriving with too little sun, too little water, and too little soil. At the end of a year, I could easily stick my shovel in the dirt up to the hilt, where only four inches of top soil had previously existed; compost and the action of the roots had created friable loam out of shale and clay.

When I experienced failure with gardening, it was never the kind of disaster I'd grown to associate with mistakes. We didn't go hungry, because other crops outstripped our expectations. My lover didn't beat or berate me, but sympathized and helped. The garden was important to us economically, because we'd both lost almost everything we owned in our escape. Luckily, in southern Arkansas, it's possible to garden yearround. The garden gave me precious, desperately needed tastes of success. Disabled, unemployed, I still felt like an important contributor to the household. I even had food to give away sometimes, and that was a delicious feeling.

Gardening was not the only factor in my recovery, but it was an important one. I didn't grow up with abuse, but battering and similar traumas can expand minutes into hours, years into decades, until four years feel like most of a lifetime. At the end of a year and a half of gardening, I no longer felt as if I'd spent the majority of my life in a battering situation. Healing had acquired a new definition for me: I didn't insist on having the old me back; I'd mourned her long and well. I accepted the fact that some injuries are too severe to be made whole, that I might never be the same again. But I began to actually like and trust the me I am now, scars and all. As my garden taught me, I must make do with what I am. I have discovered that my flaws are not fatal and my successes are greater than I'd hoped for. So far I have not gone hungry, and I even have something to offer."]

Amy Edgington, Gaining Ground, from Garden Variety Dykes: Lesbian Traditions In Gardening, Herbooks, 1994

#amy edgington #lesbian literature #terra preta #cw abuse #you are a goddamn tree stump with leaves sprouting out

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floral-poisons · 2 years

Note

helloo may i ask vice dorm leaders comforting a reader who believes they don't have any talents/skills Thank u :))

hi anon!! of course you may! i myself struggle with that mindset so i'm happy to provide. it’s really hard to get out of that mental state but with practice and affirmations and whatever else works for you, it’ll come to pass. it’s a hard journey that i’m sure a lot of us (including myself) are trying to recover from. stay strong all of you!! you got this! you’re all talented! i cherish all of you!! 💕💕💕

also i’m sorry for the people who don’t like garlic but why don’t you like garlic and who are lactose intolerant. jamil’s portion involves garlic and lactose.

LILIA VANROUGE

“i’ve seen a lot of things in my lifetime. but none quite as special as you~”

“lilia, don’t sugarcoat it.” you scoff as you measure out the liquid within the tube and pour it into the cauldron.

“but it’s true. malleus is quite special. but he doesn’t have many qualities outside of magic. his social skills need quite a bit of work.” lilia writes down a note as he watches you.

“but i’m not special. i’m not talented.”

“you keep ignoring everything i say and that’s going to get you nowhere. i’m much older than you would think.”

“yeah i know. i figured that out when i saw you in the textbook.”

“precisely! now where was i? oh yes. you’re talented. just not in the way-”

“the rest of the school is? got that when i got here.” you stirred the pot a few times before adding a dash of whatever powder was in the bottle.

“who’s the one who keeps defeating all the overblotted students?”

“ummm my friends? duh?”

“okay and who’s the one that managed to get your friends together and force them to collaborate and eventually settle their differences and learn how to cooperate in times of great danger?” you immediately went quiet. “exactly. and that’s your talent!”

“it’s not a talent lilia.”

“but it is. some people don’t know how to work together. some people don’t have good people skills. but you do.” he hands you another vial with a liquid. “some people think selfishly. others think about the greater good. you’re good at reading people and that itself is a talent.”

you felt your heart begin to beat faster. “really?” you mutter.

“yes of course! there’s nothing you have to worry about. there’s plenty of people without magic just like you, you know. it just so happens you ended up at a magic school.” he places a hand on your shoulder. “your qualities would be what leaders would look for. i promise.”

a small smile crosses your face. “thanks lilia-”

the thanks was interrupted by a sudden explosion from your cauldron, causing you to flinch. “shit...”

“(y/n)! lilia!” professor crewel exclaims.

