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sc0tters · 7 months

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Miscommunication Efforts | Nico Hischier

summary: when Nico finally realises how much his family mean to him.

request: yes/no

warnings: none.

word count: 1.31k

authors note: I was in a soft mood tonight and picked a prompt that let me write for a player of my choice (so let’s thank Luna for this one). Dad Nico is not a phase, it is a way of life.

pt 2

You could feel Nico slipping away.

Days felt longer as the time you spent with him decreased. The captain spent every waking moment that he could at the rink. A habit he had each time he came back from an injury and usually you were willing to stand by and let him go through this.

But this time you couldn’t, not when Rosie was around. She was your little seven month old baby girl who was the absolute light of your life.

Now Nico was a great father, you loved how he was with Rosie. But these last few days it felt like he didn’t care about either of you as he’d leave before you woke up and he’d only come back when you were too tired to keep your eyes open.

Jack had been over twice since it all started as he wanted to make sure that you were both okay. The Hughes boy could tell that his captain had something on his mind beyond just the game and family.

You decided to spend the day in New York with some of your friends as the girls hadn’t seen you or Rosie in weeks. Of course you sent Nico a message telling him that you two weren’t going to be at home for most of the day but what you didn’t expect was that when you eventually did come home Nico would be pacing around the apartment in a panic.

He walked up and down with his phone in his hand as he rambled to his mother about something in German. When he locked eyes with you it seemed that relief ran through his veins “she’s home.” Nico blurted out before he quickly hung up.

Rosie giggled as you bounced her on your hip “where the hell were you both?” Nico groaned as he practically pulled her from your arms.

You furrowed your eyebrows “I literally told you we were out-” you tried to remind him of it but he clearly didn’t seem interested in hearing your words “you took our daughter to New York for the day and didn’t even ask me if I was okay with that!” The hockey players loud voice caused Rosie’s lip to quiver.

It made you glare at your boyfriend “look it is sort of hard to treat you like her father when she hasn’t seen you in a week.” Your voice was soft as you tried to get Rosie to calm down “I’ve been busy with the team.” Nico tried to defend himself hit you weren’t having any of it “the same team that has been over to see your daughter?” You crossed your arms only opening them when Rosie reached out for you to take her again.

The silence began to overwhelm you as Nico looked like a child who had been caught in the act “I’m going to go give her a bath.” You announced letting out a sigh as you walked in the direction of the bedrooms before Nico could say anything.

Rosie seemed totally unaware of your defeated state as she focused on her rubber ducky “da!” She giggled looking up at the door. You turned your head to see Nico watching you both “want to sit?” You asked shifting up slightly as you made space for him.

Nico nodded as he joined you on the floor smiling as Rosie stared at him with her hair full of shampoo “mein kleiner Kürbis.” The hockey player cooed reaching out to tap her nose.

She looked at her father was the only man in the world as she made a small noise in response as her nose scrunched “why don’t you go relax schatzi?” Nico asked turning his attention to you.

The look on his face was guilty as though he realised how little he had seen of you both “I think mommy deserves time without us.” The grin Rosie sent him was one you’d remember forever as it warmed your heart “mommy is going to go have a bath of her own.” You explained bringing your hands into the water to wash away the soap that was on them “I’ll see you in there.” You pressed a kiss onto Nico’s head as you got up leaving them alone as all you heard was the sound of Nico telling her some story in German.

In the bathroom of your bedroom the chaos of the smaller bathroom had not seeped into yours. You lay in the bubbles almost falling asleep as the smell of lavender and rose soothed your mind.

“Schatzi?”

The knock at the door pulled your attention away from the oasis of peace that you had formed “come in,” you called out turning your head to the door.

Nico’s head appeared as he locked eyes with you “I just put her to sleep.” He explained sitting down in a similar position to what he was in when he bathed Rosie.

You nodded “I’ve been shitty to you both.” Nico blurted out making you smile “that’s one way to put it.” You giggled as the boy brought his hand into the water to splash you.

It made his heart warm “we have to win the game and Rosie started calling Jack dad before me an-” you raised your hand to stop him “she called Jack dad?” You furrowed your eyebrows almost wanting to be amused by this.

The hockey player nodded “she called him da,” it made his cheeks turn red as he was embarrassed by the fact that his teammate got called dad before he did.

But it made him feel worse when you laughed “hand me my phone,” you pointed to the device on the table. You were quick to unlock it clicking on a video.

The soft sounds of ABBA played through your speakers as you bounced Rosie on your lap letting both of you move along to the music “you like ABBA baby?” You smiled as she nodded “da da,” Rosie wrapped her hands around your fingers as she frowned hearing the music change to something that Nico had picked.

You laughed seeing her expression change “less daddy music more ABBA?” You asked as she nodded making you skip the song.

Nico watched the clip twice over before he looked back up at you “well now that makes me feel like a real idiot.” He confessed pushing his lips into a fine line “yeah.” You nodded placing your phone back on the table as you looked at him.

He reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear “I don’t know why you put up with so much from me.” The hockey player sighed frowning as you looked at him with so much love “because I love you.” It was clear that you did “Rosie does, Boo will.” The second mention confused the boy.

You smiled as you scrunched your nose “surprise?” You shrugged as he quickly point the pieces together “we’re having another?” Nico gasped letting his jaw drop “Rosie picked the name and we were gonna tell you-” your ramble was cut off as Nico kissed you.

It was soft and full of love “I’m so sorry you couldn’t tell me earlier.” Your hand held his “you’re here now.” You squeezed his fingers as you looked at him.

The moment was one you two were bound to remember “baby I need you out of there so I can hug you.” Nico’s words made you laugh “last time I checked this bath was big enough for the two of us.” You shot back watching as he pulled his shirt off of his back.

All you wanted this entire week was the contact that your boyfriend gave you. Rosie needed her father but so did you. Pregnant or not, you missed your boyfriend and we’re glad to have him back.

“I’m here baby, just how you want me.”

#nico hischier imagine #nico hischier oneshot #nico hischier x y/n #nhl oneshots #hockey imagine #oneshots #imagines #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #amber writes fics

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fictoculus · 18 days

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☆ itto drabble.

THINKING ABOUT... going through baby photos with itto.

"LOOK AT YOUR LITTLE BOOTS!!!! YOUR BOOTS!!!"

your boyfriend, itto, is practically screaming, with his face mere inches away from the aged, creased photo of you as a toddler. he just can't help himself. he is completely entranced by you; your smile, your outfit, your height, everything, little you was just so cute! (of course, he still thinks you're beyond adorable now... but your boots!!!)

"i get it, i get it, the boots are cute-"

"BUT THEY'RE SOOOOOOOOO CUTE [NAME]"

nothing can get through to him; not grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him, nor ruffling his hair or even poking his horns. just wait until he sees your little ducky sweater...

"AWWWWW YOUR SWEATER!!! YOU'RE SUCH A CUTIE"

he points a finger at the yellow pullover, which was a couple sizes too big, hanging off your shoulders and stopping a little past your knees. he really is a child at heart, but you have to admit, it's something you really love about him.

you'll have to wrestle the photobook off of him if you want even a chance at getting your boyfriend back, no matter how much he whines and pouts afterwards.

if anyone is a cutie, it's him...

send a request!┊more drabbles┊taglist applications

#—☆ fictoculus drabbles #genshin x reader #itto x reader #itto hcs #itto drabble #itto x you #gn reader #arataki itto x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin drabbles

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selineram3421 · 5 months

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*brain asking for even MORE fluff* Fine.

Alastor X Reader Oneshot

Warnings? ⚠

⚠ hinted love language-acts of service and physical affection, coffee, food mention-coffee desserts, kisses, implied make out ⚠

Coffee ☕

The smell of coffee is one you're all too familiar with.

Alastor is a coffee addict lover, and drinks it every morning. Sometimes he'll have a cup or two after dinner.

You don't have any problems with it, having been surrounded by others in your living life with the same love for coffee.

So you'll buy coffee beans often just for him to enjoy. With the extra, you'll use it in your baking, making sure not to make his treats beyond his sweetness intake.

Tiramisu, crispy coffee cookies, mocha truffle cheesecake, and coffee 'n cream brownies. Alastor helps you with taste testing and thoroughly enjoys your coffee treats. Often kissing you between bites.

"The baker must taste test too~"

You don't mind having the taste off coffee on your lips. It may be a bit bitter but its something you've grown accustomed to with him.

One night you were craving for some coffee.

Alastor was sitting near the lit fireplace with a book in hand, coffee and coffee crisp cookies on the small table nearby.

You had just finished making more of his cookies to take to the hotel so he could enjoy during work when you felt in the mood for some caffeine. Looking over at the man in red, you saw he took a sip of his drink.

"Love.", you called out, walking over to stand before him. "Can I get some coffee?"

Looking up from his book, he gave a happy smile and set the hardcover down on the little table. "Why of course my darling! I'll get you a cup, have a seat-", he went to stand, pushing himself up with the armrests.

"No.", you placed a hand on his chest.

The deer demon was confused but let you push him back into his seat.

"I don't want a cup.", you said as you went to straddle his lap. "I want my coffee.", you cupped his chin and lifted his head up to meet your gaze.

Now Alastor was a man hard to fluster, but somehow you manage to make his cheeks redden.

"And where is your coffee?", he asked after taking a noticeable gulp.

You smiled and leaned in closer.

"Why, it's you hun.", you slid the hand on his chest up until you held his face with both of your hands. "Can I get some coffee?"

Moving his hands off the armrests, he held you close and nodded.

"Yes."

Starting off with a gentle kiss, you lean more onto him until you're chest to chest as you wrap your arms around his neck, getting a taste of the coffee not long after a few more kisses.

"Je serai ton café.", he said breathlessly against your lips. (I'll gladly be your coffee.)

Maybe you were a coffee addict now.

I had coffee. Also let me know if my translation is wrong.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@willowaudreykeyes @kiraisastay @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @scary-noodlesblog @naelys-the-aster @ducky-died-inside @biromanticboba @roo-bi @pooplyface1423 @lbcreations-blog @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

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feyofmay · 8 months

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The Oak Door

Laurie x March!Reader (aka "Ducky") Summary: At a gathering in london, hosted by Mister Laurence, Laurie gets drunk & the reader is forced to take care of him. While assisting him, Laurie attempts to propose, & the reader is everything but happy word count: 3.8k Warnings: ANGST, literally that's it just angst, also a lot of self doubt from reader

This story is a snippet from my longer Laurie x reader story, Foolish, Honest Love on ao3. If you want to know what happens next, you'll find out there ;P

Also, I am taking requests for Laurie x reader drabbles/minifics in my asks!!! :)

STORY STARTS UNDER THE PAGE BREAK

To say one’s heart & mind works separately is a lie because the heart is an organ that does not think, nor does it hold any greater understanding of what it is. It has no consciousness, yet is unrightfully given the capability to think & know. Nobody truly thinks with their heart or their throat or their liver or their pancreas. When someone says “thinking with their heart” or “thinking with their mind”, they mean thinking with their intuition or their rationality, or thinking with logic or emotion. They create a great divide in thought that, in all honesty, has & will never exist. A black & white. A right & wrong. A sky & sea. Existing between all of these concepts is a great trench, a lack of understanding, that was dug by the hands of men.

In thinking with her heart, the middle March finds it best to avoid Laurie, &, in thinking with her head, she agrees with her heart. All of this to say, for the past couple of days, she’s both missed & feared the sight of his face. It’s easy to grow distant from someone when there’s no possible way to close said distance, but, when you’re staying in the same residence per the request of his grandfather, it’s much harder to remain distant, both in a literal & metaphysical sense.

