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euphoria-looney · 2 days ago

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Idk if you’ve seen Nosferatu but I think a situation like that could totally apply to (Name).

Brief overview:

In Nosferatu, the main character Ellen grows up feeling lonely and isolated. She pleads for a supernatural being to arrive and comfort her and she wakes up ‘Nosferatu’ who makes her pledge herself to him fully. There’s loads of other stuff as well but I think this main idea would be interesting. Nosferatu in the movie is really, really old and ugly, but I think (Name) deserves a fit, hot vampire boyfriend/husband. But essentially he’s like a Vampire Count, aka Dracula.

How it’s play out:

(Name),as a young child, calls out for ‘Nosferatu’ (or whatever name the vampire will have) and he wakes up. He makes them pledge their complete loyalty to him for all eternally, essentially making them his ‘bride’. (Name) is comforted by him, but this connection fades as they grow older.

Then, when they turn 18, Nosferatu calls out for them in their dreams and travels to Gotham, keeping them in his manor. He’s basically a yandere in the movie anyway, so (Name) is kept quite weak and docile due to his mind control, spending most of their time doting on him or sleeping.

Now, I think it’d be interesting for the Batfam to react because the thing about Nosferatu is that the oath to him MUST be consensual, give or take MAJOR manipulation, but still, (Name) has to willingly go with him. So the Batfam have to come to terms with the fact that (Name) literally chose an obsessive, undead (but fit) vampire husband over them.

And ‘Nosferatu’ is NOT going to play fair if they try and take his bride. Literally no Dracula variant does.

I Asked For a Friend, But Got a Husband?

"I sense her in my mind, she's my collar" She's My Collar (feat. Kali Uchis)

So Much More. (Should I name this something new? Since it's a different AU?)

Special (?)

Divider Creds: @anitalenia and @qqmariztwsse

Being young, barely seen or heard, I could only busy myself with books. Even then how many books could I read before feeling that loneliness knaw on me?

Okay, dramatic I knew but who knew this one feeling would lead me to immediately get married by the age of eighteen?

I know how bad that sounds, trust me, I was the one who experienced it.

"What are you thinking about right now, honey?" I felt arms wrap around me.

Meet Elzire.

(Cred to this art and oc: @♱⋆༒︎Ren༒︎ ⋆♱/lcttuve)

"Nothing much," I replied looking through our mail.

How we met, well I believe it because of this, but don't take my word for it, I might just be delusional.

I had gone to the library and saw [D/D] she ecstatically waved to me before Damian pulled her away giving me a sneer. I waved that off and looked around before spotting a book that I’d never seen before.

It had a blood red cover and the title ‘Forever’, curious, I opened it. It seemed like a child's story as they had short sentences and photos. It starts with a girl who, one day after being tired of being lonely prays to the gods of her world she doesn’t care who or what they sent no matter what they looked like or how they acted as long as they were her friends, and nice to her at least, she would be happy.

Then it happened, a boy her age descended to her and every day they would play before growing old together.

The end.

I put the book back before returning to what I was originally doing, studying for my next exam.

—

It had been a good week since I read that fantasy child’s book, and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I went to the library at night when everyone was either on a mission or asleep and to my surprise the book was gone.

Someone must’ve thrown it out, there’s no reason to keep it here anyone.

I let out a sigh before heading back to my room and though I accepted the book was gone I couldn’t help but wonder, could I do that?

No, that’d be silly.

But…

It never hurts anyone to try.

“Please, whoever is out there, please accompany me and become the pillar I can lean on.”

…

Welp I tried, back to sleep I have a piano recital tomorrow no time for these goofy beliefs.

3RD POV

A figure descended into [name]’s room their black hair fluttered from the wind and their red eyes and fangs glistened in the dark of night, their hands like claws before stepping into the light a little more revealing a tall yet built man he looked angelic despite being a vampire that was friends with a demon, specially Barbatos.

He creeps a little closer to [name]’s room crouching to caress their faces. Making them blink open their eyes.

“... Am I still dreaming?” They question themself. Making the vampire chuckle holding their hands in his and asking.

“Do you mind becoming mine forever?”

“Woah, my wish worked… sure, why not.” He smiled happily placing one of their hands on his cheeks and relished in the warmth that their hand brought to his freezing complexion.

Before they had passed out.

He caught them before they could slam back onto their bed and gently laid them down.

“Don’t miss me too much.”

—

Holy crap what was that dream?

Maybe I shouldn’t mind it.

For the next few years, nothing changed except my dreams. Then I turned eighteen and it was out of pure luck that I met him, his name was Elzire.

We got married that same year after a few months of dating which I was totally against but then he convinced me and it hasn’t been like our marriage has been going great. I don’t like that he wanted me to be a stay-at-home wife.

Don’t get me wrong I appreciate him wanting this for me because he doesn’t want any workload on me but I just feel that it’s unfair for him.

Too bad the only payment he wants from me is to do simple household things but even that he just hires some housecleaning or helpers instead of letting me do it and when he comes home to get his pillow, it’s nice to play with his hair, might be better than mine.

Today again though I’m stuck at home and there’s nothing to do as I finished everything, it’s not hard when only two people are living in this house.

I went to look through the mail before finding a letter addressed to me.

It’s from Alfred, but I had never told him where I moved… It’s fine, this is Alfred we’re talking about.

“Dear young master, [name],

How have you been? It's been 7 years since we last saw you or contacted you, I managed to get a glimpse of you and was able to deliver this to you.

Your family has long awaited meeting you again, if you could give them the chance to see you that would be lovely.

Sincerely,

Alfred Pennyworth.”

I looked over my shoulder to Elzire before responding.

“I got a letter from my old butler Alfred, saying that my family would like to meet with me again.”

“So suddenly, darling?” He raised his eyebrow at that. Seems he was as lost as I was. I told him everything like he was my therapist so he knew too well himself why this wouldn’t make sense.

Despite my hesitance, I decided to go.

"Really Sweetie, you don't have to this isn't something that I would waste my time on, so neither should you." One hand on the steering wheel and the other holding my hand.

"Come on, El, I'm curious, 23 years of my life and only now do they care to see me. Wouldn't you also wonder why?"

"Wonder, not meet. but because I love you and I care for you we'll still go." He squeezed my hand a bit before softening his grip again.

We pulled up on the driveway and saw Alfred come out of the manor.

Elzire got out of the car first before opening the door for me, helping me get out.

I approached Alfred before bringing him into an embrace.

"Alfie, it's been so long." I pulled away before directing his attention to Elzire.

"This is Elzire."

"Pleasure to meet you, young sir." Alfred did his bow before leading us to the living room where the whole family was.

"[name]" [M/D] whispered, tears welling up in her eye, standing up and starting to approach me.

I smiled but didn't reciprocate the hug she was trying to give me.

"[name], we realized our mistake. it's time to come home." Bruce told me.

"Well, as much as I'm... grateful for that offer, I've already moved on and had a life, where you guys no longer matter or are related to me anymore."

"What are you-"

"This is my husband, Elzire. And I don't plan to leave him, for this."

Guys I quit on this if you couldn't notice the ending was rushed so badly, I'm so sorry to the one who sent the request I know this isn't what you would like but I kind of had a mind exploration, and now I have no idea what or how to write this request.

Maybe I'll rewrite this in the future but for now, this is the main result. If you were looking for a confrontation. It's kind of the situation of this Special.

Genuinely y'all could make your own or imagine this scenario. I have no idea what I'm doing anyway, thank you so much for reading this I don't think I'm tagging anybody on this and supporting other batfam authors, especially with all the hate that I've been seeing Luckily I haven't received anything.

Bye-bye, if anything is too unclear and grammatically wrong inform me!

Elzire:

(Cred to this art and oc: @♱⋆༒︎Ren༒︎ ⋆♱/lcttuve)

-ILoveeeMoney

#platonic batfam #platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #batfam x neglected reader #batfam

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haveihitanerve · 2 days ago

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Maybe it’s no wonder I love the trope- adorable dork of a man who thinks she is the Sun and the sky and drools when he sees her, and a strong independent woman who is exasperated by him but still laughs at all his jokes and blushes at every compliment

I grew up with these two-

Mary “a lady needn’t fear when you are near”- “oh honestly Bert” Poppins

And

Bert “when Mary holds your hand you feel so grand, your heart starts beating like a big brass band” he never got a last name

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loves0phelia · 2 days ago

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Red And Blue

Summery: His canon event.

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: kinda gore at one point nothing too crazy, grammar mistakes.

A/N: I'm so sorry for the amount of mistakes this probably has but i cant be bothered to care more i just want to get this fic out. Listen to my tears ricochet as you read

Rafe had always been good at hiding things. He kept his head down, stayed out of the spotlight, and made sure no one looked too closely. But ever since the bite, since the powers, since the responsibility that came with it, lying had become second nature.

Especially to you.

It killed him, really. Every time he bailed on a movie night, ignored your texts, or showed up bruised and breathless with a half-baked excuse, he saw the confused and hurt look in your eyes. But what was he supposed to do? Tell the truth? That he was ditching every time to swing across rooftops, and fight criminals? No. That wasn’t an option.

Tonight was no different.

“Are you serious, Rafe?” You leaned your head down, phone pressed against your ear, voice sharp with frustration. “You're leaving me again. You promised this time. I know you don't like school events but just once please”

“I'm sorry” he muttered, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “Something came up.”

“Something always comes up. What is it this time? And don’t tell me it's homework or family stuff, because I know when you’re lying.”

“I just…” He exhaled, as if a weight was pressing on his chest. “I can’t tell you, okay?” He swallowed hard.

Silence. At first he thought you hung up but he could still hear a faint shuffling from the other end of the phone call.

The silence was somehow worse than you cursing him out for bailing.

“Why not? I thought we told each other everything.” your voice was softer this time, more fragile

God, how badly he wanted to. He wanted to tell you about the fights, the injuries he had to patch up alone, the weight of trying to be a hero when all he wanted was to be a normal guy. But if he told you he'd put you into too much risk.

He couldn’t let that happen.

So he did what he always did.

He lied.

“I just need you to trust me,” he said even if his chest ached. “Please.”

You thought for a long moment, then shook your head with a sad smile even if he couldn't see you. “You say that like I don’t already.”

And that hurt more than any punch he’d ever taken.

Because he knew he was running out of chances. The more he lied the more it felt like you were walking away.

“Welp” you said, popping the P, as if trying to lighten up the mood, before taking a small pause. “I'm already half ready and Gwen really wants us to go to the party so if you change your mind just call me?”

"Okay," he whispered into the phone.

"Bye, Rafe." The call ended with a soft beep, leaving him alone with the silence.

“i suck” He let out a heavy sigh, groaning as he flopped onto his bed. The mask, half-folded over his face, slipped down, unfolding on its own. It rested against his nose—a quiet, relentless reminder of the responsibilities he has over the city.

"Heyyyy!" Gwen called out, sprinting toward you from the front steps of the school, where she had been waiting. Her face lit up the moment she spotted you approaching.

You hesitated, glancing at the building behind her, you could hear music thumping from inside.

“Rafe is not with you?” she asked, looking around you thinking she might have missed him.

“No, you know how he is. He bailed again” you sighed.

“What is his problem?” She didn't wait for an answer and continued, “you know what? let's forget about him and just have fun” she looped her arm with yours and instantly began dragging you.

The homecoming party was in full swing, music pounding against the walls, and laughter echoed through the gym where it took place. It reeked of sweat, and the floor was already sticky as if someone had dropped bottles of juice on the floor and honestly if Rafe was here you would have begged him to leave with you already.

You tried to enjoy the moment, despite the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. You clutched a red Solo cup filled with non alcoholic fruit punch, swirling the liquid mindlessly. You knew you’d only take a few sips—just enough to look like you were part of the fun.

Beside you, Gwen nudged your arm with a playful grin. “Come on, loosen up a little! It's homecoming, not a funeral.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? This just isn’t really my scene.”

“You mean you don’t love being crammed in a gym full of sweaty high schoolers who haven't learned what deodorant is yet, with music so loud it could cause permanent hearing damage?” Gwen dramatically gasped.

“Shocking, right?” You smirked.

“Alright, no excuses. One dance. Then I’ll let you go back to brooding in the corner with your untouched fruit punch.” She grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the dance floor

You sighed but let her drag you along anyway , attempting to let go of the tension in your chest just for a few minutes.

But it didn't last long.