“sorry!” the both of you sheepishly apologized after class.

TREY CLOVER

“it’s okay (y/n). baking is something that requires experience.” trey chuckles as he looks onto your...disaster of an attempt of a tart.

“trey, i don’t think i told you but i have no talents. not even in mundane things like cooking and baking.” it just was not meant for you. you loved the idea of cooking. you loved baking. but you just didn’t seem to be good at it. raw or overcooked. too much flour, too little flour. too much salt or too little salt. it might also be because you tried to do things based on instinct but other things would go wrong in the kitchen too. a common phenomenon was you dropping things.

“you just need to keep trying.”

“but i have tried so hard! i’m just not good at anything. i have no talent.” it didn’t help that your family only continued to ridicule you when you were younger. they never provided any sense of encouragement or acceptance regardless of what the product was. unless it fit perfectly into their idea of perfection.

trey cuts himself a slice of your tart and uses a fork to cut a piece. he doesn’t react as he eats it. “not bad. you have a nice balancing of flavors.”

“that’s out of pure luck.” you muttered.

“pure luck is good.” he puts the plate down. “you have talents though. just like the rest of us.”

“trey, you can literally overwrite things. that’s like the equivalent of changing matter.”

“okay let’s forget about me. what about you? what are your talents?”

“none.”

“just think.” he raises an eyebrow. “must i remind you who was the one who helped bring riddle back from his overblot? who orchestrated the whole attack? who brought people together.”

“that is sheer luck-”

“that was not sheer luck and you know it.” trey interrupts you. he never does. “you need to give yourself more credit (y/n). besides, you’re a beast tamer. beast tamers are plenty talented.” he gently pats you on the back. “i would’ve asked riddle to collar grim by now if i were with him. you have patience. and courage. and those are not easy to come by.”

ROOK HUNT

“great seven! i suck!” you exclaim, watching the arrow completely miss the target.

“patience dear trickster. it takes a while to get used to.” rook’s arrow hit the bullseye straight on.

“my arm hurts from pulling on the quiver so much.”

“that happens when you practice archery.” rook set his bow down and walked over to the target, pulling out the arrows one by one. you, on the other hand, had to run and collect them.

“you should just give up on me. there’s no point in trying to teach me.”

“and why is that dear trickster?” he frowns.

“because i have no talents. or skills. especially in a sport like archery. and before you say anything, you have no say. you’ve been doing this since what? since you were a kid? so you have no room to talk.”

“well everyone starts somewhere trickster. to deny yourself of the possibility of a new talent or skill is...well, unbecoming.” he pulled out the last arrow. “i don’t think you understand that talents and skills need to be cultivated. they don’t just come.”

“then how are you so good at this?”

“muscle memory. lots of rigorous practice when i was younger and still today. you can be naturally good at something but if you don’t polish it then it’s going to rust away. a sword can only be as good as the metal that reinforces it.”

“you love metaphors, don’t you?”

“but it’s true trickster. and you know it.” he sends you a glance with his green eyes. “do you think we all somehow just came up with our signature spells? and all mastered it? the point of nrc is to polish our magic skills so we may be prepared in the future. you just happen to have no spell to work on currently. your refinement comes in your mind. and your mind, trickster, is your talent.” he gently taps your forehead. “the capabilities of the mind are endless. and therefore, so are yours. so you see, you’re not talentless or without skill. you’re merely floating around and trying to find something that works for you.”

a small sigh left your lips as you come to accept rook’s words of kindness. “i guess so.”

“that’s better! now let’s try again!”

RUGGIE BUCCHI

“if i keep my standards low-”

“then you won’t be disappointed.” ruggie finishes. “yeah i get that. it’s easier that way. but then that means when you get higher than you expected, it makes you feel better. it makes the mediocre feel...advanced.”

“yeah...i guess you would understand what it feels like.”

“of course i do. it’s hard since my magic wasn’t really developed until i came here.” ruggie adjusts his scarf.

“so why are you here?”

“well, i thought i’d check up on you. because you know, it’s hard going to school with such exceptional people. there will always be people that are going to be better than you and i.”