Within the lounge, where she resides now, Miss March distances herself from the greater commotion of the gathering, in the dining hall, without being fully disconnected, like a hand is to the torso. The walls are dressed in a tender maroon wallpaper with an eloquent & detailed moulding of marble & gold, replicating greek columns, which act as a trim that runs across the ceilings. She shares the chaise lounge with other guests as they squeeze next to each other, and their skirts overlap like incoming tides crossing over one another. She’s unsure if she's become overwhelmed by all the stimulus or simply unable to sense anything. The air doesn’t carry any distinct scent. Oddly, the space around her smells of the sound of bustling people & drinks swishing in crystalline glasses. Around her is noise & people, & all of her senses confirm that truth in a monotone wave. Nursing an empty glass, which she had thrown the contents of into a houseplant & plans to hold for the rest of the evening, she sits within conversation between several men & women, an intellectual hive of people that act more like displays for their attire then beings with bones & blood. For them, knowledge is a sport. It’s a trinket to place on your coffee table to try & impress your inlaws. It’s an accessory to tout & best acknowledge in thoughtful hums & inquisitive gasps.

A man in a matching set of birdseye patterned, taupe slacks & waist drones on about the recent unification of Germany. While Miss March does find the subject, itself, interesting, she can’t seem to hold intrigue in the conversation. Something about the smoke & the long days warping together in England has led her to misplace the inquisitiveness of the young girl who dreamed of moving to Europe & leaving behind the dreariness of subordinate domesticity. While, with age, she’s gained the emotional intellect necessary to process her emotions beyond simply scraping the shallow tide with her toes, she’s also gained the awareness that, oftentimes, the act of digesting her emotions is tiring. She’s learned that the energy used toward emotions is better spent producing something tangible & of worth.

Luckily for her, Laurie’s grandfather is a man in the know, which means he knew several associates with daughters of varying ages with varying tastes in clothes who were more than happy to lend a dress to a young lady. Over her crinoline skirt & bodice, a dress in a sweet champagne shade is draped across her. The lacy trim, not wanting to melt into the dress, itself, is a muted purple, almost a grey, that wraps around her puff sleeves & the edges of the champagne tier, with a silk white skirt with a lavender sheen peeks out from underneath. Nothing about the dress is loud. She feels much more at home in the fabric, especially after walking around in the daunting mauve dress like a living, breathing cake topper, a piece of decor for her employer to flaunt. For the first time since leaving New England & Meg & Hannah’s trusted fingers, she’d had her hair done by someone other than her family’s servant. The trusted maid of Mister Laurence had offered & promised to not pull too hard on the March’s hair. As the maid braided & pinned her hair, the middle March almost cried. However, it wasn’t due to any pain inflicted on her scalp, as the maid’s touch was tentative & gentle. It was the simple act of being touched & cared for, a touch Miss March had been subconsciously craving for since leaving her home. A touch she had forgotten until reuniting with Laurie in the crowded foyer.

Touching her shoulder, a soft hand brushes her & whispers a polite ask for her attention. She flutters her eyelashes, shaking off the weight of the dust that had collected on them, &, with the help of the welcomed touch, swims out of the mental fog she had sunk herself into. Her eyes flitter up & meet with the warm sight of Mister Laurence gazing back at her. Whether the strong scent of candle wax, lingering dust on velvet carpets, & forest breeze eminates from him or the memories of his manor in New England that she spent odd mornings & afternoons in, she’s unsure of. However, it’s another reminder of the young girl she tried to comfort & wish goodbye to before leaving for Lancashire.

“Pardon my forwardness, but, Miss March, I must ask you to join me for a brief moment. I do hate to take away from such wonderful company,” Mister Laurence requests, playing the role of the man wise beyond his years more gracefully than anyone Miss March has ever seen. With a curt nod, not even bothering to bid adieu to the people in the room, she lets curiosity lead her as she rises to her feet & wraps her arms around Mister Laurence’s. Ushering her out of the room at the exact speed that is swift without being suspicious, Mister Laurence guides the young lady to a hallway with no prying eyes or wandering ears. His gaze does not hold the anger of a great man who is weighed down by the hubris of those around him, but in his eyes is something deeply paternal & saddened. Around him, an umber waistcoat & slacks with a herringbone pattern remind her more of a bear then a man of business & wealth. However, her judgement may be heavily clouded from growing up under his watchful eye. While his hair used to be a soft salt & pepper, it has faded to a faint white & grey like the shadow of a tree painted on fresh snow during a cloudy evening. For most, with age comes wrinkles that hide within them their growing envy for the youth that’s being wasted on careless & stupid adolescents. Mister Laurence’s wrinkles are like the rings of a tree, lines that prove that he has lived & seen. They’re a promise that, if one is to ask, he will tell the story preserved in every smile line & crow’s foot. Bending down so his lips hover around her ear, she’s immediately washed in the same sincerity that soaks his demeanour.

“Y/N,” he calls her by her first name, a telltale sign of loyalty & unease from the man, “I do hate to put this upon your shoulders, but my grandson is acting aloof-”.

“In what sense?” she interrupts in the classic March fashion, &, used to this speech pattern, he continues speaking over her.

“And, while I don’t wish to make you pay for his poor decisions, I have an important associate that I do need to impress,” he explains to her as his hand returns to her shoulder, “And you and I are both well aware that no servant is paid well enough to have to deal with my grandson’s… ”

“Stubbornness?”

“...Tenacity.”

Both finish his sentence at the same time & share a gaze that communicates that neither are completely wrong with their wording. Nodding his head to agree with her, he looks away at the hall ahead. No paternal figure wants to admit their children’s faults. To say a truth is to make it known, but to admit a truth makes it tangible. She can feel the glass ball that rolls up & down his throat, ever so often bobbing at the opening to his stomach. Hiding beneath his heavy wool morning coat, his shoulders tense while trying to protect the rest of his body.

“A servant caught him with several other young women & clearly inebriated,” he reveals to her, & the edges of his lips quiver & twitch as they are tugged by invisible strings into a frown. His words dig a hole into her chest. All that remains is her skin, which caves in & sags where her sternum once was. It leaves a tingling sensation where her muscles & bones used to rest. She feels that Mister Laurence is speaking of a different grandson, which she has never met. What happened to the young boy who would treat her childish fears with utmost sincerity? What happened to the boy who made pinky promises seem like the most honourable pacts a man could make? What monster, what man had stolen the skin from him & now wears it as a costume?

“I’ll confess. I’m unsure of where I went wrong with him,” Mister Laurence slips out between hushed lips, telling his secret to the wind & Miss March. Pausing to swallow his words, she furrows her brows & purses her lips. Swimming in her mind, she can’t think of any words that can comfort him in this moment of vulnerability. So, rather than speaking, she wraps her arms around the older man & hugs him tightly. Surprise washes him over as she squeezes his ribcage tightly, &, for a moment, he freezes as his eyes dart around to try & catch leering gazes peaking around the corner. But they are hidden in the inky shadows of the hallway. With a long exhale, Mister Laurence allows his tension to escape, & he swallows her in his embrace..

“You worry about business, and I’ll worry about Laurie,” she comforts him while pulling away, pausing to fix his bowtie, “He’s very lucky to have a grandfather that’s as kind and loving as you.” Mister Laurence smiles at her reminder as the rosy glow on his cheeks alights the hallway for a moment. Each breath they take in the space that they share feels like it fills each corner of their lungs. Nodding to her, a silent show of gratitude, he leads her to an oak door which lays slightly ajar. Holding the nob, he turns back to her before speaking.

“Thank you for your assistance. He’s in here,” Mister Laurence informs her, & he slowly swings the door open. Immediately, the souring scent of wine hits her face, &, as an instinct, her nose scrunches up & a grimace stains her lips. Splayed out on a couch, dishevelled & basking in his own ruin, she sees more of a strange, unfamiliar man than the boy that she knew. She sees a man that will grow to be discontent with his wife, yet who stays for the kids. A man who never really loved his children but is patiently waiting for the fulfilment that comes from acting in the role that society has told him to. A man who will never be fulfilled. A man that has learned that he must settle for what he has, quietly & miserably. A miniscule part of Miss March relishes at the idea that he’d have to learn how cruel the impartial hand of life can be, but the rest of her is well aware that Laurie will never know “enough”. He’d love his wife, even if she loved another man. He’d work to provide for his kids, &, if the wife was never around, he’d raise them all on his own. He’d move mountains to try to find the better side of “enough”. Laurie will love & love because that is Laurie’s nature. He loves wine & women. He loves trekking through forests & acting a fool, even in public spaces. He loves to engage in conversation while in the company of the March sisters, where no sentence is ever finished & nothing is ever truly said but the quiet “I love you” that rattles around in the pauses between words for a quick draw of breath. Laurie loves Jo. Laurie will continue to love, & love will truly be the cause of his death. Yet, Laurie will find a way to love the silent & cold hand of what lies beyond in a way that no person has ever done before. Miss March cannot even entertain the idea of Laurie living a life that is just “enough” because, to her, his company is more than enough. It is good. It is plenty.

That same man has tossed away his vermillion silk tie & waistcoat, leaving him in a starch white shirt that’s a third of the way unbuttoned & hastily tucked into raven black slacks. Closing the door behind her, the click of the door knob alerts him to her presence. However, his verdant eyes don’t move to meet her as he stares through strands of his messy chocolate hair & up at the silver ring that he often displays on his pointer finger.

“Are you here to scold me, oh my dear mother?” He asks to the wind, acknowledging her existence. Miss March inhales deeply as the beating of her heart starts to drown out the sound of her breath. Clasping her hands together, she tentatively begins to make her way over to the cobalt ottoman that rests near the matching couch. The room is a demure periwinkle with small etchings of leaves adding a splash of muted emerald to the room.

“No, Laurie. Your grandfather asked me to keep you company,” she tries to ease his nerves as she inches closer.

“No, he told you to keep me away from the guests as I am his greatest failure,” Laurie shoots up at her words, sitting up far too fast for his drunken mind to handle. A warbling groan of pain slips out of his mouth as he rakes his fingers through his hair & clutches his throbbing head. At the sight of his agony, Miss March rushes to him &, readjusting his legs, sits on the edge of the couch cushion, right in front of him. With a tender touch, she gently wraps her fingers around his wrists & rubs small circles with her thumb.

“Oh, shush, you’re as much of a failure as I am a dancer,” She teases him with a sympathetic smile. At her words, a small & raspy chuckle escapes his lips &, tilting his head, his celadon eyes, in which the fields of Elysium hide, gaze up at her. Hiding beneath a smoke of anger, she’s able to see the young boy that she grew up with. The young boy that she once fell in love with. He’s scared & small & all the things a child is never allowed to be.

In this moment, as much as she despises it, she knows she must admit her faults to him & ask for forgiveness. She was cruel & unjust for bringing up Jo with the intent of spitting in his face. She hurt him with the intention of leaving a mark, & she succeeded in doing so. If he doesn’t ever forgive her, she’ll grow to understand. It won’t be an easy process, but loving Laurie has never been anything close to easy. Taking a deep breath, she shoves the racing thoughts out of her vision & looks him in the eyes.

“I apologise for what I said in the alley, concerning your feelings for Jo. I shouldn’t’ve ever used them to hurt you,” she apologises quickly, &, after speaking, immediately purses her lips together & stares at him. She waits for him to scream. To yell at her to get out. To say he hates her & never wants to see her again. To tell her he always hated her. That he only tolerated her for Jo. To say she’s stupid. She’s vile. She’s not worth Jo or Meg or Beth or Amy’s time. She waits for him to tell her the truth she’s been too scared to say to herself aloud. She waits & waits until, finally, his lips part, & he draws a quick breath.

“It’s alright. I was being mean too, and I, truly, do owe you many apologies, as well, ” he replies with a thin smile, replaying the events in his head. Ducky’s stomach squeezes as relief floods her system, & she sharply inhales while attempting to keep some kind of composure. A tight smile graces her features, slipping past her facade of propriety & decorum.

“I’ve been spending this past year, & some odd months, wallowing in my own melancholy, but,” Laurie pauses for a moment, slouching forward so his eyes are level with Ducky’s, “but I cannot waste away my life being miserable. If money is truly of the highest concern, then marry me.” His words grab her by the neck, shove their long, spindly fingers down her throat, wrench the breath from her lungs, & pry the air out of her. Her mouth falls agape as she struggles to comb through & fully understand what he’s said.

