#there's like a dozen other points of reference i need to get his character even remotely right though

[confused-stars]

i need to actually remember for my writing that my main hc for why Childe is Like That is that he saw something real and true just once in his life and has been chasing that high ever since despite it being a massively traumatizing experience

kind of like a very weird Lovecraft protagonist

#genshin #childe #there's like a dozen other points of reference i need to get his character even remotely right though #there's also the fact that he seems to have thrown himself into fighting the whale with no hesitation #which. how does he feel about it really. outside of it trying to eat fontaine/the world #how does he personally feel about his connection to the whale. does he love it? is he afraid of it? does he /know/? (probably not) #i also don't think he's that introspective. he's just moving forward and not figuring his shit out #no i can't start writing childe meta again it's past midnight nothing coherent happens at this time

[itscherrylipsforme]

A love story yet to be written: Jason Todd x Vigilante!bookworm!fem!reader

Summary: The mysterious Red Hood has been your loyal teammate since you became another one of Gotham's vigilantes. Many literature puns and "subtle" flirty comments later, he has decided that it's time to meet you when you two are not covered by the city's darkness and your secret identities

Warnings: Just dozens of references to my fave classic lit authors and novels

Requested: yes

Words: About 1570

Author rambles: God, this has been on my drafts for so long. Glad I was finally able to publish it. Thanks to the anon who sent the request, hope you like it 🫶🏼

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

Gotham’s skies were pitch black when you submerged, like every twilight, in its streets and roofs. Masked face, combat boots, dark sweater and jeans paired with a black leather jacket and a bulletproof vest under all of it. Pointed daggers on your belt, a pair of guns attached to your back harness just in case. Being a vigilante was not an easy side job, but you needed to do it.

Some people simply can’t watch their whole world fall apart and stare blankly. And you would certainly not stay back when your beloved city was drowning in corruption and crime. Growing up you had always been aware that they were others protecting you. Batman, Robin, and the other peculiar crime fighters that had joined them with the pass of time. But being honest, Gotham was a criminals dump, and all the help they could get counted.

 So, you decided to do you your bit. Trained hard, learned how to hide in the shadows and started to feel that what you did matter to your people. Recognition was not long in coming, although fame was not what you were after anyway. One night a camera caught you beating up one bastard who was trying to assault a young girl, next day you were on the news. Dusk they called you and you were not annoyed by the nickname, it suited you in a certain way.

You soon became another no-faced admired warrior to your neighbours. Not bad for the girl who used to be bookworm theatre kid back in High School. Becoming one of Gotham’s saviours was not one of your dreams job as a child, but life has surprising turns waiting for us. What was even more unexpected is that you ended up meeting one of the other vigilantes and that he had become an interesting fellow during the otherwise solitaire superhero’s nights.

“Nice to see you here in the dead vast and middle of the night, darling” He greeted you, after hearing your feet landing in the same rooftop he was in. Didn’t matter if he was backwards, you had started to think he had developed a sixth sense to notice your presence. You could almost bet he was smiling bellow his metallic helmet.

“Good night, Hodd” You answered coming by his side. “Shakespeare, wasn’t it?”

“Smart girl. Hamlet, more precisely” You agreeded “You arrived later than you use to”

“Missed me, geekie boy?” A little chuckle broke the silence of Gotham.

“Of course I did! I would not wish any companion in the world but you” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his gaze locked in the city’s sky. “And admit it, you are as much a nerd as I am”

“The Tempest? Have you been rereading Uncle Willy’s plays again?” The question ended up sounding like a half-joke half-teasing “And you are right, bookworm and proud. We wouldn’t get along so easily if I weren’t. I declare after all that there is no enjoyment like reading”

A slow nod was the only answer you received. You were certain that a smile was decorating his face at the moment. But not in a million of years you could have imagined that his usual smirk was now followed by a pinkish tone in his cheeks. How long he had been like this around you? He couldn’t recall exactly. This flirting slightly hided between book quotes and glances had been part of your friendship for quite sometime now.

The only problem? He couldn’t bear with being just a friend anymore. When it had all started? He didn’t know. Maybe the night he met you. And when the two of you started patrolling together like every other night, he couldn’t help coming back to those sweet memories still fresh on his mind.

“Another superhero wannabe” that’s what he thought when he first saw you moving from celling to celling without the grace and rhythm that only years of practice can give you. And he was not wrong, you were an amateur, one who still need to practice, but you definitely were determinate enough for that. Jason was not aware of this, therefore he decided to have some fun.

“What are you doing here?” He asked jumping to your side with a voice tone much deeper than his usual one.

“Patrolling” You managed to say in a whisper, rising your head to look at him directly. Shivers run through your spine, not knowing what to do. But you would not allow him to notice your fear.

“Scared of me darling?” He leaned a little so he could be nearer to your face.

“Not even a little, I know who you are” You answered and somehow the most daring and wittiest part of your mind chose to add the next sentence “And also there is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others.”

“My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.” He finishes almost instinctively.

He stared at your for some instants, not believed the words that had just come out of your lips. Another vigilante? Who quoted Austen? The night was turning up to be quite interesting.

“You are a sharp girl, with a good book taste” He resolved. “Red Hodd, at your service” He offered you his hand and his presentation, although it was no needed.

And that’s how all started, now a few months later you two keep protecting Gotham from whoever and whatever treats it. This night had been tranquil, a seldom occurrence, and Jason hadn’t talked to much, his mind was focused on a matter which had been troubling him for weeks. When the first rays of light threaten to appear, it’s time to farewell. Not without cracking some bad puns first of course.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Dusk is the sun.” He smirked once again.

“First, that’s contradictory. Second, you seriously have to get over your Shakespeare era”.

“Does that mean I don’t get a proper goodbye?” Even with his voice modulator you could hear the teasing edge on the question.”

“Of course, you do” You tried to come up with something silly, yet sweet. “Good night, sweet prince, and flights and angels sing thee to thy rest!”

With that you made a small joking bow and left the rooftop to go back home. It had been enough; Jason had made out his mind. He was going to look for you. He needed to see the unmasked face who had been able to be the first one to win his heart. Luckily, one of his many siblings is a professional hacker.

A bookstore, somehow, he was not surprised at all when Tim found your worked there. In his jean’s pocket there was a small piece of paper with dozens of cheesy books lines that made him think of you. "You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read." "We would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright." “You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how” … And those were only the first ones. There were not enough words in the books from your bookstore to describe how nervous he was and how much he wanted to tell you he loved you. But he could at least try.

Your elbows were resting on the counter, another novel laying in front of you. When the doorbell rang announcing another client, you immediately smiled and looked at Jason. You left your seat to meat him by the door, the book long forgotten.

“Took you long enough to find me, geekie boy” You gritted him.

All his speech and quotes banished in the air with just a single sentence of yours. He finally came to himself.

“Wait, were you waiting for me?”

“Of course, I did” You chuckle, God he loved that sound “For almost two months, after all your bad pick-up lines I thought you would be ready to come and met me in person”.

“But… How have you recognized me?” Confusion was still seen on his face.

“Easy. Looked for the libraries and bookstores that had your favourite tittle. Cheeked the names of all the men who borrowed or bought them. Looked for their photos on the internet and compared them with the physical description I had from your” You shrug your shoulders as that work was nothing to you “I am a vigilante after all”.

“I have a brother who would love to meet you, you know?”

“Maybe later, but I guess you came here because you had something to tell me”.

He took a deep breath. Just a few hours, that was all he needed to win you over this time. "In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed.” He said softly, but determinate “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I love and admire you.”

Just after he finished your lips were meeting his in a soft and sweet kiss, like the ones written in romance novels.

“You have bewitched me, body and soul” You whispered to his ear.

“Actually, that’s from the movie, not the book”.

You had to kiss him again, this time with more passion, to shut him up.

#jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader

[romancingromanoff]

Second Death

Andromache the Scythian x f!reader

I decided to create a series for Andromache (my beloved). Here’s part 1, part 2, and part 3

Summary: Your first mission does not go according to plan

TW: Violence, major character death, somewhat descriptive gore, getting shot in the face, head explosions (kinda), ANGST

Words: around 3,000

A/N: Aside from being very difficult for me to write, this is probably the darkest I've ever gotten in terms of physical violence. So, uh, Happy Halloween I guess?

The plan was based off Buenos Aires 1822 (not 1922 as you had incorrectly assumed at first) which was a reference you obviously didn’t understand but was being explained to you in the most hectic way possible.

“Wait, so Nicky was decapitated-”

“Half decapitated. I didn’t actually die!”

“But you were quite light-headed for the rest of the day, my dear.” Joe feigned concern, brushing the back of his hand across his partner’s forehead and smiling like a fool.

Your leader was having none of it.

“Can we be serious please?” Immediately, the entire group’s focus shifted back to the Scythian. She certainly wasn’t going to admit it but she was apprehensive with this being your first mission. For months, you’d been doing nothing but training and begging her to let you in on the action until she was finally forced to give in. The instinct to keep you safe gnawed at Andy while it became increasingly difficult to ignore how your desire to prove your worth would only continue to grow. She recognized the same frustrations in a much younger version of herself and remembered how reckless it drove her to be.

“I’d rather we didn’t repeat that portion this time, agreed?”

You all nodded.

They laid out all the details about the traffickers and the group of people you were meant to rescue. It was an estimated 25-40 women and older girls being smuggled through for undoubtedly unpleasant purposes Andy didn’t get too detailed with. She, Joe, and Nico planned to storm the ship when it completely docked and most of the crew was on land retrieving supplies and weapons. That would leave only a few guards standing between them and the captives, who were most likely being held somewhere below deck. Once they find them, you and Booker would bring in the truck to help get everyone out. It sounded simple enough, but the fact that it was meant to go off without a hitch somehow doubled the amount of pressure you were applying to yourself. They had all done this at least once before, so if things went south then it was all because of you.

A few hours passed and you sat next to Booker in the passenger seat of the truck parked a couple of meters away from the ship and near a loading dock. With the engine off it was starting to get increasingly cold, but you didn’t even mind the chill at that point. You needed to be as alert as possible for what was to come.

Booker clearly sensed your apprehension. “It’s okay to be nervous, we’re not going to let anything bad happen to you.” He kept his voice low and his eyes glued on the dock entrance while you tried to do the same. 

Your mind was wrapped up in much bigger concerns. “I’m not worried about that. What if something goes wrong because of me? If I get hurt then so be it, I just don’t want to endanger anyone else when their lives and freedom are at stake.”

“You’ll be fine. Trust your training and lean on your team if you need help. That’s what we’re here for.” He offered you an encouraging smile that you attempted to return the best you could, yet you also wished he wouldn’t look at you with so much sympathy all of the time. As much as you appreciated everything they had done for you, you longed to show the others that you were capable of carrying your own weight and didn’t need someone to hold your hand constantly.

The two of you settled into a silence that was occasionally filled with a comment or two about nothing in particular. It didn’t do much to settle your nerves. You watched as dozens of muscular men left in packs, each one armed with at least a pistol that Booker taught you how to spot. He translated some of the French he could hear them speaking, which was mostly crude, misogynistic banter that made your jaw clench up.

“Good to know that men are pigs in basically all cultures,” you murmured mostly to yourself and tried to get your jaw to relax. Surprisingly, it earned you a gratifying laugh from the Frenchman and you were relieved when he didn’t take your comment too personally. 

“For the most part, I don’t disagree.”

“How will Andy and the others know when all of them have left?” You changed the subject upon the realization that the rest of the guard was hidden somewhere no one would see them, not even you. It was still difficult to imagine they had a better scouting position than the near-direct view you did.

“Don’t worry, they’ll know,” Booker assured you in a slightly amused tone. Some secrets were still too complicated for you to know about yet, you supposed.

Almost a half hour later, three heads eventually peered up through the shadows and Andy, Joe, and Nico lifted themselves up onto the ship. Perfectly lit by hues of the full moon, they danced towards their destination, the sheer coordination and skill reminding you of just how experienced they were. With Andy leading the pack, they silently began making their way up the vessel as a single unit. No words or other body gestures needed to be shared when they occupied the same hive mind. The group only came to a stop when they reached a door and huddled around it, trying to listen for anyone that might be on the other side. When you assumed everything was clear, Andy swiftly kicked it open and entered with her gun aimed and ready. 

Not even a minute after all three filed in, the sound of a gunshot suddenly shook you. You immediately turned to Booker, whose face gave away the slightest look of concern at the noise. This must not have happened in Buenos Aires. No more gunshots followed, thank goodness, but there were sounds of a struggle going on below deck which had the two of you on high alert. You prayed that nobody else close by could hear the commotion.

Things began to steer away from the original plan when Joe emerged from below far before he should have, struggling to keep another figure under control as he held their arms in a twisted position behind their back while continuing to firmly push them forward. Even in the dark, you could just make out how young the kid appeared to be. He couldn’t have been older than 16 and you assumed his reason for being on the ship was because he had an older relative in the crew. You relaxed when you realized that meant how unlikely it was that he’d be trained in how to fight. Joe would definitely keep from harming him unless he absolutely had to. Stupidly, you also forgot about how reckless young boys can be.

Everything fell apart in a mere matter of seconds. As he appeared to calm down, Joe eased up on the grip he held the boy with and he it didn’t seem like he would move at first. But in an instant, the scraggly kid darted from his grasp and sprinted around a corner and out of your line of sight to the completely opposite side of the ship. Booker reached for the door handle as a precaution while the rest of his body remained seated. A bead of sweat rolled down your neck despite the chill in the air and the gradual understanding that Book might be preparing to leave you on your own stilled your body completely. All of the careful planning you had fought to carefully commit to memory melted into mush.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched whistle that rang through the air and your eyes quickly followed a bright red light travel up into the sky before it burst into a large display of lights and smoke. Time seemed to slow down and your heart sped up. Of course, if there wasn’t going to be another pistol going off, it had to be a goddamn flare gun. Yelling, alarmed Frenchmen could then be heard scrambling towards the dock and Booker cursed under his breath.

“Stay here, I’ll go help the others!” Booker leaped out of the vehicle, throwing the keys which hit your petrified figure. Part of you wanted to speak up and stop him but you could only squeak out an indecipherable sound of concern seconds after he was gone. Looking back at the ship, you caught sight of Nico peeking his head out from the door they entered through. He exited with a determined look on his face and was followed by a line of women. You itched at your sweating palms when twenty women or so had piled out and there was still no sign of Andy. 

The men hurrying in from the opposite direction quickly diverted your attention. Squinting your eyes, you were able to spot a figure in the distance headed straight towards your vehicle. You nearly panicked but caught yourself, uncertain if you were dealing with the traffickers or possibly random dock workers that had been alarmed by the flare and merely wanted to check out the situation. Either way, you decided it was still too risky to start up the engine just yet. At least, you told yourself the others probably wouldn’t want you to give away your position.

That’s when you noticed a faint movement in your side mirror. A tuft of matted blonde curls belonging to a distressed woman’s face peeked over the top of one of the crates not to far behind you. She must’ve spotted something concerning, because her eyes went wider than a trapped mouse’s and she disappeared back down, ultimately causing the crates to shake. You ground your back teeth together and prayed it was only you who had seen her. But then right on cue, the blinding glow of a flashlight landed directly over the area where the woman was hiding. The man you had spotted only moments before, his flashlight lit up a devious grin on his face that urged you to hold in your breath. He even sounded like the devil when he spoke. It didn’t take a high level French skills to tell that he began goading the poor woman like it was some sadistic game to him. 

He approached the crates ever so slowly, savoring the anticipation which laid before whatever unspeakable plans he had for his victim. It then occurred to you that she was most likely paralyzed with the same fear that had struck you.

And yet, she was the one currently being hunted while you were poised to sit and watch it unfold. You, protected by both your position and inexplicable gift of immortality. None of it seemed remotely fair and your body began to stir at the simple thought.

“Under no circumstances should you be engaging in combat,” Andy had firmly laid down the law several times leading up to this day. You’d never wanted to disobey anything she said so passionately before and here it felt like you scarcely had no other option but to go against something she forbade. 

The adrenaline rushing through your veins threw your body into action before you could debate any further. Barely aware of the forces taking hold of you, you tumbled out of the door and landed directly behind the attacker who continued to stalk forward towards the woman’s hiding place. He slowly began to raise his gun, something with barrels much longer than your forearms, and it was like you didn’t have the time to properly assess whatever danger lie at the other end. You just didn’t want it pointing at her.

Without a hint of hesitation, you drove foot into the back of the man’s left knee and he immediately crumbled down to about a third of his height. You were ready for him with your knife once his face spun around and an overpowering sense of rage guided your arm to make a clean cut from just below his right eyebrow, across the bridge of his nose, and finally through the center of his left eye. 

Something solid and heavy smacked the front of your head and you could hear the woman behind you scream in horror before everything went black.

