#Up writing towards that at the expense of the rest of the script (what we might know today as M. Night Shyamalan syndrome)

[leclsrc]

congrats on 2k!! so happy to see such a talented writer get the recognition they deserve🤍🤍

can i request 5 gifts w/ charles?? ty and congrats again!

presents – cl16

genre: flufff, bit of angst, 2k celebration

Thank God for expensive cars—they barely make noise when they pull into the driveway of the house.

On nights where the bed’s emptiness is just a bit too painful to bear, your ears grow attuned to the silence so they can hear the car better. Because from then you can judge the rest of Charles’ synchronized routine—his shit parking, turning the key into the lock, heavy footsteps through the foyer and up the stairs, deliberate turning of the doorknob so he doesn’t wake you.

But he never does, because you’re never asleep. “Did I wake you?”

“Mmm, no,” you assure him, sitting up a little. He sports evidence of training, a bruise on his arm, extra stubble, a tighter fitting tee. He climbs into bed beside you holding a tiny box, rattles it so you can hear the chain shake inside. 

“Good. I have a gift for you.”

“Can it wait?” You ask throatily. “I miss you.”

He looks perfect like this, you think, pretty and handsome and tired and yours. He is rarely yours in these triple headers, season peaks where neither of your schedules give. So you envelop him into a hug, the box is laid on the bedside table, and they’re both gone by the time you wake up to the sun.

—

You were never one to accept presents, especially if they looked like they cost a month’s rent. Charles had given you a bracelet to commemorate your first year together, one that matched his.

“We agreed small gifts,” you’d said, jaw to the floor at the shiny object.

“It is… small.” He responded dumbly.

“Small, like…” you pull out your paper maché cat, which you painted to look like a Sauber driver. “Like this.”

So he’d kept the bracelet because you insisted, with all the love in the world, that you simply could not bear to wear it. Then he posted six pictures of your gift, claiming it was the best he’d ever gotten, pressing kisses all over your face.

—

“Would you like a message on the card, Sir?”

“Oui, oui. Can you write, uh…”

Charles rifles through his journal, onto which he’s written every detail of his life. There are race stats, strategy comparisons, crude venn diagrams of plans, tic-tac-toe games on slow meetings with Carlos, long-winded spiels on life that evolve from French to Italian to English, dinner date reminders, interview scripts.

But none of those is what he’s looking for. He seeks something else, a line he’d written on the day you fell asleep hugging him, comforted by his arrival. He had to leave early that day, so he enjoyed your presence and spent time writing. 

He spends a minute too long searching for it, but finds it eventually, sandwiched in between a doodle of Fred and Antonio. For all his trying, however, he later learns he miscalculated your checkout time, and the flowers never arrived on time for you to see them. He pictures the lilies, wilting alone, pictures the card you never got to unfold and read.

Thinking of you. I fall in love with you every time you walk into a room. Charles

—

You meet his eyes across the table, and narrow yours in silent challenge.

“Woah!” He laughs, amused, pointing an accusatory finger in your direction. “What was that—” He mimics your challenging expression, eyes briefly flitting down to where he holds his Uno cards. The rest of the room watch idly as the game comes to an intense close.

“It was me telling you I have great cards,” you proclaim with a giggle. “Aaaand uno.” 

The intense close is won by you, much to your opponent’s chagrin. It was an easy win, you state, I had a plus four and he handed it right to me. He finds you by the kitchen of the mansion chewing on a potato chip and extends a bottle of beer toward you, in a truce of sorts.

“Winners deserve a drink, no?” He grins, his eyes crinkling. “Consider it a gift. From me.”

“No, thanks. You already gifted me a win.”

“I just let you win,” he teases. “It was easy.”

“Was it?” You raise an eyebrow, and you both laugh. “All this talk, and I don’t even know my nemesis’ name.”

“Right, how rude,” he tsks, shaking your hand. It stays a bit too long, steals your words. “It’s Charles.”

—

In the end, your relationship befell the same fate as the collection of gifts he’d never been able to get you to receive: it just didn’t work out. 

But sometimes Charles revisits his piles of storage, picks out the florist’s business card or the winning Uno number he’d folded up and kept. He checks and rechecks boxes, wrappers, of gifts ungiven. And he goes to his trophy shelf, full of shiny metal and hard edges, and sees there, in front of them all, the Sauber driver paper maché cat.

And you sometimes go through pictures of the both of you, stare at your empty wrist and wonder what it would look like with a bracelet looped around it. You think of waiting, of the empty bed that’s now become the norm, the phone call from your hotel receptionist who asked if you wanted to return for the flowers that were sent late. 

Both of you remember. Both of you look for the other.

But perhaps most of all, both of you hope there’s a life where gifts were received and love worked. Charles passes the freeway exit that leads to your house and wonders, for a second, if he should turn into it. You lay in bed, ears attuned, wondering if you’ll hear the sound of his car.

[uncloseted]

How do you feel about the AI taking over creative jobs discourse? Apologies if you’ve already talked about it, I just wanna add my experience.

Idk why people are getting so freaked out. DGMW, I completely see the worry, but as someone who works in a writing/marketing job everyday, the notion that AI could ever produce the kind of work we do, and well at that, is absolutely not possible. It either makes things sound too casual or very unnatural, it’s hard to make it sound completely authentic. Also, we use AI as a tool IN my job! It HELPS AID us in our work, helps with proofing (admittedly, not always perfectly) but we in the industry use it like a brainstorming tool. It’s actually an amazing tool when utilized correctly, and we know it’s not going to be, like, stealing our jobs from actual talented people. We treat it like an additional pair of helping hands, not stealing hands, or whatever.

I think I've written on this before but I can't find it so it's totally okay that you couldn't find it either 😭

I do definitely get your point. I think AI can be a super useful tool for creative people in the same way that digital animation tools have been useful for the animation industry. But I think this take is putting a lot of trust in industry to make good decisions, and I think that trust is largely misplaced. Corporations don't necessarily care if the work they're producing is bad as long as it's making them money. Sure, an AI is never going to write Before Sunrise. But an AI could probably have written The Super Mario Bros. Movie, because it's a cash grab- people will see it whether or not it's good.

And big corporations know that. They're willing to sacrifice quality in the name of maximizing profit. If that means getting an AI to write a script and having one person go through it to make it seem more human, they're going to do that, because it's less expensive than hiring a whole team of writers to come up with it from scratch. This is one of the big reasons that the Writer's Guild of America is currently striking (and everyone on this blog should support them in that). We've already seen that push to sacrifice quality for profit in action- studios have increasingly been moving towards "Mini Rooms", where only three or four writers are responsible for writing the scripts for a production instead of the usual eight or more. This means that on some productions, the opportunities for writers are essentially being halved, writers are getting paid less for doing more work, new writers are struggling more than usual to break into the industry, and existing writers are having trouble advancing to becoming showrunners.

The SAG-AFTRA actors strike is for similar reasons (and everyone on this blog should also be supporting the SAG-AFTRA strike!) - studios want to be able to scan a background performer’s image, pay them for a half a day’s work, and then use their image for the rest of time without their consent and without paying them royalties. That's a huge blow to the number of roles that will be available for working class actors, in an industry that's already over-saturated. And think about what that could do to the acting industry as AI technology gets better- why would you cast an unknown actor as your lead when you can just resurrect Marilyn Monroe or de-age Harrison Ford? Sure, it will probably look a little janky, but it doesn't matter- it's cheaper, and people will go see it regardless of whether or not the computer generated imagery looks good. Already, janky versions of Anthony Bourdain and Andy Warhol's voices have been re-created instead of hiring an actor to do that work.

And all of this is predicated on the idea that AIs won't get better at their jobs. Sure, they produce copy that sounds unnatural now, but they're not going to stay that way forever. Chat-GPT only launched on November 30, 2022, and already, it's head and shoulders above past AI models that we've had. The more people that use it for their jobs, the more inputs that it gets, and the better it will get at producing "correct" responses. And if people start building AI models with creative industries in mind (which they will), those technologies are going to get better and better, too- at least good enough that they can compete with someone who's kind of mediocre at their job. AI is a tool now, but there's a point at which it could reasonably take over the job on its own, and I don't think that's as far in the future as we might think.

I'm sure there are some studios and agencies that will continue to create human-based work because it is better quality. For example, I doubt A24 is going to convert to AI written scripts or AI background actors any time soon. But even then, it's likely that those studios and agencies will cut down on the number of people they hire and supplement the extra work with an AI. Or, like they did with the advent of the internet, cut down on the number of people that they hire and then increase the speed at which they produce work, creating a more stressful working situation overall.

The bottom line is that I do think AI is a very real threat to creative industries, and it will continue to be unless we decide on how it can and can't be used from now, when it hasn't caused much chaos yet. Corporations don't have the best interests for humans or humanity at heart. Their bottom line is profit, and it always will be. That's why we keep getting remakes of remakes of remakes and reboots upon reboots upon reboots and gritty reimaginings of nostalgic properties. And so if increasing profits means automating out the work of people who actually like their jobs, so be it. That's what they're going to do.

[rax-writes]

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Fandom:  MCU Pairing:  Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader Warnings:  Sexual intercourse with a female-identifying person with a vagina + a bit of sugar daddy Zemo vibes at the end Notes:  Y’all... don’t judge me. I have a power kink, and Marvel did me dirty by randomly deciding that Zemo is fifthly rich royalty. And my girl @henrysmorgan​ did me even dirtier by actively encouraging my attraction to this fucker. So, blame Marvel, and blame her. // This is kind of really fucking long, and I didn’t edit it much, because I wanted to get it posted before episode 4, in case that episode flips the script. So, potentially some editing issues, and slightly rushed writing. Hopefully it’s alright, but please let me know if I screwed up anywhere. // Lots and lots of TFAWS ep. 3 spoilers

When Bucky texted you to ask that you meet him in some dusty, old, abandoned-looking car garage, you certainly didn’t know what to expect. All you knew was that an old friend needed your help, so you intended to be there.

It had been a few months since you’d last seen him, and even longer since you’d participated in any sort of mission, but you suspected that was what you were walking into. Being exposed to the Mind Stone had granted you the power of telepathy, which meant that SHIELD was quite keen on persuading you to work for them. They trained you in martial arts and hand-to-hand combat, and you went on miscellaneous missions a handful of times. They put in a lot of effort to convince you that it was your moral obligation as an “enhanced individual” to help them with these missions, but you ultimately decided that that simply wasn’t the kind of life you wanted. Instead, after the Blip, you began working a desk job for SHIELD, which is when you crossed paths with Bucky, helping him with paperwork associated with his pardon, and the two of you formed a friendship. But SHIELD kept trying to coerce you to get back into the field, constantly badgering you about it and making it clear that you weren’t wanted if all you were doing was paperwork.

The truth is, you weren’t cut out to be a superhero, and you had no desire to be. It didn’t help that your entire country had been reduced to rubble several years prior, leaving you with a bottomless pit of homelessness in your heart. So, you left SHIELD, and started a life in Berlin, where you were content to live out your days as the owner of a small bakery, residing in the small apartment above your shop.

That is, until Bucky Barnes dragged you into a particularly sticky situation, with a certain Baron Helmut Zemo.

You knew that helping Bucky and Sam would throw a colossal wrench in the life you’d created for yourself in Berlin, but after they explained the situation with the super soldiers, coupled with Bucky’s puppy dog eyes, you found yourself refraining from storming out of the building the second you saw Helmut fucking Zemo.

“We need you to keep an eye on him. You don’t have to tap into his mind 24/7, we just want a heads up if he’s going to screw us over,” Bucky explained.

"Look, we really need him. We’re obviously scraping the bottom of the barrel here, otherwise he'd still be in that cell. And neither of us want to be packing a criminal around like a rich bitch's chihuahua, so we need you here to make sure we're not gonna get bit," Sam explained.

"Fine. But you both owe me," you relented, and they both took sighs of relief. You glanced at Zemo, locking eyes with him for several tense moments. He gave you a polite smile, giving off the impression that he had nothing to hide – which he didn't, as his thoughts showed his intentions were pure at the moment. "We're good for now. He just genuinely wants the opportunity to take down these new super soldiers."

Sam and Bucky nodded, visibly releasing tension from their shoulders as they moved to head out, now reassured that Zemo was truly on their side. Meanwhile, Zemo eyed you with curiosity and awe, murmuring, "Fascinating."

The four of you walked on the landing strip toward a private jet, owned by Zemo.

"So all this time you've been rich?"

"I was a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty before your friends destroyed my country," Zemo explained, before glancing at you with a small smile. "But you knew that already."

"Wait, how did she know that?" Sam asked, then turned to you. "How did you know that?"

"I am Sokovian myself. I was certainly not royalty, but I lived there for my entire life, until it was destroyed," you explained, stopping outside the jet as Zemo greeted the elderly butler, Oeznik, in your native language. It made you smile to yourself; it had been years since you'd heard it spoken. Zemo shot you a grin when he noticed, and when you took a peek into his mind, you saw that he understood exactly how you felt.

As the butler handed Zemo a flute of champagne after you all boarded the jet, the Baron smiled politely as Oeznik stated, “Apologies if that's a little warm. The fridge is out, but I will see if there is some good food in the galley.”

Zemo glanced as you sat across from him, then in Sokovian, Zemo told Oeznik, "Another flute for the lady, please. And if the food does not pass the smell test, give it to the gentlemen."

"It's good to have you back, sir!"

As the man retreated to the cockpit, also in Sokovian, you noted, "You are a mischievous man, even more so than in your infamously criminal ways."

"You will find that there is more to me than meets the eye, angel," he responded coolly, the Sokovian language rolling off his tongue like honey. Before you could respond, admittedly enjoying speaking Sokovian, Sam grew tired of everyone speaking a language he couldn't understand.

"Why don't you tell us about where we're going?"

After a tense exchange between Bucky and Zemo, followed by a discussion about Marvin Gaye, Zemo finally got to the point: Madripoor. You exhaled slowly, resting your forehead in your palm in exasperation.

“You couldn’t have invited me on a mission to Cancun? Or Paris? Why must it be Madripoor?” you asked Bucky, who shot you a tight-lipped, pitying smile, silently apologizing for what he was dragging you into.

“What’s up with Madripoor? You guys talk about it like it’s Skull Island.”

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s,” Bucky explained.

“And upon seeing it, you would see that times there haven’t changed one bit since then,” you added.

“It’s kept its lawless ways. But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone,” Zemo said.

You frowned as you caught a glimpse of Bucky’s thoughts as he went silent. Fear. Anxiety. Disdain. Apprehension. You reached across to rest your hand on his shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze. He shot you a small smile, then looked out the window.

Upon landing in Madripoor, one of Zemo’s contacts met you on the landing strip with a new wardrobe for you, Bucky, and Sam, and Zemo explained that each outfit was per his instruction, carefully chosen to fit the role each of you would be playing in Madripoor. One by one, you took the covered clothes hanger to the bathroom of the jet and changed. Bucky was first, stepping out in some sort of leather number, looking eerily similar to the Winter Soldier you’d seen in photos. Sam was next, donning a three-piece suit of burgundy and gold. He looked sharp, although he was immediately complaining about how ostentatious it was. And finally, you stepped into the room and closed the door behind you, unzipping the covering on the hanger and revealing your “carefully chosen” outfit.

“Ich werde dir im Schlaf die Eier abreißen, Zemo!”

Bucky choked on his water and Zemo chuckled under his breath, while Sam looked between the two in confusion.

“I don’t know what she said, but she sounded pissed,” he observed, eyeing Zemo suspiciously.

“She informed me that she intends to remove my testicles in my sleep.”

“And why is that?”

“Perhaps because he’s chosen to parade me around Madripoor like a cheap whore,” you said angrily, stepping out of the bathroom with your hands on your hips, glaring at Zemo.

“That dress is by Armani Prive, and your shoes are Louboutins – far from ‘cheap.’ And you do not look like a whore, the dress is merely more revealing than what you are used to,” Zemo argued, standing and walking over to survey your outfit. He seemed to be enjoying what he saw, judging from the way his eyes raked up and down your body, but you didn’t dare check his thoughts to confirm or deny it.

If you were honest with yourself, he was right. It was a very nice dress; plum purple, matching the color of Zemo’s turtleneck, with long, fitted sleeves, all of it made of the softest silk you had ever touched. It was fitted at the top but flowy from the hips down, with a low balconette-style neckline, showing more of your chest than you were accustomed to, although you pulled it off quite nicely. It ended just above your knees, which was fine, as you sometimes wore skirts of that length. Overall, the luxury of it and the low-cut neckline ensured that you were out of your comfort zone, but you looked stunning – and expensive, despite your spite-fueled initial claim.

“I thought the color would look nice on you, and I was right. And I knew that the flow of the fabric at the bottom would allow for this,” Zemo said, his hand gingerly trailing from your waist to your thigh, where he pulled up the hem of your dress slightly to reveal the edge of the Glock strapped into your thigh holster. He smirked as his suspicion was confirmed. He knew you’d find a way to arm yourself, regardless of what you wore.

In hindsight, the way Zemo touched your side and lifted your skirt was all far more intimate than you should have allowed, and yet… you couldn’t deny the way your breath caught in your throat when he touched you, or how his close proximity made your body temperature rise, as he gazed down at you with those intense brown eyes.

Christ, you needed to get laid. Soon. Before you further entertained the idea of jumping the bones of a highly wanted criminal.

“Touch me like that again, and I will kill you where you stand,” you informed him sternly, and Zemo immediately took a step backwards, looking apologetic. From the corner of your eye, you saw both Sam and Bucky visibly relax, tension leaving their shoulders. You had read their thoughts briefly, and they were both wondering why the hell you were so calm about getting cozy with Zemo. The absolute last thing you wanted was for them to know that you were, in fact, inexplicably drawn to being that close to the Baron.

As the four of you walked along a bridge in Madripoor, Sam was quick to resume his complaining.

“We have to do something about this. I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.”

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”

“He even has a bad nickname,” Sam grumbled, then looked at the phone Zemo handed him. “Hell, he does look like me, though.”

“And who am I supposed to be?” you inquired, glancing down at your clothing to see if you could guess who you were meant to be portraying. An heiress or socialite, perhaps.

“My fiancée,” Zemo answered simply, the faintest smile on his lips.

You barked out a crude laugh, “Oh, I think not.”

“There is no one involved with Madripoor who looks like you. And it is rare that there are newcomers to the island, especially not in the place we’re going. Pretending you are someone random would raise concerns about the intentions of your presence; you would be perceived as a potential threat, which would jeopardize our mission. It is far easier to simply pretend we are engaged, I assure you.”

You hesitated a moment, before arguing, “No one will believe that we are engaged.”

Zemo pulled something from the inside pocket of his jacket, took your left hand, and slipped it onto your ring finger. It was a solitaire diamond ring; not large enough to be gaudy, but enough to catch anyone’s eye.

“They will if you play your part well,” he told you, then addressed the rest of your party when he added, “No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There is no margin for error.”

The four of you reached a sleek black car, and climbed in, you in the back between Sam and Bucky. The ride to Low Town was tense and silent, as each of you mentally prepared for what lay ahead. When you arrived, Zemo offered you his hand as you exited the car, and the pointed look in his eyes told you that it was time to begin playing your part. You took his hand, and as you began walking into the heart of Low Town, he laced his fingers with yours. As the crowd drew near, Zemo wrapped his arm around your shoulders, gloved fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your shoulder. After reading his mind, you realized that it was both for the sake of protecting you, and showing possessiveness to make it believable that you were his girl – and because he simply enjoyed having your body close, although you suspected that he’d rather you have not known that.

Despite the fact that you had been on a few missions for SHIELD, you were not exactly incapable of fear; you did not possess nerves of steel. All of the missions you’d been on were low-profile, and you were mostly just there for the sake of gathering information from those reluctant to share it. Sure, you’d been in danger before, you’d had to fight your way out of several sticky situations, but this… this was different. You were in the crime capital of the world, a lawless place filled to the brim with crooks, thieves, and murderers. More than likely, any given person around could slit your throat and never bat an eye or give you a second thought. Swallowing your own pride in the face of fear prompted you to return Zemo’s gesture, wrapping your arm around his waist and sticking close to him, which earned a smile from the man.

When you arrived at your destination, Zemo approached the bar and leaned against it confidently on one arm, the other still wrapped firmly around your shoulders.

“Hello, gentleman,” the bartender greeted, before his eyes fell on you. “Who’s your new lady friend, Baron?”

“My fiancée,” Zemo answered, then turned to you and ran his finger along your jawline, as you looked at him in adoration. “Isn’t she lovely?”

“Very,” the bartender acknowledged, then turned to Sam. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby,” Zemo responded.

The bartender made ‘Smiling Tiger’ his usual drink, which apparently consisted of… something he cut out of a snake, and dropped in a shot glass with a bit of liquor. You shared a look with Bucky before he turned away to survey the room, and when you read his thoughts, you found that you both desperately wanted to laugh out loud at Sam’s ‘short end of the stick’ situation, but didn’t want to risk everyone’s lives for the sake of a chuckle. You returned your attention to Zemo, opting to sell the whole “fiancée” thing a bit more by turning into him and tracing patterns on his chest as you gazed at him affectionately, while the bartender handed you and Zemo each a shot glass of your own – sans snake organs, thankfully. You both downed yours, while Sam understandably struggled a bit more with his, but still managed it.

A random man approached Zemo then, and as Zemo turned to face him, he protectively moved you behind him a bit.

“I got word from on high. You ain’t welcome here.”

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” Zemo countered, gesturing toward Bucky, who looked menacing as he pretended to be the Winter Soldier. “Or bring Selby for a chat.”

After a weary look in Bucky’s direction, the man walked away, and Zemo turned back around to face the bar, this time keeping you in between him in the bar, in case someone were to come up behind him – which they did a few moments later.

“Winter Soldier… attack,” Zemo commanded in Russian, as a different man came up and laid a hand on Zemo’s shoulder. With a pained look in his eye that quickly shifted to cold determination, Bucky grabbed the man’s hand with his vibranium arm, twisting it as he removed it from Zemo’s shoulder. Zemo took a step away from the bar to allow you room to turn and observe as Bucky beat the absolute shit out of various challengers. Zemo wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him as he noted, “Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.”

The unmistakable sound of numerous guns cocking drew your attention away from the altercation, and Zemo gently pushed you behind him as he surveyed the room to note all the weapons drawn. Sam grabbed Bucky’s bionic arm to stop him, but Zemo whispered, “Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us.”

“Well done, soldier,” Zemo then said to Bucky in Russian, signaling for the ‘Winter Soldier’ to stop.

“Selby will see you now,” the bartender interjected, and Bucky released his grip on the random man’s throat.

“Thank you,” Zemo responded, walking off to find Selby, grabbing your hand to guide you, but not before you spared a sorrowful glance at Bucky as your friends followed closely behind.

As Zemo took a seat on a couch across from Selby, you sat close to him, crossing your legs gracefully as you leaned into him, your arm wrapped around his as he clasped his hands in his lap authoritatively. You watched his exchange with Selby in silence, as did Sam – and Bucky, of course, considering he was pretending to be the Winter Soldier.

“By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison,” Selby told Zemo, then smiled as she looked you up and down, before her eyes found the diamond ring. “And not engaged – to a woman far out of your league, I might add.”

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” Zemo answered calmly, then looked over at you, staring into your eyes with warmth and adoration, and you smiled lovingly at him. “My beautiful fiancée was a guard at the prison. We fell in love over the years, and she helped me escape. Anyway, I’m sure you have already figured out what I’m here for.”

The conversation went relatively smoothly after that, until Sam’s goddamn phone rang and screwed the entire operation. In the blink of an eye, Selby was shot dead, you had shot two of the guards with the gun strapped to your thigh, and Sam and Bucky had each knocked out one, before Zemo suggested sneaking out of the bar as best you could, without any weapons. You secured your gun back in its holster, not missing the way Zemo watched as you hiked your dress up to do so, before making a break for it with the three of them.

