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anadiasmount · 3 months

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promise - trent alexander arnold x reader.

quick sum: based on these two requests! best friends should always remain best friends. what happens when one has enough of the back and forth and begins to move on?

wc: 3k | masterlist | trent's masterlist

psa 🗣️: hi !! second trent fic as highly requested!! feel very proud of this one so i hope you enjoy!! did use promise by romeo santos ft usher bc i felt like it fit the plot 🤭🤍

trent watched from across the room, sipping on his whiskey observing the way you laugh and smiled at the stranger he didn’t know. he cleared his throat and scratched the his nose in annoyance as he watched you share a kiss, resting your forehead on his.

he felt a pan of jealousy override him, the feeling in his chest felt harsh and fire like seeing you with another man. everyone had their eyes on you, including the girl who sat in front of trent. you worse a sexy red dress, calling attention even from him.

how was it even possible for the two of you to be at the same place, at the same time? was it fate?

"you seem distracted. are you okay?" asked the woman in front of trent, he looked over at her giving her a fake smile, and nodded. "i'm okay, are you enjoying the food?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to make things more awkward than they already were.

he listened to what she said but his eyes kept going back to you and him. trent hated him, even without knowing him, he was angry because he got to do all the stuff that trent wished to do. he hid the bubble of frustration and anger, drowning the urge to go over and question you.

he knew it was partially his fault for letting you go, and that disappointed him even more. he pushed you away, lacked communication, and had commitment issues, when he promised so much. you deserved better and that was trent's only thought about when you were together.

you needed a man who'd be with you always and gave you love and support. trent was the opposite, always away for games, training, shoots, and interviews, he felt like he barely saw you towards the end of the day. trent felt like the relationship was one-sided to him, and he felt it was about him when with you.

even though there was no label, the feelings were clear. he loved you, and you loved him. he knew he loved you the first time he laid eyes on you, watching how you nervously struggled to say words but overall how dedicated, strong, and loving you were. you were a speaker and listener, which he admired.

you worked with kids a lot, earning your degree in education and speech development for kids. you were more than ready to settle down, but the hesitance within trent made him fear if he was truly "ready for more".

trent remembers the good and hard days, when you cuddled into his embrace and stroked his skin softly, pressing kisses all over his face, making dinner and cookies, watching re-runs of gossip girl, when trent felt most safe when he held you as you slept or said nothing and just stared into each other's eyes.

the bad days especially after a tough match, or he just didn't know how to handle things. where he didn't even spare a glance or word at you, leaving you hurt and confused. ignoring your calls or messages. shrugging your touches and words of comfort. not only did it sting you but also him.

trent quickly paid for dinner, grabbed the girls hand, and approached your table, where you sat with your legs crossed and sipped on your wine. you took a double take when you saw the familiar body approach you, feeling your skin heat up with nerves as you saw his dismounted look.

you sat up straighter, giving fabian a nervous smile before speaking up. "trent, hi," you say very monotonely, glancing at the girl who matched almost similar to trent with a grey dress. "what are you doing, y/n?" he taunted, ticking his head to the side referring to fabian. you shook your head pleading to not start a scene.

"fabian meet trent," you introduced stuttering standing up and him following your movements. the girl gave you a nasty look, wrapping her hand around trent's bicep in a protective manner, making your heart twinge with pain. "he's my-" you start.

"boyfriend. i'm her boyfriend." fabian cuts you off, coping trent's facial features in amusement, maybe even bewilderment.

"uh..." you swift your head quickly, stunned and surprised by his words. you weren't anyone's girlfriend, so it confused you why he'd say that to trent. trent's brows perked up offering an enraged smile and licked his lips. "boyfriend huh? how come i didn't know this y/n?" trent asked, releasing his arm from her and crossing them across his chest.

"trent, please not right now..." you begged, wishing you could've ignored him and pretended to be strangers again. trent easily got jealous, and you noticed it right away when you saw the irritation behind his brown eyes, jaw clenched and muscles tense. "just asking a question, y/n," trent shrugged, pursing his lips upside down nonchalantly.

"outside, now," you said dragging him out before trent could continue his games any longer, and muttering a quick 'excuse me' to fabian who sat down. you felt deceived and overall embarrassed at his actions. who was he to demand questions when he threw all of it away? get jealous and angry when he wasn't even yours?

"what do you think you're doing?"

"i don't get it. you say we're done, but here you are moved on y/n?" trent spits out. "is that why initiated us to end? because you felt the need to be away and search for other options?" he continued stepping closer to you. you scoffed and bursted out laughing.

"oh please! you can't be serious when you gave me the reason all along! you acted like a lost puppy and treated me like i was nothing. i tried, gave you my all, tried to support and be there for you and when i begged you for an ounce of attention you pulled away trent! im done with you, and us," you state feeling the knot in your throat build up as you spoke.

you try to walk away but he wraps his hand around your elbow pulling you to him. "i'm not done." you try to push him away but he refuses, bringing his hand to the back of your head and hugging your waist, your struggles coming to an end when you smell the familiar cologne and sense of home in his embrace. “i’m done with playing games y/n… i swear this time.”

“this time? or until you realize you're still afraid of commitment? i need a man trent, not a boy who will leave me when he pleases or gets scared. you proved to me who you were, and i don't want to tangle myself into that mess again…” you whisper, tears running down your cheeks as trent places small kisses on your head and below your ear.

the words let out your mouth hurt trent, feeling his insides turn and anger disappear. all he wanted to do know was never let you go, beg onto his knees if that was what it took to plead and get you back. he’d do anything.

your body felt tense and cold, wanting to be miles away from him, because you knew with trent you faced the reality of always wanting to come back. it wasn’t healthy, you gave him your all for him to push you away. “let go t…”

“i can’t not now, or ever. please i’ll do anything…”

“it’s too late, i need to move on from you or else i’m just bound to end up in the same cycle of getting hurt everytime i’m with you. It’s not fair… also what are you proving to me right now, hmm? that girl inside? who else is gonna come between us now? i can’t trust myself around you…” you let out, gripping his biceps and feeling the cool air between the space of both you as you pulled back.

you sniffled and wiped your tears away, hands smoothing the dress and tucking you hair into place as the wind had blew. trent itched to pull you closer but he saw the mess he created in front of him. why every time he pulled back was because of this, afraid of hurting you. you were right, maybe it was too late. “i’m sorry trent, but i deserve to be happy after i moved heaven and hell with you…”

“i want to be selfish y/n… it's taking everything inside me to drag you away and prove to you i have changed… that i won't walk away from you or us… i’ll say it now and repeat as long as it will take for you to be with me. i love you… i love so fucking much y/n,” he felt relief after holding in the words that tortured him every day since he left you.

he loved you endlessly. the way your eyes shimmered when you laughed or smiled. held his hand and drew shapes to get rid of the nerves. he loved the charisma and energy you carried to be a new and stronger person everyday. he loved you because at the end of the day, you were his best friend and understood him like no one else did.

you scoffed out a laugh in disbelief, yet felt the hope and rushed feelings return when you locked eyes with him. “love? you don’t what that is. the love you claim to have left when i walked away,” you say with no remore, walking back into the restuarant before trent stops you again.

"y/n please. i'm being serious, just hear me out."

"so am i trent. when i say i'm done, i'm done. this isn't going to help, if you say you're a changed man then prove that to me. but right now you're the same trent i met and left me alone constantly," you felt your heart dragged out and painted along the sidewalk.

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you bit your lip in worry and desperation as you saw another bouquet of flowers and a small card on your desk, knowing exactly who they belonged to. you sighed and opened the card, reading it word for word before tucking into your desk drawer along with the others.

"red tulips symbolizes love and lust. i love you forever y/n." - trent

he'd sent a boquest of flowers each friday, everytime expalining their meaning and cofessing his love for you over and over again. not only that but he'd send small gifts to your flat, going from food, books, jewelry, or small frames that spoke to you. you had filled your rooms with all of them, not wanting to throw them away.

you shouldn't have kept the gifts, discarding them the chance you received them. but something inside always felt an attachment to him. unable to look away or smile when you saw a small box filled with goodies. it wasn't right especially when fabian was still in the picture.

"another bouquet?" asks your coworker, looking at them from your doorway. "erm yeah," you stutter, "seems like he wants to prove a point y/n... cause it's not only flowers he's sending also small gifts," she points out. "real question is, who are you going to pick at the end of the day..."

"i don't know," you say sitting on the chair leaning back and feeling frustration building in your head. you take a sip of water, trying to ooze the nerves and listen to your coworker. "go with the one that at the end of the day will cherish and honor you forever. the one who'd do anything and everything to be aside with you. because that's a good man."

you thought about what she said all day. her words taunting and making you shiver every time you thought of it. it followed you all the way home to your flat where you looked around and saw all of trent's gifts. you chuckle disgruntled, and remove your coat, getting ready for your date with fabian.

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"this isn't working for me y/n," fabian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and clearing his throat. "i'm getting the sense either you're not ready or you're still stuck on someone from the past... and i need to know because i can't wait any longer," fabian laid the truth on the table.

words struggled to come out of your mouth, feeling defeated and overall disappointed. but fabian was right about something, struggling to move on from trent. he was all you thought about since that night at the restaurant. his pained look with tearful eyes. the way he held you along his chest begging you.

"is there someone in the past you haven't moved on from?" he asked carefully, leaning forward to where you felt your heart pump out your chest. how could you answer that without hurting him? he deserved better and here you were ruining that for him, after all along he treated you like a queen.

"fabian," you croaked giving him a small smile. that alone said enough for him, shaking his head while he tried to get rid of the wave of sadness. "you changed after that night. i don't know what he said to change your mind but if that's how you want to live your life, go for it. i'm not stopping you."

"you don't understand-"

"i don't understand? please let's be civil now y/n. you told me all this shit about him and here you are doing the same to me? you told me i made you happy, that you liked where we were headed. suddenly you're back to your old self who couldn't get over him," fabian expressed angrily and obviously hurt.

your stomach turned, reaching your hand out just for him to pull away. it felt unbearable, the misery and pain of once again losing someone in your life. the bile in your veins filled with venom, how many more would it take till you finally had your happy ever after?

"i thought you were it for me, but now i want nothing to do with you."

fabian got up from the table leaving with stained tears and embarrassment, people looking over and seeing you. you felt like you deserved it, after all you were the reason he was leaving you. with shaky hands and a heavy heart filled with sorrow, you paid and left to the only place you could think of.

"i hate you," you yelled once trent revealed the door. "i hate you so much trent," you cried out gasping for air throwing your clutch onto his sofa and facing him. "when there's finally something good in my life you go and ruin it!"

"y/n breathe... i don't understand-"

"i can't stop thinking of you or what you've said. and for that reason, i lost a man who truly deserved my time and love. i can't have or think of anyone because you're always in my head trent. i just need sanity and peace," you point to your heart, vision blurry as you feel him hold your arms.

"i feel trapped trent, under these stupid feelings i have for you. all of your flowers and gifts, messages and voicemails you leave? it drives me insane," you said sniffling as sinking further into his embrace once again. "fabian is done with me, all because i turned out to be the person who hurt me the most..."

"i didn't deserve to go through all of that. the way you treated me or never communicated what you felt? wishing an longing for your love and affection when i most needed it. even after supporting you through your tough times, promising to be with you forever? i hate it all..."

you struggle out a painful laugh, "i mean look where i am now, back into the place where all this mess started..."

trent had to hide the excitement and contentment he felt upon hearing you and fabian were done. all that mattered now was you were finally here with him, after proving to you, he was in it for all. if proving every day how much he loved and missed you took to get you back, he'd do it forever.

"no you're back home where you belong," trent corrected you, grabbing your face and frowning at your state. you looked completely hopeless and rained with energy, eyes low, and puffy lips from crying. "you're back with me. i meant what i said y/n, i'm proving to you that i want to be here for you..."

"i wake up every day hoping you text me or leave me those silly note drawings. i love you so much it hurts to see you like this because of me. i was an asshole to you then but i promise y/n, i will give you my all if that's what it takes to get to spend the rest of my life with you."

"to hear about how the kids were in your classes and what they did. to eat those amazing cinnamon cookies, to hear your laugh, to see your eyes widen when they bore into mine when we cuddle in the same bed. to be able to wake up next to you..."

"it hurts me too y/n. to see you don't love or even acknowledge what i'll do for you..." trent clamors out, still holding your face as his thumb brushes away the new fresh of tear the slid down your cheek. "i love you so much, im afraid it's too late for us and tomorrow you'll be gone."

a moment of silence passes between the two of you, hearing your ragged breaths and sniffles as you both take in the situation and what was occurring. heart beating out of each other's chest, and pulse-raising a mile high.

"it's not late..." you say with no reluctance, despite what happened trent did prove himself how much loves you. fabian couldn't ever see or read that from you, having to either ignore the signs or ask. trent knew you better than anyone else, and he knew right there and then, that hope still laid on the table. "say it... i need to hear you say it."

"its not late because i love you too trent... i think i always have and always will... i couldn't stand the fact you were with someone who wasn't me. so much needs to be changed and heard trent. i refuse for you to say all this and then go back to square one," you clarify, a sense of warmth towering over you as he smiled down at you.

"just promise me one thing hmm? that you won't give up so easily or walk away like i did. we will talk it out and solve it because i can't go through another span where you're not next to me here," trent says, tracing your lips with his thumb. "i promise trent..." you swore desperately nodding at his words.

trent closes the space, lips molding with yours as he takes a breath finally being able to kiss you. he wastes no time and pushes his tongue through your lips able to taste your sweet fondness. hands holding you tight as you completely let yourself be unrestrained and into the way he kissed you.

"i promise you y/n, this isn't bullshit. what we have is special, and i'll make sure you see that..."

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold blurb #trent alexander arnold angst #trent alexander arnold fanfiction #football fanfic #football x you #football x reader #footballer #football imagine #football one shot

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wheels-of-despair · 5 months

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I Hate Mondays Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Like his beloved Garfield, Eddie hates Mondays. Evil Woman decides to give him a reason to look forward to them. Contains: Early relationship fluff, Garfield references, Eddie being loved and adored and showered in lavish gifts like he deserves. Words: 1.3k

"Hey," you beam at your boyfriend of approximately one month as he drags his feet through the door of your first period classroom.

Eddie gives you a sleepy smile, drops his stuff on the floor, and plops himself into his chair. He crosses his arms on the desk and leans his head on them, ready to go back to sleep.

"Rough morning?" you tease.

"I hate Mondays," he mumbles through his shaggy mane.

"That's very Garfield of you," you laugh.

He turns his head toward you, so you can see half of his pretty face. "You like Garfield?"

"Doesn't everyone?" He blinks so slowly, you wonder if he's going to keep his eyes closed. "What's so bad about Mondays?"

"Early. Sleepy." The first bell rings, and he drags himself off the desk and leans back in his chair. "Start of another long week in this hell."

"I kinda like Mondays," you shrug. He narrows his eyes like you've just insulted his favorite band. "It means another week where I get to spend at least eight hours with youuu," you grin, lightly poking his cheek and hoping to come off as patronizing instead of sappy.