“Laurie, I refuse-”

“You won’t have to work, nor do you have to love me, & your family will be provided for: Beth, Amy, Marmee, everyone,” he prattles on, afraid of the nearing rejection that comes when he stops to breathe. Ducky can’t hear anything other than her own heartbeat & what, to her, sounds like the faint whisper of Laurie’s voice. She can’t even hear herself think.

“You’ll be happy, I promise. Everyday I will spend in honest devotion to your happiness,” he’s breathless as he finishes his speech, &, feeling the walls begin to collapse in on her, Ducky jumps to her feet. Rushing back & forth, in front of her very eyes, are countless memories of Jo & Laurie, of the way it’s always been. Jo loves her work. Laurie loves Jo. Ducky was left to love the footprints Laurie had left while chasing after Jo.

“Laurie, I, as a woman, must either enter a marriage for security or for love,” she whispers out as her arms wrap around her waist, squeezing her sides tightly, “while you can marry for any reason under the sun, and I will not be an accomplice in allowing you to waste that privilege.” The room grows smaller, the air between them thinner. It’s hard to breathe & her vision becomes a swirl of blues & greens with a spotty pillar of white & black wiggling around in the centre. Laurie stops, & Ducky stops. Neither move. Neither speak. Neither breathe. The walls stop moving, & everything around them fades into their shadows. They are a boy & a girl. A lady & a man, all grown up & yet the exact same as they were the day that they met. While his previous proclamations were loud & steady, the words he speaks next are a promise meant only for his lips & the spirits that hide in peoples’ breaths.

“But I can give you both, love and security, if you’d allow me. I’ll inherit my grandfather’s wealth, and we could be happy, all of us.”

Clear on his face is the same sincerity that he’s gifted to her in every moment of embarrassment & shame. His eyes stay glued to hers. After waiting for years for him to say these words to her, she can’t help but feel his admittance is fake. That maybe his words are meant for someone smarter, braver, older, & better then she is. His words are meant for Jo.

“No, no, you don’t get to, this isn’t right,” she bites back, walking backwards & grasping for the door knob yet only finding the air between her fingers, “Stop it, Laurie, please.”. He follows her, &, in his drunken state, collides with the furniture, sending his body awry.

“Yes, yes I can, and we both know it to be true,” he tries to correct her as he raises his hands to grip her forearms. Her shoulders immediately tense at his touch. His fingers crinkle the poofy champagne fabric that delicately floats around her skin.

“You’re acting a fool, Laurie-”

“I can, I swear on my life Y/N, I am able and I am willing and, and content to do so.”

“-I won’t allow it, I simply cannot,” she continues to ramble on, & her finger tips brush against the cool metal of the doorknob. Laurie opens his mouth to rebuke her statement, but, before he can, her palm flies up & presses against his lips. Covering his mouth with her hand, she shakes her head as her eyes gleam with tears.

“Please, stop. It hurts, Laurie. Please, Laurie, you’re hurting me,” she pleads to him as her fingers curl around the door knob, “I cannot do it. You broke my heart once already. Is that not enough for you?”

To watch the boy she admires fall in love with her sister, who she’s loved since the dawn of time, was a constant, real ache that left her sobbing into Beth’s chest as she begged Meg to help her & relieve her of the pain, which was an impossible task. After the middle March had left for Europe & caught word of Jo’s rejection in a letter from Beth, she had a heavy heart knowing that the two people who were connected at the hip for all of her adolescence had now grown cold & distant. It was as if she’d heard that the moon no longer followed the sun, leaving the night cold & bleak. All she has done her entire life is labour & hurt for those she loves without question or complaint. However, she cannot look Laurie in the eyes as he slurs out ideas that would’ve sent her younger self spinning & giggling with a maddening joy. She cannot withstand that pain for him. She doesn’t feel happy or sad. Nor is she angry or scared. All that she can feel is the heavy pounding of her heart & a dull ache emanating through her. The pain swallows her mind, &, while her body still remains, Ducky has clearly fled far from the room. She’s racing down the streets in her dress, seeing how far her legs will take her.

She yanks the door open just before he can reply & heaves her body through, slamming the door shut after her. Leaning her weight against the slab of carved & varnished oak, a few tears trickle down her cheek as she chokes back a sob, not wanting to alert any guests nearby. In her mind, she’s already ran all the way back to New England. There, back in her home, she lies, hiding her tears in Beth’s dress, as her sisters practically cocoon her, protecting her & the fire from the harsh reality of the world that waits outside their loving embrace & on the other side of the oak door.

i told you it's literally & only just angst... sorry. please like & repost :)

#timothée chalamet #theodore laurence x reader #laurie x reader #little women 2019 #laurie laurence #laurie laurence x reader #louisa may alcott #little women #timothee chalamet fanfiction #little women fanfiction #laurie laurence fanfiction

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hoomandoescosplay · 2 months

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Eternally Yours | Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Oneshot

The Garden of Eden is truly a paradise. All the plants and flowers are vivid and beautiful, and have a sweet fragrance.

As I sit on the grass I take a deep breath of the pure air before focusing my attention on the wildlife around.

It feels as though everything is in harmony with me. And Adam of course. I glance over at him walking around observing all the nature as well.

He has walked quite far away so it’s hard for me to fully see him.

My eyes dart to my side as I see some sort of creature with a yellow beak nudge into my thigh.

Its beak feels soft to the touch when it nudges against me. Its head tilted to one side, chirping with curiosity as it looked up at me.

“And what kind of creature might you be?” I ask out loud. It tilted its head again and chirped once more.

Whatever reply it was giving me was gibberish to my ears but it certainly was an adorable little creature.

I pick it up and pat it on the head gently as we both just continue to stare at one another.

After a few moments I jump at a sudden voice coming from behind me.

As I jumped with surprise at the voice, I instinctively tightened my grip on the creature.

“I call them ducks.” The voice says, causing me to turn around.

The creature squirmed slightly but didn’t cry out in pain or discomfort. Suddenly the voice spoke again.

“Oh my, I see I have arrived during a very adorable moment.” As I make eye contact with him I immediately recognize the man. It’s Lucifer.

I glance towards Adam’s figure before looking back at Lucifer. “I don’t think you should be here. Adam won’t be happy.” I say slightly louder than a whisper.

He gives me the most innocent look he can pull off before saying, “What, me being here is surely not a problem. I have just come for a friendly visit.”

The expression on his face says that he knows that’s complete bullshit, even though his tone was polite and sincere.

“He told me I shouldn’t talk to you.” I admit. Adam never explained why he didn’t like Lucifer or why I shouldn’t talk to him.

I’ve never questioned him or what he’s told me. All I know is that I was created for Adam and I should do everything in my power to be his equal and keep him happy.

Lucifer’s lips curl up in a mocking grin at those words. “Did he now? But I see nothing wrong with just a friendly chat to pass the time.” And he chuckles again as he takes a seat next to me.

I hum out as I think. “I suppose you’re right. A friendly conversation never hurts anybody.” As I finish saying this I give him a small smile.

His grin only grows as I hum out my agreement. “So.. What’s your name? I don’t think Adam ever mentioned it.”

“My name’s (Y/N).” I pet the duck some more as I respond.

He chuckles a little bit as he sees me petting the duck. “Aww, my little duckie seems to be enjoying your attention.”

He leans over a little to give the duck a little pet as well. “I’m Lucifer, Lucifer Morningstar.”

“Well it’s nice to officially meet you.” The duck chirps at all the attention it’s receiving.

“Same here! So, how much of paradise have you explored already? Has Adam shown you everything?”

I glance away, focusing on the duck. “He actually doesn’t like me leaving this area. He says it’s safer for me that way.”

Lucifer looks a little shocked at that. “He doesn’t let you go anywhere beyond this? This place is big though, but I can’t imagine staying just here and not seeing the whole of paradise!”

I sigh as I look at him when I speak this time. “I’m curious what the rest of the garden looks like. It must be absolutely gorgeous. But I was told to listen and trust Adam.”

“You’re missing out on the rest of this wonderful place! If I remember correctly, there’s even a pond and a beautiful waterfall in the middle of it. How’s that for gorgeous?”

My eyes sparkle as I hear Lucifer talk about the other parts of the garden. “Really?”

“Oh absolutely, and it’s definitely worth seeing!” Lucifer looks at me, matching my excitement.

“And.. I might know a way we can get there and look at it without getting Adam angry. A little sneak out, if you will.” He adds.

“Oh I would love to see it.” I then glance back at Adam and see he’s starting to make his way back over to where we are.

I frown slightly. “I guess we can’t go today though.”

Lucifer follows my line of sight and also sees Adam coming back. He raises an eyebrow as he watches Adam come closer.

“What a shame. Now it seems we won’t be able to go today. But, hey…”

Lucifer smiles widely as he leans in. “I said we won’t be able to go today... But, that doesn’t mean we can’t go any other day. Maybe tonight, when it’s dark and Adam’s asleep, we can sneak out and explore together?”

I juggle the thought in my mind for a while and glance back sadly at him. “I don’t know. That would be more than just a friendly conversation.”

Lucifer smiles at me even as I declined his offer to sneak out tonight. “I know it would be more than friendly, but I understand.”

I pause to glance at Adam again before directing my attention back to Lucifer. “How about this? Give me a day or two to think about it. When you come back I’ll have an answer for you.”

He nods as he hears my counter-offer. “A day or two, eh..? Alright, you have yourself a deal. I’ll come back tomorrow at this exact same spot to see what you’ve decided.”

We share a small smile before he turns himself into a snake and slithers off to be undetected by Adam.

As Adam comes back, he takes note of the duck in my arms. He frowned at the little creature.

“(Y/N).” His voice was very serious and firm, but I could also tell there was hurt hidden in it as he said my name. It was almost as if he was disappointed.

“Yes Adam?” I ask confused. “Is something wrong?”

“Where did you get the duck from?” His face was still stern and serious, but he had moved on from looking hurt to looking like he’s angry.

It’s clear he’s upset at me for having the animal, but why? I don’t understand what’s so wrong about this wonderful creature.

“It just wandered my way.” I hold it up for him to look at a bit closer. “Isn’t it cute?”

Adam takes a closer look at the duck. He squints at it and seems to size it up. It takes him a few seconds before he speaks again.

“Get rid of it. Actually no, I’ll get rid of it. Give it to me (Y/N).” He says as my eyes widen. “Oh, I- can I not keep it?” I ask meekly.

Adam seemed to be getting increasingly irritated by my attachment to the duck. He frowned more as I asked for permission to keep it.

“No.” He says firmly. He holds out his hand to her, waiting for me to hand him the duck.

I hand the duck over hesitantly. As Adam grabs the duck it chirps confused and I can feel my eyes start to well up.

He walks over to a bush farther away from where I stay and places it down. The duck refuses to move and just stares at me.

After a slightly forceful shove the duck eventually walks further into the garden.

As the duck walked away into the distance, Adam stayed right there and stared at where it went. His eyes were narrowed in a glare. He was definitely irritated, maybe even angry.

He didn’t move until he was certain the duck was far away enough. At which point he turned and started walking back to me, his expression still firm and upset.

─── ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ───

My head was spinning with worry and doubt, questioning whether or not he was even going to show up at all.

He said he’d be back in two days and now it is the fourth day.

Everyday I made sure to sit in the exact spot as last time, keeping my eyes on the direction Lucifer slither away.

As I sat there, alone and waiting on Lucifer, I noticed that the garden was just not the same anymore.

Adam had gone exploring, as was his habit. But without the little duck, I began to feel lonely.

It was a strange feeling, especially since I had gotten used to staying here all day, everyday, by this point. But just now it felt wrong.

I couldn’t help but think that my mind was going a bit crazy waiting for Lucifer.

I had been waiting for two extra days than we agreed upon, and it was getting to the point where I was questioning my own sanity.