“figured that one out.” you bury your face in between your knees.

“that doesn’t mean we’re not talentless.”

“you have magic. i don’t.”

“and yet you’re a beast tamer.” ruggie smiles. “beast tamers are well respected in the sunset savannah you know. there’s no shame in not having magic because there are other skills to hone.”

“like?”

“like leadership skills. public speaking. catching mistakes that many people would ignore. you’re not alone and you have talents is basically what i want to say.”

“i see.” you mutter, looking at him.

“now come on. let’s go get some lunch. i’m hungry.”

JADE LEECH

“there is an art to making coffee-”

“which is a talent i do not possess.”

jade frowned. “(y/n), don’t say that.”

“but jade, it’s true! i can’t bake, can’t really make a decent cup of coffee. everything is just so hard.”

“you need patience is all.”

“but how can i have patience when i don’t have any talents?”

jade rose his eyebrows upon hearing that. “you believe you don’t have any talents?” he questions.

“yes. i was always the ordinary one in my family.” you sulk in your seat, looking down at the cup of coffee you brewed. “even before i came here, i felt like i had nothing to offer even before coming here. except now that i am here it’s like amplified times ten.”

“i see.” jade began to write something down on a piece of paper. “now tell me what’s the grand total of all these items?” he slides it over.

you don’t even hesitate. “7,890 thaumarks.”

“table of four but they suddenly bring two more people?”

“immediately put them at table 17.”

“discount of 15% for this item?”

“2,509 thaumarks.”

jade smiles. “perfect. and you say you don’t have any skills or talents?”

“because i don’t!” then it hit you. “oh...”

“your memory is sharp. and your math skills are impeccable. you know how to handle people well and how to plot out the tables and turn them over in a timely manner. i would say you’re full of talent and skills.”

you, flustered, scoffed. “it’s only because i used to work in service back on my homeworld.”

“sure.”

JAMIL VIPER

“i get it.” is all he says as he sits down next to you.

“no you don’t.” you mutter.

jamil could only scoff. “didn’t you literally just stop my overblot like last week?”

you felt yourself shrink into your sweater out of embarrassment. it felt like forever ago when jamil overblotted and went against kalim. perhaps, you figured, the reason why you bunkered down in your dorm whenever you could after was that jamil’s overwhelming feelings of inferiority matched your own. he reminded you of yourself. a little too much.

“it’s hard.” he opens the basket and hands you something wrapped in foil. “here. you need to eat fresh food instead of that instant stuff from mr. s’s shop.”

you took the item and unwrapped it. the smell of garlic immediately hit your nose and you felt your muscles relax. “it’s my family’s garlic naan recipe. quite simple but it’s the small things you do that makes a difference in how it tastes.” he explains. you bite into it, tasting the slight char that compliments the garlic.

“anyways where was i going with this? oh yeah. it’s easy to feel like you’re not special here. or everywhere.” jamil pulls out two mugs with lids. he removes a lid and hands it to you. “mango lassi.”

“thanks.” you take it and take a sip.

jamil removes the lid from his mug and takes a sip. “but everyone’s talented. that’s why it’s called a signature spell. it’s something unique to you.”

“but i don’t have magic.”

“and yet people here can’t lead for shit.”

you almost covered your mouth from shock. jamil cursing was...truly out of the ordinary. “act shocked later.” he rolled his eyes. “you may not have a signature spell but...you’re unique in that you have a sense of charisma that brings people together. kind of like kalim i guess. we wouldn’t have been able to do anything without you leading us. we’re so wrapped up in our uniqueness at this school that we forget to collaborate with others. your ability to bring people together makes you a natural leader. and that in of itself is a signature spell.”

“oh...wow...” you buried your embarrassed face within the mug, downing the mango lassi. “thanks...jamil...you didn’t have to do any of this.”