Horrific violence was nothing if not a sheer constant to Andy. She had both experienced and caused enough to fill the oceans with blood, yet nothing made her seethe with rage more than watching yours spill from your head like a geyser. A thousand lifetimes stained with death could not have prepared her for the sight of your limp body hitting the ground, to which there was no question as to whether or not you were dead. Even if you had been wearing some type of protective head gear, a shotgun firing within five inches of your face would have been fatal. 

She was usually a pro at keeping her emotions under control until the mission was completed and never steered away from the plan without first calculating the absolute best course of action. The other teammates she had and the terrified group of women she was meant to protect called upon her to uphold her position as the leader, a task she had shouldered over a million times before despite whatever her personal feelings demanded. Absolutely none of that mattered now. Getting to you, killing that bastard, and wrapping you up in your arms became the only course of action she was capable of taking. 

Her first priority was taking out the son of a bitch that dared to touch you before anyone else got hurt. She handed off the little girl she had been carrying to Nico before barreling over a crate and launching herself over the side of the ship, rolling smoothly to break her fall when she hit the the dock. 

Despite how fast she ran, she seemed to move at a cursedly slow pace. She was still too quick for the man, his blood leaking from the fresh gash you had tore across his face, to notice her. He didn’t even get a chance to run before the warrior drove her labrys straight into the already-open wound. Andy could only revel in the brief taste of satisfaction for a moment before her emotions began swarming once again, the anger she had held for that man was now aimed solely at herself.

“Booker, get her into the back!” She barked at the Frenchman to take care of the hostage still hiding while rushing over to where your body collapsed. Up close, the sight was even more gruesome as blood, flesh, and bone were splattered all across what used to be your face. It would have been generous to call what was left of everything above your neck a simple stump. She knew she needed to get you out of there fast but hated to leave behind any parts of your head that might have been salvageable. Even saving something like an ear or significant chunk of your skull could aid in speeding up the healing process. She knew it would be excruciatingly painful for you to grow back yourself. 

She desperately grabbed at fistful of what she hoped was your brain before scooping you up in her arms. It was the fact that you were so much lighter than usual which made her wince, though she couldn’t help but be somewhat relieved when it meant it allowed her to run faster on her feet. Cautious yet quick, Andy made a beeline for the passenger’s seat of the truck and cradled your body in her arms while you continued to bleed out. It wasn’t a sight she wanted any of the hostages to witness and it’s not like she was letting go of you anytime soon anyway. 

“Drive!” One word was all she needed to command whomever was at the steering wheel to get out of there as fast as possible. It didn’t even occur to her to look up and check to see who she was sitting next to, as she immediately began trying to pick up any movement in your chest or a sign of a pulse in your wrist, anything that indicated the resurrection process was in motion.

“Please, please, come back to me,” she pleaded as your warm blood began to pool across her lap.

“Give her a second.” She realized it was Booker currently driving. “It’s only her second time and will probably take longer than expected.”

The women they had freed were now crammed together once again, only this time being in the back of a dark loading truck as it sped through the dead of night was probably far more merciful than them being forced to witness the transformation you were currently undergoing. Andy, however, couldn’t tear a single string of her attention away from you throughout the entire process. 

Each noise you made followed by the eventual cries of her name from your lips, once your mouth and airways had completely reformed, tore at Andromache deeper and deeper, in ways that no physical pain she had ever endured could compare. She bit down on her tongue till it was bloody as you repetitively squeezed her hand throughout the entire process. The same ones you often used to delicately recreate precious moments on paper broke more than a few of her bones. But Andy barely noticed and didn’t have the capacity to care. All she was focused on was you.

For the first time in centuries, the Scythian invoked the words of an ancient prayer and resurrected a long dead language as she tried to soothe your pain. She stopped believing in a higher power a long time ago but couldn’t shake the truth that repeating those words made her feel anchored to something even larger than her life or her immortality. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t try if it might possibly bring you a sense of comfort, which she actually prayed may happen. 

#andromache the scythian x reader #andy the scythian x reader #andromache of scythia #the old guard #one shot #andy the scythian #the old guard x reader #andy #andy x reader #andromache x reader #angst #Charlize Theron characters

[f1tyreslightmyfyre]

Immortal Artistry - Ch. 2

Series Main List

A Vampire AU F1 Fic Featuring Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader, George Russell x Fem!Reader, hints of Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader, Lestappen, Sebchal, and Sainzell (or Russainz?)

Also on AO3

Ch. 2 Warnings: Language; sexual content; non-major character death; stalker behavior; vampire blood violence and thrall; WWII references to Hitler and Nazi regime; non-graphic violence, murder and death

2023

Stepping back into your boss’ executive conference room the next morning, you have a mild heart attack. The table’s surface is clear of all the paperwork that Charles signed last night and even the canister of pens has been straightened up. You blink down, still stunned by the sight. Filing paperwork is one of your job responsibilities. Why would anyone else be in your boss’ private, securely-locked conference room touching paperwork for a case that isn’t theirs, unless…

You don’t hesitate to knock on your boss’ door, opening it wide when he bids you entry. “Good morning, sir,” you say, careful to keep your voice even. “I met with Mr. Leclerc last night to sign the power of attorney paperwork laid out on your conference room table, but this morning –”

“Ah, yes,” Xavier cuts you off with a stiff attempt at a reassuring smile. “Yes, I took the liberty of filing the paperwork myself this morning. There were… some finer points that I wanted to handle personally.”

None of that sounds right. Why would your boss stoop to such a menial task? Especially for paperwork on standard forms that you’ve seen dozens of times on other cases. Despite the confused torrent of your thoughts, you offer a slow nod. “Oh, well, glad to hear that they’re not missing. Erm, thank you for… taking care of that.”

“Not at all.” He placates with another disconcerting smile. “Thank you again for taking the meeting last night. I have an appointment to meet Señor Leclerc at his office in three days from now, but I’ve been reassured that it’s not to discuss anything negative from last night’s meeting.”

Your conversation with Charles flashes in your memory, and again, all you can immediately summon is another nod. “Sounds good, err – thank you for clarifying, and for letting me interrupt.”

“Not at all.” He says again, turning back towards his laptop, and you close the door behind you.

You can’t make heads or tails of it. Something about the entire situation feels so incredibly off, but you can’t place your finger on it. Taking a deep breath to try and displace your unease, you walk back to your office and unlock your laptop.

Unbidden, the memory of George’s smiling, handsome face flashes in your mind. You remember your new days at this firm all too well, and maybe that’s what you need to feel normal right now – commiserating with a fellow new paralegal about the woes of work.

Clicking open the office chat program, you search for ‘George Russell’. Your brow furrows as nothing comes up. Perhaps you misheard him and instead, you just search ‘George’. Several names appear in the results, but there’s no last name that even comes close to resembling Russell. Had you really misheard him that bad? You debate going to ask his boss, Musconi, about him, but you don’t need to stalk him like that.

You just need to drink your coffee and get on with your job, no matter what weirdness has transpired in the last twelve hours.

But four days later, you nearly spew coffee all over your kitchen when the news breaks.

SENIOR PARTNER AT PROMINENT MONEGASQUE LAW FIRM FOUND DEAD

Senior Partner Xavier Marcos Padros at the prestigious law firm of Hunt & Lauda was found dead in his home during early hours this morning. Authorities have already launched a full-scale investigation into his death that sources are calling a homicide. There were no immediate signs of forced entry at Padros’ residence, but the victim was found in the kitchen in a pool of blood believed to be his own.

Authorities also paid a visit to Padros’ office at Hunt & Lauda, and found the place ransacked. With papers strewn about and drawers ripped from cabinets, sources suspect that a theft has also taken place, but are careful to note that no such scene of destruction was observed at Padros’ residence. At this time, it’s unconfirmed that the two incidents are linked but authorities are investigating all leads.

You have to read the article twice to fully understand it. The shock of it slams through you, and your hand trembles to think of your boss just suddenly… dead. Murdered, even. Again, you scan the mention of homicide and your stomach sours. Especially as you do the quick math and realize that last night was his meeting with Mr. Leclerc. Though, didn’t he say that the meeting was at Mr. Leclerc’s office?

Just what the hell had happened last night?

Closing the article, you open your work email and look for any sort of corporate announcement. But there’s nothing new in your inbox at the early hour and with shaky motions, you go about getting ready for the workday. The sight of the office building twists your gut as you park and the buzz of the sodium-vapor lights does little to reassure you. As you ascend the floors in the elevator, you decide to stop in the main lobby and confirm that your floor is even still accessible. If the authorities are investigating Padros’ office vandalism, then maybe, they’ve closed off the whole area.

A scene of pandemonium greets you as you step out of the elevator. A cordon of building security and police hold back a horde of clamoring journalists as harried employees and clients try to get through the front door. The receptionist at the main desk looks frazzled and teary eyed as she contends with all the commotion while still trying to do her job. People form a line in the elevator lobby – and goodness, it’s just barely 0630 hrs, but it might as well be midday for all the activity that flurries around you.

A cry of your name rises over the din, and you look around with wide eyes. It sounds… oddly familiar, and you stare in wide-eyed surprise as George works his way through the crowd. “Oh, my goodness,” he comments, glancing around, “this is far too much.” Searching your face, he places a supportive hand on your forearm, steering you towards an open space along the wall. “How are you doing? Are you alright after such tragic news?”

“Wait,” you exhale uneasily, shaking your head as you still try to process what’s happening. “How… how do you know that I’d be upset about Padros’ –” your voice sticks in your throat as you realize what you’re able to say aloud. “... death?”

George’s eyes soften with kind concern. “The office chat program lists your supervisor, and I saw that it was Padros.”

“That’s funny. I tried looking you up and couldn’t find you at all.”

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “Sounds like all IT departments are the same in that they move at a snail’s pace. I’m sure it’ll be updated soon, but you still haven’t answered my question. How are you doing?” His fingers give your arm an encouraging squeeze, and it’s more comforting that you realize.

Slowly, you nod. “I’m alright, I think… in shock more than anything, I suppose. He was just… I mean, I just saw him yesterday. And now he’s… dead? And they suspect homicide?” It’s still a lot to process, and despite yourself, a tear stings the corner of your eye. “He was a good guy – he helped people. I mean, who wants to murder a lawyer?”

George chuckles gently, and really, there is something beautiful about his crystal blue eyes. “Did you really just ask that question aloud? Aren’t lawyers always the bad guys?”

“They’re just messengers. Representatives, really.”

“They’re also the keepers of secrets and lies. The twisters of words and the weavers of tales.”

Your brow pinches in mild affront. “And yet you work for them?”

George shrugs with a modest, boyish smile. “I didn’t say that those are necessarily bad things, but things that someone – an aggrieved party, perhaps – might be willing to kill for.”

“But none of his cases were so contentious…” Your words trail off as you try to quickly think through his open case files. Honestly, you don’t know how many in total he handled via his team of paralegals, but you know that none of your case files were so intense. And if not, intense… then, maybe there was just the one unusual case… with Mr. Leclerc.

“You know the police will come asking.” George says, glancing around the bustling lobby with a wary eye. “That’s probably what the reporters are all waiting for, either that or they’re waiting to see if anything is positively identified as missing from his office.”

“God, I can’t even imagine how anyone could ever confirm it for sure, he has so many case files.”

“Then, maybe it wasn’t a file.” George’s brow furrows in thought. “Do you know if he received any packages lately? Or items from a client?”

You purse your lips as you shake your head. “Nothing that I can recall, but I can’t see his office from my desk, so it’s possible, I suppose.”

George nods silently in acknowledgement, giving your arm another gentle squeeze before letting go. “Well, I’m sure the police will turn up something… they won’t be able to live it down otherwise. But I should stop wasting your time and let you get on with your day.”

Your mouth curls to a soft smile. “You’re not wasting my time, George. And it is good to see you again.”

“Yeah, you, too.” He agrees, offering a brilliantly handsome smile. “Take care.”

“Same to you.” You turn in the direction of the elevators, surprised as he moves back down the corridor. “Hey,” you call out after him and he turns back around, “aren’t you heading up to your office?”

“Nah, I want to get a coffee first. You go on ahead.”

Nodding numbly, you offer him a farewell wave and join the elevator queue. You still don’t know if your floor is open or not, but when the elevator dings and the doors open, your day upends.

A team of investigators swarm the floor, leaving no stone unturned as forensics conducts their business and employees are questioned. After confirming your name and job position, you’re instantly swept into your office with an officer for what seems like an endless stream of questions. Hours pass and your brain is a puddle of mush when they’re finished, but really, you don’t know what else to say.

Well… perhaps you could have been a little more truthful about your unease with the Leclerc meeting earlier in the week. Perhaps you also could have mentioned that your boss supposedly had a meeting with Mr. Leclerc last night, but once they gain access to his phone and schedule, they’ll learn that for themselves. Besides, you only have an unfounded hunch and that’s no basis to pin the suspected murder of your boss on a relative stranger, no matter how unusual some of the finer details are.

“There were… some finer points that I wanted to handle personally.”

Just what had Xavier meant?

When the police finally leave you to the silence of your office and the tumult of your thoughts, you wonder if maybe… just maybe the Leclerc paperwork is still in the building. Maybe the police haven’t confiscated it as part of their investigation, and you can see just what you might have overlooked.

In the meantime, the contents of your inbox have exploded, and you lose several more hours answering emails and reassuring clients that more information about the status of their cases are forthcoming. The sun slides below the horizon before you realize the hour – a common habit in your profession – and with it, the hum of investigative activity has also decreased.

In fact, as you head for the break room to refill your water bottle, you notice only one or two other fellow employees on the floor. The path to the filing room is clear and now seems like the perfect time to make your move. Pulling open the filing room door, the automatic lights overhead illuminate the rows of filing cabinets, and it doesn’t take you long to locate the ‘L’ section.

The Leclerc folder is thick from decades’ worth of business that Hunt & Lauda has handled for them, but the newest forms signed by Charles Leclerc, III, sit on the very top. Now, they bear the official embossed seals of authenticity, and you start reading through the rows of printed legal agreements. None of it looks unordinary. None of it looks unique. None of it looks like… some finer point that Padros would need to handle personally.

His words make even less sense now. Putting the paperwork back, you leave the filing room behind and return to your desk. A dull ache throbs in the back of your skull, and you power down your laptop. You don’t know if the main lobby is still a media circus, but you bypass it entirely and head straight down to the parking garage.

Your heels clack off the concrete, approaching your car as a yawn hinges your jaw and pinches  your eyes closed.

When you slowly open them, your heart stops at the sight of a man suddenly standing between you and your car.

1940

“You lack finesse,” Sebastian’s voice carries over the rush of blood in Charles’ ears. “But you have remarkable control.”

Charles swallows the last mouthful of invigorating elixir, feeling the warmth of the man’s blood mix with the ice in his veins. It surges through him with a vitality that transcends everything he thought he knew about being alive. But now he understands just how naive he was. How naive the rest of the human race truly is. 

The human in his grasp falls limp from blood loss, but Charles has no intention of killing this one. Just because he needed a snack doesn’t mean this man has to die. Sebastian made that clear from the beginning. 

Once the red fog of bloodlust passed and Charles adapted to his newfound senses, Sebastian started to teach him so much. And proves to be the most curious person that Charles has ever known, his nationality notwithstanding. 

At first, hearing those German syllables rankled him. How could it not when Hitler was hell bent on Germany conquering all of Europe? 

“That’s where you couldn’t be more wrong.” Sebastian countered, staring him down as fire blazed in his icy eyes. “One man does not speak for a whole nation, and my countrymen are severely misguided for their belief in such a notion. It would appear that humanity has learned no lessons since the Great War and remain more focused than ever on their self-destruction.” 

“Then, why are you here?” Charles asked. “The Allies are fleeing the continent, and Hitler’s forces are conquering everything in their path. So, why are you right in the middle of it?”

Sebastian’s mouth curled with an enigmatic gleam. “War evolves as humanity advances and supposedly betters itself. And war creates opportunity. We just have to find it here, but it does wait for us.” 

Charles shook his head against the pillow, letting himself sink further into the plush, downy mattress. “You say ‘we’... but why me? You… could have chosen anyone. You could have given me the choice to willingly…” 

“It’s not something that one can explain.” Sebastian coolly dismissed as he pressed up against Charles’ side. “Knowing what you know now, would you choose to remain mortal?” 

“Would you?”

Sebastian’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “And miss out on the last 592 years? Miss out on meeting you?” He leaned close, brushing kisses along the slope of Charles’ throat. “Never, schatz.” 

A delicious shiver raced down Charles’ spine and his spent cock twitched with renewed interest. As a mortal, he never had stamina like this… nor did he ever dare to indulge such taboo proclivities so brazenly. 

With a nip on Charles’ collarbone, Sebastian continued. “As for your other question…” he paused to press a kiss over a sensitive nipple. “Do I really need to stroke your ego again?”