It was so out of character for me. I had never broken the rules once - and now I’ve been waiting on the edge of my seat for Lucifer to return.

I lay down on my back just staring up at the sky and clouds as I let out a sigh. I begin to close my eyes and just listen to the sounds around me.

Eventually, the light dims causing me to open my eyes confused. As I do so I’m greeted with Lucifer’s face peering down at me and a smile forming on my lips.

He leaned in close, staring down at me, his eyes locked on my own. The warmth of his smile was comforting like a warm blanket.

He looked like a shining angel under the sunlight with that radiant smile.

He had come, like he promised he would. I had thought he had forgotten me, but here he was.

“Hi.” Is all I could say to him as we continue to stare at each other.

A soft and almost angelic laugh escapes him seeing my reaction. “Hi indeed.” He walks around to my side as I sit up. He extends his hand out to me, helping me stand up.

There was a mischievous glint to his eyes. “Glad you waited for me.”

I let go of his hand after I'd completely stood up and dust off my dress. “I was thinking you wouldn’t show up.”

“Well, I told you I would. And I’m a man of my word. I am sorry I was late though.” He puts on the most genuine smile that he can manage, all the while his eyes are full of mischief.

“So, have you thought about my offer yet?” Wanting to mess with him a little I stayed silent for a while. “Hmm, you know I think I need more time to think.” I tease.

Lucifer’s cheeks flush a little in embarrassment as he realises that I’m playing with him.

This makes him grin widely. “How much time do you need? Tomorrow? Day after that? A week?”

“How long would you be willing to wait for me?” I ask.

I then immediately get shy as I don’t know where that came from. I’ve never spoken like that before.

“For you? I’d be willing to wait all eternity if need be.” Lucifer speaks without hesitation, and without any sign of exaggeration.

It makes me wonder, is he being honest? Or is he just teasing me back, in turn?

I smile at him. “Tonight we can go to the waterfall. If that still works for you of course.”

Lucifer gives me an excited grin at the news. “Of course it works for me. It works extremely well for me.”

He then leans in closer to me, a small devilish grin on his face. “Are you excited?”

I realize I don’t mind being this close to him. Whenever Adam tried to get close to me like this I never liked it. But with Lucifer? It feels so different.

“I’m so excited.” I beam at him not being able to contain my excitement. A devilish sparkle is in his eyes as he smiles back at me.

“If you’re so excited, how come you’re not jumping up and down?” He teases her playfully.

That makes me laugh. “I’m obviously saving the jumping up and down for when we get there.” Lucifer chuckles along with me at my playfulness.

“But surely you can’t keep still right now, can you?” As if to demonstrate, he moves his hand to my waist and pulls me ever so slightly closer.

“You’re too excited for your own good. I can feel the energy coming off you.” I immediately feel my face heat up as I’m not sure what to say in response.

He lets his fingers trail up from my waist to my chin, and his thumb traces the curve of my jaw for a moment. “Aww, look at you. All flustered.” Again, he gives me that devilish little grin.

I lean into his touch slightly. After a moment I feel his hand tense slightly as I look up at him to see his eyes shift to look behind me.

I turn my head to look as well and notice Adam is coming back earlier than usual. Lucifer lets out a sigh.

The devilish sparkle in Lucifer’s eyes disappears as his face hardens into a serious expression as he watches Adam walking towards us.

“Ahhh damn it.” He groans under his breath as he pulls away from me. “I guess we have to cut this short. I’ll be back tonight around midnight.”

“Alright. I’ll see you then.” I give him a small wave before he disappears into the garden.

─── ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ───

Adam falls asleep quickly after the sun has gone down. After I’m sure he’s asleep I sit up to help keep myself awake.

I’m not sure how much longer until midnight but I wait patiently doing my best to stay up.

Every minute seemed like an hour and every hour like a day, but eventually, midnight rolled around.

The moon was visible in the night sky, brightly filling the darkness, and it was about as bright as it was going to get.

Lucifer appears in the distance, making his way towards me once again. “You’re still up? Impressive.”

“Impressive and very hard to accomplish.” I reply as I yawn. He reaches out his hand and I take to pulling myself up.

He chuckles. “Well, I’m glad you did. Because now we have the whole night ahead of us.” He takes her hand in his and brushes his other hand through her hair.

“So, are you ready to go see the waterfall now?” I grin at him. “So ready.”

He chuckles as he squeezes my hand a bit. “Then let’s go.”

He starts to lead me through the garden towards the waterfalls. We walked down a slightly hidden path for a little while before stepping into a clearing.

The waterfall was right ahead of us. It was so beautiful with the moonlight casting shadows, and the water making lovely and tranquil sounds as it dropped down.

My eyes light up at the view and a wide smile forms on my lips. “This is absolutely stunning.” I squeeze his hand slightly from excitement.

The moonlight hit Lucifer’s face making him look even more angelic as he beamed at my compliment. “It really is. It truly is amazing.”

He gazes at the waterfall for a few moments, taking in the sounds and the sights. “It’s even prettier with you here as well.” He leans in closer to whisper in my ear.

My face flushes and I giggle. “Come on, let's get closer to the water.” I pull him along as we get to the edge of the water and take a seat.

I let go of his hand to reach out and touch the water. Afterwards we sit in silence for a while admiring the view and the tranquillity of the night.

“Why didn’t Adam want me to see other parts of the garden?” I wonder out loud. I notice his body language and expression soften as he lets out a sigh.

"Well. The main reason he didn't want you exploring other parts of the garden was because there were things he didn't want you to see." He looks down at the ground for a few moments as if he's pondering something.

I look at him confused. “Like what? If it’s anything like this then why hide such beautiful things?”

Lucifer makes an apple appear in the palm of his hand. “This is the fruit of knowledge.”

I continue to stare at him more curiously now. I can tell he’s reluctant to say any more but he sighs and continues.

“It's a little bit complicated. If you eat this, there will be some things you'll know that you may not be ready for. You can't turn back once you eat it."

I study his face, trying to get a glimpse of some extra information, any advice at all. But his expression doesn’t give me any hints.

I reach out to take the apple from his palm. If he felt a need to tell me about this fruit of knowledge then I trust him.

“Just remember, you can’t take it back once you’ve eaten it.” He says softly, almost whispering.

I nod, taking one last look at the apple before bringing it up to my lips and taking a bite.

As I take a bite of the apple a sudden wave of knowledge comes over me. Everything makes so much more sense now.

Why Adam never wanted me to talk to Lucifer, why he didn’t like the ducking, why I was created. The whole reason I was created was to be a better made version of Lilith and Eve. All of it is finally coming together.

I was starting to understand things at an even deeper level, things that no one has ever thought to explain to me before.

“Why does Heaven want us to be shielded from this knowledge? It’s so… it’s so fulfilling to know I have the mind to make my own choices.” I say trying to wrap my head around why I was so shielded from this.

As I look at him he looks proud, proud that I’m an equal with him now. “Because they think we can’t handle it.” He responds. “We’re supposed to just do whatever they tell us with no regard for our own free will.”

“That’s not fair.” I whisper out sad that humanity is supposed to have a date like that.

“It’s not.” His voice is now tinged with frustration. “We should be able to make our own choices with full awareness of the consequences. If you had free will, there is no reason you shouldn’t have a full knowledge of that free will.”

He looks down at the waterfall for a moment to gather his thoughts. “You deserve to have the choice without being kept in the dark about certain things.”

“Thank you. Thank you for helping me realize this.” I grab his hands in my own to show how much I appreciate him.

Lucifer wraps his hands around mine, taking comfort from the warmth.

He looks down at our hands and his expression softens. His voice is tender when he speaks back to me.

“You deserve it. Anyone does. Knowledge is the most valuable thing one can possess, and you were robbed of it for too long.”

“I don’t- I don’t think I can go back to Adam knowing all of this.” I start to worry. “What will happen to me? The same thing that happened to Lilith and Eve?”

Lucifer seems to have been anticipating this question. He lets out a sad sigh as the expression on his face turns somber.

"Yes. You will most likely get cast from the Garden of Eden just the same as Lilith and Eve were." His eyes drift to the horizon for a moment as he thinks of ways to comfort me.

"But,” He gazes back at me with a gleam in his eyes. "If you come with me you’ll be spared of most of the pain that comes with being cast from here.”

My eyes dart over his whole body until they end up looking back at his own eyes. “I can do that?”

Lucifer's expression softens even more as I ask him that very important question. "Yes. You most certainly can." He says with a smile.

His eyes search mine, hoping this is the thing I really want. "Just say the word, and you're free to leave with me and never come back."

“It will cost you a lot. And it’s nowhere as pretty as this.” He adds making sure I fully understand.

I grab his face in my hands and kiss him. As I pull away I stare at him with such a fond expression. “I’m eternally yours Lucifer.”

He pulls me back in and kisses me again, taking his time to enjoy the moment.

When we pull apart again, his eyes are filled with such raw love. He can’t help it. The feeling just overwhelms him.

Lucifer smiles at me and he cups my face in both of his hands this time, his eyes staring into my own.

"And I'm eternally yours, my love.” I start to giggle. “Does that mean I get to be the queen of Hell?”

A devilish grin spreads across his face at this thought. “Why yes, I think the title suits you just fine.” He winks at me as he stands up, pulling me up with him.

Lucifer also takes one last appreciative glance at the waterfall before turning to look at me.

His eyes are glittering as he smiles at me. "So, my love, are you ready to leave?" I nod.

“I like where this friendly little conversation led us.” I say as Lucifer gets ready to transport us to Hell.

The next moment, our surroundings are completely changed. The waterfall is gone now, replaced by the harshness of Hell.

“I told you there was nothing wrong with just a friendly chat to pass the time.” He teases me and I give him a huge smile.

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momolady · 2 years

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Magnus the Siren

Imagine if you lived next to one of the loudest people in the village. They're music and voice carry out almost like an enchantment. Now imagine this loud fellow had a certain affection for you. I also challenge you to guess who this character is based on.

Female Reader x Male Monster (both cis)

---------------------------------------------------

The disruption usually happens at dawn. Which, in itself, is aggravating enough to be woken up too. But it’s the music that wakes you up which is the most aggravating. You lay there in bed, staring up at your ceiling while a lute is strummed at such a high volume that the air is filled with nothing else but its raucous sound.

If that weren’t enough, the one playing the lute also had to sing. His voice carried through the morning air, causing the dew to shine and reflect light so brightly into windows, it was even harder to ignore.

It was by this point you would get up, throw on a robe, and step outside. Just beyond your guard there was a hill, and one that hill was a large, strange house that seemed to lean to one side. It was from there that music flowed.

“Shut up, Magnus!” You yelled this every morning. Sometimes you yelled other things, but this was usually the most uttered.

The singing stopped and the strumming of the lute became much softer. “Good morning, neighbor!” The music carried on and his song changed to start singing good morning to you.

You growled under your breath, turning back inside. You tried all you could without having to go into his presence.

For years no one lived in that strange house, then one day, out of the blue, that music started one morning. Every day at dawn Magnus rose and played his lute, singing his ridiculous songs until all the hillside was awake. Why some people liked him you could understand, but you never got onto that boat.

“So many of the girls in town love him,” you heard through whispers one day.

“He comes in, charms them, and leaves them lovesick puppies. Like nothing we have here is good enough for him,” another whisper scoffed.

You turned to listen to the conversation, curious as anyone would be. You hadn’t met Magnus yet, but you certainly had heard enough about him. Though this bit of gossip was all new to you.

“He got to my girl!” One whisper exclaimed. “She’s not looked at me twice since. All she does is sing and dance around.”

“What a cad. Going after someone’s broad like that,” the other whisper snarled.

You frowned at this, gently setting down what you were looking at and walked away. “Serves him right to lose her to that singing loon,” you thought to yourself. “Talk shit like that, you shouldn’t be surprised when it falls into your lap.” As a butcher, you knew what ‘broad’ really meant.