“nonsense. i care about you. and i understand how it feels. besides i had leftover food and grim says he’s tired of seeing you feast on instant food.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #heartslabyul #diasomnia #pomefiore #octavinelle #savanaclaw #lilia vanrouge #trey clover #rook hunt #ruggie bucchi #jade leech #jamil viper #scarabia

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tennessoui · 3 years

Note

hi all of your aus are amazing! pls what happens with divorced!obiwan and the twins?

hey!! sorry this took so long i had to think of an appropriate cliffhanger

this is a continuation of this ficlet and this ficlet, where divorced!obi-wan accidentally acquires a partner and a set of twins.

(2k WHOOPS)

The twins are not, and probably have never been described by anyone except their father, angels. They take to Obi-Wan as well as Obi-Wan takes to them, which is to say that all three of them watch each other suspiciously until one day Luke launches himself off the top of the fridge--how the fuck did he manage to get up there--and Obi-Wan drops his morning toast in a frantic bid to catch him.

After that, Leia and Luke apparently decide he is Another Anakin Who Is Just Around A Lot Less But Is Better At Reading Bedtime Stories and deign to treat him as such.

Obi-Wan decides that he’s going to have a heart attack by the age of fifty. Do all children see a childproof house as a challenge?

It somehow takes both a longer and shorter time to win over Anakin’s favor, mostly because Obi-Wan isn’t sure what the man’s thinking at any given moment. He seems to blow hot and cold depending on how he woke up or how the work day goes. Some days, Obi-Wan comes home from campus and Anakin and the twins have waited to eat until he’s there. Sometimes they’ve eaten and there’s a meal under foil on the stove just for Obi-Wan.

(“I don’t know how you do it,” Obi-Wan tells him one night after the children are put to bed. “I mean, work from home with your job, mind the children, and cook?”

“They made me head of the R&D department a few months ago,” Anakin admits, taking a sip of his second glass of wine. “So I’m doing a lot more checking through other people’s work instead of making my own. It just means I can do that and make something edible--no, really, you just can’t cook, Obi-Wan, I’m not the best either.”

“Do you miss getting to make something other than food?” Obi-Wan asks eventually, giving himself enough time to recover from the sound of the other’s giggles.

Anakin shrugs languidly. “It’s better salary, and I’m the youngest ever in the company to have the position. Means I’ll pay off my student loans quicker, same with my mom’s hospital bills. Doesn’t matter what I want.”

Obi-Wan’s chest hurts and he wants to lean across the gap between their chairs and place his hand on Anakin’s arm, but they don’t know each other like that. It’s only been a month and a half since they moved in. Still. “It always matters what you want,” he insists. “And I think you’re amazing.”

Anakin blushes bright scarlet and takes a huge gulp of wine, and Obi-Wan wonders if this is a throwing-yourself-off-the-fridge break through.)

(It’s not because the next day, Anakin doesn’t say a single word to him, which bothers him more than he’d like to admit.)

(“Am I in the wrong for wanting to get along with my housemate?” Obi-Wan asks Quinlan despairingly during their office hours that he should be using to grade papers. Instead all he can think about is Anakin Skywalker and the goddamn cold shoulder he’s been getting from the man for the past three days.

“Yeah,” Quin says absentmindedly, marking something with a red pen before looking up at Obi-Wan’s outraged intake of breath. “I mean, no. I mean, sorry, Obi, what are we even talking about now? Is it still your hot new roommate with the two kids? Because that’s what we were talking about an hour and a half ago.”

Obi-Wan crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “I’m just not sure I appreciate--”

“And you said he’s not been hanging around in the living room when you get home? But he’s still leaving you meals in the kitchen? And you’re upset about the free food?”

Obi-Wan is upset at the lack of Anakin’s presence, but he thinks that’s probably not the right thing to say here.

“Maybe he’s just tired?” Quinlan puts down his pen and rests his chin on one of his hands as he looks at Obi-Wan. “From the kids and the job and putting up with your moody ass. C’mon, Obi, what’s really getting you worked up?”

Obi-Wan purses his lips and stares at the desk in front of him, but he had come to Quinlan for help. He should at least be honest about what’s eating at him, even though he knows how silly it will sound when given a voice. “...Satine always waited up for me,” he mutters. “Until she didn’t.”