A single phone rang loudly, cutting through the music—then another, and another, until the entire gym was filled with the sound of alerts. Conversations stopped, and a wave of confusion swept through the crowd as people scrambled to check their phones. Those who had left theirs at home leaned over shoulders, desperate to see what was happening.

It was an emergency alert.

A link attached to the notification led to a live report from a hovering news helicopter. The shaky footage showed Spider-Man in a brutal fight with something massive—a creature that towered over him. Gasps and murmurs spread through the party as people recognized what they were seeing.

Another lizard.

New York had seen its fair share of Dr. Curt Connors copycats, but this one was different. It was bigger—almost dinosaur-sized; its scaly skin was reflecting the city lights as it tore through the streets. The ground seemed to shake even through the screen.

“This… this one’s huge,” someone whispered, their voice barely audible over the growing panic.

The realization hit all at once. This wasn’t just another mad scientist playing with forbidden experiments and chemicals. This was something worse. And it was heading straight for the school.

The battle outside was relentless. The massive Lizard roared, its tail whipping through the air, sending cars flying like toys that weighed nothing. Rafe gritted his teeth, webbing up debris and yanking himself through the air to keep up with the monster’s destructive path.

Every web he shot was torn apart and all his strength did nothing against the creature. Rafe's body ached, exhaustion creeping in faster than he wanted to admit. The Lizard was too strong, too fast, and it was pushing forward, heading straight toward the school. Toward you.

He forced himself to move, barely dodging a swipe of the creature’s paws. His vision blurred for a moment, his limbs trembling. His suit was torn. He was too weak. He wasn’t going to make it.

Then he saw it. In that small moment of hesitation, that single breath he allowed himself to take, the monster had surged forward. Its massive feet slammed into the school celling, reducing the entrance to ashes. Dust and debris shot into the air as the walls groaned under its weight. His chest tightened—he had wasted precious seconds

A deafening explosion sent shockwaves through the school, knocking people off their feet. walls shattered, dust lifted in the air, screams filled the gym, all the lights were shut off putting the school in full black out and the once-lively party descended into chaos.

Everyone was running frantically, The entire building shook as you all felt the creature getting closer seeking destruction. All you could hear was the scream of people desperately trying to find an exit.

“We have to go!” Gwen took your hand and began running but there was nowhere to run, the school was falling piece by piece.

The next thing you knew, the Lizard’s massive paw tore through the ceiling, debris raining down. Screams got louder and louder. It wasn’t just destroying the building—it was tearing apart anything in its path.

Even students.

You barely had time to process the horror unfolding before your eyes. The sickening sound of ripping metal, the desperate cries for help—it was too much. You wanted to run, to do something, but your body felt frozen in place, paralyzed by terror.

And then you saw it.

A lifeless hand, limp beneath the rubble. A shoe that hadn’t been there seconds ago. Blood smeared across the floor where moments earlier, there had been laughter.

Your breath hitched, your chest was tightening with a grief so sharp it felt like it might crush you. This wasn’t just destruction. It was a massacre..

You barely had time to process it before a chunk of debris came crashing down—right toward you and a figure dressed in red and blue dropped from the ceiling and came at you as fast as light could travel.

In a blur of motion, you were flying through the air, held tightly against a strong chest.

“You need to go!” Spiderman yelled as soon as he dropped you back on your feet. But you couldn't hear him over the roars and the screams.

Before you could respond, a violent force knocked you both apart. You tumbled across the floor, the wind knocked from your lungs and the monster hovered over you.

Spider-Man lunged, webbing the creature’s face and yanking it backward. “Run!” he shouted at you, desperation in his tone. He fought with everything he had, flipping, dodging, striking with all the strength he could collect. But the Lizard was relentless.

Then, in the chaos, you tried to run—but the Lizard’s tail lashed out, striking you hard. The sound of impact was harsh. You hit the ground with a sickening thud.

“No!” Rafe’s voice cracked, Something inside him snapped. Rage flooded his veins, and every ache, every ounce of exhaustion vanished.

With a furious roar, he attacked. His punches came harder, his movements faster. He webbed the Lizard’s limbs, yanking it into the ground with a force that shattered concrete. He didn’t let up. He couldn’t. Not after what had just happened.

Finally, with one last web the monster was tied to the floor unmoving and unconscious, the host of the lizard and succumbed.

But none of it mattered.

Rafe stumbled toward you, collapsing beside you before pulling his mask up to truly see you.

“No, no, no—come on” he pleaded, his hands lifted your head up and he felt the liquid pouring out of the large gash behind your head. His blood stained hands trembled as he brushed the hair from your face, his vision blurred with tears. “Please, Y/n—”

Your eyes fluttered open slightly, breathing shallow. A weak, bittersweet smile ghosted your lips. “I always knew,” you whispered. “I always knew it was you.”

Rafe froze, his breath catching in his throat.

“I just… wished you told me,” You murmured, fingers barely gripping his suit. “I still would’ve… loved you.”

Tears streamed down his face. “No, don’t—don’t talk like that. You’re going to be okay. I promise, I—”

But you exhaled one last breath, your hand slipping from his suit. Your body went still.

“Please, no. i love you” he lifted your body further into his as if his warmth could bring you back but it didn't.

And after that moment the canon remained intact.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #spider man au #rafe x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe imagine #rafe cameron outer banks

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l1ndseyper3z · 2 days ago

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Gallavich headcanons cause I'm tweaking out about them

- mickey loves bands (basically confirmed in 1-07 cause of the radiohead shirt) and the first time he heard I Love You by Fontaines all he could think about was ian so that's basically their song to him

- mickey runs cold, ian runs hot

- I kinda get the vibe that after a while Terry's death actually started fucking with Mickey kinda in the way Monica's death fucked with Ian. it made mickey get kinda clingy but Ian didn't mind

- in s5 when Ian broke up with Mickey. it was 100% self destruction, he'd seen Monica and didn't want to drag Mickey into what he thought he was destined to be

- ian calls mickey baby and anyone who teases mickey about it gets threatened cause mickeys a softie who will never admit it

- although Mama Milkovich canon is unclear, I think she died somewhere in season 1 after being ill for a while. it definitely fucked with mickey and I believe that's why he ended up hooking up with ian. he thought because she was gone he had no reason to live and was just winging life. he was definitely close with her

- some songs that make them think of each other are Arms Length - Sam Fender, Open Wide - Inhaler, The Craving - Twenty One Pilots.

- they're such girl dads this is not up for discussion

- I think they end up having one kid, a girl. mandys the surrogate and she basically ends up being mickey with red hair

- mickeys a big Eminem fan cause I said so and once he has his daughter mockingbird RUINS him

- I imagine the first time Mickey held his daughter he literally just sat there for hours in awe and all the Gallaghers were just like woah ian you've managed to break mickey what the hell

- they're such good dads

- if their kid ended up with bipolar they'd deal with it so well

- honestly they're the ones most likely to break the cycle

- ian is generally clingier but mickey doesn't mind. he actually quite likes it (although he'll never admit that out loud)

- ian fell first, mickey fell infinitely harder

- mickey gets quite emotional sometimes, I mean you saw how much he cried over ian. I think finally coming to terms with all the shit he went through hit him like a truck around the time terry died

- ian is big spoon

- cause they're little domestic bitches one of their favourite things is ian reading a book while mickey naps on him or next to him and ian messes with his hair with his free hand

- people act like they don't engage in pda but they TRADEMARKED pda

- mickeys too possessive to not like pda

- mickey and debbie plus ian and mandy. lethal

- ian loves seeing mickey fit into the family. family's a massive thing for the Gallaghers so seeing mickey blend right in makes ians heart melt

- ALSO seeing mickey do anything domestic like laundry or shit makes ian horny just saying

- mickeys scent 100% grounds ian. it's what he was around at the peak of his bipolar and it brings so much comfort to him

- hence why they share clothes so much

- mickey just likes robbing all ians shit cause why not and ian loves smelling mickey

- going back to if they had a bipolar teenage daughter mickeys literally the best dad ever

- needs a day off school cause shes struggling? absolutely let me call them.

- she feels like shit? come here we'll get comfy on the couch and watch a movie

- doesn't wanna take her medication? talk to me about it, tell me why and I'll explain why you should, we can try new stuff if you need it

- mickey hated ians black hair

- after they banged in prison for the first time they were lay there and mickey just went "why u not a redhead anymore? you look like a fucking idiot"

- part of him being such a good dad is because of terry but also because he's genuinely a gentle person deep down and it just took security and comfort to bring that out. plus he wants to make his mum proud

- everytime ian sees mickey with their daughter he just like falls into a puddle on the floor

- they visit Monica's grave every year. mickey doesn't really like her but he wants to make sure ian stays connected to her

- same with mickeys mum, they visit her a lot

- everytime they go into the Kash n Grab when they're in the southside they just giggle. it's so goofy to them now

- they see Jimmy Steve's dad out somewhere one time and they're both like 😦😦😦

- they're such bad influences

- always up to some dumb shit

- basically they're all of our parents and I love my sillies

#gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #noel fisher #cameron monaghan

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kashimos-hajime · 1 day ago

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—a man | s.r.

summary: "what we need, sweetheart, is a man."

pairing: suna rintarou x reader

a/n: for context, inarizaki is being placed in nishinomiya for the sake of this fic | part of the undateable series

masterlist

The lunch bell shrieks and the students all around give a grumble as they pour back into the class room. You’re in the midst of putting your lunch box away, but the question Mina, your near and dear friend, poses you has your face akin to a woman who’s got sliced lemons wedged into her cheeks. “No, no, I’m fine not dating anyone right now. Akio just dumped me—” you count on your fingers— “two, or, three? Weeks ago.”

“Ugh, but that was nothing. You don’t even care, so why not come with me?” she pleads, clasping her hands and leaning on your desk. “I promise, it’s not going to be bad. Just one date. A double date. That handsome boy from Kujirami we saw from the spring party asked me out to see a movie in Kobe, and it’ll be so lame if I have to go by myself. I’m sure he has a cute friend!”

“I guess?” Your voice, tinged with doubt, twangs when you wince and you search for an excuse, glancing around the room as casually as you can. The teacher's behind his desk, re-organizing his papers, and you agonize over the minutes he takes. Couldn’t he cut class conversation short, for once? “But I don’t want to transit to Kobe from Awaji on the weekend. It’s so much time, and I have to work. Maybe if it were afterschool?”

“Would Friday work?”

You try not to curse to Mina’s face. “Maybe… but it’s the end of the school week. I’d, y’know, wanna go home. And Thursday is like... we have homework. And stuff.” At your friend’s crestfallen expression, you quickly add, “I wouldn’t want to third-wheel your date anyway. If I’m there, and his friend’s there, we might end up talking to each other rather than our dates.”

A pout flashes across her face. “If they can't keep us interested, then they’re not good enough for us. Didn't you say on your first date with Inoue-san, he didn't say a single word? And we know how that turned out."

“Well, don’t take a page out of my book. Every time I give a guy a chance, they’re just not…" You don't exactly want to linger on all your failures at the moment. "Well, just give him a chance, and don't look for the bad stuff. You know, sometimes first dates, the nerves get in the way.”

“Is that what you tell yourself, too? 'Cause if you have no luck, I can't imagine what I've got going for me. Ugh, I'm so sick of boys!" Mina shoots to her feet with a new, ferocious light in her stare as she flexes her arm, patting the bicep with a sharp smile. “What we need, sweetheart, is a man.”

“A man,” you snort, laughing. “As if those exist.”

“You never know.” The chair squeaks as Mina finds her seat again. Twisting around, she sends you a wink. “Think about it, won’t you?”

“I will,” you agree. Reaching down into your bag, you feel a shadow fall across your figure, and you crane your head up at the boy standing before you. Suna Rintarou is staring down at you as if you’re the one in his way, but you can't possibly be so, and he's most definitely in the wrong section of the classroom.

“Hey.”

You only straighten up, withdrawing your English notebook and dusting off your desk quickly. “Hi.” Picking out your favourite pencil, you adjust the layout of your desk, and take a quick sip of water before realizing Suna’s still standing there, tapping on his phone, and you look at him again. “Can I help you?”

He withdraws something from his pocket—a cleanly folded piece of paper—but doesn’t even meet your gaze. A flicker of irritation licks at your stomach. “Osamu wanted to give this to you.”

“What is it?”

“From our volleyball meeting.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“He volunteered you to fill our manager spot since Shiri-san won’t be coming back this year. It’s the form.”