Once you were on the streets of Madripoor, bounty hunters began to come out of the woodwork, and when they began shooting at you, Zemo abruptly grabbed your hand and ran down a nearby alleyway. As you were running, the heel of your stiletto caught on a grate, and you’d have fallen flat on your face if Zemo hadn’t caught you.

“Are you alright?” he asked hurriedly, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he supported you, before standing you back onto your feet. You nodded, and he glanced over your shoulder as he noticed a few men looking down the alley. “Forgive me.”

You were about to ask what he was talking about, but then Zemo abruptly grabbed you by the backs of your thighs and lifted you up, pinned you against the wall behind you, and kissed you.

The men at the end of the alleyway muttered something about “freaks who do it in public,” then their footsteps faded as they walked off, clearly thinking the two of you were some overly horny couple, not two of the people with an insane bounty on their heads. But you were barely paying them any attention, a bit preoccupied with the fact that Zemo was fucking kissing you, and much to your chagrin, you really fucking liked it.

Once there were no more voices and no more footsteps, Zemo broke the kiss and sat you down. The two of you stared at each other for a moment, before you heard more gunshots, and you broke into a run in the direction Bucky and Sam had gone, desperate to find your friends, and no time to process what the hell just happened.

As soon as you caught up with them, the two bounty hunters nearby were shot dead, and the four of you turned to see Sharon Carter emerging from the shadows.

An hour later, you found yourself in her swanky home in High Town, in a change of clothes, since the brick wall Zemo had held you up against ripped the back of your silk dress. You lied to Sam and Bucky, saying that it happened because you fell while running in your heels, and thankfully, they believed you. Sharon commanded the four of you to lay low and enjoy the party, which Sam and Bucky left her living room to go do, entrusting you with ‘Zemo watch.’

It seemed as though he was merely nursing his brandy in lieu of abandoning it for the party prior to finishing it off, but his eyes were on you most of the time. You didn't necessarily believe he could be plotting to overpower you and run off, but there is always that possibility, so you delved into his mind to check.

Expecting to find thoughts of strategy about how to defeat the super soldiers or travel plans, or even plots to escape you, Bucky, and Sam, you were astounded to find nothing but thoughts of you.

The way it felt to kiss you in that alleyway, and how he had monetarily debated just staying there, having his way with you against the brick wall before Sam and Bucky could locate you. The dress from the bar, and how it rested on your thighs, revealing just enough to have his mouth watering without being revealing to the point of immodesty. The way your necklace currently rested against your bare collarbone, and how desperately he craved to litter the area with love bites. The delicate skin of your throat, thinking of how it would look with his hand wrapped around it, just enough to cut off a bit of air but not enough harm you. How alluring your voice is, and how much he'd like to know what it would sound like to hear you scream his name. The softness and warmness of your skin when he had his arm around you in the bar, and when he held your hand as you fled the scene, and he wondered how soft and warm you were elsewhere.

"Your thoughts are filthy."

He bristled immediately, sitting straighter in his seat and eyes going slightly wide, either forgetting you can read minds or not realizing you'd be doing it right then. It only took a moment for him to regain his composure, before he took one long, last drink of his brandy and set the glass on the table in front of him. He turned his whole body to the side to face you, as you sat on the opposite end of the couch, wearing a small, somewhat mischievous smile.

"I suppose there is no sense in denying it, is there?"

"What game are you playing, Zemo?" you snapped. He was rattling you. As much as you hated to admit it, he was. For the entirety of the time you'd been around him, this wanted criminal had been flustering you, and goddammit it, you wanted to know if it was accidental, or for nefarious purposes. He could be using it as a tactic to throw you off your game, so that he could get away when it was just the two of you – like right now.

"There is no game, Liebling," he stated softly and sincerely, sensing your discomfort. Slowly, he scooted closer to you on the couch, so that the arm he had laid across the back of it was now behind you, as he stared intently into your eyes. "Merely the natural response of a man who has been widowed and then locked in a prison cell, and therefore has not known the touch of a woman in many years, sitting next to a woman of absolute ethereal beauty."

You said nothing, merely stared at him, sizing him up to see if he was toying with you or telling the truth. Zemo sensed your lack of belief in his words.

"If you doubt my true intentions, you are welcome to delve as deep into my mind as you'd like to find the truth."

In all honesty, you'd have done that already if you weren't trying to avoid being even more flustered by his thoughts about you – but you couldn't tell him that. So, you did as he bade you, and searched his mind to find any shred of malevolence towards you, but you came out empty-handed. Zemo genuinely just wanted you, craved you, like a starved man sitting in front of an endless buffet. He watched you carefully as you came to this conclusion, and although you said nothing further, he knew that you had found what you needed to know.

"Just say the word, and I will never approach the topic again, as well as attempt to quiet my thoughts about you. But if there is any part of you... deep inside you," Zemo paused, eyes grazing you up and down purposefully, before continuing, "that has any interest in being with me... I will do anything to bring that to fruition."

The ball was in your court now. You could tell him to get bent and never speak to you like this again… or you could get your rocks off, and maybe even get something more in return.

"Such as?"

"Name it, Schätzchen. Anything you want. A car, a mansion, jewels – say it and it's yours, if you will be mine," Zemo proposed earnestly, licking his lips quickly as he looked at you, visibly thrilled that he was getting somewhere with you.

You weren't the type to accept gifts from men you barely know, but… this was Zemo. A man who had done a great many terrible things, which soothed your guilty conscience. So, you said the first thing that came to mind.

"A car," you blurted out, then explained, "Mine broke down a week ago, and it's beyond repair, so… a car."

"Tell me the make and model of your preference and I'll have it delivered to your home within a week's time," Zemo said calmly, then brushed a lock of hair away from your face, before allowing his fingers to trail delicately along your cheek and jawline. "Is that all, Kätzchen?"

"No. One more thing," you replied, then looked at him sternly. "You must agree to never speak of this to Bucky or Sam."

"You have my word," he assured you, smiling in amusement.

"Then I'm yours."

Zemo's smile faded slowly, and he merely stared at you for a split second, before cupping your face in his hands and pulled you into a searing kiss, full of ferocity and sheer desperation. It shouldn't have been this easy, to kiss a man who's done such terrible things – yet here you were, melting into his embrace, allowing him to pull you into his lap and straddle him, your hands resting on his shoulders and gripping the black fabric of his turtleneck. His hands laid flat against your back as he kissed you in this new position, slowly gliding down, down your sides and to your hips. He kissed you in a way that was feverish and fast and hungry, as his fingers dug into your skin, holding you firmly against him as if he were fearful that this was all a dream and you'd disappear at any moment. Upon taking a peek into his mind, you realized that was actually exactly what he was thinking. Additionally, he mentally spoke to you directly, somehow knowing you were reading his thoughts at that moment.

"Tell me if I do anything that you do not like, and know that you have absolute freedom to end this at any given moment."

You pulled away slightly to nod in confirmation that you received his message, before resuming the kiss. Mind hazy and instincts taking over, you found yourself tugging his bottom lip between your teeth, earning a low groan from Zemo. One of his hands darted upwards to grab a fistful of your hair, right against your scalp at the base of your neck, and he pulled on it harshly, causing you to let out a wonton moan. He then laid that hand flat against the back of your neck, holding your lips firmly against his as he kissed you with even more fervor, and the other vacated its position on your hip to slide slowly up your torso, until he began palming your beast through your shirt. You moaned softly against his lips, but not as loudly as a moment ago.

Zemo wanted more, needed more; he longed to hear you loud and desperate. So he delved that hand at your neck back into your hair, gripping it tightly once more, and used it to pull your head backwards a bit, so that he could have better access to your neck. The action itself, and the tightness of his grip, earned an embarrassingly loud moan to escape your lips, and you felt him smile against your skin. He moved his hand to the middle of your back, supporting you as you leaned back a bit to grant him better access. As he littered your neck and décolletage with kisses, you felt him pull the neckline of your blouse down a little, then felt the sharp pain of a bite on your chest, above your breast. When you looked at him with narrowed eyes, he wore a cocky little grin.

"You should not be surprised, Liebling. I know you saw that I've been wanting to do that all day when you read my mind," he noted. "Wear a high neckline tomorrow, it will be fine."

Before you could respond, Zemo pulled you flush against his chest with that hand behind your back, and into another heated kiss. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and without thinking, you ground your hips down on the bulge resting against your core beneath your skirt. He groaned, both hands flying to your hips to push them down again, guiding them as you repeated the action. It only took a minute or two of this before Zemo had enough, abruptly grabbing you by the throat and throwing you down onto the couch beside him. He then loomed over you, one hand propping himself up and the other applying slight pressure to your throat, gazing at you with admiration in those searing eyes, pupils blown wide from lust. You looked right back at him, pupils undoubtedly dilated as well, eyes half-lidded, panting a little, and hair a bit of a mess.

"You are an absolute vision," Zemo praised softly, to which you smiled, then he released his grip on your neck to lean down and kiss you again. That only lasted a moment, before he broke the kiss to pull your blouse up and over your head, tossing it carelessly to the side. Your bra joined it shortly after, then he moved to your skirt, fussing with the zipper for a moment, but it seemed to be caught on something, as it wouldn't budge. Before you could interject and state that you'd get the zipper yourself, Zemo ripped the seam apart with his hands, before tearing the article from your body and tossing it like he had with the blouse. A gasp escaped you, but you had no time to think much about his actions, before he was pulling off your panties and bra as well, dropping them somewhere beside the couch.

He was then looming over you again, kissing you breathless as he rested on one elbow while the other hand toyed with your nipple, his knee coming up to rest between your legs as he laid between your body and the back of the couch. You tangled your fingers in Zemo's hair, moaning against his lips as you sought friction against his leg. He smiled softly against your lips, before your hands wandered, finding the hem of his shirt and tugging it off of him. You had just managed to get his belt off before his hand left your breast, trailing downwards across your torso as he moved his knee further away from you, before delving between your hips and expertly locating your clit.

No longer capable of focusing on ridding Zemo of his clothes, your hands gripped his shoulders, and he hissed deliciously as your nails dug into his skin when he began rubbing small, methodical circles on your clit. Small moans fell from your lips as he watched the way your mouth hung open slightly, face relaxed and eyes closed as you enjoyed his work. But again, he wanted more, needed more. Still observing you, he delved his middle and ring fingers into your core, causing you to let out a loud gasp that faded into a long, low moan. Zemo smiled to himself. That was the reaction he was dying for.

He kissed you senseless, drinking in your moans and gasps of pleasure like wine, his free hand cradling the back of your head as your arms wrapped around his neck. It didn't take Zemo long to find that sweet spot, deep inside you – as he'd subtly alluded to earlier – that longed for his attention the most.

You couldn't help but moan loudly and cry out, "Fuck! Baron!" Zemo growled low in your ear, clearly a fan of your usage of his title as he picked up the pace, fucking you with his fingers with expert precision and speed, sending you hurtling over the edge with a string of curses in both Sokovian and English. By the time he removed his fingers from you and stood, you were seeing stars, breathing heavily as you laid flat against the couch. When your dazed gaze found him, he was naked from the waist down, and was just finishing rolling a condom over his length. You had no idea where he got it from, but you were way beyond giving a shit at this point. Zemo then rejoined you on the couch, roughly spreading your legs apart as he kneeled between them, looking at you with a primal, deep hunger in his eyes.

"You are certain that you want this?"

"Yes, please – fuck," you cut yourself off as he began rubbing your clit again.

"Yes please, what?" His voice was low, teasing, as he continued his work below. "I want to hear you say it again, Kätzchen."

"Yes, please, Baron."

"Good girl."

Zemo took your leg and rested your calf on his shoulder, before easing himself into you, agonizingly slow. You watched through half-lidded eyes as his brows furrowed together, his jaw went slack, and his eyes squeezed shut as he bottomed out. He was silent, but you very much preferred it when he was a bit vocal. So, you flexed your muscles down there, and he groaned, letting his forehead fall against your shoulder.

"Do not do that if you want this to last long," Zemo suggested through clenched teeth. You smiled to yourself, then said the magic word that you knew would get him going.

"Yes, Baron."

He growled again, right in your ear, then sat more upright to begin a harsh, quick pace of thrusting. His hips collided with your body each time, causing a delicious sort of pain, and he leaned down to lock you in a messy, deep kiss.

A few minutes later, Zemo moved your other calf to his shoulder as well, and the new position enabled him to get delectably deep inside you. You raked your nails down his chest, watching as a shudder ran down his spine, all the while releasing small, breathless moans and whimpers. When he opened his eyes again to gaze down at you, he licked his lips before delving both hands under your head and into your hair, and forcefully gripped two fitfuls of it at the base of your skull. The moan that tore its way from your throat was animalistic, as your nails dug into his forearms as you desperately gripped them from their positions on either side of your head. Just then, he hit a spot deep inside of you, and that familiar, tight coil in your lower belly began to form.

"Fuck! Right there, Baron, please, right there!"

"As you wish, Schätzchen."

Zemo began to thrust even faster, careful to maintain the same angle as he released his grip on your hair and leaned up a bit, so that he could resume rubbing your clit. Moans began to fall from your lips practically endlessly, and somehow, you still needed more. More, more, more. You took his free hand and laid it on your neck, and he instinctively wrapped his fingers around your throat, careful to apply pressure on the sides but not the front, as to avoid harming you. When he opened his eyes once again and looked down at you, he couldn't stop the moan that escaped him.

"You will be the death of me, mein Engel," Zemo whispered, seemingly more to himself. All you could do was moan in response.

"Baron, I'm going to – fuck – I'm —"

"Yes, come for me, Kätzchen. I want to feel you."

That was all the encouragement it took. Well, that plus how perfectly he was rubbing your bundle of nerves, and how his pace nor angle had faltered once since you had requested exactly that. You came undone again, legs shaking as your nails clawed at his shoulder blades, earning a series of groans from him. As you came down from your high, Zemo's hips began to falter, enthralled by the waterfall you had become, soaking the base of his cock as your walls squeezed around him. His hand at your wet heat abruptly moved to grip your hip, at the same moment his hand around your throat clutched at your hair again, and he met his end with a loud, gruff moan as he spoke a mantra of nonsensical praises and your name.

Zemo rested on his arms on either side of your head, and he let your legs fall to the sides of him, breathing hard against your neck as he occasionally peppered kisses there. He remained inside you for a few moments, savoring the feeling, before you chose to have a bit of extra fun by flexing your lower muscles and squeezing yourself around him again. With a sharp intake of breath, he pulled out of you, shooting you a glare.

In Sokovian, he murmured, "You are a naughty little thing."

"You adore it."

"That I do," Zemo conceded, then stood and walked off to the restroom. You heard the tap run, and a few moments later, he returned with a glass of water for you, sitting beside your feet on the couch and resting his heels on the coffee table. He was exceptionally handsome like this; still catching his breath, sweat glistening on his forehead and chest, a content look upon his face. You spent a minute or two admiring him, before he looked over to you, and a smile blossomed on his lips.

"I cannot thank you enough for that. I must admit, I spent countless nights alone in my cell, dreaming about getting to touch a woman like that again. Especially considering the fall of our country, I never could have imagined I would be lucky enough to lay with a stunning, intelligent Sokovian woman."

"In the spirit of confessions, it's been a while for me, too. My last boyfriend was about two years ago. And I'm not the one-night-stand type. So, do with that what you will," you stated, earning a small chuckle from Zemo. You sat up so that you were sitting beside him, instead of laying down, as you continued. "I fantasized about it a lot myself, but I never even dared to think my next time would be as good as this was."

Zemo smiled, a mix of pride and joy, then his smile softened as he leaned toward you, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. "This doesn't have to be our last time, you know. I would be honored to have you as often as you'd allow me to. And I assure you, I would make it worth your while. I will give you whichever vehicles your heart desires, more jewelry than you know what to do with, take you to the most beautiful places in the world, dine at only the finest restaurants – and above all, treat you like my queen. Take care of me, and I will take care of you, Liebling."

You allowed your curiosity to get the better of you, as usual when you feared that someone was lying to you. You searched his mind for any fraction of false pretenses, but there were none. The man simply found you intoxicating, and would do whatever it takes to keep drinking you in.

The arrangement wouldn't exactly be an easy one, nor would it be all that wise – nor morally correct, in all honesty. But he was undeniably sexy, and the danger and reprehensibility of it all made it that much more alluring. And besides all that – the way his power and wealth turned you on, how good he was capable of making you feel – most Sokovians were dead, and you missed home. Getting to speak your native tongue with him, chat about your country – it made you feel at home with him.

But you wouldn't give Zemo the satisfaction of agreeing to him that quickly.

“We'll see.”

—————

Part Two

[sortasirius]

What the Fuck Happened to the SPN Finale?

Okay so here it is, my Charlie Kelly style manifesto.

Before I get into it, I recognize that I will look like this to many of you, and that’s okay, I understand:

Secondly, your personal Takes about the writers don’t interest me, I don’t need to hear them. This, as I’ll explain, is going to remain a writer positive blog, and that’s the end of it.

Third, and most importantly: some of what I’m going to talk about is fact, and some is highly educated speculation. I will notate what is speculation, just so there’s no confusion or hot takes in my inbox that I’m a conspiracy theorist or stirring shit up for no reason.

A list of what I’ll be discussing

The episode in regards to the rest of the season

The episode issues: length, editing

Scene placement and speculation of scenes cut

The scrubbing of Jack, Cas, Eileen

Network involvement and general timeline of when things were cut

Misha: theories on where he was, official company line, why we can’t expect to hear anything directly

The silence of the cast post episode (in Misha’s case, mid episode) and what this might mean

Jensen speaking with Kripke about the ending: why it doesn’t mean what you might think (also why kripke remained positive on the ending)

Walker, and why this episode had a major shift

Why the network would do this or get involved

Why the writers of the show simply aren’t the bad guys here, and what I “want” out of this post, since I know it’ll get asked

This is very long and under a cut, but I hope you’ll give it a read.

The Episode In Regards to the Rest of the Season

So, I’ve discussed this already here, but it’s the most obvious thing to me, and that’s the way this episode simply doesn’t fit with the rest of the season.

These people in this room have, truly, been nothing but consistent when it comes to their arcs, especially this season, and the marked dropoff in quality for the finale episode is just too sus to discount to me.  Dabb’s whole focus has been character-based.  In his seasons, we’ve moved far away from MOTW and bro-codependency, the found family taking it’s place.  Does it really sit right to anyone that that was all thrown away in literally the last episode of the entire show?

This is speculation on my part, but as a writer myself, there is no way I would be happy or willing to stamp my name on something that I didn’t think would, at the very least, wrap up the season+ character arcs that I and my team had been crafting.

And before anyone comes in here saying, “well GOT did that!”  Bruh.  The writing was on the wall for GOT long before the final episode.  You could tell that the showrunners just wanted to be done (not only from the plot, but from the fact that they lobbied for a shorter season).  Miss me with that, it doesn’t apply here.  Andrew has, besides Singer and J2, been with the show longer than anyone.  He cares, he is meticulous and detailed, and this ending feels worse than anything Bucklemming has ever written, let alone Dabb.

Additionally, I’ve seen a lot of people say that Dabb was never behind Destiel, that it was all Bobo and Meredith and no one else.  That is reductive to the point of insult of the work Dabb has done to get this greenlit.  This man did not write the s13 Dean grief arc to be slandered like this.  That being said, YES, Bobo and Meredith were the leads on the DeanCas arc this season, but ANDREW IS THE SHOWRUNNER, TO GET EVEN THE CONFESSION APPROVED BY THE NETWORK HE WOULD HAVE TO HAVE THEIR BACKS.  AND HE DID.

Finale Issues

So, now that we’ve gotten the fact that this episode doesn’t hit on any of the major themes the show was barrelling towards all season, let’s discuss the fact that the episode is just...weird.

Not only is it shorter than any other episode (I think with the intro and the credits/crew thing at the end, it was around 38 mins), but it was also...idk, 90% filler?

One of the lovely humans in the POLOL server did the legwork here, and broke it down:

This is weird, y’all.  Most series finales are LONGER than normal (Lost, SOA, Longmire are the ones I can think of off the top of my head), and for the final episode to be this?  I saw more than one person point out that we only really needed 19 episodes, what was the point of 20?  AND THAT’S EXACTLY IT?  WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THIS FINAL EPISODE IF THIS WAS ALL WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GET?

It simply doesn’t make any sense, the first half of the episode was rushed, a final monster hunt gone wrong, but in the second half?  Nothing really happened?  Sam lived his entire life and Dean just drove around.  It doesn’t make sense to have all the emotional arcs left unaddressed in an episode that definitely needed some kind of spark.

Here’s the speculation I have: the episode seemingly went through a lot of changes between the initial inception of the final season and when we actually got it, but I think it would have been passable (as in, we wouldn’t be sitting here asking each other why each arc feels incomplete) until the editing room got ahold of it.  The only think that makes this episode make sense is network fuckery.  Truly, that is the only thing.  It explains the weird, cuts, the rushed pacing of the first half followed by nothing in the second half, the double montages of “Wayward Son” back to back, and Dean just...driving around for the last half of the episode.

Scene Placement and Speculation of Scenes Cut

Before I get into this section, the info of the shots in the episode I have come from a source that @occamshipper​ got a week or so before the finale.  She’s talked about this here.

So here’s what Min was given:

1-5: 1 INT MEN OF LETTERS – DEAN’S ROOM Dean is greeted by Miracle

6-10: 6 INT MEN OF LETTERS – HALLWAY/SAM’S ROOM Sam has his routine

D1 1 11-15: 15 EXT FARM HOUSE Establishing

N1 1/8 16-20: 19 Dad’s journal, marker, drawing of masked man in journal.

21-25: 23 INT IMPALA – PMP Driver picks the music

N2 1 3/8 1,2 26-30: 28pt2 INT BARN: A face from the past

28pt3 Sam and Dean say goodbye

28pt4 Shot early for technical reasons, presumably the overhead shot

N2 31-45: 41 INT MEN OF LETTERS – SAM’S ROOM Sam’s alarm goes off D4 1/8 1 46-60: 56 INT N7glasses for Sam, laptop.

So...it all fits right?  It all tracks with the actual episode, where it lands, etc.  The issue is between shots 29-40 which were apparently “too big to spoil.”  Uh.  Where are they?  And where’s 28 pt4?

After Dean dies, the next scene is Sam burning him, then shot 31, the shot of his alarm going off.

So.  Where are those 11ish shots?

PLUS we have the boards, which are scenes we KNOW were actually shot:

As well as scenes for 20 that were shot in 19.

It’s just...weird, it’s weird and again hits on the fact that the episode is so short and like 80% montage.

The Scrubbing of Jack, Cas, and Eileen

So now we have to reckon with the fact that Eileen was last mentioned by Sam after she got snapped by Chuck, Jack’s last mention is that he’s off being God somewhere, and Cas’ last mention is a ~knowing look~ between Dean and Bobby.

I’m sorry, make it make sense:

????????  That’s the end if it?  They don’t need to be discussed after this???  It’s just simply not something a writer would do, they would not introduce these characters, these arcs, without thinking there’s going to be some kind of follow through here.

So not only were three major characters (including two leads and both of the original characters’ love interests) completely wiped from the finale episode, it was as though Sam and Dean never even needed them, which just...ain’t it.

So why Eileen and Jack too?  Why not just take Cas out of it if they were afraid of the gay?  Because, ultimately, the episode went back to Kripke’s original story: just the bros, they only need each other and no one else.  They don’t want anyone else, they don’t need anyone else.  Easier to go back to something they knew was successful than trust the writers and their audience and take a big leap.

Alex even said he shot for 20 with “some of the guys” here.  What happened to that footage?

The complete 180 of it all still shocks me, I still cannot believe that we were essentially at the finish line, and the network just stopped short, and decided to go run another race, at the expense of the arc of this fifteen year legacy show.

Network Involvement and When Things Were Cut

Okay, now into the juicy stuff.