A drunken smile came to Charles’ face as Sebastian’s fingers danced along the curve of his hip. “But I do so like having my ego stroked,” Charles teased, gasping as Sebastian finally cups his burgeoning erection. “Among other things…”  

Charles lost the ability to blush when his heart stopped pumping blood, but the memory still triggers a lingering sense of embarrassed modesty. Seb keeps telling him that those notions will fade with the centuries - that eventually Charles will realize that so much of the inner-conflict he experienced as a mortal serves no purpose and has no bearing on the meaning of one’s existence. 

Even now, it's still a lot to take in. 

He loosens his grip on the soldier’s uniform, lowering the slumping man down to the ground. They’re somewhere in Poland, largely untouchable by the war-waging mortals around them (unless a bomb lands on top of them) and largely unnoticed in the chaos as they move around the continent. 

It’s strange in so many ways, and yet… if the world must be embroiled in global warfare and if Charles must now experience it as an immortal bloodsucker of legend and myth, then maybe this isn’t too bad. 

Approval glints in Seb’s eyes. “I do mean it,” he continues. “For one so young, you have excellent control of your thirst.” 

“Did you not?” 

“Goodness, no.” Seb shakes his head as they continue down the street. “My master scolded me all the time for it. I left more bodies in my wake than I probably should have… but in hindsight, those were far more merciful deaths than leaving them to perish from the Black Death.” 

Charles struggles to recall the finer points of his history lessons. “That was the bubonic plague, no? The first time it swept through Europe, taking almost half the population with it.” 

“Yes. Centuries of progress and growth just grinding to a halt. Dark days as illness held sway, endemic warfare ran rampant, and the unity of the Catholic Church shattered.” A sigh sounds in Sebastian's words. “At the time, though, life didn’t seem quite so bleak. How could it when you have nothing else to compare it to? I suppose that’s one advantage to being what we are now - stewards of humanity’s legacy, eternal historians among those destined to create it.” 

Charles glances over with a bemused smirk as they round a corner. “You’re oddly poetic, you know.” 

“How dare you.” Sebastian glares over in mock-indignation. “The Italian Renaissance was absolute torture. Give me the Age of Reason any day.” 

Laughter bubbles in Charles’ throat but it quickly dies as a squad of Nazi soldiers march onto the street ahead. They file out of the half-bombed cathedral, arms laden with golden and glittering relics. Looting has always been the privilege of the victorious, but this war is far from over. 

A primal growl stirs in Sebastian’s chest and he leaps into action before Charles can blink. That’s also something Seb has reassured him about - that Charles' lingering respect for life will fade. After all, without the prospect of damnation, why should Charles worry about stains upon his soul? 

The soldiers don’t stand a chance against Sebastian’s speed or strength. Necks snap and bodies drop to the ground with dull thuds. He doesn’t even need to bare his fangs to finish them off and by the time Charles strolls up the stoop steps, Sebastian is already rummaging through the looted goods. 

“Don’t tell me that you killed them just to take the spoils for yourself?” Charles asks even as he is unable to resist looking over the admittedly impressive collection of wealth strewn amongst the carnage. 

“Religious relics hold little interest for me, but they do not belong as spoils of an army who have so little respect for life and tolerance of religion.” 

Charles nods gently, stepping over to a large, folded panel. Crouching down, he unfolds the first pane, and his mouth drops open at the sight. “Mamma mia….” He hisses under his breath as he unfolds the remaining panels and stares down at the revealed masterpiece. “It’s a van Eyck…”

“What is that?” Sebastian steps around to study the painting. 

“It’s a Jan van Eyck painting - his signature and motto are unmistakable since he’s the only one of his time to sign his work.” Charles raises a hand, skimming over various aspects of the painting. “And his blending of the spiritual and material worlds through symbolism is all here.” 

“How do you know all this?” 

A wistful sigh escapes him. “I wanted to study art at university, but my father said that wasn’t a suitable degree - but in my spare time, I attended every lecture that I could and painted just….” He trails off, shaking his head, still stunned as he stares at the painting. “This is a classic and must be worth a fortune… I can’t believe it was almost destroyed..” 

“We don’t know if they were going to destroy it.” Sebastian’s near-silent footsteps sound behind him. “Perhaps they were taking it for themselves-”

Heavy footfalls echo inside the church and Charles glances up just in time to see a German officer step out onto the stoop. Above his crisp uniform, his face holds a heavy frown as he glowers at Charles and Sebastian. 

“Hände hoch!” He bellows, reaching for his sidearm.

“Nein,” Sebastian holds a hand up as he strides forward. “Schau mich an… schau mich an…” 

The officer’s face falls slack as he succumbs to Sebastian’s thrall, and a stab of envy shoots through Charles. Seb makes it look so easy, but he has also reassured Charles multiple times that it will come more naturally to him as time passes. There’s just so much Charles has yet to learn. 

Fortunately for him, Sebastian is a master. 

A low conversation in German occurs, and for all of Charles’ trilingual skills, German isn’t among his repertoire. Instead, he turns his attention back to the painting, still marveling at what he’s seeing, even as it lays so pristine on the battered ground. 

"They're under orders," Sebastian suddenly says. "Direct from the Führer himself. Acquisition of all cultural artifacts for the glory of the Nazi regime." 

The words drop like rocks in Charles' stomach as they echo in his mind. "What on earth will he do with all that art? He can't possibly hope to sell it all…?" He stands up, glancing back over at Sebastian just in time to watch him soundlessly drop the officer. "Maybe he'll ransom it, or worse…"

"Somehow, I very much doubt that he wants all this artwork for his bedroom." Sebastian agrees as he draws back up to Charles' side. "But whether he means to ransom it back or privately sell it, cash flow like that would energize his war machine beyond comprehension." He pauses in a moment of contemplation before an impish smile brightens his face. "Like I said, war creates opportunity, and my dear Charles," his hand falls to Charles'shoulder with the heavy weight of approval. "I think we may have just found our opportunity."  

Series Main List

Tag List: @fictional-l0v3r

#f1 rpf #f1 fic #f1 fandom #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #george russell #george russell fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #george russell x you #george russell x reader #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz fanfic #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 au #formula 1 #vampire au

[kaiapaia]

at the last stroke of midnight (pt. 2)

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki/Reader

WC: 1,904

Content warnings: aged up characters, everyone is in their 20s or older. fantasy au. no pronouns used for reader, but they are described to wear skirts and are referred to as ‘my lady’. brief descriptions of fantasy violence.

part 1 : part 2 (you are here) : part 3

Your first impression of the tournament is that it is loud. The stands on both sides of the field are crammed with people, and the sound of chatter washes over you like a wave. The queen had made it a point that her box not be above the stands this year, so you are down in the thick of it. 

It’s a far cry from the peace of your mountain home, where the loudest noise is the rushing water of the glacial runoff that flows through the center of your village. It’s even quieter in winter- it gets so quiet that you can hear the snow fall. 

This is… not that. 

Another thing you miss about your home is how cool it is. Even in the summer, the nights get cold enough that an extra blanket or a sweater feels nice. Here you’re sweating under three layers of skirts. Curse these southerners and their damn formal clothing, you think as you try to subtly adjust your skirts to get some semblance of airflow. 

You hadn’t been informed that this tournament would require even the servants to be in formal dress, so you’d missed the beginning of the tournament while the other ladies in waiting quickly stuffed you into a gown. You’d almost deliberately left the favor the queen had given you on the vanity in your quarters, but then you remembered the hopeful look on the queen’s face when she’d given it to you, and begrudgingly stuffed it in your pocket. 

Unfortunately, since you’d missed the introductions at the beginning of the tournament, you didn’t know any of the knight’s names, and you haven’t been in the south long enough for any of the crests the knights are wearing to mean anything. You watched the ladies around you hand out their favors to knights who came riding up with a bit of interest. Luckily it seemed like they knew the knights who approached them, and blushed and tittered when the knights would tip their lances to them for the ladies to place the favor.

You don’t know any of these knights, and it seems unlikely that any of them will come to you for a favor, so you busy yourself watching the spectacle. You know the queen is going to ask you what you thought about it, so you want to have answers for her interrogation questions later. 

It means that your eyes are elsewhere when a knight rides up to you. They have to clear their throat and tap their lance against the railing of the box to draw your attention. You look to either side of you to see who the knight is trying to catch, when the knight speaks. 

“I was looking for you,” they say, and their voice sends a shudder up your spine. They lift a hand to their visor, opening it just enough that you can see the mismatched eyes underneath, twinkling with amusement. “You’re hard to find.”

“Well you found me,” you huff, crossing your arms. “Do you want a prize?”

“Yes, actually.” The knight smiles, and tips his lance in your direction. “Would you grant me your favor, my lady?”

“Why should I give it to you?” you ask, looking the knight over for any clue to his identity. His armor is plain, and his shield bears no crest, only a red and white field. Like his hair, your brain supplies. 

“I need the luck,” the knight says, his eyes earnest. 

“I’m sure there are dozens of ladies here who could give you luck,” you gesture to the stands filled with women, wreaths of flowers clutched in their hands.

“But I want your luck,” he pleads. 

“Fine,” you cave, leaning down to slide the wreath of flowers over the tip of his lance. “But if you win, I want the prize. It is my luck, after all.” 

He stands up in the stirrups of his saddle, reaching up to grasp your hand in his gauntleted one before you can pull away.  “As you wish, my lady,” he murmurs, keeping his eyes on yours as he presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

You open your mouth to say something, but the horns ring out, signaling the start of the tournament. The knight smiles at you one last time, before he sits back down in his saddle and shuts the visor of his helmet. He waves at you before turning his horse to ride to the start line.

You pull your hand to your chest, unconsciously rubbing the spot where he kissed. His lips really are as soft as they look, you muse for a moment before snapping yourself out of your daze. You do your best to ignore the pounding of your heart as you watch the knights assemble for the first part of the tournament.

Jousting is the first event. You’ve seen knights practice in the training yards of the castle, trying to knock each other off their horses or gather rings on their lances. It’s much different watching it up close, and you find yourself swept up in the enthusiasm of the crowd, cheering at the clash of lances on steel.

As loath as you are to admit it, the queen was right, you muse as you watch. This is more fun than you were expecting. You groan inwardly at the thought of telling her that. She might have a reputation as being refined and elegant, but she can be smug as hell when she’s right about something.

The knight with the red and white shield is one of the last to go in the jousting event. You watch as he takes his place at the end of the tilting lane, lance in hand. The flowers you gave him flutter in the wind at the base of the lance, and you can feel the queen’s knowing gaze on the back of your head. You stubbornly refuse to turn and look, keeping your eyes fixed on the knight. 

The stands quiet as the heralds call the start of the round. The crowd seems to be holding their breath, waiting for the sound of impact. You hear the drum of the horse’s hooves on the dirt as they pound down the tilting lane, and the crowd roars as both lances shatter against the knight’s armor. Both of them stay seated, turning their horses to go back to their starting point and prepare for another pass.

Brushing aside the lance that his squire offers him, your knight clambers off his horse and runs into the tilting lane with a clank of steel. The crowd gasps, watching him root around in the dirt before he finds what he’s looking for- he pulls the favor you gave him out of the dirt and dusts it off, before trotting back to his side of the tilting lane and climbing back up on his horse. You watch as he slides the favor over the tip of his new lance before getting into position. The crowd murmurs around you as the heralds call the start of the next pass.

There’s a clash of wood on steel and you watch as your knight unseats his opponent with a clean hit, the other knight going flying off his horse and landing in the dirt. Your knight reins in his horse and swings down, walking over to offer the other knight a hand up as the squires run down the lanes. 

After making sure that his opponent landed safely, your knight turns to the queen’s box and salutes with his lance, as is the victor’s tradition. For a moment, you feel his eyes on you, even though they’re covered by the steel of his helmet’s visor. You dismiss the feeling as nonsense, but you can’t help the slight flush that colors your cheeks.

Once the jousts finish, you watch the tournament attendants clear the tilting lane markers and reset the arena. The victorious knights gather around the edges, talking quietly with their squires as the tournament attendants finish setting up the arena for the melee. 

Over the chatter of the festival goers around you, you hear the queen call your name. You leave the railing and turn towards her seat, curtsying as you approach. “Your majesty,” you greet, bowing your head with your curtsy. 

“I have a favor to ask you,” she says, inclining her head to you conspiratorially. “Take your handkerchief to that knight with the red and white shield.”

You snap your head up, looking at her incredulously. “What? Why?” You hiss, lowering your voice to not be heard over the crowd.

“You gave him your favor, did you not? Take him your handkerchief to wipe his face, and go congratulate him on his win.” 

You want to say no, but she looks so excited that you can’t bring yourself to deny her. “Yes, your majesty,” you say with another curtsy as you turn to leave. As you walk away, you hear Princess Fuyumi, seated next to the queen, start “The knight with the red and white shield? Mother, isn’t that-”

The queen shushes her, and begins to say something that gets lost in the crowd as you make your way out of the box. You see several other ladies walking toward the field as well, each of them approaching one of the knights with water or towels in their hands.

Your knight has his visor up, a cup of water at his lips as he surveys his competition. His eyes catch you approaching, and they brighten as he turns toward you. He waits for you to approach, varicolored eyes watching you as you walk closer. 

“I told you I needed the luck,” he gestures to the favor, which he now has pinned to his breastplate.

“Your lance broke on the first hit,” you offer your handkerchief to him, which he accepts gratefully. He dabs at the sweat on his brow, and you’re briefly distracted by how unfair it is that he looks so handsome while sweating. It makes his skin glisten in the summer sun, highlighting his high cheekbones. 

With his hair pushed back inside his helmet, you can get a good look at his face, and you notice the scar that surrounds one of his eyes. It makes him look dashing, you decide. 

“But I stayed in the saddle,” he reminds you. He goes to return the handkerchief, but his hand halts midair. “May I return this to you after I’ve had a chance to wash it?”

“That would be preferable.”

“I’ll need to know who to return it to,” he looks at you hopefully. “Will you tell me your name?”

“I already told you, I’m no one of consequence,” you sniff, turning your head to survey the arena and crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’re seated in the queen’s box,” he points out. “That makes you of consequence.”

“There are servants in the queen’s box too.” 

He starts to ask another question, but the herald’s trumpets interrupt him. Something in his expression makes you pause as you turn to go back to the queen’s box. “Uh, good luck out there,” you offer, smiling at him tentatively.

His answering smile is luminous, before his squire grabs his attention and begins preparing him to enter the arena. You begin the walk back to the queen’s box, turning over the thought in your head that your knight has a very cute dimple.

#todoroki shouto x reader #shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki shouto #my hero x reader #my hero academia #kaiawrites

[averysmolbear]

A/N: This is loosely based on a post for selfshippers about going grocery shopping with your fave. It won’t exactly follow the post but it seemed like it was worth it to mention, also because this will be selfship coded and there's a tiny possibility there was one selfship in particular in my mind as I wrote it but I'll never tell!

CW: This is very much not proofread! It’ll be all fluff. Just a lot of fluff. If you don’t like fluff, avoid this at all costs. This is also featuring an established relationship between the character and reader. No actual character is named in this but they will be referred to as “boyfriend” in this fic. Pet names will be likely used as well (babe, baby, etc.) and I tried to make the reader fairly gender neutral. There really shouldn’t be much else but if I think of anything, I will add that here!

tagging @humanitys-strongest-bamf

You tossed the cloth reusable bags into the shopping cart. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you pulled out your phone to find the shopping list you and your boyfriend had made at home. You felt his arms wrap around you from behind and you laughed softly.

"Pretty sure you're going to make it difficult for me to walk around if you stay where you are," you teased with a small smile. You didn't even look over you shoulder to know it was him. You knew you'd recognize the feeling of his arms anywhere.

He pressed a couple of soft kisses to your shoulder with a soft laugh of his own before slowly shifting to stand beside you, an arm around your waist. "Better, angel?"

You looked over at him and nodded before starting to push the cart around the store. It was slow going, each of you checking and double checking the list and taking things off of it whenever something was added to the cart. As you passed the bakery, however, you decided to sneak some cupcakes into the cart, carefully placing them inside so the frosting wouldn't end up all over the package.

You caught the look that you were given and so you offered up your sweetest smile, getting him to give in a lot quicker than you had expected. And it wasn't going to be the first treat that you slipped into the cart, hoping that your boyfriend wouldn't notice.

He expected it at this point. You would see one of the brightly color SALE signs on a shelf and suddenly you're trying to justify to him why you needed to buy several boxes of sugary cereal. And he would inevitably give in after listening to you go on and on about the savings and whatever other argument you made in favor of picking up the extra items. Sometimes he didn't even bother debating you about it. He knew it would end up in the cart one way or another after all.