Taking it, you open your mouth to ask another question but he’s already walking to the back of the class, and you frown, eyes trailing after the boy who sits down and pulls out his phone, already slouched over and half-hidden by the person sitting in front of him. Ridiculous.

With a huff, you face forward again. The paper crinkles as you see your name already written at the top in Osamu’s slanted writing, but the teacher is calling for the class’s attention (of course, now is when he decides that his paper stacks are straight enough), and the idea is pushed to the back of your head with a firm, resounding answer.

No way.

#fic: the undateable #suna x reader #suna x you #suna x y/n #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x you #suna rintarou #suna rintaro #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou x you #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #my writing

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motheroffeline · 3 days ago

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Come to me

Incubus Aaron Pierre x black obsessive witchy female reader, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), dominant Aaron Pierre, reader is a Tumblr girlie, plot is basically the reader does a love spell on Aaron Pierre, masturbation, and p in d. 18+!!!! DO NOT ENTER!!!!

Your friends made it a point to tell you constantly to delete Tumblr which was literally your therapy at this point. Besides, why would you? Every single piece of smut ever made was literally on the app. Currently, you were laying in your bed, hand pushed waist deep below the elastic of your tights as you stared at the man of your wet dreams: Aaron Pierre. The way he danced through that spirit tunnel sent a surge of wetness through you every time you looked at him. Something was sure and it was that you had to have him. Wife or girlfriend be damned because it was clear that his eyes were looking at you.

There were multiple women on the internet lusting after him yet none of their desires were so compulsive like yours. After you discovered who he was you began to delve into love arts or "spirituality" because in your mind it would beckon him towards you. Begrudgingly, you even downloaded Facebook to collect more pictures of him to add to your online collage. Every night, you would look at his picture and resight the psalms you began to know like the back of your hand. Each night the dreams began to become more vivid.

Your friends began to show great concern for the sudden infatuation you seemed to have with Aaron Pierre. Even Michelle, a long-time childhood friend of yours, was disturbed by the crazed look in your eyes and the way you gestured that all in short words said: I have him. Who needs a fucking friend? You thought to yourself as the women you loved since girlhood expressed their concerns.

Michelle with her light brown eyes furrowing with sadness at your current state said, "girl even if it's a small break just take a little break from the internet. I'm not trying to be mean, but this shit is borderline obsessive. Remember when we used to laugh at them crazy girls on those Tubi movies? You are turning into them girls!" Then, Myah who you had met last year while clubbing wanted to speak some morals into you. "Don't ever obsess over a man that'll never know you. Yeah, a crush itself isn't bad but what you've got going on..." There was a brief silence and an exchange without words between her and Michelle.

You got up without looking at either of them or took a bus home. Who needs a fucking friend?

...

Aaron Pierre's face was plastered over every single social media platform. He came into your dreams with those alluring eyes and the image of him lay so heavy on you that you would think about him while at your job which was a good thing that it was online. You logged out of your computer and masturbated in the shower to the thought of his multicolored eyes. That innocent but sexy way he smiled was nearly enough to send you over the edge every time you saw it.

After shaving and moisturizing your rich, brown skin you saw that Aaron Pierre was doing a livestream on YouTube. Something debauched ran through you and you decided to join the live stream. Every word that formed from his lips were ignored by you as the arousal you felt began to build. At the touch of your clit, his words were cut short as his eyes seemed to stare into yours through the camera. Everybody in the livestream were typing things like "?", "A A ron you good?", "Tf happen", and " Not my babyyy". It was obvious that his eyes were fucking yours with their intensity, something that should be considered supernatural because of how suddenly he was disrupted. The live ended abruptly as you reached the peak of your orgasm and that's how you knew that your calls to him were slowly being answered one ring at a time.

At the beginning of a new morning, you began to work your way through your mundane job when your doorbell rang. Who could it be at this time in the morning? You thought to yourself. And when you opened the door, it was the man himself standing before you. It was something that people could only dream would happen to them but here he was in the flesh, standing before you with that small smile on his face as though he had spawned out of thin air.

"I know what're you're doing... Getting into my head with the subliminal shit. Won't be the first girl to do some crazy shit like this but I guess I'll bite. You didn't even know we lived in the same state. What kind of fan are you?" Somehow his voice was deeper than you've ever heard it before, and it set off something you. Every instinct was screaming not to let this man in, yes, he was Aaron Pierre, but he was a still a stranger at the end of the day.

You decided to let him in.

You finally find the words to say to him, "how do you even know where I live? I started doing the shit because I just knew it wouldn't work yet... here you are! If this is a dream then I can only hope that I'm in a coma right now because..." You pushed your fingers through your afro in frustration.

He finally let out a laugh that was so loud that it shook you to your feet.

"I'm fucking around, I'm visiting all of my top earning contributors. Bit expensive AND dangerous but it's a good marketing tactic. What's with the sullen look?" The cocky look on his face admittedly made you angry. Still, how the fuck did he find you? Life literally gave no answers when you needed them.

"Ok, you're here at my house what do you want?"

Aaron Pierre tapped his chin and then fixed those impossibly colored eyes on you: "I'll let you be the first one of my fans that I fuck. It seems like you want some dick and I'm willing to contribute." The situation would have rubbed anyone wrong, but it just made you wetter.

"Hold that thought." You went over to your cabinet and grabbed your bottle of stella rose and drank over half of it before coming back to him. "You want to fuck me of all people? Something really ain't right about this shit. Like, do you get how much legal trouble this could get you in? I mean I wanna fuck but still. You perfect all over, an actor, the world wants you and... me?" That lecherous grin stayed plastered on his face and seeing him in real life really showed you how ethereal the man was. Muscles rippled underneath his white shirt every time he gestured, his eyebrows were thick and full; but those damn lips are what you wanted the most.

"I'll go ahead and make it all easy for us ight?" In that instant, he snapped his fingers, and you were both on your bed.

"What the fuck?" None of this was making sense, only if it were a dream would it be possible for it to be true.

Aaron Pierre ran his tongue from your neck to jawline as his eyes surveyed the pained look in your eyes. "You smell so fucking good; I love a woman that moisturizes. His hands came up to massage your breasts through your night gown and you were moaning out before you knew it.

"Why are you doing this?" Tears sprang to your eyes at the gentle massage he gave to your breasts, pulling one chocolate nipple out to suck into his mouth. He pressed a finger to his mouth telling you to be quiet as he took his other hand and caressed you through your sweatpants. The arousal was like a liquid heat that was building to overflow.

"Wet ass... this pussy wet for me and nobody else... mmmmmm, I can't wait to eat it baby." His voice shook as he continued to press against you. After practically groping you, he laid on his stomach and pulled your sweatpants and underwear off in one fell motion. His tongue went from clit to ass hole as he licked you like a dehydrated dog. At this point, you were whining and mewling so loudly that somebody from three blocks down would be able to hear you. His pupils began to change into slits as he fucked you with his tongue and slipped a finger in to add damage to the equation.

"I'm gonna cum." You said as a warning, but he only smiled as he continued to eat you like it was his favorite food. High pitched squeals began to come from you and no matter how much you pushed his head, his lips and tongue never let up which led to you squirting all over his face.

"Damn, never had a meal that just kept on giving." He licked his lips in an exaggerated manner and crawled on top of you and began to sloppily kiss you. Spit was exchanged along with your arousal as his... wait a minute? His slit eyes stared back at you. You were enthralled so completely by him that you could neither run away nor scream.

His dick slipped into you so discreetly that it was like he was crafted out of velvet. You spread your legs further apart as he pounded into your wet pussy as though you were a toy. Those eyes dared you to look away as he made your fantasies, and your nightmares come true. You did believe in some supernatural things but really more for fun than anything else and now the proof was fucking you into oblivion. Of course, he had to be a demon, there was no man popular or otherwise that had garnered attention like this.

He moaned as he leaned his head back exposing his bobbing Adam's apple. His sweat dripped down on you as he took you in missionary. "This what you wanted though. I understand your fear but don't worry about the fear right now. Your biggest crush in the world is fucking you so good you can't say nothing." His words were both condescending and erotic in their own right as your arousal caused his dick to appear dripping with it. The roughness of his stubble pubic rubbed against your clit which caused you to babble incoherently.

"I wanna watch that ass bounce against it. Hol' up..." He snapped his fingers, and you were both were in doggystyle position. You wanted to cry because of how intense the pleasure that he was giving you. Every single thrust hit that spot inside of you.

He grabbed your waist and fucked himself with you. He let out a deep growl and came inside of you so much that it overflowed onto your clean, cashmere pink sheets. Now, a darkness firmly planted itself in the air within the silence of prior sex. But the quietness was suddenly disrupted by his beautiful voice:

"Loved every minute of this shit.... but you gotta close them pretty brown eyes of yours and forget." Tears sprang to your eyes as you lay completely limp as he towered above you, "nobody in the world can know about this which is why I'm making you forget what happened here. I'll be one of them men you want but can't get again. I'll be one of them men you'll never meet because we haven't met. But what I won't remove is the way you aching from me eating and fucking that pussy... you wouldn't wanna forget that, yeah?" His voice faded into the background as inky blackness started to fill your vision.

****************************************************************

Y'all I am so disgusting for this!!! I couldn't sleep so I was like lemme make a little smut for us tumblr girls who like Aaron Pierre but then I went overboard, and I was like eh I'm not deleting all of this lmao.

#aaron pierre #smut #rebel ridge #fine as fuck

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blueishspace · 2 days ago

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Hero, Villain God 58

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Scar's pov*

You don't even have to wait that long for Altostratus and Ocean Queen to arrive, It's a bit impressive to be honest... You hope they didn't violate the speed limit to get here or something, you really don't want anyone to get in trouble for you if you can avoid it.

The black windowed car stops in front of the building, It's definitely property of the association...not fair, you weren't given a car... You don't know how to drive one but still, unfair.

The front door opens, It's Altostratus at the wheel with Ocean Queen sitting next to him, she waves at you. He lowers his sunglasses (Who even wears sunglasses during a storm???) and looks at you.

"Get in losers we're going shopping"

... Eh?

"But we are going to see Cuteguy"

"I know, jeeze, just wanted to say the quote"

"Oh!"

Yeah that makes sense! You would do the same for Star Wars quotes. You nod and make your way onto the backseat, Cub follows quietly behind you.

You expected the car ride to be silent but almost immediatly Ocean Queen turns towards you and Cub to ask about Cuteguy.

"Oh Sheriff is so mean, he won't tell me anything about the guy! Can you believe it?"

"I mean, I doubt he's allowed to" Responds Cub while sipping on sone kind of juice...where did he even get that!?

"Well, as his sister I feel like I'm owed at least the bare minimum! So! Hotguy, Cub, what is Cuteguy like?" She fully turns her head around, you can hear Altostratus protest at the sudden movement.

"Well, I've met the guy few times, seems like a nice guy and all even if sarcastic. Can't tell you much more then that though, Hotguy is the exper here."

Two sets of eyes turn to you, you didn't expect this to become an interview. "Cuteguy... he's great actually! He...well, I'm not going to say too much without him agreeing to it but he's really kind. And brave, he put himself in front of a bullet for me."

The conversation continues from them and when you tell them all you think you can tell them the conversation somehow turns to movies and from there to cartoons to you ranting about the decline in quality of Disney films.

Cub ends up shutting down 5 minutes in and Altostratus almost slams his head into the steering wheel at one point, Ocean Queen seems pretty interested though... It's at this point you remember the one question you had.

"So...uh, are the two working are working a case together? Oh! Is it a big super secret thing?"

Cub focused back. "If it was a 'super secret thing' I doubt the would be telling you".

Ocean Queen turns to Altostratus. "Should we tell him?"

In response he straightens up in his seat."What? Why?"

You are... Very confused... and suspicious. Especially suspicious. Are they hiding something from you? Why?

Ocean Queen just pouts in response. "He's our coworker, he should at least get know that much... Plus he did tell us about Cuteguy, It's the least we could do."

"... I ...I guess??? Just-" he sighs. "It's not something you can take back."

She turns her body so that's she's now somewhat looking at you again...

"So uh...me and J- Altostratus are actually married. So uh ... Surprise?"

Wait, is she serious? That's awesome! Really, you don't get why they didn't say so earlier.

"Congratulations-"

You are interrupted by the car coming to a stop.