"Really?" The corner of his mouth twitches.

"I mean, it's probably not exactly eight hours, but if you count this, and lunch…" your finger waves through the air as if you're doing the math on an imaginary chalkboard.

"Well I feel like an asshole."

"You are," you grin. He gives you a gentle shove to the shoulder as the morning announcements begin.

One week later, you waited for him in the parking lot. He even drove slower on Monday mornings. But everyone was still accustomed to getting out of his way when he came roaring through every other day of the week, so perhaps they hadn't noticed. Students scattered, and Eddie pulled into his usual space and hauled his body out of his warm van and into the cool morning air with a groan.

"Good morning, sunshine!" you chirped. You weren't really much of a morning person yourself, but he was so grumpy and adorable, you couldn't resist messing with him. He fixed you with a deathly glare, and you brandished a freshly baked muffin at him.

"What's this?"

"I believe it's called a muffin."

"Why?"

"I don't know why. But I know this one's got blueberries in it."

His glare is ruined when he raises an eyebrow suspiciously.

"It's for you, doofus."

"Why?"

"Because I made a batch and I wanted you to have one."

A smile slowly spreads across his sleepy face. He reaches for the muffin with one hand and wraps you in a hug with his free arm. You'd bring him something every damn day if it got you one of these.

But for now, you'd stick to Mondays.

It took him a month to realize what you were doing.

"You don't have to keep buying me stuff, you know," he said shyly one day after school. He was resting between your legs, his back against your chest, in the back of his van. Sometimes you hid out here for a few minutes of alone time. He was using your knees as armrests and holding his hands out in front of him, fiddling with the black plastic spider ring you'd given him that morning. It was so small, it settled just below the nail on the tip of his finger, but he wore it all day and played with it anyway.

"I like giving you something to look forward to on Mondays." You try not to panic about making him uncomfortable. Since the muffin, you'd also given him an alien-shaped eraser, a bag of cookies, a quarter-sized bouncy ball, and his spider ring.

"I have you to look forward to on Mondays," he mumbles. His hair is hiding his face, but you know he's blushing.

"Awwwww," you coo, pushing his hair aside to give him a kiss on his burning, tomato-colored cheek. "I know you're gonna find this hard to believe, but I didn't have to blow my life savings on that."

"I know," he chuckles. "But you still don't have to."

"What if I want to?"

He doesn't answer.

"Is that okay? I mean, I'll quit if you think it's weird."

"It's not weird," he says slowly, "it's just… new."

"What, you've never had a girl shower you with random gifts before?"

"Nope."

"Does it make you feel like a kept woman?" You wrap your arms around his shoulders, and feel him chuckle.

"No."

"What if I told you," you whisper scandalously near his ear, "that I found the spider ring in the parking lot at the grocery store, on my way to drop a whole dime on the bouncy ball?"

He laughs.

"I mean, I washed it before I gave it to you, obviously. Who knows how many diseased children might've drooled on it."

You can feel him shake with silent laughter, but you're still waiting on him to tell you to stop. You're getting impatient. You knock him with your knee. "Let me nice to you, dammit!"

"Fine, fine, keep spoiling me with baked goods and priceless trinkets."

"Victory!" you shout, lifting your arms in a triumphant V.

"But I'll warn you now," he rumbles in a low voice you've often heard in Hellfire, "you keep this up, and you might never get rid of me."

"That's the goal, Munson." You wrap your arms around his shoulders again and pull him close. "Can't tell anybody I'm nice to you, though. I've got a reputation to maintain."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he says, relaxing into you and walking his fingers up your leg, making it look like the little plastic spider is being chased by the metal rings that actually fit him.

Eddie learned to love Mondays. Not just because of the gifts you gave him - which were quite badass, by the way - but because you always demanded a kiss as payment.

Sometimes it was food you'd baked or picked up on sale. (You always kept a bag of gummy worms in a secret compartment of your backpack for emergencies.) Sometimes it was something he needed, like a new pencil. (With "Corroded Coffin" carved into the wood, completed during a thrilling afternoon in detention.) Sometimes it was something fun, like one of the sticky little slappy hands from the gumball machines at the grocery store. (You two are the reason those are now banned in Hawkins High.) And sometimes, you went the hand-made route, like with the flip book of Principal Higgins and Miss Click that would probably get you both suspended if it were discovered. (It was not.)

This went on for the rest of the year.

On the last Monday before summer vacation, after all the exams had been taken and all the teachers were phoning it in, you gave Eddie what was probably his favorite Monday Gift of all.

You waited 'til the last few minutes of your last class together, asked for the bathroom pass, and came back with an envelope shoved into the waistband of your jeans, hidden under your shirt.

You pulled it out when you sat back down and handed it to him under the table, keeping your eyes to the front of the room.

You hear the paper crinkle as he opens the envelope, and then he lets out a sound somewhere between a choke and a gasp.

When you can't resist the temptation any longer, you look over at him. He's so red, you're worried his face is going to start bleeding.

Eddie "The Freak" Munson is holding a pair of warm panties in his hand, in the middle of a school day, in a Hawkins High classroom.

When the bell rings, he springs into action. He shoves them into his pocket, grabs your hand, and bolts.

Sorry, Garfield. Eddie Munson no longer agrees with you about Mondays.

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #am i happy with it? no. am i sick of looking at it? yup.

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ludaroace · 4 months

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time for more brainrot on how much i think ramon deserves the world because i FINALLY got to watch yesterdays vods and it makes me AHH

the whole conversation ramon and pac had when fit crashed ! ramon straight up asking for pac to take care of him when fit is gonna be gone for a bit in march ! like yes, ramon would have been taken care of likely by him and tubbo anyways but straight up asking ? and then immediately into the you'll need to adopt me one day and pac's response just straight up being let me get the papers from cucurucho . zero hesitation until he decided that ramon deserved a huge celebration and that was the only thing stopping him from doing it immediately .

and the difference between the way he asked - because getting taken care of is business . he could get the cookies from fit, hand them over to pac, get fed, and log off if need be . no way anyone says no to that unless they also plan on being gone . but then the adoption comment - where you can immediately tell that ramon is nervous because he writes the sign and hides behind because pac COULD say no to that and it would hurt . its no longer a matter of hey can you make sure i don't die for two weeks and now a matter of ramon putting himself out there for real ! like yeah he said things in that vein before but never as direct (towards pac at least) and the other times could be played off as a joke or trying to embarrass fit but now fit's not here so there's no fallback .

and from a viewers perspective, we know there was no way in hell pac would have said no because he adores ramon and honestly probably would have adopted him sooner if he asked . but like, in ramon's place you're a kid who's been through hell and back asking someone so important to you to officially adopt you, and he COULD say no, which not only is terrible for him, but is probably gonna make things awkward as hell between pac and fit which he doesn't want .

but he doesn't have to worry because the immediate response is yes and that he's gonna do it the proper way too and go all out because thats what ramon deserves . and in the end, i don't think ramon would have been any less happy if pac was just like ok bet you're my kid now, but knowing he's fully willing to go the extra mile is just <3 . AND THEN THE WHOLE INTERACTION ENDING WITH "obrigado pai" "de nada filho" was just PERFECT . because even if it's not official with the papers yet, its official now in every other way

anyways, i also love the way that ramon is included in the tuesday date . like in my head i already assumed he would be there (especially cuz of the lore dump pac is about to experience) but hearing them refer to it (mainly implied through the use of we and us in reference to fit and ramon) is just a little silly to me . of course their kid is showing up to the first official date, he's the one that's done literally all of the work other than asking and even THEN .

#qsmp #qsmp ramon #q!pactw #one of these days im gonna get off my ass and talk about how ramon acts extra childish around pac too because this means everything to me #pactw tag #ramon tag

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j2lx · 1 year

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Megumi Fushiguro as your boyfriend (SFW and NSFW headcanons)

Warnings: (for the SFW section) None honestly it's just soft fluffy stuff, it's mostly Gender Neutral, but implied fem bodied reader for one of the SFW headcanons (on periods =")), NSFW as stated in the title but it will be separated by a pic <3

A/n: AHHHHHH Happy Birthday Megumi my precious baby!!! I love him so so so much I don't even know what to say. He's so cool and I love all his shikigami sm I love animals I love Megumi I-

(Images do not belong to me. All credit goes to Gege Akutami, MAPPA, and everyone involved in the production of Jujutsu Kaisen)

SFW

Megumi… he's such a sweet boyfriend! He always looks out for you and makes sure that you're good as ever, both physically and mentally.

Megumi really loves baking and cooking simple dishes in his free time. He finds it really therapeutic and he does it whenever he has the time. He'll bake the cutest cookies, in the shape of hearts or bunnies, and give them to you after he's done decorating them <3

The two of you definitely have matching demon dogs slippers! You bought two pairs of slippers, one white and one black, and then gave one of each colour to Megumi. The two of you spent the whole day decorating the slippers to look just like his demon dogs and he even summoned them for reference on how some of their features looked!

You also bought him a bunny onesie as a joke for his birthday once… and he actually loved how comfortable it was! And of course he got all flustered when you started calling him "cute" and "adorable", but he secretly loves it when you say such things to him. He asked you to buy another one for yourself as well. So now, the two of you can match with your onesies and slippers 🥺❤️

Whenever you go out with Megumi, he always stands on the side of the pavement that's nearer to the road! He also holds your hand almost all the time, to show affection and to also pull you away in case of anything. His priority is always making sure that you're safe and sound 🥺

He loves it when you stay over in his dorm room for the night. Over the course of your relationship, it's become such a normal thing that Megumi's room is basically yours, and vice versa. His bed has plenty of your plush toys and his closet is half filled with your clothes, though he doesn't mind if you take his clothes to wear (he loves it but will never live it down). Spending the evening together before going to bed and cuddling is the highlight of his day and he loves being able to feel the warmth of your body next to his as he slowly falls asleep every night.

He showers with you quite often too. It's nothing sexual at all, just him helping to shampoo your hair and wash your back while you soap other parts of your body. He loves shaping your hair into random things since it always makes you giggle. He just loves to hear you laughing 🥺❤️ If you do the same to him, he'll smile before poking your nose gently in a affectionate manner.

Please please please play with his hair!!! He loves it!!! He'll relax into your touch as he lies on your lap, letting you take your hands through his silky hair, instantly feeling the stress from the day that just passed slowly dissipating. He might even fall asleep if he's tired enough, and of course, who are you to deny him a well deserved rest?

He acts indifferent, even annoyed at times, when you call him different nicknames. But deep down, he is absolutely in love with all the nicknames you give him. From "gumi" to "my little sea urchin", and even some of the silly ones like "sugar bunny", he absolutely loves hearing you say them and he just feels so loved when you use those nicknames. It makes him feel so special and important to you <3

Piggybacks with him! Whenever you're tired after training, or just not feeling super great, he'll piggyback you back to his dorm and help take care of you from there! Something about the intimacy of having you leaning on him, and knowing that he's the one supporting and carrying you that makes him feel warm on the inside, like it was always something he was yearning for and finally got.

He prefers reading non-fiction books but if you ever recommend a book to him, no matter what genre or how long it is, he always makes sure to read it so that he can share his thoughts with you. It's his way of bonding with you, talking about a book you've both read and sharing your opinions with each other.

When you're on your period, he'll take extra good care of you. From making you your favourite drinks, to reading a book to help you fall asleep more quickly, Megumi does anything he can to make you feel better and relax. If you ever have cramps, he'll be summoning his shikigami to play with you in an attempt to distract you from the pain.

He's a very prepared boyfriend, so you never have to worry about forgetting things or emergency situations. It's raining suddenly? Don't worry, he has an umbrella to share with you. It got cold despite it being hot just a while ago? He's got a jacket for you. You forgot to take your water bottle and you're thirsty? He brought his, so you can share with him!

Overall, he's super sweet and kind about everything, and he's always looking out for you! Even if he isn't the best at expressing himself and his emotions, he makes sure that you know just how much he loves you ❤️

NSFW (Gender Neutral reader) (Megumi is aged up here!!!)

Warnings: Praise kink (both giving and receiving), oral (giving and receiving), overstimulation, switch!megumi, riding him, orgasm control, edging, pet names (baby, good boy, darling)

Honestly, Megumi is quite vanilla when it comes to sex. He doesn't want to cross any boundaries and make you feel uncomfortable, so he'll be super gentle and careful with you when you first start out, unless you tell him otherwise.

He hardly initiates anything because he's worried that you aren't in the mood for it. He starts to kiss you and give you hickeys all over your neck to kinda build the atmosphere and it just… carries on from there. Before he knows it, you're straddling him and grinding on his growing bulge in his pants. And that's when he'll ask you if it's ok to continue, because consent is everything to him and he doesn't want to do something you don't want! 🥺

His favourite position is definitely missionary. He loves that he can see your expression, not just to see all your different expressions while he pleasures you, but also to make sure that you're not in any pain whatsoever. He loves that he's able to kiss your face and lips whenever he wants too!

He definitely has a praise kink. He loves telling you just how good you make him feel, just how well you're taking him, taking all of him in you, being his good little precious baby and making him feel so damn good. And if you tell him how good he feels inside of you, he will melt internally and start kissing you all over your face. He adores it when you tell him how you're just full of him, being so ruined all just for him and just how good he's making you feel <3

He doesn't mind if you offer to give him a handjob or blowjob, but he much rather go down on you and make you cum at least thrice from just his mouth alone. You'll be crying and begging for him to stop because it's just too much but he won't unless you use your safeword. He knows that you enjoy it, and he enjoys it just as much, so he won't be stopping anytime soon 😉

Loves it when you ride him! Maybe he's had a stressful day and just wants to be taken care of, or maybe he just wants you to be in control, but no matter what, when Megumi is more vulnerable and desperate than usual, he wants nothing more than for you to ride him and make him cum over and over again. It's a bonus if he's came once, twice, maybe even thrice and just as he's reaching one of his last orgasms for the night, you tell him that he can't cum yet, because good boys only cum when they're told.

And if you tell him that he gets to control your orgasm, be prepared. He'll edge for goodness knows how long, and just as you're on the verge of cumming, the kind of sensation that you can cum with just one more thrust from him, he'll pull out and kiss your forehead, telling you that you're his "pretty baby", his "wonderful darling", telling you to wait just a little longer for your high.

Aftercare with him is super important! He'll carry you to the bathroom if you're too tired or sore and run you a bath with some bath salts while he changes the bedsheets. Then he joins you in the bath and lets you lean on him and relax fully while he tells you how good you were for him, kissing the top of your head over and over again.

Megumi is a super gentle boyfriend, even in bed, and he'll never cross any of your boundaries. He loves you so so much and wants you to feel that love when you two are having sex <3

AHHHHHH this one is longer than the other two I made… oh well! I love Megumi so so much and he's so precious!!! I had lots of fun writing this and would've written more but it's really long already so… Anyways I hope you enjoyed reading and Happy Birthday once again to my dearest Megumi!