The list was followed to the letter, however, and you were chipping away at the last of it as the two of you entered the refrigerated area. Somehow, to his surprise, you had passed on grabbing a particular brand of potato chips that happened to be on sale and only got the things on the list (excluding the cupcakes). He thought that maybe, just this once, the two of you would make it out of the store without too many extras.

He had gone to get a dozen of eggs while you were picking out a non-dairy milk alternative when you spotted the flavored milks. They were 2 for $5 for the half gallon size and you slipped a banana milk and a strawberry milk into the cart after looking over your shoulder to see if your boyfriend had noticed.

He came back to the cart and carefully set the carton of eggs in it, starting to reorganize a bit of the things already in the cart. He was frowning as he saw the latest additions.

"Angel?"

"Yes, baby?"

The way that you gave him big doe eyes when you spoke was enough to break him already so he sighed and just rearranged a few things instead of even asking. When he saw your triumphant little smile, he decided that it was worth it. Sometimes giving in and letting you have your little indulgences didn't seem so bad when he could see how happy it made you.

Of course the milks were followed by a tube of premade chocolate chip cookie dough and another tube of the sugar cookie dough. Then came the 2 packages of jumbo cinnamon rolls. You were quick to justify the purchases, pointing out that they were on sale and you wanted to bake anyway. This would just be a short cut to a few extra baked goods in the house.

And, of course, he just sighed and made room in the cart for the items. He pointed out that the two of you were going to be over budget if you kept adding things so you promised not to add anything else.

That promise lasted until you both made your way through the ice cream aisle in the freezer sections.

"But they're on sale. And you can get your favorite flavor."

The sweet way you made the proposition, following it up with a quick kiss made him cave in. He grumbled as he looked for a carton of his favorite though before he was, as usual, adjusting the items in the cart to make it easier when you made it to the checkout. He knew that if it was up to you, you would just toss everything into the cart and leave it up to fate when you got ready to checkout.

He always pointed out that it was the reason that it took you twice as long in the store but the truth was that it took you twice as long because you ended up wandering the aisles, coming home with more unnecessary purchases than the necessary ones. He, at least, had the good sense not to bring that up usually.

The closer that you got to the checkout lanes, the more you seemed to be on the lookout for sale items and your boyfriend was starting to feel like he was having to guide you through the store to ensure nothing else made it into the cart.

The checkout process was quick, as usual when you went shopping together, and he insisted on bagging the groceries. That just meant that you tossed a couple of candy bars on to the conveyor belt while he was too busy to notice. You quickly paid before he could make a comment about the total and you smiled warmly as you handed him his favorite candy. You saw him faintly smile as he took it although he outwardly complained about your impulse buy as you made your way to the car.

"Next week I'm going grocery shopping alone," he stated very matter-of-factly as the two of you loaded up the car with the bags.

You gave him your best big doe eyes and slight pout. He sighed and closed the trunk with a shake of his head.

"Fine, we'll go together. But try to stick to the list next week. Please?"

You quickly kissed his cheek before heading for the passenger side of the car. "No promises."

#tessie writes #aot x reader #aot x y/n #snk x reader #snk x y/n #bllk x reader #bllk x y/n #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mcu x reader #mcu x y/n #comfort character x reader #comfort character x y/n #f/o x reader #selfship imagines #f/o imagines

[soo-won]

Yona and Keishuk as representations of Suwon's feelings and pragmatism.

Disclaimer: Yona, Keishuk and Suwon are obviously their own persons with dozens of more layers than what I talk about in this post. The scenes I use as examples are also about much more than what I use them for here. All of this is just one way I like to read things and I don't claim that the manga is meant to be read that way at all (the contrary honestly). This is just me having fun overanalyzing everything.

Something that has been on my mind since chapter 232 now, is the idea that Yona and Keishuk represent perfectly the duality inside of Suwon. I have loved this trio for all the potential they hold since the castle arc now, and I didn't get as much as I wanted with them at all but this specific page of chapter 232 still makes me "oooooh".

(Long post under the cut. sorry)

I know the important part comes just after with the "You are needed." Suwon-Yona scene, but I think the composition is super interesting here. Yona and Keishuk are having a full conversation, debating over what to do about Mei-nyan, and Suwon doesn't participate at all (he only enters the conversation next page but doesn't say anything on that matter specifically until chapter 233, when he makes his decision). As if quietly listening to both sides and considering all the points they present. Yes saving Mei-nyan is a bother, why should they do so much for one captive? Yes it's also dangerous to let her in enemy hands given the informations she has against Suwon. It's not farfetched to imagine Suwon can agree to both of their statements. Suwon is hidden by the bubbles of their conversation, erasing himself to give room to their discussion. It's as if we were inside Suwon's head and being a spectator of his trains of thoughts, as if Yona and Keishuk were two parts of Suwon's psyche. They're obviously their own independant characters outside of that with their own merits and personality etc ect but I think it's still interesting to read their dynamic this way.

After all, didn't Yona always represent for Suwon his own feelings? And Keishuk the lack of them? Discarding Yona (and Hak, but I think Yona especially represents that) has always been synonym to discarding his feelings. By discarding her, Suwon discards that he is not a 100% impartial human being that loves (and hates) some people more than others, and that he actually cares and cannot always 100% control his heart. The reason he discarded Yona when the coup happened is because his feelings don't matter from that point on and are directly in the way of his goals. And one of the reason he rejected her so much in the castle and kai battle arcs is exactly because she means something special to him and she keeps trying to appeal to Suwon's heart and feelings (by making several references to Yonhi for example, but also simply by being herself and asking Suwon to save the prisoners, etc) and tries to make the situations personal, two things that Suwon forced himself to stop and not do for a plethora of reasons I won't develop here.

(About Yonhi, the manga has made a connection between Yona and Yonhi a few times? One thing is Yonhi's hairpin that Yona also wears on one of the magazine cover, and there are the few mentions Yona makes of her in front of Suwon. I don't think the manga tries to say that Yona=Yonhi at all, but rather that Yona acts as some sort of reminder of her to Suwon? After all, there's close to no one left in the world who knew her, and even less in the castle and around Suwon in contrast to how Suwon grew up and is surrounded by Yuhon's faction and people admiring him. But most people forgot about Yonhi or never thought much of her. So I assume post-diary Yona tries to balance things out a little bit on that aspect, showing that even if people see Suwon as Yuhon's successor, he is also at his core his mother's son and it's sad to pretend he is not.

In parallel, even if not as explicitely as Yona (as I don't remember Keishuk ever mentioning Yuhon in front of Suwon?) Keishuk is one of the many reminder of Yuhon to Suwon. Keishuk definitely isn't Yuhon either, but the way he thinks and his ideology are similar enough. So you could say that Yona and Keishuk are Yonhi and Yuhon's voices in the present.)

In parallel Keishuk represents the exact opposite of listening to your feelings. Keishuk needs analysis posts for him alone, but even though he is obviously not without emotions at all, his place and role by Suwon's side is precisely to present him things as objectively as possible and make the most practical and efficient decisions, leaning towards machiavellianism (and I love him for that <3). Plus, contrary to Suwon, Keishuk doesn't have any emotional attachment for Yona and Hak, so while Suwon can rarely think straight when it's about them, Keishuk can, and is essential. Suwon would have never made it like he's engaged to Yona, he would have never proposed an alliance with her in the first place, nor would he have asked her to support him on the battlefield on his own. Before the alliance, Keishuk also investigated on the DDHHB behind Suwon's back, and tried to kill Yona and Hak several times because he knew they would be/have become a nuisance, while Suwon overlooked what Yona could/does represent because of his feelings.

Keishuk takes the decisions Suwon can't. And I think a part of Suwon is aware of that. Keishuk is like a point of reference and the reason he has Keishuk by his side and lets him do all these things is because he agrees that these actions are sounded and benefit Kouka in some way. Suwon would have never imprisoned Hak himself, but when Keishuk tells him about it, Suwon doesn't object. When in chapter 2 Keishuk tells Suwon to kill Yona, he doesn't object either, and readies himself to do so.

Keishuk is Suwon's speaker. Suwon rarely voices his true thoughts but Keishuk as a proxy often gives us an idea. His personality makes him more snarky and they don't agree on everything, but Suwon knows that Keishuk will always absolutely prioritizes Kouka as a whole over everything else and he can trust that. And that's also why I think Keishuk can represent one part of Suwon's psyche. He is the part of Suwon that shows no remorse for his colder decisions and is resolved to make any sacrifices needed for the sake of his goals. He is the part of Suwon that refuses to let himself be moved by his emotions and unable to make sound decisions because of it, the part of himself that won't prioritize someone only out of love or compassion.

And Yona is you could say the speaker of Suwon's feelings. Take the Hak imprisonment fiasco for example. This is a moment that shows a bit of Keishuk's vulnerability, but if you decide to read every interaction between Keishuk and Yona as some kind of metaphor of Suwon's inner conflict it's also super interesting. Keishuk wants to kill Hak because he is a threat to Suwon's life: simple and straigthforward. Keishuk doesn't love Hak and is still afraid of the danger he represents for Suwon's life at that point and very much doesn't like how Hak tries to get closer to Suwon without his approval. These are points very specific to Keishuk as an individual, related to his backstory and his personality. But this very reactive answer to Hak suddenly getting too close to Suwon is also very befitting of how Suwon feels imo. Suwon doesn't know Hak was here at that point sure, but on a meta level rejecting Hak so extremely the second he gets too close and sees him at a weak point just makes sense. Hak was the very last person Suwon wanted to be seen by this way. And him not objecting to his imprisonment is for me a sign that he is okay with things this way. He doesn't want Hak to get close. It's better like this. If Hak gets close, he can't think straight in more way than one. So let's discard him.

But then Yona enters and stops Keishuk. This scene is meant to show Yona's development and how she is able to protect Hak her own way and how Hak's life is not something she will ever compromise on, things that are distinct to her as an individual as well. But if you see Yona's rise in the castle as the rise of Suwon's closeted feelings, getting harder and harder to repress, it also shows that it got to the point where these feelings directly clash with his usual mindset, that these feelings for Hak have enough power to put a curb on the "discard every piece in your way" ideology.

Suwon is a secretive person who learned to keep most of his thoughts and feelings to himself. He is by nature someone who doesn't react to tragedies the way you would expect him to, looking detached and unconcerned. But what Akayona showed again and again is that by no mean this is equal to him being indifferent and not feeling anything at all. This is just his way of processing and dealing with grief(I'm not gonna go on a tangent on how he can be read as neurodivergent but yeah. he's so real for that). Being openly emotional like Keishuk and Yona is just not who he is as a person, it happens but only rarely, so the two of them are the perfect proxy to show the turmoil going on in Suwon's heart. Whether it's when Suwon is annoyed and angry, or when he's worried about Hak's whereabouts, they're his voice. (Interestingly Keishuk seems to be the only one convinced Hak is dead and thinks as such. Something something Suwon swaying between hoping that Hak is still alive somewhere(like Yona) and giving up on that hope(like Keishuk).)

But Suwon is not Keishuk. And actually a lot of times when Keishuk advises Suwon to kill someone, Suwon compromises to only capturing and imprisoning them or even lets them escape in Yona and Hak's cases. And one of the way I choose to interpret the Kai battle arc like is that it's all about Suwon accepting his own feelings, that even if he agrees with his father's ideology, he is his own person and he can't keep discarding the part of him that cares and loves and worries and feels. He can't keep discarding Yona and Hak. Yes Yona is needed, his own feelings are needed.

And he is not Yona either. That's why he still sees saving Mei-nyan as a nuisance. Suwon is Suwon, and being able to look at things calmly and evalutating the risks and costs of an action over another and making his decisions based on that is still very much a part of him that you can't remove.

He is somewhere between Yona and Keishuk. A King who inherently prioritizes the bigger number over a few individuals, and yet someone who genuinely likes the people around him and can be swayed by his own emotions. He is very much both his parents' child. And he has to learn to reconcile both, without discarding one or the other.

Going even further, Yona being a proxy of Suwon's feelings fits perfectly the role she has now. She always tries to help the people that Suwon discards for his goals and he used to not let her do so, as a symbol for closing himself off completely, but now he accepts it (with still some reluctance but hey!) and knows he can entrust her with it. I don't think this is inherently a bad thing and it works well with Keishuk as a parallel again, as Suwon always entrusted him with all the logistics and the things he doesn't like to think about. Keishuk also often carries the bad role and direct the negativity at him (on purpose or not) so it doesn't reach Suwon. So like, to each their own role.

TDLR: Yona and Keishuk are like the little angel and devil on Suwon's shoulders respectively telling him to save and kill.

#lumen ponders #(too much) #btw to anyone thinking keishuk wants power or manipulates suwon #please reread the manga. at last from vol27 idk what else to tell you #akayona #akatsuki no yona #yona #keishuk #kyesook #suwon #soowon #my special power is that i can make everything about suwon #i wanted the castle arc to be 100 chapters longer for more yona suwon keishuk shenaningans btw #they could have been so funny. it's so funny in my head #i could say sm more about the yona/keishuk parallels #one is liked by everyone the other has 0 in charisma #(he's a 10 to me but wtv) #both saw someone they care for be killed in front of their eyes and had to find a new meaning in their life afterwards #and both only wants the best for kouka. just in different ways bc of how different Yuhon and Il were #'even if you'd spared her life she'd only suffer' ok keishuk. ok. ok. ok #forget about the suwon/yona parallels this is the real shit!!! #i looove when two characters represents the conflicts in another character's heart #there's def a lot to be said about how keishuk is the one who asked Yona's help as well #he particularly finds Yona's useful for her unifying power. something he doesn't have at all #keishuk is so endearing to me in how he accepts he doesn't have the power to protect suwon #so he always has to rely on others. #his own way of protecting without physical strength ;; #the akayona is my head is so goated #didn't want to rant about my beef with the execution of all that. but rest assured im still a hater #akayona thoughts

[blackleatherjacketz]

Right Place, Right Time

Nomad Steve Rogers x Original Female Character

Summary: Nomad Steve is wandering the earth under a fake name after the devastation of Infinity War. He ends up staying in one place longer than he expected when he falls for the local doctor.

Warnings: ANGST, Pain, Medical Trauma, Emotional Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, People Pleasing, Acts of Service, Grief, Loss, Mentions of The Blip, Steve literally healing your wounds, Face-Holding, Kissing, Soul-Gazing and an Indiana Jones reference!

Word Count: 2.1K

Tags: @bullet-prooflove @letsby​​

Read more MARVEL stories!

A knock on the door causes her to jump as she puts the last of the antibiotics away, making sure to align them perfectly against the antihistamines before shutting the cabinet door and locking it. She sighs and turns around in preparation to face what she hopes will be her last visitor for the day, his handsome features a pleasant surprise as he leans against the doorway.

“You’re back,” she exclaims, not expecting him to return with more supplies until tomorrow morning.

“You’re hurt,” he points out, shooting a quick glance at the bandage on her arm that’s nearly completely soaked in blood.

“It’s nothing.” She tries to brush it off, just now realizing how heavy that arm actually feels as he stares at it from across the room.

Maybe the scab had broken open under its dressing sometime throughout the day and she just hadn’t noticed. Maybe the adrenaline of running the clinic and helping others with their own wounds had masked its sensation until she finally slowed down enough to feel it. Or maybe she had gotten used to working through so much pain after everything that happened since the blip, she wouldn’t realize that she needed help until someone like him pointed it out directly.

“Let me help,” he whispers, taking a few steps forward until he’s close enough to touch her. He brushes his hand over the back of her elbow just below her bandage, his fingertips forcing the tiny hairs underneath them to stand on end as he feathers them down her forearm toward her palm. “Let me see.”

“It's fine, I just…” she trails off, his chest now at her eyeline as his fingers intertwine with hers, firmly clasping onto them.

“Let me help,” he demands, his sapphire eyes deepening in color as he squeezes her hand. “Please.”

She takes a moment to allow herself to feel the pain as the tissue surrounding her cut begins to throb, weighing it down more with each second that passes. It’s been a few hours since she’d taken her last dose of ibuprofen, the little aid it brought her now quickly beginning to dwindle away. It hurts. A lot. Without the distraction of her work to keep her mind off of how bad it actually is, she’s finally able to admit that.

“Fine,” she concedes, relaxing her stance as he steps even closer, his natural scent swimming through her senses. Maybe she can let someone else take care of things… of her, for a change.

“How many times have you stitched me up before, huh?” He starts to grab the first aid kit on the counter behind her.

“A few,” she smiles through the pain as it pulses through her limb, his grip on her fingers barely enough to counter it.

“Don’t you think it’s about time I return the favor?” His smile transforms his face into one of the very few visages of joy she’s seen in days.

She remembers the first time she met him in the dead of night, covered in dust and blood as he helped evacuate the residents of the building next to her clinic. There were dozens of families that lived there, more than half of them torn apart by the blip and even more of them devastated by the destruction that followed. Law enforcement and healthcare workers were whittled down to less than nothing in the aftermath, serving as both a blessing and a curse as the lack of help failed to save the very few left that needed it most.