Altostratus shuts off the car and steps out. "We're here lads, try not to let too much rain into my car when you get out, It's just been cleaned. If you do I will know and I won't be happy about it."

#trafficblr #traffic smp #hermitblr #hermitcraft #goodtimeswithscar #ldshadowlady #cubfan135 #joel smallishbeans #hero villain god au

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apoloadonisandnarcissus · 2 days ago

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"What kind of trauma, pain and violence is so great that even death cannot stop it?": Reincarnation in "Nosferatu" (2024)

I already talked about this extensively in another post (and even did some brainstorming on Eggers' Orlok possible backstory) but I want to come back to this topic, because this is probably my favorite theme in this film, mostly because it’s left so ambiguous, and I’ve come across more interviews and got more evidence.

A little introduction: Robert Eggers doesn’t want us to know the backstory on his Count Orlok, but he wrote a novella on it and gave it to Bill Skarsgård, for preparation. We know he’s a 16th century Transylvanian nobleman, from the 1580s (“lord” and “lordship”), he’s not Vlad the Impaler (15th century), he was a voivode (warlord), a enchanter/sorcerer (Şolomanari) and he was married, and had a family. "That will never be shared because the mystery of the enigma is better for an audience, but it was important for Bill to have that history." Eggers needs to release his novella on Orlok backstory, because I want to know!

And this backstory actually influenced Bill’s entire performance, as Robert Eggers reveals in one interview: “And while Bill was also doing what I was asking for, he brought more to the table too, particularly with binding moments where Orlok was vulnerable. I was so sick of the tropes of the sad vampire that I didn't want to go there. But Bill knew that it was important to still have the vulnerability in some places. And I think it makes the performance.”

Including the ending: “I sent [Bill] a backstory of Orlok that I wrote. So we came to it together to achieve what I was after. Because I’m so tired of the heroic and sad vampires, I was just like, ‘He’s a demon. He’s so evil.’ Bill was like, ‘Yeah, but there needs to be some times where he has some kind of vulnerability.’ It’s very subtle, and it’s not there often, but it is enough. I think the ending of the movie is much more effective than it would have been without Bill’s acute sensitivity to that – while still delivering on this big, scary, masculine the vampire”.

We have Bill to thank for Orlok’s more nuance performance, because Eggers’ initial idea was cardboard demon, due to his aspiration of making vampires scary again. But this tell us something else (I already suspected): Orlok’s backstory is definitely tragic and sad. Hence Eggers saying he didn’t want the “sad vampire” but Bill said vulnerability was necessary to add depth to the character. And thank Bill for that, because, personally, I can’t stand one-dimensional characters, even “demonic” ones.

The prologue of the film (between Ellen and Orlok) is based on this material: “Most importantly, I was thinking, ‘Who are these characters, and how can I build out their backstories and make them real people?’ I also wanted our version to be Ellen’s story. The previous Nosferatu films start out as Thomas Hutter’s story, or Jonathan Harker’s, and then become Ellen’s story, but I wanted it to always be her story. Our film’s prologue comes from the work I did with the novella.”

When discussing the use of Dacian and the reconstruction process, Robert Eggers revealed Orlok is a very ancient being: "Orlok is an ancient noble, predating even the foundations of the Romanian Empire."

This tells us we are, indeed, dealing with reincarnation in this story, because the "Count Orlok" in the film is a late 16th century corpse, with a whole boyar and vovoide backstory, the sovereign of a Transylvanian county (count). But he’s also a priest-shaman follower of Zalmoxis, the Dacian God of life and death, and owner of the secrets of immortality. Reincarnation being true immortality actually makes perfect sense; and it’s also a theme in one of the most iconic “Dracula” films of all time, “Bram Stoker’s Dracula” by Francis Ford Coppola.

"Ellen’s most prominent evening dress is indigo with lilacs embroidered and beaded on the front and on the sleeves. This lavender hue subliminally underscores the connection between Ellen and Orlok, who remembers lilacs from when he was alive." Nosferatu costumes link Ellen and Count Orlok Interview

Ellen is the lead character, and Robert Eggers says he wanted to tell his version of this story "through the eyes of the female protagonist", and "it is a tale of love and obsession and a Gothic romance” and he even said Ellen and Orlok are "beyond love". What's intriguing to me is why is his Orlok so obsessed with Ellen, specifically. Why does he want her soul forever at his side? Why is he dragging her to her grave? Because this is his motivation in this story. He’s not after world domination nor anything. Ellen’s soul by his side for all eternity is what he wants (and gets, at the end).

I think the answer can be in his interviews about Balkan and Slavic folklore, because there is one idea that seems to be on his mind:

The most important thing was going back to the folklore and the early Balkan and Slavic folklore [...] Most surprisingly, many of these early folk vampires do not even drink blood; rather, they might suffocate their victims to death or spread plague and disease. Some early folk vampires when disinterred from their grave were noted for having erections. Some of them came back to fornicate with their widows until the women died of an excess of intercourse. If they did drink blood, it was generally not from the throat, but the chest – the victim’s “heart blood.” You can still find reports of vampirism from the Balkan regions, where the folklore is thoroughly enmeshed with local culture. What are we to make of stories like this? What kind of trauma, pain and violence is so great that even death cannot stop it? It’s a heartbreaking notion. The folk vampire embodies disease, death, and sex in a base, brutal and unforgiving way. ‘I had to make the vampire as scary as possible’: Nosferatu’s Robert Eggers on how folklore fuelled his film

Which is something he will mention again:

“You wonder what is the dark trauma that doesn't die when someone dies. […] [So you suspect something terrible happened between them in real life and that this story was a way of grappling with that?] That's my hypothesis.” Robert Eggers Reveals the Ghastly True Tales Behind His New Nosferatu

In Romanian folklore, when strigoi (which is what Orlok is and this is his lore) raise from their grave the first time, they return to those they have loved the most, because they wish to relive their life together. The strigoi usually torment them until they are dead, too. Which is exactly what we see in “Nosferatu” (2024) with Orlok and Ellen.

From the film itself we know he was dead and rotting since the late 16th century until Ellen brought him back from the dead and cursed him to be a strigoi. At the prologue. And, in true strigoi myth, he appears at her window, asking for entrance.

The evidence that Ellen is the reincarnation of Orlok’s wife or lover or bride is palpable in this story, not only in the entire folklore that inspired it, but in the dialogue itself. In another post, I already analyzed Ellen and Orlok’s backstory (after the prologue and before Ellen marriage to Thomas), and Orlok never actually took her as his lover, in the sense there was no “astral sex” going on between them, and what she was doing was masturbation and him as a haunting (still creepy, but he didn’t actually touch her).

But still she’s absolutely convinced he did, and then we have all the connection with the lilacs, from both of them; yes, it’s meant to be a visual storytelling device to represent their relationship, but these flowers are also connected to rebirth, and, according to Linda Muir, recall Orlok from his human life. Ellen is also deeply attracted to Orlok, and only him can understand and fulfill her, but she doesn’t know why. It’s unconscious.

“Yet I cannot be sated without you. Remember how once we were? A moment. Remember?”

In other post, I already discussed the use of the term "sated". Because Orlok (being from the late 16th century) speaks Old English; where this word is connected to the verb “sit”, as in “rest” or “lie”. What Orlok is actually saying is “I cannot rest without you”. Which makes sense with their covenant of being together ever-eternally. He can’t find peace in death without her.

Even the way Bill delivers this line “remember how once we were?” sounds haunted, and a profound yearning and desperation, almost, for her to remember something very old. To me, this is most likely one of those “vulnerable moments” inspired by Orlok’s backstory Robert Eggers was talking about in interviews.

“Remember?”

The option that makes more sense with Ellen and Orlok in “Nosferatu” (2024) is the myth of strigoi coming back to have sex with their widows until they died of excess of intercourse; which is exactly what happens at the end. And the sound design even made sure we, the audience, heard the penetration. Is this the reason why?

But then we have the idea that Eggers mentions twice: what kind of trauma, pain and violence is so great that even death cannot stop it? What is the dark trauma that doesn't die when someone dies?

In “Nosferatu”, it’s Ellen who resurrects Orlok. It’s her sadness, loneliness and sexual awakening which brings him back from the dead. So, can this “trauma” be related to Ellen’s soul, herself? She’s the protagonist, and this is her story. The emotions we are dealing with at the prologue (inspired by Orlok’s backstory, according to Robert Eggers) are; deep loneliness, without a companion to give her comfort and tenderness. And even sexual desire. As a result she resurrects Orlok with her black magic prayer (necromancy).

He also calls her enchantress; and he was a enchanter in life. And indeed, Ellen displays insane spiritual power in this film; Herr Knock needs to assemble a whole ritual room to communicate with Orlok, and she doesn’t need any of that. Which might indicate, she was an actual enchantress in her past life; probably a Şolomonari like Orlok himself. Von Franz does say she could have been a “great priestess” in Pagan times.

We have a lot of Sex Magick in this film (pretty much every Şolomonari ritual is a Sex Magick ritual here). Which, again, can imply it was their “thing” in a past life, too, because their relationship is very sexual and passionate, which is probably how they were, previously, since they both have high sex drives (and this is what Orlok asks her to remember). Orlok the high priest, and Ellen the high priestess. Two freaks in the sheets (and probably in the streets too, Ellen appears to enjoy the outdoors). We are told she has a deep knowledge of the shadow side of life, after all, and she’s an outsider and completely misunderstood (except by Orlok and Von Franz).

Him being a demonic creature, means he cannot love her now (even though Eggers is also making a difference between Thomas (love) and Orlok (passion)), it doesn’t mean he didn’t love her in the past. Especially since this is a direct reference to the “Dracula” novel where one of the bride accuses Dracula of not being able to love, to which he answers; “Yes, I too can love. You yourselves can tell it from the past. Is it not so?” This can indicate that Orlok did love her in their human past life (or lives, even), and fiercely, deeply so.

Searching for clues in Orlok’s castle scenes with Thomas (I already talked about the multiple sarcophagus in the crypt in the other post), Orlok attacks him in a bedroom, and in a double bed, meant for a couple, and it has two pillows (unlike the Victorian couples here, who have separate single beds). Even at the end, Ellen and Orlok are joined in one bed, Ellen’s bed.

Since this was also a Sex Magick ritual to divorce him from Ellen in the spiritual realm, doing it in this specific bedroom (that Orlok selected for him in advance), doesn’t seem random. Maybe this was Orlok’s and Ellen’s bedroom? And she even makes an appearance here.

But Orlok’s soul did not “ascend” (sort of speak), because he says he was in the “darkest pit” as a “loathsome beast”. And, again, in Old English, “loathsome” has another meaning, connected to “grievous”, as in “grief”. He was in some sort of limbo, and when Ellen called out, he returned to his former body, and became a strigoi. So, their emotions match, at the prologue. And if Ellen is a reincarnation of Orlok’s wife or lover, this means her soul moved on to the next life, and his didn’t; causing their further separation. Which can be the explanation on why Orlok is so obsessed in getting her soul this time around; for them not to be apart, again.

And, if we follow this logic, he probably died before she did, in their past life. And that trauma endured on her soul. She probably tried to resurrect him in past, as well? Or was it the other way around? Either way, someone died first, probably in a tragic and violent way and it caused a huge trauma on their souls, for both of them. Since “sex and death” are the core themes here, it’s not unlikely to find them in these characters backstories, too, I would say.

And can this separation of souls create such pain and a trauma so dark it created an actual monster to bring plague and death upon civilization because of their yearning of being united, once again?

Ellen is also said to be “promised” and “fated” to Orlok. Even Von Franz says to Thomas “in vain, you ran in vain. You cannot out-run her destiny!” Is Ellen’s fate to break the curse (she put on him, herself) or for her soul to be united with Orlok’s for all eternity?

In my original post I talked about the hypothesis of human Orlok being among the boyar rebels supporters of Balthasar Báthory for the throne of Transylvania, and was arrested for treason and strangled in prison (he obviously wasn’t beheaded), in 1593. We also have a woman and accusations of witchcraft as retaliation for the death of these noblemen. This in the midst of religious turmoil between Protestants and Catholics (with Balthasar Báthory being on the Protestant side).

This hypothesis checks a lot of boxes; the dates we have for Orlok (1580-1590s; late 16th century); the age Robert Eggers says he is, at the time of his death (55-years-old); offers an explanation for his “asmatic” speech, Eggers was very particular about (his vocal chords are damaged); and fits the prologue (where Orlok “strangles” Ellen, when he reveals himself).

