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tommykinard6 · 8 days

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I love your headcanons!

Why do you think Tommy has a difficult relationship with sex and how does that show?

Also do you have any more ideas about the emergency contact one? Like the first time they get a call from the hospital...

Yessss thank you so much for asking about those headcanons! I’ve been wanting to talk about these.

I actually just got another ask about the emergency contact and I’m going to go super in depth for that, so stay tuned!

But why do I think Tommy has a difficult relationship with sex? I’m so, so glad you asked. This is one of my biggest headcanons.

However! Please read with caution. TW: for a form of self h*rm involving sex, self hatred, and internalized homophobia.

Tommy was extremely closeted for most of his life. When he was at the 118, he couldn’t even accept himself. But at some point, he stopped being able to ignore it. For me, this might be when he realized he liked Sal (see my other post).

Now for some people, exploring your sexuality includes a *ahem* wild phase. To me, Tommy had two parts of this phase. The first one was…not great.

Tommy was a self loathing closeted man. He hated himself for being gay. He wanted to be “normal”. So when he stopped being able to ignore it, he thought he could “get it out of his system”. So he went to bars outside of LA (he wasn’t risking bumping into anyone he knew) and hooked up with any man who showed interest. He wasn’t picky. He was just more focused on getting out of this “phase”.

So he hooked up with a lot of men. And he didn’t care about himself at all. In fact, he out right hated himself every time. So it devolved. If something didn’t feel good, Tommy leaned into it because he saw it as punishment. He used sex to punish himself and to hurt himself.

I’m not quite sure about how he pulled himself out of it, but we’ll go with this. My idea is that he had a sexual partner who caught onto what was going on, that Tommy secretly hated something happening but refused to stop on his own. The partner shut down the event and when he called out, gently, Tommy on what was happening, Tommy broke down. The partner held him and listened to his garbled story and talked him through it. Instead of the hookup, they spent that night just talking, with the partner trying to get Tommy to see what was happening and get him out of the slump.

And it didn’t fix it. Tommy continued this pattern for a couple more hookups, but he started to get discontented and uncomfortable. Around this time maybe, the 118 got Bobby Nash and the dynamic started changing. Sal was gone and working with Hen, an openly queer firefighter, started to shift how he looked at himself.

So Tommy stopped the hookups and started working on himself. He couldn’t quite face himself still, but he worked on liking himself outside of his sexuality. He started laying down boundaries when he hooked up. And then he left the 118 and started therapy. He was ready to start over. He was tired of the pain and the self hate and the cycle he’d been stuck in for so long. He wanted what he’d seen others have. He saw Hen with her wife and he wanted a bond like that and he knew it could never be with a woman.

Skip forward all this time and he’s learned to be gentle with himself. He finally loves himself. He has embraced his sexuality. Maybe he’s still friendly with that past partner or maybe they never spoke again, idk. He’s had some relationships but nothing’s really stuck. Then he meets Evan Buckley.

He meets Evan Buckley and he feels the sun for the first time. And Evan is still figuring himself out and Tommy not only really likes him, but also wants to make sure Evan doesn’t make the same mistakes he did.

Does that answer the question? Let me sum it up.

Tommy used sex to punish himself and those were his first real experiences with guys. So even now, in healthier relationships and with better mindsets, he doesn’t do the hookup game anymore and is very shy of having sex too soon. He doesn’t have sex without knowing and trusting the person.

Y’all I have no idea if this made sense, but this is literally the premise of a story in my brain.

#911 abc #9-1-1 #911 show #tommy kinard #911 season 7 #lou ferrigno jr #bucktommy #evan buckley #911 spoilers #tk6 answers #tk6 muses #911 meta #tw: mental health #tw: self loathing #tw: self destruction #read the tws

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cupcakeslushie · 2 years

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You seem to switch up referring to seperated AU Donnie as “Donnie” or as “three” - is there a specific intention with the name changes?

Switching them up is purposeful in that I’ll mostly be referring to Donnie as Three when it’s relating to pre-reunion events and Donnie as post reunion. But also in the sense that Three doesn’t just go away, he’ll take on a sort of back seat and act as Donnie’s negative thoughts. He’ll mostly replace the visions Donnie sees of the boy’s now that he’s met the real versions. But it’s not like a straight split down the middle, which can cause them to bleed into each other, even after Donnie’s grown more comfortable with his family.

The fam does know about them, as Donnie’s not great at hiding his reactions to them, openly talking and hissing at nothing when they bother him. As I’ve mentioned, Arcane and Jinx were the inspiration for this AU so Donnie’s hallucinations are pretty similar to the jumbled scratchy messes Jinx sees. Which I just love, love, love the look of. If you haven’t watched Arcane I can’t suggest it enough just based on the visuals alone!

Sometimes he’ll sit still for hours at a time, dissociating and staring at nothing. Those episodes will be somehow worse than his outbursts because when Donnie comes out of them he’s always so disoriented, and sometimes violent. Once he let’s his guard down, he becomes more okay with letting the brothers and Splinter take care of him during these times. He trusts that they wont hurt him while he’s stuck in his own head. But it does take months before he stops lashing out in fear of being suddenly touched.

He would never attack April (again), just on the basis that by the time he joins the family, he’s the odd one out in being uncomfortable around her, and he wouldn’t want to upset his brothers or father. He might be a little paranoid and rude when speaking to her, especially in those first few weeks, but after watching her for a time, and coming to the conclusion that she wouldn’t hurt him or his family, he begins to treat her more civilly. The real start of their bonding is when he spots her working on some coding homework on the couch and for lack of anything better to do, offers to help.

I’m honestly not completely sure yet just how Splinter will react to seeing Donnie for the first time. I know Donnie is overjoyed at first (finally the approval of a parental figure), but I can say it won’t be as seamless as Donnie’s always imagined having a family will. There will be some heavy roadblocks on both their ends. Both of them mean well. And Splinter will try his best.

Draxum was never one to waste materials, and also didn’t want anesthesia contaminating his results. When Three was younger, simple tests were conducted pretty much every day, but as he got older and the tests grew worse it became more difficult to wrangle Three and Draxum would sometimes have to threaten or restrain him if he didn’t come when called.

Draxum’s main goal was similar to canon—perfecting his ooze, and he tries using Three as a base to make more. Also if he’s stuck with Three, he imagines there must be some way to enhance him into the perfect warrior from his plans. But the more failures that pile up, the more Draxum realizes Three’s weaknesses will never allow room for improvement.

Three resents his soft-shell, but he wouldn’t outright admit it to Draxum, out of pride. His insecurities and descent into desperation for approval do eventually drive him towards trying to fix himself on his own, thinking even if Draxum couldn’t figure something out, that maybe he could.

#ask slushie #separated au #rottmnt separated au

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nanowrimo · 1 year

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Five Tips for Memoir Writing When the Words Feel Too Hot to Touch

Memoir writing can be powerful, but often times, requires the writer to look back on difficult times in their lives. NaNo Participant Emily Henderson talks about her own experiences with memoirs and gives tips on navigating painful experiences.

Content Warning: Death of a child to cancer.

I've been working on a memoir for what feels like 1000 years. In the beginning, I wrote about how, by the time I was 18, I lost both of my parents, one to a plane crash and the other to breast cancer. I wrote about my descent into alcoholism and eventual path to sobriety. I wrote about marriage and motherhood, all against the backdrop of my love for running. I thought this would be my memoir.

But then, in 2019, my youngest son Aiden was diagnosed with brain cancer, and four months later, he was gone. Suddenly, the memoir I had in my mind no longer made sense, and I stopped writing. It wasn't until the pandemic that I returned to journaling and running to process my grief. I decided to run every street in my city, and thus a new shape for my memoir began to form.

In 2021, I threw my hat in the NaNoWriMo ring. I began knowing how hard it would be to write about my son and all the trauma surrounding his death. I wanted to protect my mental health while I tried to put words into the most painful moments of my life. Below are a few strategies I employed to help me win NaNo.

1. Gather Source Material

I re-read old journals, blog posts, and social media posts. I highlighted different themes and organized them into sections. For instance, I marked scenes from my childhood and those about my son with different colored highlighters. The idea is to avoid getting lost in memories when the focus should be on writing.

2. S.O.S. Journal Prompts

On days when the words just aren't flowing, I like to have a few journal prompts handy. I write them down on index cards and pull them out when I get stuck. I made some of my biggest writing breakthroughs with these prompts.

“The doctor said….”

“On a good day….”

“At my age….”

3. Change your entry point.

I wrote around and around the scene where my son dies, possibly trying to change the ending, but I couldn’t seem to get it right. Rather than bang my head against the wall, I came at it from a different angle. I wrote about my husband and how our marriage grew stronger through our son's treatment. Then when it came time to write the worst moment of my life, where my husband and I hold each other as we say our final goodbyes, I felt more relaxed and confident that I could do the scene justice.

4. Write a rant.

I have a lot of anger around the loss of my son, and I find writing a long rant about how unfair it all is, helps to clear the cobwebs to find the truth in the narrative. I like to set a timer for 20 minutes and write nonstop, even if all I write is, “I miss my son,” over and over again.

5. Non-judgmental social support

Writing about trauma is emotionally draining, and I knew I would need to decompress after tapping into the harder parts of my story. I scheduled lunch with close friends with whom I could talk openly. They often made connections I couldn’t see, and that led to even more writing breakthroughs.

Once again, life keeps happening, and in January, I gave birth to my fourth child. She is next to me as I write this, cooing and grunting while she sleeps. It seems my memoir has shifted once again, and I have a perfect epilogue to my story.

Emily Henderson is a freelance writer living with her family in Santa Barbara, CA. Her essays have appeared in HuffPost Personal, Scary Mommy, Writing Class Radio, and The Santa Barbara Independent. She is currently working on a memoir about processing the loss of her son while running every street in her city.

You can read more of Emily’s writing on her Substack, I’m Really Very Literary, or follow her on Instagram @emilykathleenwrites or visit emilykathleenwrites.com. Photo by Carli Jeen on Unsplash

#nanowrimo #camp nanowrimo #writing #writing advice #memoir writing #by nano guest #Emily Henderson

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ghoulseason · 8 months

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terzo has been haunting copia (literally)

Copia knows what it is to overthink. He knows the sound of his own internal monologue mocking him. The little ways it changes to sound like Papa Nihil or Sister Imperator. The shape and nature of its cruelty.

This isn't like that.

This is ringing that echoes in his ears like church bells until it eventually turns into the tenor of his brother in full clarity.

"So, how does it feel? The papacy."

The voice causes Copia to jump and drop the letters he'd been gathering. Terzo is an apparition lounging against the bookcase, a ghastly scar wrapping around his neck.

Copia's eyes dart to the door and then to the window, looking for any other sign that his office had been tampered with. Terzo follows his gaze and raises a manicured eyebrow.

"Afraid she might have done something to mess with you?"

"You-" Copia starts. His mouth is suddenly very dry. How many times had he rehearsed the exact apology he would give his predecessor if he had only gotten the chance?

I'm so sorry, I didn't ask for it to happen like this. I never wanted it to happen like this.

What comes out is less eloquent, if not insensitive. But it's a well-rehearsed reflex and he's still in shock: "So, how are you doing?"

At least it gets a laugh.

"How am I doing? I'm dead, you ass, I'm doing terribly."

"Oh, right. Er..." Copia nods. The words are still stuck in his throat and suddenly Terzo's ghost is moving towards him. He feels a chill as two hands hold his face.

"Watch your back, Papa." Terzo spits out the title in a stark contrast to the the gentleness of his hands. "Trust no one."

Then he's gone, and Copia is frozen in place.

The visits become more regular, most often in those quiet moments between one responsibility and another.

Terzo tells him that he seems more confident. He tells him that his ghouls seem dedicated to him. He tells him that he's accomplished an impressive amount for little Cardinal Copia.

Copia tells Terzo about the tours and the places he's seen. The audiences that still adore the legacy left behind by the previous Papas. How it's been a challenge to fill such large shoes.

It seems unnatural. The two of them never spoke this openly when Terzo was alive. Every conversation had always been professional, going back to their respective roles in the ministry.

One day, Copia tells Terzo that he misses the sound of his singing when he would rehearse with the ghouls in the courtyard. He still can't bring himself to say he's sorry.

Sister Imperator calls Copia to her office. She offers him a seat, a toffee, and, "a piece of friendly advice."

Copia stops unwrapping the candy as she says this, which she takes as an invitation to continue.

"The walls of the ministry have ears, C. There are no secrets within it." She leans in. "Everything eventually finds its way to me."

"That must make surprise parties difficult."

She slaps the candy out of his hands. "Don't get smart with me. The next time you think you think about invoking certain dead traitors, I want you to remember how they got there."

Her eyes flit to the toffee on the ground. She sighs. "You didn't need that anyway."

It's not that Terzo doesn't try to talk to Copia anymore. It's just that Copia doesn't respond to him.

After a week of being ignored, Terzo appears in his bedroom in the middle of the night. He knocks a stack of prayer books off of the nightstand. "Don't ignore me, asshole."