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faintedlcve · 4 months

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END OF 2023

sorry to anyone who didn't want to be tagged xx

hi! most of you will know me as lucy (unless you're @m3ntallyunstable34 and know my real name lol)

so yes, i am lucy. and this is me reflecting on 2023 on tumblr because it seems like a logical thing to do considering this year sucked like 20% less (one of us is lying reference) because of all my amazing online friends. so yes i guess in a way this is a mutual appreciation post 🫶

@berryzxx you wouldn't believe me when i tell you you were the first mutual i didn't have to be all professional and got to be a crazy bitch with lmao so thank you for not judging me and talking to me like we're besties (we totally are btw bc i said so) mwahh

@longlivestv the loml literally owe my life to you bee 🫶🫶 you are one of the main reasons i'm friends with all of the people i will mention after, so tysm and thank you for being so sweet to me and i love flirting with you /hj ilysm 💗 also if im too young to fall in love why do you keep running through my brain? 😍😍

@loserdiaz one of the very few people i get to openly talk to and not feel weird doing it akshdasjhd ilysm april <33 and youre one of the only people i will ever admit has better pick up lines than me (thats a huge honour btw) so thank you for keeping up with me and flirting with me it makes me feel very special mwahhh and ily and we should totally snuggle by the fireplace you know i made those cookies you like (sab reference) 😍🫶

@weeping-in-the-willows thank you for being the absolute SWEETEST person to me <3 ilysm and btw you were my first discord friend and i'm so honoured about that ajshdnjfe you're so nice and ily and i hope you get everything you want

@theladyinwhite13 thank you for appreciating my unhinged comments and you're one of the few people who deserve to be told that they are funnier than me (i rarely ever give anyone this honour btw so its very special) and i think you might appreciate this reference 'so what if i just wanna be a little out of my mind'

@bodybetters and @its-tortle karo and tortle my beloved <3 ilysm you're like two of the BEST mutuals ever and i was so honoured happy excited (any other positive adjective) when i realised you followed ME back?!? i was literally so ajshdnjfe i can't even put it in words you're like my favourite people on this hellsite (affectionate)

@suugarbabe ajdhhgajsgf my pookie <33 you always stand up for me and ilysm for it youre the nicest to me what did i ever do to deserve you 😭❤️

@patrophthia omg the absolute sweetestt!! youre an angel and ilysm and i hope you have the best life every <33 ilysm thank you for being so nice to me and making me feel valued asjdhajksd i love youu

@theautistmwitch omg idk how youre still sane after hearing to my traumatising jokes 😭 ilysm mwahh❤️thank you for being so sweet to meee it makes me so happy <333 can't wait to traumatise- uh i mean make you laugh even more next year!

@kurtcobainsgreencardigan ajkshdad i had the time of my life 'bullying' [insert their name] (i dont wanna get cancelled yk just in case people actually like them) with you <33 [i mean you technically didn't 'bully' them but we bonded over that] you're so funny and sweet and ily<3

@catastrxblues nadine the loml <33 i LOVED chatting with you and ranting to you and reading your answers to my asks akgdskg im so glad to have you as a mutual and i would love to have some more ranting convos with you in the future haha asdhjhajsh ilysm mwahh <3

@nyctophile-me omg you're so sweet to meee 😭😭😭 ily you're like one of my favourite wives too you're one of the only people i will ever share sab with mwah ❤️❤️ id love to talk to you more next year <3

@magicandmaybe @andi-is-bored @alltheliars and @animallover4000 omg you're all so sweet and ily and we didn't really interact a lot this year but i loved chatting with you on discord 💕

@imperpetuallylost omg ilyy you're so unintentionally (or intentionally?) funny ahsjdnfne and i guess it's inevitable sorry sky but it looks like you (lea not sky) deserve to [redacted] goosebot and it's well deserved ajsjdjdne ily and id love to interact more with you next year <33

@london-affairs literally started talking to you like 5 days ago and we were flirting non stop that's CRAZYYYY ily btw pookie 😍

@m3ntallyunstable34 my literal best friend!! i absolutely love you mwah mwah mwah thank you for being my best friend and dealing with me for 12 years llama im shocked you're not insane yet ahsjsj ilyyyy ❤️

these are the mutuals that made me throw my phone across the room and scream in excitement when i realised THEY followed ME

also i will take this moment to thank all of you for making my year amazing and i love you all so much and i hope you have THE BEST 2024. thank you so much for being a part of my crazy blog i would never have imagined 438 people would find this silly little blog 🫶

@cassiopeiasdaughter @faultsline @underthenightskydreamsneverdie @theostrophywife @slytherinslut0 @imperpetuallylost @themidnightarcher @stvrlighhttt @psychedeliccc @prettybaby-grande @nqds @themidnightarcher @i-miss-you-im-sorry @cottoncandywhispers @svnflowermoon @finalgirllx @fallingforfictionalcharacterss @ashisgreedy @moonffe @suugarbabe @wordsarelife and @xobridgertonblues (i might've tagged some people twice sorryyyy)

#moots <3 #end of 2023 #goodbye 2023 #here i come 2024 #please suck even less #luce posts 💌

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vidding · 4 months

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VidRecs.com

The first rule of the Rec Club is that you talk about VidRecs.com.

The second rule of the Rec Club is that you hit the reblog button "as hard as you can."

The third rule of the Rec Club is that if you become member you have to rec.

VidRecs.com is a fan created project one stop shop for all your vid recs. Yeah, I got the domain. The passion didn't stop there. Vid Recs deserve a better place than our selective memories and random bookmarks on the internet. "What kind of features should a site called VidRecs.com have?" Remember, you wanted this.

A spot to put a blurb about why you recced/love the vid.

A recs page to showcase both You Tube & Vimeo recs in one spot.

The ability to rec vids with just the Video URL

A way to give proper credit to the original uploader & their description.

A profile page with my avatar and cover image

A profile page with my social network links if I want others to find elsewhere.

A way to find vid recs site-wide by fandom.

Had enough? No?

If the rec is on AO3 a comment button can be added to redirect viewers to the AO3 Comment page

On request you can get your own VidRecs.com profile URL (i.e. "VidRecs.com/yourfandomname" so viewers go directly to your rec page.

Everything you rec is automatically added to an automatically generated profile playlist so viewers can view it as a playlist.

You can create playlists using both your recs and recs of any other members on site.

You can sign up using Tumblr, Discord, Google or the regular email password combo.

Still not impressed. Gee, you're a tough cookie

You can rec vids directly from You Tube or Vimeo.

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You need a video overview? There is one below.

youtube

It's nearing the end of the year. It's so easy to forget vids you've enjoyed without a reliable place not only to reference but also share them with others. This can be what you want it to be. The groundwork has been done and it's still a work in progress but a lot closer to the ideal than most. All that's missing is a whole bunch of people willing the rec things and the site. Yeah, go ahead and rec the site. 😀

Membership is currently by approval. If you would like to speed things up just contact us at [email protected]. We are working on a way to make the registration process a lot more streamlined. Enough works now about the site to begin using it and if you run into any issues let us know. Thank you! Rec often. Rec hard. Our memories can fail us, and the internet is not reliable.

Additionally, there is also a greater chance vids recced here will be archived in case something happens to them in the future, but I am sure you are ll familiar with that. Reccing can be a democratic process that raises awareness about what should be archived or at least we hope.

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Like this post and help raise awareness about stuff like this.

Invest some time to assist in any projects you find interesting and see opportunities where you can contribute.

Patron - Become a patron for as low as $1, $2, $3, or $5 a month to support this kind of work. Patreon.com/vidding. We know the AO3 Fundraising drive started today. Please consider us as another way to support vidding-related efforts. 😍💗😍💝

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pastafossa · 1 year

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🎄The Biggest Tree In All The Kitchen 🎄 (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic)

Right so despite the craziness of the plagiarist and the BIGGEST BLIZZARD MY CITY HAS EVER SEEN IN ITS HISTORY, I managed to get this done! As promised, Matt and TRT’s Reader deserve a goddamn Christmas tree, and you all deserve some fluff after the rough few chapters we’ve just hit in TRT!

Rating: SFW, some language and slight innuendo and a few kisses, but other than that, just fluff and humor and Matt being absolutely determined to get you the biggest goddamn tree he can find and Foggy’s Christmas movie/ references. Wordcount: 5,855, you are going to get FED. Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader. Specifically TRT’s reader, but the fic isn’t required reading. Just know you haven’t had a Christmas in a very long time due to Enhanced Abilities reasons.

The second Matt heard your heart skip, he made his decision.

“What do you mean, ‘it’s not a big deal?!’” Foggy bellowed, throwing his hands up as you circled the pool table for your next shot. “It’s absolutely a big deal!”

“It’s just a tree, Foggy.” You wrinkled your nose while lining up your next shot. “Ciro’s daughter was allergic, so we had a fake one. After I left at eighteen, I never saw the point of getting one if there was no one but me around. It’s not like it bothers me.”

Lie.

Matt, waiting at the bar for all of your drinks, tipped his head as he listened. Slowly, a devious plan began to form in his mind.

“I’m with Foggy. I call bullshit,” Karen laughed, her shirt rustling as if she’d just crossed her arms. “We’ve all seen you stopping at windows that had Christmas trees.”

“You look like a puppy staring up at a cookie jar,” Foggy sighed. “Tell me you and Matt are getting a tree for your first real Christmas together. I’ve seen your ceilings. You could fit a giraffe in there.”

“Or a giraffe-sized tree,” Karen snickered.

You shrugged one shoulder, eyeballing your next shot. “I figured we’d get one of those little plastic ones and put our ornaments on it. I haven’t really thought about getting a big one.”

Lie.

“I swear to God,” Foggy said grimly, “if I walk in there and see some sad little Charlie Brown plastic tree, we cannot be friends. Just admit you want a big tree.”

You took your shot, your stick sliding smoothly forward. The crack of the cueball rang out a moment later. “I admit nothing outside a court of law.”

“Or inside the court, let’s be honest,” Karen said, biting her lip. That turned into another snicker when you rolled your eyes without actually denying it.

“Swear!” Foggy demanded, jabbing a finger towards the bar where Matt stood. Matt helpfully waved. “Swear on Matthew!”

You snorted. “Foggy, I do not—”

Lie.

“—want—”

Lie.

“—a big Christmas tree.”

Huge lie.

Matt frowned.

“Besides,” you said, moving to your next shot. “All I need for Christmas is Matt and you guys. That’s all I need to be happy.”

Truth.

His lips quirked up in a little smile.

Foggy sighed. “That was sappy, even for you. Get it? Sappy? It’s because you’ve got Christmas sap inside you, I just know it. You’re one step away from dancing yourself into a Christmas movie.”

“Hey, Joe,” Matt asked, tilting his head at one of the regulars at the bar. “Do you know if those guys with the Christmas trees have set up on 43rd yet?”

“Think so,” he grunted, reaching up to scratch at his beard. “Saw them hauling their shit by earlier. Got some big fuckers this year.”

Perfect.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he hummed as he crawled up over your blanket-covered form, dropping a fond kiss here and there to the blankets as if it were your skin.

You let out a muffled grunt but didn’t otherwise stir, buried somewhere beneath the mountain of blankets. Like this, to his senses, you were a sleepy lump, only vaguely shaped like yourself, and a lump that barely moved even when he straddled your waist. Or what he thought was your waist, anyway; it was a little hard to tell, even with his senses. He’d already tried and failed to lure you out with the scent of coffee, which meant it was time for a more serious attempt.

He leaned forward to nuzzle at what felt like your head, a sleepy growl buzzing beneath him. It took him a minute to get the angle just right as he hunted for where the heat from your breath had warmed the blankets, but eventually, he managed to orient on just how you were laying. Then he veered off to the side, aiming for what he hoped was your ear, and murmured, “I know you’re awake.”

“Birds are awake,” came the muffled, grumpy reply. “The love of my life is awake. I am not awake. ‘S eight. Come back at nine when I’m open.”

He snorted, rearing up and grabbing the blankets. Before he could so much as tug, you’d burrowed in deeper. From there it became a tug of war, as he yanked and you squirmed around beneath him, the motion oddly familiar.

“You… are you rotating—” he laughed in disbelief, and you were, growling and spinning, rolling over and over again like a rotisserie chicken, winding the blankets around yourself. A moment later he lost the blankets as the edge was yanked underneath you, every last blanket on the bed now wound around you.

“Checkmate,” you said, your smugness losing some of its impact now that you were shaped like a particularly large and beloved burrito.

He shifted around until he could pick up the massive, fuzzy cocoon you’d become. Your noise of protest was muffled, but he ignored you, settling himself back against the headboard with your blanket cocoon in his arms. But that was fine; he knew exactly how to lure you out.

“I suppose we could stay in today,” he said innocently. “I may have had something planned, but it’s not important.”

The you-shaped blanket cocoon vibrated, as if mildly curious. “…Planned?

There it was. You could never resist that tone.

“Mhm.” He sighed theatrically so that you could hear him. He had you on the line. Now he just had to reel it in, very slowly. He adjusted you until your blanket-covered legs lay over his, your body tipped sideways to lay against his chest. “I thought maybe we could go out and do a little shopping.”

You grumbled, settling in as if you were determined to fall asleep again. “‘S too early. Shops are closed.”

“Not this one.” He laid his head atop yours, and with your head still covered in blankets, there was no way for you to see his grin. Still, he kept his tone innocent as you squirmed around, getting comfortable. “Besides, Foggy told me all the good trees go early.”

The rustling went still, and even beneath all the blankets, he heard your heart start to race.

“…Tree?” you said hopefully. And yet the barest edge of skepticism lingered beneath the word as if you couldn’t quite believe you’d heard him right. “Like… a real tree?”

“Real as I can find. They open at nine.” He rolled one shoulder, his smile softening. He wound his arms around you a little tighter. “I thought we could… go look for one.”

There was a long pause, and he rubbed his hand up and down the blankets over your back. He knew this was something of a sensitive topic for you—allowing yourself to do what you wanted after having been in hiding for so long, after being alone for years. But if this was something you wanted, he’d find a way to make it happen. You deserved this, after all the things you’d missed out on in your life. It wouldn’t make up for all of it, not even close, but it was a start.

And maybe… maybe it was for him, too. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a tree. Even as a kid, it was a rare thing to have enough money laying around for one. Him and his dad made do where they could, and every now and then managed to snatch up a small tree for cheap. God, those Christmases had seemed so magical, no matter how many needles fell off the patchy branches strung with paper ornaments and glittering tinsel. Funny how all that magic could drain away so quickly in a darkened alley, drain away like drying blood over cracked asphalt.

He’d lost interest in Christmas for a while, after that.

Foggy’s insistence on a dorm tree had been the first time in years he’d had one, and after that, the Nelson and Murdock office tree had been enough for him. There’d been no reason to put one up in his apartment. It wasn’t like he could see it, and he hadn’t… had anyone else who might want one. The few ornaments he’d managed to save from before his dad died hadn’t been enough of a reason to get a tree, not when it would feel… feel so empty, and remind him of just how alone he was in the world.