This would also fit the "revenge on Christian civilization" subtext of Orlok as a plague carrier, bringing death and destruction to the Christian West. Them being separated because of a Christian conflict, and Orlok executed at the orders of a Catholic prince, would add layers of “dark trauma” to this.

Count Orlok bust by Prosthetics and Make-up designer, David White; his neck does appear damaged.

At the prologue, we also have a sexual encounter (masturbation), in a garden of lilacs. And at the end, lilacs are placed by Von Franz around their bodies, symboling their return to their garden. Which is another connection to Orlok’s human backstory, further strengthening the reincarnation theme.

The last shot of the film (while being “Death and the maiden” motif) is also reminiscent of the ending of “Bram Stoker’s Dracula” by Francis Ford Coppola, where Vlad soul ascends to join Elisabeta’s. In "Nosferatu" (2024) it's both, Orlok and Ellen's souls ascending, together, finally united, which makes way more sense with the reincarnation theme.

#Nosferatu 2024 #count Orlok 2024 #count Orlok 2024 backstory #Robert Eggers #Ellen Hutter 2024 #nosferatu 2024 interview #bill skarsgård

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oopsiedaisydeer · 2 days ago

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ɴᴏ ᴘᴇᴇᴋɪɴɢ

…𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘣𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘢!𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘩!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘧𝘵. 𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘯

It’s just after school when Matt finds Goldie by her locker. He can’t help but linger, hands shoved in his pockets, trying to buy himself time to figure out how to say something casually. His feet shift on the worn linoleum, as he half-listens to her talk about her day. There’s a quiet kind of pressure in his chest, like he’s holding his breath, unsure how to let it out.

It’s stupid, really. Why does he feel like this? It’s just Goldie. She’s just… Goldie. And yet, something about the thought of asking her over feels bigger than it should.

Matt hadn’t planned on inviting her. Not really. The thought lingers somewhere in the back of his mind, like a song he can’t quite remember the lyrics to, but it only slips out as she closes the locker door.

She observes him from the corner of her eye… hands in his pockets, eyes on the scuffed tile floor like he’s debating saying anything at all. She doesn’t push, just lets the silence linger, stretching like seafoam thinning against the shore.

"Do you, um," He exhales sharply, shoving his fingers through his hair. "Wanna come over later? For a movie or something. I got ramen. The good kind."

She blinks, not because she’s surprised, though she is, a little, but because the idea of stepping into Matt’s world, past the cliffs and the walks home and the sun-bleached edges of their conversations, feels... significant.

He feels his pulse pick up. Did that sound okay? Was that too much?

Goldie doesn’t say anything right away. She just smiles that small, knowing smile, and it makes his chest tighten in a way he can’t fully explain. He tries to cover it up by looking anywhere but her.

“You got the good kind?" she echoes, grinning. "That’s a big claim."

His mouth quirks at the corner. "Would I lie?"

Her grin grows, and he feels like he might actually be able to breathe again.

“There’s this movie,” he adds, adjusting the strap of his bag, trying not to fidget. “Thought you might like it.” The words come out easier now, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as her.

Goldie’s eyes flick up from the little doodles on her notebook that she drew earlier, interest sparking. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Matt swallows. “You could come over. If you want.”

Goldie smiles, a quiet thing, but she doesn’t make him wait for an answer. “Okay.”

And just like that, the knot in his chest loosens, but the feeling lingers. The weight of what he almost said, of what he didn’t... of what they both probably already know but haven’t said out loud.

And that’s how they end up here, cross-legged on the floor of Matt’s room, the glow of his old TV flickering against the walls. He’s already got water boiling in the kitchen, the light catching on the steam as he rifles through a cabinet.

"No peeking," he says when she tries to glance over his shoulder.

Goldie rolls her eyes but obediently turns away, wandering toward the small TV in the living room. A stack of DVDs sits on the table... old animated films, some classics, a few she doubts would be her cup of tea.

"Alright," Matt calls after a few minutes. "Close your eyes, Goldie."

She laughs. "What?"

"Just do it."

She does, crossing her arms as she hears him moving around, the sound of bowls being set down and chopsticks clicking together. Then, finally:

"Okay. Open."

She cracks an eye open, then the other, staring down at the bowl he’s placed down. Ramen—steaming, golden broth, soft-boiled egg, a neat little pile of scallions. And tucked right in the middle, a slice of ham.

Her breath catches, just for a second.

"Matt."

He shrugs, sitting down beside her with his own bowl. "Thought you’d like some ham."

Something warm settles in her chest, nestled between nostalgia and something new. She doesn't say anything, just picks up her chopsticks and takes a careful sip, the heat curling into her like a tide rolling in.

Beside her, Matt leans back against the couch, eyes flicking between Goldie and the TV screen as the opening credits begin to roll.

Goldie picks up the DVD cover and squints at it. “Sooo what is this?”

Matt shrugs, fighting the urge to say too much. “It’s a comedy. Action. Cult classic.”

Her lips curl into a smile, but there’s a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “I’m interested. But, just so you know, I’ve seen a lot of movies.”

Matt grins, feeling a spark of mischief. “We’ll see.”

Goldie smiles, just a little, tilting her head, and lets the movie play.

As it does, Matt watches her more than the screen, her genuine amusement filling the room like a warm, quiet storm. She doesn’t even try to hide the way she’s leaning forward, completely absorbed by how absurd it is.

When Goldie goes to pick up her chopsticks at one point, her fingers brush against Matt’s. She pauses for a moment, her cheeks warming at the unexpected contact, and she clumsily adjusts her grip, carefully setting the chopsticks back down. It’s a small, almost imperceptible moment, but for Goldie, whose fingers are usually busy with some new craft, it feels different somehow. She gives a quiet laugh to herself, brushing it off, but the flutter in her chest stays with her for a few beats before she looks back at the screen.

The scene on the screen in front of her is so ridiculous that Goldie bursts into laughter, the sound warm and genuine, making Matt feel a little lighter too. Her laughter lingers in the space between them, the way her shoulders shake and her hair bounces slightly as she laughs. He can’t help but chuckle with her, the moment comfortable but a little charged. When they both quiet down, their eyes meet and hold for just a heartbeat longer than usual. Goldie’s smile is small but soft, and Matt’s gaze is steady but not quite as guarded as usual, the space between them feeling a little more open now.

After a particularly ridiculous sequence involving a helicopter being used as a makeshift ramp for a car chase, Goldie lets out another laugh that’s half incredulous, half delighted. She turns to Matt with wide eyes. “Okay. I admit defeat. I did not expect this.”

Matt’s grin softens, his heart skipping a beat at the way her laughter fills the room. “I knew you’d like it.”

Goldie huffs a little, clearly entertained, but there’s something else there now… a shift in the air between them. The movie’s absurdity has somehow pulled them closer, both in their shared enjoyment and in the quiet way they now seem to understand each other, in a way that hasn’t quite been said out loud yet.

Outside, the waves have calmed.

thank u rose for the dividers ! @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: ham. second to last fluffy thing before true angst sets in. please send me asks abt these two 🫶🏻

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @shadowthesim237 comment to be added/removed from this au's taglist!

cya next time!!!

#inez˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🌿:✧˚#inez ff ˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🌿:✧˚#ponyo!au𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 #goldfish!reader 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒#cliffbythesea!matt 𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🫧#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt x reader #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff

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useless-catalanfacts · 4 hours ago

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Re the ask about whether pro-Catalan/independence supporters tend to be left-wing, weirdly I've had Spaniards try to convince me that pro-Catalanism/independence is a right-wing movement, but they've never been able to take that further than a bald assertion -- it sounds more like a thought-terminating cliché, and it doesn't square with anything I've seen as an outsider.

Depends on who you ask, Catalans are stereotyped in opposite ways. Speaking Catalan or having a Catalan accent makes us "villagers", "poor and uneducated", and "stupid farmers" until it's the left wing who wants to criticize us, then Catalan makes us "bourgeois" and "never worked a day in their life" and "Catalonia was a flat land with nothing until Spanish people arrived and worked to build it". Catalan is "basically dead", "nobody even speaks it anymore", "it's only spoken by elderly people in villages and everyone else hates it and hates to be associated with it" but when it's more convenient it's "all-powerful", "if you don't speak Catalan they mistreat you", "everyone speaks Catalan all the time just to exclude Spanish speakers". Catalan independence is a "radical anti-capitalist extremist movement full of terrorists" and often gets mixed with "anarchist terrorists" until the person who wants to criticize it would think that's cool, then it's a "right-wing movement based on greed". Everything always has two completely opposite stereotypes, which allows them to criticize without having to actually listen to our experiences or what we have to say, they can decide simply based on their prejudiced beliefs.

They right-wing stereotype is a newer one, it started gaining popularity about 15 years ago at most and lots of Spanish nationalists have been obsessed with it since, even going as far as trying to fund a right-wing Catalan independence movement into existence. It's very strange because it comes out of nowhere, they're just obsessed with wanting it to become true because that would make their argument easy. Catalan people have always (for centuries) been stereotyped as greedy merchants (think the Jewish stereotype, in Spain many of the "jokes" that in English are "a Jewish man does x" in Spanish they're exactly the same word by word but with a Catalan instead; in fact in the 1900s in Spain there was a significant movement of antisemitic Spanish "intellectuals" who argued that Catalan people are "racially Semites") and this stereotyped is deeply believed in by many people in Spain. Thus, it's very easy to wave off pro-independence concerns with "ah see but it's just that they're being greedy! The whole point of independence is that they're secretly rich and don't want to share!". This is an easy way to make Spanish people not need to listen and rethink their prejudices, because holding on to the prejudices is seen as somehow "sticking it to the power", and it breaks leftist solidarity.

An example of how this belief manifests is some of the tweets posted by the Spanish actress Karla Sofía Gascón (the main actress in Emilia Pérez movie):

Translation from Spanish:

1. I'm following the NASA press conference. There's water in Mars. Wow! Luckily NASA aren't Catalans, they would have kept it to themselves.

2. They invited a Catalan pro-independence man to a wedding and he ended up eating alone in a corner, he couldn't stand seeing food be shared with all the guests.

She was literally tweeting about imagined hypothetical horrible Catalan people she imagined. These people aren't real, this didn't happen, she just wanted to talk shit of Catalan people based on stereotypes. (There's another tweet by her calling Catalan independentists Nazi rats and saying she hopes we all die or rot in prison, which is not directly the stereotype we're talking about here but it goes to show where these beliefs end up taking the person who has them).

These aren't unusual and the only reason I'm pulling them out as examples is because she's a famous person and I think it's a better example than random people, but this is a widely-held belief in Spain. It doesn't make sense to paint a whole culture like this, and if we were to look for any clues I think we would find all the opposite, solidarity has always been very important in Catalan culture (like in most cultures throughout history!).

#ask

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bybobbysbeard · 3 days ago

Text

Clever and Beloved

Day 6 for @bucktommyfluffebruary: stargazing. read on ao3 read other days here

Roughly halfway between Las Vegas and Los Angeles, along historic Route 66, is a dormant volcano.

It's called the Amboy Crater. At 250 feet tall, the basaltic cone stands like a sentinel, high above the surrounding lava field. The Crater is a national landmark, protected by the State of California. There’s a paved road, a parking lot, even bathrooms. The trail to hike up and into the crater is rated moderately difficult, and takes the average visitor one and a half hours. If it was daylight, Buck could stand on the rim and see for miles and miles.

It’s also an unofficial Dark Sky site.

Buck knows all this, because when Tommy told him the Perseids meteor shower was peaking this week, he immediately started researching. A few Wikipedia deep-dives later, he knows what the Perseids are (debris left behind by Comet Swift-Tuttle), who Swift and Tuttle were (two separate astronomers who discovered the comet three days apart in 1862), why the Perseids are called that (they appear to originate out of the Perseus constellation), and who Perseus was. Of course, that sent him into Greek mythology.

He rambled the whole drive. About King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia, who boasted that Princess Andromeda was more beautiful than Poseidon’s daughters. About the sea serpent Cetus, sent by an enraged Poseidon to destroy their kingdom. About the beautiful princess, sacrificed on the altar of her parent’s pride. And Perseus the demigod. Clever and beloved by the gods, blessed with Hermes’ sandals, and Athena’s shield. He killed Medusa, and used her head to save Andromeda. In doing so, he won her heart. Or at least, her hand in marriage.