So I’ve pretty well established that network fuckery is clear, but how much did they get involved, what was the original intent?

Well again, we may never actually know what Andrew’s original script was, but I think, at the least, it would involve Dean speaking his truth to Cas and Sam living a life with Eileen.

Now, it seems today, that Misha said that Jimmy Novak was supposed to be in the finale in one iteration of the script, and while initially my brain was like “that truly makes no sense and he’s either straight up lying or telling a half truth,” I think what may be happening is Misha talking about as much as he can right now.

So Jimmy right.  Weird as fuck.  Why would he been in the Roadhouse and not Cas?  My current thought (this is about as reachy as I’ll get) is that Jimmy had no lines, could he have been in the Roadhouse as a red herring, like it said “Jimmy” in the script but it was just Cas in human clothes, a way to get around the network saying Cas couldn’t be in the final scene.  Also, you’ll notice that Misha didn’t say that Cas wasn’t supposed to be in the ep at all, just Jimmy in the last scene.

All this to say, there have clearly been multiple versions of the script, getting lighter and lighter with Cas and Eileen as the network pulled further and further back.  Remember, Dabb has to get things approved before they get shot, and if the network kept asking and asking and asking to cut Cas and Eileen, he had to find a way to work around it.  Granted, I still think that if we had been able to get a Dabb script that wasn’t torn to shreds in editing, it wouldn’t be so bad.  It may not be what a lot of us wanted (Dean speaking his truth to Cas and a reciprocation), but doing everything he could to give it to us in subtext or visual clues.

Plus, in all honesty, my man can’t keep his story straight anyway.  He said twice in his panel that the Empty and offscreen Heaven ending weren’t his original ending either.

In addition, remember that Jensen did ADR post episode 18, AND said in a meet and greet last weekend that Dean’s reaction to Cas’ confession was “cut down.” (Source here).  Many of us clowns got excited when we first heard about ADR, because we thought it would be upping the ante on Dean’s reaction, but I remember being a little sus when it was just crying.  My speculation on that is that they cut out Dean actually SAYING something, @winchestersingerautorepair​ spoke about that here.

The biggest sins were, in my opinion, committed during editing, where the network got too gun shy and sliced the episode until it was nothing but a heartless bro-fest of a finale, not mentioning anything about the other major characters that we all love, and letting the boys just suffer in separation until Sam died and finally joined Dean in Heaven.  The editing came by cutting all the major emotional beats between anyone other than Dean and Sam, leaving the skeleton of the story intact, just shorter and less...poignant than it was ever supposed to be.

Misha

We know Misha was in Vancouver, we know he quarantined, but we also know he wasn’t in the final scene, when he spoke about being in the last moment of the show months ago.  We were not crazy, he was there, he quarantined, and, in all likelihood (speculation but fitting with the timeline), he actually may have shot something (not much, but something).

I have sources here, here, here, and here showing where Misha was at that time.

Remember, the man was completely open about coming back until they finished shooting (look at this thread).  The switch happened, just like everything else, halfway through them shooting.

Please also remember Jake Abel posting his “Where’s Misha” video here.  Jake isn’t malicious, he isn’t being nasty here.  Misha was there, and everyone that’s trying to convince people he’s wasn’t just...isn’t telling the truth about it.

This is one of the things that makes me really mad, because they’re literally attempting to gaslight people into thinking, “oh we were totally wrong he was never supposed to be there” WHEN HE WAS THERE, WE KNOW HE WAS THERE.

So we’ve already heard from several people (Meghan Fitzmartin, Jay, a PA on the set of 19 (WHO WAS NOT WORKING FOR 20), Misha himself) that this was all down to Covid restrictions.  Ultimately, as this post says, we’ve heard FIVE versions of where Misha was.  None of it makes sense, but the Covid protocol seems to be the company line that others are repeating.

You may ask: why?  Why lie to all of us when we have questions?  Why, in Jay’s case, say that we’re all spreading false lies to stir up trouble, when we just have questions and things that do not make sense.  Simply?  Warner Brothers is absolutely massive.  These people have their careers to protect and are likely all under NDAs.  They want to work for WB again and don’t want to burn bridges, including Misha.  It sucks, but that’s why it’s unlikely that we’ll hear someone come out and say, “yeah we’re lying to you.”

Silence of the Cast Post Episode

So this is...probably the worst part of all this, at least in my opinion.

The guys had all been pretty excited about the end of the show (especially Jared, but Jensen’s panel last week was Jensen as happy and jokey and positive as I’ve ever seen him.  He was so excited about episode 18, about what it meant for Dean and for Cas, and I just cannot buy that he would have been that excited unless he thought there was something more in the episode.

Misha live-tweeted the episode, and was watching it with his kids.  It’s well known that Misha and the kids don’t watch the show because it’s too scary, and let’s ask ourselves, why would he have them watch an episode that he’s barely even mentioned in?

He also stopped live-tweeting at a very specific point in the episode (Dean’s death) and has not mentioned Supernatural since then. 

None of them, not Jared, Jensen, Misha, or even Alex, said anything about the episode for nearly 36 hours, when Jensen posted a salty photo on instagram.  It’s just...not what you’d expect for the end of a 15 year show, when the cast and crew are so close to the fans, so close to each other. 

My theory?  They didn’t know.  They thought Misha was, at least, going to be in the episode in some way, and when he wasn’t, they decided not to say anything.

You really think that Jensen “Heller” Ackles would have been so excited about the end of the show last week if he thought Cas wasn’t going to be in it at all?  Nah son, doesn’t make any sense.

Even today, in Jared and Misha’s panels, they seemed sad and...more than a little careful, both saying that there were things they couldn’t say, both talking around things that we all have questions on.

Jensen Speaking with Kripke

So this is where a lot of people are getting fodder to take shots at the writers, saying that Jensen hated it from the beginning, but I don’t think so.  I actually think I know what Jensen went to him about, and it wasn’t the lack of Cas or the weird pacing or the montages (which I don’t think were there when Jensen got the script); I think it was the manner of Dean’s death.

I know a lot of people were upset about that, upset with how...normal it was, coming off an episode where they literally beat God.  I actually didn’t mind it, I thought it was an interesting thematic take to be like: you can be a hero all your life, but sometimes shit happens, and you just die.

But imagine how hard that was for Jensen to read.  He would run to Kripke for that, because for him, Dean dying by being impaled by a piece of rebar had to be tough to swallow.

So, why didn’t Kripke say that?  Why didn’t he say, “oh well he had a problem with Dean’s death, none of that other stuff was in the script.”

Guys.  Why would he get involved?  He’s not going to burn bridges any more than anyone else is.  He said the ending was good because it’s the easy thing to do, it’s simple, will cause him no problems in his career, and he can just ignore the people trying to engage with him on it.

Walker

Something else to talk about is the major shift this episode had from the rest of the season: the shift from Dean to Sam.  I am NOT saying that Sam isn’t important, he definitely, absolutely is, but it was DEAN who really needed to wrap up his arc, Sam just needed to move on, get married to Eileen, become the leader he was always meant to.  So what changed?  What was with the shirtless scene, the Austin number and random case there, most of the episode being heavily Sam focused, going through his entire life in a montage?

Anyone else notice the 375 Walker promos, or Jared’s little spiel about Walker and how he hoped SPN fans would “come along for the ride.”

It’s...kinda obvious?  CW wanted to appeal to who they think the key demographic of SPN and Walker is: rural areas in the South.  It would explain a lot, why so much editing, why so Sam focused, the Austin number, the number of Walker promos, all of it.

I’m not saying this is fact, I don’t know that it is, but it is a little suspicious that even in Jared’s panel today, he talked A LOT about Walker and how he hopes SPN fans will watch it.

Why Would the Network Get Involved?

Simply put: $$$

If they think Walker can be the new SPN, and that those crazy SPN fans liked it originally, it’s a lot safer to go with the “original intent” of the show than do something risky (like making one of your two original leads queer).

And?  They don’t care.  They don’t care that the episode didn’t make sense, they don’t care that all the emotional arcs were left hanging, they don’t care by (potentially) smashing together two of Dean’s monologues (one to Sam, one to Cas) that it came of as...gross. ( @curioussubjects​ wrote a beautiful post showing how part of that death speech was likely meant for Dean here).  They don’t care, they never have, they just want to make their money and move on from the too-loud fandom that fought for representation too hard for too long.

It can’t help but feel insidious, which, honestly, it might be, but it really all comes down to the next cash cow, which, they think, is Walker, even at the cost of the fifteen year legacy show.

The Writers and What I Want

So here it is, all this weird, sus shit laid out on the line.  And you know what?  To me, there is no way to blame the writers, because they didn’t want this.

I don’t think Dabb and Bobo would have gone ahead with the confession in 18 without thinking that there would be some closure to that arc, they wouldn’t have done that not only to the fans, but for the sake of their own story as well: no writer wants to start something that they can’t finish. (And this applies to both Cas and Eileen).

Here’s a basic rundown of what I think happened: they had a clear arc from 18-20, ending in reciprocation at some level from Dean, Sam marrying Eileen, Hunter Sam as the new Bobby, Dean in heaven with Cas and big roadhouse reunion at the end. Covid prevented a good amount of that. Network had to stare at big gay 18 for six months, got cold feet. Thought about Walker, target audience and alienation of the rural areas if it went full gay. Misha quarantined and likely shot something (not much), he was then cut by execs and went home. They likely added in lines referencing Eileen and Cas to make it clear but more subtextual. They wrap, editing gets it and hacks it to pieces, so we get a shorter episode that’s mostly montages and jarringly bro-centric with nothing else. Arcs are left hanging. Dabb gets episode but it’s too late, there’s nothing he can do. Actors aren’t told so they can continue to do positive PR for the ending, they all found out at the same time we did: hence almost complete silence about the finale.

And you know what?  They warned us.  I talked about it here, but they’ve been telling us all season that Chuck wasn’t the writer, he’s the network.  I don’t think, still, that they thought it would be cut up like this, into something so unsalvageable that it’s been panned by almost everyone, even people who didn’t care much about Dean and Cas.

Finally, a masterpiece can be ruined by editing, and while I’m not sure even the script they ended up shooting on was a masterpiece (due to the network meddling already), but to me it’s blatantly obvious that it’s no one but the network that caused this, that took away closure for Dean, Cas, and even Sam.

So what do I want?  Nothing really, there’s nothing we can do, but I wrote this mostly to show people that the writers are not your enemy.   In fact, to the people trashing them?  You’re doing exactly what the CW wants you to: blame the obvious targets, blame Misha, blame Jensen and Jared, blame Dabb.  Scream and yell at them on Twitter and about how the show is ruined because of them.  The network keeps their engagement levels high, they don’t get as targeted for their behavior, and just keep moving along.

Just, please, think about who did this,  Mourn the show, be angry, but not at the people who fought tooth and nail for this for literal years, not the people who wanted it more than we did, not the people who cannot say anything because of their careers and the NDAs they’re bound by.

Someone is going to spill eventually, but until then, we just have to wait, and continue to be loud.

[cherrykindness]

let's make babies |

pairing: Harry Styles x Actress!Reader

summary: you and harry are doing a live on instagram, you've drunk a lot of wine and now the world knows that the future Mrs. Styles is ready to make babies.

warnings: mostly cute, but the title tells you what you need to know 🤪

"What is your favorite song from the Fine Line album?" Y/N read aloud, twirling in her right hand the second glass of wine of the evening, the one already halfway through. "Adore You and Watermelon Sugar, of course."

Harry giggled, rolling his eyes upon hearing his fiancée's statement.

"Y/N will always choose Adore You because it was obviously written for her." He accused. "She wouldn't give that answer under different circumstances."

The comments climbed up the screen continuously, most fans gushing about how cute Harry Styles and YN/LN could be while the other part was concerned with wringing even more information out of the slightly inebriated couple who had decided to do a surprise live one early Sunday morning.

As expected after being away for some time to begin filming Don't Worry, Darling in Southern California, Harry enjoyed a lazy weekend in the house he shared with his fiancée and her pets. The days were filled with late naps and relentless Netflix marathons, sublime and ethereal evenings, marked mostly by unexpected declarations and rounds of sex that used to last until the beams of light were shyly coming through the linen curtains. They were not a monotonous couple, so this order could easily be changed.

"Watermelon Sugar is nothing more than about my love for watermelons, don't get too creative." Harry replied to a fan while sporting a corner smile, the message standing out among the rest for its dozens of emojis and large print, questioning the singer about erotic content behind the lyrics of his latest hit. "I really don't know what you guys are talking about."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head before leaning it against her fiancé's chest, propped up on the soft white pillows that were spread practically all over the bed. The air conditioner was on at a minimal temperature and a light rain whipped on the panes of glass camouflaged by the cream-colored curtain, that being the projection of Y/N's favorite nights.

"You can tell them, I'm not shy." She joked, nudging her fiancé's waist.

"You know what it was written about and who it was written for." Harry replied, raising one of his eyebrows. "That's what matters."

It went without saying that much of Harry's newest album, as well as some of his earlier work, had been done in exclusive dedication to his future wife. Y/N had been the muse for a vast repertoire of romantic songs, and even though the singer preferred to keep the story behind his more explicit compositions a "secret", the relationship the two had shared for more than three years was already solid and known enough for the media and fans to distinguish hidden messages in small details.

"It's a song about what usually comes before the act of making babies." Y/N laughed as he pointed at the display. "Honestly, you guys are impossible."

"No, we make babies every day." Harry joked, making a funny motion with his eyebrows. "I would spend my entire career writing just about that."

"Harry!" The actress exclaimed incredulously, slapping her fiancé weakly on the chest. "Children might be watching this."

"You don't want to have babies with me?" He asked falsely offended, accepting the cup that Y/N offered him. "Because I want some babies with you."

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes as she watched the internet freak out at the dialogue that had suddenly emerged. Since the beginning of the quarantine, it was kind of inevitable that the couple of artists would not become the darlings of all social media; they were fervently active with photos, videos, and lives that depicted step by step daily life in isolation, gaining more and more followers and making the media more and more fascinated by the relationship they both shared.

The wedding was scheduled for the summer of next year and it was perhaps the most anticipated event in the tabloids. Bets about what the model of Y/N's dress would be and lists presuming who would be selected for the short list of guests stood out among countless news stories about the famous people influencing pop culture today.

The possible arrival of a Styles baby was an inevitable topic in interviews. Harry and Niall were the only members of the ex-boyband that had not become fathers yet, and because they had maintained a solid relationship and were seen as one of the most enviable couples during the last four years, Y/N and Harry had gotten used to all this openly asked questions. They didn't mind, they even had fun with the montages and all the anxiety that dominated the whole internet, often mentioning the fandoms' efforts to represent them as such "cool" parents in perfectly edited pictures.

"No, guys, I'm not pregnant." Y/N amusingly clarified the doubt of dozens of new comments. "Please don't believe so many controversial news stories that appear out there. I was on twitter last week and saw several people theorizing about a possible pregnancy, most of the arguments based on a website that used photos from the set of How to Get Away with Murder in the season where I was actually playing a pregnant woman as Laurel." She laughed. "It's so funny! I know you guys love to guess these things, but we won't hide something so special when it actually happen, I promise."

"Especially because Y/N can hide absolutely nothing from anyone." Harry accused, leaving his drink on the corner table before settling into a comfortable position for the two of them. "Anyone who's a Marvel fan knows that. That's one of her most characteristic quirks."

"They gave me a fake script for the last two movies." Y/N agreed, shaking his head. "For me and Tom."

"We agreed to keep the engagement a secret for a while. The plan was to travel to Holmes Chapel to break the news to my family in person, but guess who got a call at ten o'clock at night from an angry Anne because she learned of her son's engagement from an interview Y/N gave the next day?"

Y/N gave a guilty smile, winking gracefully at the camera. "It was all James' fault! I'm sure he already suspected something, those questions were very suspicious."

"Of course the questions were suspicious, babe. You literally said you had a secret that involved both of us but that you couldn't tell because it was important that our families knew first."

"I thought he would think about a pregnancy or something!" The actress defended herself, feeling very convincing in her intonation bordering on obviousness. "That's a mania I can't get rid of, it's in my genes."

"Did you all hear that? Further proof that you guys don't have to worry about guessing when Y/N's pregnancy will be, I'm sure our baby will make sure to tell you everything while still in the womb, mom's genes will make sure of that."

"You are so funny, Harry Styles." Y/N sarcastically stated, holding back a giggle as countless messages with laughing emojis were frantically up. "Yeah, I know I talk a lot and all, but you have annoying quirks too."

It was obvious that live would be news the next day. Although they were completely open about matters concerning their relationship, nothing seemed better than receiving so much exclusive information from a Harry and S/N drunk on expensive wine.

"You wake up in a bad mood and you're dangerously sexy, that should be illegal."

Harry laughed, holding his fiancée's waist a little tighter as he felt her tumble a little further to the side, getting closer and closer to the edge of the bed. Y/N was dangerously weak for drinks, and the singer knew that the actress' body was already near its limit.

"You're the only sexy person here, love." He declared with a corner smile, evidently finding the whole situation funny. "Do you want to go to sleep now?"

"No." Y/N shook her head. "Can we watch some movie? Can we watch Sweet Home?"

"Of course, love." He murmured, giving the woman a quick kiss on the forehead.

Even though Harry knew that his fiancée was unlikely to make it past the five-minute mark of the episode, he made sure to restart the korean series at exactly the scene where she had stopped, the first chapter still halfway through after Y/N realized that it would be impossible to watch such a macabre work without a drop of alcohol in her blood.

She had been so excited by the taste of Argentinian wine and the idea of updating her fans after a few weeks away, that she had forgotten the main purpose of the live. Harry and Y/N had been apart for a few days due to the new movie the Brit was shooting in North America, all happening in an unrestrictedly careful manner due to the restrictions caused by the pandemic.

He was slowly migrating towards acting and the future Mrs. Styles couldn't be prouder. Y/N had felt on cloud nine when Harry had given her the news of his upcoming job, but her only pronouncement on the subject had been a succinct post on instagram. Just a photo of the couple on a trip to Germany with a simple heart emoji didn't seem enough for the actress' exhibitionist soul, and coming to that conclusion was the main reason she decided to invite him, already relatively changed, for a live appearance. Y/N wanted to go on and on about how much she loved that man and work on that whole honeyed speech that would bring her (once again) the title of "cutest bride of all time," but of course Harry had to come home from his trip with his favorite red wine and poison her with those sweet caresses that took her out of orbit, turning the degree of alcohol content into the least of her problems.

"You're going to kiss Florence." Y/N exclaimed suddenly, as if only now realizing that her fiancé would share the screen with Florence Pugh, one of her closest friends in that industry. "Kiss on the mouth."

The MacBook was still open and hundreds of new comments were going up every second, but Harry didn't bother one bit to warn her about the possibility of her becoming a meme the next day. He was having too much fun with the situation to worry.

"Are you jealous?"

"Yes." She stated with a pout. "I am jealous, I just don't know if I'm more jealous of her or of you."

"But you kiss me every day, babe." Harry laughed. "And you've been kissing other people's men for almost ten years." He joked.

"But I only think about you, I already told you that."

Harry shook his head negatively at the camera, knowing he was sharing with the fans the funniest side of his fiancée.

"I know that, honey." He assured, lightly stroking the actress' back. "I think we'd better turn off the TV and go to sleep now, I'm sure you'll have a terrible headache tomorrow."

The brit planned to bid his audience goodbye and put an end to that recording, but Y/N was drunk and her sense of right and wrong had already gone to space. Harry should have been quicker, however, because his fiancée's speech would be cause for new tags and the only subject for the interviewers for at least the next few months.

"I don't want to sleep, how about we make babies?"

That's what Watermelon Sugar was all about, after all.

[javier-pena]

take

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x f!reader

Word Count: 3k

Rating: Explicit (that means 18+/no minors!!)

Summary: Javi and you are enjoying breakfast on his yacht until things take an unexpected turn.

Warnings: mentions of food | thigh riding | dirty talk | orgasm delay/denial | public sex (I’m sure what they’re doing is actually illegal) | daddy kink | implied sugar daddy Javi Gutierrez | Javi is a Tease (capital T to show how serious his crimes are) | Javi in that orange shirt

Notes: I saw a picture of Javi and all I could think was, “I wanna feed him berries”. So that’s the reason I wrote this fic. That’s the only excuse I have. Oh and also that I want Javi to call me a bad girl but whatever, we don’t need to talk about that. Anyway, as always, I owe most of this to Dani @javierpcna​, literally everything I write should come with Dani’s name listed as co-author, her support knows no bounds, she literally drops everything when I send her a fic to proofread, and this was no different. And she also lets me use her brilliant lines from time to time, for which I can never repay her.

Notes II: I have neither seen the movie nor have I read the script, so if there are any spoilers in there (I doubt it) I didn’t put them in intentionally.

Notes III: Artwork by @honestly-shite​ | Moodboard by @frankiemorales​

***

One.

He lets you feed him one berry, but only after you tell him how good they taste, how they melt on your tongue, how they fill your mouth with a soft sweetness. He raises an eyebrow at that, and you know what he’s thinking, but he doesn’t say it. Instead, he takes the small blueberry from your outstretched fingers, leaning on the laden breakfast table to make it easier for you to reach him. The berry is so small it’s impossible for him to pull it in between his lips without the tip of your finger vanishing, too. You shudder at the sensation, shudder despite the heat, despite the hotness of his tongue brushing against your sensitive skin.

Javi hates breakfast. He hates dedicating time during his busy day, during the mornings when he feels most productive, to eating when it can be done en passant. You keep telling him it’s not healthy to eat while he’s distracted, and you’ve been trying to convince him to have breakfast with you for a few weeks now.

Why, babe? You said distraction is bad for me when I eat.

He still doesn’t eat during the mornings, only drinks his heavy, smoky, black coffee, but he keeps you company now whenever he can. He reads to you from the morning paper, he tells you about his plans for the day, or he listens to you talking about a dream you had last night or about things you would like to do with him one day. And today … today he even made time to take you out on his yacht, to anchor it in a secluded bay where there’s no noise except the lapping of the waves against the bright white hull of the ship and the cries of the seagulls circling above, hoping to snatch a crumb of the croissant on your plate. Today, he’s made time to be with you.

Two.

You try it again, another berry, another taste of sweetness, another burst of flavor and color and sugary juices. This time it becomes clear he’s chasing something else, craving something else, as he sucks on your finger, just for a brief moment, just under the pretense of getting the sticky juice off your skin, but he also isn’t shy about it, he also doesn’t try to hide what he’s doing. Your skin prickles when he releases the digit, and you pull your hand back across the table too quickly, too hastily. He notices and leans back on his expensive outdoor couch with a satisfied sigh.

You dry your finger against the hot skin of your leg, already burning up with the heat of the approaching day, even though you keep to the shadows. Only your feet rest on an empty chair in direct sunlight, while you keep the rest of your body safe under a wide canopy. Javi is doing the complete opposite. He’s lounging in direct sunlight, and you’ll never understand how he can stand it. Your skin always starts to tickle and itch from the heat, while he looks like he was made to live in a Mediterranean country and spend his days in the sun.

The bright, orange shirt he’s wearing is unbuttoned to expose half his chest. His bronze skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, and you cannot tear your eyes away from it, imagining what it would feel like to run your fingers over it, how hot it would feel under your hands, how he would sigh and relax into your touch. His chest is your favorite place in the entire world. You feel safe when you rest your hand on it, when he softly runs his fingers along your arm, tells you how beautiful you look, how he will always take care of you, no matter what, how you’ll never need to worry about anything ever again because you’re his and he’s yours. And you feel oh so secure when you’re trapped under it, when you feel its weight pressing down on you, when your sharp nails leave angry, red scratches on his soft skin as he whispers into your ear – encouraging, soothing, filthy.

Three.