The chaos that ensued was immeasurable, keeping her up at night and spreading her thinner and thinner with each passing day until he showed up. He helped her get everyone to safety, setting them up with cots to sleep on and food to hold them over until relief finally came to take them to a more secure location. It was only then that he let her treat his wounds, a few lacerations on his face and arms and a giant rod of rebar sticking out of his abdomen that he’d broken in half. She insisted that he go to a hospital if he wanted to see his next sunrise, but he pushed back and explained that he was capable of healing faster than most. It was then that she figured out who he really was, but let him believe she thought he was just a stranger who happened to be in the right place at the right time.

“Well, I don’t need any stitches, I just need it cleaned and redressed. Can you wash your hands first?” She points to the sink behind him as he starts to reach for her dressing.

“Right.” He lets go of her and does as he’s told, returning to her side with them clean and carefully hovering in front of him. He stares at her intently, his smile straightening out into a serious scowl as he slowly peels the tape away from her skin. “How did this happen?”

“Some debris fell in the storm when I was… Ah!” She winces as he rips the hair off her skin, taking his sweet time removing the rest of it before he drops the soiled dressing onto the countertop.

“Damn, that’s deep.” He whispers to himself, not quite yet a master of his own bedside manner. He rotates her arm inward to get a better view of the trauma, squinting his eyes together as if that will somehow soften the harsh edges of her flesh. He grabs the half-used bottle of saline next to the first aid kit and asks if it’s the right one before pouring it down the back of her arm. “Sorry,” he makes a face as he spills some of it onto her pants as it drips down her elbow in a stream of crimson and rusty brown. “This was today?” He looks back up at her for confirmation.

“Last night,” she breathes out of her nose as the sterile solution stings the bed of her wound and cleans her out, forcing her to instinctively grab hold of his shoulder in the process.

“It’s okay,” he reassures her, squeezing her hand in return before setting the bottle down beside her. “It's okay, you’re okay.” He smiles again, succeeding at distracting her for a brief moment from the pain. He waits for her to smile back at him before breaking eye contact, nodding in reassurance before opening the package to the dressing. “You worked all day like this?”

She nods in silence.

He was more than enamored by her work ethic as she continued to trudge through the huddled masses day after day without regard for her own health or safety. As admirable as it was, it was obvious that she was going to work herself into the ground at this rate, forgoing her own needs in the process. She didn’t have the luxury of the serum to help her recover from injury or insomnia like he did, and it was becoming more obvious by the minute. His heart beats a guilty rhythm in his chest as he covers up the tangible evidence he could have easily prevented by speaking up sooner or being more present for her. “I’m sorry, I should have been there.”

“You can’t be everywhere at once, Steve.” She lets his real name slip out between winces, her statement proving to be just as much a lesson for her as it is for him.

“I know that.” He lets go of her hand, picking up the tape and peeling it off the track with his teeth so he can keep the pressure on her arm. It isn’t until he realizes what she’s called him that he stops what he’s doing altogether. He bites his lip and takes a breath, looking at his feet as he considers keeping up his act as Grant, the man he claimed to be when they first met, but decides against it as the look on her face tells him all he needs to know.

“I’m not an idiot, okay?” She looks up into his eyes as he places the tape around her bandage, taking great care to make it perfect before ripping off another piece with his canines.

“I don’t think that.” He sighs as he tapes another piece onto the bandage, the dressing remaining clean and intact for now. “I only said that because I…”

“Look, I don’t care what you call yourself: Steve, Grant, Martha, Joe.” She shrugs, “I’m just glad that you’re here.”

He finishes dressing her wound in silence before swallowing a dry lump in his throat, thinking of all the people he’d lost that day that he’d give anything to hear that from, that he’d give anything to tell that to before they disappeared. He wonders for a second how many people she had lost to the wind, if she had to witness them falling apart into nothingness like burnt embers floating off a campfire right before her eyes. He wonders if they were people that she was close to, if they were friends, family, or maybe even a lover. He’d been so caught up in his own grief that he forgot to acknowledge hers in this hurricane of nightmares they were both trying so desperately to navigate through.

“I’m glad I’m here, too.” He finishes his work on her arm and runs his palm over it to smooth out any rough edges, squeezing her shoulder affectionately on its way back up. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to be present, to put the horrors aside as his eyes travel over her shoulder and neck, noticing a cut on her cheek that’s mostly healed. “Is this from the storm, too?” He touches the skin just above it.

“Yeah.” She lets him turn her head to the side to get a better look, the warmth of his hand softening her features as he brings the opposite one up to gently cradle her face. She holds her breath as he looks her over, his somber eyes taking her in before guiding her face back toward the center, back toward him. He weaves his fingers into her hairline as his lips part, the calluses on his thumbs brushing over her temples as he brings her face even closer to his.

“You’ve got to be more careful,” he whispers, the weight of his words carrying the ghosts of his past along with them. “Please,” he kisses his request into her forehead, the fear of her joining them stronger than he cares to admit as he keeps his lips pressed tightly against her skin.

“I will.” She’s wanted to be this close to him for as long as she can remember, the needs of the many always outweighing her own until now. Here in his hands she finally feels safe enough to relax, to be a priority in someone else’s eyes, to have her own desires fulfilled with him if only for a fleeting moment.

“Promise me.” He inhales the scent of her hair before pulling back just enough to brush her nose with his, his fingers now massaging her scalp as he peers into her eyes.

“I promise.” Her heart skips a beat as his lashes fall down over visibly darkened eyes, despite the harsh fluorescent lighting above them. She can feel those lashes flutter softly against her as he kisses the wound on her cheek, keeping those lips on her as if he’s afraid of what will happen if he breaks contact.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” She hears him whisper against her ear, his chest now rising and falling in tandem with her own.

She nods her head within the confines of his grasp, pointing to the tip of her nose to see if the moves of her favorite fictional archaeologist will work on him. “Here.”

He kisses her nose before she repeats the word, pointing to her lips as he moves his head down to meet them with a hunger that nearly takes her breath away. She wraps her arms around his waist as she deepens the kiss, opening her mouth to get a taste of him as he quickly follows suit. His beard is soft but still scratches the skin around her mouth as his tongue meets hers. He savors every inch of her as they desperately cling to one another, breathing each other in as if their very survival depends on it. He smooths his hands down her neck and shoulders, forgetting about her wound until he squeezes the back of her arms, forcing her to gasp and withdraw.

“I’m sorry.” His brow furrows as she pulls back just enough for him to see the rush of blood flushing her cheeks and the bit of his saliva still on her lips. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, It’s okay,” she reassures him, hoping this is just a break in their momentum instead of a complete and utter halt. “I just haven’t taken anything for the pain in a while.”

“Are you due for anything now?” He kisses her again, this time more chastely as he strokes a strand of her hair away from her face. “And when’s the last time that you ate anything besides your usual three cups of coffee?”

“It’s been a while.” She smiles as his hands remain on her body, holding her close to him as they both begin to instinctively sway back and forth, dancing to a silent song that only their bodies can hear. She can feel her eyelids becoming heavier as she stares at him, resting her forehead against his as her muscles relax and her heart rate begins to slow.

“What do you say I walk you home?”

#Steve Rogers #Nomad Steve Rogers #Nomad Steve #Steve Rogers x Reader #Steve Rogers Fan Fiction #steve rogers x original female character #Steve Rogers x OFC #Captain America #Chris Evans #Marvel #Infinity War

[utilitycaster]

1/4 I want to preface this by saying that I'm not looking to convince you, nor do I expect you to agree. In fact, I'd like to hear a counterargument from somebody who is happy with how TLoVM adapted Vex and why the changes related to her character were good/necessary for the adaptation, bc as far as I see it right now, it easily could've been more faithful without additional screen time or significant changes made to TLoVM's story structure. So, what do you think of the criticism that her

2/4 backstory with Trinket is diluted by making her needing to be saved by Vax, him being the one to kill Trinket's mother and Vex reduced to just being helpless and then motherly afterwards. It takes what was originally a story about survival of a woman in terrible conditions and doing something kind along the way for someone else and turns it into motherly damsel in distress. The important character choice that she never even tells Vax (or anyone) how she got Trinket is also lost this way.

3/4 "Unproven ally, selfish and cruel" being cut from Saundor's speech when it affected her just as much, if not more so than "unwanted daughter". His words haunt her for over a dozen episodes later and she's worried she made the wrong choice during the fight by refusing his offer. It troubles her thinking that he was right and that she's endangering those she loves most, the family that she's chosen, and it's simply cut and reduced to her daddy issues. Her self-worth only revolves around the

4/4 men in her life. Her death isn't about her, only about how it affects Percy and Vax. Percy never apologizes to her for getting her killed, but he apologizes to Vax twice. She's never her own person with agency outside the men in her life, just a sister, just a love interest, just a daughter.

-----

I am going to answer this below. Against my better judgement I have included your four part ask in its entirety but for future reference, I would advise that if you wish to hear someone’s opinion, that’s fine, but it is better to ask it concisely rather than doing the equivalent of nailing a somewhat less antisemitic* 95 Theses to someone’s metaphorical door. Had you asked your original anon question as “I am not enjoying Vex’s plot in TLOVM- it feels very centered on the men in her life in a way I don’t recall it being in Campaign 1. You seem to be enjoying it, so could you tell me what you liked” this would be a much different and far more pleasant conversation.

Also I should note that you called me dumb and gullible in your ask this morning. And that’s fine, because I don’t know who you are or value any of your opinions, but it does make me disinclined to treat you with anything but bemused contempt, and indeed, I will do that.

Finally: gender and pronouns are not strictly connected and if you are a he/him lesbian or similar I redact this statement (though none of the others). But, if you are a indeed a man, as a woman being asked to give my opinion after you tell me yours, at length, which I did not ask for and indeed indicated that I hated it yet you reproduced it in full for a second time in my inbox, the irony of you handwringing that Vex (fictional woman)’s plot isn’t very Spice Girls Girl Power of them while insulting and making demands of me (actual human woman who exists and who’s already hinted extensively to the point of outright saying that I’m getting pissed off) is not lost.

*this post is not antisemitic other than the fact that I’m Jewish and I find it annoying. Do not cancel OP for antisemitism; I am making a joke.

Anyway. If you were looking for a good counterargument, and had the research skills my high school librarian taught, you might have come across this article which is a very good discussion of Vex’s arc, and I recommend you read it.

For my take, please see below the cut.

Here’s the thing about Vex. Her main relationships are with men. She is frequently bitchy, at times bordering on bullying, towards Keyleth - and it’s at its peak during the early Conclave Arc. She gets along well with Pike, but Pike is frequently absent during the campaign, and more importantly, friends are not going to reach the level of “twin brother who has literally been the only person by her side for much of her life and her sole confidant early in the campaign” and “man she’s deeply in love with and will one day marry." Her issues, meanwhile, are because her father treated her as less-than, and so she tried to become cold and perfect and powerful to ensure that never happened. Her story is extremely about how her personality is shaped by her relationships with men. It is dismissive of that story to claim otherwise. (And, for what it's worth, this is a very real story that many women can relate to and which frequently gets criticized in fantasy by people with a poor understanding of both women and genre, my two true passions, but that's a separate post.)

As for the Trinket story specifically, the fact that Vax helps rescue her is not the central part of the story; the central part of that story is her rescuing Trinket, and perhaps seeing herself in that motherless bear, which is maintained in the adaptation. We see Vex’s self-sufficiency elsewhere, in the “do not go far from me” sequence; but more importantly it’s not a “dilution” to have her need help to be rescued from a camp and then immediately rescue someone else. It’s in fact a fairly smart echo of the lesson Vex ultimately strives to learn, that it’s not weak to need or indeed ask for help. The fact that you see this as “motherly damsel in distress” says far more about how you see even the slightest hint of a teenage girl needing help as automatic damsel territory than it says about Vex’s depiction.

“Unproven ally, selfish and cruel” is something I’ve always considered to be specific to the broom incident. How is she an unproven ally in the series? This would require a setup that simply does not exist. Saundor’s words instead focus on what is ultimately the crux of their conversation; Vex’s possessiveness and her need for approval. He is intended as a dark mirror, of someone who never got the love they craved and so became a source of poison for everything around them. Saundor says quite a lot of words in their talk in Campaign 1, and as far as I can recall there’s no indication that those five you quoted are the specific ones that upset her rather than his whole “we’re not so different, you and I” (and the “unwanted daughter”, which, you know, he leads with) deal. He still hits those main points, and, in a hilariously unintentional pun, it seems that you cannot see the forest for the tree.

And as for her death: her death was always primarily about how it affected Vax and Percy, at least in the immediate aftermath. We see some of her recklessness, and some of the positives as well - how she responds to Keyleth and Vax’s relationship - in the show, but perhaps the single most defining moment of the entire Vox Machina campaign is in fact Vax making his offer to the Raven Queen, which he does because Vex dies. It is, in fact, relatively rare under any circumstances that someone’s death isn’t about their nearest and dearest’s responses. The Percy and Vax conversation is not only quite similar to the one they had in the campaign; we actually left off the part where Vex’s immediate response after her own death was to make Keyleth cry in order to understand why Vax was being weird, and then comfort Vax and give him the armor. With all due respect, how the fuck did you miss that Vex’s death in the Sunken Tomb was always almost entirely about Vax. I mean, I can't stand when people make Vex's life post-campaign about Vax's death, but Vax's life was in fact shaped almost entirely by Vex's death.

I don’t see any lack of agency, either. Vex is still making her own choices in the Feywild - in fact, rather than backed up by Vox Machina, she is alone for the Saundor fight while the others fight off his lesser tree goons, and she makes the kill despite her bow being broken, using nothing but her determination and wit. I am truly sorry for you that you apparently see this as nothing but love interest material, and that in general you seem to see a story that is about someone learning how to let herself rely on others and say “damn, that bitch seems to be relying too much on others.”

Anyway, in conclusion, what I think of the criticism presented in the posing of this question is that it relies on an analysis that one could perhaps magnanimously call “flat and superficial, but also demonstrating little to no understanding of the character’s arc in either the source nor adaptation.”

#answered #megalvrubikon #tlovm spoilers #cr tag #long post

[dramioneasks]

Hiiii!

So I am newwww to the dramione world and unfortunately my adventure started with Manacled and was follow by The Auction. So now I am desperately searching a fic that is anywhere near as good as Manacled. I read that entireeee thing in three days because I was hooked!

I started both breathmints/battle scars and Isolation and as it turns out, asshole Draco does not do it for me, I need a bit more depth to be intrigued. (Don’t get me wrong, both lovely fics, but doesn’t have my preference)

So would you have any recommendations with a good in depth character build and a good plot?

Thaaaanks a million!!

Hi, try these:

Wait and Hope by mightbewriting - M, 12 Chapters - “Harry,” Hermione began, voice very controlled, but she could feel the blade of panic slicing at her vocal cords. “Why was Draco Malfoy just screaming bloody murder about his,” and the word almost strangled her as she said it, “wife?”  Harry's green eyes blew wide. Healer Lucas pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly displeased with the recent series of events.“He was referring to you, my dear,” she said. “That was the other question you got wrong. Your name is Hermione Jean Granger-Malfoy.” Hermione had to be sedated again. [In which Hermione loses the last six year's worth of her memories, including the entirety of her relationship and marriage to Draco.]

And its prequel:

Beginning and End by mightbewriting - E, 48 Chapters - Years. Broken into months into weeks into days—into hours, minutes, seconds—into moments. Simple at one end, complex at the other. In Draco’s experience, moments, even when simple, had a habit of becoming irretrievable. Moments grew, stretched, multiplied into ages and eras that defined whole stretches of measurable time. Draco regretted several moments in his life, some within his control, some without: all of them irretrievable in nature. At a certain point, wedged between ‘what-ifs’ of his own devising, he’d stopped trying to keep track of those regrettable moments: now and then, pushing and pulling, coming and going, beginning and end. Moments were only moments for just as long. After that, he had no control. [In which Draco is forced to work with Hermione, falls in love, makes many mistakes, and eventually becomes his own man. A Draco POV prequel to Wait and Hope.]

The Politician's Wife by pir8fancier - M, 14 Chapters - This story is set twenty-three years after the fall of Voldemort. Our main characters are Ministry employees, middle-aged, and the majority of them not very happy.

Apple Pies and Other Amends by ToEatAPeach - M, 29 Chapters - It’s not until she’s brought a basil and strawberry sponge cake to Neville Longbottom and his new girlfriend, Hannah Abbott, a dozen rhubarb hand-pies to Luna and Xenophilius Lovegood, and another basket of ganache-covered muffins to Dean and Seamus, that Hermione admits to herself what she’s actually doing: she’s making a thing of this. It’s a veritable PTSD tour. With pastries. And hand-skimmed clotted cream. And she has no idea why she’s doing it, but it’s becoming very apparent that she is. Sometimes you're sad. Sometimes you need dessert. And sometimes, it's a little of both.