Tommy had listened to every word and smiled that scrunchy smile. He laughed at Buck’s commentary, and told him they had several movies of questionable quality to watch. He was looking forward to Buck pointing out all the inaccuracies.

So, here they are. Stretched out in the bed of Tommy’s truck, pressed together from shoulder to ankle. Tommy has one arm tucked behind his head, staring up at the Milky Way wheeling overhead. His other hand is tangled up with Buck’s, calloused thumb stroking over his knuckles.

A meteor streaks across the sky. For less than a second, there’s a line of blue-green fire, magnesium and ice igniting in a flash. Buck blinks the after-effects away.

It’s August, but it’s late, nearing midnight. Neither of them have shifts tomorrow, and they’re both used to strange hours, so driving out to the middle of the Mojave after a late dinner on a random Tuesday isn’t as irresponsible as it sounds. Buck snuggles down into the sleeping bag beneath them and pulls the fleece blanket higher up his chest.

8 years in California and he still forgets how cold the desert can get at night.

Of course, Tommy notices his fussing. He tilts his head to catch Buck’s eye. “Alright?”

Another meteor burns overheard; friction overcoming the chill of deep space. This one flares out, a white fireball at the end of its trajectory. Catchlights scatter like sparks as the bright flame reflects in Tommy’s eyes.

“Should’ve brought another blanket.”

“I can help with that. C’mere.” He sits up, urging Buck onto his knees so he can bunch the sleeping bag up against the truck's rear window. There’s some awkward shuffling, lit only by the light of the stars and the occasional meteoric flash.

His boyfriend ends up slouched against the truck, half upright, spreading denim-clad legs and guiding Buck to recline between them. Tommy straightens out the blanket with a snap of his wrists, letting it drift down over them gently. He tucks the top corners in around Buck’s shoulders and worms his own arms underneath the fleece to wrap around Buck’s torso. Warm fingers brush down Buck’s sleeves, finding his hands and directing their shared grasp into the front pocket of his hoodie.

It’s cozy. Intimate and practical, the exact mix he’s come to expect from Tommy. He’s instantly warmer, heated through by the feel of Tommy’s chest against his shoulders, his hips bracketed by muscular thighs. Big hands curl over his inside his sweater. Their fingers slot together, rough knuckles and scarred hands, warming the little pocket of air and resting on Buck's stomach. He feels surrounded and protected. Cherished, in a way that no other partner has ever made him feel. Buck lets himself relax, going boneless in Tommy’s lap. His arms tighten, almost a hug, reaching that perfect, grounding pressure that sends serotonin surging in his brain.

Buck could stay here forever. Until the meteor shower is over, until the sun comes up, until the heat of the desert melts them into the sand below.

Tommy shifts behind him, pressing the chilled tip of his nose to the back of Buck’s neck. “That better?”

The next meteor bursts into light, shooting towards the Earth. A short tail, in bright, vibrant yellow-orange. Iron and sodium. Perseus stands on the horizon, reaching up towards his queen, Andromeda.

“That’s perfect.”

#bucktommyfluffebruary #bucktommy #tevan #my fic #911 abc #✨two days behind✨

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crazylittlejester · 1 day ago

Note

I'm having a really shitty day, do you have any fluffy headcanons of the modern au Links? It doesn't have to be anyone in particular, I love them all (sorry if this is demanding, you can ignore this if you want to /gen)

i gotchu anon, im sorry to hear your day hasn’t been going well i hope you feel better 💙💙💙

- Twi is strong enough to hold (for brief periods of time at least) all of the dogs on the ranch, none of them are too heavy for him, so if they’re in the mood to be “lap dogs”, he can absolutely hold and cuddle them. Wolfie in particular loves to be held, and Twi will carry that dog around like a puppy because he loves him so so so so much and he gives him so many kisses and talks to him like a toddler. and Wolfie is obsessed with every second of it

- when War isn’t feeling good, mentally or physically, he’ll flop face down on his floor and his cat Tara will come sit by him and rub her head against his jaw until he picks her up and goes to his bed. Sometimes when its more of a mental health bad day he’ll call Wild and Wild will come over and make sure he eats something and just be there near him for as long as he needs (War does the same for him when he needs it)

- Sky loves to carve little birds for his girlfriend but he’ll also make little goats for Twi and little cats for War. Both of the boys have all the little figures Sky has made them on their desks so they can look at them

- Sky stress bakes because cooking is something that makes him feel calm and happy, so whenever he’s stressed out their apartment smells INCREDIBLE, and then he feels better by the end of it AND theres a delicious meal. Sometimes he’ll end up making more food than he, Twi, and War can reasonably eat so they’ll invite Legend and Hyrule up

- War’s cat Milo has a love for kitchen counters and so when Sky’s cooking and Milo is inevitably on the damn counter, Sky will call him “Chef” and say things like “Well we have to get the milk now, Chef Milo” as if the cat is going to help him open the fridge. Sky also sings/hums to himself as he cooks and Will end up singing/humming to the cat

- Twi goes through some pretty low lows with his mental health and sometimes he doesn’t have the energy to speak, but he’ll come silently sit next to War or Sky somewhere in the apartment and thats how the others know he’s looking for a little extra love so War will usually give him a cat to hold and they’ll watch a movie

- Every time War slips on a patch of ice on the pavement Twi makes fun of him because “mr world champion figure skater slips on patch of ice” will never NOT be funny to him, and War will hit/kick at his ankles until he falls down too

- Groose will sometimes send Sky texts like “haha fuck you, you loser, i caught this really cool ass bug and you dont have one of these” and Sky, out of sheer spite, will drop literally everything he is doing, go to the city park, and search for a cooler looking bug so he can respond with “FUCK YOU” and a 0.5 of whatever bug he found. This has gotten him out of bed on days where he was too depressed to move, this has made him go outside and walk around when he really REALLY needed it, because somehow Groose always knows when a good 30 minutes of looking in the dirt for bugs will be good for Sky and he always feels better afterwards

- War took Sky and Twilight skating once, led them both out into the middle of the rink, and then sped away, leaving both of them in varying degrees of distress. Sky was able to figure things out and get back to the edge, but Twi just stood there like a baby deer on a frozen pond (if either of them expressed being GENUINELY upset and scared, War would’ve gotten them immediately)

- Every so often they’ll have “sleepovers” where they all drag their shit into either War’s bedroom or the living room and watch movies until they fall asleep together on the floor/War’s bed. The cats join them every time

#jes ask #jes’s miscellaneous modern au

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amethystarachnid · 2 days ago

Note

If you promise us a happy ending, I'm okay with a angst part 3 hahahahah a breakup would be nice. The boy needs to move into another place, Tony being the most supportive and cute dad ❤️

CHRISTMAS MORNING - part III

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.9k

ᯓ★ Summary: first love heart break is rough, but nothing a trip to Paris can't resolve

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ Part I | Part II

ᯓ★ Prequel

ᯓ★ maybe a prequel to let you know how Tony and y/n ended up with four kids? 🤭, just wanna focus some more on the two of them before the kids

ᯓ★ Tony Taglist: @groovy-lady

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Summer turns to fall, and Cora and Ryan’s relationship becomes a steady part of family life. By now, Ryan is a regular visitor to the house. Though Tony still maintains his “watchful dad” persona, he’s noticeably relaxed around Ryan, occasionally sharing a sarcastic comment or offering him a soda without much fuss. You’ve even caught Tony grumbling about the boy’s taste in music—not exactly glowing approval, but close enough.

Cora, meanwhile, is glowing in a way you’ve never seen before. She’s still her fiercely independent self, but there’s a new softness about her—she’s less quick to snap, more patient with her siblings, and her happiness is infectious. Except, of course, when it comes to Alex and Howard.

The twins, ever the chaos-makers, have taken their jealousy of Ryan to theatrical levels.

“Cora doesn’t love us anymore,” Alex announces one afternoon as you’re folding laundry in the living room.

“She just loves him,” Howard chimes in dramatically, lying face-down on the carpet like his world has ended.

You glance up from the socks you’re sorting and try not to laugh. “That’s not true, and you know it. Cora loves you very much.”

“Then why doesn’t she play with us anymore?” Alex demands, sitting up with a pout.

“She used to build forts with us,” Howard adds, now rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling like a tragic hero in a Shakespearean play. “Now she just texts him all the time.”

“Boys,” you say gently, sitting down beside them. “Cora’s growing up. That doesn’t mean she loves you any less. She’s just figuring out who she is and spending time with someone who makes her happy. But you’ll always be her little brothers, okay?”

“Yeah, but we don’t like him,” Alex mutters.

“You barely know him,” you point out.

“We don’t have to know him to not like him,” Howard says stubbornly.

Before you can respond, Estelle toddles into the room, dragging a blanket behind her. She climbs onto your lap without a word and leans against you, her thumb in her mouth.

“See?” you say, wrapping an arm around Estelle. “Even when Cora’s busy, you’ve got each other—and us.”

The twins don’t look entirely convinced, but they nod reluctantly.

Later that evening, while the kids are occupied with a movie, you and Tony find a rare quiet moment together in the kitchen. He’s leaning against the counter, sipping a glass of wine, while you finish tidying up.

“They’re really laying it on thick, huh?” Tony says, smirking as he recalls the twins’ earlier dramatics.

“They’re jealous,” you reply, rinsing the last dish. “They miss her, and they don’t know how to say it without turning it into a production.”

Tony sets his glass down and crosses the room, wrapping his arms around you from behind. “Well, they’d better get used to it. She’s not a kid anymore. And I’m pretty sure Ryan’s sticking around.”

You lean back against him, savoring the warmth of the moment. “You really think so?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I still want to give the kid the third degree every time I see him,” Tony says with a chuckle. “But yeah, he’s not bad. And she’s happy. That’s what matters, right?”

You turn to face him, resting your hands on his chest. “You’re a good dad, you know that?”

“Don’t let that get around,” he says, grinning as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

Just then, Estelle toddles into the kitchen, clutching a stuffed animal in one hand and rubbing her eyes with the other.

“Mommy,” she says sleepily.

You scoop her up, kissing her chubby cheek. “What are you doing out of bed, little one?”

“Can’t sleep,” she murmurs, resting her head on your shoulder.

Tony reaches out to brush a strand of hair from her face, his expression softening in that way it always does when he looks at her. “Come on, princess,” he says. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

He takes her from your arms and carries her upstairs, humming a soft tune as she curls against his chest. You follow a few steps behind, watching the way he cradles her with the kind of tenderness that still catches you off guard sometimes.

Back downstairs, the twins are sprawled on the couch, fast asleep by the time the credits roll. Cora is in her room, probably texting Ryan, and the house feels peaceful in a way that’s rare but cherished.

Over the next few weeks, the twins continue to grumble about Ryan, but their protests lose some of their bite. They still don’t love the idea of sharing Cora’s attention, but they’re slowly coming to terms with it.

One Saturday, Cora surprises everyone by joining the twins for a game of basketball in the driveway. Ryan is nowhere in sight, and the boys are thrilled to have their big sister back, even if only for an hour. You watch from the porch with Tony, sipping coffee as the three of them laugh and bicker over the rules.

“See?” you say, nudging Tony with your elbow. “They’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, though his gaze lingers on Cora a little longer. “But I reserve the right to be overprotective forever.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” you reply, leaning against him.

It’s late afternoon when the front door opens, and you hear the unmistakable sound of Cora’s school bag dropping onto the floor. Usually, this is accompanied by her calling out, “Hey, I’m home!” or the sound of her heading to the kitchen for a snack. But today, it’s eerily quiet.

You glance up from the stack of papers you’re sorting at the dining table, your instincts immediately on alert. Tony, who’s tinkering with something small and metallic at the kitchen counter, notices too.

“Cora?” you call, standing.

Then you hear it—soft, muffled sobs coming from the living room. You’re moving before you even think, Tony right behind you.

You find her sitting on the couch, her knees pulled up to her chest, her face buried in her arms. Her whole body shakes with the force of her tears, and it feels like someone’s reached into your chest and squeezed your heart.

“Sweetheart?” you say softly, sitting down beside her.

Tony freezes for a moment, his eyes wide with panic as he takes in the sight of his usually strong, confident daughter falling apart. “What happened? Who hurt you? Tell me right now, and I’ll deal with it,” he says, his voice already edging toward anger.

Cora looks up, her face streaked with tears, and shakes her head. “No one hurt me, Dad.”

“Then what’s wrong?” you ask gently, brushing her hair out of her face.