You want to see it move, see the muscles flex and strain as he leans forward again to accept a third berry from you. And this time he’s not shy about it anymore. This time, he does suck your finger in between his lips, the berry forgotten, and you see his eyes widen behind his dark sunglasses. You suck in a sharp breath at the sight. He releases your finger with a wet pop and suddenly this isn’t enough. Suddenly you need more, more of him, but you lower your gaze to your plate instead to hide your shining eyes. There is a time and place for these things and the deck of his yacht in broad daylight isn’t it.

But you cannot deny what your body wants, even though your mind tells the aching between your legs to shut up. You push yourself out of your chair fast and within a few steps you’re leaning against the railing, hoping to catch a breeze to soothe your flushed face. But there is none, only unbearable heat.

When you turn around again, you feel a different kind of heat; Javi’s gaze is on you as he takes you in. You know he loves to do this, especially when you’re wearing something he bought you, like you’re doing this morning – an expensive black bikini that leaves little to the imagination, one you found on your bed one morning with a small note that made you shudder, so you decided to save it for a special occasion. And you were right to do so because he’s unable to tear his eyes away from you.

You walk back to the table as slowly as possible, determined to finish breakfast, but something pulls you toward him, like an invisible rope slung around your waist, like his gaze is enough to make you lose all sense of control. And before you know it, you’re straddling his thigh, while he pulls you into a kiss, one that lasts forever yet not long enough, one that sets you on fire more than the sun on your back yet makes you want to expose more skin so more of you will get burned.  

The second his teeth release your lip his hands fly up to rest against your hips, his grip firm but easy to get out of if you wanted to. “Is there something you wanted, baby?” he asks you, innocence written all over his face, as if he truly is completely unaware of the effect he has on you, of the things he makes you want to do when his eyes follow you around like you’re the eighth wonder of the world.

You bite your lip, bite the spot that still feels raw from where he sucked on it moments earlier, and then you start rolling your hips, start chasing the friction to relieve some of the hot, searing pressure that’s been building between your legs since he sucked your finger into his mouth. You see his eyes lower dangerously when he realizes what it is you want from him, and everything shifts, shifts as if the yacht is hit by a strong wave. You’re all too familiar with this change and you know exactly what it means, and what it entails.

One of your hands lands on the collar of his shirt out of its own free will, your fingers clawing at the material in a desperate attempt to steady yourself. The palm of your other hand presses against his warm, sun-kissed chest, your nails eager to leave marks on his skin. But instead of pressing into your touch, he leans back and watches you with mild interest.

This is all the permission you need. You grind your hips with a sense of purpose now, and when you feel the muscles of his leg tense between yours, a small whimper escapes your lips.

He smirks at you, and you know his eyes are sparkling, even though you can’t really see them. “Come on,” he urges you, pressing up into you, “make yourself feel good.”

With a desperate moan, your head falls onto his shoulder, your forehead scraping against his shirt, and you bite your lip because it’s the only thing stopping you from biting the exposed skin of his neck. You know he’d like that, he likes it when you are rough with him, but it also unleashes something in him you want to keep locked away today. You know it’s selfish and greedy, but all you want to do this morning is take, and not think about him.

He makes that resolve very difficult to keep.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asks you, a hand at the back of your neck, trying to get you to lift your head.

You don’t answer him, you can’t, but you indulge him and lift your head again. You pick up the pace, determined to show him how much you like it, how good it makes you feel, but he only smirks at you again, like he doesn’t need an answer anyway, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

And suddenly, suddenly that selfish streak is gone, and you want him closer to you, all over you, inside of you. You don’t care that you have to give up the last bit of control you cling to, and give yourself over completely to him, you don’t care that it’s broad daylight and that another boat could sail into your tiny bay any second now, you don’t care about being discovered or about this being, strictly speaking, illegal. You just care about him fucking you like he does when he has you to himself, sprawled out under him, trapping you with his broad chest and toned arms, forcing you to take whatever he gives you.

But before you can tell him any of that, the hand at the back of your neck is gone and he lifts up his sunglasses and tosses them aside, so you can look right into his eyes, so you can see that you’re not the only one who’s affected by all of this. His gaze roams all over you, from your eyes shining with hazy lust to your legs squeezing around his thigh and your hips rolling with an urgency, pushing you steadily closer to finding the release you’re chasing. But this isn’t enough, you both know that; it’s enough to keep the fire going, but not enough to push you over the edge.

His free hand brushes against the exposed skin of your belly, his fingers run along the seam of your bikini top, and you push yourself forward, willing him to cup your breasts, pinch your nipples, anything, anything to relieve the ache and burning, the feverish craving you feel for his touch, his lips, his words that leave no doubt about who is in control. But he doesn’t give you any of that. Instead, his hand moves to your back to steady you, to hold you in place, and all he does is toy with the strap of your top holding everything in place at the back of your neck.

You don’t know what makes you look down to where your bodies are connected, but you do, and he follows your gaze. You both watch as a dark patch forms on the light fabric of his slacks, as it spreads more and more with each thrust of your hips.

“You’re making a mess,” Javi breathes quietly, so quietly you almost don’t catch it over the sound of the water against the yacht’s hull. His gaze is transfixed, his attention is on the evidence of your arousal as he watches with great interest. You feel heat spread from your chest along your arms and up your neck to your face, but you don’t stop.

“Look at you, princess,” he goes on, his left hand gripping your side tighter to slow you down until you drag yourself along his leg painfully slowly. “Look at how you’re getting daddy’s trousers all wet, they’re probably ruined now.” He pauses at your sharp intake of breath. There’s a dark glint in his eyes when he speaks next. “You’re a bad girl.”

You’re pretty sure the sound you make isn’t human. He lets go of your side and rests his hand on your thigh, letting you set the pace again.

“Please,” you whine, and you don’t quite know why you say it, what you want him to do, you just know he needs to do something, or you’ll go crazy. “Please, Javi,” you repeat. “Please, just … touch me,” you finish, and it’s stupid, he is touching you, just not in the way you mean, but you cannot come up with anything else to say.

“You’re always so greedy,” he observes, not making any move to fulfil your request. “I’m already giving you what you want and still you want more. Don’t you want to be daddy’s good girl?”

You don’t know the answer to that question. You wouldn’t know your own name if he asked you right now. Not because of the things he’s saying but because he raises his leg ever so slightly to push up against your clit and every coherent thought you might have had is drowned out by incoherent sounds leaving your mouth. You press down against him, grinding down with so much force he’s bound to lower his leg. Only … he doesn’t.

“Sorry, I didn’t get that,” he says, a picture of calmness and poise. “Can you repeat that for me?”

You absolutely cannot because you can’t remember what you said in the first place, but you give it another try. “Javi, please, give me something,” you swallow, “anything. Touch me, please.”

“No,” he says, but his voice sounds strained now, like uttering that two-letter word takes a lot of effort. “I want to hear you beg.”

“Please,” you say again, knowing it won’t be enough. “Please, I can’t …”

“Why not?” he wants to know.

“It’s not enough, I ...,” you swallow again, your throat completely dry, “why are you doing this to me?”

“Oh, baby, you’re not even trying to get yourself off,” Javi chuckles. “I know you can do better than that.”

“I am trying,” you tell him, but it’s nothing more than a desperate whine.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he asks you.

And he’s right, it is, it was ten minutes ago when you thought all you had to do was look pretty and he’d fuck you, but now that he’s seen right through you, now that he has decided he doesn’t want to give you anything more than he has to, it isn’t anymore. You want so much more than this, and you know there’s just one way to get it.

With a small movement you change your position slightly until you roll your hips against where he’s straining against the fabric of his slacks, and a low hiss is your reward, followed by a sharp slap to your ass that makes your hips stutter, and you lose your steady rhythm. Both his hands are on your hips again and he pushes you down hard against the firm muscles of his thigh.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he tells you. “I’m gonna give you what you came here for, nothing more, nothing less.”

“Javi,” you groan.

His hands move your hips, his arms straining with the effort of keeping you in place, and you let him, even though all you can think about is his hard cock only inches away from you. You think about him pushing into you, about the filthy, wet sounds it would make, about how he’s the only one who can reach so deep inside of you he makes you see stars with every thrust.

“All right,” Javi says. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “You can have it.”

You’re sure you misheard. You’re sure he didn’t just say that. After all he’s put you through, he won’t give in that easily. But you clench around nothing nevertheless, clench around thin air at the thought of him inside of you.

“Later,” he adds, and your heart almost stops. “I’m gonna fill your pretty mouth, but only if you’re good for me.”

You want to, you’re trying to, but you cannot do this anymore. If he’s not going to touch you, if he won’t fuck you, you have to do it yourself.

One of your hands leaves his strong shoulders and you frantically push the fabric of your swimsuit aside, pressing a finger against your aching clit. You moan in relief, but it only lasts a moment, because his left hand closes tightly around your wrist without any warning, and he twists your arm until he has it in a firm grip pressed against your back. The ring he wears on his little finger digs painfully into your soft skin.

“You were doing so well,” he says with a disappointed sigh.

“It’s not –,” you start, but you’re not allowed to finish the sentence.

“No, it is enough,” he tells you firmly, his eyes boring into yours.

But he does reach up, he does pull the string of your top until it comes loose and your tits spill out. He lets go of your arm but before you can decide what to do with your newfound freedom, his fingers close around your throat at the same time as his mouth closes around one of your nipples.

That’s all it takes.

You arch your back with a scream and come right there on his thigh in broad daylight, while he holds you in place with hands and mouth. It goes on forever, or at least it feels like that, and he’s unrelenting, first sucking one nipple into his mouth, then biting down hard on the other. When it becomes clear he’s not planning on stopping, you grab a fistful of his soft curls and pull him away from your chest with a sharp tug.

“Had enough?” he asks, his lips shiny and slightly swollen.

You nod slowly because you don’t trust your voice right now.

“Well, I haven’t,” he growls. “And I will tell you when you’ve had enough.”

taglist: @badbatches​, @darksber​, @doin-stuff​, @filthybookworm​, @for-my-satisfaction​, @frannyzooey​, @javigutierrez​, @karkii​, @pann-malii​, @raspberrymama​, @silksaddle​, @skeletonstwins​, @skyshipper​, @sunnydunnydays​

[simplicitydefined]

I’ve been busy manifesting all year and I’m finally ready to talk about it. 😅 Let’s start with the basics:

Manifesting is not:

❌Affirmations

❌Scripting

❌Subliminal messages

❌Meditation

❌SATS

❌Vision boarding

❌3*33

❌5*55

❌Rampaging

❌Or anything else.

Manifesting is the act of receiving your desires. The rest are tools that prepare you to receive. Because they are tools you can choose which one works best for you and what you’re trying to bring forward. So when people tell you scripting is the only way, or something similar that’s incorrect. Scripting is the best way for them, you need to try different methods to find out what works best for you.

Similarly, different belief systems such as the Law of attraction, assumption, belief, equivalent exchange, emergence, etc work differently for different people. As well as different teachers resonate with each of us differently. There are hard core Joseph Murphy and Neville Goddard followers as well as Dylan James or Sammy Ingram. Spending time arguing over who is right is wasting time. I’m more focused on getting my desires then trying to convince you that Abraham Hicks is better than Louise Hay. If Louise helped you manifest then stick with her. Hell, if Bob Proctor or Les Brown did it, great! Just manifest, stop trying to turn this into organized religion. 😩 Believe, do, think, however works best for you. The goal is to get your desires.

For myself I’m into law of assumption, and I listen to a few different people including reading religious texts. I also find subliminals work best when I start working towards something. This is because I don’t have to actively do anything other than listen to music. I don’t have the resistance I do by writing something or speaking it outloud when I’m not in the belief/faith state.

Speaking of states these are the states I will mention frequently to describe where we are mentally.

0️⃣ 😶Level zero is Oblivious. You are just living and hoping some good things happen. You may be fearful of change, and pessimistic.

1️⃣ 😫Level one is Desperation. This is when you need this change. You’ve decided you no longer want to live this way and you need a change now. You are probably anxious and full of doubt here but you’re willing to try anything. You may use multiple methods constantly and can be very obsessive over your desire and how you can get it. You may also spiral often. You may manifest your desire and push it back out in a rapid cycle. (Coming into money and then you have an emergency expense, getting a new car and it breaks down, getting asked out on a date and getting ghosted right after…) It often feels like an emotional roller coaster of highs and lows as well as massive change.

📍if you’re in this state try not to get swept up in spending money to learn how to manifest. All the information you need is out there for free on almost every social media app. People prey on desperation and will give you the same free information for $399. So be safe out there!

2️⃣ 💆🏾‍♀️ Level two is Calm. You still really want something but you’re no longer hyper emotional about it. You’ve seen your desires come in, and you’re starting to believe this may work. You’re willing to listen and work on yourself as you find lack thoughts coming up. But you may still spiral from time to time, you just have the tools to bring yourself back to this calm place. You may lean on the tools heavily to help maintain your mindset.

3️⃣ 🤔Level three is faith (or belief). You still have lack thoughts or beliefs but you believe generally that everything is working out for your good. When those thoughts come up you easily rebuke them. You no longer feel obsessive over your desires. You may say “if I don’t get this I’ll get something better”. You’ll also feel more relaxed about using methods, and things like affirming aloud feel better.

4️⃣ 🧘🏾‍♀️Level four is knowing. The major shift is instead of saying “if I don’t get this…” you know that you will get that. There is no other choice, it’s already yours. You’ve seen countless things manifest, you have a good handle on your thoughts, and you only use tools when you need them.

📍You don’t just ascend to level 4 and stop. You probably will be in multiple states at once. You may be on level 4 in your love life, 2 in finances, 0 in career, and 1 in your appearance. You can also get to 4, get triggered by the 3D and spiral to level 1. You want to work on your triggers so you can stay in levels 3 and 4 or at least 2. This requires shadow/inner work.

📍You can and WILL manifest at ALL levels including 0. The state only gives a clue to how you will respond to receiving your desire and the ease of keeping it. You don’t have to do anything to receive your desires including shadow work.

📍The negative thoughts will always show up. It’s a natural protective response. Fear and anxiety are trying to protect you from hurt. Your job is to learn how to respond to them.

🚨I like to use the smoke detector analogy. If you’re burning bacon in the kitchen and the smoke detector goes off do you run outside and call 911? No, you open a window and maybe take the battery out of the detector. You know why it’s going off and you know you’re safe. But if it goes off at 3 am when everyone is asleep then you call 911 and evacuate the house.

The majority of the time it’s just “burnt bacon” 🥓 and you’re absolutely fine. So we need to learn to open the window, and turn off the alarm (ground/calm yourself) instead of calling 911 (giving up on our desires and spiraling)

// Side note: if you like me are diagnosed with anxiety (any form) you know this is a constant war. Make sure you’re using your tools that your doctor gave you as well. 🫂

📜My main rules are:📜

1️⃣ Your desires desire you 🫂

2️⃣ The universe/God/Source/Spirit wants you to have your desires 🫂

3️⃣ The universe/God/Source/Spirit is supporting you to get your desires 🤲🏾

4️⃣ The universe/God/Source/Spirit only says yes 👍🏾

5️⃣ You desire it because it’s yours. 👸🏾

6️⃣ No one has to agree or understand this other than you. 🤷🏾‍♀️

👩🏾‍🏫 I’m going to break some major points down in a series of future posts, feel free to add your thoughts.

🗃Next topic: Faith

[chaeiimimi]

HEY BUBS! I HOPE YOU’RE DOING GREAT, PART TWO WAS SUCH A BOMB AS WELL ALDJAKDJA I’M LOWKEY GETTING BABY FEVER ALREADY AT THIS POINT LMAO JK AKSJAKS IF YOU HAVE TIME, I’D LIKE TO REQUEST OSAMU / SUNA / OIKAWA / AKAASHI ALDHAKS ANY OF THEM WOULD BE FINE UWU 😫

HEY BUBS I’M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY BFIWBFIWBF MY LIFE’S BEEN PRETTY CRAPPY LATELY, I’M GLAD YOU LIKED THE SECOD PART AAAAA STAY HAPPY AND HEALTHY BUBS ILY <3

Haikyuu Boys and a Single Mom Pt. 3

Featuring: Suna, Bokuto, Kenma

Suna Rintaro

despite being a professional volleyball player, Suna was still a university student, he evenly splits up his days to go to volleyball practice and university

he was always dreading to go to university, but he knew he needed it, and you, being his seating beside you in three classes, made university bearable

you had this amazing aura, always so gentle, and kind, you had a soft smile plastered on your face almost like a motherly smile, your voice was always calm and soft, you were just so breath-taking to look at

although you two never talked that much, Suna already knew a lot of little details about you, he once drove pass you walking to the kindergarten just one street away from your university, he knew that you carry a container of fruits in your bag, you always left as soon as classes for the day was over, and that was only a few among a hundred of little things about you

Suna admired you from afar, as much as he likes you so much it physically hurts him, love just wasn't his priority, his priority was volleyball and his career

or at least he thought

life surely has a great sense of humor because somehow you guys ended up being partners for a thesis paper

"I look forward to working with you Suna" you smiled

"likewise" he says with his usual blank face

Suna didn't want to admit it, but he was excited

"so, where do we work on this?" he asks looking at the notes he took for that class

"well, we can work on it at my place" you say casually while also looking at your notes

"are you sure it's okay?" he asks again to make sure, this girl, the person he's been crushing on for his two years in university is now inviting him to her place

"yeah, i can't really spend a lot of time outside, my son hates it" 

and just like that Suna was having a mini heart attack, you were married? you have a son? what-

“hey, you alright?” you asked worriedly

Suna quickly composed himself 

“uhh y-yeah, won’t your husband get angry?” he asks 

“oh don’t worry I raise Kiro by myself” you smiled

Suna looked at you strangely, unable to keep up 

you chuckled at his dazed look “I’m a single mother” 

Suna almost breathed out a sigh of relief, thankfully he was able to stop himself or else you would get the wrong idea

“yeah, yeah sure, let’s work on it at your place” he snapped out of it, did he sound too happy to hear that you were single? yes, but we ain’t gonna talk about that 

what was your ex thinking? he was pretty sure your kid was cute and you were so breath-taking to look at, what a stupid guy    

“what does your son likes?” 

“hm?” you asked him to make sure you heard him right 

“what does your son likes?” 

later in the evening, Suna showed up at your place with chocolate chip ice cream and the most expensive sushi he could find

you worked on your project for a good two hours, finalizing the outline of the thesis, while Kiro sat on Suna’s lap, your son immediately liked him, maybe because of the ice cream and sushi , but Kiro was very fond of him

“Kiro, baby, get off of Suna’s lap please he might get tired” you said to your son while you were keeping the things you used

“I don’t mind, he’s surprisingly light” Suna says as he bounces Kiro on his lap

“alright, if you say so, I’m going to prepare snacks” you made your way to the kitchen and left the two in the living room

“mister rin-rin” Kiro whispers while tugging on Suna’s shirt

“hm?” he answers looking at the kid, he was right, Kiro was extraordinarily adorable, it felt like he was looking at a smaller boy version of you and it was making her heart go feral, making him break his rules and try his best to get the both of you

“i want you to be my daddy” he whispers while fiddling with his fingers shyly

please this man is about to combust

he pats the boy’s head “sure bud” he said with a smile

“then can I call you dad?” he asks , eyes sparkling

“well it’s better to start early right? sure you can bud” he says, a full-blown grin plastered on his usually stoic face

Bokuto Koutaro 

the flashing and clicking of cameras occupied the whole room where the MSBY Jackals were holding their post-game press conference, they won the game by the way and Bokuto was in high spirits answering questions thrown at him by the reporters 

it was your turn to ask a question to the players and you stood up “Bokuto-san, your fans are always wondering why you’re always in high spirits, what is your secret?” 

Bokuto has never seen you before, were you a knew reporter? because damn he would’ve noticed you immediately if you were on their past press conferences, you looked like a celebrity to be quite honest 

“I’m playing volleyball, there’s no room for me to be unhappy” he simply says 

 it was you first day at your new job, quite frankly, you’re glad you quitted your old one, they forced you to stay behind the camera and write scripts for anchors when you finished a bachelor degree on broadcasting 

“Can’t blame him, I’m also happy when I do my job” you mumble to yourself as you remembered Bokuto’s answer to your question

“mama!” you looked at your son who was in the arms of your cousin Kuroo

“hey thanks for doing this for me couz” you say as they stopped right in front of you

“mama! have you seen the game?! they were so awesome! Uncle Tetsu promised me to go meet MSBY!” your son happily jolts in his Uncle’s arm

you looked at him with a motherly smile, happy that you’re son enjoyed the game 

“you coming with us?” Kuroo asked

“you two go ahead I’ll just rest for a bit” you were tired with keeping up with the game and asking questions 

the two nodded “alright, just show this to the guard and they’ll let you enter” Kuroo says, handing you a pass

you mutter a small thank you as you watch them walk away

let’s just say Gen, your son, was liked by every single member of the team, I mean, who could ever dislike such an adorable kid?

“MSBY cool! Shoyo pwaaa! Boto bam!” he says while jumping up and down, while Kuroo watched his nephew smiling

Bokuto was particularly very fond of him, was it because the kid was unbelievably adorable? or was it because the kid reminded him of a certain reporter? He’d like to think both

“Gen-kun who’s yer fav’rite player eh?” Atsumu asks the kid

the kid looked at eight full-grown man looking at him expectantly, his eyes stopped on the black-and-white haired spiker and made grabby hands towards him “BOUTO! BOUTO!” 

the members were disappointed but not surprised at all, kids tend to go to Bokuto or Hinata since they have the friendliest faces

“HEY! HEY! HEEEY!” Bokuto did not hesitate and lifted the boy up in the air, as they both giggle

“Tetsu?” your voice interrupted the commotion inside the room

Kuroo went to the door and opened it for you and the first thing you saw was your son giggling with the person stuck in your head for about twenty minutes now

“Mama!” your son screamed as soon as he saw you and asked to be put down to run towards you giving you a hug on your leg you looked down at him and patted his head gently

Kuroo cleared his throat “this is Y/N L/N my cousin, the mother of adorable the adorable Gen, she is single and ready to mingle, 2 in 1 you get an adorable son and a lovely wife, contact me for more details, the price can be discussed” 

you deadpanned at your cousin, why tf was he selling you like an auction, you shook your head 

you were hyper aware of the intensity of the owl-eyed spiker, making you blush

while Bokuto was over here thinking, damn he hit the jackpot an adorable son and an absolutely gorgeous wife? you bet he’s in and he’s gonna do everything he can to win you and make you and your son happy

“I’m sorry about him, please excuse me, my son and I needs to leave” you said politely and bowed as you take your son away

unbeknownst to you, Bokuto was in the middle of business with your cousin

“hey, how much for the details?” Bokuto whispers to his bestfriend as if they were in the middle of an illegal transaction

Kuroo looked at his friend with eyebrows raised

“I’ll pay any amount” Bokuto was very serious, which made the former Nekoma captain burts out laughing

“well, since you’re my good friend, a few drinks will do” Kuroo after his hyena laugh session

“Hey! hey! hey! thanks Kubroo!” Bokuto says in his usual cheery voice

later that night, you wondered why you were having dinner with your son, your cousin, and the former captain of Fukurodani, how he managed to get you flowers in such a short amount of time and this late at night was beyond your knowledge. But you weren’t complaining though, how could you when he looked adorable with a flushed face asking for your number after driving you and your son home.