Copia startles awake. Terzo's lip quivers with the tension of his frown. Silence fills the room as both of them try to compose themselves.

Terzo is the first to speak again, softly. "Why haven't we been talking?"

Copia stares at him, taken aback by the genuine hurt on Terzo's face. "I'm sorry."

And then the floodgate is open, and out pours every apology he's held onto for the last five years.

#terzo is dead and he's bored as hell #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iv #copia #terzo #sister imperator #the band ghost #ghost band #ghost fic

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ineffectualdemon · 11 months

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There are things I said and did as a child or a preteen that I or others laughed off as "kids say the darnedest things!" But on reflection and what memories I retain of them speak more of psychosis

When I was little I showed my grandmother an empty room and told her "these are all my friends"

And I remember that that was probably about The People Who Lived in the Walls. They would whisper secrets to me and they were safe...mostly. and I remember being confused when people called them imaginary friends because I had imaginary friends and to me the People Who Lived In the Walls weren't imaginary. They were very real to me

I started to believe that my plush toys were alive. And this was long before toy story was a thing and it wasn't in the toy story way

I could hear them whispering. I knew they were angry and jealous and wanted my attention and if they didn't get it they would kill me. Graphically

After what feels like months of fear and keeping a strict rotation of where each plush was on the bed and making sure they were happy I broke and bagged up all but the toys I felt didn't want me dead and took all the murder toys to the basement where I would visit them every so often to apologise and still lay awake at night in fear that they would figure out how to find my room and murder me

Lastly when I was about 12/13 I covered my room in pictures of preteen boys because I became aware that's what the other girls at school were doing and I was trying to fit in and behave like a girl at the time (I was very bad at it) And slowly I came to feel the pictures were watching me

And if you had asked me I would have laughed and said "of course they aren't watching me! They're just pictures" but I was also changing my clothes in my closet so they couldn't see me

I was sure I could see the eyes moving and yes, they also whispered

It got so bad that I ripped down all the pictures and then had to cover the stack of pictures with other paper to get rid of them. Touching them freaked me out because they felt alive to me

Now tbf to the people around me I didn't and in many ways couldn't explain the fine details of how I was feeling at the time

I was extremely secretive - partly because that's natural to me and partly because my parents berated me for "telling tales" and lastly because a number of adults had called me a liar at that point when I hadn't lied

I wrote my journals in either code or mirror writing and once I hit my preteens I regularly burnt them

Part of the reason I talk so openly about mental health stuff on Tumblr is to combat my tendency towards extreme secrecy

But I also find explaining my feelings and emotions is exceedingly difficult

There is also the fact that if asked if I knew that pictures couldn't actual watch me I would answer "of course not!" Because intellectually I knew that was silly. But what I didn't add was "but those pictures are alive" which is what I felt

And while I'm taking out these facts and examining them and starting to understand the history of my psychosis I'm not feeling that it's a negative thing

I managed my psychosis for a long time on my own. I know what triggers me and what doesn't and how to avoid things that cause delusions and when to not trust myself no matter how brilliant I think I am in the moment

It's nice to understand it but it's not something scary. It's something that's very manageable for me without medication and I like having a better understanding of my life growing up with psychosis

#mental health #psychosis #personal

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shanksbaby · 1 year

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Hii, hc idea for shunsui regretting breaking up with his partner because he thought he wasn’t ready to commit but now he chases after her because he wants to marry and have children with her

tysm

had fun to write this :D

Shunsui Kyōraku

you and Shunsui have a short love story behind you, really very short: it lasted about six months. Why did it last so little? Becuse did Shunsui point blank tell you that he wasn't ready for a romance after he courted you for a year.

you still remember the pain and the feeling that your heart was shattered, the tears and him not having the courage to look you in the face; while you cried and begged to reconsider (also because you were in love with him since before you got together) and he instead looked at everything but you.

five years have passed since that day, now you are a person who has moved on, you no longer think about him and even if you remember the pain. . . it doesn't hurt you anymore to think about Shunsui. He's completely gone from your life since that day, or so you thought….

you became the lieutenant of the second division, and as your first assignment Soi Fon ordered you to attend the Gotei 13 meeting in her place, and of course there is Kyoraku Shunsui, by the way he just became captain of the thirteenth division. When you enter, you only give him the briefest glance as you feel his gaze upon you.

as soon as the meeting is over, you try to leave the room as quickly as possible but unfortunately the captain asks you to stay to 'discuss very important things', clearly a trap but you can't say no to a captain in front of others.

he simply tells you that he is sorry for the way he behaved, that he hoped the hostilities would resolve. He knows that it's difficult for you to be friends again, but that he hopes for it anyway, in the distant future.

you tell him that it's over and you don't harbor hostility towards him but you don't know if you can go back to being his friend because after leaving you he completely disappeared from your life. But still you want to get back to being at least on good terms, after all he's the captain and so it's very likely you'll see each other.

every now and then you pass each other on the street in the middle of the large building or at the meetings of the captains and lieutenants. It was a little awkward for both of you at first because it's been a long time and there's a lot you guys don't know about each other, but then you slowly get back to talking like you normally did before the breakup.

unfortunately for him , Shunsui returns to having those feelings for you. He doesn't know how to do it, he also asked Ukitake for advice, because he knows very well that he doesn't have the right to confess after what he did to you.

but at the same time he can't distance himself from you, he can't not look for you, not look for your gaze, stop that feeling of warmth every time you smile at him. And he knows it's selfish to have those feelings but he can't help it.

the worst part? That he has discovered that he is a jealous person. He doesn't know if you know but every time he sees Captain Kenpachi talking to you and you have that expression of admiration towards Zaraki he makes an expression that betrays jealousy.

so he decides to try to win you back even though he knows it's a selfish decision. How does he try? Starting to openly flirt with you, helping you with your lieutenant chores, mysteriously appearing behind you to help with the shopping.

since you are not a stupid person you decide to confront him, asking him what this behavior change is, Shunsui immediately tells you everything, he doesn't get around the problem. However you don't know how to react to the confession.

"like i said before, i'm sorry for what i did to you and i know it's selfish but…Y\N-chan, i fell in love with you. This time it's different: I want a family with you, I want to marry you and have children with you."

you couldn't deny that you had feelings for him but… can you really trust this man? can you trust him to change?

#officially got together: you couldn't ask for a better partner.#bleach headcanons #bleach kyoraku #shunsui kyoraku #shunsui kyoraku x reader #bleach #shunsui bleach #shunsui x reader #shunsui x you #bleach shunsui #kyoraku shunsui x reader #shunsui x y/n #kyoraku shunsui

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no-terfs-no-swerfs-no-fascists · 2 years

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I was waiting for local papers to come out with anything half-decent before I posted anything about it, but since that ain't happening, I'll make do with The Guardian because they're the only ones whose article mentions that our Prime Minister, an out butch lesbian who openly lives with her partner and they have a child, has not only done nothing for the community, but has actively worked against it.

So.

Basically, our war criminal Prezz is terrified of what the fash will do now that he and the Gov can't escape finally admitting that Kosovo is an independent republic and that they've just been beating a dead horse and using the Kosovo Serbs as a political token they fully intend to sell out the second it's profitable for them personally, so he's trying to appease them by cancelling EuroPride.

This potentially means a return to Pride as a protest... and all the violence that will come with it.

The first Pride was organized in 2001, after the "democratic" changes in Serbia, but it ended with a BRUTAL beating of the participants by right-wing groups, football hooligans, and cops. I thought about posting photos, but I didn't want to disturb anyone, and they're googlable.

The second Pride was planned again in 2004, but the organizers canceled it after the March Riots and the burning of mosques in Niš and Belgrade, and it won't be until 2009 that there would be another attempt. This one was blatantly sabotaged by the Government, who abruptly made the decision to move the parade to a location different from the one originally planned, applied, and approved of, effectively making it impossible to hold the event.

The first SUCCESSFUL Pride Parade was held in 2010. And by "successful," I mean nobody got beaten up during the event. However, members of numerous right-wing groups, football hooligans, and members of clergy lined the sidewalks to counter-protest, and people who took part in Pride hound themselves yelled at, threatened, spat on, had various objects thrown at them, and banners with hateful messages were visible everywhere.

In 2014, the first Pride that truly went without any incidents (although counter-protesters were still around, they were drowned out by the sheer number of Pride participants, over 1000 of them - which may not sound like a lot to you, but compared to previous attempts, it was PACKED). The following year was not only the first consecutive Pride, but the first Trans Pride event was held, too.

Pride has been held every year since (although in 2020 it was held in the digital spaces due to COVID-19), every year with new events added and more people attending. The events themselves were safe, although counter-protests keep being held and, unfortunately but predictably, a lot of people get bashed on their way home from Pride.

This year, Belgrade is supposed to be the host of EuroPride (think of it as the Olympics of Pride events in European countries), and about two months ago, serious and constantly escalating attacks on both the community and the organizers have begun to crop up, mostly from right-wing politicians (ie, almost all politicians), but also other right-wing groups and, most recently, the clergy.

I didn't talk about it much because, unfortunately, all that shit is so normalized here that if I did, I'd be talking about nothing else (and, frankly, the past two months have also been extremely difficult for me personally, too). But this shit needs to be talked about, needs to be out there, and you need to know about it from me, as for a lot of you, I'm likely the only person who lives in Serbia that you know.

All if this came at us amidst a scandal of Pride events being pay-to-enter for the first time ever (except for the parade) and a lot of people being justifiably PISSED at the organizers, who are also the leaders of the biggest LGBTQIAP+ NGO in the country, which is a whole nother can of worms that I, honestly, don't have the energy to get into (and I'm supposed to be working anyway, so I should probably bring this story to a conclusion already).

Wish us luck, everyone.

We need it.

Badly.

#serbia #pride #europride #pride 2022 #europride 2022 #LGBTQIAP+#belgrade #balkans

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lampmanliveblogs · 2 years

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And we’re back!

Before we continue though I just feel the need to bring up something I forgot to talk about yesterday. Probably because I was getting tired at that point.

Eda and Lilith are at surprisingly good terms with each other considering the whole curse thing. I would not blame Eda if she was, you know, a little upset at her sister for it. That’d be understandable. But she seems very cordial about the whole thing. She is helping and supporting her sister who now finds herself in the same situation. I’m wondering if there might still be some negative feelings left to work out… or maybe Eda really just a very forgiving person.

As for Lilith, she is very obviously remorseful for her sins, openly sharing her feelings of guilt and asking Eda for forgiveness. That might be one of the reasons Eda is so forgiving, because Lilith is for once admitting that she is wrong.

This is all relevant to this episode, because we see Eda here being very cold towards her mother. Gwendolyn is here, seemingly, very warm and open. She doesn’t seem to care much about her daughters being outlaws or in Eda’s case a former wanted criminal. I wonder what kind of events might’ve taken place in the past to make Eda so unforgiving towards her mother, but not to her sister.

I’m also interested in seeing what Lilith’s relationship with her mother looked like and how it changed by her becoming a traitor to the Emperor’s Coven and now sharing the curse with Eda… and how Gwendolyn will react to finding out Lilith is the one who gave Eda the curse in the first place.

Although considering the title of this episode… perhaps they don’t want her to find any of that out.

Let’s continue and see.

"This bitch empty."

”YEET!” -Eda, probably

Me too, that went over way too fast.

Look, Eda, I’m not gonna tell you what to do with your body, but maybe Lilith wants her curse removed? You could at least ask her before you sent your mother blasting off again.

We at least got some timeline clues. It was thirty years since Eda first got her curse. As I recall it, witches join a coven when they’re 17-18. Lilith cursed Eda the day before they were to battle over who got to join the Emperor’s Coven. This puts Lilith and Eda in the 47-50 range (since it might not be EXACTLY thirty years since then).

It is also confirmed Lilith dyes her hair black. I wonder if she dyes her hair because Eda lost the colour in her hair due to the curse? Or maybe she just thought it looked more dignified. Imagine the head of the Emperor’s Coven running around in a black dress and with bright orang hair. Or maybe her hair just started naturally greying, and she dyes it to hide it.

Speaking of Lilith, she seems a bit… not too happy over this. She puts herself in front of Eda, vying for her mother’s attention, only to be quickly brushed aside. She gets this expression… disappointment? Jealousy? Over Eda getting all the attention perhaps?

I’m still not sure exactly what to make of all of this. I have a couple of puzzle pieces and can make out a few details, but i can’t see the full picture yet. Maybe if I keep watching, the answers will reveal themselves to me.

I have a bad feeling about this…

Some more interesting puzzle pieces were tossed my way. I feel like a puzzle robot trying to solve a 3x3.

Gwendolyn has tried to cure Eda before, but it never worked. Thus, Eda is not even gonna bother trying this time. At this point, I think she has come to accept the curse as a part of her that she is simply gonna have to live with. She would rather stick to doing something she knows works, even if it is difficult at times (using the potions to stave off the effects & learning to use glyph magic) rather than going through whatever supposed miracle cure her mother has brought her this time.