She tries to speak, but her voice cracks, and a fresh wave of tears spills over.

Tony, clearly struggling to stay calm, sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. “Cora, you’re scaring me here. Just tell us what’s going on.”

After a moment, she takes a shaky breath and manages to get the words out. “Ryan… Ryan’s moving to London.”

Your heart sinks. “Oh, sweetheart…”

Tony blinks, his initial panic giving way to confusion. “London? Like… England London?”

Cora nods, wiping at her eyes. “His dad got a job there. They’re leaving in a month.”

“And what does that mean for you two?” Tony asks, though he already looks like he knows the answer.

Cora swallows hard, her voice trembling. “He… He said we should break up. He doesn’t want to do long distance.”

Tony’s jaw tightens, his fists clenching on his knees. “That little—”

“Tony,” you say sharply, cutting him off. “This isn’t about you wanting to punch a teenager.”

“Why not?” he mutters under his breath, but he backs down.

Cora lets out a shaky sigh. “It’s not his fault. He doesn’t think it’ll work, and… maybe he’s right. But it hurts so much.”

“Oh, honey,” you say, pulling her into a hug. She collapses against you, her sobs muffled against your shoulder.

Tony’s expression softens as he watches her, and he reaches out to squeeze her hand. “He’s an idiot if he thinks he’s not going to miss you every day. You’re amazing, Cora. Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise.”

Before she can respond, there’s a small sound from the hallway. You turn to see Estelle standing there, clutching her favorite plushie—a well-loved bunny with one floppy ear. Her wide eyes take in the scene, and she hesitates for a moment before toddling over to the couch.

“Cowa sad?” she asks, her voice tiny and uncertain.

Cora sniffles and sits up a little, trying to wipe her tears away. “I’m okay, Estelle.”

But Estelle isn’t convinced. She climbs onto the couch beside her sister, her little face scrunched up with concern. Without a word, she holds out her bunny.

“Bun-bun make you happy,” she says solemnly.

Cora’s breath catches, and for a moment, she looks like she might start crying again—but this time, for an entirely different reason. She takes the plushie with trembling hands and pulls Estelle into a hug.

“Thank you, Stellie,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion.

Tony watches the scene unfold, his usual snark and bravado nowhere to be found. He looks at you, and you can see the helplessness in his eyes. He hates seeing any of his kids in pain, and knowing there’s nothing he can do to fix it is clearly killing him.

Later, after you’ve managed to convince Cora to eat a little something and Estelle is back to playing with her toys, you find Tony in the garage. He’s pacing, running his hands through his hair, and muttering to himself.

“Tony,” you say gently, stepping into the room.

He stops and looks at you, his expression a mix of frustration and sadness. “I hate this. I hate that she’s hurting, and I can’t do anything about it.”

“I know,” you say, wrapping your arms around him. “But she doesn’t need you to fix it. She just needs you to be there for her.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” he admits, his voice quiet. “I’m not good at this kind of stuff.”

“You’re better at it than you think,” you tell him, resting your head against his chest. “Just keep showing up. That’s all she needs.”

Over the next few days, Cora starts to open up a little more. She talks about the memories she and Ryan made together, the inside jokes they shared, and the plans they’d dreamed of before the news of his move.

The twins, thankfully, are oblivious to the situation for the time being. They’re too busy with basketball practice and their latest obsession with building the tallest block towers they can manage. You’re grateful for the reprieve—it gives Cora space to grieve without their constant questions and commentary.

One evening, as you’re tucking Estelle into bed, she looks up at you with her big, curious eyes.

“Cowa okay now?” she asks.

You smile softly and brush her hair back. “She’s getting there, sweetie. Thanks to you and Bun-bun.”

Estelle nods, satisfied, and snuggles deeper into her blankets.

By the end of the week, Cora seems a little stronger. She still has moments where the pain hits her all over again, but she’s beginning to smile and laugh more often. Tony even manages to get her to join him for a round of Mario Kart, and the sound of her laughter fills the house like a balm for everyone’s hearts.

“She’s going to be okay,” you tell Tony one night as you’re lying in bed.

“Yeah,” he says, though his voice is still tinged with sadness. “But it’s going to take time.”

And so, as a family, you give her all the time she needs, surrounding her with love, support, and the occasional inappropriate dad joke to remind her that she’s never alone.

The chaos starts one evening during dinner. The twins are unusually quiet, their usual chatter about basketball, school antics, and random “fun facts” replaced by curious glances toward Cora. She’s sitting at the table, picking at her plate of pasta with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. The sparkle she usually carries has dimmed a bit since the breakup, though she’s been doing her best to mask it.

“Hey, Cora,” Alex pipes up, breaking the silence. “Where’s Ryan? He hasn’t come over in forever.”

Howard nods, his mouth full. “Yeah, didn’t he say he’d bring us that big bag of caramel popcorn? He never did.”

You can see the subtle flinch in Cora’s shoulders before she glances at you, silently pleading for help. Tony immediately stiffens, his protective instincts on high alert as he watches the exchange unfold.

“Guys,” you say gently, “Ryan… isn’t coming over anymore.”

The twins pause mid-bite, their synchronized reactions almost comical.

“What? Why?” Alex demands, his tone filled with disbelief.

Howard narrows his eyes. “Did he do something to you, Cora? Because if he did, we’ll—”

“No!” Cora cuts in quickly, setting down her fork. “It’s nothing like that. He’s moving to London, and we broke up.”

The twins blink, processing this new information. Then, as if on cue, they both push their plates away and hop off their chairs.

“Unacceptable,” Alex declares, his hands balling into fists.

“Totally unacceptable,” Howard echoes, his expression darkening. “He can’t just dump you and move to London like that!”

“It’s not his fault,” Cora says, though her voice is tinged with frustration. “He doesn’t want to do long distance, and we both agreed it was for the best.”

“That’s a bad excuse,” Alex snaps, pacing back and forth.

“He’s a coward,” Howard adds. “And cowards don’t deserve you, Cora!”

Before you or Tony can intervene, Estelle, who has been sitting quietly in her high chair, suddenly pipes up in her tiny, serious voice.

“Coward don’t deserve Cowa,” she says, mimicking Howard’s words almost perfectly.

Tony chokes on his water, and you nearly drop your fork.

“Estelle,” you say, trying not to laugh. “Sweetie, you don’t even know what that means.”

“Coward,” Estelle repeats, crossing her arms like her brothers, as if she fully understands the weight of her declaration.

“See? Even Stellie gets it!” Alex says, gesturing dramatically to his baby sister.

“We should punch him,” Howard announces, his face set in a grim expression.

“Punch him,” Estelle echoes, holding up her tiny fist.

At that, Tony finally snaps out of his stunned silence and stands up, waving his hands in front of him. “Okay, okay, let’s pump the brakes here. Nobody’s punching anyone.”

“Why not?” Alex asks, glaring up at his dad.

“And anyway,” Howard adds, “Ryan hurt Cora. Isn’t that worse?”

“Guys,” you say firmly, stepping in before this spirals any further, “violence isn’t the answer. And Ryan didn’t hurt Cora—he made a difficult decision, and sometimes relationships just don’t work out. It’s no one’s fault.”

“But Cora’s sad,” Alex says, his lower lip jutting out in a rare display of vulnerability.

“We don’t like seeing her like this,” Howard agrees.

Cora, who’s been quietly watching the whole exchange, finally speaks up. “I appreciate you guys wanting to defend me, but I don’t need anyone to fight my battles. I’m okay, really.”

“You don’t seem okay,” Alex mumbles.

“She’s just figuring it out,” you say softly, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “And the best thing you can do is support her and be there when she needs you.”

The twins exchange a look, clearly reluctant to let the matter drop.

“We still don’t like him,” Howard mutters as he sits back down.

“Yeah,” Alex adds. “And we’re never eating caramel popcorn again.”

At that, Estelle solemnly pushes her sippy cup away and declares, “No popcorn.”

Tony snorts, shaking his head as he sits back down. “You’re really digging in on this, huh?”

“Someone has to,” Alex says with a dramatic sigh.

The rest of dinner is a little quieter, though the twins occasionally shoot pointed glances at Cora, as if they’re still plotting how to avenge her heartbreak. Estelle, meanwhile, alternates between eating her mashed potatoes and mimicking the twins’ exaggerated arm-crossing stance, clearly enjoying the attention.

Later, as you’re tucking Estelle into bed, she looks up at you with her wide, innocent eyes and asks, “Cowa happy now?”

You brush a strand of hair from her face and kiss her forehead. “She’s getting there, sweetie. Thanks to you and your brothers.”

Estelle smiles, snuggling into her blankets. “Okay. No popcorn.”

You stifle a laugh and tuck her in, leaving her room with a heart full of love for your fiercely protective little family.

Downstairs, you find Tony sitting on the couch, staring at the wall with a contemplative expression.

“You okay?” you ask, sitting beside him.

He lets out a long sigh. “I don’t know how you do it. Keeping them all from forming a vigilante squad and storming London.”

You laugh, leaning your head on his shoulder. “It’s a team effort.”

Tony wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer. “She’s going to be okay, right?”

“She will,” you say confidently. “She’s got us. And if that’s not enough, she’s got two little brothers and a baby sister ready to take on the world for her.”

Tony chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Yeah. That’s enough.”

It starts with little things, subtle and soft gestures to help lift Cora’s spirits. You and Tony both know she’s heartbroken—first loves are never easy to lose, and Ryan’s move to London had hit her harder than she wanted to admit. But you also know the kind of family she has. Stark resilience, wrapped in unconditional love, with just a sprinkle of chaos.

The effort begins the morning after the twins’ dramatic anti-Ryan declarations. Cora walks into the kitchen to find the twins at the breakfast table, uncharacteristically quiet. Estelle is perched in her high chair, clumsily holding a spoon as she tries to feed herself yogurt.

“Good morning,” Cora mumbles, still a little groggy.

“Morning!” Alex chirps, way too chipper for this early.

“Hi,” Howard says, looking suspiciously at his brother.

Cora narrows her eyes. “What are you two up to?”

“Nothing!” Alex says, but his grin gives him away.

Howard looks down at his plate, trying to look innocent but failing miserably. That’s when you step in from behind them, holding a plate of Cora’s favorite pancakes—chocolate chip, with extra whipped cream.

“We just thought you deserved a special breakfast,” you say, setting the plate in front of her.

Cora raises an eyebrow. “Okay, what’s the catch?”

“No catch!” Tony’s voice booms as he strides into the kitchen, dressed in a casual hoodie and jeans. “Just a family-wide campaign to cheer you up. Welcome to Operation Cora Smiles Again.”

Cora groans, though there’s a tiny flicker of amusement in her eyes. “You’re all ridiculous.”

“And you love us for it,” Tony says, dropping a kiss on the top of her head before grabbing his coffee.

Over the next few days, the “operation” goes into full swing. The twins take it upon themselves to invite Cora to all their activities, from basketball practice to board games, though their “invites” are mostly just them dragging her out of her room. Estelle toddles after her sister constantly, climbing into her lap during movie nights and insisting Cora help her with her coloring books.

Tony, of course, takes things to a whole new level.

One afternoon, he barges into the living room where you and Cora are sitting, her head on your shoulder as the two of you watch some feel-good rom-com. He’s holding his phone, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Ladies,” he announces, “pack your bags. We’re going to Paris.”

Cora sits up straight, her mouth falling open. “What?”

“You’ve always said you wanted to see the Louvre, right?” Tony says, grinning. “Well, I figured, what better way to distract you than with some world-class art and culture? Plus, croissants.”

“Are you serious?” Cora asks, still stunned.

“Dead serious,” Tony replies. “Private jet leaves in two days. Hope you’ve been brushing up on your French.”

“Dad, you can’t just—”

“Already booked it,” he interrupts, waving his phone. “Non-refundable. So you’re coming.”

Cora looks at you, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Mom?”

You shrug, smiling. “He’s not kidding. You might as well start picking out your outfits.”

She blinks a few times, then a slow smile spreads across her face. “Okay, fine. Paris sounds… amazing.”

Tony pumps his fist in victory, and you shake your head fondly.

When the day of the trip arrives, the excitement in the house is palpable. The twins are bouncing off the walls, thrilled at the idea of flying on the family’s private jet again. Estelle is too young to fully understand what’s happening but seems to pick up on the energy, clapping her hands and shouting, “Pawis!” every few minutes.