Quinlan’s quiet for a worryingly large amount of seconds, before he reaches out to pat Obi-Wan gently on the arm. “Oh, Obi,” he says pityingly. “Repeat after me. You cannot make your new roommate your rebound from your thirty year marriage.”

Obi-Wan scoffs. That’s not the problem at all. “That’s not the problem at all,” he says, not defensively in the slightest. “I think I’m just worried about the children not having enough structure in their lives.”

“Right,” Quinlan says, not quite managing to hide the skepticism in his voice. “Then you should talk to him. For the sake of the children.”

Obi-Wan will absolutely not be doing that, but it’s a nice thought.)

The real turning point in Anakin and Obi-Wan’s relationship happens five months after the Skywalkers move in.

Anakin and Obi-Wan are in the living room. Anakin is trying to braid Leia’s hair while Obi-Wan tries to pretend he isn’t watching. From the kitchen, there’s a very, very loud crash and the sound of something shattering.

Both adults leap up from their seats immediately and run to the other room.

Luke is standing in the epi-center of disaster, little face scrunched up like he doesn’t know whether or not to cry. At the sight of his dad and Obi-Wan, he starts to wail, moving forward and reaching for Anakin.

Obi-Wan, who is wearing shoes inside the house (a point of contention between himself and Anakin), grabs Luke roughly and picks him up by the armpits before he can cut his feet on the glass. He hands him over to Anakin to soothe, stepping further into the kitchen to find the dustpan he keeps in one of the pantries.

It’s very obvious what broke, though Obi-Wan can’t for the life of him understand how Luke got ahold of Satine’s heavy cake stand. He can definitely understand how Luke dropped it, as the thing was ridiculously heavy.

It had been one of the only things left in the house that had been Satine’s. She’d left it, and Obi-Wan had been too bitter or petty to point it out to her. Yes, it had been her mother’s. No, keeping it had not made him feel any better. But it’s not like Satine ever baked anything anyway.

Good for Luke, actually, for doing what Obi-Wan never could bring himself to do.

He grabs the broom and dustpan and marches back to the pieces of shattered glass. Anakin has placed Luke on the counter, ostensibly to check to make sure his feet are fine if the boy would ever let go of his father’s neck. Leia is peering around at the mess on the floor.

When Obi-Wan comes back and starts sweeping everything away, she darts forward to pick up a rather sizeable chunk.

“Don’t touch that,” Obi-Wan says sharply, much harsher than he intended. Leia drops it instantly and scurries back to her father, eyes wide and sort of watery. Oh, fuck.

“Hey,” Anakin snaps immediately. “She’s just trying to help and Luke didn’t mean to break--whatever that is.”

Obi-Wan holds up his hand to cut Anakin off. “I’m not mad,” he promises all three of the Skywalkers. And he’s not even lying. He’s really not mad, hasn’t even thought to be mad at this last piece of proof of his relationship with Satine shattering on his kitchen floor. “I just don’t want either of you to cut yourself. Glass like this can be very dangerous and none of you are wearing shoes.”

“Promise?” Luke asks, untucking his red face from Anakin’s neck so he can peer up at Obi-Wan.

“I’m sorry I was a bit rough,” Obi-Wan apologizes, coming over and bending down a bit so he’s on the same level as Luke. “I was just worried about you. Promise.”

Luke sniffles but lets go of Anakin to throw himself at Obi-Wan, apologizing all the way.

“Hush,” Obi-Wan says as Leia scrambles up his leg, vying for his attention. With his hands full of children that aren’t his, he raises his head to look at Anakin who’s watching them with a very strange expression on his face. He tilts his head toward the broom and then down to the kids in his arms. “Come along,” he tells them both. “Leia, I’ll finish your braids if you’d like.”

“Braid my hair too!” Luke demands with a pull on Obi-Wan’s shirt.

Luke’s hair is floppy but awfully short. “I’m sure we can figure something out,” Obi-Wan says generously, leaving the kitchen.

“I suppose I’ll just clean this up then?” Anakin calls sarcastically behind them.

“Thank you, darling,” Obi-Wan responds.