As for Lilith… she has not seen Gwendolyn in a long time. She reacts with surprise to learn she visits Eda regularly (as in, she comes around once every year ). This is strange. Lilith was the head of the Emperor’s Coven, that surely would make any parent proud? But Gwendolyn seems to have little interest in Lilith, she is obsessed with Eda and curing her.

As for Luz… well, she said it herself. She would kill to see her mom right now. Luz destroyed the portal to the human realm, severing the contact between her and her mother. She can never ever again talk to her, tell her how much she loves her or do anything. As far she knows, there is no way back to the human realm. It’s too late for Luz. Which is why she might feel compelled to try and ”fix” this whole situation. She doesn’t want Eda to make the same mistake, to miss out on spending valuable time with her mother.

Of course, through those good intentions, she forgets that there might be some very good reasons why Eda doesn’t talk to her mother anymore.

(on a slight sidenote, I can only imagine the kind of nightmares Camila must be having back in the human realm. She sent Luz off to summer camp, only for her to never return. And now she doesn’t answer any texts or calls anymore…)

#the owl house #liveblog #the owl house liveblog #toh s2e4 #keeping up a-fear-ances

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transgenderteensurvivalguide · 3 years

Link

��Elliot Page doesn’t remember exactly how long he had been asking.

But he does remember the acute feeling of triumph when, around age 9, he was finally allowed to cut his hair short. “I felt like a boy,” Page says. “I wanted to be a boy. I would ask my mom if I could be someday.” Growing up in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Page visualized himself as a boy in imaginary games, freed from the discomfort of how other people saw him: as a girl. After the haircut, strangers finally started perceiving him the way he saw himself, and it felt both right and exciting.

The joy was short-lived. Months later, Page got his first break, landing a part as a daughter in a Canadian mining family in the TV movie Pit Pony. He wore a wig for the film, and when Pit Pony became a TV show, he grew his hair out again. “I became a professional actor at the age of 10,” Page says. And pursuing that passion came with a difficult compromise. “Of course I had to look a certain way.”

We are speaking in late February. It is the first interview Page, 34, has given since disclosing in December that he is transgender, in a heartfelt letter posted to Instagram, and he is crying before I have even uttered a question. “Sorry, I’m going to be emotional, but that’s cool, right?” he says, smiling through his tears.

It’s hard for him to talk about the days that led up to that disclosure. When I ask how he was feeling, he looks away, his neck exposed by a new short haircut. After a pause, he presses his hand to his heart and closes his eyes. “This feeling of true excitement and deep gratitude to have made it to this point in my life,” he says, “mixed with a lot of fear and anxiety.”

It’s not hard to understand why a trans person would be dealing with conflicting feelings in this moment. Increased social acceptance has led to more young people describing themselves as trans—1.8% of Gen Z compared with 0.2% of boomers, according to a recent Gallup poll—yet this has fueled conservatives who are stoking fears about a “transgender craze.” President Joe Biden has restored the right of transgender military members to serve openly, and in Hollywood, trans people have never had more meaningful time onscreen. Meanwhile, J.K. Rowling is leveraging her cultural capital to oppose transgender equality in the name of feminism, and lawmakers are arguing in the halls of Congress over the validity of gender identities. “Sex has become a political football in the culture wars,” says Chase Strangio, deputy director for transgender justice at the ACLU.

(Full article with photos continued under the “read more”)

And so Page—who charmed America as a precocious pregnant teenager in Juno, constructed dreamscapes in Inception and now stars in Netflix’s hit superhero show The Umbrella Academy, the third season of which he’s filming in Toronto—expected that his news would be met with both applause and vitriol. “What I was anticipating was a lot of support and love and a massive amount of hatred and transphobia,” says Page. “That’s essentially what happened.” What he did not anticipate was just how big this story would be. Page’s announcement, which made him one of the most famous out trans people in the world, started trending on Twitter in more than 20 countries. He gained more than 400,000 new followers on Instagram on that day alone. Thousands of articles were published. Likes and shares reached the millions. Right-wing podcasters readied their rhetoric about “women in men’s locker rooms.” Casting directors reached out to Page’s manager saying it would be an honor to cast Page in their next big movie.

So, it was a lot. Over the course of two conversations, Page will say that understanding himself in all the specifics remains a work in progress. Fathoming one’s gender, an identity innate and performed, personal and social, fixed and evolving, is complicated enough without being under a spotlight that never seems to turn off. But having arrived at a critical juncture, Page feels a deep sense of responsibility to share his truth. “Extremely influential people are spreading these myths and damaging rhetoric—every day you’re seeing our existence debated,” Page says. “Transgender people are so very real.”

That role in Pit Pony led to other productions and eventually, when Page was 16, to a film called Mouth to Mouth. Playing a young anarchist, Page had a chance to cut his hair again. This time, he shaved it off completely. The kids at his high school teased him, but in photos he has posted from that time on social media he looks at ease. Page’s head was still shaved when he mailed in an audition tape for the 2005 thriller Hard Candy. The people in charge of casting asked him to audition again in a wig. Soon, the hair was back.

Page’s tour de force performance in Hard Candy led, two years later, to Juno, a low-budget indie film that brought Page Oscar, BAFTA and Golden Globe nominations and sudden megafame. The actor, then 21, struggled with the stresses of that ascension. The endless primping, red carpets and magazine spreads were all agonizing reminders of the disconnect between how the world saw Page and who he knew himself to be. “I just never recognized myself,” Page says. “For a long time I could not even look at a photo of myself.” It was difficult to watch the movies too, especially ones in which he played more feminine roles.

Page loved making movies, but he also felt alienated by Hollywood and its standards. Alia Shawkat, a close friend and co-star in 2009’s Whip It,describes all the attention from Juno as scarring. “He had a really hard time with the press and expectations,” Shawkat says. “‘Put this on! And look this way! And this is sexy!’”

By the time he appeared in blockbusters like X-Men: The Last Stand and Inception, Page was suffering from depression, anxiety and panic attacks. He didn’t know, he says, “how to explain to people that even though [I was] an actor, just putting on a T-shirt cut for a woman would make me so unwell.” Shawkat recalls Page’s struggles with clothes. “I’d be like, ‘Hey, look at all these nice outfits you’re getting,’ and he would say, ‘It’s not me. It feels like a costume,’” she says. Page tried to convince himself that he was fine, that someone who was fortunate enough to have made it shouldn’t have complaints. But he felt exhausted by the work required to “just exist,” and thought more than once about quitting acting.

In 2014, Page came out as gay, despite feeling for years that “being out was impossible” given his career. (Gender identity and sexual orientation are, of course, distinct, but one queer identity can coexist with another.) In an emotional speech at a Human Rights Campaign conference, Page talked about being part of an industry “that places crushing standards” on actors and viewers alike. “There are pervasive stereotypes about masculinity and femininity that define how we’re all supposed to act, dress and speak,” Page went on. “And they serve no one.”

The actor started wearing suits on the red carpet. He found love, marrying choreographer Emma Portner in 2018. He asserted more agency in his career, producing his own films with LGBTQ leads like Freeheld and My Days of Mercy. And he made a masculine wardrobe a condition of taking roles. Yet the daily discord was becoming unbearable. “The difference in how I felt before coming out as gay to after was massive,” says Page. “But did the discomfort in my body ever go away? No, no, no, no.”

In part, it was the isolation forced by the pandemic that brought to a head Page’s wrestling with gender. (Page and Portner separated last summer, and the two divorced in early 2021. “We’ve remained close friends,” Page says.) “I had a lot of time on my own to really focus on things that I think, in so many ways, unconsciously, I was avoiding,” he says. He was inspired by trailblazing trans icons like Janet Mock and Laverne Cox, who found success in Hollywood while living authentically. Trans writers helped him understand his feelings; Page saw himself reflected in P. Carl’s memoir Becoming a Man. Eventually “shame and discomfort” gave way to revelation. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” Page says, “and letting myself fully become who I am.”

This led to a series of decisions. One was asking the world to call him by a different name, Elliot, which he says he’s always liked. Page has a tattoo that says E.P. PHONE HOME, a reference to a movie about a young boy with that name. “I loved E.T. when I was a kid and always wanted to look like the boys in the movies, right?” he says. The other decision was to use different pronouns—for the record, both he/him and they/them are fine. (When I ask if he has a preference on pronouns for the purposes of this story, Page says, “He/him is great.”)

A day before we first speak, Page will talk to his mom about this interview and she will tell him, “I’m just so proud of my son.” He grows emotional relating this and tries to explain that his mom, the daughter of a minister, who was born in the 1950s, was always trying to do what she thought was best for her child, even if that meant encouraging young Page to act like a girl. “She wants me to be who I am and supports me fully,” Page says. “It is a testament to how people really change.”

Another decision was to get top surgery. Page volunteers this information early in our conversation; at the time he posted his disclosure on Instagram, he was recovering in Toronto. Like many trans people, Page emphasizes being trans isn’t all about surgery. For some people, it’s unnecessary. For others, it’s unaffordable. For the wider world, the media’s focus on it has sensationalized transgender bodies, inviting invasive and inappropriate questions. But Page describes surgery as something that, for him, has made it possible to finally recognize himself when he looks in the mirror, providing catharsis he’s been waiting for since the “total hell” of puberty. “It has completely transformed my life,” he says. So much of his energy was spent on being uncomfortable in his body, he says. Now he has that energy back.

For the transgender community at large, visibility does not automatically lead to acceptance. Around the globe, transgender people deal disproportionately with violence and discrimination. Anti-trans hate crimes are on the rise in the U.K. along with increasingly transphobic rhetoric in newspapers and tabloids. In the U.S., in addition to the perennial challenges trans people face with issues like poverty and homelessness, a flurry of bills in state legislatures would make it a crime to provide transition-related medical care to trans youth. And crass old jokes are still in circulation. When Biden lifted the ban on open service for transgender troops, Saturday Night Live’s Michael Che did a bit on Weekend Update about the policy being called “don’t ask, don’t tuck.”

Page says coming out as trans was “selfish” on one level: “It’s for me. I want to live and be who I am.” But he also felt a moral imperative to do so, given the times. Human identity is complicated and mysterious, but politics insists on fitting everything into boxes. In today’s culture wars, simplistic beliefs about gender—e.g., chromosomes = destiny—are so widespread and so deep-seated that many people who hold those beliefs don’t feel compelled to consider whether they might be incomplete or prejudiced. On Feb. 24, after a passionate debate on legislation that would ban discrimination against LGBTQ people, Representative Marie Newman, an Illinois Democrat, proudly displayed the pride flag in support of her daughter, who is trans. Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, a Georgia Republican, responded by hanging a poster outside her office that read: There are TWO genders: MALE & FEMALE.

The next day Dr. Rachel Levine, who stands to become the first openly transgender federal official confirmed by the Senate, endured a tirade from Senator Rand Paul about “genital mutilation” during her confirmation hearing. My second conversation with Page happens shortly after this. He brings it up almost immediately, and seems both heartbroken and determined. He wants to emphasize that top surgery, for him, was “not only life-changing but lifesaving.” He implores people to educate themselves about trans lives, to learn how crucial medical care can be, to understand that lack of access to it is one of the many reasons that an estimated 41% of transgender people have attempted suicide, according to one survey.

Page has been in the political trenches for a while, having leaned into progressive activism after coming out as queer in 2014. For two seasons, he and best friend Ian Daniel filmed Gaycation, a Viceland series that explored LGBTQ culture around the world and, at one point, showed Page grilling Senator Ted Cruz at the Iowa State Fair about discrimination against queer people. In 2019, Page made a documentary called There’s Something in the Water, which explores environmental hardships experienced by communities of color in Nova Scotia, with $350,000 of his own money. That activism extends to his own industry: in 2017, he published a Facebook post that, among other things, accused director Brett Ratner of forcibly outing him as gay on the set of an X-Men movie. (A representative for Ratner did not respond to a request for comment.)

As a trans person who is white, wealthy and famous, Page has a unique kind of privilege, and with it an opportunity to advocate for those with less. According to the U.S. Trans Survey, a large-scale report from 2015, transgender people of color are more likely to experience unemployment, harassment by police and refusals of medical care. Nearly half of all Black respondents reported being denied equal treatment, verbally harassed and/or physically attacked in the past year. Trans people as a group fare much worse on such stats than the general population. “My privilege has allowed me to have resources to get through and to be where I am today,” Page says, “and of course I want to use that privilege and platform to help in the ways I can.”

Since his disclosure, Page has been mostly quiet on social media. One exception has been to tweet on behalf of the ACLU, which is in the midst of fighting anti-trans bills and laws around the country, including those that ban transgender girls and women from participating in sports. Mississippi Governor Tate Reeves says he will sign such a bill in the name of “protect[ing] young girls.” Page played competitive soccer and vividly recalls the agony of being told he would have to play on the girls’ team once he aged out of mixed-gender squads. After an appeal, Page was allowed to play with the boys for an additional year. Today, several bills list genitalia as a requirement for deciding who plays on which team. “I would have been in that position as a kid,” Page says. “It’s horrific.”