But now…

What would it be like to have a real Christmas, one with someone he loved, in the home that you and he had both created?

God, he wanted that with you.

“Wouldn’t the smell bother you?” you asked hesitantly, your face still hidden. The blankets, if he had to guess, had now become less of a tactic to retain warmth and more of a defense mechanism as you hunted for the catch. “Some smell really strong. Or so I heard, I haven’t, uh, really looked.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purred, “you’ll need more blankets if you want to hide a lie that big.”

You snorted, the blankets shaking as if you’d sneezed. The mountain of fabric began to shift as you squirmed around inside, and eventually, your head popped free, a ball of warmth and scent and stirred air currents. You rocked yourself around a little until you could get one arm free, too, and then you lifted your hand to cup his face. You considered him for a moment, as he leaned into your hand, pursing his lips to kiss your thumb fondly when it swept over his mouth. The taste and scent of your skin made him sigh, his eyes fluttering closed. And when you spoke, your heart beat truthful and steady. “I don’t want one if it’ll bother your senses. The tree’s not worth it if you’re miserable.”

Something in him softened at that, and he leaned in, dragging his nose against yours just for the way it made you smile before he tipped his head and pressed his lips to yours. He stayed there for a time, sighing with you as he pulled you in, his mouth working gently against yours. You stroked your thumb against his cheek, stubble rasping under your touch, tingling ripples of pleasure when you curved your fingers to gift him a little scratch with your nails. He let out the softest little moan, content as he’d ever been, warm and happy and loved here with you. “I love you, and thank you, my little burrito alleycat.”

“A burrito alleycat that loves you, too, Devil-man.” You kissed him again, short, fond kisses that made him feel slack and lazy, the usual aches and pains in his body fading beneath the warmth of your touch. You lifted your hand to scratch lightly through his hair, making him purr into your mouth. “Tree. Bothers those senses or no?”

He tilted his head to lazily kiss your wrist, before he groaned and lolled his head back into your hand when you hit a sore spot, his voice growing thick and glutted beneath your affection. “I, mm, may have called ahead and asked about some trees with gentler scents. They’ve got some that should work. Big ones, too.”

And oh, the way you drew in a slow breath, your fingers pausing in his hair. He knew, then, that even if there hadn’t been a mildly-scented tree for miles, it would have been worth it to travel farther still.

“A big tree?” you whispered, something like awe in your voice. “How big?”

“How big do you want?”

“I measured the apartment, we can fit an eighteen-foot tree in here right by the stairs, it’d have room to go up and spread out and there’d still be room for you to get your suit and also I found bulk ornaments for sale that we could use to fill it out until we have enough special ones of our own—”

“You… you measured—”

“I drew a diagram, do you want to feel it?” You lurched away from him and before he could catch you, you’d rolled yourself out of bed with a thunk and a low grunt, the blankets padding your fall. He listened in disbelief as you rolled along on your side, the blankets unwinding until at last, you were free.

Abruptly a laugh burst out of him as you scrambled up, darting out the bedroom door.

“Matt, put a shirt on!” you shouted, practically bouncing as you tore around the kitchen. “They open at nine, there might be a line!”

“I’m going to point out that you’re also still in your pajamas, sweetheart.”

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump—

You raced back into the bedroom like a tree-obsessed gazelle, and he caught you with a grin as you leapt back onto the bed with him. That grin only got wider as you kissed him, kissed his cheeks and his forehead and then his smiling mouth, your hands in his hair, affection he soaked in with a quiet sigh as you whispered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you—”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he huffed in amusement. That huff turned into a groan when you dipped to kiss along his throat, too, blatant affection along vulnerabilities that he bared only for you. He melted beneath the touch, his eyes fluttering shut, head rolling back in invitation when your warm lips passed over his pulse. “Mm, we still haven’t figured out how we’re going to get it into the apartment.”

“Trust me. I have ideas.”

“Not this one,” he said with a hum. “Smells too dry.”

“Not this one either.” You stepped back to narrow your eyes in thought. “Trunk is crooked.”

The worker had long since left you both alone to browse the tree lot. Even though you both had a short list of preferred trees, it had seemed wise to work your way from the front to the back and inspect every tree currently available, just in case there was a surprise hiding somewhere. One by one, the two of you had gone through a rigorous, solemn inspection with all the gravity given to one of Matt’s legal cases.

Too small.

Too many open spaces between the branches.

Needles smell like cat pee inside.

You hadn’t known that was something to worry about, but you trusted Matt’s judgement, just like you trusted the stinky cat face he made upon circling that tree in particular.

Neither of you were looking for perfect. Perfect didn’t exist, you knew. All you wanted was good: a large-ish, relatively-healthy tree, and one that wouldn’t make Matt’s nose itch or fill the entire apartment with prickly needles. You’d made note of a few potential trees, keeping them in mind as you approached the back of the lot. You’d seen a noble fir halfway down that had looked promising—it wasn’t all that tall at eight feet but it would still look good by the stairs. You were halfway into a turn, intending to track the tree down again when you saw it.

The one.

“Oh,” you breathed, your head tilting as you stared up.

And up.

Matt taped his cane as he stepped up beside you, his head tipped as he considered the tree with you, his brow furrowed.

“Scent level?” you asked him softly.

He twitched his nose, the tip of it red from the cold. “Not bad. It’s a white fir, I think. I can definitely smell it, but it’s not unpleasant. The scent’s a little like citrus, actually. Density? Shape?”

“I can’t see the trunk at all. Room for ornaments. Perfect triangle shape. Rot? Damage inside?”

He started a slow circle around the tree, his lips parted minutely as he tasted the air. With each step he tapped his cane a few times, his head tipped towards the tree as he listened to the way it resonated. You watched nervously, biting your lip as you waited. There had to be a problem with it, there had to be. No tree was perfect, especially not your first real tree.

Matt came back around the tree, humming as he returned to your side. “It’s fresh. One of the freshest here, I think, or it sounds like it. And it smells clean. No rot.”

You reached out to take a branch gently in your hand, and when you pulled your gloved fingers down the line of it, your hand came away clean and free of needles. Another test passed as you sighed longingly. “Oh, Matt, it’s perfect.”

You both stepped back, staring up. Or, well, you did. Matt stared in spirit, if not in body.

It was perfect.

It was also… absolutely huge.

If it wasn’t eighteen feet, it was damned close, easily one of the tallest trees in the lot. The tree easily towered over you both, thick branches reaching up towards the heavens as if it longed to achieve the same height as the trees of the steel-and-concrete forest around it. That presence was undeniable, and even bound as it was, it was wide: broad and thick, its branches as big around as your wrist, each needle a vibrant blue-green touched with silver. It was the type of tree you’d only ever seen in movies, likely meant for building lobbies.

Or…

…for a couple with really, really high ceilings thanks to roof access.

“We could fit so many ornaments on it,” you breathed.

“How big did you say the ceilings were?” Matt asked, the cock of his head making you think he was running the numbers himself.

“Technically twenty. I left two feet for space at the top,” you said absently, already envisioning just how you might decorate this tree. Which was ridiculous.

It wasn’t even your tree yet, the common sense voice in your mind said. Besides, there were smaller, more suitable trees back up the lot.

It would cost too much, the sensible part of you said, even though you’d… maybe sorta been setting aside money for a tree this size for months now.

It was too large to be practical, the logical section of your brain howled. It would be a nightmare to get inside. An absolute, full-fledged, Christmas nightmare.

But it could fit.

You could make it fit.

You would make it fit.

“I can hear your pupils dilating,” Matt chuckled, the corner of his mouth tilted up into a small smirk. That smirk grew into a full-blown grin when you poked him, and he leaned over to press his mouth to your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Is this our tree? I know you’ve been setting money aside just in case.”

You reached out longingly to pet the branches, soft needles kissing at your gloved fingertips as if to return your affection. God, even the needles were perfect, far less prickly than some of the other trees. It would make it easier for Matt to help you decorate. This tree… it was like it was made for you and him: made for your home, for his senses, for your first real Christmas since fleeing Los Angeles years ago. It had everything you wanted. It was healthy, and ready for a mountain of ornaments and tinsel and as many strings of lights as you could get your hands on.

“Do you think we can?” You bit your lip again, daring to glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “I know it’s big, and it’ll be hell getting it inside. More practical to get a smaller tree.”

“When has practicality ever stopped me?” He tipped his head, kissing your temple as you laughed, letting him wind an arm around your waist. He tapped his cane again a few times, humming thoughtfully. “It doesn’t sound like it’ll fit through our front door, but the new rooftop door’s a bit wider. If we come through that one, I think we can get it inside. We can make this work.”

“Jesus,” you breathed, staring up as he set his chin atop your head. “We’re really gonna do it. We’re gonna drag an eighteen-footer into our apartment.”

“We are.” He let out a pleased noise when you sidled in, nudging at him until he wound both arms around your waist, draping himself contentedly against your back. “There is admittedly one thing I’m not sure about.”

“What, transport?”

Matt shook his head. “I had Foggy drive over. He’s borrowing one of his family’s delivery trucks. Him and Karen should be here in about ten minutes, and they’re very excited to see what we picked out. No, the real question is…”

Oh.

“How,” you said slowly, “the fuck are we going to get this onto the roof?”

“Pi-vooooooot!” Foggy howled from one flight up.

“I understood that reference, so ha, but also: which way do we pivot?!” you wheezed, shoving at the tree. “Matt, push.”

“I am pushing,” he groaned from down near the base, his teeth grit, feet wide.

“I’m sor—” you started.

“Don’t you finish that sentence,” Matt growled, ducking his shoulder and heaving. The tree shivered and moved a half-inch. “You-you wanted… a-a big tree for our first Christmas, and we’re getting one, so help me God.”

“And he’s Catholic so he means that literally,” Foggy puffed, yanking at the ropes. The tree sympathetically moved another inch, its needles shivering as if in apology over its own size. “And he’s—gah—right, cause this’ll take an act of God to-to get it inside. Ok, I don’t know what direction you’re pivoting, but it’s the wrong pivot. Pivot the other way. Pivot.”

“You guys are doing great,” Karen said innocently. Probably because there was only room for three of you on the stairwell and she’d drawn the good straw.

Matt groaned again. “There are three other directions we can pivot, Foggy.” And yet he tried, tendons straining in his neck, his jaw clenched as you and him tried to shift the tree in a new direction. He was, admittedly, taking the majority of the tree’s weight of the three of you since he was the strongest, but he was also the only one who’d rather let the tree crush him to death than admit he couldn’t simply levitate it up the stairs through masochism and sheer stubbornness, so you got your own shoulder farther under it, taking more weight while Foggy decided where to go.

“Uh, left pivot, left pivot.”

There was a crunch as the three of you hit the wall.

“I swear to Catholic Jesus, Foggy,” you announced grimly, “if you Friends-pivot our tree into breaking, I will come up this tree at you like a rabid squirrel.”

“Merry Christmas, shitter was full!” Foggy bellowed, yanking hard enough that the tree, surprisingly, moved another inch. “Karen, how we lookin?”

“I’m going to get so many views on this,” Karen snickered, her phone aimed upwards.

“Karen!” Foggy barked, and you squawked beneath the increased weight of the tree as Foggy let go with one hand to point back down the stairs. The motion almost took you out until Matt shoved a leg out, bracing when your feet started to slide back, his face covered in sweat, teeth bared as if he were fighting someone in an alley and not the laws of physics and the equally dangerous laws of girlfriends who wanted very large Christmas trees. “Don’t you—ok, actually, send me this video later. But mechanics first! Status?”

“Right, you guys are, uh…”

“Are we almost to the landing?” you wheezed hopefully, spitting out a pine needle that had, somehow, wound up in your mouth.

Unfortunately, Matt was below you.

“I love you, too,” Matt said tiredly, the wet pine needle now stuck in his hair.

“Sorry.”

Karen cleared her throat, and you leaned your head over the railing… to meet her eye where she stood, roughly two inches below you. She gave you a weak thumbs up.

Matt groaned, leaning forward to faceplant on one of the branches.

“Right,” you said. “I have… a different plan.”

“You stole this from While You Were Sleeping, didn’t you?” Foggy said, his voice crackling through your cell’s speakerphone where you’d set it on the rooftop’s A.C. unit.

“Admitting to nothing,” you wheezed. “Just-just keep an eye on the-the tree. Right, again!”

You, Karen, and Matt all yanked.

The ropes groaned once more, drawn up taut as the three of you attempted to pull up the massive tree over the side of the building. You’d been at this for ten minutes, and managed to make it to the second story, according to Foggy. But it had taken a lot out of the three of you, even Matt. He, of course, declared that he was fine, but you’d once heard him say the same thing about a bullet wound roughly three minutes before passing out, so you took that with a container’s-worth of salt grains.

Karen growled, digging her heels in as you all huffed and puffed, Christmas spirit driving you forward like the crack of a whip. “W-when did you—ugh—say your friend was… gonna get here?”

“Not quite a friend,” you grunted, leaning back so sharply you almost rammed into Matt behind you, who was making a strange wheezing sound as he no doubt attempted to pull the entire tree up by himself despite there being two additional people. “And she just kinda—ngh—shows up if she feels like it. Fifty-fifty chance. Matt, do not tear something.”

“Can meditate—”

“No!” you bellowed, gritting your teeth as you all yanked, the rope slowly coming with you. “N-no meditating! Need your-your back healthy for ornament hanging—”

“I knew you loved me for something,” he mumbled.

“—and tree-topping—”

“And the other kind of topping,” Karen said, somehow sly despite the fact that you were all soaked in sweat and wild-eyed, smelling like pine needles and rabid determination.

“Oh my God, Karen,” you wheezed, your feet skidding on the cement.

“What? It’s true.”

“It’s fine,” Matt grunted. “She can top if my back goes.”

“Are we talking about trees or…?”

The wind picked up.

Which wasn’t that unusual. But then again, you weren’t normally all hanging onto ropes tied to an eighteen-foot hanging embodiment of all your Christmas hopes and dreams.

Just like that, the rope snapped you all forward as if a giant had taken hold and yanked. Matt crashed into you, and together, your tangled bodies took out Karen at the knees. You all tumbled forward, the rope flying free.

Oh, no you don’t.

You did not go over a decade without a fucking Christmas tree just to lose your first eighteen-footer.

You were going to have a merry fucking Christmas if it killed you.

You leapt for the rope with a snarl, and Matt, predictably sensing that, for once, he was the one with an excess of self-preservation, darted after you. You only just managed to snag the rope, throwing yourself back, your feet shoved forward to brace yourself against the edge of the rooftop. Unfortunately, while you did a lot of walking and running, you didn’t quite have the muscle to hold it. Few did.

Matt caught you a moment later, bracketing your own legs with his, his arms around you until he could grab the rope, too. And, not for the first time, you found yourself grateful for all the muscle in those massive thighs of his when he shoved his feet up against the wall, locked up with a growl, and held.

The tree lurched to a stop.