Measure Of A Man by inadaze22 - E, 42 Chapters -To truly know someone is to differentiate between who they once were, who they are now, and who they're capable of being. Hermione realises the duality of one man as she rectifies what she knows of the past and begins to understand the pieces of who Draco Malfoy is now: a father, a son, and a man.

Traditions by raven_maiden - E, 14 Chapters - She straddled him slowly, still biting her lip, her hands on his shoulders. He held her hips tightly as he stared up at her.“So beautiful,” he whispered, and she flushed prettily, like she always did from his compliments. “You never need to hide from me.” ** Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy fell in love during the war. One year later, they're heading home for the holidays so he can finally meet her parents. There's just one teeny little problem: her parents think they're both Muggles.

Love and Other Misfortunes by senlinyu - M, 23 Chapters - Draco Malfoy is dying. He's part-Veela and needs his mate to survive. Post-war, Hermione Granger is a workaholic, up to her eyeballs in legal activism on behalf of Magical Beings, and hasn't yet noticed that Malfoy is the Magical Being who needs her most.“Because I don’t want to be saved by you just because you feel like you have to.” He was properly furious now. “I’m in love with you." Hermione stared at him. She knew but somehow hearing him say it made the air shimmer with magic. "I’m in love with you,” he said again, despairingly. “And that means I want you to be as happy as you possibly can. And you won’t be, not with me.”

Remain Nameless by HeyJude19 - E, 51 Chapters - How did it feel? It felt like he was barely holding it together. She, of all people, should shun him. Or yell at him. Curse him. Spit at him. Take out her wand and blast him off the face of the earth. It was crushing guilt and relief and confusion all at once when he looked at Hermione Granger. The monotony of Draco’s daily routine had become both a lifeline and a noose. But this new habit of grabbing coffee with Hermione Granger is quickly becoming a reason to get out of bed and is unfortunately forcing him to re-evaluate his inconsequential existence. Hermione is living her life in fragments, separate pieces scattered about, and she can’t find a way to step back and let the full picture form. Why are morning meetings with Draco Malfoy the only thing that make sense anymore?

The Eagle's Nest by HeartOfAspen - M, 71 Chapters - Hermione's eighth year at Hogwarts is already going to be difficult in the aftermath of the war, but is further thrown into upheaval when Headmistress McGonagall orders a re-sorting of all students to promote inter-house unity. But when the Sorting Hat sends Hermione to Ravenclaw with Draco - and without Harry or Ron - how will she cope? [Epilogue? What epilogue?] Prevalent alchemy.

Gravity by floorcoaster - T, 10 Chapters - It's about arranging stacks of books, wall colours, and jumping off a cliff. Draco/Hermione

The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man by ianthewaiting - E, 28 Chapters - Ten years after the fall of the Dark Lord, Hermione Granger leads of life of self-imposed obscurity, that is, until the day Headmistress Minerva McGonagall is murdered and a certain 'hero' is responsible.

Don't Take This Sinner by hexmionegranger - E, 25 Chapters - Hermione Granger couldn’t help but think that no matter how difficult they had all figured rebuilding their society would be, no one was expecting anything quite like this. It was another stark reminder that just when things were finally starting to level out, they would never truly have peace and stability. Her entire life in the magical world had been full of shocks and stumbles, and this one seemed like the biggest of them all. A post-war Dramione marriage law fic... with a twist!

Seven Days in April by inadaze22 - M, 7 Chapters - They were still the same people with the same problems on either side of a bathroom door.

He Becomes by Abroma - T, one-shot - Things keep worming their way into Draco's heart and, to be honest, he's sick of it. Or: Draco fosters bunnies to impress a co-worker.

Aurelian by BittyBlueEyes - T, 43 Chapters - Two years after the war, a young stranger pays a visit to the burrow. His arrival alone is baffling, but the news he brings of an upcoming war turns the world upside down. Hermione's quiet, post-war life will never be the same.

Revert by SUPRNTRAL LVR - M, 25 Chapters - Six months post-war, Malfoy is in serious trouble. He's on the run from the Ministry, Death Eaters, and a deadly curse which is eating him alive. When he hits rock bottom, a change in fortune lands him in 12 Grimmauld Place under the Ministry's custody - and forces Hermione to remember the secrets they've both kept for years. Dramione, Sick!Draco, flashbacks to Hogwarts

Heavy Lies the Crown by floorcoaster - M, 36 Chapters - For seven years, Draco has carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and just when he thinks he'll be released, something happens that will make him seek help from the last person he could have imagined.

- AgnMag

#kieks-cx #draco: redeemed

[hero-deserves-to-be-happy]

12 years after the good ending of OMORI, Hero reflects on the unexpected turns his life has taken. He wasn't the same person he used to be and knew he would never be that person again. After such a devastating loss, he had truly believed he could never be happy again, but things were different now...

OR Hero finds healing and loves again (the abridged version).

Past Hero/Mari and Current Hero/Zoey (OC) Slice of Life, Romance, and Hurt/Comfort.

Rated G. Spoilers for OMORI and some discussion of canonical character death, grief and mourning.

Word Count: 4,950. Full Text Below the Cut. Link to the Work on AO3.

A/N: Both of us creators are passionate Hero/Mari shippers, but we are also huge believers that Hero deserves to be happy and that Mari would want him to be happy. He might not ever be ready to move on and might not ever want a romantic relationship like that again, but if he did, this story is just a little glimpse into what we hope it would be like. It's a delicate situation, and we hope this little story has done justice to his grief and the kinds of struggles he would experience in moving on while also realizing it doesn't mean he has to forget.

This story includes specific references to the other stories in the "When Sun Shines Again" series (particularly "Am I Ready For Love Or Maybe Just A Best Friend?"), but this should stand alone and work as a sort of abridged version and epilogue to everything else so reading the other stories is unnecessary. The cover is Mod Sprinkles' art with the title graphics free to use from Canva. Thanks for reading! ☂️

“I missed this, you know…”

With a flick of the spatula, Hero flipped the egg he was currently frying, but he smiled—turning to Zoey with warm, affectionate eyes. “Yeah, me too. It’s been too long. Sorry…” He sighed wearily as he stirred the sauce for his chilaquiles. “We used to have brunch all the time…”

His voice trailed as he thought of the pediatric PM&R residency that had been running him ragged for the past five years leaving barely any time for anything else. Gone were the days of making brunch every Sunday for his friends like he had back in college. Most days he couldn’t even find the time to make himself a sandwich.

Zoey chuckled as she tucked a piece of short red hair behind her ear. “I meant I missed you, Hero—not brunch.” As she leaned over the counter, her light, teasing laugh wrinkled her freckled nose. “I would have been perfectly happy picking something up from that bagel place down the street and just sitting here doing nothing. You didn’t have to cook for me on your only morning off this week.”

“I know, but I wanted to,” he insisted with a gentle smile as he met her green eyes. “I feel like I never see you anymore.”

“It’s okay. You’re a medical resident,” she replied in that matter-of-fact way of hers. “I don’t expect to see you.”

Hero sighed heavily. He supposed she had a point. Residency was…a lot. Truthfully, he felt like he didn’t see anybody anymore. Something guiltily coiled in his stomach as he thought about his missed calls from Kel or Sally’s dance recital he had had to skip out on. He had rescheduled on his parents about half-a-dozen times when they had wanted him to go through some boxes of his stuff they had found in their garage, and he had missed Sunny’s daughter’s first birthday when he just couldn’t get out of work.

Despite his best efforts to be present for his loved ones, he had to develop a code system to classify emergencies. These days it was nearly impossible to get ahold of him unless someone texted him “Tea Time” indicating they needed immediate assistance that just couldn’t wait.

It was Zoey’s idea, but she had never used it.  

If Hero was being honest, that made him feel particularly guilty. He couldn’t stand the fact that he felt spread so thin he didn’t have much left over to give her. She didn’t seem to mind though—usually shrugged it off with insistences that she was busy with her own career too, her dream job: building bridges as a civil engineer. Perhaps that was part of what worked for them. She was so independent—never needed what he couldn’t give her, but that didn’t mean he wanted that for her. He couldn’t help but feel she deserved so much better, so much more than what he had to offer…and not just in terms of his time and attention.

“You have to work again this afternoon, right?” asked Zoey pulling him out of his thoughts. When he nodded, she added, “Just don’t wear yourself out, okay?”

“I’ll try my best.”

As he turned to crack another egg, he caught sight of Zoey’s hard hat on the counter. “Do you have to work today too?”

She shrugged. “Technically no, but I said I’d swing by the building site.”

“In this weather?” Hero’s brow furrowed as he glanced out the window watching the violent pattering of the rain against the glass. “It’s really coming down out there.”

“It’s fine. I have an umbrella.” She waved her hand dismissively motioning to the corner where she had placed the familiar red umbrella she had let him borrow the night they officially met twelve years ago. It was hard to believe it had been that long. “Besides you know I don’t mind the rain,” she added with a smile. “And this helmet’s water resistant.”

“Nice hat,” Hero gently teased—the slightest twitch of a smile curling in the corners of his mouth as she playfully nestled the thick plastic rim into her short red hair.

“You really do love this hard hat, don’t you? You want to try it on or something?”

Hero laughed but shook his head. “I’m not sure it would look nearly as good on me.”

Zoey’s lips curved into a teasing smile. “Oh but everything looks good on you, Mr. Prince,” she quipped, and Hero couldn’t stifle his laugh at her use of the rather cheeky nickname she had given him back in their undergrad. He was honestly surprised it had stuck around this long—though these days she only used it when she was playfully teasing him. “Even those bright green scrubs. I’m going to miss them when you’re not a resident anymore, you know?”

Hero chuckled but sighed as he adjusted his shirt under his apron—medical resident green as Aubrey probably would have said. He had honestly forgotten he was wearing scrubs right now as he had been planning to change into different ones right before he left for the hospital, but they had been the only thing clean in his closet. He really needed to do laundry though he didn’t mind scrubs and definitely hadn’t minded the color. Still he conceded, “I think the lab coat will be better. Just a few more weeks of these. It’s honestly kind of hard to believe it’s almost over.”

Zoey chuckled then dryly teased, “What are you going to do with all that extra time?”

Hero tilted his head. “I have a few ideas…”

“Is one of them getting a good night’s sleep? Because I think you should bump that up to the top of the list.”

“Yeah…” he chuckled before giving the sauce another stir and flipping his eggs. That wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. Instead he felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he thought about his Mamá Alma’s engagement ring he had recently picked up from his safety deposit box at the bank. When his grandmother had given it to him years ago, he had honestly thought he would never use it, but despite his protests that he could never love again and her beautiful jewelry would waste away in a vault forever, she had just patted his cheek calling him ‘concinerito’ just like she used to do when he was a little boy and said, ‘El corazón hace espacio’—‘the heart makes room.’

For a very long time he hadn’t really believed that or at least, hadn’t really understood it, but, as unbelievable as it was, things were different now.

Zoey had been his best friend for over a decade, and he had loved her for years without realizing it or, rather, without being ready to accept it. Even though everyone they knew would have insisted it was a long time coming by the time he had finally asked her out for a cup of coffee three years ago, it still didn’t seem real. When Mari had died, Hero had genuinely believed he never would and never even could feel that way about anyone ever again, and truthfully, he had been planning to never really move on. But…there was just something about Zoey. To this day, he still couldn’t even begin to describe or explain the way he felt about her—the way she made him feel things he didn’t know he could feel anymore. The way her smile healed something in him. The way he could look into her eyes and see a future, a life he had never imagined was possible for him anymore. The way she made him believe he could be happy again—made him believe he could love again.

There was no one else in the world like her. She was brilliant, driven, and really spunky—a little rough around the edges but so empathetic, so much softer than she wanted people to know and an amazing friend. Back in college when he never would have imagined he would eventually date her, they used to stay up until all hours of the night making sandwiches and drinking tea whenever their fraternity and sorority hosted parties and they’d just talk for hours about anything, everything. She was so passionate, especially about bridges and her dreams of wanting to build them someday. Hero could have listened to her talk about it forever even though he didn’t know the first thing about engineering. Perhaps even more than that, she was easy to talk to too—had this way of seeing through him. It was vulnerable but safe. He found himself telling her things that he could never tell anyone else—things about himself, his life, his family, and his past: mistakes, regrets, fears, even his grief.

He’d never forget the first time he told her about Mari. It was the first time that he had ever told anyone who hadn’t known her about it, and he didn’t know what to expect, didn’t know what she would say. In his wildest dreams, he would have never imagined she would cry for him, hold him, tell him that she wished he had gotten to have his “forever” with her. He was so moved just thinking about it, and to this day, he could barely believe that someone could care that much, could love him that much after everything. It was more than he felt he deserved. And she deserved everything—deserved so much more than he had to give her.

He would give her anything, everything that he had to give—would do anything to make her happy, but he couldn’t help but worry it wasn’t enough. Even though he loved her in a way he had never believed he could love someone again, the truth was his heart was a lot more broken and bruised than it used to be. He was a lot more broken and bruised than he used to be. He just wasn’t the same person that he was before, but he desperately wished he could be that person for her, the kind of person she deserved—someone whole.  

“Hey, you okay?” she asked with a slight tilt of her head and a kind smile. Hero nodded.  

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just feeling a little sentimental, I guess.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to miss all the insane hours and marathon shifts?” she teased, and Hero chuckled, somewhat grateful she didn’t quite know what he was getting sentimental about.

“No. I’m definitely looking forward to having a normal schedule for a change and consistent days off.” Or so he hoped anyway…but he didn’t add that part. Instead he turned off the stove’s burner and poured his salsa over the plates of tortillas, then topped with fried eggs before he handed one of the dishes to Zoey.

“This is delicious,” she said between forkfuls as he took a seat across from her at the table. “Though I expected nothing less from you.”

Hero’s mouth curved into a bright but almost bashful smile as he scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sure it’s not that great. I’m kind of out of practice…”

Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes at him somewhat affectionately. “I can’t imagine what ‘in practice’ would taste like,” she quipped before she took another bite with a satisfied hum. “Do you ever think you could’ve been a chef in another life?”

Hero chuckled lightly, but he shrugged as the slightest smile twitched in the corners of his mouth. “I wanted to be—back when I was a kid…” He paused, sighed. He knew she already knew that—already knew everything about him, but she didn’t seem to mind him repeating himself. He could feel her hand reach across the table to gently cover his until their fingers intertwined, until he looked up at her and met her bright green eyes—inquisitive but kind…and knowing as if she could see right through him and understood the bittersweet weight behind those words. As she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, he squeezed her hand and added, “But I don’t want that anymore...”

“Think you’d be even more stressed as a chef?”

“Probably.” His lips twitched before he took a bite of his chilaquiles. “And you’d see even less of me.”  

Hero couldn’t help but smile at the way she stifled a laugh as she caught his dry joke. Zoey tilted her head at him. “What do you want now?” she asked, as if she didn’t already know the answer.   

His cheeks grew warm as he thought of that ring again, but he dryly quipped, “A good night’s sleep.”

She laughed aloud this time—her smile reaching her green eyes until she bantered, “Well don’t set the bar too high. Gotta keep those wildest dreams in perspective, you know? Make them attainable.” Despite the dryness of her delivery, she couldn’t quite hold back her smile. As Hero laughed, her expression softened. “You really do deserve some rest, Mr. Prince. Just because you can function on three hours of sleep, doesn’t mean you should. It shouldn’t be a dream—it’s pretty fixable.”

“You’re starting to sound like Kel…”

Zoey shrugged. “I’ve always said Scotty’s got a lot on the ball,” she said using the nickname she had given Kel over a decade ago on account of his penchant for fixing things. “It’s good advice, and I’m not just saying that because he agrees with me.” The tines of her fork scraped against her plate as she finished the last bite. She stared at her empty plate with a thoughtful hum. “Maybe I should head out—give you some time to take a nap before you have to work this afternoon.”

“You don’t have to stay, but I don’t think I’m going to sleep if you go so…don’t leave because of that.”

Zoey smiled but sighed. “Wishful thinking on my part, I guess.

A loud crash of thunder clanged outside the window, and she frowned. “I had better get going though—head over to the site before the weather gets any worse.”

With a brisk nod, Hero rose from his seat to help Zoey clear her dishes. “I’ve got it,” he insisted, but she somewhat playfully wrestled her plate away from him with a pointed frown.

“You cooked. I can clean up.”

As she quirked an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms, Hero sighed. He knew this look. It meant there was no point in arguing with her—not that he was much of an arguer to begin with. Still, he gently insisted, “At least let me help. It’ll be faster with both of us.”