All this advocacy is unlikely to make life easier. “You can’t enter into certain spaces as a public trans person,” says the ACLU’s Strangio, “without being prepared to spend some percentage of your life being threatened and harassed.” Yet, while he seems overwhelmed at times, Page is also eager. Many of the political attacks on trans people—whether it is a mandate that bathroom use be determined by birth sex, a blanket ban on medical interventions for trans kids or the suggestion that trans men are simply wayward women beguiled by male privilege—carry the same subtext: that trans people are mistaken about who they are. “We know who we are,” Page says. “People cling to these firm ideas [about gender] because it makes people feel safe. But if we could just celebrate all the wonderful complexities of people, the world would be such a better place.”

Even if Page weren’t vocal, his public presence would communicate something powerful. That is in part because of what Paisley Currah, a professor of political science at Brooklyn College, calls “visibility gaps.” Historically, trans women have been more visible, in culture and in Hollywood, than trans men. There are many explanations: Our culture is obsessed with femininity. Men’s bodies are less policed and scrutinized. Patriarchal people tend to get more emotional about who is considered to be in the same category as their daughters. “And a lot of trans men don’t stand out as trans,” says Currah, who is a trans man himself. “I think we’ve taken up less of the public’s attention because masculinity is sort of the norm.”

During our interviews, Page will repeatedly refer to himself as a “transgender guy.” He also calls himself nonbinary and queer, but for him, transmasculinity is at the center of the conversation right now. “It’s a complicated journey,” he says, “and an ongoing process.”

While the visibility gap means that trans men have been spared some of the hate endured by trans women, it has also meant that people like Page have had fewer models. “There were no examples,” Page says of growing up in Halifax in the 1990s. There are many queer people who have felt “that how they feel deep inside isn’t a real thing because they never saw it reflected back to them,” says Tiq Milan, an activist, author and transgender man. Page offers a reflection: “They can see that and say, ‘You know what, that’s who I am too,’” Milan says. When there aren’t examples, he says, “people make monsters of us.”

For decades, that was something Hollywood did. As detailed in the 2020 Netflix documentary Disclosure, transgender people have been portrayed onscreen as villainous and deceitful, tragic subplots or the butt of jokes. In a sign of just how far the industry has come—spurred on by productions like Pose and trailblazers like Mock—Netflix offered to change the credits on The Umbrella Academy the same day that its star posted his statement on social media. Now when an episode ends, the first words viewers see are “Elliot Page.”

Today, there are many out trans and nonbinary actors, directors and producers. Storylines involving trans people are more common, more respectful. Sometimes that aspect of identity is even incidental, rather than the crux of a morality tale. And yet Hollywood can still seem a frightening place for LGBTQ people to come out. “It’s an industry that says, ‘Don’t do that,’” says director Silas Howard, who got his break on Amazon’s show Transparent, which made efforts to hire transgender crew members. “I wouldn’t have been hired if they didn’t have a trans initiative,” Howard says. “I’m always aware of that.”

So what will it mean for Page’s career? While Page has appeared in many projects, he also faced challenges landing female leads because he didn’t fit Hollywood’s narrow mold. Since Page’s Instagram post, his team is seeing more activity than they have in years. Many of the offers coming in—to direct, to produce, to act—are trans-related, but there are also some “dude roles.”

Downtime in quarantine helped Page accept his gender identity. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” he says.

Page was attracted to the role of Vanya in The Umbrella Academy because—in the first season, released in 2019—Vanya is crushed by self-loathing, believing herself to be the only ordinary sibling in an extraordinary family. The character can barely summon the courage to move through the world. “I related to how much Vanya was closed off,” Page says. Now on set filming the third season, co-workers have seen a change in the actor. “It seems like there’s a tremendous weight off his shoulders, a feeling of comfort,” says showrunner Steve Blackman. “There’s a lightness, a lot more smiling.” For Page, returning to set has been validating, if awkward at times. Yes, people accidentally use the wrong pronouns—“It’s going to be an adjustment,” Page says—but co-workers also see and acknowledge him.

The debate over whether cisgender people, who have repeatedly collected awards for playing trans characters, should continue to do so has largely been settled. However, trans actors have rarely been considered for cisgender parts. Whatever challenges might lie ahead, Page seems exuberant about playing a new spectrum of roles. “I’m really excited to act, now that I’m fully who I am, in this body,” Page says. “No matter the challenges and difficult moments of this, nothing amounts to getting to feel how I feel now.”

This includes having short hair again. During our interview, Page keeps rearranging strands on his forehead. It took a long time for him to return to the barber’s chair and ask to cut it short, but he got there. And how did that haircut feel?

Page tears up again, then smiles. “I just could not have enjoyed it more,” he says.”

#suicide m #transphobia m #Elliot Page #transgender #representation #celebrities #actors #tv #movies #rep #trans #transmasculine #nonbinary #queer #long post

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theweasleysredhair · 4 years

Text

Breathless [F.W.]

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 2783

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: “Stop biting that fucking lip!” In which Y/n is a sales assistant working in the Weasley’s store; Fred likes her but finds it difficult to show this, especially since all he wants to do is to throw her against a wall and shag her.

WARNING: this is NSFW, 18+, smutty, sexy times, idk how else to say it. read with caution. or delight. idk anymore.

Tags: @gracemayhateyou @wand3ringr0s3 @theweirdsideofstuff @harrysweasleys @thoseofgreatambition

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: I DID A THING (Fred Weasley is one hot motherfucker just saying)

also this was supposed to be a drabble... oops?

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

Fred wondered why he had hired you.

Well he knew why he had - because you were amazing at your job - but right now, as he watched you, bent slightly at the waist, interacting with some young children who had entered the shop, he severely regretted his decision. The only reason for this was that, due to the nice summer weather, you had decided to wear a skirt. A form-fitting skirt. A skirt that made Fred’s pants a tad too form-fitting themselves.

It wasn’t your fault - the sun had come as a welcome change, prompting the majority of people to be wearing lighter clothes as they hurried through Diagon Alley, so as to beat the heat. You’d just happened to have chosen a skirt that made Fred wish he could bend you over the till counter and pull said skirt up to your waist.

He couldn’t help the way his eyes wandered down your form to the curve of your bum as you reached up to grab products for the customers you were with, or - even better - this morning when you had bent down to pick up something someone (Fred) had dropped. His heart was pounding from the thought, and he was still trying to live down the fact he’d had to ask to swap with George, who was behind the till, in order to hide a certain problem of his from customers and from you - something George had found hilarious, joking about it every time he passed his twin throughout the rest of the day - “Alright there, Freddie? Working hard are we?” - earning more than a few glares.

Merlin though, Fred wanted you. He wanted to be able to kiss you, hold you, love you openly. He wanted to ask you for your input on new inventions, to ask you for your opinion on anything - everything. To be the last one to kiss you at night and the first thing you saw in the morning. And he definitely wanted you in his bed. Or in the shower. Or against the wall.

Preferably all of the above.

He couldn’t remember when he first caught feelings - sometime during your years at Hogwarts, but Fred couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he realised he was in love with you as opposed to just loving you. Perhaps it was that one game of truth or dare that lead to you kissing him - a thought he savoured and thought back to a lot. The way your lips felt against his and how he was able to hold you close in that moment.

All he knew was that he was left breathless in your presence.

He spent the rest of the day with thoughts of you in his head, swirling around as he tried to focus on serving customers. This proved a difficult feat considering you were right by him on the shop floor - talking, laughing, smiling. Fred cursed himself for being so caught up on you, but he couldn’t help himself.

He was so wrapped up in watching the way your lips turned up into a smile, the way your hips swayed as you walked, imagining how they’d feel against his own that he nearly missed George bidding his goodbyes after the store had closed for the day - something about meeting Angelina - as he made himself busy tidying one of the stands near the entrance.

“Hey Fred?” You called from the storage room. Fred blinked, pulling his thoughts away from his fantasies and back into reality, “Yeah?”

There was silence for a moment, and Fred placed the vial he was holding back into its place before wandering over to the storage room just as you entered back onto the shop floor.

“George asked if we could find a place to put these new products,” you said, bringing out a couple of trays of a new product designed to give the taker the temporary ability to read minds.

Fred frowned slightly. He knew for a fact that this product was supposed to be set up at the weekend, not today, before he both cursed and thanked George mentally as he realised his twin had given him some time alone with you - and an excuse as to why.

You’d placed the trays down and began looking around the shop, trying to work out the best place to display them, absent-mindedly pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you did.

Fred’s gaze was directed at where your teeth met your lip and he swallowed, his jaw clenching as he imagined himself being the one biting your lip, and what sounds you’d make whilst he was doing so.

In his haze, he hadn’t realised you’d moved to the opposite side of the till counter, placing some other products you’d taken from another display down as you leant on the counter yourself. The movement caused Fred to glance over at you and his breath immediately hitched in his throat.

He could’ve sworn your top was buttoned all the way to your collar just moments ago and yet now, as you were leaning on your elbows on the counter as you spoke about the idea for the display you had, all he could focus on was the sight of the top of your breasts, in perfect view from the way your top had fallen as you’d leant.

“I suppose we could always move the love potions stand to the other side of the shop,” you looked up at Fred to see his response and instead were met with a soft gaze and no hint that he’d heard what you’d said. You raised your hand up in front of his face, an amused smile now playing on your lips as you watched him jump slightly, pulling him from whatever daydream he’d concocted in his head.

“I’m sorry, love, what we’re you saying?” He reaches up to stroke the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Were you not listening again?” You teased, giving him a playful eye roll. “I’m sorry, I was just distracted,” he replied.

“By what?”

Fred cleared his throat, not wanting to admit that he was very much imagining throwing you against the nearest wall and snogging the hell out of you. He instead changed the subject, he hoped subtly, as he returned his focus to the tray of products on the counter, “We could move the Pygmy puffs over and put the new stand nearer the front.”

“That could work,” you looked around and bit your lip in thought again, “Yeah and then we could move...”

But Fred’s focus was lost again. He knew he should be paying attention, that you’d beg him to know what had him so distracted but he couldn’t help it. Not when you were stood barely five feet in front of him, with your top practically unbuttoned and your skirt hugging your curves the way it was.

“What do you think?” You turned back to him happily, before seeing him in a trance again, “Um... Fred?”

Fred blinked, “Oh um yeah, yeah sure, sounds good!”

“Okay good! And then where should we move the snack boxes to...” And there you went again with the lip biting. Merlin, were you doing it on purpose? Could you tell how badly it was affecting him?

And suddenly Fred was only vaguely aware of you being mid sentence as he interrupted your planning with a growl, “Will you stop biting that fucking lip?!”

You jumped, a bewildered look dancing across your features, “What?”

“Stop. Biting. That. Fucking. Lip.” He spoke in a low tone that hit you between your legs and your mouth dropped slightly.

That’s when you saw it. His skin flushed, jaw clenched. His darkening eyes. Your own eyes wandered down his suit-clad arms, sleeves rolled to his elbows and displaying his toned forearms, knuckles white from gripping onto the counter.

You watched his tongue dart out to swipe across his bottom lip and nearly whimpered.

“Oh yeah? Or what?” You challenged him, purposely pulling your bottom lip between your teeth again.

“Or this!”

And suddenly Fred had slammed you against the nearest flat wall, his hands around your wrists as he easily pushed your arms up above your head. Your chests were pressed together, heaving from the deep breaths you were taking, his forehead resting on yours before he crashed his lips against your own.

He held onto your wrists with one hand, using the other to pull you closer to him by your hip, his tongue licking into your mouth as you moaned, completely taken by the man pressed against you. He ran his tongue across your bottom lip and gently nibbled, finally finding out what it felt like to bite your fucking lip.

You felt him through his pants, hard against your thigh as you sighed into his mouth, your hips rolling against his and making him let out a guttural moan.

He dropped his grip from your wrists just long enough to shake off his suit jacket, leaving him in his shirt as you ran your hands down his chest, revelling in the feel of his abs through the material.

His lips were still on yours, as if he was trying to imprint the feel of kissing you into his brain forever. In case this was a one time thing. In case it never happened again.

And then suddenly his mind was taken over by the feeling of your hands on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt as his own hands ran along the skin underneath your own shirt, fingertips reaching up to dance along the base of your bra, his hands gripping your back as you worked to take each others’ clothing off.

You pulled away for just a moment, pulling your shirt over your head as Fred did the same, throwing your bra somewhere in the middle of the floor, instantly forgotten as Fred put his hands back on you.

You shimmied your skirt down before making quick work of getting Fred out of his pants, mouth almost watering when you saw his hard cock pressing against the material of his boxers.

He pushed his lips back on yours, holding your bum as your hands reached around his neck to pull at the tufts of hair there, earning what you could only describe as a growl from him.

“Tell me to stop,” he groaned, taking in the sight of you, breathless and writhing under him.

“What if... I don’t want... you to stop,” you gasped as his mouth ghosted down your jaw, pressing the occasional open mouthed kiss to your skin.