Cora, meanwhile, is quieter but visibly excited. She spends most of the flight flipping through a guidebook Tony had casually tossed her way, her mood lighter than it’s been in weeks.

Once you land in Paris, it’s like a whole new world opens up for her. The city is everything she’d imagined—bustling streets, beautiful architecture, and, of course, the Eiffel Tower. You and Tony make sure the kids experience all the highlights: boat rides along the Seine, macarons at a fancy patisserie, and a picnic at the Champs de Mars.

But the real highlight is the Louvre.

Walking through the museum, Cora is completely captivated. She takes her time studying each exhibit, her eyes wide with wonder as she absorbs the art and history. Tony stays close, his usual sarcasm dialed back as he watches her with pride.

At one point, she stops in front of the Mona Lisa, her expression thoughtful.

“It’s smaller than I thought it’d be,” she says.

Tony smirks. “Yeah, but it’s got personality. Kind of like someone else I know.”

Cora rolls her eyes but laughs, and it’s one of the first genuine laughs you’ve heard from her in a while.

By the time you return to the hotel that evening, everyone is exhausted but happy. The twins collapse onto their beds, and Estelle is already dozing off in your arms. Cora sits on the balcony, looking out at the city lights.

Tony joins her, leaning on the railing. “Feeling better?”

She nods, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yeah. Thanks, Dad. For all of this.”

He shrugs, though you can see the emotion in his eyes. “Anything for you, kid.”

When you join them, Tony wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. Together, the three of you watch the Eiffel Tower sparkle in the distance, a quiet moment of peace in the midst of everything.

The Paris trip continues to unravel in a blend of heartwarming family moments and the kind of chaos only a Stark family vacation could produce. It starts innocently enough as you all wander through the streets of Montmartre, the cobblestone pathways alive with music, street performers, and the scent of fresh pastries. Cora has perked up considerably since the museum visit, her mood lighter, her laughter more frequent.

But then there’s him.

It happens as the family pauses near a small café. You’re distracted, helping Estelle adjust the straps of her sunhat while Tony orders espressos, croissants, and a ridiculously overpriced cup of hot chocolate for the twins. Cora’s off to the side, flipping through postcards at a nearby vendor stand, when you notice a boy about her age approaching her.

He’s tall, with tousled dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and a confidence that screams “Parisian charm.” He says something in French, his voice lilting in a way that immediately draws Cora’s attention. She blushes, brushing her hair behind her ear as she responds—haltingly but gamely—in the French she’s been practicing since she knew about the trip.

Tony notices it too.

“What’s happening here?” he says, his tone shifting to dad mode as he steps closer, coffee cup in hand.

“Oh, relax,” you say, biting back a smile. “He’s just flirting with her.”

Tony narrows his eyes. “Flirting? In broad daylight? In front of me?”

“He probably doesn’t know you’re her dad,” you tease, leaning closer. “She does have my genes, after all.”

Tony smirks but doesn’t lose his focus on the boy. “Well, he’s about to find out.”

Before he can make a move, the twins return, each holding a baguette that’s nearly as big as they are. Alex squints at the scene unfolding by the postcards.

“Hey, who’s that guy talking to Cora?” he asks, his mouth full of bread.

“Probably her new boyfriend,” Howard says, grinning mischievously.

“Not helping,” Tony mutters.

“Let’s just give her some space,” you suggest, tugging gently on his arm. “She’s allowed to talk to boys, you know.”

Tony sighs but relents, though he keeps a close eye on the interaction. Eventually, the boy waves goodbye and walks away, leaving Cora clutching her postcards with a dazed expression. When she rejoins the group, Tony can’t help himself.

“So, who’s your new friend?” he asks, trying (and failing) to sound casual.

Cora glares at him. “Nobody. Just some guy.”

“Did he give you his number?” Alex asks, grinning.

“Did he try to kiss you?” Howard adds.

“Guys, stop,” Cora groans, her cheeks turning bright red.

Tony crosses his arms. “Was his name Pierre? Because he looked like a Pierre.”

You smack his arm lightly, laughing. “Tony, let it go.”

Despite the teasing, the moment passes, and the family moves on to the next adventure. The twins, however, are not so easily distracted.

That evening, as you’re lounging in the hotel room, flipping through a travel guide, the boys march up to you and Tony with matching determined expressions.

“We want to go to Disneyland,” Alex announces.

“Disneyland Paris,” Howard clarifies.

“Please, Mom?” Alex adds, turning his best puppy-dog eyes on you.

Tony snorts. “You’ve got to be kidding me. We came all the way to Paris, and you want to see Mickey Mouse?”

“Oui, Mickey,” Estelle chimes in from her spot on the bed, clapping her hands.

You glance at Tony, who’s already shaking his head. But then Cora chimes in, a small smile playing on her lips.

“It could be fun,” she says. “And the twins have been really sweet to me lately. I think they deserve it.”

Tony groans. “You’re killing me, kid.”

The next day, you find yourself standing in the middle of Disneyland Paris, surrounded by excited children, cotton candy stands, and the sound of cheerful Disney music. The twins are practically vibrating with excitement, dragging Cora from one attraction to the next.

Estelle is equally thrilled, her eyes wide as she points at every princess she sees, babbling excitedly about their dresses.

“Look at her,” Tony says, watching Estelle hug a life-sized Winnie the Pooh with absolute joy. “She’s two, and she already knows how to work the system.”

“She’s your daughter,” you tease, linking your arm with his.

The day is a whirlwind of rides, character meet-and-greets, and an obscene amount of overpriced snacks. Tony tries to talk his way into a VIP area at one point, but you manage to reel him back before he starts name-dropping himself.

Later, as the sun begins to set, the kids are busy chasing bubbles near Sleeping Beauty’s Castle, and you and Tony find a rare moment of peace on a nearby bench.

“Remember the last time we were in Paris?” he says, his voice low and teasing.

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “I do. And I remember how much wine we drank that night.”

Tony smirks. “It was a good night. A productive night.”

“Tony,” you say, laughing softly.

“What?” he says, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying, nine months later, we had Cora. Coincidence? I think not.”

You shake your head, leaning into him. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, the chaos of the day fading into the background. Tony takes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he says quietly. “Keeping this whole crazy family together, making sure everyone’s happy…”

“You help,” you say, smiling up at him.

He grins. “Yeah, but you’re the glue. The sexy, unstoppable glue.”

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Mrs. Stark,” he murmurs.

The moment is interrupted by Estelle toddling over, holding a sticky cotton candy in her hands. “Mama! Dada!” she says, grinning. “Candy!”

Tony scoops her up, laughing. “All right, princess. Let’s get you cleaned up before you stick to everything.”

As the fireworks light up the night sky, you watch your family, your heart full. Cora is smiling again, the twins are their usual mischievous selves, and even Estelle is giggling as Tony pretends to “steal” her cotton candy.

It’s not perfect, but it’s yours. And in this moment, it’s everything you could ever want.

Returning to Miami is bittersweet. After the whirlwind adventure in Paris, filled with laughter, healing, and plenty of magical moments, the familiarity of home feels both comforting and a little dull in comparison. The private jet touches down mid-morning, and as you step onto the tarmac, the heat wraps around you like an old friend. Estelle claps her hands excitedly at the sight of palm trees, and the twins immediately begin discussing which of their toys they missed most.

Cora, however, is a little quieter than usual. She’s not sulking—in fact, she seems happy—but there’s something in her demeanor, a kind of soft distraction, that doesn’t go unnoticed. You and Tony exchange a knowing glance as you watch her scrolling on her phone, her thumbs moving quickly over the screen as a faint smile plays on her lips.

By the time you’re back at the house, it’s clear that whatever—or whoever—Cora is texting has her full attention. The twins bolt up the stairs to their room, racing to see who can dump their luggage the fastest. Estelle toddles after them, babbling about her stuffed animals and pausing halfway up to plop down and rest.

Cora lingers in the living room, dropping her bags by the couch and flopping down with a sigh. Her phone is still in her hand, and her fingers immediately start typing again.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “So, who’s the lucky recipient of all those texts?”

Cora doesn’t look up, but she does roll her eyes. “Nobody.”

You smirk, taking a seat next to her. “Nobody’s got you smiling at your phone like that? Come on, spill.”

“It’s not a big deal,” she says, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just talking to some people I met in France.”

Tony sits on the arm of the couch, folding his arms across his chest. “Oh, some people, huh? Are we talking guys, girls, or… Pierre?”

“Dad, seriously?” Cora groans, but she’s laughing despite herself.

“Wait, is it actually Pierre?” you ask, feigning shock.

“No!” Cora insists, finally setting her phone down and looking between the two of you. “His name is Louis. He was in line behind me at the Louvre, and we started talking while we waited. He’s cool, okay? That’s it.”

“Cool enough to text all day?” Tony teases, his grin widening.

“Cool enough to not break my heart, which is more than I can say for other people,” Cora shoots back, though her tone is light.

Tony’s smile falters for just a moment, and you place a hand on his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Well,” you say, steering the conversation back to neutral ground, “I think it’s great that you’re making new friends. France clearly left an impression.”

Cora nods, picking up her phone again. “Yeah. Louis and his friends were all really nice. They even invited me to come back someday and visit.”

Tony stiffens. “Visit? Alone? Over my dead body.”

“Tony,” you warn, shooting him a look.

“I’m just saying,” he mutters, leaning back. “Paris is great and all, but it’s a long way from here. And I don’t trust teenage boys. Especially French ones. They’re too charming.”

Cora laughs, shaking her head. “Relax, Dad. It’s not like I’m packing my bags tomorrow. Besides, you liked Paris too, remember? You wouldn’t stop talking about the croissants.”

“She’s got you there,” you say, smiling.

The next few days pass in a blur of unpacking, settling back into routines, and adjusting to the Miami heat. Cora spends a lot of time in her room, but instead of sulking like she had after the breakup, she seems genuinely happy. You often catch her laughing at something on her phone, and her mood has improved so much that even the twins take notice.

At dinner one evening, Alex leans over his plate of spaghetti and asks, “Cora, why are you always on your phone? Are you playing games?”

“No,” she says, twirling her fork. “I’m talking to my friends.”

Howard squints at her. “What friends? You don’t have any friends here.”

“Not here,” Cora says patiently. “In France. Remember the trip we just took? I met some people there.”

“Like Pierre?” Alex asks, grinning.

“His name is Louis,” Estelle pipes up, repeating what she’s heard so many times over the past few days. She giggles as if she understands the joke.

“Okay, dinner table rule,” you say, holding up a hand. “No teasing your sister about her friends. Got it?”

“Yes, Mom,” the twins say in unison, though you can tell they’re not entirely sincere.

After dinner, as you’re cleaning up in the kitchen, Tony wanders in, a dishtowel slung over his shoulder.

“So, what do you think about this Louis kid?” he asks, leaning against the counter.

“I think he’s halfway across the world and just a friend,” you reply, rinsing a plate. “And I think it’s good for Cora to have someone to talk to who isn’t us.”

Tony sighs. “Yeah, I guess. But I’m not thrilled about the idea of her running off to Europe to visit him someday.”

“She’s not running off anywhere,” you say, setting the plate in the drying rack. “And if she ever did, it wouldn’t be without a lot of planning—and probably a chaperone.”

Tony smirks. “So, you’re saying I’d have to go too?”

“Obviously,” you say, smiling. “You’d hate to miss out on more croissants.”

As the days turn into weeks, Cora continues to text Louis and his group of friends, her phone buzzing at all hours with messages and pictures. You catch glimpses of their conversations occasionally—photos of the Eiffel Tower lit up at night, jokes about the Louvre’s long lines, and even a video of someone attempting to skateboard in a cobblestone alley.

The twins remain mildly suspicious of this new development, but their jealousy is quickly forgotten whenever Cora agrees to join them for a game of basketball or a movie night.

One afternoon, as you’re sitting on the patio with Tony, watching Estelle splash around in the kiddie pool, he leans over and says, “You know, I think she’s really okay now.”

You follow his gaze to where Cora is lounging in a hammock, laughing at something on her phone.

“She is,” you agree, resting your head on his shoulder. “And that’s all that matters.”

Tony wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer. “You know, we’re pretty good at this whole parenting thing.”

“Speak for yourself,” you tease. “I’m the glue, remember?”

He laughs, kissing the top of your head. “Fair enough. But I’m the fun one.”

“Sure you are,” you say, smiling as you watch your family, your heart full.

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