A few days later, you would meet Magnus for yourself; during the summer festival and parade. The main part of town was packed and overflowing with people. You were scooting along the street, trying to get to your shop at the end of town. But it was growing more and more difficult to traverse the farther you went. People became thicker packed the more you went, so you decided to go the long way around, hopping off main street, and going down a small alley.

There was a small cluster of people leaning against one of the walls. As you approached, one thrust out their hand to you.

“Got any spare change, ducky?” The young man asked with a forceful tone, but the others sniggered as they came off the wall.

Pickpockets and other thieves were always busy during the festivals. It surprised you little to come across some going down an alley.

“Afraid I’ve already given my charity for the day.” You continued to walk, but your path was cut off.

You sighed heavily and glanced back towards the man who still had his hand out. “I have no money. You are more likely to get something from a stone than you are me.”

You were becoming encroached upon, and the helpless feeling of being unable to move crept in. You felt lucky, after all, you had taken home your best knife the night before to properly sharpen. You just hated the thought of dulling it before you got to work.

“I’m sure you’ve got more than nothing,” the thief laughed. “Everyone has something today.”

You were ready to pull out your knife when a laugh filled the narrow alleyway. “My goodness, such a crowd. Such a crowd!”

A tall figure towered over the pickpockets at the back. “Beg your pardon. Beg your pardon,” the new person laughed. “Ah yes, thank you,” he chortled as the crowd parted for him.

He was huge, broad like a barn and probably just as tall. From behind, his feathered arms shone with deep green and gold, and at the top of his head was a red comb.

“Neighbor!” He announced loudly. “So good to see you here.” He came up towards you, placing his hands upon your shoulders. “We’ve not been properly introduced!”

“Excuse me,” the thief snarled.

Magnus turned, looking back at him. “Yes, hello there!”

You glared up at him, hand still readied on your knife under your skirt. “They’re thieves” you whispered between clenched teeth.

“Leaves? What leaves! It’s summer!” Magnus laughed merrily. He then winked at you. “No need to go stabbing at leaves after all, not when they are in midair.”

You were taken by surprise! How could he know?

The thief grabbed Magnus’ shoulder. “We were talking to the lady first.”

“Ah, I see,” Magnus turned slightly. “Forgive my manners. Sometimes I can’t help but forget them. I have had this song sung stuck in my head, you see, and nothing else seems to get through to me when that happens.” He turned around, shoving the thief’s hand off his shoulder.

“Tell me, have you heard this tune?” Magnus began whistling, and while the tune is familiar, you weren’t sure you’ve heard it before.

“That’s it-” The thief went to swing, but his feet began to float up. He flipped upside down, as did all the other pickpockets in the alley.

You noticed too that you were starting to lift up and be carried like a dandelion seed into the air.

“Don’t worry, neighbor! I have you!” Magnus grabbed your hand, pulling you away like a child with a balloon.

Above you could see the pickpockets floating above the buildings, they were screaming, but couldn’t be heard over the caucus of the parade.

“What did you do?” You shouted at Magnus, your legs now far above your head. You tried to fight with your skirt, but it was a losing battle.

“They’ll come down safely! Not to worry,” Magnus guffawed. “Did you see their faces? That was wonderful!”

“You’re crazy!”

“And you’re unharmed.” He took you towards your butcher shop, despite the looks you received along the way.

Once you were at your store you floated down to the ground.

“There now, right as rain.” Magnus smiled. His beak was shining gold, and his gray eyes still shone brighter.

You smoothed down your clothes and looked at him, unsure if you should be annoyed or grateful. “Thank you, I suppose. Even if your method was maddening.”

Magnus tilted his head to the side. “You didn’t like it?”

“I would have been fine, but I am grateful I didn’t have to resort to my method.” You then pouted. “Yours was the safer option.” You searched your deep pockets trying to find your keys.

“I’d say a bloodbath on such a magnificent day would be a mood killer.” Magnus hummed and your front door opened.

You stared back up at him, stiffening your back and narrowing your gaze. “I’ll let that slide for your help today. But before you go, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

Magnus laid both feathered hands upon his barreled out chest. “I love questions, especially about myself.”

You took a step closer to him. “You play that lute every morning and sing as loud as hell; what the hell for?”

Magnus smiled brightly. “So that my sun will rise.”

The sun rose with or without provocation. But if that was his reasoning, you at least had something. “That’s all?”

Magnus nodded. “As far as I know.”

You sighed, unsatisfied with the answer, but pleased to have one. “I owe you a thanks. If there is anything I can do for you, I owe you a favor.”

“Wonderful!” He cheered. “I will certainly keep that in mind.”

You smiled faintly then went into your shop to begin the day and he went on down the street, happily singing to himself.

Summer came and went, and the first signs of fall began with a slight shift in color outside. Crisp mornings were becoming a welcomed pleasure. And your shop was getting more and more orders for marrow bones so that people could make stocks for the oncoming cold.

One afternoon, as you were finishing packing up such bones to send with your delivery boy, Magnus walked in.

“Good afternoon, neighbor!” He announced himself quite loudly.

You were wrapping up a bone with twine and wax paper. “Magnus, long time no see. Good to know there is still a body attached to that voice of yours.”

Magnus chuckled smugly. “As my neighbor, you must get the music while it is still fresh and warm, like a loaf of bread. Others in town must hear it when it is stale.”

You grunted in reply, attaching a tag to the wrapped marrow bone. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’ve come to collect that favor you owe me.”

You had almost forgotten about it. It had been months ago, and nothing had been spoken between the two of you since; aside from the usual neighborly things.

“That’s right,” you murmured. “I’m a bit busy right now is it possible to-”

“Oh heavens not now. I only just thought of it! I came here while it was still on my mind, because sooner or later I would forget and keep putting it off and-”

“Magnus,” you chimed to get him back on track. “Just tell me.”

“Oh right!” His chest fluffed out and he swooped his wing over his waist. “I would like you to make me dinner.”

“But I’m not a cook,” you said plainly. “I’m a butcher.”

Magnus’ smile became sweeter, and those bright gray eyes took on a puppy-like appearance. “But you can still make a meal, right?”

You wiped your hands on your apron. “I suppose.”

He raised two long fingers. “Then you can make a meal for two? Yes?”

“Possibly.” You eyed him, letting a smile grow. “Might I ask why this is the favor you’re coming for?”

Magnus waved his finger. “I think that’s a conversation for dinner. Don’t you? Just so we’ll have something to break the ice. I know you're off on Sundays, will that be okay for our supper?”

You sighed, but your smile grew. “As good as any.”

“Wonderful!” He cheered. “I will arrive with bells on.”

Knowing him, you thought, he probably would. You started to turn back to your work, but Magnus approached the counter again.

He started speaking very intensely. “By the way, I know this may hinder you, maybe even offend you considering your business, but I don’t eat meat.”

You looked him up and down. “You don’t eat meat?”

“I do not eat it,” he said sincerely.

You clicked your tongue. “Well, alright. I’ll figure something out I suppose.”

Magnus beamed again as he stood upright. “Wonderful! Thank you so much for the consideration. I look forward to what you can do.”

You were no cook, at least nothing special. You knew how to make meat and potatoes taste good to you. This would be a whole new chore.

You managed to get a couple of recipes from some of the grannies who visited your shop a lot. One gave you her special vegetable broth recipe. Another provided you with her garlic rolls recipe. Then another gave you an eggplant and how to cook it. All of them adored Magnus and were eager to try and impress him vicariously through you.

“What on earth does this guy do to these ladies?” You grumbled as you kneaded the dough for the rolls. The garlic was exceptionally strong, almost spicy in the air. “I know his music has some sort of power, maybe that’s his game.”

Just as you had placed the eggplant into the oven, there was a knock upon your door.

“Geez,” you huffed, wiping your hands on your apron. “Who could this be?” You walked across the kitchen to the door, finding Mgnus standing there tuning his lute.

“It's way too early!” You exclaimed out of shock.

“I know, I came to bask in your warm company.” Magnus let himself in, sitting at the kitchen table which was still covered in flour from when you rolled the dough for the garlic rolls.

“I haven’t even cleaned up yet, you’ll get flour on you!” You tried to shoo him away but he started playing his lute.

“What is your most favorite song in the world?” Magnus asked, oblivious to your efforts to wipe up the table.

“What’s yours?” You asked, finally able to sweep away the flour without hitting him.

He plucked the strings on his lute and thought deeply. “Sweet rose, sweet dew drop.”

“Sounds saccharine.” You sighed. “But if you must play, play.”

Magnus was smiling, tuning the lute again. “Do you not like my playing, neighbor? You seem annoyed.”

“I hear your music every morning. I hear it loud and clear as if you are inside my head.”

“But do you like it?”

You cut your eyes at him. “If I didn’t hear it exploding in my bedroom each morning, maybe I would.”

“You wake each morning to my songs,” he hummed softly. He strummed and hummed, going soft and quiet unlike what you were used to.

“I do.” You go back towards the oven. “You told me once why you do it, but I still find it a bit odd.”

“My sun,” he sang softly. “I want her to rise. I want to open her shining eyes. She lights up my day and it is night when she’s gone. I’m singing to her in hopes of my dawn.”

“That’s lovely,” you murmured. “But still odd. The sun rises and falls no matter what we do.”

Magnus smirked towards you. “You think so?”

Something about his gaze made your stomach flop upside down. “Isn’t that how it works? After all, it’s more powerful than us.”

“She is,” Magnus spoke softly again. He then perked up, his comb rising high on his head. He then looked at you excitedly. “What have you made for dinner?”

“Oh, well, I had some help from some of the grannies you come to my shop,” you replied. “I have a vegetable stew, garlic rolls, and some sort of eggplant thing.”

“Eggplant thing?”

You made an awkward smile. “I followed the recipe, but I’m still not sure what it’ll turn into.”

Magnus laughed. “You really aren’t a cook.”

“Not at all.”

Despite all your hostility and annoyance with him because of his morning singing, you found yourself drawn to him. He didn’t have to sing or play his music, but there was definitely an allure he had. This may have been the same charm that all the other women in town were attracted to. Even as you fed him, he didn’t complain. The eggplant was awful, but he still ate it regardless.

As he left to go home, he turned in the doorway to look at you. “When I sing in the morning, will you listen to me?”

You were a bit surprised. “I mean, I always have to.”

Magnus shook his head. “No. I mean listen.”

You weren’t sure what he meant, but you nodded as bid him goodnight.

Come morning, you were woken by the sound of his lute being strummed. Still loud as ever, but somehow it sounded so much softer than all other mornings. His voice, too, sounded lighter and airier.

From that morning onward, his music sounded sweet and calming. You woke up gently rather than annoyed. And to your surprise, one morning, you walked outside and yelled.

“Good morning, Magnus!”

“Good morning, neighbor!” he crowed back with a sound of triumph.

A few days later, just as you were closing up shop, Magnus came through the door. “I was wondering if I could walk you home?” He asked.

You pushed a loose lock of hair from your face. “What for?”

Magnus smiled. “Do I need a reason?”

You sighed and went along. You were silent at the start of the walk, but as he started to hum a question rose in your mind.

“Has your music changed? Because it is nowhere near as annoying as it used to be,” you said.

“I’ve not changed it in the slightest. I did ask you to listen though.” He placed a wing around you back, settling his hand on your arm.

You watched his dark fingers on your sleeve then glanced back into his gray eyes. “Then tell me what you are doing.”

“Doing?” He asked.

“All the women, and some men, in this village have some level of attraction or fascination to you. Is that what you are trying to do with me?” You said pointedly.

“Oh gosh,” he said in thought. “I’m not trying to woo anyone. I’m just nice to everyone. I treat them like I want to be treated. You’re the only one I’ve been trying to woo.”

Your stomach flopped again. “You’re teasing me!”

“I told you, I always sing to raise my sun.” There was no irony to his tone, no sense of teasing. He was being honest.

“Me?” You exclaimed. “I’m the sun?”