“You want me to keep going?” He asked, sucking at the skin just below your jawline. “I want you to make me feel good,” you said as you stared up into his dark eyes.

“Darling, I can make you feel better than good,” Fred promised with a smirk.

His lips were then busy licking down your neck, towards your chest and he gently teased a nipple into his mouth, nibbling and earning breathy moans from you. One hand gripped your bum as the other held the back of your thigh, slowly moving round and under your skirt as he lightly ran a finger along the lace of your underwear. “This wet just for me?” He grinned, pulling away from your breast to meet your gaze as you nodded breathlessly, “All for you, Freddie.”

“I like the sound of that,” he replied as he moved to your other breast, giving it the same attention as he hooked a finger under the band of your underwear.

He began trailing kisses down your stomach and then kneeled before you, slowly pulling your underwear down your legs before pausing, looking up at you, “These expensive?”

“I can buy more.”

And with that, he ripped them from your legs, throwing them off to the side, falling somewhere with your discarded shirts.

His warm breath hit between your legs and he gripped your thighs before plunging his tongue inside of you, licking into you and making you gasp. The sound you made when he gently bit your clit was downright filthy, and you swore you could feel Fred smirking against you. He pushed his fingers into you, lazily thrusting them in and out as you leant against the wall, eyes closing in pleasure.

Just as you felt yourself getting close, your breathing staggered as you edged towards your climax, Fred decided to pull away from you, the cold air hitting you suddenly, making you open your eyes and you whimpered at the loss of contact.

“Look at you, being so needy. My needy girl, huh? I’ll make you cum, don’t worry, I’m just... dragging it out a little,” Fred smirked as he stood up, his fingers suddenly entering you again but this time only moving slowly.

You desperately thrust your hips into his hand, hoping for more friction, sighing frustratedly as he tutted and removed his hand completely.

He stepped away from you, pulling his underwear off and you finally caught the sight of his cock, long and thick, precum covering the tip. He grabbed himself, slowly stroking himself as he stepped back towards you.

“Can I..?” You spoke, your eyes following his hands. “Be my guest, princess.”

Fred could’ve died happy, he thought, with your pretty lips around his cock, your hands pumping what wouldn’t fit into your mouth, letting out groans as your tongue swirled around the tip.

He felt himself twitch, when suddenly you’d pulled away and he knew as he watched you stand up with your swollen lips curling into a smile that it was your way of paying him back for denying you yours before.

“Dangerous game you’re playing here, love,” He warned, stepping towards you.

“I’m playing to win,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest and absent-mindedly pushing your breasts up with the action.

Fred groaned, “I need to be inside of you.”

His hands were back on you, kissing you again before he guided himself to push inside of you. You both groaned together, breaths hitting the other as he thrusted up into you, pinning you against the wall. He grabbed your waist, his muscles flexing, sweat beading along his collarbone as you leant forward to kiss his neck, biting the spot under his ear that made him suddenly moan and his hips stutter.

“Look at you, taking my cock so well,” he breathed out, his abs tightening with every push into you.

He then nodded over to the till counter just behind you, “See that counter? I’ve been thinking about bending you over it all day.”

“Then why don’t you?” You gasped out your breath hitching in your throat as he gave a particularly deep thrust.

Without a reply, he pulled out of you, making you whimper at the empty feeling, before pulling you over to the counter quickly. He shoved the product trays onto the floor, unbothered by them crashing to the floor as he pressed a rough, dirty kiss to your lips before turning you around and bending you over like he’d imagined so many times before. His hands roamed across your bum, squeezing before pushing back into you and making you cry out.

His hands were on your waist as he pounded into you, before he reached around to pull you up so your back hit his chest, both of you glancing towards the large front window of the shop.

“Anyone could come by and see us, but you don’t care about that do you? Just as long as I keep making you feel good,” he growled in your ear, and you felt yourself clench around his cock, earning a groan from him.

“Freddie,” you whispered, your head falling back against his shoulder as you felt your stomach tightening, building up to your release, “I’m gonna- I’m gonna-“

“There’s a good girl,” Fred praised, a hand running up your stomach to hold one of your breasts, “You’re so good to me. Come for me, princess.”

You let out a moan as your climax washed over you, collapsing forward onto the counter as Fred thrusted into you a couple more times before releasing inside of you, gripping your hips as he groaned, his head falling against the back of your neck as you both tried to catch your breath.

“I love you,” he mumbled, his lips tracing across your back and down your shoulder. And in that moment, as you were coming down from your high, whispering the words back to him, you knew this was the start of something that neither of you were prepared for.

After all, you left each other breathless.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley smut #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #weasley twins #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins imagines #harry potter

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sylverstorms · 3 years

Text

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity

Three months, two days and seven hours.

That is how long you’ve been in Dimitrescu castle for. If rumor is to be believed, you are well on your way to setting the year’s record for longest living maid. Well. ‘Maid’, according to their perception. Your mind always automatically corrects it to something more fitting:

Prisoner.

You did not choose to work for them. You did not choose to be in this godforsaken place, cleaning crimson stains off the floors, trying to convince yourself the wailing that sometimes reaches your ears is simply the wind. You never would have imagined your life’s end like this, serving wine –no, who are you kidding, it’s too crimson for that— to the Dimitrescus at dinner until one of them snaps and drives the nearest blade into your throat.

Probably Daniela.

It’s not unheard of. And stories of other maids’ murders are plenty.

Daniela has bitten one’s throat off for the crime of addressing her wrongly. Cassandra has left increasingly deep gashes, some of which resulted in deaths, for random offenses, like staring at her for too long. Bela, arguably the more merciful of the three, has snapped necks only when the staff disrespected her sisters’ names, or her mother’s.

You aren’t sure if you want to thank the older maids for this information or yell at them for the nightmares it has caused you. You are lucky to not be in the village, they say –everyone there must already be dead. You are even luckier to have been taken from the dungeon by the Lady herself. It means the daughters don’t know you and the castle is big enough that they may never spare you a glance.

You hadn’t believed it, at first.

Yet in the three months of your stay, you have never come across anyone other than Bela in the sections you were assigned to clean and polish. She passed you by the hallway like she did the decorations and the furniture –and you couldn’t be happier about it. You have caught scarce glimpses of Alcina Dimitrescu, too. Never the other two residents.

Not until the fateful day another maid disappears and the staff’s assigned posts change. You have no say in it and no power to object.

May as well keep my head down and continue to work as carefully as I have. That is the idea. Not to look too much, or think too much, or feel too much. Avoid mistakes because those in the castle are fatal.

It is a little difficult to remain utterly calm when the sound of swarming insects comes from far behind you, though.

Your blood starts to kick in your veins. Your heart wants to jump out of your chest and make a run for it. You lock your muscles down and summon all the willpower you possess to stay focused on your task.

Please be Bela, please, please, be Bela—

The buzzing dies down. Steps approach you in the otherwise silent hallway. They are too light to be Bela’s. You’re probably screwed, you think, but you keep cleaning the surface in front of you until it’s practically a mirror with how it shines.

The steps halt too close to you for comfort. Out of the corner of your eye, you realize they’ve left bloody imprints on the floor you’ve been polishing for hours now. Dainty, pale fingers are wrapped loosely, almost lazily, around a sickle dripping crimson.

“Never seen you around, before.” the sound of her voice makes you freeze.

You stop and turn— to face none other than Cassandra Dimitrescu. Her hood is down, brunette waves on point, the dried blood at her chin a terrible contrast to her otherwise attractive face. You… didn’t know she was that pretty, up close.

“I… I have been here for three months. On the opposite wing.” you say. Was I even supposed to reply? You’ll find out soon enough, if your tongue is still attached to your body.

Her eyes give you a quick once-over. “Bela’s been keeping you a secret, huh.” she tsks. Her free hand goes to the handle of the door next to you… and only then do you realize it must be her bedroom. You’re literally assigned to clean the wolf’s den. “Come wake me up when the sun has set, completely.” she emphasizes.

What.

“Uh—”

The crimson-dyed sickle moves until its blade rests underneath your chin, lifting it so your eyes meet hers. From this angle, under the pale lighting of dawn, they look more –stunning— blue than inhuman gold. “No loud sounds. No lights. Got it?”

How can you not, when your life depends on it?

“Yes, my lady.” you reply. You don’t even dare draw breath.

“Good.” In one swift movement, the sickle is gone, the handle turned and she’s already shedding her robe.

You catch a glimpse of a black corset and a narrow waist before you avert your eyes.

The door shuts.

...

Waking Cassandra up can be… tricky, the other maids tell you.

She detests light when she opens her eyes but she also doesn’t want it to be pitch black. You’re not supposed to talk but you can’t shake her, either. Which brings you to the very logical question:

“What the hell am I supposed to do, then?”

To which they have no answer.

They have no answer, you realize with a start… because there’s nobody alive to tell the tale of how to actually wake the brunette sleeping beauty up without simultaneously signing their own death sentence.

The hours pass both too slow and too fast. The sun sets over the horizon.

And you stand, riddled with nerves, outside Cassandra’s room.

A deep inhale later, you turn the handle. The door is left half-open so a bit of light comes in from the hallway. Her bedroom smells like shampoo, bath salts and spices. She must have taken a shower before she went to sleep. You approach the figure tucked under the silken sheets of the queen-sized bed…

Cassandra is lying on her side, one hand underneath her pillow, the other extended loosely towards the edge of the mattress. She probably sleeps naked, at least from the waist up, but thankfully the covers are wrapped around her chest. Their royal red color makes a stark contrast against the paleness of her skin.

Her face is so… serene.

She is a monster and a sadistic killer, yet right there you can’t deny she looks more like a renaissance painting.

Now onto the hard part.

“My lady… the sun has set.” you whisper, kneeled on the floor beside her. No movement comes. “Hey… I’m here to wake you up?” you try again. Still nothing. Shakily, you bring your hand up to the bed. Not daring to touch her, you leave it beside hers, over the covers. “Cassandra?”

She turns her face deeper into her pillow –no, no, you don’t think it’s cute, what’s wrong with you— but at least she’s finally reacting. You call her name one more time.

Her nose scrunches up a little. Long fingers flex –and they touch yours. She’s cold. A pair of blueish ambers blink open to regard you. Not with malice, or with annoyance.

“Good evening.” you speak, unsure of what else to say.

A smirk slowly curves her lips. She looks like a lazy cat pondering whether or not it’s worth it to pounce and that’s not good. It’s not good, not ‘hot’ like your mind suggests. God, you’ve been in this castle so long you are starting to get messed up.

“Mm, breakfast in bed.” she grins and licks her lower lip sexily. Your eyes fly wide open, but her hand is already gripping the front of your black shirt, trapping you there.

How could you ever find this psycho attractive?! you get mad at yourself. Is she hot now that she’s going to kill you?

But Cassandra only lets out an airy laugh and releases you. You fall backwards on your behind. “Breathe, darling, I’m joking.” She rolls onto her back and seems to wince from it. Her smile vanishes.

“…does… your back hurt?” you ask when you finally find your voice again.

“Ugh, a Lycan landed a hit on me. He’s pieces now, of course, but my muscles still pull.” she says it casually, like it’s a thing that happens.

Silence falls over the room. You take it as your cue to leave. You stand and bow while she’s looking blankly at the ceiling—

But she stops you.

“Wait. Come here.” you don’t like it when she gets that tone, like she came up with something she cannot wait to try. You’re already close to the bed, you’re not sure what she means. Until she pats the spot right next to her. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You won’t. You know what’s good for you.

Hesitantly, you take a seat on the –admittedly very comfortable— mattress. “Yes, lady?”

“Give me a massage.” she says like it’s your job, like she’s the rich woman in a spa and it’s what’s expected. She turns onto her front, bearing her naked back to you and you have less than five seconds to come to terms with the thought of straddling her.

Carefully, you bring your knees on either side of her thighs and pull the sheets so they rest low at her waist. You feel warmer than you should given the temperature of the castle. If she knows the fine teasing line she’s walking, she is loving every inch of it.

Cassandra loves being the center of attention and she loves being pampered, you realize.

It’s probably amusing to her to make you fluster, but this is also an opportunity for you to get on her good graces. She is a dangerous one and it’ll be a great asset for your survival if she’s leaning favorably towards you. Win-win situation. You just have to be good at your job. Like always.

By some miracle of God, you do know how to work the tension out of muscles.

The first time you touch her, you simply rest your hands on her back to warm it. She doesn’t seem to object, from the way lean muscle stretches out under your fingers. Cassandra feels cool, but not hard like marble. Her skin yields under your touch, soft and smooth.

As you apply more pressure to your stokes, she starts to let out little sighs that you have to mute in your mind before they start to affect you. You’ve been high-strung and without sex for too long. Your body all too eagerly intercepts this death-trap as foreplay.

Minutes roll by.

You alternate between all the methods you know. The one that really seems to get her is when you drive your thumb into the knots and end with a little circle.

Cassandra is –God help you— openly moaning every time you press more. It is a bit too much pressure you’re applying though and you don’t know if you’re hurting her and she’s just into it.