Zoey teasingly rolled her eyes, but she shrugged. “If you insist…”

Hero nodded, grabbing his used pans and utensils and joining her at the sink. It was a little like déjà vu to be honest given how often they had done dishes together back in college—though Hero would be the first to admit it was much faster and much easier with a consistently functioning dishwasher.

As if she could somehow read his mind, she quipped, “Well this is familiar…” as she rinsed off their plates in foamy, soapy water. Chuckling, he gently nudged her with his shoulder as reached for a sponge to start scrubbing the remnants of fried eggs off his pan, and she let out a breathy laugh. “Can’t say I missed dishes too much—though they were always more fun with you.”

“Pretty sure that was you actually…” His mouth twitched into a kind smile. “You always thought of great things for us to talk about to help us pass the time.”

He could feel Zoey shift beside him, and she sighed as she intently scrubbed at the stained rim of the saucepan. “You know, there actually was something I wanted to talk to you about today…”

Hero hummed glancing at her over his shoulder as he loaded the silverware into dishwasher. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I wanted to ask you something…But you have to promise me you’re going to be honest.”

“Of course,” chuckled Hero, but Zoey didn’t laugh.

“I mean it. Don’t just say it’s fine because you think that’s what I want to hear.” She paused, and Hero could feel his face flush. “I don’t want to cross a line.”

His brow furrowing, Hero stopped loading the dishes and turned to look at her—meeting her eyes. “Zoey…” His voice hitched, and he could feel his hands trembling even as he tried to calm his breathing. “Is everything okay?”

She nodded with a slight, reassuring smile. “Yeah. Everything’s okay. I just…” Her voice trailed. She wouldn’t look up from the saucepan she was cleaning. “Do you think I could visit Mari’s grave sometime…?”

Hero froze. Of all the things she could have said, he would have never expected that. She had visited there with him several times in the past, but it was always as support for him when he was going there anyway. She had never asked to make a special trip before. It surprised him, but it didn’t necessarily feel like a bad thing.  “Uh…yeah. Sure,” he stumbled running a hand through his hair. “I um…Gosh, I don’t know when I’m going to have another day off but when I finally finish up this residency and get a more consistent schedule I’m sure we can…”

“Hero,” she cut him off. “I meant, could I go alone? Would that be weird for you if I went to visit her sometime by myself?”

Something twisted in Hero’s chest. He didn’t know how to feel—didn’t really know what to say to that. It seemed so unexpected, but he didn’t think he had a problem with it. After all, Zoey knew a lot about Mari—not just from him but from Sunny and Kel too, even Aubrey and Basil. He supposed it could make sense that she might want to visit her…but the truth was, he really couldn’t understand why.

Unless…

He swallowed hard—biting down on his lip. He couldn’t even think it.

“Hero?” He felt her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. “Just forget it okay? It was a silly idea. There were just some things that I wanted to say to her, that’s all, but if it’s weird for you, I don’t want to cross that line.”

“No. No, it’s okay. It’s not weird for me, if that’s what you want to do. It’s just…” His voice trailed. He didn’t have the words for what he wanted to say, the question he wanted to ask. In a way, he was almost scared of it—scared of the answer. The truth.

He had tried to avoid it all this time. While he had told her a lot about Mari, he had tried so hard to keep it focused on him and his grief—on how he felt when she died, how he had blamed himself, how it had wreaked havoc on his relationships with the people he had cared about most, how it nearly destroyed him and how he had never thought he could ever be happy again. But she popped up in his stories sometimes and he had told Zoey the most basic things about her that she was kind, smart, and talented, she played piano and was cheerful and warm, the kind of person you could always count on to be on your side or to brighten your day oftentimes just by smiling because when she smiled you would’ve sworn the sun shined brighter.

Zoey knew that he loved Mari, that a part of him would probably always love her. It didn’t seem to bother her at all, but it had been so hard for him to make peace with that in himself. Even now, there were times when he second-guessed himself, felt guilty that his heart was so broken and bruised—that he couldn’t give her everything that he felt she deserved. He desperately wrestled with the fear he wasn’t enough, with the feeling that it wasn’t fair to her that despite how much he loved her and would have done anything for her it would be impossible for him to ever say that she had been the one and only love of his life. He was terrified that she would feel slighted—that she’d compare herself to Mari and feel trapped in her shadow, feel like she was only a second choice or a last resort.

His heart ached when he thought about it—thought about how he could never be the kind of person that Zoey truly deserved: the person he had once been, in that other life before Mari’s death, but that person had died with her and no amount of healing could ever bring him back. There was so little he had to give anymore though he would give Zoey the world if he could. It was so hard to believe his painfully pieced together heart was worth much of anything—even though he loved her with every inch, every crack, every crevice, ever bruise and broken edge of it. He loved her more than he had ever imagined he would or even could love someone again. It wasn’t better or worse or more or less, just so different from the way he had loved Mari. He just wasn’t sure that was enough.

And now…he didn’t know if she was sure either. What else could she possibly want to say to Mari without him there than that she was just playing second fiddle, just taking her leftovers, just standing in as a last resort.

 “Zoey, I…” Hero’s eyes burned as the words got caught in the back of his throat, but he eventually choked out a rambling, probably incoherent, “You know I never wanted you to feel like you had to compare yourself to Mari. I…If I’ve ever done anything to make you feel like…like you—like you’re…like you’re only a—”

“Stop.” She cut him off firm but kind. Hero bit his lip, but he wouldn’t look at her. He couldn’t. “Look at me,” she said, but when he couldn’t bring himself to, her thumb traced gentle circles across his cheek. “Henry.”

He inhaled sharply, and something fluttered in his chest at the sound of his real name. She rarely ever used it—only when she wanted to remind him to stop being a “hero” and take care of himself or, he supposed, in times like these when she really wanted to get his attention. It had a weight and a gravity which was only intensified the minute he finally looked into her eyes and she said, “You have never made me feel like a second choice.”

He finally let go of the breath he was holding. In relief, his eyes fluttered closed, but he bit his lip. “I’m sorry…”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” she insisted. “You know how I feel. We’ve talked about this.”

They had. Multiple times. But that didn’t ever take away the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that “You shouldn’t have to…”

Swallowing hard, he took a shaky breath and turned away from her. His shoulders twitched as he stared down at his hands with a bittersweet smile. “I just…I want more for you.”

“More than the perfect man? I’d really like to see that…” she quipped dryly. “And I’m flattered, but I don’t think that’s possible, Mr. Prince.”

His mouth curved into a smile in spite of himself, but he could feel his face growing warm. “I’m far from perfect…” he sheepishly insisted, rubbing his hand across the nape of his neck. “And…” His smile faded. “I’m serious, Zoey.”

“So am I.” Her voice was matter-of-fact—honest, but an affectionate smile curved in the corners of her mouth. “There is no one else like you. You know I still field calls from my old sorority sisters asking how I managed to bag prince charming.”

As Zoey teasingly rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, an awkward, disbelieving chuckle escaped Hero’s mouth. He buried his blushing face in his hands as Zoey continued, “Of course, I never dignify that with a response, but…” She shrugged. “If I did, the answer is really, ‘I have no idea.’”

Hero laughed in spite of himself, feeling very guilty for it, but Zoey didn’t seem to mind—just chuckled lightly herself and smiled at him until her expression and her voice softened. “Jokes aside though I…I honestly didn’t think it was ever going to happen. Not that it couldn’t—just that…I didn’t think you were ever going to be ready.”

He nodded. The truth was he hadn’t either.

“No one would’ve blamed you if you weren’t. I definitely wouldn’t have…Moving on—being ready for that…that’s all you. That’s your choice.” She paused and met his eyes. “And you chose that—you chose me. And that means more to me than the idea of us being cosmically destined soulmates or the one and only love of your life. I don’t need that. I don’t even want it, and I don’t want someone who can give that to me. I only…want to be with you.” Shaking her head, she laughed at herself muttering, “That’s so corny…”  

Hero reached out his hand to her—pushing that one wild strand of hair out her face and pressing his palm to her cheek. “Mi vida…”

As she glanced up at him, he could only hope that the look in his eyes conveyed the deeper meaning of those words—conveyed everything he wanted to say every time he called her that. He didn’t use it often—didn’t really use terms of endearment much anymore. It felt wrong to call her the same things he had called Mari. He never called her ‘honey’ or ‘sweetheart’ or his most precious name for her, ‘Mi corazón’: ‘my heart.’ But Zoey and only Zoey was ‘Mi vida’—‘My life.’ She liked it well enough—thought it was a pun because of her name. Zoey. Life. His life. A life he never dreamed he’d be able to have.

“I love you,” he said, and her bright green eyes smiled at him.

“I know you do. And you don’t have to try to prove it to me by pretending Mari never existed.” She broke away from his gaze and glanced over his shoulder at the cluster of old photographs of him and his friends hanging on his living room wall—memories of that other life and who he had used to be back when Mari was alive. It had been Zoey’s idea to hang them up, and she said now exactly what she had said then, “Moving on doesn’t mean having to forget, Hero.”

His heart ached at those words, and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. He wasn’t sure how long he held her until she sighed, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t mean to upset you. I won’t go.”

“No, I think you should,” Hero insisted. “I mean…if that’s something you want or need to do.”

“It is. But not for the reasons you think…” She sighed. “Not because I’m comparing myself to her or anything like that. I guess I just…I wanted to reassure her that I’d take care of you. That’s all.” She pulled away from him with a soft, affectionate, smile. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s…really good.” His eyes grew misty, and his voice hitched. “Thank you.”

Her smile brightened, and it reached her eyes. He knew that she understood those words meant infinitely more than what he had said.

“Hero…” she began. “You know I love you, right?”

He nodded, but he couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at his lips. “Yeah.”

“Can I ask you one more thing?” she asked with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“Anything.”

She tilted her head, pursing her lips together. “And you promise you won’t take it the wrong way?”

He swallowed hard—his hands beginning to shake again, but he managed, “I promise.”

Zoey took a deep breath—long and heavy. She stared at the picture of Hero and his friends in Faraway Park back before Mari had passed away—back before they were jaded, broken, before they had to learn how to be happy again. “Do you think she’d be happy for us?”

Hero’s chest ached, but a bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He thought about the last time he had visited Mari. He had gone alone—stopped there after he had picked up his grandma’s engagement ring from the bank. He had wanted to know the same thing. It felt strange to look for that reassurance—to look for some kind of sign when he knew Mari couldn’t really answer him. But Mari had found a way. When he had told her about his plans—asked if she would be okay with that, there was strong gust of wind. It blew a twig off a nearby tree that hit him in the head. He had laughed. As if Mari was trying to tell him what a silly question that was—especially when he already knew the answer.

He hugged Zoey again—glancing off over her shoulder out the window where the sun was peeking through the clouds even despite the rain. As a certain warmth spread through his chest, he blinked the mist out of his eyes and whispered, “I know she would be.”

#hero omori #omori hero #when sun shines again ⛅ #omori oc #omori oc: zoey #hero/oc #hero fic #hero fanart #omori fanart #our content #omori spoilers

[britts-galaxy-brain]

Slight correction: multiple artists Lily specifically favorited have been arrested for using CSEM as references for their 3D work. Kaneda used her toddler son as reference material, including having someone have intercural sex with him for that material. Masked is in prison for using a child of a family he was friends with for reference material and he had sex with the boy in question multiple times, even though he was able to dodge charges regarding that due to oral sex not being provable in a court of law. Amri, one of two animators who made the Spike rape animation Lily faved, was convicted of violating an Estonian law that prohibits adults having kids engage in sexual activity with them, adults putting children into prostitution, and adults using children for pornographic purposes.

If you look at screenshots from Sankaku, where thumbnails flagged for review for possibly being made with CSEM are framed in yellow, there are over a dozen images flagged in every. single. account's. favorites. That's how prolific the problem is on there. You can't avoid it even if you try if you look into the loli or shota tags. The fact that they have a flagging system because this keeps happening is in and of itself really alarming.

I get that not every person who makes NSFW of a character who's underage references real minors, and a lot of horny teens make art of teen characters they like, but while I respect anon's attempts to assume good faith and assume innocence rather than guilt... on Sankaku, CSEM and NSFW are genuinely, honestly interchangeable terms a lot of the time. Three artists in one year alone who abused children aside, any site that hosts 3D, photorealistic art is going to have art made from CSEM references because artists who use CSEM as reference material can blend in and hide behind those who don't.

That's why survivors hate that site. It's not "doing survivors a disservice" to refer to that shit as CSEM because 1. a large chunk of it is 2. a lot of users looking at it are looking for CSEM they won't get in legal trouble for and 3. even the 3D renders that aren't CSEM would still look like CSEM to anyone who's not a 3D artist who can pick out all the anatomy flaws in it.

As a survivor I get why anon wants to distinguish between art and exploitation of children because yeah, some 16 year old being horny for a 15 year old character isn't CSEM but that's just not what we're discussing when it's Sankaku.

Point in case: my abuser took a picture he had where he'd came on my face and had a 3D artist make a render of it with his brother's face instead of mine. It's still on Sankaku because even when they take it down, people reupload it. It's been in circulation for six years.

Sorry for dumping this in your inbox, this kind of thing just makes me see red. I'm not a bad survivor for hating Sankaku or for calling it CSEM and neither are you.

I realize the descriptions in this are graphic, but I'm sharing it with trigger warnings because YALL NEED TO REALIZE HOW GRAPHIC THE SHIT LILY IS LOOKING AT IS!

This isn't a joke!

This isn't "anti vs pro" ship bullshit!

This isn't "Oh but it's fictional so it's not the same"!

LILY ORCHARD IS A VIOLENT PEDOPHILE!!

If seeing this offends you, instead of getting mad and indignant at the people spreading awareness about it, TARGET THAT SHIT AT THE PERSON USING HER PLATFORM TO ACCESS MINORS AND OTHER VULNERABLE PEOPLE!

#tw csem #tw child abuse #tw csa mention #tw graphic #lily orchard #lily orchard is a predator

[nadia-zahra]

St5 byler speculation

This is some st5 speculation based off of will and mike’s last heart to heart in st4.

This is the scene I’m referring to btw:

First things first I just have to say that the Duffer brothers have said (don’t know if they were lying or not) that we would be able to figure what happens in season 5 from what’s given to us in 4. Ok now for the actual theorizing:

The first thing that happens is Mike tells Will him and El aren’t speaking and haven’t really spoken much since the love confession. Obviously this means El and Mike are still going to have relationship problems in season 5, but more importantly this means that El is definitely done with Mike’s bullshit. I’m assuming them not talking, even after Mike said ily in that horrendous monologue, that El is going to break up with him. Maybe she’s not breaking up with him because of his inability to say I Love You. Cause I mean literally this whole season was about that and we do get mike saying ily in the love confession. maybe its because her new sense of independence let’s her know she doesn’t need Mike’s (or anybody’s) opinion of her to make her feel good ab herself. And also she probably feels like she needs to focus on Max and Vecna but that’s for a whole other day lol.

Second thing that happens is Mike and will sitting down on the couch; this is where the rest of their convo happens. Now a lot of people have pointed out that the couch is upside and this could mean that Mike and Will will be in the upside for the next season. However, I would like to add this: Mike is the first one to sit on the couch…Mike is the first one to end up in the upside down. Will follows him onto the couch, and has to put the cushion down to sit…Will chooses to go into the upside down to save Mike. I think if Mike is the first to end up in the UD, then he is getting Vecna’d. That’s really the only plausible reason why he would be in there since there are no more gates. The Duffer brothers have said that st5 is going to circle back to st1 and it’s going to have a lot of the same character pairings. Wouldn’t it be crazy if instead of Will being lost in the upside down, it was Mike, and instead of Mike looking for Will, ITS WILL LOOKING FOR MIKE. i wouldn’t think, if this is true and Mike does get stuck in the ud, that they’d have him in there for a week considering most seasons have been set within a weeks time span. But the idea of them flipping they’re dynamic from season one is chef’s kiss.

Moving on to the third thing: lighting. Will is bathed in sunlight and Mike is pretty much in the shadows—except when he grabs to will. There’s dozens of analyses on the lighting in this shot, and I don’t really want to resay what’s already been so heavily spoken on. But I will say this as my own little spin on the lighting’s meaning: what if the light being almost like a spotlight on Will means that he is going to be the one to save the day? I mean think about it like this. In media and literature, there’s always a parallel between good and bad and light and dark. If Will does chase mike into the ud, or is trying to save him, Will would be mike’s light in the darkness. Mike is shown all the way out of the light, it actually kinda looks like Finn was told to position himself out of it. This could mean that Mike is stuck in that negative ass headspace while in the ud, he’s going to struggle with not letting Vecna get him. But Will is his light, and just like in this scene, mike will reach out for that light. For the goodness that will save him from being vecna’s next victim. You can also note how Mike’s grip on this scene is extremely tight (ik Noah’s shoulder must’ve hurt after that lol) and a lot of bylers have used that as byler evidence, but I’m going to use the death grip he gives as symbolism for him reaching out to Will for safety for dear life.