Kenma Kozume

Kenma wasn’t fond of kids, he didn’t disliked them, he just preferred hanging out with adults who were less hyper, proceeds to hangout with Bokuto, Hinata and Kuroo

but he was a gamer and it is inevitable that some of his fans were kids, he didn’t mind it though he is thankful to each and everyone of his fans

being the twenty-eight year old youtuber/CEO that he is, he barely have time to go out and it happened very rarely, and today happened to be one of those rare occasions as he got out to get some ice cream in a very hot summer day

but he was in a for surprise, at an empty alley, he heard a ruckus

“give it back! please give it back!” 

it was never in Kenma’s personality to pry, but something was pushing him to go check out what was going on

he went inside to the dark alley and saw four boys, about eight years old, one was in the middle, his clothes all crumpled and dirty, his bag empty, his things sprawled out, scattered in front of him

“you want this thing? it’s not even the latest model, you think kodzu-” 

Kenma cleared his throat, already able to register what was happening

“ken” the bully continued

“you know kids, I don’t really like bullies” Kenma starts as he walks towards the little boy, picking up his scattered things one by one and putting it in his bag

“leave, before I report you to your school” Kenma says stoically which made one of the boys drop the game console in his hand as the three of them scramble to get out of the dark alley

the little boy picked up the game console and tried to open it, but to no avail, it was broken

Kenma went closer as he handed him his bag 

“are you okay?” he asked as he crouch down to the boy’s level, it was obvious that he was not okay, his face had little scratches and his clothes were all dirty and slightly damped 

but the little boy meekly nodded and looked down on his game console, which Kenma noticed 

“I can get you a new one” he says in attempt to cheer up the little boy, he didn’t know what was pushing him to do so, but his heart broke at the sight of him broke his heart 

“mister Kodzuken, can you please get this fixed for me instead?” for the first time, the boy looked at him with sad eyes

how could he say no to that face? he took the game console and looked at the boy

“is there a reason why you want me to fix it?” he asks

“my mom worked hard to get me that on my birthday, she didn’t buy her favorite coffee, her favorite bread, she patched up her shoes instead of buying a new one, she even lied to me that she wasn’t hungry when we ate out, I don’t wanna make her sad” the boy sadly said and wore his bag

Kenma was in awe, no wonder this boy was so polite and respectful

“alright, how but I’ll call your mother now, she is needed in this situation” Kenma says as he takes out his phone

the boy slowly dictates his mom’s phone number, and when he was done, Kenma was speechless, the number was already registered as his secretary’s number

Kenma shakily presses the call button

“sir?” your voice from the other line, never seize to make his heart skip a beat

“Y/n do you happen to have a son?” his voice was still calm

“yes, how did you know sir? i have a son he’s name is Eiji, he’s eight” you happily told him

“well, I kinda caught some kids bullying him, I think that you’re needed here” he says calmly 

“oh no, my baby, i’ll be there ASAP sir, please do send the location”

“I’ll send the location to my driver, he’ll pick you up” Kenma says and hangs up as he send a quick messege and the location to his driver

Kenma was supposed to ask you out tomorrow, that was the reason why he didn’t go to the office today, he was going to surprise you at his place because he didn’t want you, the girl he liked to the horrible people of the internet

you were too pure, too kind, you always made sure to get him something to eat despite his resistance, made sure that he doesn’t overwork himself and even going to the extent where you do some of his workloads, of course he trusted you enough to do so and you’ve been working with him for four years now

but you had a child? did you have a husband? but you’re resume said that you were single? is it a boyfriend?

“you know mister Kodzuken, mama always talks about you when I ask her about her day, I think she’s got a little crush on you” Eiji smiled softly at him

which almost made the former setter melt into a puddle, the boy was adorable, and even if his original plan was to just date you, he was more than happy to have Eiji, having a mini you around made it all even better, he wasn’t fond of kids but the little boy infront of him was an exception

“I think, I can make that happen” he smiles softly

the day after you appeared looking distressed, talked to your son’s bullies and their parents at the school’s principal office with Kenma and Eiji seating beside you, you were now inside your boss’ house, he was asking you to be his girlfriend, your son happily jumping up and down beside him

how could you say no, when four years ago, you were only dreaming of this moment? 

[love-and-monsters]

Caged Fae: Halloween

M Fae X F reader, 6,041 words

Enjoy a Halloween festival with your roommate Fae, Yarrow. Have fun taking in the sights of the seasons. This story is a continuation of Caged Fae, which can be found here.

Delicately, you adjusted the mask so that it sat snugly on Yarrow’s face. “What do you think?”

Yarrow blinked out at you, his gaze as steady and unperturbed as ever. “Any opinions?” you pressed. “Yes? No?”

He reached up and delicately unhooked the mask from his face. Delicately, he folded the ribbon, tucked it into the mask, and handed the whole thing back to you. “Is that a no?” you said.

Yarrow smiled enigmatically. He got up and wandered back across the room to the small pile of gourds you had collected. You followed after him.

Come on. You have to give me some hint. I thought this would go well with your antlers,” you said. The mask was made of light wood and molded into the rough shape of a deer’s face. There were deep red and gold markings painted along the eyes and curves of the mask, giving it a striking look. “Don’t you want to go out without hiding your antlers?”

Yarrow turned his head and looked at you for a moment. It had been a few months since you’d rescued him, and he had tagged along with you to the market a few times after glamouring his antlers. His quiet, polite demeanor had earned him a few admirers, mostly the older women who treated him like a beloved nephew. “It’s All Hallow’s Eve,” you prompted gently. “It’s a party. Don’t you want to go out?”

Yarrow patted your hand for a moment, then went back to fiddling with the gourds. You sighed. Fae were mysterious creatures, and when Yarrow was in one of his moods, there was no getting through to him.

Instead, you picked up the mask and headed for the door. “I’ll be back in an hour or so,” you called over your shoulder. “Hold down the fort for me.”

There were hurried footsteps behind you. You turned to see Yarrow holding out your coat. He shook it at you, lifting an eyebrow.

“Oh. Thank you,” you said, slipping into it. Yarrow nodded, then retreated back to the pile of gourds. You slipped out the door and down the path to the town center.

There was a bite of cold to the air as you walked, and the trees had exploded into fiery color. The town was bustling- All Hallow’s Eve was in less than a week and everyone was trying to get the final festival details in order.

“How was the mask?” Mr. Demark asked as you stopped at his stall. His usual trade was carpentry, but around this time of year, he also sold beautiful wooden masks. His wife, who designed and painted most of them, perked up, waiting for your verdict.

You slid the mask across the stall’s table toward them. “Sorry. I don’t think this one is what he wants either.”

“That boy,” Mrs. Demark said, picking up the mask and examining it. “Not easily satisfied, is he?”

You’d taken four masks from the stand so far, an owl, a wolf, a bobcat, and finally the deer. Yarrow had tried each of them on with perfect patience, then taken them back off and handed them to you. “I’m sure he wants something specific,” you said. “I just don’t know what it is.”

“Any luck teaching him to write yet?” Mrs. Demark asked. You shook your head. You were pretty sure Yarrow could read as well as he could understand you, but every time he wrote anything, it was in an odd, swirly script that you couldn’t make sense of at all. You weren’t sure if he wasn’t writing because he refused to write in a human language for some reason or if he physically couldn’t, but the result was the same. It didn’t help that Yarrow never seemed terribly concerned with whether or not you understood him.

“I’d like him to dress up,” you said. “I do want him to be able to enjoy the festival. But he just doesn’t seem to like anything I give him.”

“Want to try another one?” Mr. Demark asked. You glanced over the few masks he still had. There weren’t many left; it was close enough to the holiday itself that most people had secured their costumes.

“I don’t know,” you said after a moment, shaking your head. “I don’t want to bring him back something he doesn’t want again.”

“Here.” Mrs. Demark rummaged in her pouch and passed you a few coins. “Your money back. Don’t want you to waste it on something you’re not going to use.”

You tucked the money away. “I’m sorry about Yarrow.” Mrs. Demark waved you off.

“Never mind. Perhaps he just doesn’t like costumes,” she said. You nodded and headed off into the rest of the market.

The more you turned the words over in your mind, the more likely they seemed. Yarrow had been held captive in a circus, after all, where odd costumes were the norm. Perhaps masks brought back bad memories. Your stomach tightened at the thought of it. Maybe it would be uncomfortable to be out at all and he was just trying to be polite and humor you.

You finished up your shopping and hurried home a little after the sun had set. Yarrow was standing outside when you got home, apparently unbothered by the cold, as he was wearing only his usual thin clothes. He straightened when he saw you approaching, looking at you intently.

“Hey,” you said as you walked up to him. “Everything okay?”

Yarrow tilted his head, considering you for a moment. “Sorry I’m late,” you said with a glance at the sky. “I know I said it’d only be an hour, but, you know. Things kind of got away from me. I got you something,” you added, hoping to get Yarrow to stop looking at you with a vaguely disapproving expression. Apparently, he wasn’t easily bribed, because the furrow in his brow just deepened.

You stepped into the house and pulled off your coat. There was already a fire in the stove and stepping into the glow helped drive away the chill that had sunk through your skin. “Here,” you said, passing one of the packages to Yarrow. He turned it over in his hands. “They’re spiced cookies. A specialty from a local bakery.”

He nibbled at one delicately as you unpacked everything else. Yarrow seemed to appreciate heavily spiced foods, you’d noticed, or ones with a strong scent. It had taken you an embarrassingly long time to realize that was because he couldn’t taste anything.

He ate slowly while you put all your things away. Occasionally, he would reach out and turn one of your purchases over in his hand, or run his fingers over a bolt of fabric. You’d purchased several items that were more frivolous than usual- you had more money to spend thanks to Yarrow and the end of fall also signaled the end of traveling merchants. It had been a bit fun to pick up some interesting items for the winter.

“I thought this might be nice for you,” you said, holding out a long bolt of fabric. It was soft, but weighty, and made of a deep forest green. Next to it, you held up a section of white fur. It had been fairly expensive, but you had been almost compelled to buy it. It looked regal, elegant, and it fit with Yarrow’s otherworldly air. He rolled it in his hands, examining the texture of the fur.

“What do you think?” you asked. “I know you don’t technically need a winter coat, but if we go out, it’ll look weird if you’re not wearing one, and I thought it would look nice.”

Yarrow stared down at the fabric, running his fingers over and over it. Finally, he lifted his head and gave you a smile. Relief lightened your chest. “Okay. Good.”

The nights were getting colder and colder. Yarrow seemed entirely unbothered by it, but you had started keeping the fire on at night and dragging out your heavier quilts. Still, it didn’t quite drive away the cold. You still woke up shivering and the quilt was cold when you got into it every night. Yarrow still slept mostly on the floor, rarely even bothering with a pillow.

You had no idea if that was something typical of Fae or if being trapped in a cage had given him odd notions of comfort.

It took a couple of days to pluck up the nerve to ask Yarrow about All Hallow’s Eve. Part of that was just you being uncertain how to approach the content. You didn’t want to accidentally upset him. He’d given no indication that he was traumatized by it, but he also hadn’t given any indication that he wasn’t. It was hard to tell when he didn’t talk and his expressions seemed generally aloof. Trying to pick a way to approach him that was neither too insensitive nor too timid was an awkward space to fit into.

The other problem with talking to Yarrow was that it had become rather difficult to find him.

Pulling a vanishing act in a house that only had three rooms was pretty impressive, but Yarrow managed. He moved soundlessly, aided by the face that he was pretty much always barefoot. Most of the time, you would look up only to find he had completely vanished from the room with no sign of where he’d gone.

If he wasn’t inside, he was usually in the garden. Yarrow never wandered all that far from you. He’d never moved all that far from the house if you were inside, despite not really having a reason to stay. You were grateful for his presence, nonetheless. He was surprisingly good company.

Finding him in the garden could still be a bit of a task, though. With his influence, the garden had grown enormously, with plants sprouting into enormous tangles of leaves and vines. It took time to search the whole thing, and it was really starting to get cold outside. You shivered under an icy wind as you picked your way through the garden. “Yarrow?” you called. “Yarrow, are you out here?”

Something to your left rustled and you turned to see Yarrow emerging from a thicket of berry bushes. They were still green, despite the frost creeping up, but you were pretty sure even Yarrow’s powers weren’t going to last forever. A few of the leaves had already given up and littered the ground beneath them. Yarrow brushed some leaves off his front and looked at you questioningly.

“Oh, here, let me-” You reached up and brushed a leaf from his hair. “There’s one in your antlers. Hold on…” Without thinking, you grabbed the antler and tugged his head down, pulling the offending leaf off from where it had been impaled. Yarrow complied with your tugging, showing not even the slightest hint of resistance as you tugged on his head. The realization of what you were doing struck you and you released him. “Oh. Er. Sorry.” Yarrow straightened back up and looked at you curiously. “Right. Um. Can we talk?”

Asking to talk with Yarrow was mostly just asking if it was okay for you to talk at him, but he nodded and headed back into the house. You followed him inside, hanging up the shawl you’d tossed on before heading outside. Admittedly, it had done very little against the chill.

Something heavy fell onto your shoulder. You looked up as Yarrow tucked a blanket around your shoulders and pushed you toward the fire. “Oh, I’m fine. You don’t need to-” Yarrow tugged your hands insistently. “Okay, okay. I’m sitting.”

You settled in front of the fire, readjusting the blanket so it was more secure on your shoulders. Yarrow sat across from you, the firelight flickering across his features. It cast sharp shadows on his face. “So, All Hallow’s Eve is in a couple of days.” Yarrow nodded. “I just, you know wanted to talk about it.” Yarrow tilted his head patiently, waiting for you to go on. “I just wanted to ask about… how you’re feeling about this? I mean, going out in costumes and everything. I know you were kept for a while in a place where they used costumes a lot, and you seemed uncomfortable when we were trying on all those masks. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That this wasn’t bringing back any bad memories.”

Yarrow stared at you. He tilted his head a little, blinking. “Yes? No?” you said. “It’s okay if you want to stay home. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

He looked at you for a moment longer, then his expression softened. His lips turned up in a small smile and his shoulders shook in a way you recognized- Yarrow was laughing. He reached out and patted your hand. His fingers were warm and strong.

“Is that a no?” you asked. “You’re okay with going out?”

Yarrow got to his feet and patted your head. The gesture was small, but full of so much affection that your throat constricted a little. He was rarely expressive with his feelings, so you were always startled when he was affectionate. Yarrow smiled serenely at you, then strolled back outside. You stared after him. Apparently, the conversation was over. You’d gotten the impression that he wasn’t bothered, at least. Maybe he just wasn’t a fan of masks. If he really didn’t want to go out, you supposed he would find a way to let you know.

You saw Yarrow less frequently in the few days leading up to All Hallow’s Eve. He showed up for mealtimes and sat with you then, but for the rest of the day, he was outside, doing who knew what. For all you knew, this was normal Fae behavior in fall. You kept an eye on him, but he seemed okay, so you didn’t worry too much about it.

The festival for All Hallow’s Eve started in the afternoon, so you spent the morning pulling together your costume. It wasn’t especially interesting- in fact, it was sort of a rehash of the outfit you’d put on the year before. Most costumes were focused on hiding identity rather than trying to actively look like something else. You’d picked up a simple rodent mask, something that looked equally like a squirrel and a mouse, and wore brown robes with a shabby fur ruff around your neck. It was simplistic, but you hadn’t really put that much effort into your costume that year- your initial plan had been to coordinate with Yarrow, and his disinterest had soured your own desire. In fact, the fur ruff was the only difference between this year and the last one. The mask and robe were the same.

You’d just finished gathering the requisite components and spreading them out when Yarrow abruptly reappeared. He didn’t come in from the outside or step out from another room; you just looked down for a moment and when you looked back up, he was standing there as if he’d been present all along. It had startled you the first few times he’d done it, but living with him, you’d gradually acclimated to it.

“What do you think?” you asked, gesturing to the outfit. “I don’t have anything for you, but you can at least keep your antlers out.”

Yarrow looked down at the costume for a moment, studying intently. He plucked at the fur ruff, then curled his lip. “No?” you asked. Yarrow shook his head and grabbed your hand. He tugged on your arm, pulling you along with him.

“Where are we going?” you asked. He pulled you outside and through the garden. It had wilted a lot in the past few days, dried branches sticking out into the path. Yarrow pulled you past them, into a thicket of bushes. They had grown into a sort of bramble wall, providing a secluded area. Carefully draped over the bushes were two beautiful outfits.

One of them was deep green, with heavy, elegant robes. A faint leaf pattern shimmered on it, only visible under direct sunlight. Little pink and yellow flowers sprouted along the hems. You weren’t sure, but you thought they might be alive. Placed on top of the robe was an elegantly carved mask. It was roughly in the shape of a deer, but there appeared to be real flowers sprouting over the surface in a way that colored and textured it. The entire thing looked ethereal.

“Did you make that?” you asked, your voice hushed with awe. Yarrow nodded. “It’s beautiful.”

Yarrow reached for the second outfit and picked up the second mask. It was done in a similar style, also resembling a deer, but it was a little smaller and rounder. The flowers set on it were pale yellow and orange, sprouting so that they created the illusion of shading. The outfit beneath the mask bore similar elegant robes, but these were made in a deep, burnt orange, with faint lines that looks like tree branches stretching out from the seams. A thick ruff of fur lay under them, a deep and rich brown. It was the softest thing you had ever felt.

Yarrow moved so you were facing him and tilted your chin up. Slowly and carefully, he reached out and placed the mask onto your face. There was no attaching string or hooks, but that didn’t seem to matter. It settled perfectly on your face, contoured to your features.

“You made this for me?” Your voice was quiet and there was a slight catch to it. Yarrow gave a small nod. “It’s beautiful.” Before you could think better of it, you reached out and pulled Yarrow into a hug. He stiffened, but only for a second. Then his arms came in around you and he gave a small squeeze back.

“We should, um, get changed,” you said as you broke away from him. You gathered up your outfit and hurried back to the house. Despite never having taken any measurements (at least, not that you’d ever seen), the outfit was perfectly sized. It was also surprisingly warm. Even without the fur ruff, you felt comfortable.

You’d just slid on the mask when Yarrow returned to the house. The outfit had looked beautiful just sitting on the ground; on Yarrow’s body, it was ethereal. With his face half-hidden by the mask, he looked inhuman, but beautifully so.

“Wow,” you said. “You look amazing.” Yarrow’s lips quirked into a small smile. He reached into his pocket and removed a small looking glass that he held up to you.

For a moment, you couldn’t recognize yourself. There must have been some Fae magic in the mask and clothes, because, under the mask, you could see your skin had taken on a slight glow. The mask looked almost alive on your face. You were almost surprised to see that it didn’t mold to your expressions.

“Thank you,” you said. Yarrow smiled broadly, then took your hand. With a firm insistence, he pulled you toward the door.

The chill barely touched you as you stepped out into the crisp autumn afternoon. The sun had already started to slip downward in the sky, threatening to set. Yarrow slowed his pace as you headed toward the festival, but his hand stayed around yours.

The festival was already in full swing when you arrived. There were banners and decorations draped along the streets and booths were set up all throughout the town. Many of them sold food or drink, some sold little trinkets to keep evil spirits away, and some were peddling some of their crafted items, styled specifically for the festival. There were also a few game booths, areas set up for storytelling, and a few contest stands. You peered at some of the woven bolts of fabric that sat in a contest booth. Yarrow gave you a questioning look.

“Oh, I didn’t want to enter because you helped me. It felt unfair to have Fae magic in it,” you said. Yarrow still looked confused. You had a feeling that an ethics conversation with a Fae wouldn’t go well. “Maybe next year,” you said noncommittally.

“Look at you!” Yarrow flinched as a hand clapped down on his shoulder. “Those are some nice costumes.” Mr. Demark was standing behind you, a broad grin on his face. “Where’d you get those masks? They sure aren’t some of mine.”

 “Yarrow made them,” you said.

“Did he now?” Mr. Demark leaned in close. You felt Yarrow’s back stiffen next to you. “It’s impressive. Wouldn’t consider coming to work for me, now would you? You’ve got some talent.”

Yarrow gave a polite smile and bowed slightly. “That a no, then?” Mr. Demark said. “Ah, well. Just don’t go selling them or I’ll be out of business.” He laughed loudly and strolled back off into the festival. Yarrow stared after him for a moment, then started examining the fabric again.

You walked around the festival together for a while. The food there was delectable, and you ended up buying more pumpkin bread than you could comfortably eat. Yarrow declined to eat anything, but he did end up buying some spiced cider. You’d never seen him drunk, and you kept a curious eye on him. After about two and a half mugs, though, he showed no signs of inebriation. Maybe human alcohol just wasn’t potent enough for a Fae. It was a bit disappointing. You’d wondered what he was like drunk.

The sun had set fully at that point, which meant that several campfires had been set up around the town. People sat in loose circles around them, sharing stories. You and Yarrow sat in on a few of them; Yarrow seemed particularly interested in the stories featuring Fae.

“So,” you said as you stepped away from one of the circles close to the edge of town, “any of that true?”

Yarrow shook his head, then paused, considering. He held two fingers a short distance apart. “Only a little bit?” you said. Yarrow nodded. “What bits were true?”

Yarrow thought for a moment, then gave a dramatic hair toss and struck a pose like he was modeling. You dissolved into giggles. “Do you- Do you mean the bit where he said all Fae are really beautiful?” Yarrow nodded furiously, grinning.

“So not the bit where you kidnap babies?” Yarrow shook his head. “Or the bit where you all dance naked in the moonlight to lure humans in?” Even behind his mask, you could see Yarrow’s eyes roll.

You had moved toward the edge of town as you spoke, standing right on the outskirts of the forest. “We should probably get back,” you said. “It’s not-”

Your voice trailed off. There were lights emerging from the gloom of the woods. They looked like overlarge fireflies, except they glowed faintly blue instead of yellow. They left glimmering trails behind them when they moved. It was soothing to watch them, almost hypnotic. You took a step toward them.

Yarrow pulled on your hand, hard. You hadn’t even felt him grab it. You stumbled backward, blinking hard. The hypnotic feeling faded to the back of your head, though you could feel it threatening to rise again. Little lights. Little lights in the forest that compelled people to follow them and then led them astray. “Will-O-the-Wisps,” you said. Yarrow nodded. “I’ve never seen them before.”

Yarrow stepped forward, waving his hand toward the wisps. The coalesced, swarming densely for a moment. Then they vanished back into the forest as suddenly as they’d arrived. You let out a breath. Yarrow stared after them for a moment, then pulled your hand fiercely, pulling you back toward town until you were standing in the warm glow of a fire.

“Are those things common around here?” you asked, just barely keeping a wobble from your voice. “I’ve never seen them.”

Yarrow thought for a moment, then positioned himself so he was standing across from you. Carefully, he drew a line between you in the dirt. “A barrier between us?” you asked. Yarrow made a broad gesture. “Between our worlds?” Yarrow nodded. He gestured at the sky, then at the town around you and scuffed the line away with his foot. “The holiday… makes the barrier vanish?”

Yarrow nodded. A chill crept up your spine. “The veil gets thin. I’ve heard that before,” you said. “Is it dangerous?”

Yarrow shook his head. He clasped your hands in his and you felt a tingle of magic jump through you. His eyes gleamed with inhuman power for a moment. “It makes you stronger too,” you said. Yarrow nodded. He squeezed your hands again. “And you’ll protect me.” Another nod. “Thank you.”

Satisfied with the conversation, Yarrow turned away and began wandering back into town. The festivities were wrapping up in some areas and ramping up in others. Most of the families with children had departed, meaning that certain areas were turning toward debauchery. The stories told were less appropriate for young ears and a few people had stripped, despite the chill. Yarrow looked at them with some interest, but, thankfully, seemed uninterested in joining them.

Several of the fires had gone out and a fire toward the center had been stoked into an enormous blaze. People danced around it while musicians played close to its base. Laughs and whoops of excitement carried across the town.

Yarrow paused and stared across the way at a smaller fire. There were several couples gathered around it. One by one, they stepped forward and held out their clasped hands to a man. He wrapped their hands in a ribbon and murmured words over them, sprinkling a few drops of water from a nearby basin. The couple held their hand over the fire for a moment, just high enough to not get burned, then stepped back with murmurs and bows of thanks.

“That’s a couple ceremony,” you explained. “It’s usually for new couples, for over the winter. There’s an old legend behind it.” Yarrow looked at you curiously. “You want to hear it?” A nod. “Uh, okay.” You sat down on a log next to a fire that was only faintly glowing embers. Yarrow sat with you. He was close enough that your knees were touching.