“Is this too much…?” you ask. Fuck, why do you sound so breathless?

“No, it’s good.” she husks back.

“Harder?” You don’t know what innocent means, anymore.

Cassandra sends that little smirk again over her shoulder. “Harder.” she replies and the extra flair she puts into it is enough to nearly fry your brain. And other parts of you.

You’re pretty sure you need a cold shower by the time you leave her room.

...

At diner, you hang back in the shadows, gaze downcast.

You do not need to know what the Dimitrescu family is eating, nor what they’re drinking. You do not need to see Cassandra or risk catching Daniela’s gaze. You love your anonymity in the castle. It has kept you alive.

But it is shattered like frail glass when you bring another bottle of Sanguis Virginis to the table. You’ve almost retreated back to your place, when Daniela’s eyes zero in on you.

“She’s the human!” she exclaims like she’s made the world’s most startling discovery. Bela seems to understand, but the Lady and Cassandra frown over their glasses.

“I am almost afraid to ask, love.” Lady Alcina says…

And she’s right.

“The one who made Cassandra go ‘harder’ and ‘yes, yes!’ earlier this evening.” she impersonates in her sluttiest voice and then breaks into a fit of cackles. Bela’s lip twists into a withheld chuckle.

Lady Dimitrescu nearly chokes on her wine.

Cassandra slaps the back of Daniela’s head. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Girls.” Alcina warns and glares until the table calms again.

Then, her eyes curiously fall upon you.

So much for your anonymity.

Ko-Fi

#Cassandra Dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu's daughters #cassandra x oc #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #fanfiction #cass kills with her hair and nails on point she's the murder-princess type #you can't change my mind #I love her

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theregoesmylurkerstatus · 3 years

Text

So... I have a lot of thoughts on the finale. I've deliberately kept my mouth shut, more or less, on the campaign overall because I'm a firm believer that you can't pass judgement -- at least not complete judgement -- on stories until they're over and done with.

Well, it's done! Kind of crazy. I've been watching Critical Role with almost insane consistency, viewing almost every single episode live, with maybe five-ish exceptions, since episode 19, and I've been blogging it for, what, two and a half years?

It's a weird feeling. It's been such a constant thing for me that I'm always gonna have love for it and remember with a lot of fondness.

...Which is in spite of the fact that I can now comfortably say I'm pretty eh on the ending. I know not being positive about something most of us have loved a lot for a very long time can sting a bit, but I personally think it also stings when people relentlessly crow over how good they think it is or want it to be, to the point where you feel you can't voice your absolutely valid upsets or dissatisfactions. So, here goes, if anyone's interested! I'd be curious to see other opinions, too!

I actually drafted a post talking about my overall frustrations with the campaign a whole two weeks ago, and then scrapped most of it when 140 blew me out of the water. I was really touched, and really happy. I hadn't expected it, but it shockingly felt right, you know?

Unfortunately 141 robbed me of most of that satisfaction and brought me right back to neutral.

The blanket statement you have to make, of course, is that you can’t criticise this as a DnD game, and you can’t be mad at the cast for playing it in a way they think is best for them. They’re the players, Matt’s the DM, and in the end it makes no sense for them to try to make themselves act how they think the audience wants them to, and I’m sure most of the audience wouldn’t like the result anyway.

That said, there is an audience. And that’s where I see this clash coming in. As a DnD game, as long as the players and DM have all enjoyed it and been satisfied, it’s a successful game! But for us, it’s not a DnD game. For us, we’re watching a story be written in real time through the medium of an RPG. And while as a DnD game you can’t fault it, as a piece of media, I completely get why the way things have gone has sat weirdly for a lot of people.

It's not satisfying to see so many character hooks dealt with so quickly or left as an offscreen "and then you do it." If they don't want to keep playing to dive into it, absolutely, but for us who have been watching this as a story with all these character elements get so built up, it's a huge anti-climax.

Which is a lot of what this campaign has been, really.

Oh, Nott’s cursed! But through a really cool character moment that problem is completely taken care of with no consequences we see. Yay, I want her to be Veth and that was an iconic move from Jester! Still, it kind of feels like this was built up to be a big problem and at the first success it was let go... Caleb's got a really intense frightening past he tries to hide, I wonder how the Mighty Nein will respond? Oh, they found out, but it's not a difficult revelation for anyone. Looks like it's easy for them to move past it and forgive. Yeah, that's healthiest for the characters, but huh, kinda undercuts it as a storyline or point of interest. Oooh, Avantika’s back! Ah, they’ve killed her and grabbed the eye again. I mean I don’t want them to die or for Uk’otoa to be free, but I’m starting to feel like that’s not much of a threat anyway. The Traveler’s been kidnapped! Nah he hasn’t, he tried to save Jester so he was let go with no further issue, and also he wasn’t actually in any danger anyway. Oh... Cool. So... Why should I care or be worried?

And these are just the biggest ones I remember being kind of let down by. I wanted to see them STRUGGLE for the successes to have meaning. To my view, threats of failure -- real failure -- really decreased the more the campaign went on, with a few exceptions.

Because don't get me wrong, we've definitely had struggles, and those have made for some of the best moments! Molly’s death, Yasha’s kidnapping, Yeza’s imprisonment. When failures that were threatened are allowed to occur, it’s far more gratifying when it’s followed by success, because you understand that that success was actually necessary. It shows us that what they do really means something.

Honestly, that's why the final battle really shut me up, because nothing makes you quite feel stakes and failure like having two PCs die, and having a resurrection ritual fail -- AND knowing that failure would be delivered on, had it not been for a seemingly miraculous roll of the dice to turn it around. One of the greatest failure's -- Molly's death -- made the success of his resurrection put a lot of my other issues to rest immediately, because to be honest? Molly's resurrection was the biggest success of the campaign, exactly because it was originally the biggest failure.

But this episode, we got to see the other side of making threats and successes feel disappointing -- when you get the impression that success was robbed from you. Again, their characters, their choices, but to have them roll an intervention to get Molly's soul, to convince Molly to come back with his own possessions they've so loved, after so long and so many struggles... only to apparently not get Molly at all?

Changed, of course. Memories, maybe he'd never get them back, though that seems inconsistent to how the initial resurrection was played and Matt's hints. It even makes sense that not having his memories and being a bit different, he might forge a new identity, but insisting Molly was a different person entirely after such a supposed hard won success to get Molly back, especially after what his death meant to the audience and potentially healing that old wound? It robs the narrative of a LOT of catharsis, at least for me and I know many others.

Trent, too, I'm very up and down on. He was so built up -- and what fun that build up had -- and I very much disagreed with the idea that the best story would be dealing with him offscreen.

It's true that you don’t need to explicitly address, confront, or explore every big aspect of character's story hooks and background ties for PCs to move past them and grow healthily. But that does not make it a satisfying viewing experience. People quietly healing in real life is healthy. People quietly healing in an explosive fantasy setting is frustrating for the audience.

What on earth is the point of a story if you don’t get to SEE THE ESTABLISHED CONFLICTS go anywhere? A lot of the characters got distant, quiet resolutions, if that, to everything we wanted to see.

Except, we did get to see Trent. It was a really fun, inventive battle, from opening to conclusion, but much like Travelercon, much like Nott's/Veth's problem with the hag, these were things that the audience in general wanted to see be really dug into and explored, and every single one of them got, in my opinion, quickly tidied up instead. Trent got beaten in the first and only proper battle they had with him, which, after all his build up, is pretty disappointing for a villain many of us wanted to see be a big deal. It really just felt like they were trying to tidy up to get on with the epilogue, which is not what a lot of us were looking for with Trent especially.

And that's how most of their endings felt to me. It didn't feel like any of them had reached a comfortable conclusion. Literally all of them, bar Veth and Caduceus, continued on their character journey threads, without each other and very quickly. Meeting Yasha's tribe and Vandran, Caleb finally openly debating changing time for his parents, Trent and Zeenoth's trials and the changing of the guard at the Assembly... All were things it would have been so fun to have all the PCs react to and explore together, and instead they were fleeting encounters in the latter half of a seven hour finale.

Is all this, from Molly not really coming back to Trent being a finale side plot to the Nein continuing on their individual journeys, potentially realistic to how these fantastical things might go down in real life? Sure! But that's not necessarily a good thing.

Stories THRIVE on conflict and resolution. That’s what makes them FUN! Conflict isn’t nearly so fun in real life and resolutions are often frustrating question marks, so no, past a certain point I don’t WANT stories to be realistic. I want stories to be SATISFYING.

And campaign 2 has fallen far short of the mark.

I haven’t spoken... Basically a word of this for most of the campaign, because as I said I’m a firm believer that you can’t necessarily judge something until it’s over, and because I ALSO firmly believe that being negative WHILE trying to enjoy something is counterproductive. I have had no interest in spoiling or naysaying the fun of the campaign for anyone, least of all myself.

But it's done now, and all I can say is... I really have had fun. I love the characters. I love their relationships. I’m pretty okay with where they’ve ended up. I’m not mad, really, and I’m still going to think of this campaign with a lot of affection. But it hasn’t been a satisfying story, even though for a week following episode 140 I thought, despite all the brushed over story threads, it might be.

So... to try and reclaim some of that satisfaction for myself, I might ignore some aspects of the finale proper. Namely Kingsley specifically. Taliesin's choice -- but to me, it's pretty clear that who we saw at the end of 140 was Molly, and the tags on my posts will reflect that, just as my 141 tags will be for both Kingsley and Molly, for clarity's sake. I personally want to believe Molly did come back, however others might want to interpret it. The victory in 140 that meant so much to me is hollow otherwise, and it just kind of hurts that we would lose Molly after everything. I was okay with him being dead -- I'm not so okay with his resurrection being stolen.

Kingsley will always be canon, but Molly is what I choose to acknowledge. I get if you don't like that take, and that's okay! I didn't care for canon's in the end. That's the good thing about storytelling, is that no one can stop you from making your own versions.

For the people who are hopefully hyped for campaign 3, heck yeah have fun! I’m on the fence. My investment, which... I think I can objectively say was pretty substantive as this blog will attest, doesn't feel rewarded, so I’m not convinced I can faithfully keep up for over three years all over again with a strong possibility that I will once again be left disappointed. It's been a huge chunk of my life, and... yeah!

I’ll take a break, probably, view (and liveblog, if people want!) campaign 1 when I’ve had a mental stretch and vacation, and then... I might start campaign 3. I definitely won’t be able to put the same time in it I did campaign 2 (my first love no matter what), knowing that it’s likely to not be so vindicated, in the end.

I swear I’m actually writing this in fairly good humour, but I totally get its always disappointing when the people you come to for fandom enjoyment just aren't sharing your fun. Honestly I’m half tempted to write all those frigging AUs I have sitting around! But I wanted to say my piece, and try and logically outline why this ending has been lacklustre for so many people, ultimately myself included.

Episode 140 felt right because it felt like a natural conclusion -- these disparate people coming together and finally being whole, finally soothing the hurt that MADE them so long ago. Episode 141 spat on that sentiment -- they all scattered to the winds, not as happy people to live out their dreams, but as confused people chasing up loose threads towards an unknown future, with the friend they thought returned still lost to them, ultimately.

It doesn't feel like the ending we should have gotten for the Mighty Nine, who were finally, finally all together. Until they weren't. So to me? I choose to acknowledge that they were, even if I have to force it to happen post-epilogue in my head.

#critical role #cr spoilers #c2e141 #c2e140 #ramblings #long post #first time i've used that tag but i figure people should be able to block this if they want to!#molly #kingsley #trent ikithon #the mighty nein

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volleychumps · 4 years

Note

Hello!! Can I request for Bokuto, Oikawa, Ushijima, and Kuroo to you getting hit in the face by their spike or serve and like you pass out..? tysm I love your writing sm!!!! You’re my favorite writer on this app probably

:’)) These will be written before anything significantly romantic happens and they start dating, I hope you enjoy!!

Accidental Ambush w/ Bokuto, Oikawa, Ushijima, and Kuroo

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

Bokuto

“Bokuto-san, should you really be trying out a spike you’ve never tried before with full force?”

Akaashi Keiji sighs, watching with a tired stare as the nationally-known spiker grins, gold-eyes gleaming with excitement as the owl-haired boy spins the ball in his hands for good measure.

“Learn to live a little, Akaashi!! If I’m gonna be the bestest spiker in the world-”

“Bestest isn’t-”

“-then I’ve gotta have more tricks up my sleeve!”

The banter between the two had kept both boys occupied as you entered the gym, planning to grab the sneakers you left behind from practice with the girl’s basketball team. In doing so, you eye the two as the darker haired one finally obliges to set for the over-hyped boy, causing you to pause.

It wasn’t every day you got to see the skills of one of the top spikers in the nation up close. Realizing neither had noticed you, you hum, leaning against the wall as you think that it wouldn’t hurt to watch from a distance.

What you didn’t expect, however, was for the ball to come hurtling in your direction, so fast and uncontrolled you hadn’t even been able to react as the weight of the ball knocks you off your feet, feeling the ground hit your back as the impact causes you to begin to lose conciousness.