Magnus tilted his head to the side. “You didn’t get that?”

“No!” You blurted.

He sighed and dipped his head down. “Oh gosh, I’m no good at these kinds of things. I thought I was being clear.” He pouted a bit. “You’re just my type. It’s part of why I got that weird house on the hill. So I could be close, maybe see you in the morning-” He started to get embarrassed. “But all I can do is sing.”

You cocked up a brow in shock. “Type?”

Magnus went silent, going from slightly shy to very shy. “Well yeah.”

“And what would that be?”

He looked away, his smile faint, and his expression demure. He shifted a bit, taking a step back from you. “You’re a little mean and bossy,” he muttered.

“Should I be offended?” You grumbled.

He shook his head. “I mean that in a good way. I know I don’t look it, being as tall as I am, but I like to feel like I am small and-” Magnus shut his beak and turned away.

“So-” You tried to piece this together as best you could. “You like me because I make you feel this way?”

He nodded.

“Well, this wasn’t what I was expecting,” you huffed.

“I don’t mean to make this sound weird. I really do like you for much more than my own oddities.” He fidgeted with his fingers. “You’re strong and witty, your not afraid of anything. But you’re also tender and sweet, and you have such a nice...shape.” It sounded like he had more to say, but he decided to end it with that one word.

You pressed your lips together and looked at the ground. “You have a nice shape yourself.”

Magnus chuckled, then you chuckled.

“Maybe we can show off each other’s shape one day,” Magnus said shyly. “If you’d like such a thing.”

“Not tonight, maybe Sunday?” You suggested.

His eyes widened and he turned to you with a look of shock. “You really-you would-you are-” He couldn’t get out what he wanted to say.

“Maybe this time you could make dinner?”

“Okay!” He exclaimed happily. “Come over whenever you’d like!”

You still weren’t exactly sure on what to take in. You just knew you held an excitement in your chest that didn’t go away until Sunday morning. You heard him singing on his hill, and that excitement burst, turning into urgency and nerves.

You waited as long as you could before heading up the hill. It was still a bit early for dinner, but had shown up early to your home as well. Once he opened the door you knew you came at the right time.

“Good! You did come!” Magnus pulled you inside.

“I was bored anyways,” you said nervously.

Magnus gripped your hand. “Let me give you a tour.” He took you through the odd house, which was larger inside than you expected.

Most of the rooms were filled with musical instruments, sheet music, and long scrolls tucked into vases and buckets. Up in the tower was his room, which he took you to with a proud look on his face. He showed you the balcony where he played his music each morning. From that perch you could see your house below.

“You really are singing to me.”

Magnus nodded. “I like seeing you walk out your door every morning. I often wonder what you’re doing or how you wake up.”

You look him over then stare back into the room. “Your bed is much bigger than mine, but I could show you.”

Magnus swallowed. “Really?”

You took hold of his hand and led him over to the bed. You made him lay down upon his back and placed his hands upon his chest. “I lay like this when I go to sleep. Although; come morning I’m on my side.” You then crawled on top of him, straddling your thighs around his waist.

Magnus gulped and his feathers on his chest fluffed up. “Do...do you usually wake up feeling heavy?”

You shook your head. “No. I just did this to get you here.” You leaned down, kissing his beak and down to his cheek. Magnus ruffled and moaned, arching his back as you drug your hands down his chest.

“I see. I like that,” he laughed.

You opened up his shirt, stroking down the sleek feathers that went from black-green to golden ginger. “You’re quite colorful. It’s lovely.”

Magnus nodded, holding his breath as your hands explored his body. You rolled your hips, rubbing yourself against the front of his trousers.

“I hope you don’t think I’m being too forceful,” you murmured.

He shook his head. “Just the right amount of forceful.” He opened his eyes back up to look at you. “I was hoping this would happen. Although I’m a bit embarrassed by that thought.”

You kissed his beak again then placed your hand around his throat. “What else were you hopeful for.”

He shivered at your touch, moaning loudly then sucking in his breath. “Just uhm-” He wiggled beneath you, rubbing himself against you. “Just that you would uhm-”

You moved your hand away.

“Play with me!” He yelped and you placed your hand back. “Play with me-” he moaned again. “Like I’m your own personal toy.”

You smirked. “How fun. Anything else?”

His eyes moved towards a small chest sitting by his bed. You picked it up, setting it on his chest as you looked through. Inside there were a few strange objects, one was small and bulbous, maybe of a black shining stone. There were two phallic-shaped crystals, one was a clear quartz and had small ball shapes through the shaft. The second was bigger, made of rose quartz, and flared at the base and was wattahced to a leather belt.

“Should I use these before I use you?” You teased.

Magnus fidgeted again. “I’d love to watch but-”

Inside the chest was also a flask filled with olive oil. “You’re excited today. I get it.” You lifted yourself off him, sitting by his side as you undid his belt and tugged down his pants.

Since he was a type of siren, his anatomy below was a little different. There was a growth that rose from his loins, along with a small opening. You trailed your fingers around the opening, which felt warm and wet within.

Magnus gasped and his back rose from the bed. You slipped a finger inside, feeling him tighten around you while his voice became much higher and more aroused.

“You’ll be very fun to play with, Magnus.” You panted as you moved your finger inside. You added another finger, which made him whimper and throw his head back.

“There now.” You pulled out your fingers then rose from the bed to undress. Magnus watched you with awe, his eyes gazing down your body. Your arms and back were strong from your work as a butcher, so you never felt quite pretty until his eyes landed upon you. In his gaze you felt like a beauty.

“I knew you’d be stunning,” he panted.

You put on the leather belt and Magnus’ eyes became dewy. You poured olive oil into your palm, rubbing the shaft like it was your own.

As Magnus watched you climbed back onto the bed and threw his legs over your shoulders. He whimpered as the rose quartz touched against him.

“I’ll go easy, but I have a feeling you’re used to this.” You watched in awe as the rose quartz disappeared inside him. He cried out and you bit your lip.

Magnus started singing a new song. His voice peaked and rang out as you drove the rose quartz inside him. Your own wetness grew as you watched him. His body writhed in such a sweet, docile way. Eventually you couldn’t take it anymore.

You took off the belt and left the rose quartz inside him. You mounted him again, taking his shaft inside you.

“Yes!” Magnus cried out. “You’re all around me.” His hands gripped around your thick waist. “All you!”

You rutted on top of him, feeling him warm and hard inside. You pressed your hands to his belly, taking leverage as you began moving.

“Oh my sun!” Magnus cried. “My shining, glorious star! Take me! All of me!”

You moaned and reached out, placing your hand around his throat. “You’re mine. You’re all mine.”

Magnus grinned with glee, bucking his hips upward inside you. You cried out, throwing your head back and letting your hair spill around your shoulders. You reached back, thrusting the rose quartz inside him. He bucked harder, whimpering pitifully, even starting to cry.

Something inside you was rising. It was coming fast and hot inside your belly, shooting through your chest. You and Magnus were singing together, duetting as this rising sun inside you began to spill out.

You shivered, thighs tightening around Magnus. The rose quartz slipped from inside him, and he whimpered as tears rolled from his gray eyes. You leaned forward, falling onto his barreled chest and laying there as his shaft popped out from inside you.

You both laid in silence. You breathed in sync until it felt like you were fading from this world. Magnus’ wings wrapped around you and he started singing softly.

��My sun, I want her to rise. I want to open her shining eyes. She lights up my day and it is night when she’s gone. I’m singing to her in hopes of my dawn.”

You smiled and nuzzled to his chest. “I love your song,” you murmured.

“Finally,” he chuckled.

#exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster love #monster romance #monster fudger #monsterxhuman #monsterxreader #siren #momolady monsters #my writng

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ncisfranchise-source · 2 months

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“Tiva” is back. CBS Studios is expanding its ever growing NCIS franchise by bringing back two fan favorite characters from the mothership series, Tony DiNozzo, played by Michael Weatherly, and Ziva David, portrayed by Cote de Pablo, who will reunite on screen for the first time in 10 years. Paramount+ has given a 10-episode series order to the untitled spinoff headlined by Weatherly and de Pablo and written by John McNamara (Trumbo, The Magicians). All three executive produce.

Nicknamed NCIS: Europe, the new action-packed spinoff, set to start production later this year, will follow Tony (Weatherly) and Ziva (de Pablo) as they find themselves on the run across the continent.

NCIS is one of CBS Studios’ most valuable franchises and its expansion has been a goal for the studio. This is one of two new NCIS offshoots greenlighted this year, along with the Young Gibbs prequel series for CBS, NCIS: Origins. It is also the second extension of the NCIS franchise beyond the U.S., following NCIS: Sydney, which has been airing on CBS in the U.S.

After Ziva’s (de Pablo) supposed death, Tony (Weatherly) left the NCIS team to go raise their daughter. Years later, Ziva was discovered alive, leading her to complete one final mission with NCIS before she was reunited with Tony and their daughter in Paris. Since then – and where we find them in the new Paramount+ original series – Tony and Ziva have been raising their daughter, Tali, together. When Tony’s security company is attacked, they must go on the run across Europe, trying to figure out who is after them and maybe even learn to trust each other again so that they can finally have their unconventional happily ever after.

“We’ve been talking about this story for many years, and now with John McNamara at the helm, we are ready,” Weatherly and de Pablo said. “The world of Tony and Ziva (and daughter Tali) promises to be an action-packed roller coaster fueled by love, danger, tears and laughter. We also want to acknowledge and thank the fans from around the world who supported the ‘Tiva’ movement for years. To this day, they say hello in grocery stores and on the street to tell us how much these characters mean to them and ask what Tony and Ziva are up to now. This is for you!”

Weatherly hinted at a potential ‘Tiva’ reunion last month when his New Year’s tweet, “It’s time to look at time and enjoy the moment!” prompted a fan to respond, “We all would rather look at you and Ziva reuniting.” Weatherly highlighted the comment, adding, “Stay tuned… for this might be an interesting year for such ‘moments’!” He further fueled speculation this week by responding to a fan tweet lamenting about him and de Pablo, “miss the chemistry and magic you both create,” with the cryptic, “the universe works in mysterious ways…”

De Pablo, Weatherly and McNamara executive produce the spinoff series with Laurie Lieser, Christina Strain and Shelley Meals. The series is distributed by Paramount Global Content Distribution.

“I’m incredibly excited to step into the NCIS universe with Cote and Michael and thrilled to explore it from a few new angles,” McNamara said. “Given that the franchise is such a global sensation, I think it’s phenomenal that CBS Studios and Paramount+ have given us the greenlight to shoot in Europe. As to the title of this series, if I told you what it is, I’d be violating the Espionage Act.”

Weatherly, an original NCIS cast member, had been with the series since its launch in 2003. He left after 13 seasons and went on to headline another CBS/CBS Studios drama, Bull. Speculation about his potential return to the NCIS franchise picked up after Bull ended its run last spring. He recently did a surprise cameo in the Ducky tribute episode of the mothership series.

De Pablo joined NCIS in Season 3. She appeared in Seasons 3 through 10 and exited the series early in Season 11. In the Season 13 finale, it was revealed that Ziva apparently had died in an explosion in Israel. She returned three years later in 2019, where it was revealed she was alive and had gone into hiding. She made a surprise unannounced return in the last scene of the season 16 finale, which aired on May 21, 2019, in which Ziva arrives at Gibbs’ basement to warn him that his life is in danger. She later appeared in the first two episodes of the show’s 17th season and in that season’s 10th and 11th episodes as part of her storyline.

Weatherly, repped by Anonymous Content, Verve, and McKuin Frankel Whitehead, and de Pablo, repped by UTA and Entertainment 360, have remained close off-screen. In 2018, they teamed up to executive produce detective drama MIA, which was set up at CBS.