“Um, I heard this story a long time ago, so it’s not going to be super detailed, but I remember most of it,” you said. “The story goes that there was a couple who lived in a cabin a bit of a ways out of town. They lived far enough away that when the winter snows came, they were unable to get into town.” Your voice dropped into the sort of hushed tones used by storytellers. Yarrow’s eyes were fixed on you face, like he was enraptured. “The couple didn’t think anything of it. They had enough food to outlast the snow, and they had each other, and they thought that would be enough.

“But after a few weeks, with the snow still coming down, an evil spirit was carried in on the cold, northern wind. The spirit lurked in the corners of their home, out of the way of their glowing fires. And slowly, the spirit’s evil intentions crept into the couple.

“Gradually, the couple grew harsher and harsher with each other. They spent much of their time fighting or ignoring each other. And the longer they ignored each other, and the more they fought, the stronger the spirit grew. Soon, the couple was unable to think of anything but their seething hatred for the other. The woman took to sleeping on the floor, in the light of the fire.

“But the fire could not last forever, and the couple was so consumed with their arguing, they ignored the sputtering flames. And the, one night, while the woman slept in its glow, the fire sputtered, leaving her in darkness.

“And the spirit struck.

“Months later, when the snows finally melted, a few people from the town went out to see how the couple was doing. The found the man lying in his bed, his throat slit. Even though it was warm enough to melt the snow, the man was still frozen solid. His wife was never seen again.”

Yarrow had leaned in while you were telling the story. His face was quite close to yours. You leaned back and cleared your throat. “Um. So, that’s the story. The ceremony they’re doing is supposed to drive away evil spirits. It protects you.” Yarrow nodded slowly. His face was expressionless beneath the mask. “So, what do you think? Believe it’s true?”

Yarrow rolled his eyes under the mask and stood up. He offered you a hand, which you took and he tugged you to your feet. He waited a moment for your to straighten your robes, then began pulling you toward the ceremony.

“Woah, hey, hold on.” You tried to dig your feet into the ground, but Yarrow was supernaturally strong. “Are you- you want to participate in the ceremony?” you asked, a little bewildered. Yarrow nodded. “But it’s… for couples. You want to do it with me?”

Yarrow gave you a look and tugged on your hand again. “Okay, okay,” you said. He seemed oddly insistent on it. Maybe he knew something about evil spirits you didn’t? Regardless, it didn’t look like he was just going to give it up anytime soon. You relented and allowed him to pull you over to the ceremony.

Most of the couples had already been blessed, so there wasn’t a long wait before you were called up. The man was wearing a long red and purple robe and he was slightly stooped over with age. He smiled at you as you approached. “Haven’t seen you before,” he said conversationally. “New couple?”

You sputtered a little, but Yarrow just dipped his head and smiled. The man smiled back at you. “Wonderful. Now, I’ll need you to take the masks off for the ceremony.”

You carefully undid your mask and glanced at Yarrow as he did the same. The light of the fire against his skin made something in your chest catch. Your heart fluttered violently against your ribs. With a swallow, you turned back to the man.

“Now, clasp your hands and hold them out.” Yarrow linked your fingers and held your hand you. You felt overly aware of the touch of his fingers on yours.

The man reached out with a length of white ribbon. “This represents your love for each other. It binds you together and holds you fast.” He wrapped it around your hands, tying a loose knot near your thumbs. “The water represents the storms your relationship will weather.” He sprinkled it over your hands. The ribbon shivered a little, but remained wrapped securely around your hands. “The strength of your love will carry you through the tough times. Remember your love, and no spirit can stay your course.” He folded his hands around yours, pressing them together. “I bless you against all evil spirits, I bless you against the forces of hate in this world. This blessing will help to shield you, but only the strength of your care for each other will allow you to weather all the storms.” His hands unfolded from yours and he gave you a smile. Gently, he guided your hands over the fire, just high enough to avoid burning. “With this fire, I drive away the spirits of the cold and dark and hatred. May it burn bright enough to keep you warm throughout the long season.”

With a smooth pull, he freed your hands from the ribbon. It untied in a moment, pulled back into the curve of his fist. Yarrow held onto your hand for a moment longer before slowly untangling your fingers. He gave a small bow to the man and swept away. You murmured a quick thanks, then hurried after him.

He paused, letting you catch up. “You okay?” you asked. Yarrow nodded. He fiddled with the mask in his hands, like he was uncertain if he wanted to put it back on. Without really thinking about it, you linked your arm through his. “Want to go home?”

Yarrow turned his head slightly toward you and smiled. You started down the trail toward your home, arms still linked.

You walked in silence for a little while. “Did you have a good time?” you asked finally. Yarrow blinked at you, like you’d startled him out of thought, then he nodded. He pressed into you for a moment, bumping your sides together. It was warm and affectionate.

“Good. I had a good time too,” you said. You tilted your head back, looking at the mostly full moon. It played off of Yarrow’s hair and antlers, making them almost glow. You had a sudden urge to reach up and stroke his hair, smoothing down the few flyaways. You barely managed to restrain yourself.

You stopped just outside your house, scooping up a few more pieces of firewood to bring inside. Yarrow opened the door, ducking slightly to avoid his antlers scraping on the frame. You carried the wood over the fire and stoked it. The house was still cold, but the costume kept much of it away.

“So,” you said, trying to find something to say, “do you think the ceremony worked?” Yarrow’s face was practically obscured by the shadows, only half-illuminated by moonlight. He looked a little confused. “Uh, for keeping away evil spirits? The hand holding thing?” Yarrow snorted gave you a sarcastic smile. “You don’t think so?”

Yarrow sighed and rolled his eyes. He tapped his chest and pressed a hand to the center of your chest. It took you’re a moment to grasp the meaning. “We don’t need it because you protect me anyway?” you translated. Yarrow smiled and nodded. “Then why were you so insistent on doing the ceremony if it wasn’t going to-”

Yarrow rolled his eyes and pressed his hands to your face. You stumbled to a stop. His thumbs traced your cheekbones for a moment. A shiver crept along your spine. His bright, gleaming eyes were locked on yours. Slowly, one of his hands slipped down to cup your chin. His thumb traced along your lower lip. He was so close, so close you could feel his breath tickling against your face. Warmth was flooding your body and you could feel yourself shaking.

His lips pressed against yours. His lips were warm, and so soft, and they molded to yours. Your hands jumped up to the back of his head, tangling in his hair. His mouth opened against yours, your tongue tracing his lower lip for a moment.

After what was either a few moments, or a long, wonderful eternity, you broke apart. You swallowed hard. “You wanted to do it because you love me?”

A smile curved across Yarrow’s mouth. He nodded once.

“Oh.” You felt your heart flutter, your stomach tighten. “I love you too.”

Yarrow helped you stoke the fire and eased you out of your costume. He allowed you to help with his as well. You found yourself tracing your fingers along his smooth skin. He even allowed you to brush out his hair, sitting quiet and contemplative as you smoothed the brush over his head again and again.

Your bed was cold, as usual when you slipped inside. You shivered, tugging the blankets around you. “Ugh.”

There was the sound of movement from across the room. You looked over to see Yarrow standing in the doorway, thin nightclothes draped over his slender body. He swept across the room to your bed.

“Hey,” you said. “Need something?”

Yarrow lifted up the covers and, before you could really process what he was doing, he was snuggled next to you. He was warm, radiating heat like a furnace. You moved closer to him automatically. His legs tangled with yours and you felt his hands settle around you. He made a quiet noise of contentment in his chest.

Finally warm and overwhelmingly content, you buried your face into his chest and hugged him. One of his hands trailed slowly up and down your back, soothing you into sleep.

[uniasus]

Wanted to pop by and tell you how much I enjoyed your fic! If you don't mind answering, I wondered what Allison's POV during the universe reset was like. How did she learn that the universe was reset again? Did she already notice things were different after it happened or did she have to be told of it? What was her reaction/thoughts about it?

I've been dreading this question, because I really have to figure it out.

And you know how I figure things out? I write them.

So here, have something I wrote for you tonight just to answer this ask.

Read Prove Me Worse on Ao3 (1.2K) or below.

-----

Allison goes to bed, snuggled in warm with Ray's legs tangled with hers. From outside creeps in the glow of the lights that line their driveway, a warm yellow and not intrusive, but soft and familiar. When she wakes, the glow is replaced with that of the sun, just peeking over the wall of the property.

She turns toward Ray, who even in his sleep pulls her closer. She kisses his cheek and tells herself five more minutes. She sighs, content with her life. Loving husband, adorable daughter. Successful career. It's a dream.

Eventually, she extracts herself from her husband. She has to go to the studio today, and driving into the city in the morning always takes forever in LA traffic.

She pads into Claire's room, she's already up and brushing her teeth, before heading down to the kitchen. Maria is already there, starting the coffee and Allison nods her thanks at the maid.

More evidence of her dream life, the money to have her own private staff. One maid, one chef who makes dinner nightly, two private drivers, and a small security staff. Oh, and the pool boy. He comes once a week.

She looks out the back window to the pool and remembers wading into a different one desperately reaching for Klaus.

Allison turns away and begs the coffee machine to hurry up.

She hasn't talked to her brothers in a year. Klaus had called her once, shortly after Reginald created this universe. He'd left a message on her voicemail, broken-hearted. "I hope it's worth it, Allison. Because you sacrificed a lot of us."

She's called him back, but no response.

Thing is, at the end of the day, sometimes she wonders if it was worth it. Once, she'd traded Ray for Claire. And now, she traded her brothers for her nuclear family. Did she wish it hadn't come at the expense of Luther? Yes. Did she wish Reginald had let her keep her powers? Yes.

Would she have made the same deal?

She doesn't know.

But, she thinks, she would have spared Harlan. She'll admit to being a bitch that night.

When she steps out of the car at the studio, the flashes of paparazzi cameras are bright. The blue-white of headlights, the activation of Viktor's powers. 

"Allison! Allison!" they shout, and it's so familiar she doesn't notice anything different about the morning. She flips her hair, gives a wave, and steps into the studio.

It's only once she's inside that she notices the familiar logo of Hargreeves Media is gone.

She's walked into a place called Veda Films.

Allison stops dead in the hallway and the assistant leading her turns.

"Did you need something?" she asks in a trembling voice. "Water? Coffee? We have some in the reading room."

"Rum," Allison says.

The assistant nibbles her lip. "I can ask-"

"No, no, don't worry about it. I was kidding." Allison flashes the girl a smile and continues on.

Veda Films Allison thinks.

She wants to pull out her phone to look something up, but there are other things about the world that are off as she and the rest of the cast of her new movie do a reading of the script. No one wears clothing with a stylized H. None of the businesses or brands in the script are a variant of Hargreeves.  

A quick google during a break confirms it. The Umbrella Academy exists. Viktor's book exists. They're back in 2019. Her 2019.

But Ray was here when she woke up. Her house is the same. Her career. Her staff.

It hits her. Her brothers went on a mission without her. Never even called. They took on Dad, and the Guardians, again. They've reset the universe. And they've done what she thought was impossible. They didn't make a trade. They made things better.

There are no articles about Ben's death.

She cries in the car back home. Thinks about that number she has saved for Klaus. Would he answer, this time? Can she have her brothers back?

Ray meets her at the door when she gets home. He's nervous, slightly scared, and Allison is instantly on alert.

"What is it?" she asks, trying to peer around her husband into the home.

"A man arrived today. He says he's your brother. But I don't recognize him."

"Which one?"

"Five."

She starts. Not the brother she expected.

"He's in the front room."

She kisses Ray's cheek in thanks, then walks in to greet her brother. She stops in the doorway.

There's a man in the room, not a teen, and his back is tense as he stares out the window. He shifts from foot to foot, antsy, eager to move, to do something, and when he turns to pace Allison gets a look at his face.

It could be Five. But it's the way he says her name that cements it.

"Allison." Cold. Frank. This is not a reunion call.

She gives him a quick once over. Last time Allison saw him, he was in a thirteen-year-old body and missing an arm. She knew he was alive, it'd been part of her deal with Reginald, but the person before her is a whole adult. Two arms. The beginning of wrinkles. A noticeable jaw line.

"Five," she breathes. "You look, you look good."

He scoffs, and again Allison thinks about how this time, without her, they made things better.

"I'm not here to catch up, Allison. You did a lot of shitty things. But I figured you noticed things were a little different this morning."

"You reset the universe."

He raises an eyebrow, impressed she's put that together. It's a little insulting he didn't think she could.

"Yes. We decided you get to keep your life. It's obviously important to you."

She swallows. Because it strikes her at that moment they didn't have to. If they reset the universe to 2019, they could haven't taken Ray. But they didn't.

"We got our own. We plan to live them. Made it so Ben didn't die. Nor Sloane. Dave. Harlan."

Allison flinches. "Luther?" she whispers.

Five cocks his head at her. "Respawned in Dad's universe. So he's been alive for the past year."

Oh. She…she hadn't known that. Relief floods through her as Five continues.

"Dad's dead. Thought you should know that. Also, Luther didn't go to the moon in this timeline, so don't mention anything about that to the press. Not that you've talked much about us to them the past year. You did pretty well distancing yourself from us."

"That can change."

Five snorts. That's a no from him, but Allison still has Klaus's number. Ben shouldn't hate her, right? She should apologize to Luther as well.

Five looks out the window again, and Allison places the frantic energy he's radiating. Her siblings might have reset the universe, but there's a snag. A problem that needs fixing.

"What is it?" she asks.

Five's mouth is a thin line, but from behind his teeth, he says. "Viktor hasn't checked in."

There's unexpected sorrow in the statement, and Allison thinks maybe there was a trade after all. A sacrifice, even.

"Enjoy the life he let you keep, Allison." Five blinks away.

She can't bring herself to call Klaus.  

[felassan]

Dragon Age Library Edition Volume 1 annotations & additional pages/art compilation

Dragon Age Library Edition Volume 1 is a hardcover collection of some pre-existing Dragon Age comics that was released in 2014. It comprises of all issues of The Silent Grove, Those Who Speak and Until We Sleep. In places, it includes additional annotations/commentaries by the illustrators and authors, as well as a few additional pages with additional art. iirc these additional annotations and pages/art aren’t featured or available anywhere else (in the franchise I mean; other people have probably put them online at some point I’m sure).

From what I can see at least, Library Edition Volume 1 is no longer in print, and as such listings for it on resale sites etc are.. price-inflated & prohibitively expensive (~£100+, which I’m sure we can all agree is just not reasonable or accessible to most people). Due to this, I’ve compiled the additional annotations and pages here in this post. Thank you and credit to @artevalentinapaz, who kindly shared the material with me. This post has been made with their permission. The rest of this post is under a cut due to length.

These commentaries are in the context of The Silent Grove, Those Who Speak and Until We Sleep. If you notice any errors or annotations missing, or need anything clarified, just let me know. I think the annotations are in chronological order. In places I elaborated in square brackets to help explain which part of the comics an annotation is referring to. A note before you proceed further: some of the topics referenced in the annotations/additional pages are heavy or uncomfortable. The quotes here are word-for-word transcriptions of dev/creator commentaries, not my personal opinions or phrasings.

(Also, I do recommend always supporting comic creators by purchasing their comics legitimately. I own each issue of these comics having bought other editions of them all legitimately. The reason I put this post together is because this specific Library Edition volume has been discontinued and the consequently-inflated cost is so high, rendering the additional material inaccessible to most.)

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The Silent Grove annotations

Illustrator Chad Hardin: “I used to be an environmental artist for video games, so I built a 3-D model of Antiva City using the program Silo. Many of the buildings are simple cubes, but a few are more detailed. Overall, I spent the better part of a day building it, but I used it again and again throughout The Silent Grove to maintain continuity in the backgrounds.”

Script Writer Alexander Freed: “Even working with David Gaider, it took me several drafts to find Alistair’s voice. His narrative had to convey his humor and self-doubt from Dragon Age: Origins while suggesting a newfound weariness earned during his years on the throne. For readers familiar with the character, he needed to seem like a changed Alistair - but Alistair nonetheless.”

Chad Hardin: “If you read a lot of comics, you might wonder why the majority of the heroes wear skin-tight suits. Well, I can tell you: they are easy and quick to draw. In video games, you build the model once and then animate it, so details don’t slow you down. In comics, everything has to be rendered by hand. Varric and Alistair’s outfits were quite detailed. It took me a long time to get used to them, and even longer to memorize the designs until drawing them was second nature - Varric’s knee armor in particular! Oy vey!”

David Gaider: “One of my favorite scenes in the entire series [when Varric and Isabela are disarming traps and picking locks together while Alistair looks on]. Isabela and Varric, doing what rogues do. I had a suggestion for how to put it together, but Alex managed to make it fit and did a great job with it.”

Chad Hardin: “I never used to keep any of the artwork I created for comics. I would just hand the pages over to my agent to sell. This page [when Alistair, Varric and Isabela are in a tavern together, with hookah in the foreground] I kept for myself. I love the hookah-smoking elves in the second panel and Isabela’s face in the last panel. I rendered the first four chapters of The Silent Grove in grayscale using ink washes, gouache and Copie markers.”

David Gaider: “For a little while, Varric [in these comic stories] was supposed to be Zevran from Dragon Age: Origins, which would have made sense, Zevran being Antivan and all. I know that some fans would have loved to see him, but the dynamics of the group just didn’t work as well. Then a planned cameo later had to be cut for space. Ah well, Zev, another time.”

Alexander Freed: “Isabela at her most dangerous [climbing up the side of the cliff]. This scene - featuring a scantily clad, dripping-wet woman who tends to flaunt her sexuality - could easily have come across as exploitative, but Chad did a lovely drop portraying Isabela as purely focused and deadly.”

Chad Hardin: “Isabela rising out of the water and scaling the cliff with the knife in her mouth is one of my favorite parts of The Silent Grove. It is one of those moments where the writing really inspired the art. Hats off to Alex and David. This is another page I kept for myself.”

Colorist Michael Atiyeh: “This is one of my favorite Dragon Age pages. Chad is such an amazing artist; I feel very fortunate to have had the opportunity to work with him.”

Chad Hardin: “I love that this page [when a guard spots Varric and shouts ‘Intruder!’] made it in uncensored. So many times in comics, I draw something and some stuffy lawyers come out of the woodwork and tell me to tone it down. Dark Horse and BioWare always let me have fun, and this turned out to be one of my favorite pages with Varric and Bianca. Any guesses to which word he is mouthing in the second panel?”

Alexander Freed: “Note the simple decency of Alistair as he gives his cloak, without comment, to Isabela. For all his flaws, he’s genuinely kind at heart - a rare enough trait in Isabela’s world that I think it’s much of what she values in him.”

Chad Hardin: “I love the opening panel to this chapter [the opening panels to Chapter 3, when the team are on a ship at sea]. It’s the image I use on the homepage of my website. This page was a gift to my cousin Wendy, who loves pirates. Seascapes with sailing ships might be clichéd in fine art, but for me it was a first.”

David Gaider: “I wanted to have this story center on the group travelling to a Witch of the Wilds other than Flemeth, and originally I had set it somewhere else - until I remembered a Codex entry from Dragon: Age Origins that offhandedly mentioned a witch in the Tellari Swamps. Brilliant! It’d look like I planned it all along. I didn’t.”

Michael Atiyeh: “I love opportunities where I can show a change in the time of day as you move from panel to panel [when the ship heads towards and the team arrive in the Tellari Swamps]. I feel the palette of each panel is very distinct and beautiful.”

Alexander Freed: “Why did Alistair choose two people he barely knows to be his companions on this quest? We never make this explicit, but of course Varric is on the right track. Alistair wants to surround himself with people who don’t know him and won’t judge him, yet it’s Alistair’s idealism that Isabela and Varric work to preserve.”

Chad Hardin: “Another page where the writing inspired the art [when the group suddenly encounter a dragon]. I love the dragon bursting onto the scene and Isabela’s stare. Some writers will try to cram six or seven panels on a page like this and the pacing just doesn’t allow the artist to give each moment the right punch. Can you imagine if the first panel was crammed into a single square inch?”

Chad Hardin: “Yavana was one of the only characters that we did no preliminary sketches for. I don’t know how that happened, but thankfully it worked out.”

David Gaider: “I love how Yavana looks like a cross between Flemeth and Morrigan. Flemmigan? She’s totally Chad’s design, and it’s great. Typical for these witches, she never says things straight. In my mind, this Alistair is the one who did the Dark Ritual in Dragon Age: Origins - and I was half-tempted to have him lose his cool in this first scene [opening panels of Chapter 4] with her. Too early, though.”

Alexander Freed: “Through this whole sequence [the page when Varric aims Bianca at Yavana], Yavana is dropping cryptic hints and Alistair is refusing to play along. He’s met Flemeth and Morrigan - he knows Yavana won’t give him a straight answer, and he won’t give her the satisfaction of asking needlessly.”

Michael Atiyeh: “Sometimes it’s the little things on a page that spark my interest. Here [when the team navigate vines and mud to get to the temple], the sunset panel came out great and the mud looks really thick and gooey. It’s fun to focus on these details and make them stand out.”

Chad Hardin: “I hated drawing this scene [when Isabela gets kicked] where Isabela gets the boot to the face. Call me old fashioned, but I was raised to believe that only a coward would ever hit a woman (even a battle-hardened pirate adventurer). I draw at home, and my girls often watch me work in my studio. This was a page I didn’t want them watching me draw. I do like, though, that Isabela gets up, yanks the arrow out, and then soldiers on (and later extracts brutal revenge).”

Michael Atiyeh: “Poor Isabela. It seems I gave her more bruises and black eyes than any of the other characters. [when Isabela is yanking the arrow out]”

Chad Hardin: “It’s always interesting to go back and look at artwork because it reminds me of what was going on in my life at the time. I inked this page [opening panels of Chapter 5] at a ‘draw night’ session at an anime convention in St. George, Utah. I was one of the special guests, but I missed the first day because I was at my grandfather’s funeral in Las Vegas, Nevada. Seeing this page brought back those memories.”

David Gaider: “‘Bianca says hello.’ [quoting the panels being referenced] I adore Varric. I was tempted to have him narrate the entire series [in reference to these three comics], but then again I liked the idea of having each series center on one of the trio’s viewpoints. This book belongs to Alistair, but that doesn’t stop Varric from getting all the best lines.”

Alexander Freed: “Claudio, of course, is not a terribly sympathetic figure. But I wanted to emphasize that he takes this fight as personally as Isabela - he sincerely loved Luis and blames Isabela for the man’s death. I think it’s important to give every character, even the most loathsome, some dignity. [when Isabela and Claudio are fighting]”

Chad Hardin: “Payback! Here is where Isabela extracts her revenge on Claudio [when Isabela stabs Claudio]. I never enjoyed killing off a character so much. I particularly enjoyed putting the look of shock in his eyes. He had it coming. There is something satisfying about killing a ‘made man’.”

Chad Hardin: “Every now and then when drawing comics, I wish I could animate some panels and watch them as a cartoon. It would be great to see this sequence [when Yavana catches Claudio’s soul] in full motion as Yavana snatches Claudio’s soul, makes it reenter his corpse and then extracts information from him until he bursts into flame. It was a very Hellboy-ish moment. I enjoyed the movie that played in my mind while drawing this scene. Hope everyone liked the result.”

Chad Hardin: “As I mentioned on page 17, I rendered the first four chapters in grayscale, which made the black-and-white art look great, but had a neutralizing effect when it came to colors. By the time I drew chapter 4, I had seen the effect it was having and decided to stop using the grayscale so the colors would pop. When I saw this page [when Alistair says to Yavana ‘And we helped you find it’] in print, it confirmed to me that I made the right decision. I honestly feel this art was the best of The Silent Grove.”