Bokuto Kotarou’s jaw drops as Akaashi’s slackens a little, both pairs of eyes widening as the last thing you hear is the sound of sneakers on the squeaky gym floor as Bokuto looks down at your limp figure in shock. The ball bounces away, leaving a trail of blood coming from out your nose.

“Shit! Shit Shit SHIT OH MY GOD DID I KILL HER?!”

“No, I...don’t think so.”

“THINK? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN BY ‘THINK’, KAASHI?!”

“Yelling won’t change the fact that you just hit one of the captains of the girl’s basketball team.”

“YOU SET THE BALL!”

“You wanted me to set it, so techinically, you did this.”

Bokuto’s golden eyes dim down a little, a wilt to his shoulders as he scoops you up carefully, guilt bouncing around his chest as he brushes some hair out of your face, Akaashi crossing his arms when Bokuto seems to gaze at your face for a second.

“Um...are you gonna take her to the nurse, or is something supposed to happen-”

“Right! Right, the nurse.”

When you finally gain conciousness, your first reaction is to sit up quickly, groaning as soon as you did. What the hell happened?

You blink when you’re immediately pushed back down again, but slower and gentler this time as the owl-haired boy in front of you gives you a nervous grin, golden eyes looking a tad sad as he begins to ramble.

“You’re awake!! Do you want money? I can buy your lunch! Shoot shoot, uh...a goldfish! How about I buy you a goldfish?”

His words are a tad difficult to process as you blink once, then twice before realizing he had been holding a warm towel to your nose, pink staining the white material as it indicates you had bled. You smile a small grin, pushing his wrist away as Bokuto rubs the back of his neck guiltily.

“Bokuto...is it? Uh, I’m okay. Really.” You assure him, telling the truth. Most of the pain had faded away, and you were left with a dull throb in your head. “I just really wanted to see you spike, I should’ve made myself known..”

“Really?” Bokuto’s eyes widen the slightest bit. “You wanted to see me spike?”

“Yeah, that’s weird, right?” You laugh awkwardly, looking off to the side. “You’re one of the most talented players in our age range, right?”

Bokuto swallows, feeling heat rush to his cheeks as he sees you, slightly bloody nose and all, smile as if he hadn’t just socked you in the face with a volleyball as you openly compliment him to his face.

The words rush out before Bokuto can think twice. “Do you...want to?”

“Want to...see you spike?” You arch a brow, surprised as Bokuto nods brightly as he grins, putting the warm towel on your nose again as he brushes some hair out of your face to keep it from getting wet. “I can make a private showing just for you as my apology! I’d just need to get your number...and your name...”

“Y/N.” You attempt to push the towel away again, only for Bokuto to catch your hand, slowly intertwining his fingers with yours as he gives you a half-grin.

“Whaddya say we make it a date, Y/N?”

“Depends, are you gonna hit me again?”

“I’ll definitely be hitting on you, that’s for sure.”

Akaashi Keiji fights the urge to roll his eyes as he closes the door quietly to the nurses office, wondering how the hell his best friend managed to turn the situation into an opportunity to get a cute date.

Oikawa

“Ladies, remember: if you’re gonna hit it, hit it until it breaks.”

“Lame as hell.”

“Iwa-chan, I’ll give you my attention in a second, okay?”

Oikawa Tooru misses the flicked off finger in his direction as he continues to talk up his group of fans, grinning his playboy grin at all of them in the middle of the lunch period. Hanamaki coughs as he approaches the middle of the courtyard, choking back a laugh as he examines the situation.

“Is he really showing them how to serve a volleyball like they actually care?”

“At least he’s not talking to us.” Matsukawa shrugs, boredly watching as well. “I say it’s a win-win situation.”

“Show us, Oikawa-Kun!”

“Yeah, let us see your famous serve up close!”

“Girls, girls...” Oikawa puts his finger to his lips, winking once. “Promise to keep it a secret?”

“Hey now...he’s not actually gonna hit it, right?” Iwaizumi sits up fully, drinking his melon juice as he sees his childhood friend actually take position, causing Iwa to choke.

“Oi, shittykawa, is that really the best-?” Iwaizumi questions through a fit of coughs, but doesn’t manage to finish his thought as Oikawa’s already running to hit the volleyball already set into the air as he hits it towards a space with no students-

or so he thought.

Through a herd of squeals and praises, chocolate brown eyes widen as your figure enters the direct line of fire, time seeming to slow down as you manage to turn in question at the sound, only for your jaw to slacken.

The sounds of his fans drown out to Oikawa’s ears as the ball hits you straight in the face, causing you to stumble confusedly as you feel your face go numb, pain slowly taking its’ place afterwards. The distance doesn’t allow the setter to pinpoint exactly who you are, but he begins to move without thinking.

Oikawa is careless as he pushes aside the girls surrounding him, legs moving so fast before breaking into a run just in time to catch you from falling into the grass. He blinks once, eyes in shock at what he had just done, all to show off for some girls.

He watches the tears prick your eyes, eyes beginning to flutter shut as his rushed thought process doesn’t realize just who he hit.

“I-I’m so sorry, I-”

Oikawa feels a lump grow in his throat as your lips form a simple, yet meaningful smile as the colors in your vision begin to close in on you, his panicked mind still trying to register who exactly he had harmed.

It’s okay. Your smile seemed to have meant.

Weren’t you mad? Shouldn’t you be angered that this stuck up pretentious playboy had nailed you right in the face with the oh-so famous serve known to make half the teams in his district tremble at the thought of it?

“Congrats.” Oikawa feels a familiar hand clasp his shoulder to see Iwaizumi looking down at your now unconcious figure. “You just hit the school sweetheart square in the face.”

“S-School sweetheart? Shit, wait, Y/N?!” Chocolate orbs widen with realization as his adrenaline-rushed mind finally registers.

Iwa grins a tad sadistically as Oikawa gapes at the beauty in his arms, now slightly bruised and passed out because of his doing as the setter carefully picks you up, regret brimming his eyes.

“The one girl in the school you wanted, and you had to hit her? Nice.”

Ushijima

“WATCH OUT!”

You don’t have time to do anything of the sort as you had just slid the door open to the entrance of Shiratorizawa’s volleyball club practice room just as Ushijima had nailed another practice spike, this one hitting the inner court so hard it had rebounded back out of control in another direction.

That direction just so-happening to be yours.

The papers meant for the advisor slip out of your grasp as you try to process what had just happened, hearing the once boisterous gym drain of noise as the ball hits you square in the face. You had known of Ushijima’s scarily powerful spikes, but you had no idea the rebound back could feel like a ton of bricks.

Ushijima seems to still in place as you faint backwards, eyes widening the tiniest fraction as the rest of the team surround your now blacked out figure, bruise forming on your nose along with a trail of blood. The powerful male slowly raises his hand to examine his palm, eyes betraying no emotion.

He had done that...to a girl?

“I-Is she dead?” Goshiki whispers as Subaru nudges him, nodding over to a staring Ushijima as he takes in what he had done.

“Y’all are such babies.” Tendou yawns, walking over to begin to wrap your arm around his neck. “She wouldn’t die from something like a rebound, but if it had been the real thing-”

“Shut up, you ginger.” Semi begins to take your other arm before the culprit’s voice makes him freeze in place.

“No.” Ushijima’s steps manage to silent the team as they, excluding Tendou and Semi, all take a subconcious step back. They watch in bewilderment as Ushijima takes your unconcious figure with a gentleness they didn’t know he possessed, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lifts you into a piggy-back position.

“I’ll take her. Continue practice.”

Ushijima ignores the gapes and questioning stares as he walks out of the volleyball room, never had left practice early before for any reason.

As he walks, feeling your even breaths against the back of his neck as he carries you easily to the nurse, he wonders just what he would say to you when you came to in addition to his apology.

The stranger on his back seems to shuffle a bit, causing the ace’s steps to slow to a stop.

“W-What...?”

“I’m sorry, but try not to sleep. We have to make sure your head’s alright.” Ushijima says straight forwardly, blinking when you hum in agreement, still seeming to be out of it as you nuzzle your face into his neck.

“Okay...”

Before Ushijima can tell you not to do that, your next words make him press his lips together.

“You’re a lot nicer than you look, you know?” You seem to slur, head lolling on his shoulder. “Sweeter too.”

Thump.

Ushijima pauses for a few moments, beginning to walk again before stopping abruptly, grip on your legs relaxing as he feels your breathing even back out again.

Wait.

...thump?

Kuroo

“Kuroo, you’re hitting too hard.”

“I don’t care!” The captain fumes as he grabs another volleyball from the basket, throwing it up to slam it across the gym angrily. “Stupid sensei! I don’t even know if I’ll be able to play in the next game if I have to take those dumb classes.”

Kenma dodges the ball with a slight movement to his head as he doesn’t tear his gaze away from his console just as it hits the space next to his head. The setter looks up lazily as Kuroo grabs another.

“I’m telling you, you’re-”

Kenma’s cut off when he hits the ball again, this time not even bothering to put a spin of direction on it when it suddenly gets slammed outside a nearby open window, followed by a yell of pain. The two childhood friends exchange looks, Kenma getting to his feet with a sigh as Kuroo rushes outside.

“I told you so.”

Kuroo’s footsteps bring him to the point of contact, eyes widening at the sight of someone he recognizes leaning on the building for support, a hand rubbing your cheek as tears prick the corners of your eyes.

“Shit! Are you okay?” Kuroo questions hastily as the captain’s heart beats in fear. How could he lose control of his power like that? The two friends watch, one less worried than the other, as you wave it off, laughing a little with a blush on your features.

Kuroo breathes out the anxiety in his chest at your laugh, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards the slightest bit as you go to say something-

The smile on your face seems to fade as you lurch forward, the impact of the spiked volleyball finally processing in your body as Kuroo catches you swiftly, anxiety back in his chest.

“Hm. Well, have fun with that.”

“K-Kenma, what?!”

Kuroo sighs, annoyed at his best friend as he walks off carelessly, leaving you in the hands of the captain, who looks down at you guiltily before scooping you back up in his arms and back into the empty practice room.

When you come to, the first thing you see are the eyes of the captain, ice pack on your forehead as you realize your head had been placed in his lap, Kuroo nursing you until you had woken up.

Startled, you sit up quickly, his forehead colliding with yours as the ice pack falls into your lap. You share a groan, and you scramble out of his hold with a redness to your cheeks that the raven-haired captain couldn’t pinpoint.

“That couldn’t have felt good.” Kuroo frowns, a hand reaching out to touch your forehead before you turn away, causing him to arch a brow.

“Sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?” The captain questions the victim of his doing, and you laugh a little too loudly.

“U-Um! Nope, I’ve just got to uh- feed my shark-”

Kuroo catches your arm before you can go, pulling you back down gently.

“Do I need to kiss you or something to make you stay still?”

The capain catches on as a pink hue takes over your cheeks as you do as your told, a smirk tickling the corner of his lips.

“Y/N L/N, right?”

“You know my name?” You squeak, only prompting Kuroo to come even closer as his feral eyes seem to keep you from running.

“I heard through the grapevine someone of the sort had a crush on me all of last year.”

You blanch, finding movement in your legs again as you ignore the dull throb in your head. Kuroo puts an arm on the opposite side of you, resting it on the bleacher as he leans even closer, seeming to trap you.

“What I didn’t hear however,”

The ice pack in your lap continued to melt.

“Was that the girl who liked me was this cute.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu anime #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu bokuto #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa toru #haikyuu ushijima #ushijima #haikyuu ushiwaka #haikyuu kuroo x reader #Kuroo Tetsurou #haikyuu kuroo

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primergon · 3 years

Note

KINDA ANGSTY SCENARIO REQUEST: how would the tfp bots or cons (or both if you can) be at raising their child after loosing their human conjux, how would the loss affect them and the way they take care of the kid(s)? (sorry for any grammar mistakes, English is not my first language)

A/N: Thank you for sending this in Anon! Don't worry about your english, it's really good ! I'm going to the Autobots for your ask and if a lot of people enjoy this then I'll make a part two with the Decepticons! I hope that's alright <3

1. Whether it was under the influence of the matrix or not, Optimus had always wanted a sparkling. There were stories of how the matrix encourages its bearer to create life, a survival instinct crafted by the old gods to ensure that the Cybertronian race persevered. Yet even when he was still an archivist, Orion had always wanted to raise a bitlet. Therefore, even if he grieves over the loss of his conjunx, he was still the doting father. Even if Optimus was constantly torn between his responsibilities as both a leader and a father, he always seemed to make time for both. He would teach them the alphabet and read them bedtime stories, and Optimus was an expert in balancing discipline and encouragement since he used to take young soldiers under his wing. There was a familiar ache against his spark when he realizes the baby had inherited their carrier's optic colour. Whenever the sparkling cries at night, he would scoop them up in his arms gently. Cooing and rocking the little bitlet until they fall asleep. Whenever things get too difficult for Optimus, he would always look up to wonder if his conjunx is watching them. It warms his spark to know that his little sparkling will grow up just to be like their carrier. It gives him all the more reason to win this war.