"Fuck, I love your beefy thighs," you panted. "Remind me to show them appreciation later."

He groaned, trying to lean his body back farther. "Now's not the best time—nngh—to make me think about you and my thighs, sweetheart."

“Right,” Foggy’s voice crackled. “Unless that was intentional and you tried to throw your tree down like Hans Gruber off the Nakatomi Building, I’m glad to inform you that you stopped it six inches from the ground.”

“Matt—” you panted, shoved up against Matt's chest. Karen had already caught the slack behind you both, but there wasn’t enough leverage for you both to back away. If even one of you let go… “I don’t know if we can-can make it—”

“Don’t say that!” he hissed, muscles straining, his chest heaving at your back. “I-I can save it, we need the tree, so we can have Christmas like you wanted—”

“The only thing I need for Christmas is—nngh—you, Matt.”

“Should I be filming?” Karen panted. “This is-is touching, but—”

“Really?” Matt asked you quietly. “You’d be happy… even if we—”

“I’m always happy with you.” You leaned your sweat-soaked head back against him, twisting as best you could to kiss his chin. “Tree, or no tree.”

“Jesus Christ, that was disgusting. You owe me an extra bottle for this.”

The rope suddenly tore free from your hands—

—and snapped taut as someone lifted it up and began to pull.

And it went, with all the ease of a dog being tugged along on a Sunday stroll.

“Holy shit,” Karen whispered.

“Karen, Matt,” you puffed, waving back. “This is—”

“I’m not drunk enough for introductions so don’t bother,” Jessica grunted as she walked backwards, casually winding the rope around one hand as she considered the bottle in her other hand, one you’d left by the door as an offering in hopes that she might smell what amounted to paint thinner and show up like the world’s most foul-mouthed elf. “Not my usual shit, but it’ll do.”

“Second one will be delivered to your office as promised,” you panted, still leaning back against Matt.

“Now it’s three for having to listen to that sappy display. Now unless you want that tree to fuck you into the ground, I’d get the hell away from the edge before it comes up.”

You and Matt both scrambled out of the way as the first branches appeared over the edge, and even Karen took a few steps back.

“Right, I have no idea what’s happening,” Foggy’s voice crackled. “But holy shit, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”

“Open this,” Jessica said, shoving the bottle into your hands as she walked back down the rope, hand over hand before she got to the edge. She shoved one hand over the edge, snorting once she got a good look at the tree. “Shit, you’re one of them, aren’t you? Christmas psychopath.”

You shrugged one shoulder, unscrewing the top of the bottle—God knew it wasn’t expensive enough to need a cork or have a bottle cap. “If I’m in, I’m in.”

“Go big or go home,” Matt said, his grin only barely hidden behind mock solemnity.

“Applies only to good fucks and bottles,” she snarked back, casually lifting the eighteen-foot tree in one somehow-disgusted hand, pulling it up and over the roof like one might pluck up a filthy, crusted spaghetti noodle from the floor.

Karen’s eyes were wide, and even Matt had tilted his head beside you. “Is she…?”

“She is,” Karen breathed. “Jesus. I guess that’s one way to get the tree up here.”

“Don’t count on this next year. And you owe me, even with the booze.” She grunted and tossed the massive tree down, dusting her hands off. The sap on her fingers made her scowl. “Why everyone’s obsessed with nature is beyond me.”

“Christmas nature,” you corrected. “At least it’s not the giant turtle guy. I heard he’s gone to you since I wouldn’t go down again.”

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered. “He’s been in my office three times in the past month ranting about them coming up out of the sewers.”

You handed her the bottle as she passed you by, throwing her a salute, as did Karen. “Thanks for the help.”

“Remember: two bottles, my office. Then we’re even.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Matt said, the corner of his mouth tilting up as if he already knew the response that was coming.

“Nicer to leave,” she said, waving one hand before disappearing down the stairs, leaving nothing but the tree and the scent of discount whiskey in her wake.

“She sounded lovely,” Foggy said. “And also hilarious. Can we invite her to the Nelson and Murdock Christmas party? Is the tree up there at least?”

You stared at the tree.

The tree now on the roof.

“Matt, I’d open your arms,” Karen said with a grin. “Incoming.”

Matt grinned and pivoted, throwing his arms open as you leapt up into them. He spun you both in a big circle, your laughter torn away by the wind, the first snowflakes of the day beginning to drift down. “Fuck, we did it, Matt! We got our Christmas tree!”

“If my girl wants a big tree, she gets a big tree,” he said, his grin softening to a smile when you buried your hands in his hair, dark strands dusted with white, and tipped his head up so you could kiss him warmly, safely held in his arms, and if your eyes were maybe a little wet, he wasn’t willing to say anything but, “Love you, sweetheart.”

There was a quiet click as Karen took a picture.

“Thank you,” you whispered, as his nose brushed against yours. “Thank you for giving me a real tree, Matt.”

It took time to get it inside, but once you managed, things came together perfectly. It was the perfect height, filling the open space with a mass of brilliant blue-green touched with silver, its branches stretched wide. It took you and Matt a good ten strands of lights to wrap the whole thing and at least five boxes of standard ornaments. Here and there, between them all, hung more personal touches:

Paper ornaments, carefully folded and cut by quiet memory alone.

A little penguin couple in Santa hats, flippers held tight above both script and braille that read, ‘Our First Christmas.’

And now…

“I like this one,” you murmured, hooking the final ornament onto the tree and standing back. Matt wound his arms around your waist, his head on your shoulder. “I’m glad Karen took that picture.”

“Do we look happy?” he asked you quietly. “Is it… does the tree look right?”

And you heard the unspoken:

Did I do this right?

You turned and let your gaze slide over his face. He looked… more content than he had in a long, long time. And yet there was a hint of vulnerability there, too, hidden beneath the softened glow of the Christmas lights, painted in shades of red and green and blue. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his cheek, and he turned, nuzzling in so he could kiss you back. “It’s the perfect tree,” you told him softly. “It’s bright and full of colors with all the lights and our ornaments. All our little ones look even more special. It looks like something out of a movie, or a Christmas card. It’s exactly what I wanted.”

He sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder and relaxing at last, as you lifted your hand to brush through his hair. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

“Merry Christmas, Matt. And here’s to many more, until we’re old and grey.”

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clowningaroundcanon · 5 months

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Quotes my family has said but it’s ninjago quotes

MAJOR TW FOR DARK HUMOR IN GENERAL! The quotes with these jokes have a TW but you’ve been warned

Jay: “I dunno man, moms are creatures scientists still have yet to learn all reasonings of.”

Lloyd: “I don’t see anyone else with snakes on their heads.”

Kai: “That’s because no one is as quirky and different as you.”

Lloyd: Dejected “Oh..”

Kai: “That was a compliment.”

Lloyd: “Oh!”

Jay: “Then you get a bowl the size of Mt. Everest.”

Cole: “It’s the size of your face.”

Jay: “It’s the size of your brain.”

Cole: “It’s the size of your ego.”

Jay: “Oh…”

Kai: “Don’t look in the trash can in the upstairs bathroom, there’s no evidence”

Jay: “Now I’m just gonna look in the trash can upstairs”

Goes upstairs and looks in the trash can

Jay: “No evidence huh?”

Door proceeds to shut and the sound of knuckles cracking can be heard

Jay: “Wait a second—“

Nya: “You can’t have more than half since fudge is too rich.”

Jay: “You can’t have the fudge it’s too expensive.”

Cole: “Why isn’t this a Disney movie? They sing every five minutes.”

Kai: “Cause the parents are still alive.”

A conversation while watching Rudolph the red nose reindeer

Jay: "it’s really muggy outside

Nya: if I go outside and all our mugs are on the front lawn I’m leaving you

Jay: *^proceeds to drink chocolate milk from a bowl^*"

Jay: and here’s my piggy bank

Lloyd: ooo how much moneys in there ?

Jay: none :(

Lloyd: aww… same

.. TW! Comment about weight

*Having a conversation about who’s pants were who’s*

Zane-“These are definitely yours, Cole.”

Cole-“Idk, Jay’s been putting on some weight recently.”

Jay-*Hysterical laughing* (He wasn’t being mean, it was a joke)

Zane-“This reminds me of that conversation I had with Kai.”

Jay-*More hysterical laughing*

Cole-“Zane, you might wanna get out of the house, sounds like there’s a hyena.”

Jay-*Absolutely dying from laughter*

Kai: “What, you got a problem with Salisbury steak?”

Lloyd: “Yes.”

Kai: “Understandable.”

Nya: “THATS WHAT I WAS REFERRING TO YOU OVERBAKED COOKIE”

.. TW! Mention of thr^wing up

Garmadon: “I’m winning us money.”

Lloyd: “Is it working?”

Garmadon: “Well, I won us 5 dollars.”

Lloyd: “Wow, 5 dollars, that’s enough to pay back for the lottery ticket.”

Garmadon: “…go away.”

Lloyd: “AM I WRONG?!”

Garmadon: “..I don’t like you anymore, give me back the fries.”

Lloyd: “I’ll just go and ||puke them back up||, I guess.”

Garmadon: “Our crappy state is the only state where the gas doesn’t pump itself; we suck.”

.. TW! Ch^king and threats

Kai: “I HOPE YOU TRIP ON A LEGO, SWALLOW IT, FALL INTO A DITCH WHILE CHOKING ROLL INTO THE OCEAN GET STUNG BY JELLYFISH GET EATEN BY A WHALE GET SPAT OUT LIE ON A HOT ABANDONED ISLAND AND DIE”

Jay: “I use heels cause the leg sleeves are too long.”

Cole: “..the leg sleeves?”

Jay: “Yeah.”

Cole: “YOU MEAN THE PANTS??”

.. TW! Joke about dy1ng

Lloyd: “I wanted 50 bucks for my birthday!”

Kai: “I gave you 50 bucks that you so graciously spent on icecream”

Lloyd: “WHAT BUT YOU TOLD ME TOO-“

Kai: “Happy birthday sweetheart!”

Lloyd: “If this is adult life I’d rather || d1e ||”

Zane: “Apollo’s kids are like disowning him and he’s standing there taking it being like, ‘What did I do to deserve this?’”

PIXAL: “You were a father.”

#quotes #ninjago #kai smith #jay walker #cole brookstone #zane julien #pixal borg #nya smith #lloyd garmadon #sensei garmadon #tw dark humor #tw throwing up #well it’s a mention and not actually throwing up but still

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ye-olde-sodor · 5 months

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Presenting…Dream Canon Ryan! Our fist Head Canon post for the DC au!

Ryan Gresley is a GNR Class N2 locomotive that was built in February of 1921, making him one of the oldest engines on Mallard's Mainland Correctional Facility (although he certainly doesn’t look like it!)

He's around Scott's height, making him quite the sight to those unfamiliar with his class.

He became a Preserved Engine due to his family ties to both Scott and Mallard, and because he outperformed his other siblings, making him one of the few Preserved Tank Engines in the UK.

Ryan was mostly raised by Mallard and Spencer, so he has a mix of their personalities. He's a little pompus and arrogant, but it's more adorable then irritating. He's known around the Facility for being kind but very stern with the engines (or students) there.

Students at the facility know Ryan as "The Treat Guy", as he's prone to enticing engines to listen to him by offering hot cross buns, coal, and other treats in return for good behavior. It's worked 89% of the time.

He came up with the idea of letting the Engines "play" (AKA clean the yards and organize the trains) . His logic? “If we make it seem fun, then they'll be more willing to do it :3" It's worked 99% of the time.

Everyone absolutely spoils him. Especially by Mallard and Gordon.

The poor boy is brainwashed. Thanks to Mallard, he's convinced that he's doing a good thing by "convincing" Engines to listen to him and Mallard. "What's wrong? I thought you were happy here?" "Aren't you happy here?" kinda vibes. He isn't too far gone, however, and is beginning to see through Mallard’s lies.

Ryan is pretty much confined to the Facility Railway, and hasn't seen the outside world. Because of all this sheltering, he's got a limited world view/perspective and thus can't imagine any other system other than the one he was raised to believe in. It won't be until a certain blue tank engine arrives that Ryan gets a chance to finally think about what he’s been doing.

A small secret that Ryan has is that there's an abandoned railway next to Mallard's Camp. He likes to go there to have some alone time. (And to talk to a certain blue little shit).

The Gresley's have a collection of "baby photos" of Ryan, from 1921 to current times. Has it become apparent that he's the favorite yet?

Like with Thomas, he too lost all his siblings. Unlike Thomas though, he isn’t aware that they’re all gone, but he has his suspicions.

Fun Fact! Mallard actually gifted Thomas to Ryan as "his first engine" on his birthday! Since Ryan is a Preserved Engine, he can own other engines!

He can make the :3 face and does so without realizing it.

Quotes and Phrases:

Ryan, referring to Thomas: “You mean he’s mine?!”

Thomas: “uh NO-”

Mallard: “Of course he is, my boy! :) We even painted him Purple in his sleep just for you!”

Thomas: “You did WHAT-“

Ryan: “Number 1, you go and play with the others for a bit while Mallard and I discuss some…adult things.”

Thomas: “...Mate, I’m 84.”

Thomas: “Look, I don’t have time for some rich kid to-“

Ryan: “I’m 80.”

Thomas: “I’m sorry, you’re WHAT-”

Ryan: “Address your superiors like that again and I’ll-”

Thomas: “Or You’ll what?! Take away my cookie privileges?! Put me in timeout?! I didn’t realize Mallard hired pushovers!”

Ryan: “I’ll see that you’re sent to the Scrapyards…and they’ll send me your exact weight back in Shillings.”

Thomas: …

Ryan: “You were given one last chance at life. A chance, of which, you didn’t deserve, but you were graced with one anyways. Start acting like it.”

Thomas: “Uh…yes sir.”

Ryan: “Good. Now go back to your shed. If I hear a peep from you, I’ll change my mind…don’t make me change my mind.”

Mallard: “I can’t believe you got Tho-I MEAN…Number 1 to behave! He was such a feral little beast when I brought him here! How did you-”

Ryan: “I’m…not proud of it.”

Mallard: “Well get proud of it! We’ll need whatever you did for the rest of those Sudrians! No one else is going to whip them into shape!”

Ryan: “Yes sir…”

Mallard: “Ryan, my boy, I-“

Ryan: “Stop calling me that.”

Thomas: “Here we go.”

Jinty: “Thomas, You’re not helping-“

Thomas: “Good.”

#ttte #ttte au #ttte DC au #ttte ryan #ttte headcanon

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rovingotter · 3 months

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My Wish Rewrite

Everyone under the sun has done a Wish rewrite at this point so I thought I’d try my hand at it. I’m going to try to keep both Magnifico's and Asha’s characterizations relatively intact while giving Asha a more compelling motivation, and also keep the structure fairly similar to what we got in the movie.

Note: I use he/him to refer to Star for the sake of clarity, though Star has no official pronouns.