Chad Hardin: “I practically painted these pages [when Yavana says ‘It is permitted. Tonight and only tonight’] in thumbnails hoping it would help me choose how to render them in ink. It is so hard trying to figure out how to get a full range of value out of just black and white. There are some artists and inkers that make this look easy. Mark Schultz comes to mind. Michael saved my bacon. Colorists really do so much work when it comes to rendering; this page came out awesome because of him.”

David Gaider: “Here we reveal the existence of Great Dragons (as opposed to High Dragons), and also that Yavana was the source of the return of dragons to Thedas after their departure for so many centuries. But why? There’s the rub, and not even Alistair can trust that she’s telling him the truth.”

David Gaider: “Here’s the controversial scene [Alistair killing Yavana]. I think some fans don’t like that Alistair did this, and have said they consider it out of character. I don’t. From his perspective, Flemeth and her daughters have been toying with the world for reasons that can’t be trusted. They dragged Maric away from his family, from him. One might think his judgement foolish, but considering what Alistair was capable of deciding even back in Dragon Age: Origins, it’s certainly not out of character.”

Chad Hardin: “[same scene as above] This was a controversial page, and there were a lot of people who thought it was out of character for Alistair to kill Yavana (I didn’t see it coming - I mean, you just don’t kill a Witch of the Wild), but here is the thing: this page is Alistair acting as a king. Yavana has been manipulating him, trying to play him like a pawn, and he just can’t allow that. There’s too much at stake, for himself and for his subjects.”

Alexander Freed: “The end? An end, at least [the trio walking off into the distance]. The series needed a note of closure while leading into Those Who Speak (which wouldn’t arrive until many months later). David tweaked the ending in the outline several times, and I did my best to balance resolving Alistair’s emotional journey without resolving the quest. It’s not as clean as I’d have liked, but fortunately, now it’s all in one volume...”

Those Who Speak annotations

Alexander Freed: “Capturing Isabela’s narrative voice was much easier for me than capturing Alistair’s - partly because I’d already written The Silent Grove, and partly because of my own writing proclivities. Rereading now, I wonder if I laid on the (mild) profanity a bit too thick. I’ll leave you to judge.”

David Gaider: “I like the additional detail Alex and Chad put in, letting us see more of Qarinus and more of Isabela’s crew. Alex wanted to give her crew more of a presence, and let her first mate have some face time, so they weren’t just parts of the scenery. Good call on his part.”

David Gaider: “I’m really fond of the formal getups Chad made for the party. Isabela’s actually comes from a concept we didn’t use from the cancelled Dragon Age 2 expansion, if I remember right. And Maevaris came from me asking for ‘someone who looks like Mae West’ - with the wonderful outfit all Chad’s doing.

Chad Hardin: “Maevaris. I love Mae. When David and Dragon Age art director Matthew Goldman spoke to me about designing Mae, they wanted her to be fully female with the exception of her biology. They told me to think ‘Mae West’. Well, when I think of Mae West, I think of her... womanly shape. So, drawing Maevaris was always walking a fine line between portraying Mae’s identity and her biology. The process endeared her to me.”

Michael Atiyeh: “Just like in The Silent Grove, we are introduced to another gentleman from Isabela’s past [when the team meet Lord Devon and Isabela threatens him]. As was the case with Claudio, he will meet his fate at her hands.”

Chad Hardin: “When I was drawing Titus, my kids asked me why I was drawing ‘angry Jesus’ or ‘evil Jesus’. I can’t remember which term they used exactly, but it made me chuckle. I was going for a mix of Rapustin and Joe Stalin, but ‘evil Jesus’ would do.”

David Gaider: “I’m not sure it’s apparent here [when Alistair says ‘I’d really rather not’], but Alistair was supposed to be using one of his Templar powers on Titus (that’s why Titus recognizes what he is on the next page) and disrupting his magic.”

Alexander Freed: “Isabela is witty and charming enough that it can be easy to forget that she’s not, in fact, a nice person. Even after finishing the outline, David was concerned about making her too unsympathetic - but I loved his approach in this series. The dark deeds Isabela commits - this murder included [Isabela killing Lord Devon] - are what make her guilt tangible and no easy matter to overcome.”

Alexander Freed: “I thought the notions of Isabela’s pride in her captaincy and dedication to her crew were some of the most interesting aspects of her character in David’s story. In scenes here [when Isabela is on her ship saying ‘Keep them focused and keep them sober’] and elsewhere, I did my best to emphasize their place at the core of Isabela’s world.”

Chad Hardin: “Most of the time I draw from imagination, but because of the complexity of this page [Qunari trying to board Isabela’s ship] I decided it would work better if I had photo reference. On this page are my nephews Jared (Varric) and Adam, my niece Melissa, my kids Erica, Tasey Michaela (Isabela) and Chad (Alistair), my friend’s daughter Amy, my wife Joy, and the neighborhood kids as Isabela’s pirate crew. (The crew member mooning the Qunari is out of my ol’ noodle.) I paid their modelling fee in pizza and root beer. Also, I had originally drawn cannons on Isabela’s ship, so if there are parts of it that look slightly wonky, chances are there was a cannon there.”

David Gaider: “Ever since the BioWare artists finally did a concept for female Qunari, I’ve been itching to include one in the game. It’s always slipped through my fingers, so I was going to be damned if I’d have a Qunari plot in a comic - without the same technical limitations - and not have one present.

Chad Hardin: “I had no idea this was the first time anyone outside of BioWare had seen a female Qunari.”

Michael Atiyeh: “I really like the lighting in this sequence [Isabela in her cell thinking ‘I haven’t eaten in days’], especially the strong white light and the characters in shadow.”

David Gaider: “The entire sequence of Rasaan interrogating Isabela was something I plotted out in detail when this series began. Here they discuss names - something treated in a manner peculiar to the Qunari, considering how much importance they apply to what things are called (and not called), because it forms the core of their identity. Isabela brushes it off, but as we find out later it’s also at the core of her identity. I liked that parallel.”

Alexander Freed: “To balance out the relatively static talking pages elsewhere in the issue, I hoped to make the interrogation and flashback sequences beautiful and full of information. I proposed an approach to Chad, and he wisely reshaped it into what you see here [the page with the scene where Isabela says ‘I’ve made a lot of stupid mistakes’]. Anything that succeeds on these pages should be credited to him; anything that fails is my fault.”

Chad Hardin: “Probably the most challenging spread I have ever done. My friend Stacie Pitt was the model for Isabela on this page, and my wife Joy was Rasaan. I saved these pages [around the scene when Rasaan says ‘Mistakes can be corrected’] for myself.”

David Gaider: “Sten from Dragon Age: Origins becoming the new Arishok of the Qunari was something we'd planned even during Dragon Age 2. This was a great opportunity to show that, and also to show that Sten didn’t acquire horns even despite the makeover the Qunari received in DA2. Hornless Qunari are considered special, and Sten is no exception.”

Michael Atiyeh: “I think that David, Alex and Chad handled Isabela’s flashback [to when she was sold by her mother] in an interesting way, and it created a nice flow to the story.”

David Gaider: “This was a controversial scene [what happened to the slaves Isabela was transporting], the end result of a lot of discussions between me and Isabela’s original writer on the team, and it went through a lot of revisions over that time. It needed to fit with the story Isabela told the player in DA2, but fill in the blanks of what she didn’t tell. We didn’t want Isabela to be someone who became who she is because she was ‘broken’ but instead as a result of her own actions - yet also not be completely beyond redemption.”

Chad Hardin: “These were hard pages [as above] to draw. It was difficult knowing that events such as this are part of human history, such as the Zong massacre in 1781, where the British courts ordered the insurers to reimburse the crew of the Zong for financial losses caused by throwing slaves overboard when faced with a lack of water. Horrifying beyond words.”

Michael Atiyeh: “Here, Isabela visits here crew, and I wanted to play up that she was in the light and they were in a dark cell. The light streaming through the bars gave me the opportunity to highlight Brand, who also had dialogue in the scene.”

Alexander Freed: “I struggled to find a way for Varric to contribute to victory without distracting from Alistair and Sten’s big fight. I’m happy with the solution: a brazen lie seemed appropriate to the character without taking away from the main show.”

David Gaider: “I believe my original plan had Isabela’s and Alistair’s fight scenes happening separately, but I like how Alex intertwined them in the script and I especially like how this ends up highlighting the differences between their characters when their fights are resolved. Isabela is defiant, revealing her name not because Rasaan demands it but because it’s her choice. In both cases, mercy is strength.”

Michael Atiyeh: “The brush I created for the clouds really gave them a nice watercolor effect here [on the deck of the ship, Sten calling Alistair ‘kadan’]. That brush has become a staple in my toolbox.”

Alexander Freed: “With the strong theme of names running through these issues, I liked the notion that Isabela had outgrown being, well, ‘Isabela’. When her name comes up in Until We Sleep, it’s largely played with ambiguity.”

Until We Sleep annotations

Alexander Freed: “The story of ‘Arthur’ is one of my favorite minor sequences [Varric infiltrating and fighting his way into the fortress]. It tells us something about Varric and it delivers plot information - and it’s also a reminder that our heroes kill an awful lot of people during these series and cope with it in their own ways. In general, writing Varric let me skirt the edge of metacommentary, which I greatly enjoyed.”

David Gaider: “Varric, as always, is my ‘voice of the narrator’. Here he’s expressing some of my own amusement at Alistair’s growing list of peculiarities [‘Your majesty is quite the special snowflake’]. To think, back at the beginning of Dragon Age: Origins he was just the player’s goofy sidekick who grew up in a barn.”

Michael Atiyeh: “By the third series, Until We Sleep, I really started to have a complete feel for what I wanted the final art to look like. As an artist, it’s important to continue to evolve and grow. The close-up of Sten’s face [same page as above] is a perfect example of how I wanted the rendering on the characters to look.”

Alexander Freed: “David’s outline called for a short, somber reveal of the Calenhad story by Sten. Fueled by my desire to avoid ‘talking heads’ sequences, I scripted it as a full-on storytelling flashback. David made sure the history worked (at least from the Qunari point of view), and Chad did a beautiful job handling it in a mere two pages.”

David Gaider: “Blood is important in Dragon Age, as a theme. Here we tie in the dragon blood that was mentioned all the way back in The Silent Grove and explain what it means at last. I was a bit hesitant to tarnish the legend of Calenhad the Great in this way, but I comfort myself with the knowledge this tale is but a viewpoint and not necessarily the entire truth.”

Michael Atiyeh: “Titus melting the attacker is a great example of classic comicbook storytelling and exactly what made me fall in love with the medium.”

David Gaider: “I was really happy with how Chad handled the reveal of Mae as transgender [the scene with Mae in the cell]. My worry was that Varric finding her disrobed might be potentially titillating, but I think he handled it nicely. I only wish there was more time to have Mae properly respond to being exposed in this manner, even to a friend.”

Chad Hardin: “I originally drew Mae as female [same scene as above], then changed her anatomy, so the psychological violation and humiliation she felt would be the focus. Hope that came across.”

Chad Hardin: “When in doubt, have Bianca shoot it [Varric shooting the artifact].”

David Gaider: “This scene [Varric and Bianca the dwarf] with Varric was one I wanted to do for a very long time. We’ve hinted that Varric’s crossbow was named after a real person, someone he never wants to talk about. Now I finally had the chance to show why.”

Chad Hardin: “Of all my Dragon Age pages, this scene was hands down my favorite, because Varric is my favorite. It was awesome to get to draw Bianca in her dwarven form. These scenes give you a glimpse of the love Varric and Bianca shared. It doesn’t tell you the whole story, but you can assume plenty from what is shown. You get to see Varric mostly naked (you’re welcome), but most of all you witness Varric’s heartbreak. I felt privileged to draw it. I got so obsessed with drawing this page I did an entire watercolor painting based on the last panel [Varric gets up to leave, ‘This isn’t right’ - ? or perhaps the scene where he opens the door to leave].”

Alexander Freed: “Unreliable narrators are always tricky - done wrong, they can just confuse the reader. But I’m fairly happy with Varric’s lies throughout this series, most of which are used to downplay the emotional cost of events rather than whitewash the events themselves.”

Michael Atiyeh: “This palette worked perfectly [Varric standing in front of the doorway/portal in the Fade proper], but I can’t take all the credit because BioWare provided reference for the Fade. I added the hot orange energy for the doorway, which looks great with the sickly green sky.”

David Gaider: “This scene [Isabela’s Fade nightmare] was actually inspired by a fan named Allegra who did a cosplay as a Qunari version of Isabela. I knew I wanted something like this for Isabela’s Fade section of the comic, but it didn’t really solidify until I saw the cosplay.”

Chad Hardin: “Isabela is more affected by her encounter with Rasaan than we were led to believe. A portent of things to come?”

Michael Atiyeh: “I love this shot of Mae in the fourth panel [on the page where Isabela is affected by vines]. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention what a great character she is in the series, and Chad captures her beautifully in this shot.”

Alexander Freed: “I saw this issue as a sort of downbeat victory lap. Over the course of the previous series, our protagonists largely came to terms with the inner demons the Fade confronts them with here. The fact they’ve come so far lets them win this last battle... but they still have scars that will never completely disappear.”

David Gaider: “Maric was in the first two novels I wrote for Dragon Age. Seeing Chad’s rendering of him as a regal, grown-up version of Alistair made me incredibly nostalgic. Some characters you just never let go of.”

Alexander Freed: “I feel Varric’s lines (‘tell yourself the stories you need to tell’ but ‘never live your own lies’) are the natural endpoint of all the exchanges he’s had with Alistair, starting from the end of Chapter 1 of The Silent Grove. And of course it plays off the story of ‘Arthur’, as well.’’

Chad Hardin: “I’m happy with the way Titus came off in these pages [Titus attacking and saying ‘The last magisters of Tevinter were so close’]. He looks threatening and powerful when fighting Alistair, Isabela and Varric, but genuinely confused by his inability to defeat Maric. Bye-bye, evil Jesus.”

Alexander Freed: “I can’t help but feel for Titus. He was unthinkably corrupt, but I see him as genuinely motivated by Tevinter’s glory. (The fact Alistair reads zealous ideology as a lust for power says a lot about both characters.)”

Michael Atiyeh: “I love the seamless transition of color from Titus’ magic to the dragon breath and then back into the orange remnants of his magic in the smoke. This was a really fun panel to color [Titus saying ‘Die by what wrought you’].”

David Gaider: “‘You are not the dreamer here. I am.’ I always have a scene or a line that’s in my head when I begin a tale, and this line of Maric’s was one I wanted all the way back when I started working on The Silent Grove.”

Chad Hardin: “I love this page [Maric and Alistair clasping hands]; Mike’s colors are spot on. We get to see all our heroes in an ideal state for the last time. This is the last Dragon Age page I saved for myself.”

David Gaider: “This scene kills me [Alistair destroying the Magrallen]. I knew it needed to happen; I knew I wanted it to happen even back when I began the story. Alistair lets Maric remain in the Fade rather than dragging him back to a world which has moved on. Alistair’s ready to move on, but forcing him to give up that hope... it makes me feel like a bad person.”

Chad Hardin: “Heartbreak for Alistair as he realizes that once again, as a king, he must kill: this time, his own father (granted, the Magrallen did most of the work). I really like how Maric crumbles away in the end. This was my last page, and the emotions on the page and in my studio were very final. Altogether, this was a year of my life in the making. On my last page, I wrote a thank you to everyone involved, the crew at Dark Horse and the crew at BioWare. I’d like to take this opportunity to thank them again. It was a thrill. Finally, a huge thank-you to the Dragon Age fan community, whose support was overwhelmingly awesome.”

Michael Atiyeh: “As the story came to an end, I knew I was going to miss these characters. Writing these annotations reinforces the fact that I hope to work with this great creative team again one day. Many thanks to Dark Horse and BioWare for the opportunity to work on Dragon Age.”

Alexander Freed: “The tension between the art and the narration on this page [the one with Alistair sitting on his throne while nobles argue] is something you can only pull off in comics. Neither tells the full, bittersweet story alone. Similarly, these issues wouldn’t have been possible without everyone on the team; thanks to David, Chad, Michael, and everyone I lack space to list!”

Additional pages / art

Library Edition Volume 1 also came with some additional pages, with additional art and commentary. These are as follows (I’m including them for the sake of completion, click the links to see):

1. Alistair and dragon concepts

2. Rasaan and Maevaris concepts

3. Sten, Titus and Yavana concepts

4. A series of cover pages 1

5. A series of cover pages 2

In case anyone has trouble reading the notes that accompany these images, I’ve transcribed them below:

1. Dragon Age Sketch Book

Alistair Concept 

Dragon Age / Dark Horse

Chad Hardin: “The headshot of Alistair is from a finished sketch with a rejected armor design. In order to save time, the redrawing was completed on the computer, where tweaks and changes are quick and easy, if somewhat less glorious.”

[Dragon] Head #1 / Head #2

Chad Hardin: “Everyone liked this dragon sketch so much that Dark Horse printed it for signings at conventions. You can see I did multiple proposals for the dragon’s head. It was more effective than drawing the body over and over.”

-

2. [arrow pointing to Mae’s sleeve] concealed [I think that’s what it says anyway] daggers / shurikens?

Chad Hardin: “When designing Rasaan and Maevaris, I wasn’t exactly sure how their roles would play out in the series. Maevaris’ outfit was inspired by brothel madams of the Wild West. I thought it would be cool to have some weapons concealed in the formal wear. These never came into play in the series, but they were there in my mind.”

-

3. Chad Hardin: “Although we only see Titus in his battle garb in one issue, I really liked the design of his armor. The sketch of Yavana was done on the fly and served as both a rough preliminary sketch and as a panel layout. You have to work hard and smart in comics to keep up with the deadlines.”

-

4. Cover Artist Anthony Palumbo: “This was my first assignment for Dark Horse, and I was both excited and nervous. I drew pencil sketches of the main characters, scanned them and played with different arrangements, poses and color schemes in Photoshop.”

-

5. Anthony Palumbo: “Fellow illustrator Winona Nelson helped me by sitting for photo reference. I created the mock-jewelry with gold-painted Sculpey. That’s a quick photo of my own gaping maw, to help with the image of Varric.”

[abbydramarambles]

The REAL Ending CLOY

This is my headcanon and you can’t tell me otherwise. The epilogue in Switzerland is set a few years after the events of that piano concert. They have already found a way to be together more permanently. To me the house doesn’t seem like a vacation house, it seems like a home home. 

There is that photo of Se-ri on the bridge, not something one would frame for themselves. RJH definitely lives there. Check out the north Korean coffee kettle and other souvenirs as well. This is the sort of stuff one would have in their home.

The only thing holding RJH to North Korean is his parents, the fact that they could be killed if he were to defect. After they die, he has no reason to stay. We’ve already been shown that he is resourceful and would know exactly how to get out. Not to mention that everything in north Korean runs on money, if you have connections like Se-ri and RJH do....anything is possible. And to me these two people with all their power, well they would find a way.

Dan’s mother travels out of the country a lot as well for business. I think the 2 weeks is the longest trip Se-ri takes while RJH’s parents are alive. It’s not the only trip of the year. I doubt her employees would be saying “you’re going to Switzerland again??” if it was a once a year sort of deal they wouldn’t think she had a man. They even say “it’s lasting a while this time”. Come on who in the world would think it’s a relationship if their boss goes to switzerland for 2 weeks a year. It’s her favorite 2 weeks of the year because of it being uninterrupted time. 

Well with her wealth and his determination, and connections via his family, I'm sure they'll find a way eventually, either it is his parents passing away (since it has been about 6 years between him going back to NK and the epilogue meetup), or him somehow getting a long term mentoring position at Switzerland. You’re telling me Dan’s mom a department store owner can swing to Europe anytime, and Se-ri who created a whole scholarship for her man can’t swing something in collaboration with Papa Ri?

I got the impression the student performing his song on stage was a full-time student in Switzerland. RJH is not studying abroad but is teaching NK scholarship winners. Seri has been traveling back and forth a lot but these two weeks are the longest continual time they have together. 

When Seri first sees him in Switzerland she asks how dangerous his journey was, and he didn’t answer, just said he got on the wrong train but reached his destination. “Destination” implies a final location to me, not just a two-week stay. For two people who find it torturous to be apart for even a moment, destination would not have been thrown around like that. It could’ve taken his Dad some time to manage the politics to make a permanent teaching position with the National Symphony. He did see his son cry in the car after leaving her. That man is powerful, the 3rd most powerful man in North Korean. A political manipulation genius, a man always one step ahead of the others. He got his son and 5 people in and out of South Korea. You best believe he can make it happen. He’s not going to sit back and leave his only son living without his only dream. Plus RJH was never a flag waving patriotic North Korean anyway. He already expressed that he wanted to stay with SeRi in South Korea, have a child that looks just like her. It’s kdrama script writing 101 to not have your lead character mention a deep desire such as this one unless its foreshadowing or serves a larger purpose. And Park Ji Eun is no noob writer. 

Let’s look at the way the show itself references fate and destiny. Regardless of how impossible it may seem, these two always managed to find each other again. Fate is pushing them together and is on their side. I don’t think fate wants them to meet 2 weeks a year. Fate didn’t make them meet in Switzerland, in North Korea, in South Korea, and in Switzerland again for 2 weeks a year for the rest of their lives. I can’t entertain that.  A lot of people think that the epilogue on the hill and when she meets him for the first time again in Switzerland with the parachute are the same time frame. I don’t think so. I really do think the piano concert is the ending and the picnic is the epilogue. It’s years from then, when everything has been sorted about how to be together permanently and it’s a window in to happy every after. Just look at their body language and expressions in the last scene, they are totally at peace and seem to have gotten everything they wanted. Even the music radiates peace. Listen to the lyrics of Sigriswil that play as the camera pans out “wandering this strange night, won’t you be here by me? now I hold your hands, with you I’ll be alright...how does it feel, my friend? It’s been a long day and night” THEY ARE NO LONGER WANDERING ALONE THAT IS THE POINT. period. It was a “long day and night, but now I hold your hand” ... how does it finally feel to have your happy ever after....my friend. IT REEKS OF OPTIMISM and closure. In film making the atmosphere says everything about what is unsaid in the script. 

You best believe he won’t leave a stone unturned to be with her, see her grow old and live in the house of dreams with their twins. Just the fact that he vocalized this thought in the show leads me to believe that it did indeed happen. 

Believe in what the show is telling us to believe. What it’s showing us, not telling us even. That love will always find a way. 

Cloy’s ending also reminds me of  very heavily of (spoiler) that of “my love from the stars”. It was written by Park Ji-eun, the same writer as CLOY. So yes they are forced to be apart in that show too, but he finds his way back and each time they meet its for longer and longer and its implied that one day it will be forever. If an alien could find a wormhole to make it back to his love interest, north korea isn’t looking too bad. Same thing with her other star crossed lovers show “legend of the blue sea”. The mermaid finds him again against all odds and they live happily ever (plus a baby). Hey I’m just saying that the precedent has been set on how this seperation works through our writers own works. Having seen all of Park Ji Eun I know exactly how she structures her endings. It’s almost always the same. The mermaid made it back, the alien made it back...north korea is where we draw the line? They’re only apart for awhile till they figure it out, and they work hard to do so.

Whatever this image is from TVN left it unaired. They shot something they had to pull back. My crack theory brain says she looks a bit pregnant. Actually, that ain’t even a crack theory, I stand behind it. Son yejin is so slim, and judging by the material of the dress it just wouldn’t fall like that unless they were trying to make her look pregnant. Like LISTEN, just LISTEN to me. They put in the effort to get the actors in these outfits we have never seen before, they even gave seri flowers...whY?? There are no other purely promo shots that didn’t have footage attached. The only ones I can think of are the ones they took in front of a greenscreen for the photoframes inside their house. THIS WAS A REAL SCENE THAT WAS DELETED.  South Korean dramas pre-film certain scenes (like the swiss ones) and live film the others to make slight changes to the storyline based on audience reaction. During airing there was quite a lot of political backlash a la north korea. 