There’s the sound of something else breaking, but it’s not Obi-Wan’s problem at the moment.

(A year later, Anakin mentions something over morning coffee about looking for a new apartment, now that he’s got everything straightened out. “We’ll get out of your hair,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’ll look today since it’s my day off.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t want to examine why that idea makes something curl tightly in his stomach, making him feel vaguely nauseous, but it does. On his way out of the house, he unplugs the router, and then after a second of thought, takes it with him just in case.)

(Quinlan laughs his head off when Obi-Wan sheepishly puts the router down on the desk in front of him. “It’s a bad market right now,” Obi-Wan says defensively. “I’m just looking out for him.”

“Obi, I mean this in the best way possible, but there are at least four professors in the psych department that would probably love to do a case study on you.”)

(Two years after the Skywalkers move in, Obi-Wan is running late for a meeting with the head of his department. The man is stepping down, finally retiring, and Obi-Wan thinks that perhaps he’ll be tapped as the new head. It would mean dropping some of his classes, but it would be worth it.

“I made you a breakfast wrap,” Anakin greets him at the door, holding out a paper bag. “It’s got that salsa you like in it.”

The salsa Obi-Wan likes is the mild version of what Anakin and the kids eat, but Anakin treats it as if it’s from another planet entirely.

“Good luck!” he says with a sweet smile, also passing Obi-Wan a travel mug of what’s hopefully fully caffeinated tea. Obviously Obi-Wan needs it. He got perhaps two full hours of sleep last night, tossing and turning and thinking about this meeting and now he’s running late and his tie is crooked and none of his favorite sweater vests were clean.

“Thank you, dear one,” Obi-Wan mumbles, mind somewhere else. If traffic isn’t too bad, he could still be on time.

“Text me how it goes!” Anakin chirps, following Obi-Wan out the door to stand on the front porch with his arms crossed in an attempt to fight off the early winter chill.

“Yes, of course,” Obi-Wan replies, turning around to brush an absent-minded kiss to Anakin’s lips before hurrying to his car. It’s a twenty minute commute. If he gets his preferred parking spot and runs to the department building, he won’t be late at all.

Is that too much to hope for?

He starts the car and pulls out of the driveway, looking back in the rearview mirror to see Anakin standing frozen on the porch. That’s strange, usually the other man can’t stand being out in the cold.

Obi-Wan gets to the first stop-sign out of the neighborhood before he realizes what he’s done. It’s lucky that he’s already slowing down, because he slams on the brakes. Did he--

Did he kiss Anakin? Did he really kiss Anakin as if he does it all the time? As if they were in a relationship?

Oh shit.

Frantically, he pulls out his cellphone from his bag and checks to see if he has any new messages. He doesn’t.

Oh. Shit.

#asks #one more ficlet in this universe and i will have No Choice but to piece them together somehow on ao3 #there was supposed to be a bit where one of his students is like 'oh i didnt know you were a father!'#and obi-wan is like 'im not a father'#and then he plugs in his laptop to pull up the powerpoitn for the day #and his background is a picture of luke and leia #not even doing anything theyre just sleeping peacefully in his favorite armchair hugging the same book #anakin had sent it to him #with the text that they were taking turns playing Obi-Wan and Student #but the game was so boring they fell asleep #KUWSK

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kombatfire · 3 years

Text

What the Lin Kuei are like when sick Headcanons

content warning: sickness

note: Includes Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Frost and Tomas Vrbada . This is really self indulgent actually ( gifs aren’t mine)

Bi-Han

- Bi-Han doesn’t get sick often, but when he does, it’s a total disaster

- He’ll shrug off a runny nose or some sleepiness, but when he gets really sick, he goes into full panic mode. He won’t admit it, but feeling so weak scares him, he doesn’t want to look weak or feel that way.