Much of the setup is the same: Asha giving a tour, going to her interview, etc, with the major difference being that rather than Saba and his wish, the focus is on Simon. Why? Because he’s the only person we see in the movie who’s suffering some kind of negative repercussion from losing his wish (aside from just disappointment at it not being granted). And in this version it’s made clear, in the scene with all the friends gathered in the kitchen, that Simon isn’t just sleepy: he’s depressed. He’s lost interest in most things, even the cookies he used to love. Asha is troubled by this. Dahlia says something like, “I’m sure things will be back to normal once he has his wish granted.”

Gabo replies, “You mean if he ever has his wish granted.”

“Gabo…”

“You don’t really think everyone’s wish gets granted, do you? Asha, your saba is one hundred and he’s still waiting. There’s only a ceremony once every month. How many people do you think live in Rosas? Do the math.”

Asha: “Right, but…the good and worthy wishes get granted.”

“And? We don’t know what Simon’s wish is. Even he doesn’t know, now. Maybe he wants to rule the world.”

“Gabo!”

Simon: “It’s true. I don’t know. It could be something awful.”

The scene with meeting Magnifico and seeing the wishes goes much the same, but then after “At All Costs,” Asha asks for Simon’s wish to be granted. And when Magnifico is obviously disappointed that she would ask for favors when they just met, she clarifies: “Oh, I wouldn’t ask, except…since he gave up his wish, he just hasn’t been himself. He seems so…sad.”

Magnifico softens visibly. “All right. Let me take a look.”

I’m also changing Simon’s wish: he’s the one who wants to inspire people through music (or art or writing or whatever) but specifically, he wants to inspire a great change and to create a new dawn for Rosas. As Magnifico examines the wish we can see that this hunger for change is what disturbs him. He flinches back, quickly sends the wish back to the ceiling, and gives Asha the speech about how some wishes are too vague to grant: there’s no telling what could happen.

“…then can’t you just give it back?”

“Excuse me?”

“His wish. You could just give it back. Then if it’s dangerous, it could be stopped, but if not—”

“That's not how it works. The wishes stay here until they are granted. The system only works if everyone follows the same rules. That’s the only way I can keep us all safe. Look at this kingdom. I’ve drawn together people from all over the world, and they live here in harmony, wanting for nothing. Where else do you think that happens? Do you believe that’s a coincidence? I don’t just grant the good wishes. I keep the bad ones from hurting anyone.”

“But Simon is hurting now. Surely, in this case, you could make an exception—”

“If I make one exception, then everyone will start demanding their wishes back, and the whole system will crumble.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

The argument keeps escalating to the “I decide what everyone deserves” line. And this is what causes Asha to start questioning the system she’s believed in her whole life. She’s always seen Rosas as a paradise—and it is, for most. But now that same system is harming her friend and Magnifico is unwilling to rectify this due to vague fears about the potential consequences of Simon's wish.

She doesn’t get the job. Magnifico grants someone else’s wish at the ceremony. Asha’s not just sad, though: she’s pissed. When Magnifico takes the newcomers’ wishes and gives her that little smirk over his shoulder, we see her eyes narrow, we see her maintain eye contact with him until he looks away, a hint of something like confusion or regret in his expression.

That night, she talks to her family about what happened, and they urge her to trust the king’s judgment. It escalates to a furious argument and she storms out.

Asha doesn’t just wish upon a star, though. She summons Star, deliberately. How? Her dad was a philosopher, but also secretly studied magic, specifically star magic, and Asha alone knows where he kept his books of spells. Before his death, her dad also cautioned her to never to use the magic unless there’s no other choice: it’s too difficult to control, and it can have unforeseen consequences. Asha decides that desperate times call for desperate measures; she’s going to steal back Simon’s wish from the vault, using this power…which is still not a great plan, and she hasn’t even talked to Simon about this yet. But here, her recklessness is driven by anger and desperation, not a vague sense of unfairness. Her “I want” song also becomes a spellcasting song. And—somewhat to her surprise—it works.

This gives Asha more agency in her own story, but also, I think it better reflects the attempted theme of Wish: self-determination. If you’re going to write a story about the importance of people pursuing their own desires and being in charge of their own destiny rather than waiting around hoping for someone else to give them what they want, I think it’s kind of hypocritical to have the main character get a necessary power boost by essentially praying and receive divine aid because the heavens judge her to be good and worthy. Here, Asha makes the decision to cross a line for the sake of her friend.

Star is still a cute little glowing bob who doesn’t talk, and he’s still whimsical, but in this version he’s got a bit more of a mischievous edge. He’s a chaotic little gremlin. He does things that are a bit more bizarre than just giving animals and plants the power of speech: maybe he starts swapping body parts, giving a rabbit’s head to a bear and vice versa. Maybe he gives consciousness to a mushroom and it starts experiencing existential confusion ("Who am I? What am I? Why am I stuck in the ground?") and asking about its purpose, only for Star to giggle and kick his stubby little appendages in the air.

“You’re a Star” wouldn’t work in this context, since it’s too straightforwardly empowering, and in this moment, Asha is experiencing some genuine anxiety over what she’s unleashed. Maybe she can sing about that. The song is called, "What Have I Done?" Some of the animals can chime in. The mushrooms sing about their existential angst. The song wraps up, Asha decides that, now that Star is here, she’s going to go ahead with her plan, despite her many questions.

“Star. Listen to me. I need your help to…” She takes a breath. “To commit a crime.”

Star squeals in delight.

“But it’s a good crime. We’re helping my friend. We have to retrieve one of these bubbly ball things from inside a locked room in King Magnifico’s castle. Okay? Can you help me?”

Star produces a small flame.

“No, we’re not setting anything on fire.”

Star’s little face droops in sadness.

“I’m serious. No arson. Okay? Just some light breaking and entering, and then we’re done. And once King Magnifico realizes the wish is gone…well, that’s a problem for future Asha.”

Star nods in agreement and winks.

* * *

Meanwhile, King Magnifico has seen the burst of light in the sky. He’s tearing his study apart looking for answers. Amaya asks him what’s going on. And he tells her.

He recognizes that light: he’s heard of this. It’s star magic. Very powerful, very rare, and most of all, unpredictable. Such magic has brought down entire kingdoms, in the past. Who in Rosas could possibly have the knowledge to summon such a thing? Who would dare to so brazenly break his law against unauthorized sorcery? He thinks of the interview earlier. “Asha? No. No, surely not. She’s just a child.” But the suspicion has been planted.

The scene of him almost turning to the book, then being talked down by Amaya, would play out similarly. But here it parallels the scene of Asha finding and using her father’s book. Both Asha and Magnifico have flirted with a kind of Faustian bargain, but so far only Asha’s actually taken the plunge.

Asha introduces Star to her friends, including Simon. Star causes some more mayhem, including briefly transforming Dario into a donkey and Hal into a wooden marionette. (There's some Disney Easter eggs for you.) Star cures Safi's allergies and then gives them back. One of the chickens now constantly sings opera solos and cannot be stopped.

Asha promises to get Simon's wish back. He’s troubled. “Asha…I never asked for this. I don’t want you getting hurt for my sake. I don't want to cause trouble. I can wait—”

“Simon, you don’t understand. He’s never going to grant your wish. He thinks it’s dangerous. But I know that it’s not. What he’s doing—it isn’t right. Please. Let me help you.”

They argue back and forth a bit, with Simon ultimately agreeing, though still obviously nervous about the whole thing. Dahlia helps Asha get into the study, and here, Star starts setting things on fire and creating havoc…not accidentally, but because Star really likes fire. Asha manages to put the fire out and distract Star from what he’s doing (turning Magnifico’s collection of rare books into squalling, pointy-toothed purple blobs). Star then helps her get into the wish room, where she locates and retrieves Simon’s wish.

While this is happening, Magnifico—heeding Amaya’s advice to look to his people—calls the gathering, and things play out pretty similarly to how they do in the movie, with him becoming increasingly agitated when his citizens start questioning the system. He storms back into the castle, telling Amaya he’ll be with the wishes.

And here, now, we see an unexpected side to the king, who has (up to this point) always appeared as dignified and serious: to unwind, he plays with a set of toy people and does a cute little dance to his “villain song,” acting childlike and rather silly as he sings about wanting more respect, embracing his own personal chaos as an escape from the pressures of leadership…similar to the movie, but it’s more obvious that the song’s silliness is a deliberate stylistic choice. We’re seeing an aspect of himself he normally hides from people, and even from his wife. (The vibe of the song remains the same, just imagine the lyrics are better-written and reflect this theme.) At some point, Amaya comes to check on him—because she doesn’t like the way he’s been eyeing that book lately—and catches him in the midst of his goofy dance. He freezes. The music stops. They’re both embarrassed, and she makes an excuse and quickly leaves. Kind of like that scene in Spaceballs where Dark Helmet is playing with his dolls and Colonel Sandurz walks in on him.

The song resumes, the lyrics now shifting to King Magnifico being self-critical—why is he messing around with these stupid toys? There is a traitor in Rosas! A dangerous magic is afoot! He needs to Get Serious. It is at this point that he starts working himself back into a panic, with his reflections in the mirrors (which previously praised him) now chiding him, yelling at him and egging him on. He turns to the book. Like Asha, he’s now been driven to the breaking point of using a power he’s been cautioned against using. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Asha, meanwhile, has successfully stolen back Simon’s wish. She gives it to him, and we see him healed. We see the spark of life come back into his eyes. We see him smile for the very first time.

Then Magnifico bursts in, and it’s clear something has changed. He’s not acting like himself. He tells Asha that he knows what she did. In this version, see, it’s not Simon who tells Magnifico the truth about her: it’s her family. Except they didn’t even see it as a betrayal. They have total trust in Magnifico, and Asha’s been acting “strange” lately, so when the king comes to their house asking about her, they tell him about the forbidden book of star magic they found in Asha’s room, hidden beneath the bed. They’re so embarrassed and shocked that their daughter/granddaughter would experiment with such dangerous magic. Magnifico reassured them that he didn’t blame Asha—she’s just a child, after all—and that once the star was destroyed, their daughter would go back to normal. (Of course, the irony being that Magnifico’s made his own bargain with the devil at this point, and they have no idea.)

Magnifico, Asha, and Simon—who’s got his spark back now—have a heated argument. Magnifico demands that they turn over Star, and they refuse. He becomes more and more enraged as they hurl accusations at him, telling him that the entire system is rotten and they’re not going to take it anymore. When his fury reaches its peak, he growls, “You gave this to me…and I’m taking it back.” He wrenches Simon’s wish out of his chest again and crushes it…and then he gets the unexpected rush of power from the magic.

Star emerges from hiding. He grants life to a table, which goes ballistic and attacks Magnifico. They flee. Simon’s depression has returned, even worse than before. He's practically catatonic. They search for a safe place to hide him and go to Bazeema’s sanctuary (let’s just say they already know where it is—no need for them to conveniently stumble across it by chance).

Much like in the movie, Magnifico starts putting up wanted posters for Asha, he creates his wish-powered staff, Amaya stumbles across him and is horrified.

Asha and co. sing “Knowing What I Know Now.” Amaya bursts in to tell them about the forbidden magic. She asks for their help in finding a way to break its hold on her husband.

The main difference here is that when she’s introduced to Star and learns that Asha summoned him, Amaya isn’t charmed and delighted, she’s appalled that Asha’s first action was to start experimenting with a magic she didn’t understand. “If you had come to me, if I had known, I could have done something.”

We then get the story of Magnifico’s past, from Amaya: we see it on the wall in the form of shadows and light. His family was not killed by thieves or invaders, but by revolutionaries. In his homeland, there was a bloody and chaotic uprising. The rulers were overthrown, but countless ordinary people were killed as well. And it all started with a seemingly benign wish for change, with songs and poems about freedom. This is why Magnifico finds Simon’s wish so threatening and why, when he saw Star's light, he interpreted it as a threat.

Dahlia starts to defend Asha, to say that it wasn’t her fault, it was Magnifico's, but Asha speaks up—“No, Dahlia. Amaya’s right. I should have talked to you, first—to all of you—instead of taking things into my own hands. I was just so…so angry. And scared.” (Look, see, I gave her an arch. This also emphasizes the thematic parallels between her and Magnifico.) "I need to fix this. But I can’t do it alone."

Cut to Magnifico, who’s now having a conversation with his reflection—a reflection clearly meant to represent the forbidden magic and its influence. He’s rattled by his own actions, asking himself whether he went too far, but the magic shows him the horrors of his past in the mirror, reminding him of what happens when order is not maintained…though again, we see only vague shadows and light, hear distant echoes of screams. “Look at Simon as a sacrifice for the greater good,” the mirror said. “Nothing is achieved without sacrifice. You called upon me. Put your trust in me, now, and I promise—you will never feel that despair again. I will protect you…at all costs.”

Amaya and Dahlia, meanwhile, are looking through the book of forbidden magic and find the passage saying that there’s no way to break its hold. Once someone embraces it once, they commit for eternity: it’s a rule of nature. But Asha interjects: “That only means no one has found a way yet. And we have a star. Star magic is all about breaking the rules. So let’s break some rules.”

Asha and her friends infiltrate the castle to free the wishes so Magnifico can’t crush and absorb them. Amaya, meanwhile, goes looking for Magnifico, hoping she can still reason with him, but when she finds him, he says, "You're too late." He uses a blast of magic to put her to sleep.

Magnifico—who now fully under the magic’s sway—ascends to the top of the castle, absorbs all the wishes, pulls Star into his staff, and uses its power to block the sky. He hauls Asha to the top of the tower with his magic and tells her that he’s going to add her wish to the collection. When he pulls the wish from her chest, it’s an image of Asha sitting quietly with her father in the tree. His rage falters. His own wish emerges, unbidden, from his chest—the family he lost so long ago. He stuffs it back inside his chest, but the reminder of the shared loss between them pierces his armor.

His breathing speeds up. His eyes shift from green to blue, green to blue.

It is at this point we get the Reprise of “This Wish,” but this time, Amaya (who reappears at the last minute, having woken from her sleep) is the one spearheading it, and they’re singing to break the magic’s hold, using the combined power of their wishes. The staff glows, Star and the wishes burst free.

In a spasm of panic and horror, Magnifico throws himself off the tower. Asha cries out to Star to save him. Star shoots straight into Magnifico’s chest and slows his fall, and he drifts down like a leaf, landing in the midst of his people. There’s a burst of green and gold shimmers from within him, spreading outward, mingling and then winking out like fireflies. The forbidden magic’s hold is broken, but the cost—as he soon finds—is that he can no longer use magic at all. He’s powerless. He stares at his hands and laughs until he weeps. Amaya comforts him and gives him one of the toy people she found in his study.

The freed wishes return to their owners…including Simon’s now-restored wish, which has become a self-fulfilling prophecy, having inspired Asha to bring great change to the land. And Simon finds to his surprise that his wish, too, has changed: he no longer wants to be a revolutionary, but a healer. Star returns just long enough to say goodbye.

There’s no magic wand. Some of the animals can still talk, the mushrooms are still questioning their existence, but Rosas can no longer rely on magic: its gods have departed, and the people are left with themselves and their own choices, their own fragile wills and hearts.