There are some stills TVN released that weren’t screencaps. But ALL of them were in outfits relating to scenes we have seen, such as this one.  It just would make no sense for them to go out of there way to get this image on the jam packed expensive swiss schedule and not just do greenscreen in korea like they did for all the other promo material UNLESS it was a real scene. 

So you want more evidence for plot points that indicated the original, unaired, together forever in Switzerland ending?

Let’s look at some details, at one point in Episode 14 when Jeong Hyeok's father is meeting with the bad guy Senior Colonel who tries to use photos of Jeong Hyeok in Korea as a bargaining chip, he says "You should retire quietly. Using your health as an excuse won't raise any suspicions." now whilst this may be a casual reference to him being old and that health issues are plausible, it's also possible Jeong Hyeok's father has had some long term illness they've not mentioned which would add to why it wouldn't raise suspicions.

The main reason I thought of this is it would sort of line up with some other details, in the finale when they're deciding whether to send them back or not, at the NIS briefing they mention how the North has requested keeping it quiet and confidential, they mention "They want the confidentiality term to be five years. They're being sensitive about it because one of them is a high-ranking officers son". Then if we fast forward toward the end when Se-ri is receiving the timed messages, a year passes after her birthday message from Jeong Hyeok, after that scene we see Jeong Hyeok having his farewell meal with the townspeople and preparing to leave after being accepted as a pianist for the National Symphony Orchestra, presumably around the same time as Se-ris birthday given that scene was right before. Se-ri then comes up with her Switzerland Music academy idea probably a few weeks or month or so after she read RJH's text about meeting and then it tells as it's one year later, Se-ri waits but doesn't meet him and returns home, her mum says "It breaks my heart to see you return in disappointment every time" which if that's a correct translation it means it's been more than once by this point. Add up this entire timeline....guess what it comes out to. FIVE YEARS. That’s how long it takes them to sort out a permanent solution for their problem.

When he chooses to defect it will be much easier for him considering he’s making trips to Switzerland already. All he would have to do is walk into a South Korean embassy in Zurich. They have an open door policy for North Koreans, he doesn’t even need to cross the DMZ again. 

You want even MORE proof? Okay my friend, I’ll bite. Why are there photos of a couple with children?? Honestly come on I really don’t have to say more.

They had to leave the ending open. Due to the political situation, they couldn’t exactly show RJH, a North Korean, defecting. Pretty sure our buddy Kim Jong-un would not be chill with that.  However ridiculous it is, the show had multiple attacks on it while it was running by political parties saying it violated the “national security act”.

The ending was clearly cleverly re-edited to be less explicit so the viewer can read between the lines but the show-runners can protect themselves from lawsuits and public sentiment regarding a sort of maybe illegal situation. If you believe they met for two weeks a year for the rest of their lives, you don’t know RiRi Ri-eally well ;) 

[kettle-on]

All right, here we go. My first Monty Python fanfic, and only my second attempt at writing fanfiction since 2005. Bear with me.

This one is Eric/Mike/OFC. I do hope you enjoy! Here’s Chapter 1 of I don’t know how many yet, and it’s a bit of a slow start.

Chapter 1/? January 1978 Heron Bay, Barbados

          As the taxi pulled away and he got his first deep inhale of ocean air, Michael Palin quickly discovered he’d made a very good choice indeed to join his friends and colleagues for a working holiday in Barbados.

          At first, the idea of travelling abroad just to continue working around a table on their typewriters had seemed mostly unnecessary and rather expensive. Together with Terry Jones, he believed they’d made – as usual – the sober and sensible choice to stay at home in England and finish the script for their next film there. Much more convenient and economical.

          Unfortunately (or, fortunately, in this case), their colleagues Eric Idle and John Cleese could boast enough enthusiasm to coax Terry’s curiosity, and bend even Michael’s righteousness. Now they found themselves outside an enormous coral stone villa, and surrounded by trees and grasses that reached up into the bluest blue sky that either of them had ever seen.

          An elaborate Victorian door creaked open, and from inside emerged a red-faced John, an especially golden Eric, and the rarely seen but often spoken-of Y/N, who Eric had now been seeing for many months and with whom he declared he fell instantly in love.

          “So you’ve come to join us at last, have you?” called John, striding toward them and lazily wrapping a warm drunken arm around Terry’s shoulders. “Did you really need quite so much convincing?”

          “I suppose I did, yes. Mike not so much,” Terry admitted, coolly slipping free of the Cleese grip. He surveyed the impressive stonework and columns in front of him, and slowly he, too, warmed to the idea of a working holiday in the sun.

          “How are you both?” Eric greeted them in an unusually relaxed tone. Clearly the combination of sunshine, warmth, and probably a good woman by his side had done wonders for him.

          “I hope the trip was awful,” he added.

          “Absolutely dreadful,” said Michael, “I’d packed all twelve of my favourite books, ready for the flight, and hardly got past a chapter before I conked right out and missed everything.”

          He could feel the jet lag slowly sinking in, but a warm laugh from Eric and Y/N kept Michael alert, and he gazed wide-eyed at his surroundings.

          “You’re looking well, Y/N,” he said, taking in her now familiar appearance.

          “It’s so good to see you, Mike,” she replied with a disarming smile, and tried to remember when they’d last seen each other in person. “That’ll be all this sunshine and fresh air, I think.”

          “Yeah, sunshine, eh? What a concept!” said Eric, “Christ, if I never see snow again, I’ll be a happy man for the rest of my life.”

          “I suppose it does have its charms,” Terry conceded, already very pleased that they’d decided to travel after all. “Come on John, show me where I can find whatever it is that’s got you like that.” 

          His and John’s voices followed them through the door and down a corridor, echoing off of the stone walls and floors as they headed to the nearest drinks trolley for a cocktail.

          “Ooh yes, that’s a good idea,” squeaked Eric. “Now come on, love, I’ll show you to your room.”

          “You’ll do what?” Mike exclaimed with pretend outrage, “You mean I’ve come all this way, to this big grand mansion which has seen the likes of Churchill himself, and I don’t even get to choose my own room?”

          “Well, I figured if I left it up to you, darling, you’d wanna kip with me, and we can’t be having that,” replied Eric in his favourite Mumsie voice. “Well, not just yet, anyway,” he quietly added with an exaggerated wink.

          Even on holiday, the lads of Monty Python took any opportunity to jump into character.

          “Oh Mike, you’ll just love it,” Y/N encouraged, herself adopting a strange and posh character of her own creation. “There’s a simply marvelous view of the road from your room. Truly inspiring!”

          Michael returned her phony sentiment with a squinty, full-cheeked smile and shifted his bag strap onto his shoulder before following Eric up the front steps and indoors. Y/N stayed behind, choosing to give the two old pals some time to catch up alone.

          “I still think we could finish the script much more quickly in London, but I see why this place is so enticing.” Michael conceded to Eric, who had returned to the soft and kindred version of himself that Michael knew very well, but only ever when they were alone. In a crowd, Eric was loud and gregarious, with endless jokes and witticisms to keep his company rolling with laughter. But there was a side of him, reserved for only his closest confidantes, that was quiet, thoughtful, and romantic. Here was the man behind the madness.

          “Pretty special, eh? I told you you’d have to see it for yourself.” Eric smiled. “I dunno if it’s the walls, or the porticos, or something about the way the breezes sweep the sun in through the windows… I think this must be what being a god feels like, y’know? Do whatever you please, driven by nature and desire, with absolutely no thought as to the consequences. Brilliant.”

          “That’ll be the Jagger effect, then,” said Michael, hinting at his friend’s rockstar associations.

          “The what?”

          Michael looked at him with all-knowing raised eyebrows.

          “Do you – do you know?” Eric questioned with hushed concern. Mick Jagger of The Rolling Stones had asked Eric’s help in hiding him and model Jerry Hall somewhere beautiful and discreet, out of view of the press and public. Jerry was the girlfriend of singer Bryan Ferry, and in a very rock ‘n roll fashion, they had met up, gotten cozy, and ran off together. They were staying nearby in a fairly glamorous hut, and Eric and Y/N had already been enjoying villa visits and beach terrace dinners with the scandalous couple for a few weeks.

          “Of course I know. You bloody well told me, you silly fool!” Michael tutted, and recalled a phone conversation he’d had with a fairly drunken Eric a fortnight earlier:

          “‘Come on, Mikey,’ you said, ‘you’ll love it down here. Mick’s here with Bryan Ferry’s girlfriend, and we’ve all got our tits out!’”

          “Blimey. Trust me, eh?”

          “Never mind, Eric. Your secret’s safe with me,” Michael assured him with a sturdy pat on his shoulder before turning into what he decided would be his room for the length of his stay.

[tybalt-tisk]

Hi, Hey, Hello everyone! I have amazing for you all, @meli-writes, @synergetic-prose and myself have decided to come together to bring you all the most cheesiest, trope-heavy, tooth rooting fluuf, cliché ridden, Hallmark Christmas Movie inspired Shallura story ever. It was so much fun coming together to create this story, and we can’t wait to share more with you all. 

Our first chapter was written by the talented and gorgeous, @meli-writes! Enjoy!

..//~

..//Snow Castle Falls

“This is fine,” Allura said through clenched teeth.

She said those words, again and again, to herself up until she reached her car. Maybe if she kept repeating it, she could deceive herself into actually believing that it was true; this was fine. Everything was fine. She paused when she reached out towards the door handle when the light caught sight of the expensive engagement ring that burdened her hand.

Her brows slightly furrowed.

Lotor hadn’t called her this morning, and he probably wouldn’t until well after dinner. It was very likely he wouldn’t even notice her late arrival if she got on the road now. And if he did notice, he would surely understand that a call from the Bolivian Ambassador would take priority over catching her flight. Besides, he made a similar choice that morning when he decided to pursue a work opportunity and go to the ski resort where they were vacationing for the holiday a day early.

Without her.

She took in another deep breath. A mini winter road trip might be exactly what she needed to get her into a proper festive mood for their Christmas vacation.

Yes, this was fine.

This could work.

As she placed her designer bag in the passenger’s seat, a sparkle caught her eye, and she couldn’t help but once again admire the sweet snow globe she had nestled carefully in her bag. Inside stood a beautifully decorated Christmas tree with a red bow on top surrounded by colorful presents of different shapes and sizes. Carefully, she picked it out of her bag before she shook the tiny world. For the first time since this series of unfortunate events began, a genuine smile came to her face as the snow fell slowly around the beautiful scenery. Her secretary said it was on her desk with a note that read, “For Allura” in beautiful script penmanship when she arrived that morning.

Lotor must have left her this gift to make up for leaving early.

It warmed her heart to know that he at least went to the resort with a heavy heart about having to leave without her, and the sweet snow globe was a loving and thoughtful gesture. Most importantly, it meant that their relationship still had hope. They just both needed to put forward the initiative to work on...them. This was a good first step. It was a lovely gift, and while she wished she was on her first-class trip to the resort, this was fine. This beautiful snow globe would be the perfect companion for her impromptu holiday road trip.

This could work.

They could still work.

“This has to work,” she whispered, closing her eyes and touching her forehead against its glass. “Please make this work.” Making a Christmas Wish was something she hadn’t done since she was a child, but now she needed one more than ever. Her relationship was falling apart at the seams and she didn’t have much left to give. She was raised to be a fighter, but now, she wanted to do nothing more than to hang up the gloves.

Another deep breath was all she needed before she strapped in the snow globe with the seat belt to keep it safe. With a nod, she pressed the start button and listened to the white, mini SUV come to life. Now was the time to get into Vacation Allura mode and what better way to do that than with traditional Christmas music.

“Snowy, music please,” she said politely. She could already feel her spirits lifting.

“What station would you like?” Siri, whom she programmed to go by Snowy, asked smoothly in a deceptively human voice through the speakers of her car.

The glittery snow on her copilot’s tree gleamed and twinkled.

“Top Christmas Songs.” She winked back at the snow globe. “That’s what I was thinking, too.”

Festive cheer floated in the air around her and she hummed along as she drove. She didn’t even groan when she hit traffic on the bridge or roll her eyes when yet another car cut her off abruptly. Big Boss Allura might have gotten upset, but this was Vacation Allura with her holiday music, a peppermint mocha drink, and a promising winter getaway with her fiancé.

This was perfectly fine.

~

Read the rest on Ao3!

[emilycollins00]

Yo! Could I have some wholesome Kazu having a crush on a theater student at Veludo Arts please? 🥺👉👈 i love him

One Kazunari coming right up! 💕 💕 God I’m so sorry I took this long. I’ve been having tons of things to do and little free time to write, I apologize love!

Nonetheles, here we are finally with a Kazunari headcanon I swear this cutie pie deserves the world 💕 

Enjoy!

Kazunari crushing on theatre student! reader headcanon

All right, we all know how vocal Kazunari is, right?

Well, the first time he sees you perform, he is SPEECHLESS.

Usually, if he likes something or enjoys it, the summer member makes sure to shout it louder than anyone, but somehow, your performance makes him do nothing but pay attention to you, leaving the rest of the streets noises aside.

Veludo art is famous for his designing and art courses, but just as much as the performances ones. This one in particular, is in the middle of university. Students are surrounding you and other actors and everyone is engaged with the play.

“Ah, that’s Y/N isn’t it”

Kazunari blinks, turning his head towards his friend “You know them?”

“My roomate is friends with them. They are pretty popular around Veludo Art. Thought you would have meet them already, being now in theatre an’ all”

No, no he hasn’t?? Kazunari is SO offended for missing you until now 

He sees you a few more times and of course, being the sociable young man he is, it’s a matter of time before he goes on to hype you up and ask you for your instablam

“Your delivery was crazy epic!”

You laugh. No one had ever come up to you throwing compliments so effortlesly “Thanks. You perform too?”

“You bet! You’re are in front of one of the coolest members of Mankai company! Do you-?

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”

Turns out you are a big fan of them too, but hadn’t been able to go to many plays you were a university student after all, and tickets were kind of expensive and sold out fast

Kazunari is euphoric when he sees how excited you are 

Time passes and god, he adores discussing acts with you and talking to you about art or just spending time together??.

One day, the blond is talking about how on fleek you were for the umpteenth time when suddenly, his eyebrows raise in shock looking at your profile picture shining on his screen

His heart starts beating fast

“YOU GUYS I THINK I’M CRUSHING Y/N-RIN!!”

The whole Mankai feels a shiver down their spine, had he not noticed until now? really? 

A Kazunari obliviously crushing on you was MANAGEABLE at times. But a Kazunari fully conscious of his crush on you???

Of course, insert here one hell of pick up lines in every conversation you two have from now on

SO MANY THEATRE PICK UP LINES SOMEONE STOP HIM

“Are you my lines Y/N-rin? Because I’ll never forget you!”

“Are you a spotlight that was left too long? Because you are smoking hot!"

“Kazunari, what are you doing”

Skinship is took to another level too, but you are used to his flirty self... so it doesn’t go beyond that?

What should he do??

At this point Kazunari talks about you at the dorm so much, Tenma now gets a ticks whenever he hears your name

“Guys, I don’t know what to do! Y/N-rin was just too cute today and-”

“KAZUNARI YOU NEED TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR CRUSH ON THEM OR I SWEAR”

A few weeks later, It’s performance night at Veludo Art

Everyone backstage is a mass of nerves, you included. Someone had heard a few scouts from famous theatres had arrived and the tension to stand out was suffocating.

“We start in ten!”

Taking a deep breath, you left your script in your bag to get in position when you noticed a new message.‘Got premium seats to see you! Have some fun out there and blow everyone away! -Your cool and awesome Kazu

You can’t hide the smile that reaches your lips. 

Of course, it’s a success. Kazunari can’t take his eyes apart from you

As the play ends, he goes backstage, finding you there sweating, tired but so radiant at the same time

“You were SO brutal out there!” the summer member twirls you around, even though you are both clearly in the middle of the hall “You slayed it!”

You giggle, adrenaline still pumping as he leaves you on the floor again “It was thanks to you! Saw your message and gave me confidence!”

His heart skips a beat. How could you make him feel like that just being next to you?  

You look at him questioningly “Kazunari?”

“Oh, man” he sighs smiling, grabbing your hand. You are too much “You really need to let me treat you on a real date or I might die, Y/N-rin”

He sees you flushing for the first time

Maybe you would let him take you on that date after all

___________________________________________________________

Ugh, I love Kazunari so much. Hope you guys liked it!

Have a wonderful day!  💕

[harringtonstudios]

knowing it’s selfish.

plot: you’re a first-time actor and you’ve caught the butterflies for your co-star. 

A/N: this is kinda long oops! let me know what you think ;)

It’s been a long two weeks. After months of recording audition tapes and walking into chemistry readings, you had finally booked your first role. It had been an extremely lucky process and you had secured a contract for a high-budget Netflix movie. Once the scripts had been sent out, you had gotten a chance to meet the rest of the cast in a table reading. That had been an incredible day, especially getting to interact with Sandra Bullock, a staple in your childhood movies. You’d vibed well with all of the other cast members, and when filming started earlier this week, it’d been easy to slip into those friendships again.

Flying into California early in the morning was stressful enough without having to rush to the executive studios in order to pick up alterations they had made for a shorter script. After the bustle of traffic, even at five in the morning, and making sure all of your baggage was set in the hotel room Netflix had graciously provided you for the next two weeks, you had gone out to explore the area, unable to sleep. After a walk around the uneventful block, you had run into one of your co-stars near the front entrance. Colson Baker stood there, wearing a white tank and gray sweatpants, smoking what looked like a joint. He shot you a smile and you waved as you decided to take another shot around the block, suddenly nervous. 

This wasn’t a new feeling. The first time you had met Colson, he had been standing in the corner of the room, sipping on an iced coffee. He’d immediately caught your eye in his black turtleneck, earring dangling as he looked around the room, taller than anyone else here. You’d braced yourself, took a quick deep breath and then walked over. It took less than a minute for you two to start laughing and soon you were so immersed in the conversation that it took a pat on your shoulder to come back to the slight buzz of the room. The pat had been from Danielle who quietly whispered that the executives were calling the meeting to order. Embarrassed, you had sat down where your name was written and smiled as Colson came to sit right next to you. After running through the entire script, realizing you and him were going to play some weird fucked up type of lovers, you had thanked the Hollywood gods for their amazing casting choices. Everyone left pretty quick, so you’d just given him a high five and then walked out of the room, cursing yourself silently for not getting his number.

The second time you’d seen him was on your Instagram timeline. He’d been tagged in a picture with one of your distant industry friends and you had dived into a black hole of “Machine Gun Kelly.” Scrolling through his pictures, listening to the songs he’d put out, watching music videos, it had been a lot. The little butterfly in your chest had started to grow larger wings and you immensely regretted researching him and finding out all these little things that had you smiling at your phone screen while wrapped in a burrito blanket.

Steadying your heartbeat you turned the corner back to the front of the hotel only to catch him pacing, holding his phone up to his ear. You walked into the lobby past him, towards the elevator, glad he was too busy to talk to you. As you stepped in, you heard someone shout and you held the door open as Colson came running into view.

“Hey Y/N! How have you been,” he asked grinning. 

“I’m good Colson. Just flew in this morning, how are you doing,” you replied.

“Bored. I’ve been here for a couple days and there’s nothing to do around here,” he said, gesturing to the lobby. The elevator door started beeping and you awkwardly stepped out back into the empty area as he retracted his hand from the door. 

“You wanna grab breakfast?” you asked, heart jumping up a little. 

“Yeah dude! That’d be awesome,” and the tone in his voice lit you up.

Breakfast had been fun, both you and Colson bouncing your energies off of each other. After a successful morning, you had swapped numbers and decided to ride to set together each day, with you driving cause apparently he’d gotten his license taken away. Most nights you would both come back and end up exploring the area, going to expensive bars and dance clubs. On set, you two would always end up getting involved in some shenanigans, trying to have as much fun as you possibly could on a movie. There was never a dull night and quickly the two weeks disappeared.

-

It was the last night for a majority of the cast and even though the main characters still had a few weeks left, they decided to throw a party for everyone leaving. You felt extremely blessed to be involved in this project and even more blessed when Sandra Bullock handed you a beautiful journal winking as you opened it to a note. write down a couple of thousand thoughts you have every day. see where it takes you. You laughed as you hugged her and then felt someone hug you from behind.

 “Three’s a crowd Baker,” Sandra barked out as she walked away and you snorted before turning around to properly hug him. 

“What are you doing tonight?” he whispered into your ear and you shivered automatically before stepping back and shaking your head. 

“Nothing, sleeping probably, why?” 

“No reason, just stay up yeah?” he smirked and then walked across the room to talk to the other cast members. You rolled your eyes and turned towards the room, taking in the sight of an amazing cast you were experiencing for the last time.

-

Driving back to the hotel room alone sucked. It wasn’t a long drive, but the quietness of it all was eerie. Even with music playing, you felt slightly unsettled as you drove down the suburbs, darkened roads, with an empty passenger seat. Colson had disappeared before you left and then had sent you a four second voice message telling you to go back without him. You had been a little disheartened, especially after his questioning earlier, but you had brushed it off and started the rental car. 

Changing out of the nice dress you’d worn to the wrap party, you threw on your comfortable oversized t-shirt. You had already packed earlier and seeing as though nobody was around, you turned on some music and closed the lights, turning on just a single lamp. Dancing around the room to somebody else had never felt this good and you got lost in the beats when you suddenly heard loud knocking on the door. 

Reaching for the handle you pulled it open to reveal Colson standing there in the sweatpants you’d seen him wearing the first day holding up a bottle of Jameson. “Partying without me?”

You threw him a look and then moved aside to let him in, he put the bottle down and looked over at you. Huffing you strode over and screwed the bottle open before taking a sip straight. There was a beat of silence and you stood there with the bottle before he grabbed it from you. 

“That’s how we’re doing it?” and you nodded as you closed your eyes, feeling the beat stronger as liquor burned down your throat. 

-

Half a bottle of Jameson later, you were feeling yourself. Colson had sat right on the desk, legs dangling off and you were dancing around to the songs he put on. Occasionally, you would get him up and he’d join you, but you could tell he liked sitting there watching better, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t crave the feeling of his eyes on you. It took the beat of two more songs and then he came up right behind you, hands slowly resting on your hips. 

He leaned down and whispered, “You okay with this?” and you smiled before whispering back, “Yeah.” Girls Need Love played in the background and you rolled your hips with the music, swaying with him. You could feel the rhythm in your bones and you turned around, staring into his eyes as you moved in tune. Looking up at him, you scrunched your face together and he broke into a laugh ruining the sensual tension gathering. “Oops,” you muttered before breaking apart from him. 

“Come back, I wanted to do something,” he murmured and you felt your cheeks warm up as you faced him again. His hands came back to settle on your hips and you felt the heat of them seep into your skin. He leaned down and the next thing you knew, you were kissing Colson Baker, eyes closed as he pulled you closer to him. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he grabbed the back of your naked thighs pulling you up, walking towards the desk. Breaking apart, he put you down and you quickly said, “I think you have too many clothes on.” He pulled off his shirt, exposing his tattoos in the dim light of the lamp. 

You reached for him again, bringing his lips back to yours, wrapping your legs around his waist. Arching into him, he ran his palms up your back as your kiss deepened. Suddenly, the music cut off as your phone started ringing. Ignoring it, you kept Colson near you, continuing the kiss. A second later, his phone buzzed in his pants and you sighed as you reached over to see who was calling you this late at night. 

You quickly grabbed and picked up the call as you realized it was the assistant director. Colson was on the phone when you looked over at him, mumbling his words and you tuned him out as you tried to have a pleasant, coherent conversation, while your head spun slowly.

“Yeah, okay. No problem. Have a great night. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you said before ending the call, slumping over on the bed. You felt the bed dip, Colson falling next to you and you stared at the ceiling trying to recall the conversation you just had. 

“Guess we have an entire week left to make out,” he whispered and you wacked him in the arm before laughing. An extended week, a newfound relationship, and some Jameson, you’d never felt this lucky before.