Twenty-one seasons in — currently ranking as the third-longest-running U.S. primetime drama — the mothership NCIS series remains the most watched non-sports program on broadcast. A big global seller, which once ranked as the most watched drama in the world, the venerable procedural has spawned three spinoffs in the U.S., NCIS: Los Angeles, NCIS: New Orleans as well as NCIS: Hawai’i, which kicked off its fourth season. The franchise recently went international with its first non-American offshoot, NCIS: Sydney, which also has done very well in the U.S., ranking as the most watched new series of the fall.

Veteran showrunner McNamara most recently served as an executive producer on the Apple TV+ series Physical and prior to that co-created and executive produced Syfy’s The Magicians.

#ncis #tiva #ncis europe

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kayadrake123 · 2 years

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Random Tim Drake relationship headcanons

Tim Drake x GN!Reader

Tim definitely plays guitar, electric guitar to be exact. He owns at least 3, but his favourite is a light blue one that was gifted to him by Bruce as a welcome gift after his adoption.

He likes to play you songs while you’re both on a break from work and just chilling out in his room. Sometimes you fall asleep to his playing, which causes him to resort to playing his guitar whenever he can see you’re having trouble falling asleep.

You sometimes ask him to learn specific songs just so you can hear what he sounds like playing them. And as he is in everything he does, he plays it fucking perfectly.

Tim isn’t a big reader. He actually despises reading cause he just can’t force himself to get through the first few pages. All the words end up giving him a headache (mainly because he never wears his glasses but we’ll get to that later)

He does however enjoy hearing you speak about the books you read if you’re a reader. He also really enjoys listening to you read to him, as your voice soothes him and he thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

Most times when you read to him, he lays on your stomach with his eyes closed as you brush your hand through his hair, your legs tangled together.

Tim is obsessed with his s/o’s voice. He loves when you say his name and the way you say certain words (especially if you have an accent). He thinks it’s the most angelic thing ever known to man. You have the ability to calm him down by just opening your mouth and letting him hear your beautiful voice (that and he’d rather drop dead than not do what his s/o tells him).

TIM DRAKE WEARS GLASSES. There I said it. He doesn’t need to wear it all the time, but he especially needs them when he needs to read. All the late nights in the dark staring at a computer screen really does take a toll on your eyesight. He looks goddamn adorable in his glasses (and fucking hot ;) ) If you wear glasses, he thinks it makes you ten times hotter :))

Tim can be fucking cold. Man is calm and friendly (not overly cause he’s emo) and really down to earth most of the time, but when someone really pisses him off, oooooh boy.

He’s the type of person who doesn’t need to raise his voice to hurt you, his words cut deep enough bro. Like he’s really sarcastic half of the time, but in a fight his sarcasm is intensified with the intent of making you hurt badddd bro. He doesn’t mean to do it, it just happens in the heat of the moment.

He also tends to distance himself when he’s beyond pissed off with you, like he doesn’t trust himself around you not to say really hurtful things. It isn’t the case with everyone else, but he eventually allows you to try and get him to talk to you again. With his friends and family he snaps at them for trying, but again, you bring out a calmness in him.

Tim will only ever drink black coffee.

Man is super touchy. Like at the beginning of your relationship he wasn’t as affectionate due to him having a lack of physical affection in his life from his parents, but the more he became comfortable with you, the more his hands began to roam ;)

He prefers physical touch over words of affirmation for himself as he has a hard time speaking about his feelings. When he does say words of affirmation, it’s completely random but makes you melt all the same.

He likes taking pictures of you like a mom does with their kids. He can’t help it, he just thinks you’re fucking beautiful and amazing and wow.

His whole family loves you, but you’re closest to Cass, Steph and Duke. They just really enjoy your company and often try to steal you away from Tim, which annoys him.

His nicknames from you consist of “Timmy”, “Duckie”, “Birdy” and loads more

He loves to call you nicknames that have a link to a funny or cute experience he’s had with you. People always find it so cute when you explain it to them.

He’s so soft with you. His touch, the way he looks at you and speaks to you. He’s so delicate when it comes to you and he’s so in love.

#tim drake #batfam x reader #tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #tik drake angst #Tim Drake fluff #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #duke thomas #dc comics #batman #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #bruce wayne x reader

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princess-ibri · 8 months

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Art (click for better quality) and "Prologue" for a hypothetical book on Grimhilde's backstory. Basically, if Disney had hired me to write the Villains series, here's how I would have tackled the story that started it all:

Prologue

She was seven years old when first she saw the Mirror.

She was meant to be in the nursery, playing with her dolls or practicing her sewing, perhaps throwing crumbs to the doves that clustered on the window-sills like piles of fluffy shifting snow in the summertime.

But she had not wanted to do any of those things.She wanted to go down to the stables, and peer in at the beautiful creature that now lived there. A fine young colt, jet black but for a white star set perfectly in the center of it's brow. It had been a gift from some visiting noble seeking to court favor with the young future heir.

A gift meant for her brother.

She had not received any such a fine gift. She had received a doll. Pretty and poised in its pink and white perfection, and taken from a pile of gifts meant for his own daughter. A trifle to appease a princess the nobleman had forgotten even existed.

And though she was only a child still, and could not yet ride and did not even know she had wanted to ride, until she had seen this beautiful creature, the slight had stung, and burrowed deep.

It was her first experience with envy. And with hate.

She loved her brother of course. He was her twin, her confidant and her only friend. Dolls and puppies and even ponies did not count. Certainly not the silly nursery maids who went around cooing as if they were an oversized flock of doves themselves. She could not talk to any of them and expect them to talk sense back. But though she loved him, she also now envied him. Deeply.

And she hated the nobleman for putting the envy in her heart. For not seeing her as just as worthy of such a prize. For not thinking of her at all beyond that she was a girl and a princess and so a doll was perfectly acceptable to give. She hated him with all the pure burning heat of a first hate. Passionate and Consuming.

And it was this burning, white hot hate that made her slip from the nursery, down the long corridors and up the winding stair, to ask Nanny for a curse.

"A curse duckie? What sort of curse now? And for whom? How strong a curse? How long a curse? Ye must think these things through my dearie."

She told Nanny, her small fists shaking as she spoke, of the preening nobleman, courting her brother's favor. Of the black horse with the star on its brow. Of her jealousy. Of her hate. How she would caste such a curse on him that it would hound him till the ends of the earth, if she only knew how.

Nanny's high rattling cackle echoed around the tower room, sending the spiders in the eaves above scurrying frantically about.

"Oh duckie, ye have the spark to cast one, that ye do. I can see it burning' in your dear little eyes. Your mother hasn't that, though she has the cold heart for it. She's always had to rely on dear old Nanny Hex, and the Mirror of course. Well you come along with old Nanny then, come along now, and let's see what mischief we two can do."

Nanny Hex was not her nanny, not the one who watched over her and her brother in the nursery, a tall stern woman who made sure they ate their meals without staining and played only with appropriate decorum, as befitted a prince and princess.

Nor did she wear a large white cap and spectacles like her nursery nanny did. Nanny Hex's hat was tall and black, with a large shiny buckle, silver like the moon. Her eyes were large and slightly crooked, so any spectacles that tried to sit upon her already slanted nose would have had their work cut out for them. She was small and hunched, with one limping foot, which she alleviated by use of a walking stick nearly as gnarled as the hands that held it.

She did not know how old Nanny was. Old enough that she had been her mother's nanny in truth, raising the young princess from infancy to womanhood. But she had been old then as well, if the whispers of the court were to be believed.

Those who were less foolish in their gossip spoke of the magnanimity of Queen Richilde, to take such care of her old nurse in her dotage as to allow her chambers within the palace itself.

The less prudent would scoff over the Queen's favor towards 'such a wizened and ghastly old crone'.

Such as these never lasted long at court, and misfortune seemed to follow them into their exiles as well. Nanny, for all her years, still had a sharp ear, and a long reach.

It was Nanny who had taught her mother how to use the Mirror. Gazing into its depths to outwit the suitors who came to try and win Richilde's hand when her father, wearying of her reluctance to wed, had offered it in contest.

Ninety and nine men had tried and failed to win her, each one discovered and undone with the aid of the Mirror's all knowing gaze.

The last, the man who had fathered her and her brother, had succeeded only through magical aid of his own. He had tried his hand at the contest only to avenge the two brothers who had failed before him. But one look at Richilde's face, and he had fallen in love as one falls to a fever, or madness. And he had adored her until the day he died; the day after she and her brother had been born.

A hunting accident, they said. Her grandfather passed soon after, a fever. Her mother had ruled alone ever since.

She had heard the story many times, from nurses, but they had spoken only of her father's side of the tale. Of his cleverness, of the fox and bird and fish that had aided him in winning her mother's hand. They knew nothing of the Mirror.

Of that, she had learned from Nanny, in whispers and promises. Promises she had made to her mother long ago. Promises that now, it seemed, would be fulfilled.

The Mirror stood in the highest part of Nanny's tower, in the center of a wide room encircled by wide windows, looking out over the city and the forests beyond.

It was a large, bejeweled thing. Taller than her, taller than Nanny, a golden oval formed from the bodies of two filigreed snakes, mouths open in agony. Upon the apex of the oval was the gleaming design of a crown, backed by the fan of a peacock's tail, inlaid with pearls and lapis lazuli. The royal insignia of her house, standing proudly above the serpents which symbolized the land her ancestors had conquered.

But the Mirror itself was dark, an empty expanse like a great pit. No light reflected from it; indeed it seemed to draw the light from the windows into itself, rendering the room the appearance of shadow even now, in the heat of the day She could see no reflection of herself in it at first; it wavered into being, as if coming from far away, from the depths of the world.

"You stand before it now, duckie, and tell it who you are and what you want. Call and ask it in this wise now"

And Nanny told her what to say, and do.

She stood before the Mirror, looking at her reflection, small yet clear. She had her mother's dark hair and pale complexion, made even paler in this noon-day twilight. Her eyes, green as emeralds, were her father's people said. Those eyes now flashed with an inner light, an expectation of what was about to come, as she lifted her arms high above her head, and spoke.

"Slave in the magic mirror, come from the farthest space, through wind and darkness I summon thee. Speak! Let me see thy face."

There came first wind, whipping her hair about her head so that it looked like a writhing of black snakes. Though not a tree outside the tower was seen to move.

Then there came the crack of thunder, and the flash of lightning, illuminating the dark room and casting shadows black as pitch upon the walls. Though the sky outside the tower remained clear and blue.

At last, there came fire. Fire from within the void of the mirror itself, a crackling blaze that licked about the edges of the glass, as if seeking escape into the room beyond.

And then--there was a face.

Grotesque, pale green like a corpse pulled from a long repose within dark water. It was wreathed in smoke, empty eyes and mouth that gapped with the void surrounding it. When it spoke, the voice echoed as if coming up from some deep and empty chasm.

"Who is it who summons me?"

She stood as one frozen, fear and wondering warring within her as she gazed upon the face. The fire of hatred that had brought her here began to quench before the reality of this moment, this thing before her, this creature that was nothing of the mortal realm she walked and played in, but a thing infernal, with the power to shatter her to bits if it wished, and kept from doing so only by a thin plane of glass.

She no longer wished to gain her petty vengeance. She wanted to flee. Back down the winding stair, back down the corridors, back to her nursery and the sunlight and even the incipit pink and white doll. Away away away from this being she could feel in her very bones was anathema to all that was humanity.

But she could not move. Fear held her fast. And Nanny's hand on her shoulder held her faster still.

"Now then dearie, speak your name" Nanny said, in a tone that brooked no argument. "Speak your name, and ask how to gain your prize. Ye cannot but ask now."

She wet her lips, willing her voice to firmness, to the power of command she had oft heard within her mother's voice. She imagined herself as her mother, standing proud and erect. A queen no one could ever ignore, a queen worth the lives of one hundred men.

"I am" she said, "The Princess Grimhilde von Brangomar, daughter of Richilde von Brangomar, Conquer Queen of Shi-Tan."

"What wouldst thou know, o daughter of my queen? Ask, and I shall tell it thee"

She stood straight, summoning up the hatred that had brought her here, to this place, this moment. She had the sense that after this question, nothing in her life would again be the same.