#wish 2023 #disney wish #king magnifico #princess asha

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poniesart · 1 year

Text

sooo i redesigned a lot of my childhood warrior cats ocs... some of them I totally forgot about until I raided an old page of mine LOL. I could have kept their original bright colors and designs, but I liked the challenge of finding colorways and cat shapes/breeds that are more plausible than what I depicted in my art from age 9 to 12 :]

the childhood art that I referenced for the redesign is below the cut with associated rambling, mostly in order of the above characters, if you want to know what I drew as a kid haha

This is Cherryfur/Cherryfrost, who I made a Siberian cat. In the redesign, I tried to hint at her old pink very lightly in her stripes. I also made her and heartmelt/roseheart siblings, since they were both once pink :)

This is Bloodmask, who I renamed Russetmask. I figured russet was as close to blood-colored as a real cat would get, lol. I'm not sure how plausible a mask pattern is on a russet cat, but what's warrior cats without a little implausibility? His original character was very edgy, so I tried to translate that outlandishness into a more realistic characteristic - I made him a feral cat turned deputy, which seems like a social no-no.

This is Shreddedstar. She was the leader of "BeastClan", a clan I made which was the home for a Warriors RPG group I hosted. Years later I deleted that group in a fit of embarrassment and now I HATE that I did that, because I had some nice memories from there! In the redesign, I didn't keep the Clan's trait of wearing animal pelts and teeth, because honestly I did not feel like looking for reference and making it make sense. I renamed her Foxstar, after her orange pelt, and I also gave her markings because apparently pure orange cats don't exist. She's an American Bobtail.

This is the oldest digital art I think I have. And Nightscar is the oldest warrior cat OC I have! He was renamed Nightbird because I don't think Foxstar would be so mean as to make his warrior name a comment on his scars. I made him an Oriental Shorthair.

I forgot about these two until I found this art. Idk if they were for anything or if I ever drew them again, but I pulled them out of retirement. I renamed Whispersong (left) to Whisperthroat and Jadestorm (right) to Lichenbark, to reference her former green design. I also changed their whole backstory... idk why but at ~10 years old all my cats had dead parents and were traumatized about it in some way. I think that was my childhood brain's concept of a character idea.

This girl is Heartmelt, who was another BeastClan character! I renamed her Roseheart and made her sisters with Cherryfrost - she's a Siberian like her sister. in the name of realism I sadly got rid of her pinkness and hearts. But, I left her a heart on her chest :]

Last but not least is the unfortunately named "Painfulshadow". I renamed him Slateshade and tried to keep a little indication of his wings in his patterning :) he's a domestic shorthair classic tabby.

Thanks for coming to my TEDtalk! if you read the wall of text, here's a well-deserved cookie!🍪

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togglesbloggle · 1 year

Text

Free Will is a Value Statement

When I was a kid, we had a dog. It didn’t go well.

This particular dog- one of several in my childhood, and the only time it went awry- loved us very much, and we loved him too. But when it came to strangers, he was very aggressive, and very dangerous, and not fully under our control. We’d have to lock him up when there were visitors to the house, and even then it was less ‘barking’ and more ‘baying of hounds’, and unlike some animals he didn’t suddenly turn nice when he was in the same room with them. And he was large, much too large for this to be safe. Things came to a head when my mom was taking him for a walk and he started threatening a small kid playing in their own yard, and she came back terrified that if he ever got out, somebody would be badly hurt.

I remember quite clearly the conversation where my parents told me we couldn’t keep him. They’d made the unfortunate choice to feed me cookies at the same time, to make the bad news go down easier; the net result is that there’s a specific brand of cookies that, to this day, I still can’t eat. They just turn to ashes in my mouth.

(The good news is that, against all odds, it seems the ‘farm upstate’ that they sent him to was actually real. They literally saved the receipts, so that when I got old enough to realize what that kind of story usually meant, they could give me proof that they hadn’t lied. He did live what I believe to be a happy life in what was, more or less, a wild animal sanctuary. Not all dangerous animals are so lucky, but sometimes, they are.)

The reason to dredge this up is to notice how unthinkable it was for any of us to call him ‘evil.’ Even when he was straining at the leash as hard as he could snarling and growling at a three year old, he wasn’t evil. ‘Dangerous’, yes. ‘Violent’, certainly. But not that, not ever.

And that’s how it works, right? We recoil at using the E-word for pets, young children, anyone that’s enough weaker than we are. Evil-as-an-adjective is for peers and superiors, things which present a genuine threat to us. You can watch this change for the natural world in real time- us moderns watch nature documentaries about predators avidly, and not as horror films, but our received culture still has ancient fairy tales about the ‘big bad wolf’ that date from before our conquest of Earth’s ecosystems. What a difference a little power makes! What was once a real and imminent fear, and a central figure in the atlas of evil, has withered away to a narrative archetype with no material referent, while the wolves themselves become objects of admiration and wonder, or a focus of conservation efforts, in direct proportion to our own sense of security against them.

And maybe you’re not the sort of person who thinks about evil much at all, which is honestly a pretty good strategy most of the time. It can often obstruct thinking more often than it clarifies. But even if you don’t, I’ll bet you still think about ‘justice’ a fair bit- and that follows the same rules, for about the same reasons. The punitive and remunerative kinds of justice, anyway. Was it some kind of punishment, to have that part of my family broken away when I was a child? Was my dog’s loss and confusion something he deserved? Of course not. It was just- disharmony, I suppose. We couldn’t find a way to put the world right, and so we suffered instead.

And yet when we reach a certain level of direct personal injury or threat of injury, especially by human causes- political enemies, alien people, angry mobs- then, almost without fail, we find ourselves reaching for this idea of justice. (And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?) Show me, anywhere in the world, where a person has in all sincerity called for justice- and I’ll show you someone who feels weak.

Now, I can point at sentences like ‘my dog was not evil,’ and it should be pretty clear that I’m making a value statement, rather than expressing mundane factual belief in the same mold as ‘grass is green.’ That is, I’m not disputing any mechanism of action, or trying to explain why events occurred as they did. I’m not giving you information you could use to prevent this from happening to you too, much as I hope you can. I’m telling you how I feel, about what I want, about who I am. I’m telling you about my grief.

Loosely speaking, you can imagine beliefs falling along a spectrum. Don’t take this typology too seriously, it’s just a useful distinction to make for present purposes. The first extreme of our spectrum is just the observational set of beliefs- the ‘sky is blue, grass is green’ category. These are especially good for making plans that work, since they model a system that we usually want to work with in some capacity. If you don’t want to fall off a cliff, it helps to have a good map. The second type is imperatives or value statements, beliefs about how to direct our efforts. ‘Murder is bad’ is a belief like any other, but instead of telling us how to accomplish a goal, it tells us what goals we ought to have and what ends we should work towards. (Moral realists will think of this second category as being a subset of the first; that’s perfectly reasonable but orthogonal to my point.). Both types of belief are absolutely necessary for acting in the world: the means and the end, if you like.

Here’s where I reveal my thesis: When, honestly, was the last time you used the concept of free will to make a plan?

“People have free will” sure feels like a factual belief, from the inside. It’s a description of who we are, right? Like saying we usually have two legs, like saying the Earth goes around the Sun? Only… it isn’t doing any of the things I do with factual beliefs. It doesn’t make predictions, it doesn’t expand my capacity to act on the world. If anything, ‘free will’ as a concept has a weird twisty negative definition (often something like ‘nonrandom indeterminacy’) that resists analysis of the reductive kind we usually use for this sort of thing.

And if we look at how it’s positioned in the grand constellations of human thought, it’s awkwardly conjoined with a lot of the other things I’ve been talking about here. Good, evil, justice. I use my belief in free will a lot when I’m talking about culpability or praiseworthiness, when I’m deciding what to act towards, when to cheer and when to boo.

I use it when I’m feeling weak.

Or, less personally, think about where ‘free will’ crops up in our court system. And it does, in more than a few guises. For example, altered states that compromise our volition are taken into account, and might even qualify as fully mitigating circumstances that tell the court not to punish the transgression. (“I was not negligent on that construction site, your honor, I’m a diabetic and I was having a blood sugar crash.”) In other cases, such as in murder charges, malice aforethought or planning the crime carefully might upgrade the sentence to be more harsh, whereas a crime ‘of passion’ might net fewer years in prison. (First-degree versus second-degree murder.) What all of these have in common, notably, is in assessments of culpability, relevant to the question of how strongly the community wants to punish or condemn the situation. But when it comes to the presentation of evidence, the chain of material observations that we use to establish confidence in the story of ‘what happened’, we invoke ‘motive’ instead- that is, we ask what benefits, inducements, insults, or other circumstances might have led the defendant to commit the act. “Your honor, the accused is ordained with free will and is capable of choice,” is, notably, not considered sufficient to establish motive- but “your honor, the defendant was listed in the victim’s will as a primary recipient, and they were seen to have a large argument two days before the murder,” very much is. Interesting discrepancy, no? When we ask whether we should condemn others or show mercy, we care deeply about the defendant’s capacity to exercise free choice. But when we ask material questions about what happened, trying to get a clear picture of the world as it is, we instead ask where the defendant is positioned in a causal web of material and social circumstances.

It’s hard, really hard, to reliably tell when our beliefs are about facts, describing things other than ourselves, and when they’re doing something else, paying rent in other ways. But I notice, when I was a little kid crying in the car, I never once asked whether any of this was my dog’s fault. It’s not that I didn’t know whether he had free will or not; it’s that it didn’t occur to me to ask. I asked if it was my fault, certainly. I’m sure my parents did too. But we never asked if it was his, whether he’d decided to be this way. That’s just not what ‘free will’ as a concept was for.

So, am I saying there’s “no such thing as free will” in the sense that I’m saying humans are fully deterministic and mechanistic? Nah, not really. To reiterate: I’m not saying that I have any confidence whatsoever that humans are deterministic, mechanical agents. I think there’s plenty of room for consciousness to complicate the story of causality in ways I can’t anticipate; there’s every chance that human brains aren’t just billiard balls bouncing around in a universe running on linear algebra or whatever. But I don’t think that ‘free will’ as currently discussed is in any sense an alternative to that model, either. What I’m trying to say is that ‘free will’ isn’t really a claim about what the world is like at all.

The opposite of a belief in free will isn’t ‘I assert humans are chemical robots governed by deterministic electrochemical reactions’. Instead, the opposite is ‘I am not angry at you for hurting me.’ Free will is a value statement.

Remember that ‘rate my dog’ parody account, and the central joke was that all the dogs got scores of like 12/10 or whatever? And the punchline to it all, when somebody tried to call them out on the uselessness of a rating system that always stayed maxed out: “They’re good dogs, Brent.” If I were at a high enough perch- strong enough, wise enough, safe enough- then that same optimism, I think, is the only part of my need for justice that would survive. True power doesn’t rank humans from best to worst, or spend time blaming us for outcomes that cause suffering to ourselves or to others. It doesn’t need to.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

Note

Assistant Peter or Best Friend's Ex Bucky?

Everybody Talks

Warnings: unwanted touches, suggestions of more.

Please send in feedback if so inclined. Thank you all 💜

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

"Rough night?" Peter sets down a steaming mug of coffee, the aroma drawing a sigh from your lungs.

You look up from your mindless scrolling and hide a yawn behind your hand. He smiles as he slides the cup closer and takes a step back, a portfolio under his arm. His youth irritates you as much as it piques your envy. He's always so chipper.

"Here you go, boss," he puts the leather folder on the other side of your desk, "this is the mock-up for the Winter spread."

"Mmm," you nod but make no move to take the folder, instead opting for the blonde roast with a touch of oat milk. He always gets it exactly right. "Thanks. Again, boss seems a bit... heavy."

"Sorry, habit," he shrugs and you notice the line of his shoulders, the way the line of his throat leads down below his collar, a hint at the broad chest that makes his buttons strain, "my old job was super strict."

"And we're not," you challenge, "Parker, you've worked here two years."

"It's gone fast, what can I say? And I still can't believe how lucky I am to have the best boss in the world."

"Calm down, you'll get a stellar reference you click on outlook and nearly purr as you have your first sip, "what is this?"

You look at the cup and give it a sniff.

"They had a new flavour in the lounge, sugar cookie."

"Ah."

"I know it's not the usual but we all deserve a treat from time to time."

"No problem, it's good," you set the cup down and rub your cheek as you cradle your chin in your hand, "thanks, Parker. You can get back to it."

He hesitates, lingering, "you sure you don't need anything else?"

"You know I didn't hire you to be my coffee jockey, you got enough on your plate."

"Yes, bo--" he stops himself and uses your name instead, "you know where to find me."

"Sure do," you say as your phone screen lights up and draws your attention. Another call from your husband. He can wait. Or rot for all you care.

❤️‍🔥

"Norman, I don't care-- No, no, I'm not one of your cronies. Or your son. Don't start that with me," you huff into the speaker, your screen saver bouncing against the walls of your monitor, "we talked about this already. You want to go, go. It will be alone. You've known about Paris all year. I can't miss it."

"Darling, you really are intractable. It's an anniversary gift and again, you want to work--"

"Yes, I do. It's my job. It's the same thing every year, Norman," you snap, "and don't begin to lecture me on work trips and family obligations, alright? How many nights have I slept alone while you're out schmoozing your business partners or late at the lab. If you want to talk about this, call Dr. Suzanne and I'll be happy to have her advise."

"Ugh, I do love your fire, dear, but it burns hot," he snarls.

"Oh shut up." You hang up and toss your phone on your desk and lean back in your chair with a growl. You don't know why you don't just go to the lawyer already. Well, you know, the same excuse as always. You're too busy.

You shake your head and roll forward, swiping away the idle screen and setting back to your itinerary. Before Norman, you weren't like this. You liked being home but he made work your only escape. It was an easy excuse not to be entirely alone.

❤️‍🔥

You're barely away as you slowly flip through the pages of the portfolio. The blue-tinted lighting of the editorial is lackluster. You don't recall giving Seasonal Affective Disorder as a theme. You scribble in your notebook and chew the end of the pen. You really don't want to have a whole new shoot but some of these photos are lit like shit.

There's a gentle knock and you lurch back in your chair. Most of the office is gone by now.

"Come in," you call over your desk as you rest your fingertips on the glossy page.

A bouquet of flowers enters. For a moment you don't notice the body on the other side. Peter holds the huge basket of petals in his arms as he angles through, his reddish hair barely visible over the top. He puts them down on the round table by the window.

"These came for you," he says as he faces you, giving a sniff to his shirt, "they smell nice."

"I can only imagine who sent them," you grumble, Norman's oldest trick. You're well past him buying forgiveness. "If it wasn't such a hassle, I'd have you dump them in the bin."

"If that's what you want--"

"Parker, no," you scoff, "what are you still doing here."

"I got a bit carried away planning for Paris. I didn't go last year so... I'm kinda excited."

"Yeah, I... guess I take it for granted," you roll the pen between your fingers and put it down, "you need to go."