2. Your death change Bumblebee. Even after the war ended and he had his voice back, it was as if the light inside him had dimmed. He turned quiet and mostly kept to himself. If it wasn't for the little sparkling you both had together, Bumblebee wouldn't have healed properly. He pushed himself to continue for your bitlet's sake, always striving to be the best father. He often seeks Optimus for advice, and when he wasn't there, Arcee and Bulkhead were more than happy to help out. Even Ultra Magnus is open to giving the Scout advice. The war sometimes makes people forget just how young Bumblebee was. He was old enough to have children of course, but he was way too young to be widowed. And so he and his sparkling learned from one another, and parenthood was a different kind of challenge for him. But the moment the baby wraps their little hand around his finger, Bumblebee knew that all the sleepless nights were worth it. He just wished you were here to see the little sparkling fall asleep against his arm.

3. Bulkhead didn't hide his grief. He would openly talk about you to his sparkling, trying to hold back tears as he remembered all the good memories you shared. He was an excellent father, even if he sometimes doubts it. Wheeljack would often remind him that he's doing amazing, even offering to babysit the bitlet while Bulkhead gets some rest. The wrecker often gets angry at the world for being unfair, for taking you away from him, from your baby. Going as far as to punch holes into the metal walls of the base. Yet, the gentle giant made sure his sparkling would never see that side of him. Always affectionate and attentive to the bitlet that reminds him so much of you. Miko would let the bitlet sit on her lap, playing with her while Bulkhead watches nearby. He often visits your grave with the baby, talking to you as if you were there to listen - and Bulkhead knows, somewhere up there, you were listening.

4. Angry. Arcee was upset, frustrated and so very angry. The world keeps on taking and taking from her. It broke her heart to know that her bitlet would grow up in such a cruel world. Yet, the moment she looks into their eyes and sees a reflection of you in them, Arcee made a promise to make sure that no hurt will ever come to her sparkling. It's funny how she used to tease June for being a helicopter mom because Arcee is no different. She's protective, sometimes too protective of the baby. Always worrying every five minutes even after Ratchet had ordered her to get some sleep. She doesn't trust anyone outside of team Prime with her child, and even if they wanted to hold the baby she would have to be close to keep watch. Jack would often watch over them, entertaining the gibberish coming out of their mouth. It warms her spark to know that even under all that loss, she still has love left inside of her. And she swore to give it all to the sparkling in her arms. Not a day goes by without her thinking of you.

5. Even if it wasn't his fault, Ratchet couldn't stop blaming himself for it. The memory of your death playing over and over again in his processor. It made him feel unworthy of the baby in his arms. He doesn't show his grief, but underneath that exterior, Ratchet was crushed. There was a multitude of emotions overwhelming him, sadness, regret, worry, anger, pain - so much pain. The hurt only goes away when the baby laughs. That gave him the push to pull himself together. Ratchet is naturally idealistic, he sets high standards for himself to cope with your absence. He became preoccupied with taking care of the baby, and if he wasn't, he was reading on how to become the ' best father.' Optimus has to constantly remind him that we cannot create the perfect parent out of a test tube. Every mistake made Ratchet feel ashamed, yet he accepted the fact that parenthood was all about learning. He wasn't religious, but Primus does the old mech feel blessed to have the baby in his arms.

6.Smokescreen still couldn't fully accept your death, stuck within this loop of bargaining and denial. It pained everyone around him to see Smokescreen so torn. The only thing that kept him grounded was the Sparkling. He loves how they remind him to stay cheerful, giving him hope even when he can barely smile. He remains optimistic for your baby's sake, knowing he still has so much to learn about being a sire. Smokescreen wasn't a perfect parent, mistakes naturally occur, but what makes him a great parent is that he tries to be better. He was maturing into a better person because of his child, achieving the best version of himself through fatherhood. Eventually, he knows he should move on from the grief, but just because Smokescreen decided to accept your death for the sake of your child doesn't mean he forgot about you. He knows that you'll always be in his spark. He wonders if you're proud of him.

7.Being a father was not something Wheeljack had predicted for himself. He had always seen himself as a lone mech, never grounded to one place. It was just heartbreaking to see that when he finally decided to build a home with you, the universe had other plans. Wheeljack guarded his emotions and kept to himself because he doesn't want to get hurt, so your death made him withdrew even more. He was angry at himself. Yet when he held the sparkling in his arms, Wheeljack realized that they needed him more than ever. He doubts he'll make a good father, but Team Prime was more than willing to help him. Bulkhead gave him a lot of pointers on how to care for the baby, even Ultra Magnus had offered some advice. Fatherhood helped him heal and at the same time, it made him realize that he still has a home. As reckless as Wheeljack was he's protective towards his baby. He only begins to cut himself some slack when Arcee compared him to Ultra Magnus. Wheeljack knew children were different from assembling ships. There was no manual. He struggled a lot, but through time and a lot of patience, he was happy to see that his sparkling grew into a mini version of himself. They remind him so much of you and Wheeljack wished you were there to see him now.

8.Ultra Magnus lives a life of fighting. Even before the war, he was already part of the military. As the leader of the Wreckers and the Autobot's second in command, Ultra Magnus has to make sure he has nothing to lose. He cannot afford any kind of liability that would hold him back. Therefore, when he lost you, he couldn't help but beat himself up for it. He feels responsible for putting you in such a dangerous position, even if your death had nothing to do with him. A common misconception is that Ultra Magnus doesn't feel, but in reality, he feels too much to the point where your death pushed him into drinking. Ultra Magnus has a hard time allowing himself grief, so once he does, he loses control for the first time in his life. The main reason he sobered up was that he knew he had a child to look after. He was attentive and observant, always providing for the sparkling whenever it cries or gets hungry. Yet, a baby is nowhere near one of his subordinates. Even if he's aware of this, he sometimes still finds himself stuck in difficult situations. The commander has a hard time asking for help, but thankfully those around him were more than willing to help out. Ultra Magnus was a strict parent. He often grows too protective of his child. The thought of losing someone after you was unbearable. However, with a little reminder here and there, Ultra Magnus had managed to raise a wonderful child. Ultra Magnus would often take a look at the holo-picture of you he keeps in his subspace and feel proud. He was happy to see that his child took after their carrier.

A/N : I hope this was what you wanted Anon <3

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7-wonders · 3 years

Text

The Trouble With Wanting

Summary: Though life has changed for you, for the rest of the world, everything remains the same.

Word Count: 1.3K

Author's Note: Hello yes it's the beginning of Act II of Mad Love. Buckle up. Special shoutout to @mrslangdonn for being so pumped for this and making an actual meme. Really hope I didn't let you down with this.

Mad Love Act I here!

In the grand scheme of things, life has been oddly normal lately. Since being kidnapped by witches, saved by your Antichrist husband, admitting that you actually do love said Antichrist husband, and realizing that you’re potentially the only thing that can stop the end of times, the world continued turning and the days marched on. Michael did what he normally did during the days (you don’t really know what it is he does, to be honest. Probably just talking to rich people all day), and you did too. Life continued as it had been, even though it felt like your world had been changed numerous times lately. Honestly, you had expected things to be a lot more dramatic.

But no, life was almost boring now. Mallory had gone back to New Orleans to handle being the Supreme and running her coven, so besides the texts and phone calls with her to try and figure out how to convince Michael that ending the world wasn’t the right course of action to take, the vigilante talk was almost non-existent in your day-to-day life. That was also because neither of you had any idea how to actually put this plan into action. There had been ideas, of course, but none that held any weight. That may be because the best idea either of you had had was a Powerpoint that showed all of the reasons why ending the world was a bad idea, but in your opinion that was still an idea that was on the table.

Also, you assumed that professors wouldn’t take “preoccupied by your husband’s plans for world domination” as a proper excuse for you not completing your work or showing up to class. At the very least, with how turbulent your life had been, you had expected far less homework than what you’re staring at right now.

You’re sitting in your room, doing some reading for class. Surprisingly, the reading isn’t that boring. It’s certainly not fun to do, which is probably why you hear the music right away; your attention absolutely is not all that focused tonight. It catches you entirely off-guard, considering that there’s no speakers in your room and you definitely did not have any music playing from your phone. You listen for a moment, trying to place the melody.

“Is this Frankie Valli?” you question, standing up from your bed and trying to find the source. Opening up your door to see if this is an isolated incident, you find that the music is drifting throughout the house. ‘Drifting’ is probably the wrong word, since it literally sounds like there’s speakers playing “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” that are installed in every room and hallway.

“Hi,” you say, finally coming across Michael in the living room. He’s standing there nonchalantly, which you automatically know means that he’s involved in this.

“Hi,” Michael says right back.

“Uh, what’s with the music?”

“Well, I was on my phone earlier, and I came across an article.”

Smiling, you step towards him. “You did?”

He nods. “I did, and it was extremely informative. Did you know that married couples typically have a reception after they officially get married? Apparently, they share a first dance at the reception.”

“And you believe everything you read on the internet?”

“Sometimes, if there’s some truth to what I’m reading.” You stare at him, biting back a laugh. “We’re married.”

“We are married.”

“We didn’t have a first dance when we got married.”

“No, we did not.”

Finally, Michael sighs, tired of you playing dumb. “(Y/N), may I have this dance?”

You grab Michael’s outstretched hand, letting him pull you towards him. One hand goes onto your waist, the other intertwined with yours. He begins to lead you in a simple waltz, and you’re thankful that he knows how to dance because you sure don’t. “I didn’t know you knew this song,” you comment when you realize he’s humming.

“I enjoy the classics.”

“There’s this scene from a movie, where one of the main characters--”

“You’re talking about 10 Things I Hate About You, right?” You raise an eyebrow in questioning, and he chuckles. “Madelyn loved ‘90s rom coms, and sometimes I was bored enough that I would watch them with her.”

“I’m a little impressed.”

Michael spins you around. “You should be.”

The romanticism of the whole situation is almost overwhelming. It doesn’t matter that you’re in your living room instead of a reception hall, wearing sweatpants instead of a wedding dress. You’re here with Michael, and just that is romance enough for you. You could stand here like this, with him, forever if he asked you to do so.

“What if we had an actual wedding?” Michael asks.

“We did have an actual wedding.”

“I mean one where you actually have a say in it.”

“Well that’s sweet of you, Michael, but you still haven’t taken me on a proper date.”

“My apologies.” He dips you, kissing you before bringing you back up. “How’s Paris for a first date? Maybe Greece?”

You gasp. “Seriously?”

“Absolutely. Wherever you want, whenever you want, however you want.” He punctuates each scenario with a kiss, making your body melt into him. The song ends, the house falling into silence before the music begins to repeat. But neither of you are paying attention to that any more, not when he’s staring at you in a way that makes heat pool in the bottom of your stomach.

“Michael,” you whisper, tilting your head up to kiss him again.

He reciprocates, trailing kisses down your jaw and onto your throat as his hands move up and down your sides. All too soon, he pulls away, making you groan in disappointment. “We shouldn’t, you know…”

“I know,” you lean your head against his chest with a sigh.

Of course. The main issue that’s been prevalent on both yours and Michael’s minds for weeks now: you’re married and you love each other, but sex is...not going to happen for the time being. You both absolutely, 100% want to, but, as with most things in your life, Satan seems to be the major roadblock. You just never thought that your father-in-law (who you’ve still never met) would end up cockblocking you.

Just because Michael made sure that you wouldn’t be under Satan’s influence, that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t stop trying. If anything, he’s going to try even more now that both of you had openly defied his will. And what was the one thing that Satan wanted besides the end of the world? For Michael to have an heir. And you didn’t trust any sort of contraception when it came to the supernatural powers that you had been married into. Michael completely agreed with that, especially since he knew first-hand just how easily material things (like condoms and all of the various forms of birth control) could be manipulated. So for now, until you could figure out a way to safely get it on, sex was off the table. Unfortunately.

“I’m going to go finish my reading, then.” Slowly, because neither of you particularly want to, you disentangle yourself from him.

“And I’m going to...take a shower. A cold shower.” You laugh at him, but you’re really in the same position that he is.

“Have a good night,” you say, bounding up the stairs before you can stop yourself.

“You too.” Michael also goes up the stairs, and you shut your door before you have to say something to him again. You still keep separate bedrooms, partly because you really enjoy your space and partly because you know that, given the opportunity to be laying in a bed with Michael when you’re both horny, you would totally let him fuck you.

Sliding your back down the door, you groan as you hold your head in your hands. Saving the world from the apocalypse is definitely difficult. Having to stop yourself from having sex with your incredibly hot husband? Well, that feels impossible.

Tag List (starting from scratch because I need a new tag list so message me if you want to be tagged!): @michaellangdon @trelaney @xavierplympton @hecohansen31 @blakescoven @we-did-it-joe @thatonehumanbeing05 @michaellangdonstanaccount

#mad love #michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon imagines #american horror story #american horror story imagine #american horror story apocalypse #ahs #ahs imagine

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