"Mirror, Mirror, on the wall--how may I make my enemy fall?"

#disney #disneyverse #my art #my writing #disney villains #queen grimhilde #the evil queen #snow white and the 7 dwarfs #snow white and the seven dwarfs #snow white #disney books #disney fanfiction #villain backstory

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flame-cat · 8 months

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Part 1 / Part 2 (you are here) / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

Phil is actually doing alright, this time.

No, really.

That breakdown earlier? To be expected. He's been through a lot recently. Of course he's going to have a bit of a cry, maybe a nightmare or two. That's normal. Earned, even. But that was because he was sitting still. He forgot the most important part of maintaining mental health- movement. Activity.

This time, Phil is pacing.

He's careful not to get too mindless about it. If he slips into lethargy, lets time pass and pass and pass while he lays catatonic, he's going to break. That can't happen. He counts his steps, counts the birds, pays attention to his surroundings. He checks every corner for secret elevators or unprotected blocks. He clears away the foliage. He organizes his inventory. Once. Twice. Fiddles with his things.

(Avoids the chest and the hat and the duckie.)

Phil is doing better now. He got it all out of his system, and now he's focused. He's planning. He's plotting.

That fucking bear. That fucking bear. He's going to kill it. He's going to raze this island into nothingness. He's going to rain hellfire down on anyone that stands between him and his kids. He's going to get out of here and kill and rage and they will suffer him.

He's going to find his kids. He is. He is.

(He's failed them too much already.)

He doesn't have his photo album with him. If he did, he would be looking through it, flipping through page after page of precious memories. As it stands, he can only rely on his mind's eye for it.

(How long until he can't anymore, until the faces of his loved ones become smudged beyond recognition from time and isolation?)

He was going about it all wrong earlier. Waiting. Listening. Laying helpless and cathartic, pliant, malleable. Sitting pretty like the caged bird they want him to be, waiting for someone to come rescue him.

Phil is no damsel.

All aside, he knew when he came here it might be a trap, that something might happen to him. He was prepared for this. It's no surprise, no great loss that he's trapped now. The only downside is that he can't look for his kids right now.

But he'll get out. Hopefully on his own.

The game, he realized some time ago, isn't just to break him. That could be achieved in other ways, of course, and the federation is much too clever not to go for two birds in one stone. No, they're also trying to distract.

Just like with Forever, if everyone is preoccupied with looking for him, trying to save him, they won't be looking for the eggs. It's all smoke and mirrors.

Phil won't allow that.

If they do come for him, what will they do? The blocks are protected, the door locked with no key. It'll take ages to get him out. Time better spent looking for their children. Phil can get out on his own, and he will tell them as much- that they must leave him to his own devices and find their kids first.

(Phil is no help. Has been no help. He's already failed them. He can't be another burden, another weight on the scales balancing their fate so percariously.)

In here, Phil is safe, though bored and distraught. The kids are in danger, who knows where, terrified out of their minds and alone. The more time passes, the more likely that...

(Why is their stuff here, why is it here, why did they put it here, why why why-)

So no, should they come for him, Phil will not accept their help.

Phil is pacing.

It's impossible to tell how long he's been here. He already lost time with his breakdown earlier. Fucking scuffed. Washed, even. It could've been hours or days, he has no idea.

He has no idea how to get out.

He's tried hitting things, obviously, that's basically all he did for the first couple hours or so. Punching, kicking, ramming his body into things, tearing at the hanging plants. There are neat piles of plant matter in his inventory now. He has taken a few leaves out and torn them apart, methodically, bit by bit, and scattered them at the birds.

The birds. Will they survive in here? Will he need to kill them and eat them to live? It probably won't come to that, not for a long while, but it's worth considering that they seem to have no source of food in here.

Maybe he should feed them.

What, his gapples? Birds can't eat gapples. Phil is an exception. The only thing he will achieve is killing them faster.

The plant matter he has may help, a little. There have to be some seeds in there. He hopes that's enough.

Having a problem to solve, one with a solution at hand, is critical to maintaining his composure. The birds will keep him occupied. He rummages through his inventory, sifting carefully through the leaves and vines he has accumulated, picking apart tiny flowers in search of anything a bird might be able to eat.

They've mostly left him alone so far. At first they scattered to the corners of the room, perching in rafters and eyeing him warily with warning chirps at the others. He feels a little bad that his tantrum earlier had caused them such distress. It seems now enough time has passed that they regard him as another part of their home. Just lazily flitting by, perching on his hat or pecking at his feet. Curious and carefree.

(Still trapped. Poor things.)

Phil has not found any seeds.

He throws the little pile of greenery onto the ground and keeps pacing.

#qsmp #qsmp fanfiction #philza #q!philza #qsmp philza #philza fanfic #in the life #pheo drabbles #more stream of consciousness this time #yes im continuing this lmao #might even do a chapter 3

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disneytva · 3 months

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RUMOR: Disney Television Animation Developing Fantasy/Dungeons & Dragons Inspired Series "JOURNEY" In New Cast Call

As we approach Disney Television Animation's 40th anniversary more news on upcoming projects have been revealed, last week we saw a trademark on a upcoming series named "DOG & FROG" and last year we had news on a upcoming series named "SAM WITCH" NEON GALAXY and a The Proud Family Louder and Prouder spin-off under the name "LA FAMILIA AVENÚÑEZ"

Recently The DisInsider came across details about a project in development for Disney Television Animation, this revealed via a casting call.

The project titled JOURNEY has a description of the pilot and confirms the show will fall into the sci-fi/fantasy genre inspired by Dungeons And Dragons and Magic The Gathering

JOURNEY The main character is listed as a teenager named Journey, so immediately we know that the title is supposed to act as a double entendre. She’s described as a girl who has “always been a little right-brained, a little messy, a little ‘strange.’ Her interests include “Dungeons & Dragons” and fantasy stories. While she is often dismissed for being so enthralled by fantasy “nonsense,” her “happy place” is in ancient novels with fantastic creatures, powerful heroes, and magical worlds.

One other character description DisInsider obtained describes a male co-lead named Tunde.

TUNDE He’s also described as a teen, who is “free-spirited, fun-loving, thrill-seeker with magic skills, living a nomadic lifestyle beyond the Dome with his small crew.” Also described as “a champion of peace and love,” the grid literally likens to Bob Marley. Now, unlike Journey’s description, Tunde’s teases what the show might actually be about. Additional details in his character description show that he likes to hang with his “fellow magical outcast friends.” This tells us that Tunde is just like the characters that Journey has been reading about her whole life. While it’s pretty clear that Journey will indeed encounter the magical world in the show, it’s unclear how or to what degree.

Production on the pilot will begin this March. Seeing as how the search for the two lead voice actors is ongoing, no cast members or other talent have been revealed yet alongside the series creator and which network is going for (Disney Channel or Disney+)

This is the third Disney TVA project revealed via Disinsider via Cast Calls the other projects are SUPERSTAR (Working Title) for Disney Channel about a latina superhero living the best of three worlds (Popstar, Influencer and Superhero) and DUCKIE for Disney+ a serialized animated comedy series about a little duck with PTSD after a tragic event which took her away from her parents, now she will discover her true self with the help of a old duck.

#Journey #Disney Journey #Disney Television Animation #Disney TVA #Disney TVA Pilots #Disney Channel #Disney+#Disney Plus #Disney+ Originals #Disney Plus Originals #Disney+ Original Series #Disney Plus Original Series #Disney+ Original Animated Series #Disney Plus Original Animated Series

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duchesssoflennox · 2 months

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"The 88th Anniversary of The Heartbreaking Death of Princess Victoria Melita: A Royal Outcast Who Never Found Happiness" 🤍🖤💔

She was born with a silver spoon but died with a wooden one. She married for love but lost everything. She had a royal bloodline, but no country to call her own. She faced wars, revolutions, and exiles with bravery but succumbed to a broken heart. She was Princess Victoria Melita, and this is her story...🌟

Princess Victoria Melita (nicknamed Ducky) came to Paris on 19 December 1936. She was far from well at the time, but she had planned to go to Germany the next day to see her elder daughter Marie, Princess of Leiningen, who was expecting a child.🥹

Shortly after her arrival in Wurzburg, Ducky contracted a chill but she would not hear of postponing her visit to her daughter. The birth of her granddaughter, Matilda, was not attended by any complications, and in the middle of January they all returned to Schloss Amorbach.

By now she was steadily getting weaker, and the doctors were anxious But by an immense effort of will, she attended the christening ceremony of her new grandchild.

It taxed her strength considerably, and her condition continued to deteriorate.

She suffered a stroke, one side of her body was paralyzed, and she was unable to speak coherently. 🖤

In February, Ducky's youngest daughter Kira was summoned to Amorbach, and Cyril and Vladimir were warned that she had taken a turn for the worse. They left at once to go to her bedside.

Ducky's niece, Missy’s daughter Ileana came to join the unhappy vigil.

By the time they reached Ducky, she could only mutter occasional words which were barely intelligible. There was nothing more the doctors could do.

On the evening of 1 March they noticed a rapid weakening of the pulse.

Ducky's three sisters, Missy (Marie), Sandra (Alexandra) and Baby Bee (Beatrice) all joined the bedside vigil, praying for her to go quickly and instead being tormented at the sight of her lingering. 💔

At fifteen minutes past midnight on 2 March, she passed away...💔

No more moving account of her last days and death can be given than the description in Missy’s letter to Lady Astor (4 March):💔💔💔

The whole thing was tragic beyond imagination, a tragic end to a tragic life. She carried tragedy within her – she had tragic eyes – always – even as a little girl – But we loved her enormously, there was something mighty about her – she was our Conscience. But when he betrayed her, she did not know how to forgive, so she allowed him to murder her soul. From then onwards, her strength became her weakness, her undoing – she was too absolute, she could not overcome herself. And now she had to die, unforgiving! Her lips were sealed because of the stroke which had felled her to the ground – but although she knew we were there and the first day she found a murmur of recognition for each of us in turn, she shuddered away from his touch – Whilst we sat, in turns holding her hand, he stood like an outcast on the threshold of her door not daring to enter her room – It took 11 long days before she was released. The last five she lay in a sort of coma – and the end came Sunday morning exactly at 12¼ – suddenly it was all over, as she lay there grey, gaunt, the mask of grief . . . it was torture – but I am calm, I know it is better thus – she could not have lived as a cripple – but with their egoism, those she loved killed her. They left her too lonely, and she cried continually for three long years & nothing brought her comfort nor resignation, except occasionally her garden or her painting. She would not let us help her. Her faith in humanity was dead. I know how much both you & Waldorf tried to help her – she was deeply grateful, I know she was, only her dreadful habit of never answering made her case hopeless – In spite of our tremendous love for each other, because of her silence, I was never able to keep in touch with her, nor to really help her – There is an unbearable tragedy in it all . . .

The Edinburgh sisters wrapped Ducky's body in a long white robe, and in the coffin, Missy placed white lilacs around her head and shoulders. On 5 March, the coffin was brought to Coburg and placed in the family vault of the Dukes of Saxe-Coburg. The funeral took place the next day, with rain and snow flurries, adding to the gloom of an icy winter scene, as she was laid to rest beside her parents and brother...🌃

Ducky had left a wish that there should be no pomp and ceremony.

Afterward, Missy found it hard to leave the grave of the sister who ‘always hated being alone’...

As Meriel Buchanan would later write, the Grand Duchess Cyril died ‘a bitter, disappointed woman, whose brilliant personality had been warped by failure and frustration’. Now she was alone; but at last, the ‘passionate, often misunderstood child’, who had grown up into a bitter, disappointed woman, was at peace...

On the occasion of the 88th anniversary of the tragic death of Princess Victoria Melita, Grand Duchess Cyril💔💔💔

And the world moved on, oblivious to the tragedy that once graced its courts. 🌟

#Princess Victoria Melita #Victoria Melita of Edinburgh

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