"And what about you?" He counters.

"I'm headed out," you say as you close the portfolio, "promise."

He nods, his brown eyes warm and placid as he watches you stand. You give an awkward smile as your knee gives a pop. You're really starting to feel the long work days. He looks down, you assume because of the noise and you do too. Your wrap skirt exposes more than your knee but the top of your sheer stocking. You fix it quickly.

"Uh," his throat bobs, "yeah, I'll get going, boss."

You want to correct him but you're too embarrassed. You wait for him to go before you give yourself a thorough lookover. Everything else is exactly where it belongs. Great, just the young assistant seeing the grumpy old lady's thigh, no big deal.

🤛

It's rainy in Paris.

It hardly matters to Peter as you cross the airport with bags in tow and he babbles on about all the things he's read about. Lindy delayed her flight at the last moment and Howard always came early and left sooner. You try to be patient, try to remember when you were an intern in New York for the first time, but you're drawn thin. Norman didn't even say goodbye.

You get a taxi and give the Hotel's name. It's more expensive so the driver needs no direction. You tip him and Peter follows you out. He follows you up to the grand archway entrance and gives a noise of awe as you cross the lobby. You decide to give him Lindy's suite since she won't be there.

He gleefully takes his keycard and you check your phone. Yep, nothing. Norman's past hounding you. You're as infuriated as you are relieved.

"Here," Peter grabs your suitcase before you can, "I got it."

"They have bellboys--"

"I'm stronger," he winks as he wheels ahead of you, "this way, mademoiselle."

You could laugh at his little act. You trail behind him to the elevator and he lets you in ahead of him. The ascent has you slightly dizzy and you step off thankfully. You check your keycard and point him in the right direction.

You thank him, almost reaching for a bill from your wallet to give him, and catch yourself.

"Anything else?" He asks as he rolls your suitcase to stand against the wall.

"No, Parker, that's fine. Thank you."

"Peter," he says, "two years and you still call me Parker."

"I'm... sorry," you say softly, realising how you reproached him for simply calling you boss. "P- Peter, if I've been rude these last few weeks, I apologise. I've had a lot going on and it's not an excuse to take it out on you."

"Rude? No, like I said, best boss I've ever had."

You nod and let out a sigh, "well, I'll... see you tomorrow morning."

"Bright and early, mademoiselle," he grins, "have a good one."

He spins on his heel and strides out lightly. You close the door behind him and groan as it clicks, the hours in a plane seat twinge in your hips. You have to try to enjoy this trip, if only to spite Norman.

❤️‍🔥

"You can have Lindy's seat," you say as you lead Peter amid the crowds, "wouldn't look good to have an empty seat with our name on it. Especially in the front-- Maria!" You interrupt yourself as you great the silver-haired designer, "so wonderful to see you again. Thank you so much for the gift basket."

"Thank you for the editorial," she says in her lilted baritone, "oh my, have we traded in the old model?"

She tweaks a brow in Peter's direction and his cheeks redden as you peek over at him. You give a soft laugh, not enough to embarrass him.

"This is my assistant, Peter Parker. He's a photographer as well."

"Peter Parker," Maria drawls out, "what an... American name."

"I do happen to be American," Peter says dumbly.

"How absolutely adorable, I could spoon him up and eat him with a nice sorbet."

"Uhhh," Peter gives a squint.

"Don't let us keep you," you gently touch Maria's elbow, "we should find our seats."

She passes on as another voice calls out her name. You continue on to the crowded runway and edge along the front row. You sit and smooth your skirt, a vintage designer piece chosen deliberately for the event. An editor-in-chief can't look a mess even if they feel one. Peter looks good enough in a Gucci button up and slacks, hair tidy enough to seem as if he belongs. You can't help but notice the Louis Vuitton loafers.

"Are those new?" You ask.

"Oh, uh, have a friend who tends to hoard nice things," he shrugs, "and that dress?"

"Not new," you assure him.

"Still, it looks good."

"Comes with the territory. Everyone's here competing and in the front row, the press will be sure to get a couple snaps."

"Wow, is that Shaq?" He looks across the aisle, "I didn't think he'd be into fashion."

"Like I said, people come to be seen and they are seen," you say.

"Oh, right," he looks around and his eyes round. There's already a long lens aimed in your direction, "it hasn't even started yet."

"Yeah, there's really no start or end, it just happens," you say, "last year wasn't particularly great for us. Howard got a bit... tipsy so he's skipping it this year."

"Ah," he nods and smooths his shirt. You try not to pay attention as the fabric draws taut over his chest.

Another guest claims the chair next to you and you greet them, another editor, and settle in as seats begin to feel. The anticipation builds until the room grows dim. The runway lights up with shades of rose. The crowd quiets and Maria comes out to introduce her collection.

As the first model comes back, you make sure to keep your posture straight. You've done this enough times to be aware of every tick and move you make. You have a magazine to represent and right now, it's the only thing going right in your life. You watch the designs and give a thought arch of your brow, the colors are interesting but the cut doesn't quite fit.

You feel a tickle on your leg but keep your focus on the runway. Then the warmth spread across your leg and squeezes you through your skirt. You flick your lashes in shock as Peter leans over as he feels your thigh, "I like the colours..."

"What are you doing?" You withhold your chagrin as you move your lips subtly, focusing on keeping your composure.

"Just wanted to get your attention..." he whispers, "and the press. Imagine what they'll say."

"Peter, get your hand off me." You warn under your breath.

"It'll definitely piss Norman off, won't it?" He snickers as he leans even closer, retracting his hand, only to drape his arm over your shoulders, "an editor-in-chief with a younger man, too? The scandal."

"Parker--"

"This isn't appropriate."

"Don't worry, boss," he brushes his nose along your cheek, "it's not all for the press. I really am going to fuck you."

#peter perker #peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #drabble #ask drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #mcu #marvel #spider man #avengers

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rosietrace · 2 months

Note

Waddles in with cookies

C- Can I have a Mel x Victoria fic pretty please? I don't got a lot of ideas but I think Vic deserves to be spoiled and loved.

OFCCC POOKIE BEAR (I'm so sorry this took so long 😭 Happy belated birthday, Mel!!)

Sweetness

(Central) Characters Featured: Victoria Shard, Melanie Charmant

↳ { Melanie belongs to @/twsted-princess }

Others mentioned/featured: Zenith Devi, Sumeragi Yuuta

Pairing: Victoria Shard & Melanie Charmant

Event: Valentine's Day 2024 💌

↳ Type: Requested Oneshot! 「 Fluff w/ Slight Angst 」

Synopsis: Sugary sweets such as chocolate chip cookies always make anyone's day, surely it would work on her, too?

Warning(s): Implied one-sided/unrequited love if you squint, like- One vague reference to a specific WIP, generally fluffy, potentially ooc

[ Apologies for any out of character moments ]

[ Reblogs > Likes ]

†•°•══════ஓ๑「♢」๑ஓ══════•°•†

“And then I found another letter… How peculiar.”

Zen giggled, circling Victoria as they walked the halls of Night Raven. “Whoever this secret admirer is, Tori, they sure seem to admire you!”

Victoria sighed, a soft smile on her lips. “Now, let's not make any assumptions, Zen,” she dismissed, bringing another piece of chocolate into her mouth. “Although I will say their taste in chocolate is impeccable.”

Zen could only snicker, endeared by his best friend's fondness for sweets.

“Well, whoever they are, they're definitely treating you right!”

“Perhaps, so.”

“Don't you ever wish you could meet them eventually?...”

Victoria thought about that possibility for a quick moment, sitting down against the tree in the main courtyard.

“I haven't thought much of it, really. However, if I do somehow meet them-”

Anything else Victoria was going to say after that had to be cut short, as a familiar face came their way.

Melanie Charmant was a perplexing topic of conversation — at least, in the eyes of Victoria Shard. Zen didn't think much of Melanie, not much to be said, simply saying she was ‘nice’.

“Zen!” Melanie sighed with relief, panting so heavily she looked like she had run a marathon. “Thank God I found you…”

“Aww, did little Miss Charmant miss me?” Zen chuckled, standing up from beside Victoria to stand beside Melanie, using his magic to give Melanie a bit of a ‘cooldown’.

“You look rather parched,” Victoria pointed out once she finished chewing on her chocolate. “Are you alright?”

Melanie felt her face heat up, taking a step back and almost stumbling.

It was obvious to everyone — perhaps even to Victoria — that Melanie may or may not fancy the ice queen of Pomefiore.

That, at least, made Zen pity her. Poor girl was so obvious she almost fell to the ground at the realization Victoria was there the entire time.

“S-Sorry, Victoria! I… I didn't notice you were there,” Melanie laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck with an equally awkward smile.

Victoria hummed, rather puzzled by Melanie's behavior. “It's fine.”

“Ahahaha- Anyways! Mel,” Zen turned to Melanie with an enthusiastic grin. Perhaps a bit too enthusiastic.

“Do you need anything?”

“Uh- Well…” Melanie's stiff little smile remained, feeling quite discomforted by the fact Victoria was listening.

For obvious reasons, it was clear that Zen understood her stiffness. Victoria seemed to take her nervousness as a memo to give her and Zen their privacy, and promptly stood up.

“I'll leave you two to your own devices.”

Zen pouted. “Aw man, really?”

“I have a lot on my schedule today, Zen.”

“Can't you stay a couple more minutes longer?”

“As much as I'd love to, I have a busy work schedule, Zen.”

Zen chortled. “Does that work schedule consist of you trying to outdo a certain housewarden?”

Victoria's eyes narrowed, and she only gave Zen's forehead a brief poke. “Not the point.”

He chuckled. “Fine,” he embraced her. Melanie noted that Zen was akin to a koala with the way he clung to Victoria.

Amused beyond belief, Victoria gently gave him a pat on the head, returning his embrace with a soft smile.

Melanie found herself getting even more flustered when her gaze flickered to Victoria's smile. She always looks so pretty when she smiles…

Victoria bid Melanie and Zen farewell before walking away with a black box of chocolate in tow.

Melanie drew out a breath, eyes softening further as her crush walked away without another word.

Her attention soon shifted back to Zen when the latter clapped his hands to grab her attention. Well, at the very least, he was successful.

“So! Mel,” he placed his hands on his hips with an encouraging smile, “what can I do for you?”

“Huh-? O-Oh, right!” Melanie composed herself, clearing her throat and putting her hands behind her back. “I've been.. Wanting to ask you something about Victoria?”

Zen's eyebrows shot up. “Tori?” He cocked his head to the side. “Well, I mean I could, but she was just here earlier, why didn't you ask her then?”

Melanie frowned, looking down. She knew that Zen knew why, that he was just trying to be nice by pretending not to know the most obvious crush in Night Raven College.

Hesitating for a moment, Melanie fiddled with her hands behind her back, trying to find the right words to use.

“I was thinking… Does Victoria like sweets?”

Zen laughed. “Of course! Y'know, a lot of people don't know this, but her sweet tooth is actually insane,” he wrapped an arm around Melanie. “She has a whole pantry in her room, it's wild.”

“Huh,” Melanie was pleasantly surprised by this new piece of information. “Does she like chocolate in general, or…?”

“All kinds,” Zen answered swiftly. “However, if you ask me, she's the most fond of milk chocolate. Especially milk chocolate chip cookies.”

“That's…”

“Unexpected? Sure, but Tori's always had a soft spot for sweets!”

So she likes chocolate….

Based on the look in her eyes, Melanie Charmant was on a mission to brighten her crush's day and she'd be damned if she were unsuccessful.

•♢°─────────°♢•

It was a meticulous piece of work, honestly.

Yuuta judged her a bit for it, but Melanie was determined to make the perfect chocolate chip cookie recipe to impress Victoria.

She didn't know the woman all that much, and in all honesty, she barely understood why she had a crush on her, to begin with.

But Melanie just felt this undying spark every time she and Victoria happened to look into each other's eyes, and her heart seemingly bursts then and there!

“Geez, Mel, you're gonna keep making this perfect?” Yuuta walked into the kitchen being an almost complete mess, and he scrunched his nose. Especially when he looked at Melanie.

In her cute ruffled apron, Melanie was decked head to toe in flour and was emitting the smell of melted chocolate all over her body.

“Oh-! Hi Yuuta!” Melanie greeted, giving her roommate a quick wave before shaping the cookies with her cookie cutters.

Yuuta rolled his eyes, walking to the pantry. “You sure you don't need any help there, Missy?”

“I'm fine,” Melanie insisted. Although Yuuta could see the slight anxiety as she prepped the cookies to bake in the oven.

He frowned, holding the poor girl by her chin and wiping away some flour off her face.

“You need to stop stressing out,” Yuuta told her, sighing to himself in disapproval. “I'm sure Shard's gonna like the cookies.”

“But I need them to be perfect, Yuuta,” Melanie remained persistent in her little ‘quest’.

“Missy,” Yuuta flicked her forehead, his frown deepening on his face.

“It's gonna be fine. Stop freaking out about it.”

“But-”

“Look, I get that you have a crush on her or something, but it's gonna work out.”

For a moment, Melanie just stood there, letting Yuuta's words simmer in her mind.

Would it work out? Sure, Melanie knew she had feelings for Victoria. That she fancied her and her gorgeous hair, her cat-like eyes, her… Everything.

But she had no way of knowing Victoria felt the same way.

And it hurt her to know of that fact.

But maybe Yuuta had a point.

Maybe, just maybe, she didn't need to worry so much. That Victoria will actually like her gift and that all her anxieties were for nothing.

“... Okay.”

•♢°─────────°♢•

Now, as much as Melanie wanted to take Yuuta's half-assed advice to heart, she really didn't wanna risk facing rejection from Victoria from giving her the cookies.

So, the young Queen of Genovia devised a plan: A little before Victoria went to her first period, Melanie would head to her classroom and place her box of cookies on Victoria's desk.

She giggled a bit, feeling rather giddy. I hope she likes it..

Melanie left the classroom and felt enough within herself to watch Victoria from a distance and see her reaction.

In full truth, Victoria did love the gift in the end.

But what Melanie didn't come to notice earlier was the small bouquet of roses and a note from an anonymous admirer that happened to be beneath the desk.

An admirer that wasn't her.

†•°•══════ஓ๑「♢」๑ஓ══════•°•†

Taglist

—

Written for

@twsted-princess

—

🥥

@starry-night-rose || @jasdiary || @authoruio || @nem0-nee || @fumikomiyasaki || @sakuramidnight15

—

「 Etteilla ♢」

@geminiiviolets || @hallowed-delights / @terrovaniadorm || @twistedsongstressofstarz / @absolutelyobsessedkiya || @abyss-wonderer || @mystery-skulls-ghost

†•°•══════ஓ๑「♢」๑ஓ══════•°•†

#twisted wonderland #twistedwonderland #twst #disney twst #ツイステ #ツイステッドワンダーランド #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #twst ocs #victoria shard #『 vic ♢ 』#melanie charmant #oc x oc #mutuals <3 #happy belated birthday!!#[2024] rosie valentines day ❣️

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