- Instead of being upfront about it, he’ll tell his students that he “needs to do some private practice and meditation in his quarters. Don’t go find him....unless you have soup”

- Feeling weak is ok but being weak in front of the Lin Kuei?? Hard pass (they still know he’s sick though)

- He’s gonna get cabin fever in his room, and he needs entertainment or he’s gonna panic again, plus he doesn’t like being alone

- Honestly he has zero patience so he needs lots of things to do

- If his s/o is with him, he’ll ask them to sit with him, maybe he watch a show, play Jenga, or just give him attention

- He is a whiny patient though, so be warned

- Once he gets better he’ll be extra nice to everyone, just feeling really glad to be outside again, and if his s/o nursed him back to health? He’s gonna send them so so many little love notes and probably just make out the first chance he can.

- It’s really a whole ordeal so everyone prays he never gets sick again.

Kuai Liang

- Kuai is different from him big bro in a lot of ways so this is no exception. He’ll push through any sick feelings, determined to do his work...until the ice coughs start.

- You know how he coughs ice after a match? Well when he gets sick it’s even worse

- He’ll cough ice everywhere, he starts carrying a small trash can because soon he’s coughing up ice cubes. Poor guy.

- He’s upfront with his students once he gets real run down, he’ll tell them to keep up the good work, then he’ll go lay in bed

- Lucky for him, he doesn’t mind just laying still, and he kind of meditates this way or just lets his thoughts wander

- If his s/o is there, he’ll offer them to meditate with him, or ask them for help with Grandmaster duties, but otherwise he doesn’t want to impose

- If you rub his back and stroke his hair when he’s having a bad ice-cube-spitting fit, and speak softly to him, well he’ll nearly tear up at how kind you are, and file that away for later

- Once he’s better he’ll do all sorts of things for you to help you with your work or anything really, if you ask why he’ll say “Remember that time I was sick and coughing ice cubes and you took care of me? I’m paying you back.”

Frost

- Frost is a difficult one, she wants to be the best at recovering from the little cold (pun intended) that’s spreading through the temple and get better before anyone else does, but she’s also a really bad patient

- It’s not that she’s trying to be difficult, but she gets really cranky really fast, she feels achy and can’t get to sleep so she’s gonna be running on 3 hours of sleep and pure stubborn rage

- She gets runny noses easy when sick, so she’s gonna have crumpled up tissues everywhere, and she’s really fond of freezing said tissues and throwing them at the wall

- She’s also like a cat because if there’s anything on the nightstand she’s gonna whack it off because she’s bored or just because

- If her s/o is there though, she’ll be a slightly better patient, but she’s going to ask for you to watch cartoons with her. She identifies with Squidward so prepare for a 7 hour Spongebob marathon.

- When she starts getting dizzy and funny acting from lack of sleep, please get her a smoothie and make her lie down or else she’s going to start attacking people because she thinks it must be time for training

- Once she’s better she’s going to give you a small robotic squirrel . Don’t ask me why, she doesn’t really know either. She just happened to be making tiny robots and happened to remember the squirrel in her favorite cartoon show, and you happened to be there. It’s not because she adores you. Not at all. Except it is

Tomas Vrbada

- Tomas is a generally well behaved guy, and he usually doesn’t have much to complain or worry about, so once the sneezes and shakes start he’s going to be a little worried

- There are two big issues he’ll have from being sick: One, he sneezes out smoke sometimes like a dragon, and two, he gets super duper sleepy when he’s sick, like keeping him from doing stuff because he’ll fall asleep

- Along with getting really sleepy and taking naps every other hour, he gets really hungry, so he’s gonna try to sneak to the kitchen and make a snack, but he’ll probably end up napping there

- If his s/o is there, he’s gonna be a bit bashful but honest with what he needs; he wants a warm bath run, some mashed potatoes, and he’d like if you read him a story at night so he can listen to you

- He also thrives off cuddles, but doesn’t want to get you sick so he tries to go without

- Once he’s feeling better, he’s gonna hug all his friends and enjoy all his renewed energy

- After that he’ll try to make you some dinner and buy you whatever you would like as a gift, all while telling you how special you are to him.

- Tomas is already super loving but after this? He’s going to do literally anything for you

#mortal kombat #bi han #kuai liang #sub zero #Frost #smoke #tomas vrbada #lin kuei #mk #mortal kombat x reader #headcanons

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