Fourth thing: Will talking ab his connection to Vecna. He hasn’t been in Hawkins for even a day and it has all flooded back to him. The being able to see through Vecna’s eyes, hear his thoughts, feel his presence. The connection is just as strong (if not stronger) than before he left. If Will ends up in the ud looking for Mike, this will obviously play a disgustingly huge role. I mean I can see us getting scenes where Will is talking to Vecna through his mind, getting a zoom in on the back of Will’s neck and then HEARING VECNA TALK TO WILL, and just so much more. Like can we pleaseeeee get Will doing a full on Harry Potter v. Voldemort battle?? This isn’t even me speculating that this is me wishing. Oh and I am going to make a post regarding the parallels between Will and Harry because everyone loves doing it with El but I feel there’s so many more with Will it’s insane. I have completely gotten off track let’s move on.

Idk what number we’re on now, but I was rewatching the clip and forgot to discuss them talking ab el. Now there are a lot of things through out the season that point to el not defeating vecna, and it being someone else (I will also be doing a post ab the d&d game because HOLY SHIT does it have some juice to it) but when talking about specifically this scene, mike says that she’s never lost like this before. Ok actually I’m going to have to rope in the d&d game a lil bit for this to make sense. So in the d&d game Eddie explains how vecna has returned from the dead even tho it was believed he was killed. We end st4 with everyone thinking Vecna is dead (dare I add how both in the d&d game he is missing a left arm and in the fight between him and the three older kids Nancy and robin both aim for his left arm). But in the game we watch a bunch of players die (to reassure those who think I would say st5 everyone is going to die but two people, no. That is absurd) and they’re left with only two chances to kill vecna. it’s not the 11 that kills him it’s a 20. Going back to this scene with mike and will (I am sorry for how messy this paragraph is it’s 1am and I’m just waiting for my goddamn script) Mike says El’s never lost like this. We can parallel El to the person that had supposedly tried to kill vecna but didn’t. Then Will goes on to say “she’ll have another chance” mike says “let’s hope not”. Now, this is kind of reaching but I think this scene with mike and will in regards to el is solidifying the idea of El not saving Hawkins. If the d&d game is true, and it’s not 11 but 20 (I have searched throughout this entire fucking season for even an inkling of a 20 being even AROUND a character but no hope so far) then mike saying, after Will says she has another chance, “let’s hope not” could be the writers telling us “El isn’t going to be the hero”. Also love that Will goes into brother mode when Mike talks ab her doubts, he is such a lovely brother.

Final thing I noticed: mike repeating “we will. we will”. I don’t care if I’m wrong ab what those words mean, but I don’t think I KNOW these words hold weight and tell us something ab st5. Think about it, Mike only ever repeats something if he is really trying to put emphasis on it. He did that with “we’re just friends”. The writers are telling us to pay attention to these words. And I think that it’s just such an odd sentence to begin with. It’s one of those sentences that only the writers would write with the intentions of it alluding to what’s to come. (Edit: I’m sorry to add it here but I reread this and I need to say that OBVIOUSLY THE WE WILL MEANS THEYRE GOING TO WIN. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that at the end of the show the bad guy loses. I’m talking ab more so “who” is doing the “will” so to speak… who will kill vecna 😐). I’m just going to throw out the idea of this alluding to will and mike fighting vecna, but it’s Will that ultimately kills him. Because if you break it down (analyzing a two word sentence is so fun! *said sarcastically*) the “we” mike is referring to could really only be two possibilities: it’s either him talking about mike + Will, or him talking ab the entire group. It’s not just a singular person that’s killing vecna. So to make that statement work with my “Will is killing vecna” theory. In the ud, mike and will hatch up a plan that involves both of them killing vecna. However, when it all comes down to it, it’s going to be Will that kills vecna. Even this little theory I just cooked up in three seconds works with the sentence. “We (mike and will as a team destroy vecna) will ( will kills vecna by himself)”.

So hears my little st5 theory based off of that scene (and this is really only in regards to Will + Mike obviously): Mike gets vecna’d, but instead of dying he, he like max, gets trapped in the upside down. I’m going to throw this in here for fun and because I really want it to happen, but Vecna first gets mike by making an illusion of him at the quarry and vecna is basically harassing Mike for jumping off. Anyways, Will finds out (maybe he’s with mike? Idk it’s 2am leave me alone) that Mike is stuck in the upside down and goes after him. Will is in contact with vecna and scared of it but he knows that with this connection they can find him easier and can learn his weaknesses. Will does find Mike and their reunion would probably make byler shippers have a full on exorcism (I’m thinking the reunion scene would probably be a parallel of their reunion at the airport, but instead of the awkward side hug, they’re like crying and holding each other for dear life). Mike and Will will create a plan to kill good ole vecky. While on that journey they most definitely would have a heart to heart and I think this convo would make byler cannon. Also while on the journey Will would probably be seeing some crazy shit from Vecna and the closer and closer they get to him the worse it’s going to get. Once they actually do meet vecna mike and will begin their plan. Idk what the details of the plan would be or how it would lead to this, but it would lead to Will being the one to end vecna’s life. With or without mikes help, Will is killing him. I think while all this is going down throughout the season (can you imagine if all I just said only happens in like one episode Jesus Christ that’d be crazy) El is trying to figure out a way to gain back her confidence in her abilities, El and mike definitely break up before he gets vecna’d, and (PLEASE DONT MURDER ME THIS IS JUST A THEORY) in el and vecna’s final batte El loses….and dies. IK NO ONE WANTS HER DEAD I DONT EITHER I LOVE HER CHARACTER. But there’s just so much that shows her death and like not to mention story telling wise, going with the story of the whole show not just the final season, it makes sense. And like if they’re alluding to her not winning the final battle, how tf do y’all think that’s gonna play out? What she’s just magically gonna live because she said pretty please at the hands of vecna’s mercy? I don’t think so. Anyways this concludes this EXTREMELY long analysis. I’m going to check if I got the papa script now lol.

#stranger things #tvstrangerthings #dailystrangerthings #byler #will byers #mike wheeler #el hopper #st4 volume 2 #st5 speculation #st5 predictions #st5 theory #i feel like game theory omg #this was too much #my brain has rotted from writing this #milkvan

[mintyimperiatrix]

just finished reading the Infinity Doctors and i'm now going to make it everybody else's problem, so welcome to what is probably going to be the opposite of a concise review by someone who knows utterly fuck all about any of the 90s books, yeehaw (spoilers)

~~

so in all honestly i literally only read this because it's the only other time that i'm aware of that Patience appears and after reading Cold Fusion i wanted to find out more about her. imagine my feelings when i find out that this entire book is set in a different universe :D

for real though it took me a good while to figure out wtf was going on. i didn't know if it was pre-Hartnell or a Doctor from the future or what but i think it's the latter because there's one line about how he doesn't wear a velvet coat anymore, implying he's after Eight and i know it was written wayy before Nine was cast but his description fits Eccleston's so well which to me points to him being yet another alternate Ninth Doctor so ig Nine just gets to vibe on Gallifrey in this timeline instead of facing The Horrors(tm)

speaking of timeline stuff it kinda just felt like a compressed version of the Doctor's life from the main universe. he remembers Patience here so clearly married her as Hartnell rather than before. Hedin's around so i figure he just didn't die, which makes sense if the Omega shennanigans in the Three Doctors and Arc of Infinity also didn't happen which i have to assume is the case judging by the entire plot of the book. there were also references to something that'll off the Time Lords later on which tracks with the Time War but again this was pre revival so i'm guessing it's some Faction Paradox stuff since that was also referenced. it follows the concept that the Doctor's half Human and his parents are Penelope and Ulysses which is not something i'm a fan of normally but knowing this is an alternate universe i think it has potential. he called the TARDIS a family heirloom at one point which is bizarre but in that context somewhat works

and the Magistrate is the Master right? surely that's gotta be a unanimous opinion, right?? i loved him though, probably my fav character in the book. exactly what you'd expect a Gallifrey-bound incarnation of the Master to be like. i was sad when he was killed/vanished/whatever, i wish there was some sort of follow up on that or even just a reaction from the other characters at all. there was one line though where Larna notes that it's obvious that he's in love with the Doctor and vice versa and that made my thoschei shipping brain squee with delight.

loved Larna too! we all had that one hot teacher she's just the only one lucky enough to actually snog them. i loved her dynamic with the Doctor and the Magistrate and i like to think she exists in the main universe, probably re-engineering Gallifrey's staircases and turning down constant offers to join the High Council

i would like to have strong words with Lance Parkin regarding his repeated de-shoeing of female characters though and of the random mentions of curves and figure that never occurs with male characters. i wouldn't mind the emphasis as much if the same had been done for the male characters, and it's not like there wasn't opportunity for it however in the scenes where the Doctor is naked briefly or the Magistrate is wearing tight fitting clothing not once is it given the same depth of description as the scenes with Patience or Larna. the introduction of systemic sexism on Gallifrey was also so incredibly unnecessary and i have no clue why anyone would feel the need to specify that "of the thousands of Time Lords on Gallifrey only around a dozen were female" like huh???

speaking of Gallifrey i did enjoy (for the most part) the depiciton of Time Lord day to day. i'm not fond of the distinction between Gallifreyans and Time Lords, in my mind all Gallifreyans are Time Lords some just don't live in the Citadel, but the stuff about Infinity Chambers, the way they decorate their rooms, the random tech like Z-Caps and Force Knives, the obsession with protocol and proceedure, it's all gorgeous. the use of TARDIS/Time Lord dynamics was stunning (there's a soft moment between the Doctor and the TARDIS at the end and i love it), also the use of different pronouns for different TARDISes was a welcome treat

onto Patience though, the reason i read the book. it referenced her fate from Cold Fusion but because of the everything about this book i assume it's a different version of Patience which honestly i'm glad about because i'm not sure how i feel about the idea of the Doctor marrying the woman who was at his birth and proceeded to raise him. also don't like her being Omega's wife, that's really weird??? i enjoy the idea that she's older than she initially appeared in Cold Fusion though, past regenerations for her would be cool but i doubt she stretches back as far as the Doctor does in the main universe. it was so fun to see her again though albeit a different her

on the whole i'd say a very good book but with enough iffy bits that i wouldn't rate it too high. bit of a slow burn but in a good way! i love Sontarans and i didn't know going in that they were there so that was incredibly welcome. i really like the Infinity Doctor and i wouldn't say no to more content with him, even just an unbound comic strip or something because i really like this take on the character

#the infinity doctors #doctor who eu #patience #the infinity doctor #doctor who books #the eighth doctor #the ninth doctor #the first doctor #larna #gallifrey

[practically-an-x-man]

more thoughts about Wish:

Chris Pine has the best voice acting in this movie by far. Dude could be a legitimately scary villain if the animation wasn't so goofy

I'm telling you dude, the man is acting his ass off but the script and animation style are just ruining all the emotion he's giving

Alan Tudyk is also putting in the work but the script is not working in his favor

Evan Peters needs more lines. His character is legitimately interesting, a young guy who just gave up his wish and is now weirdly lethargic all the time, but they don't explore it enough

Speaking of the animation, it felt very inconsistent. With the King especially we'd get like... one cool moment (like him stopping the globes during his solo song) but then it's immediately cut by these goofy Nimona-as-Ballister type motions

The facial expressions are generally overblown, past the point of "animation stretching the rules" and into "this just looks goofy"

Like I said before, it feels like a patchwork of a dozen other, better Disney movies. My dad and I were watching this going "Tangled. Brave. Frozen. Peter Pan. Mulan."

The third act is like... Rise of the Guardians meets that one scene in Trolls where they sing True Colors

The music is just inconsistent. I think it mainly comes from the fact that they had a pop singer/songwriter do the music rather than a musical theatre composer, there aren't any consistent themes or leitmotifs and it leaves everything feeling very disjointed.

Some of the songs on their own are decently catchy but they just feel like they're trying way too hard

The dialogue is the same way. It serves a purpose but it doesn't quite feel natural or human. Some characters are worse than others and the VO work plays a role but the script itself is just awkward

I think they've just set up too many characters here. If they took two people out of Asha's friend group it would leave more room to develop the others. As it is, I don't remember their names and I have no idea what they want

Except for Asha since she's the main character and Simon because he's the only one who stands out from the rest (again, really interesting character! drastically underutilized!)

Feels like the talking animals are only a thing because it's a Disney movie. Valentino I understand, animal sidekicks are a classic, but the chickens and squirrels and mice are just too much

As a whole there's just... no substance in it. It feels like they've tried to make The Disney Movie and just started making it without even deciding on the themes or characters' journeys at all

It is a heaping pile of deus ex machinas. Every single problem in this movie is resolved in some cheeky little deus ex machina, solely for the sake of a stupid joke or a cheap reference to another Disney reference

If you're gonna copy Lin-Manuel Miranda's composition style anyway... just hire Lin-Manuel Miranda. At least he knows how rhyme schemes and leitmotifs work

This movie is so fucking trite it makes me legitimately angry

Good points I guess (because I refuse to dish on a movie without pointing out something decent about it):

Some of the songs are kinda catchy

There are a few powerful moments of animation, mostly with the King

There are little gold character moments here and there: the King's desperation for power, Simon's character as a whole, Asha's selflessness sparking the initial wish, etc.

Some of the voice acting is legitimately good!

The concept itself is interesting, a King who hoards wishes to make himself more powerful. It had the grounds to be a much better movie, it just didn't act on them very well

The diversity in this movie is genuinely good! We see various demographics of people - race, gender, physical build, disability, etc. - and there's not much "Disney same face syndrome" like we've gotten in other movies.

#out of the two wish-themed movies with harvey guillen in them... yeah no i'm just gonna watch puss in boots

[textsfromthetva]

I don't think I've ever seen you post about any of the other projects Loki's been in. How do you feel about his movies? Which one(s) are your favorite?

First off, I'm sorry for letting this sit in my inbox collecting dust for three weeks, considering the fact that it's actually a great question and it caused me to really reflect on my thoughts about Loki in the MCU. Unfortunately, none of those thoughts got to a point where they were worthy of publication on the esteemed tumblr dot com, as I doubted they would pass the savage peer review of much more dedicated fans. They still won't.

Honestly, I'm scared, anon. People probably won't agree. But since you asked so nicely:

Thor - solid tragic backstory established with a certain flair. Loki is by far the most interesting thing about the whole movie. Not that I actually dislike it as a whole, I just don't think it's anything special in the context of the MCU. It's a fish out of water comedy interrupted regularly by a heartbreaking tale of loss of identity, self-hatred, and daddy issues. Which is a... choice? I guess? Kenneth Branagh's love of Shakespearean tragedy really shines through, is all I'm saying. Tom really established his brilliance right out of the gate, so that brings it to a solid 8/10 on my Loki-scale.

The Avengers - now... look. This movie has a lot of flaws. But I love it. I was in my mid-20s okay, I was exposed to it at a weird time in my life and I was obsessed. I watched it three times in cinemas, including once in New York City, while I was there on a study trip with uni. I probably watched it half a dozen times after that. And Loki was so much fun in this! Just the perfect villain for that movie. He was the Moment. I'm not even gonna get into the tragedy of the mind stone's influence fucking with him, Thor not realizing, lack of acknowledgement of the fact that he literally tried to commit suicide two movies ago, or the many implications of past torture by Thanos, I just like watching him be flamboyantly evil and smack people with his cane. The other stuff gives the story depth that I'm not actually sure it actually deserves. Still, 10/10

Thor: The Dark World - we can all agree that this movie is, uh, kinda meh. At least in my opinion. However, I think it's very important in terms of Loki's character development and the development of his relationship with Thor. For that reason alone, I admit to having watched it more than once. Also, he's such a little dramatic bitch in this, it's what we all deserve. 7/10.

Thor: Ragnarok - this is where some people will start throwing rocks at me. I really, really like this movie. I love Taika Waititi, I love his whimsical humour, I love how goddamn silly and lighthearted this thing is compared to The Dark World (and Avengers: Age of Ultron). Fuck grimdark angst, we have bright colours and fun. It just means the few emotional whammies hit all the harder too. I've heard people confidently call this movie a character assassination, in regards to Loki, and I really can't express in words how little I care. He is now Jeff Goldblum's trophy twink. No explanation needed. Let the guy be chaotic for once, he's earned it! 100/10.

Avengers: Infinity War - nope. Dont' wanna talk about it. -10000/10

Loki - well. I'll refer you to this edit of mine:

This show is a general mess on so many fronts, but I still feel such fondness for it. And judging from the number of viewers it got, the world will watch just about anything if it has Loki in it, which, you know, valid. And would I be running a whole damn blog about it if I actively disliked it? No, I would not. 9/10.

There we go. Based on my personal rating, Thor: Ragnarok wins. The trophy twink can't lose.

#asks